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smuttysabina · 1 day

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When Editing Goes Wrong

(Pokimane's Editor (You) x Pokimane, 3.3k Words) Tags: Excessive masturbation, gooning, sex surprisingly enough, anal sex, oral sex, foot sex, butt sex, obsessive behavior, a stunningly brave tale about the perils of editing for your masturbation material, absolutely degenerate behavior all around, also like damn dude you really couldn't resist telling her huh? Current events, breeding

You had done it, you had acquired your dream job, being the video editor for your favorite streamer; there was just one small problem, an afterthought really, an understatement. You were totally and utterly addicted to every inch of Pokimane's body. Her luscious hair, her gorgeous eyes, her perky lips, her smooth skin, her bodacious breasts, her toned arms, her delicate hands, her smooth stomach, her shapely hips, her puffy mound, her thick thighs, her tempting feet, so perfectly shaped and formed and begging to be licked- Oh dear, you did it again, another hour gone and several tissues filled. You were supposed to be taking Poki's raw, uncut footage and removing all the parts those filthy gooners would enjoy too much, obviously some slightly erotic shots would be left in to titillate them, but not enough to make her haters online accuse her of being a slutty tease. The issue was that there was simply too much delicious content to sort through, and you were unable to resist slamming your meat for hours on end to all of the content she was sending you. You would hump your hand for hours on end to your own private compilations of lewd moments, groaning Pokimane's name as you worshipped her in the only way you knew how. Of course, this made getting videos and vlogs out on time somewhat difficult, since editing actually public-friendly videos did in fact take some time, so things were getting to the point where you might have to start asking for extensions...

You sweat nervously as you hurriedly type out a message to Poki, explaining to her that you would be unable to get her video out this week, that you had hit some unexpected snags while cutting down her content. Nothing to be worried about of course, just a normal hazard of splicing together all of those disparate clips, you should have the vlog out in time by next week, for sure! Your typing is made a touch more difficult by the fact that you were doing so one-handed, even messaging your goddess got you all worked up. Her response of course, is as kindly and supportive as always, "No worries, these things do happen! I am looking forward to receiving the vlog by Wednesday of next week." Next Wednesday? You look at your calendar and groan in despair, it was going to be hard to fit editing time into your schedule with all the gooning you had been planning on doing... But you managed it, somehow. The thought of disappointing your goddess, as arousing as that was, had goaded you into putting the effort in, and you had made what you knew was a masterpiece. You smile proudly as you send the vlog to Poki, you were sure her fans would love it, and they did! "Good job on that last video Editor, that extra time sure helped, didn't it?" Your goddess praises you, so of course you have to hump your hand in celebration, you finish several times to that simple sentence.

The next few weeks pass by without much incident, with you throwing together videos in time for the deadline while still blasting rope to Pokimane constantly. Your videos had been doing extremely well judging by the viewer-count, your subtle blend of inside jokes and community memes with vaguely provocative shots had been largely popular with the fanbase. Of course, you kept the most delectable cuts to yourself, so while those degenerate coomers online were filling their pants to some risque stills, you were pumping furiously to the good stuff. The editing for the upcoming week's video was running into some blockages however, since for whatever sadistic reason Poki had chosen to include almost half an hour's worth of video pointed down at her bare feet as she wanders around her apartment chattering away. You had been unable to resist such potent stimulation, and had been beating your meat almost continuously to her feet. So lost in your lusts were you, that when Poki messages you, you feel inclined to answer honestly, "What's the hold up on next week's video? Its almost Sunday and I haven't gotten it yet?" Your orgasm-fried brain misfires as you try to conceive an excuse, but the thought of telling her the truth is simply too exciting to resist. So you tell Poki that you had been too busy blasting rope to her perfect feet, pumping and edging to her delicate toes and smooth soles so much that you were unable to fit in any editing. You climax when you hit send, obliterating several tissues as you end your hours-long session with a catastrophic orgasm; then of course you realize what you had done, and start panicking. Not that you should have worried though, as Poki swiftly responds, "Understandable, but please try to stop jacking off long enough to do your job." Suitably chastened, you comply; but not before squeezing another fap in.

Over the next month, you start to notice a subtle change in the content Pokimane sends you. Whereas before the more sensual shots would go by swiftly, now she seemed to... linger a bit on certain areas. Normal people would not have perceived this development, but as someone who had spent the past year consuming endless hours of her content, it was obvious. Poki would now spend on average an extra second giving you a view down her bodice, show off her meaty ass for just a little longer, playfully flex her toes before moving onto something else. Of course, you react to this novel situation by offering her with yet more of your seed, while still barely managing to get a video out on time every week. Editors truly have it rough!

Then it happened. In the middle of a vlog about household products, Poki was busy blathering about her automatic cat feeder when she suddenly pauses and stares at the camera. "I know you're watching, Editor. I just wanted to give you a special thank you for all of your hard work." Then she pulls up her shirt to reveal her breasts, wiggles them around, before yanking it back down again and continuing her spiel where she had left off. You gawp in absolute shock, sure that your mind had been playing tricks on you, that your fantasies had bled into real life, that this was actually just a surprisingly accurate wet dream. But no, as you rewind and replay the section, Pokimane had in fact flashed you, she had shown you her slightly tan breasts, each perky while still carrying some heft, graced with a dark-brown nipple upon a wide areola. Your response is entirely predictable, you pound your fleshlight for an entire day straight, not even stopping for food or rest as you honor your goddess's bountiful blessing. When you collapse, it is only from sheer exhaustion, your body and balls utterly drained by the sight of Pokimane's boobs. Upon awakening, you discover that a large amount of time had passed, and that you had a minimal amount of time to complete your deadline. Working like a man possessed, you furiously throw together a video, not even touching yourself once where before you would have savored every tantalizing moment. Through some holy miracle, you are able to send Poki the week's video on time, a feat that she seems suitably impressed by, "I thought you would have to be late again this week, good job Editor."

The next week's content is lacking in such stimulation however, simply a return to Pokimane's usual slight teasing, which still excites you, but leaves you yearning for more. Which was no doubt her intent, because in her next footage, she abruptly turns around, bends over, and pulls down her pants. The mere sight of Poki's monolithic ass in the nude has you painting the underside of your desk before you can fully process what you are seeing. Her fat cheeks wobble provocatively before she languidly reaches back and spreads them and reveals her glistening slit- By the time you have regained control of yourself, you are literally covered in cum, and far, far past your deadline. Panicking, you open your messages and hurriedly inform her that this week's vlog would be delayed due to a medical emergency you had to deal with; yes indeed your health had truly been threatened by what you had seen! Pokimane's response seems amused, "Don't lie to me Editor, you were too busy blasting rope to my ass, admit it." Moaning, you have no choice but to agree with her, informing your goddess that you had been unable to resist relentlessly pleasuring yourself to her; begging her for forgiveness, "It's fine, just be sure to have two videos done by the end of this week, or I'll have to find a new editor, got it?" The mere thought of being cut off by your queen has you in shambles, and you grovelingly assure Poki that her will would be done.

Through a herculean effort, you manage to complete your task, sending two videos of the highest quality to Poki, "Good job, I'm impressed! Next week I will not be posting though, so enjoy your time off." Most employees would celebrate having an entire week off, but being denied fresh content has left you morose; no matter, you still needed to enjoy her last gifts to the fullest. Then a notification pops up that you had received the usual weekly content file from Pokimane, and curious, you open it. Inside there is only one file, an hour long titled: 'For My Editor'. Thoroughly intrigued, and not a little excited, you start to watch it. The video starts with Poke modeling in a sleek black dress, nothing unusual there, as she poses and shows off her angles until she pauses and looks into the camera, "Hello Editor, after working so hard last week, I decided to help you get through this one." Whereupon she confidently pulls her dress over her head and tosses it aside, revealing her voluptuous body to you in all its glory. Pokimane leans forward, cupping her breasts with an arm while making slow stroking motions with her other hand, "Jack off for me, Editor. Pump, pump, pump," she growls huskily. Then she explores her body for you, fondling her weighty breasts, running her hands down her fertile tummy, teasingly rubbing her slit, turning around so that she can show you how heavy her ass is as she bounces it with her hands. All the while she encourages you to pleasure yourself to her, motioning with her hand for you to masturbate, "Edge for me Editor, I want you all worked up for the real show..." Poki opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, rolling her eyes back in a perfect ahegao face for a full minute before ending with a devilish smirk. Her teasing grows ever more obscene as her own arousal heightens, "Imagine how wet my mouth would be wrapped around your cock, how soft my boobs would be, how tight my ass would be, how breedable my pussy is..." She moans ecstatically, her fingers squishing against her lower lips as she masturbates, as she angles the camera downwards towards the floor. Poki crouches in front of it, breathing heavily, her face flushed, "How would you take me, Editor?" She gets on her back, spreading her legs for you so that you can see just how sopping wet her pussy is, how it would be to pump between her meaty thighs, "Missionary?" Before rolling over and hoisting her thick ass in the air, pressing her chest against the ground to show you her sensual arch, "Doggy?" She gets up onto her knees and turns around, lustfully humping their air while groping herself and licking her lips, "Or would I need to put all the work in?" Poki leans forward, purring, "I want you to fuck me, Editor. I want every last drop of your cum, understood?" Wet slopping noises grew louder as her face became more and more red, as she nods encouragingly as the camera, "Do it, now. Cum for me, Editor. Cum in me!" Then Pokimane lets out a little gasp before moaning unashamedly, her eyes rolling back as she climaxes right in front of the lens, shuddering with pleasure until it is over. She sighs sensually, "Enjoy your week off..." before giving you a wink and ending the video. Needless to say, you did not get much done that week.

Or the next week for that matter, so busy were you blasting fat reams of jizz to your Goddess's instructions; so lost in an endless cycle of cumming for Pokimane that you only stopped when she messaged you again, "I guess you've been too busy stroking for me to get any work done, so here's a little incentive for you. Finish a video, and I'll give you an hour of my time, deal?" Of course, you had no choice but to obey, even with images of your queen's naked body prancing through your addled brain, you still managed to pump out a video in a reasonable amount of time; as well as an unreasonable amount of loads. A few hours after sending the video, you hear a knock on your apartment door, and more than a little annoyed at being interrupted while worshipping your goddess, you go to open it. Imagine your shock then when you find Pokimane on the other side of it, wearing a sleek outfit of deep red, dolled up to perfection. Pushing past your gawping form, she stalks inside, wrinkling her nose at the stench of semen she plops herself on your much-stained bed before licking her lips and giving you an expecting look, "Well? You have an hour, how would you like to fuck me?" You let out a piteous groan as you shamble forward, your cock already bulging and dripping, your mind unable to believe that your goddess is before you, but your body knows what to do. You dreamily turn her around and pull down her panties, humping Poki's fat ass as she amusingly informs you to go in raw, "After all, I am on birth control, and I doubt I have to worry about any STDs..." So you mount Pokimane like an animal for an entire hour, grunting like a beast while she passively waits for you to finish, you don't stop pumping for a single moment, nor do you ever stop filling her up with your cum until it leaks out of her cunt. Before you know it, her phone is buzzing loudly, and she commands you to stop, your hour is over. You notice she is limping slightly as she leaves, "Fuck I am so full..." she murmurs, before cheerfully saying, "I'm looking forward to your next video, Editor" and leaving.

The subsequent months pass by in a blur, you swiftly and skillfully produce a video for Pokimane, and soon after she arrives at your door, ready to be used. And god, do you use her. You lick and fuck her feet until they are squishy with your semen; you pump between her mighty thighs, breeding her continuously as she moans beneath you; you mount her fat tits more often that you can count, humping her chest until her breasts are smothered with cum; you make her suck you off, making her clean the fluids of your coupling off your cock so many times you know the contours of her mouth better than she does; you violate her anus with her cock, often without any lubrication, groaning as her tight coils milk your dry within minutes; you plow her from behind, again and again and again, unable to resist her thick ass you simply give in and fuck; you spend several hours simply jacking off onto her perfect face, until her hair is soaked and her face white; you make her ride you in every position imaginable, bouncing and swaying on your cock while her breasts flop around her chest, as she tirelessly drains you of load after load; you masturbate to porn together, until you are both staining the sheets afresh with your cum; you ask her to peg you, which she does with great enthusiasm while your cock sprays like a firehose; you dress her up in all sorts of cosplays, roleplaying a wide variety of scenarios that always seem to end up with you breeding her while howling her name; you fuck her while watching the video she sent you, so that you are pumping to Poki porn using Poki's perfect pussy, achieving a gooner's nirvana.

All the while you continue to churn out videos like a machine, all of which rack up an ever growing quantity of views and interactions; you are single-handedly (because the other hand is busy) driving up Pokimane's numbers on Youtube. You reach your zenith after editing while your goddess's head bobs between your legs, sucking you dry even as you complete your masterpiece. Eventually though, you begin to tire of it all, your videos begin to do progressively less well, and you feel a growing indifference towards Poki. You had flew to close too the gooner sun, your wings had been burned by the intensity of your fulfilled passions for her. No longer did her every message and word carry the power to compel you any more, no longer was she your Aphrodite, now she was simply a high priestess, the pedestal of goddess left unoccupied as your ardor cools. None of which goes unnoticed by Poki, so that one day she messages you, "I think we may need to go our separate ways Editor, let's discuss this at your place," and you agree. She patiently explains that the quality of your videos had declined recently, and that she was firing you, "Send me a copy of all the recordings you made of us together though," she smirks at your shock, "what, you thought I wouldn't notice? That much content will be useful for when I launch on Pornhub." You shudder at the thought of Pokimane gracing the porn scene with her presence, much seed would be spilt that day... "Also, I shot your reference to a friend of mine who needs a good editor, so expect to hear from her soon." You thank her profusely for this generosity, and she smirks in response, "Once more before the road then? I know how much you love fucking me..." So you spend the next hour pumping Pokimane full of your semen, and making her suck the resulting mess off of your dick; she even stays an extra few minutes to make sure it is extra clean. You hear her mutter as she leaves for the final time, "Well that one lasted a while..."

You spend the next week in a morose stupor, lost without a goddess to worship, unable to even achieve an erection. Even when Poki glibly announces on stream that she had to fire her pervert of an editor, you don't get hard even from this humiliation. Your depressed mood continues until a fresh notification pops up on your work account, piquing your interest; it reads, "Hello, I was looking for a new editor, and Imane recommended you to me! I need to have this video out by tomorrow, so please get it done ASAP! -AriaSaki" Curious now, you open up attached files, and feel a faint stirring in your crotch. Several hours later, and you send the video to her, your cock leaking from your constant edging, eager for her response. You don't have long to wait, as a short video arrives soon after, you open to see the goddess talking excitedly to you, while wearing little more than short-shorts and a blue pushup bra, "OH MY GAWD, thank you so much Editor! This looks so freaking good, let's discuss terms tomorrow okay? Thank you thank you thank you!" Before ending it with a beaming smile. You are smiling as well, as semen drips down from the underside of your desk, anything for your goddess AriaSaki...

And so the Editor finds a new job, and the cycle continues...

#smut #otv smut #pokimane smut #ariasaki smut #imane smut #poki smut

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eveningrainstorm · 17 days

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cycle knots

#i've had all of these sitting around for a while and haven't felt like posting them #but since i don't have time to draw anything new right now i figured i might as well #i've been drawing a lot of these textpost doodle thingies for psychonauts and it's mostly because normally i would make textpost edits #with talk sprites and stuff. but psychonauts doesn't have those and for some reason i'm super resistant to making them with screenshots so.#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #uhhh am i tagging all these guys. i guess i am #otto mentallis #ford cruller #compton boole #cassie o'pia #bob zanotto #razputin aquato #norma natividad #lili zanotto #chloe barge #sam boole #putting these all together really makes it obvious how differently i color raz every time i draw him huh.#for some reason his color scheme is just hard for me to figure out. the bright yellow skin throws me off #my art

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millidew · 9 days

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rip lucy and mina you would’ve loved farcille. rip marcille you would’ve loved westenray (falin lost interest and fell asleep before finishing the book)

#dracula #lucy westenra #mina harker #mina Murray #Westenray #dungeon meshi #farcille #marcille donato #falin touden #my post #dungeon meshi spoilers in tags: ->#something about it…………idk #childhood girl best friends #a blonde woman who everyone loves and idealizes #proposed to by one of her male friends. has expectations relating to marriage and who she should marry #she’s in peril pretty much immediately. everyone tries to save her but she dies.#she’s unnaturally brought back as a perversion of her former self: a cold blooded killer #the gang has to put her to rest. it’s for the best #luckily Falin is allowed more independence by surviving and having her own story rip #her best friend: an intelligent hard worker/teacher with some gender stuff going on #since iirc it’s possible that mina taught Lucy at some point?#and Marcille was a teacher/researcher at Falin’ s magic school #new women (derogatory) and ‘but those are men’s clothes!!’#all affectionate ofc it makes them more interesting characters #who goes through a mini Dark Arc (vampire mina and dungeon lord marcille)#edit: okay more thoughts. I think that Falin would watch a play or movie and not think too much of it and marcille would go #NOO IT WASNT IN THE SPIRIT OF THE ORIGINAL BOOK!!! listen to the audiobook the adaptations ruin it!!#and Falin would enjoy it more like that

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gachaparadise · 6 months

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ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

#i keep going back and forth about if i'm skipping Ratio. I was 100% going for him but now. looking at whats coming #I like Sunday and Robin and Boothill and Gallagher and Misha and Aventurine and DUKE INFERNO?!?#okay. i just saw that Aventurine might be sustain unit. i NEED one of those so bad.#my accounts gonna be completely fucked if i don't get a good support sometime soon. so like. that moves him WAY up my priorities list #and moves Ratio down :( still dunno exactly what he does waiting for official release to make final decisions #but. if he's really an imaginary dps. i might... *dies a little bit* skip him #i just!!! i have DH!!! i WANT to use DH! he's my favourite character in the damn game!#and >_> is Ratio going to have story relevance? i thought Argenti would get more then just a companion quest but he hasn't #and that kinda... bums me out? i like the meet a character THEN roll for them not the other way around. i like character who matter plotwis #A!NY!WAY! putting that aside. i might just go for the 50/50 and take what i get. just to smooth out my pity if nothing else #i don't have most of the standard pool so chances are *knocks on wood* i'll have something new to work with #and like we are getting an absolute BARRAGE of hard skip banners coming up after him.#i do not care for these women at all. extremely mid designs i SLEEP #(except for the judge she fucks but. jades are tight right now honey im sorry!!)#so. i've got a little but of time to save afterwards #post: misc #game: honkai sr #these tags are long and disjointed but its *checks clock* almost 2:30 am so. i'm a bit. you know.#i could save this draft for tomorrow and edit into something resembling a human's train of thought instead of word vomit but #i kinda wanna capture the moment. this is how i saw the leaks. the essence of desperation of a f2p. aahhh gacha my beloved.

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sugarnspice630 · 3 months

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Movie Night - Yunho x Reader

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.”

•pairing: softdom!yunho x fem!reader

•word count: 1.9k

•tags: mdni, golden retriever Yunho turns soft dom, vertically challenged reader, reader has never seen the Spider-Man movies, Yunho is a MASSIVE ass guy, teasing, butt foundling, reader falls asleep, somnophilia if you squint, cockwarming, ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Having a movie date night with Yunho, but you find yourself falling asleep, so Yunho does the only thing he can think of to keep you awake

A/N: Inspired by my Thighs, Tits, or Ass man Ateez edition post! Sorry to anyone who has seen the Spider-Man movies (I have not). Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

It was movie date night with Yunho! You were so excited to have the whole evening with just the two of you. Your objective was to watch the entire Spider-Man movie series, cause you had never seen them before and he was dying to share them with you. Were superhero movies your favorite thing in the world? No, but you agreed to watch them because Yunho loves them. You could never turn down any request he had, especially when he gave you those soft eyes. It makes your heart melt every time.

Yunho was busy preparing the living room for the movie night while you took it upon yourself to make the popcorn. A huge bowl of it to make it through all the movies. You had to stand on your tippy toes to put the first bag into the microwave. Balancing yourself against the counter and stretching your calves and arms as far as they would go to get the bag in. You heard a soft chuckle from behind and felt Yunho’s body pushing against you. You tilted your head back and looked up at him, and he looked down at you. He closed the door to the microwave and pushed the buttons for you, with a smile on his face the whole time.

“Figured you needed some help.”

“I could have managed!” He softly chuckles at your retaliation.

"Right, right, sorry.” He gently rubbed up and down your sides with his frame still pushed against you. Resting his head on top of yours and staying close to you for a few minutes. He gently kissed the top of your head before tracing his hands down to your butt. Gently squeezing both cheeks and massaging. You felt your face get warm.

“Yuyu!” You drew out his name in a playful manner.

“Sorry baby! I just couldn’t help it.” It also didn’t help that you were wearing pajama shorts that just covered your cheeks, and the fabric was a little thin. You could feel him from behind you, but it wasn't hard. The timer for the popcorn bag went off, and Yunho took one hand off your butt and opened the door for you. He grabbed the bag and set it on the counter in front of you.

“Thank you~!” He softly patted your head and gave you a smile before making his way back to the living room to wait for you. You took the bag, carefully opening it to not burn yourself, and poured it into a big bowl for you two to share, taking out all of the kernels that did not get popped. You carried the bowl into the living room and smiled when you saw Yunho sitting there, all sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable. Setting the bowl down on the table in a spot that would be easy for both of you to reach. The atmosphere was perfect to watch movies together at home. The lights were dimmed, but not enough to affect navigating your way around the furniture. The room temperature was perfect—warm enough that you would not need a blanket while also allowing the extra warmth from cuddling up together.

You walked around the table to sit down on the couch next to Yunho. In the meantime, he propped his feet up on the table at an angle to allow you to curl in underneath his arms. Before you could sit down, he gave you this cocky smirk and used his toes to kick the remote off the table, landing behind you. You placed your hands on your hips and scoffed playfully.

“Really?”

“My foot slipped.” He said nonchalantly, still keeping that smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and smirked back at him. Turning around, you bent over at the waist to pick up the remote. While bent over, you could just feel Yunho’s eyes drilling into you. You took your time picking up the remote, just to tease him even further. As you came back up, you turned around quickly, hoping to catch Yunho lacking, but he was staring straight ahead. He must have directed his gaze away just before you turned around.

“I know you were staring.”

“Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. You’ll never know~.” Still staring straight ahead. You lightly slapped his shoulder before sitting down next to him and getting comfortable. He extended his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You handed the remote to him and let him pick the first movie you were going to watch.

“This is important, so you have to pay attention.” He said enthusiastically, excited to share his interests. The golden retriever energy was strong at this moment. You swore that if he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now.

“Hard to do that when you’re here too.” He just smiled at your sly comment, and you nuzzled up against him.

The movie started to play, and you watched intently. Your eyes were trying to follow everything that was happening on screen, which proved to be difficult at times because there was so much happening, but you managed. Yunho would occasionally speak up during a quiet part to tell you something really awesome was coming up. About halfway through the movie, you noticed your eyes were getting heavy, so you tried to blink away the tiredness, but it just kept coming back to haunt you. You wanted to stay awake and watch the movies with Yunho. You tapped Yunho on the leg two times to indicate you were going to change positions. You opted for laying your head in his lap and laying sideways, still facing the TV. He softly placed his hand on your side and gently rubbed. More minutes of the movie go by, and you are still fighting tiredness. You find your eyes closing, only to immediately open them back up wide to focus back on the movie. You have missed most of the last quarter of the movie by now, considering how many times your eyes have opened and closed. Yunho noticed this, and one time when you didn’t open your eyes right away, he slightly flicked your side.

“Ya, pay attention Y/N. You keep falling asleep.”

“I know Yunho; I’m sorry. It is interesting; I just can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Well here, sit up and come over here.” Yunho shifts in his spot a little and invites you to sit up in his lap. You picked yourself up and moved to sit on his lap, still facing the TV. He placed his hands back at your side to support you sitting on him. You looked back and looked at Yunho’s face. He was smirking at you softly and rubbing your sides while he looked at you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you turned your attention back to the movie. You then felt Yunho lean a bit closer to you and felt his breath near your ear.

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.” His tone was low, and it made your face heat up a little. You continued to stay focused on the movie, and soon after, the credits began to roll. Just because this movie was over did not mean you were done; no, you had all the other movies in the series to get through. He picked up the remote and started the next movie in the series.

Tiredness began to take over you again, but you swore to stay awake for Yunho. Hiding your subtle yawns and slow blinks the best you could. Eventually, you find your head bobbing to the side and your eyes closing. This time, you did not wake up as quickly as before. Yunho took notice of your sleeping figure and decided to do something about it. He took one hand and shifted his hips to pull his sweatpants and underwear down. Then, he grabbed your face harshly, which caused you to jolt awake. He turned his hand to turn your face toward him. You stared at him with a shocked expression.

“I told you if you couldn’t stay awake, I’d give you a reason to stay awake. Take your shorts and underwear off.” He sounded annoyed, so you didn’t want to piss him off any further. You obeyed him and lifted yourself up by your knees, slid off your shorts and underwear, with his help, of course, then sat back down on his lap. To your surprise, you felt his bare skin touching yours. You felt something slightly poking your behind as well.

“Lift your hips back up baby.” He whispered to you, and you lifted your hips slightly, removing his hand from your face to help you out. Yunho took that opportunity to guide his semi-hard dick to your entrance. “Alright, sit back down slowly.” Yunho placed his hands back on your side as you slowly sat yourself back on his lap. You whimpered softly as his thick dick stretched out your opening. You softly bit your lip and felt Yunho push your hips down to put all your weight on him. “You’re going to pay attention now, yes?” You nodded your head softly, your brain becoming clouded by how big Yunho is inside you.

You were having a slightly hard time focusing on the movie, but for a different reason. It was not because you were tired; it was because you could feel your boyfriend’s cock inside you getting harder, and he would twitch every so often. Your heart rate was so harsh and heavy that you could feel it in your pussy. You were almost certain Yunho could feel it too, because he would grunt or groan with pleasure every time you felt it. Yunho wiggled in his seat a little, but really to try to push himself further inside you. You softly moaned, and you felt one of Yunho’s hands leave your side and come up to cover your mouth. He leaned closer to your body, which only pushed his cock into you in a different direction, causing you to moan again and flutter your eyes.

“No talking during the movie love~.” You felt his warm breath near your ear. “You need to focus~.”

“I-I can’t-.” You tried to say it quietly, but Yunho’s hand over your mouth muffled your words.

“What? Couldn’t hear you baby. Could you say that again?” He moved his hand off your mouth a little to allow you to speak.

“I can’t-!” Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho rammed his hips up into you, causing your words to get cut off and you to let out a loud moan. He leaned his body back up against your back and whispered in your ear again.

“I’m giving you one more chance to stay quiet before I completely ruin you; do you understand?” Nodding your head quickly and breathing heavily, you directed your attention back to the movie once again, but Yunho was too far in his head now. He knew you didn’t really care for the movie and just wanted to sit on his dick for the rest of the night, so he lazily rolled his hips up and down to push himself around. Smirking to himself as he could hear just the faintest of whimpers coming from you as you stayed focused on the screen. You could not grasp onto anything that was happening, but to trick Yunho into thinking you were watching, you stayed facing forward and fixed your eyes on the screen.

This was going to be a long night.

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @v-lvs-yungi @dawn-iscozy @certifiedmoa @tinyqaa @sleepyw1tch @pancake-freckle @mysteriousrainsworld @xuchiya

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joelsgreys · 27 days

Text

splash

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist l fic notifs

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?”

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks.

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her.

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply.

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him.

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

#fic: snapshots #girldad!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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eddiessluttywaist · 3 months

Text

the boy is mine (eddiessluttywaist's edition)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: romantic night at the trailer, based off of this prompt!

pairing: bf!eddie x gf!reader

word count: 1, 944 words

content/warnings: MDNI, fluff, kissing, lots of touchy feels, a lil smutty?

a/n: creds to whoever owns and posted those ^ photos! they’re not mine, i just made the collage! also would like to credit @carolmunson for this prompt and @mrsjellymunson for tagging me! I haven’t written for eddie in so long, and this was a great way to get back into it <3 thank you! hope you enjoy my contribution <3

You basked in the scent of Eddie’s bedding, how he was ingrained into each and every fiber. Every motion, every shift of the sheets, you could smell him. He had foolishly left you to your own devices in his bedroom (which was surprising since the last time he did that, you almost dared touch his Sweetheart) so you indulged.

You curled up in the sprawling mess of blankets and sheets then grabbed the small throw pillow you had embroidered for him and buried your face in it. It was a delicate, pretty, little thing that stood out in his room even with its DnD theme, but he loved it. He loved that you made it, that you put so much effort into it just for him, so he slept with it every night. Unfamiliar with the concept of purely decorative pillows, he didn’t realize most people tucked such things off to the side before getting into bed each night. So, it smelled like cigarettes, convenience store aftershave, and his shampoo. The scent filled you with dizzying affection, only pulling it away from your face to then hug it to your chest as he walked back into his room.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups. This okay?” he asked as he blew into one of the mugs and then used the bottom of his shirt to wipe it down. He was planning on cleaning those cartoon-themed cups properly for some absurdly fancy hot chocolate you had brought back from your family vacation. He was even planning on making another case for not wasting it on him, but, of course, his attention strayed easily when you were in his bed.

When his gaze finally fell on you, a lazy smile quirked up one side of his mouth. The handles of the mugs hung off the curl of his fingers which rested against his hips now as he took in the sight of you. He tilted his head to put it at the same angle as yours, his favorite pillow in your arms. You were an unbelievably endearing sight. The love that filled him was fluttery and overwhelming.

“And who said you could hold my favorite pillow?” He teased, sauntering over to the bed.

“I made it,” you scoffed with a smile.

He hums lazily in response, that crooked grin still hanging around as he shoved at the clutter on his bedside table. He picked up a small notebook, brow furrowed as he observed it only to haphazardly toss it towards his dresser to make more room. It was that or your tub of Betty Crocker, and he knew better.

You stared at his forearms, drinking in the movement of the musculature underneath. The warmth of his bedside lamp made it even better to watch the lines and curves of his tattoos beneath its comforting, golden light. How could something so simple be so beautiful? Your focus then trailed to the perfect structure of his hands as the mugs slid down his fingers. The ceramic cups clinked against the surface of the old table.

“I think as the creator, I have some right to hold it too,” you continued to make your case while he crawled into bed with you, giving you that subtle mischievous look he always got when he was toying with you.

His strong arms wrapped around you to secure you closer to him.

“I worked very hard on it, y’know.”

Eddie let out an “Is that right?” kind of sound, the texture of his jeans scratching against the bedding. He pulled you into him with such a desperate need to squish you as close as possible as if he thought you might be leaving soon. Those brown curls tickled your jaw while he nuzzled the side of your neck, audibly breathing you in.

“And it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to embroider all that Dungeons and—”

He finally pulled back to cut you off, smushing his face against yours in a way that made you giggle. Eddie’s kisses were always lazy and sloppy this late at night, but you loved them that way. His lips were warm albeit a bit rough from all the anxious biting that he abused them with. A pleased hum left him and vibrated deep in his throat, his large hands encasing the sides of your face and his fingers tangling in your hair. His rings would probably tug a strand or two when he pulled them away, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

The way your body relaxed reassured him, and he slid his arms down to pull you in again so your stomach could be flat against his own. Then, he let out a small chuckle when he had to separate from you to pluck the throw pillow out from between you. Eddie placed it elsewhere with emphasized tenderness while you stared at those ruddy lips that you missed already.

“Pillow was in the way,” he murmured in a low tone, kissing you back as you pulled him in for a few more pecks.

“And here I was thinking you were starting to love it more than me.”

“Aw, now don’t be like that. You know that’s not true,” Eddie drawled, grinning over that unconvincing little pout you gave him.

He sat back on his legs to move the bedding out of his way, then pulled you forward by your thighs which he readily settled in between. There was nothing he wanted more than to be thoroughly pressed against you. It wasn’t even about sex, at least not always. He just loved the feeling of you being so close to him. The softness of your stomach against his taut abdomen. The plushness of your chest pressed against the flat planes of his own. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the way your bodies fit together too, but he’d melt into you if he could.

Eddie was the type to lean into you while you were walking together, ending up so close that his wallet chain would keep bumping against you. He always sought out your hand to hold or your shoulders for him to drape his arm across (which of course always ended up with him folding you into him so your face would press against a Hellfire symbol or band name, and he could settle his chin on the top of your head).

“I don’t think I believe you.”

You crossed your arms, failing to keep up with your façade, especially with that smile and those dimples.

“Well then, my dramatic lil lady,” He spoke with that same theatrical cadence that he used during campaigns, his brow furrowed with determination. You groaned over the incoming mawkishness, rolling your gaze up to the ceiling and smiling to the point that the apples of your cheeks ached.

“I suppose I must convince you.”

His hand settled on the side of your neck, thumb brushing against the center of your throat as he dipped down for another kiss.

“You’re so corny,” you laughed against his lips.

“And you… taste like vanilla,” he sighed, laughing with you after.

“Mm, well, that is the work of Ms. Betty Crocker,” you smiled up at him, gently tapping his nose. “Speaking of…”

Eddie groaned, mentally cursing himself for even bringing it up as you squirmed out from underneath him to grab the container from behind the abandoned mugs. He watched you intently while you sucked a scoop of frosting off your finger. When you met his gaze, he gave you a cheeky grin that he failed to conceal by biting his lip and then wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You’re a child,” you snorted, reaching out to tap some frosting onto the tip of his nose.

“And you’re devastating,” he countered in a voice so sickeningly saccharine with love that you wiped the frosting right back off. He caught your hand and sucked the sugar from the pad of your thumb before you could fully pull back.

“Who knew the local bad boy could be such a softie,” you teased softly, scooping some more frosting to feed it to him. Eddie playfully bit down just enough to make you laugh.

“I believe you mean ‘the local freak.’”

“Mm, tomato, tomahto,” you shrugged, lapping up some more frosting off your finger. His rich umber eyes seemed to glitter in the dull lighting, his pupils dilating. You looked up at him through your lashes when you felt his stare.

“We’re gonna have a problem if you keep doing that,” Eddie’s voice was rough even as he smiled over you.

“What?” you laughed, full of faux innocence. He just smirked. “No, what?”

“You know what.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you shrug, going to scoop some more frosting out when he snags the tub from you.

“Wh— hey!”

You already missed his warmth when he sank back onto folded legs, dipping his forefinger into the tub.

“You’re gonna get your rings all sticky,”

You blushed when that made him cackle, but you at least got the comfort of his body again as he hunched over you. His smile was tangible against the side of your neck, his hair tickling you again.

“Not the only thing that—”

“Eddie, shu-u-ush,” you laughed, and he flattened himself on top of you again, leaving tacky, sugary kisses on your neck while you pried the vanilla frosting from his hand. He gave up on keeping it from you, happy to have a free hand again to seek out your waist with.

Holding the container with one hand, you arched your other arm over him to scoop just one more—you swore just one more! —fingertip of frosting, but he was pulling back before you could even dip into it.

“Gimme that—”

“So rude taking things from me today,” you tutted, watching with a pout as he fed himself some of your treat.

“Have to have you all to myself,” he mimicked some toxic-alpha-dude-type bravado, but he couldn’t even get through it without chuckling at the end.

Eddie prodded at the dwindling supply of Betty Crocker’s then tossed the container back onto his bedside table. But you reached out to catch his wrist and brought his index finger to your mouth before he could bring it to his own.

He groaned, leaning onto one elbow while he gawked at you. His full lips parted at the sight of you, his thumb brushing against your cheek as you sucked on his finger. Damn.

“You never play fair.”

“And you like that,” you stated proudly once he slid his finger back out of your mouth.

“Course I do,” he grunted, sliding the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “May have taken a few attempts to graduate, but I’m not that dumb.”

Your following giggle was breathy and fleeting as you sunk into the tension filling the room. You took in the growing heat in his gaze that tracked his thumb while it hooked your bottom lip. He mimicked opening his own mouth as you did so without even being asked, making him smile and drag his tongue over his lip. He slid his pointer finger down your tongue again, letting it trail down until he was holding your chin between his curled finger and thumb. Keeping your chin down and lips parted, he leaned in. The kiss was firmer—more determined—and desperate. He was putting every ounce of his desire into you, and this time you were the one melting. You felt like you were sinking deeper into that old mattress, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him with you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #bf!eddie munson #the boy is mine eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut

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amandacanwrite · 4 months

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More Headcanons for the Gale Babes: Pining Edition

Tagging At Their Request: @eclecticqueennerd @jeneralmischief @thewizardhole

Tagging Because I Thought You May Want To Know I posted It: @lewdisescariot @ollypopwrites @rissi-chan @foreskinfinder87

Here are some headcanons about Gale behind the scenes as he pines for you/Tav (Goodnatured, Gender Neutral) Bear with some things that are just regular ole canon for a moment and then I will get into the headcanony stuff near the middle.

Upon Your First Meeting

"I'm Usually better at this." "At Introductions?" "Hah...At magic."

Safe to say that he was well aware of just HOW much trouble he was in very shortly after beginning to travel with you.

The words "Do NOT do this to yourself, you ridiculous, touch-starved man," may or may not have been said to the mirror...or to a mirror double of himself.

But godsdamnit, you just had to continue being...kind and courageous and well spoken and your eyes...and your lips and Focus--FOCUS GALE DEKARIOS

And hells, what a world it would be if he could stop putting his foot so squarely into his mouth.

"Gods, Gale. Really did a number with that thing you said, didn't you? They probably thing you're pompous--which you are--perhaps rightfully so, you are a very gifted wizard..."

He uh...talks to himself a lot. Old habit from the tower, you see. You only catch him doing it a couple of times though, and rarely hear what he said.

"Oh, just thinking out loud, you know!"

Once He's Gotten To Know You A Bit

"Go on, Gale. You're among Friends." "I may just be about to remedy that."

It's hard to pin point the exact moment he fell in love with you. But the realization was nothing short of devastating for him.

As a younger man, he may have been brought to tears reading a tragedy like his. Abandoned by a former lover, forsaken in a plight brought on by wishing to do her a grand gesture, falling for a simpler love...one he may never have because of the orb threatening to level a city in his chest.

Sometimes at night, he watches you asleep in your bedroll, wondering if he had met you as a young man...if he'd perchance seen you on the streets of Waterdeep or sitting at the bar in The Yawning Portal perhaps he'd never wound up in this position in the first place.

Perhaps he would have simply been chosen by Mystra, and not have fallen in love with her.

It feels wrong...even to think it. He wonders if Mystra can sense the betrayal in those thoughts--in the wish that he'd never fallen in love with her.

But it's hard not to feel that way when he has to spend every waking moment next to you.

And when he watches everyone else in camp seemingly falling over themselves to get to you as well.

He makes his peace with the fact that there is simply no way that he can compete with the pale elf who is constantly making eyes at you...calling you darling.

He remembers meeting people like that in school. He remembers burying himself in his studies to distract himself from the fact that he'd never felt particularly charming or even efficacious in matters of the heart.

Of course that all changed when Mystra chose him. Before he'd wooed her, he'd managed to have a few dalliances as a teen, even going into his early adulthood.

But you're the first he's ever wanted to have something with since Mystra had forsaken him.

He still carries the charm he'd cultivated. It's hard not to get at least a little full of yourself when the goddess of magic herself chooses you. Harder still to drop the habit after he'd committed to it, even while sequestered to his tower.

He'd been deep in thought on these matters when you checked in on him one night.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a wizard stewing on matters of the arcane and curious, I assure you."

When he finally has to reveal the truth of his affliction to you and the others in the party, he's devastated all over again. He's ready to once again be banished for his crimes, to be newly punished for his folly, however well intentioned he was in acquiring it.

But...you simply don't... It seems you never do what he expects because you hardly bat an eye. Even when Astarion tells you to kick him to the proverbial curb, you let him stay.

It's that night he conjures the image of Mystra in his hand, turning it this way and that to see if it still hurts to look upon her as it used to.

When you wander over to inquire about her visage, he is relieved to find it doesn't bother him to speak of her, and daunted by the ache in his chest that you seem to inspire in him.

He keeps trying to find a way to tell you how he feels, but he simply can't form the words without choking on them.

Until that night with the teiflings...and well...let's just be honest, the generously flowing alcohol.

He just wants to share a moment with you--a foolish idea to help you experience the weave using him as a conduit. A bit cheeky he realizes--knowing perhaps better than you might the sort of sensual, intimate nature that being connected through the weave can be. But he can't help it, it is the only relief he can find for this torturous pining. To be allowed to be of one mind with you for just a fleeting second is too tempting to refuse.

When You Imagine Sharing A Kiss With Him

"I'm sorry...I wasn't expecting...but it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

How can he convince himself that he won't immediately ruin this? Does he even remember how to kiss? God's it's been so long.

He lies in his tent, banging the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"You should have just kissed them, you damned fool. How long have you wanted this? And apparently they want it, too. And you were linked with the weave! What could have been more perfect? Why didn't you just kiss them, you blithering idiot."

When he doesn't kiss you for a while, you worry you may have made him uncomfortable with the thought. Really, he simply can't find the perfect time between all of the bloodshed and bandages.

He gets sloppy in battle, too worried that someone will take you way before he has a chance to make good on that dream you shared with him. Not the best course of action for a man who can literally implode in the event that he dies.

And then he had to go and say that stupid thing about danger and...other forms of stimulation.

"Perhaps," he tells himself one night. "Perhaps, Gale of Waterdeep, you will actually make a gesture more than a silly joke and a stammering admission of liking to kiss. Your actions so far have not hinted that you will, but perhaps there is hope for you yet."

In the end it's a night where you're near out of provisions that gives him the opportunity to close this blasted distance betwixt you.

He's having a melt down of sorts. About the lack of decent food in camp. How is he to feed all of you with nothing but a few half-eaten apples and a fish head?

You suggest a walk, not far from camp. You're sure you can scrounge up some berries, or some tubers--maybe even a squirrel or a rabbit. In truth, you're not sure you'll find anything, but you can sense that Gale needs time away. Needs privacy. Needs space to simply feel things without an audience.

After walking in silence for a while you ask him if he's alright.

"No. No I am categorically not alright. Not at all. I am filthy. I am covered in goblin blood. The orb refuses to be sated. I cannot find a way to properly feed you so that you'll have the strength to fight another day. And on top of it all--rounding out the depths of my misery--you so bravely showed me the intimacy you wanted to share, yet I cannot for the life of me figure out how to adequately stage that moment so that it is worthy of the splendor that you are."

It's hard not to be touched by his admission, but you don't want him to be miserable. So you make it easy for him. You simply stride up to him and plant a kiss on his lips.

"Is that better?" you ask him. "Now you needn't fret about the last thing."

His simply...gawks at you. Stares in utter befuddlement, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, you're certain you've broken the poor wizard. You almost have the urge to wave your hand in front of his face to see if his soul has left his body. Then he smears his hand down his face and groans

"NO," he says. "No it is not better. That is not a proper first kiss worthy of how I feel about you. I can do much better than a first kiss like that."

You remind him that that was technically your first kiss with him. He is welcome to show you how it is properly done.

You expect the slow burn with him--expect him to have to ponder that for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, before he makes good on it.

But he has had enough of waiting. He drops his bag off to the side and unstraps his bow from his back in a quick flurry of movement. He reaches for you, gently grasping the soft curves of your face and pulling you toward him, claiming your mouth with his own.

It is a frantic, desperate thing, this kiss. Simultaneously overwhelming and buoyant. You find yourself lifting up onto your toes and leaning against him as he tilts his head, seeking some opening to taste you, to feel you on his lips.

Your knees buckle, and his hands move from your face to catch you, crushing you against him as if he wishes to match every curve of you to every corresponding curve of his own body.

His lips are soft, though they are posessive. When you finally allow him across the threshold of your lips, he tastes like that fragment of weave you shared with him. He tastes of pure connection.

And then, just like that moment, it is over. You're left panting and weak as he holds you against his chest, his face flush, his brow gently curved with worry.

You blink dreamily up at him. "Oh." you say.

"'Oh?'" he asks incredulously. "Please tell me you have more to say than 'Oh.' Or at least specify the quality of that 'Oh.' Hells, if I'm to get any sleep at all--"

You simply lift your fingers to his lips, pressing the tips to quiet him. "Consider me properly schooled in how it's meant to be done," you say. "You're an excellent teacher."

He heaves a sigh. "Oh," he says. "I know."

I hope you enjoyed this! I'm sorry if it's not as satisfying since it's a lot of like...subtext for canon things. I have more Ideas but this is already quite long. Do let me know if you would still like to see more or if you have anything you'd like to see or expand on with an actual small fic. I have been having so much fun with these.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 gale #bg3 gale fanfic #bg3 gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale headcanons

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thewinchestah · 4 months

Text

"Good things come for those who wait" - Alastor x reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, spanking,degradation kink, praise kink, Angst with a happy ending, fluff, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etc

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Word Count: there's no point guys. I can't stop talking.

A/N: WOAH!! Hello everyone!! What the fuck?? I wasn't expecting my "debut fic" to blow up like that! Thank you so so much to everyone who took the time to read it and leave a comment! I'm truly flattered by your praise. So, I hope this sequel to "PREY" does it justice! (but it can also be read as a standalone). Let me know if you guys like it, and if you have anymore ideas/suggestions! I'm tagging everyone who asked me to, so if you want to be tagged on my next fics let me know! Without further due, here comes that mostrosity of a fic! Hope you like it <3! (UPDATE: PART 3 IS NOW UP!!)

Part I | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Taglist: @smallershorteranduncut @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby

It all started, as many things do, with a joke and a simple misunderstanding. Dying and instantly going to hell is not easy. Being in hell and not understanding why the FUCK you are in hell is confusing, frustrating and sometimes drawright ridiculous. There’s no guidebook for the hellish afterlife, and more often than not you felt lost at sea, drowning. Until you found your questionable lifeline, the Radio Demon.

Somehow said demon clocked really early on that you were completely infatuated with him, but too scared to act on it. And oh, how he gave you enough reason to be infatuated, enough reason to be scared. Luring you into the most delicious trap, Alastor had claimed you as his. His to breed during the height of his heat, his to care for, his to inflict the most heavenly torture.

Being caught up in the middle of the living myth that was the Radio Demon was a dangerous thing, you had been warned over and over again. So of course that you had to almost fuck everything up in the silliest way possible.

The obnoxious TV set, also known as Vox, had just started another round of his futile attempts to win Alastor’s attention by airing the most absurd reality tv character assassination ever. You would put money on the fact that the obsessive flat screen was a deceased TLC producer. Usually, any of his pompous i-hate-alastor-so-so-much!!! fits would be met with enthusiasm around the Hotel. Everyone would cramp in front of the TV and make fun of the entire ordeal. Even Alastor would tag along and make a private edition of his radio show while he counter-narrated that nonsense. It became a fun bonding activity for everyone involved, it was a nice thing. But there’s a reason why you can’t have nice things.

Today the Hotel was mostly empty:, only you, Angel and a very on edge, sexually frustrated, irritated Alastor haunted its posh walls. Still, you and Angel carried on with the little tradition sitting side by side in front of the tv not knowing what to expect from today’s “My Strange Addiction - Alastor’s Version” episode. It was truly a laughable attempt of a character assassination, actors who could not act saying things like “Alastor isn’t even as bad as everyone says, his torture tactics are not that special either. My mom’s aunt was tortured by him and was going to work 10 hours later”, “i walked down the street today and alastor didn’t even try to kill me when he saw me crossing the street, he’s all talk” “i have video footage of the self-proclaimed cannibal eating a chocolate covered strawberry. He’s cannibalbaiting.”

“no self-respecting overlord would go out wearing those ridiculous out-of fashion clothes”.

Angel was having the time of his life leading the daily Vox roast session, the spider was funny and you couldn’t hold the laughs. The camera cut to a close-up of Vox, babbling on about technology and the anti-Radio Demon speech you knew by heart at this point. As if on cue, Alastor entered the room. But the pair of you remained oblivious to his presence.

“Toots, you totally should apply for this show! I mean it!. I’m sure Vox will buy literally anything you say. Anything! If you say Alastor likes to eat red nail polish cause it looks like blood he would believe it! You laughed at his words, what a ridiculous thing to say. You loved red nail polish, alastor drinking it because it looks like blood is absurd. “I mean, look at you!! Look at this face, these eyes!! This body!!!” Angel gave your thighs a playful slap. “If you say hell is actually cold using all that i would eat it right up. Vox will be too busy staring at your boobs to notice you dropping that even the oldest radio looks better than that fucking flat face”. The thought that you were the mind-numbing type of beautiful made you laugh. Sometimes you felt like your friends were being way too kind with the flattery about you. You were nothing special at all. It was nice of them to be kind to you, adapting to your new lifestyle was taking a visible tool, anyone could tell. Their efforts were honorable and sweet, but you just couldn’t let yourself believe what in your heart, you knew was a lie. A beautiful, comfortable lie, but still a lie. You weren’t much, you were just lucky. You started to laugh even harder, out of pure nervousness as your brain started to snowball into all the things you weren’t.

“ Seriously Angel, you have the strangest ideas ever!” you tried to sound normal, putting up a confident facade. That helped, a lot. You had picked that up during your days with Alastor.

Speaking of the devil, Alastor wasn’t amused by your little display. Standing on the corner of the room as you laughed, he made himself known by walking out of the room, in hurried steps. If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t think much of it. But you weren’t anyone else. You were Alastor’s.

And that’s why he was seething with rage. His rut always drove him, an already unpredictable man, to the brink of true, pure instinctual insanity. He had to grip his marvelous constructed self control painfully hard. Since your paths crossed, the most chaotic part of his existence seemed in control, your pretty little body always ready to take him, your eyes always holding his gaze in a maddening comfortable way, the way you would push your limits just for him.

Only for him.

And the worst part was your softness when it was all done. Alastor would fuck you rentless, for hours, making you take all the mess of his most animalistic desires without a second thought. Both of you would be spent, bathing in the afterglow, room smelling like sex, and you would ask him if he needed anything. Him, that just fucked you so hard so won’t walk straight for a week, that feasted on the blood of the love bites he inflicted, him that covered you in a painting of bruises.

How could he not want to just lock you inside his lavish room and give you all the rings of hell? to carve his name deep into your soul? to dote on you? to make him the only thing on your mind as he makes you his time and time again in the most sinful ways?

It was simple really, why he was shaking with anger: how you, who was his, was even thinking of being in the same vicinity of that scum of creation? LAUGHING AT THIS ABSURD CONCEPT. Vox thinking of you was already a crime punishable by painful death, but Vox looking at you was heresy, and the entirety of hell would pay for his transgressions.

As Alastor stormed off towards the Hotel’s large room corridors, he took several calming breaths. Losing control like this wouldn’t do anyone any favors. In the troubled waters of his mind, Alastor could only think of 3 things: you, fucking you and murdering someone.

So he didn’t even realize your hurried steps trying to catch up with his long strides.

“Hey sugartits! Don’t take too long doing whatever you need to do! there’s a woman going live after the break saying she saw Alastor eating an entire packet of PAPER TOWELS!!! HAHA! This shit is too good to be true!” you heard angel scream.

Adding insult to injury, nice.

Trying desperately to reach your demon lover gait, you could only think about how bad you had messed up. Alastor was your only true respite in hell. He was a blessing in a mist of the worst humankind could offer. He made you feel hope, more than making you feel alive, he made you feel glad you’re dead. The Radio Demon felt like coming home. You just wanted to make it up to him. You could not lose this, lose him. You were not sure you would survive it. And who knew where you went after dying in hell?

It doesn’t matter where you go after hell, it doesn’t matter at all if Alastor is not there. Your brain added to your inner monologue. True.

“Alastor! Wait” you shouted. He stops dead on his feet.

Finally, those long long legs of his do not make chasing after your love any easier.

“Alastor, I'm so so sorry. Angel gets way out of line sometimes and I was nervous” he is perfectly still, ears pinned back, listening. But doesn’t say anything back.

“Al I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, at all. Look, let’s try to do something to make your day better. I know how hard this season is on you, I know you feel like you are losing contr-

Uh oh.

oh shit.

You used the two forbidden words together. The temperature in the room drops, Alastor snaps towards you. You feel something gripping your throat mercilessly, as you fall to the ground. Looking at the other end of the corridor Alastor has you on a leash of his magic. Eyes burning red, forehead marked “x” he grips your chains hard, pushing you towards him.

“That was a brilliant speech, little doe. Truly marvelous! I’m sure your television debut will be quite the show you were planning!”

His antlers were growing, his demon form showing itself as he becomes taller and taller over you. All bared teeth and flashing red eyes. This is what everyone warned you about. Don’t get in the Radio Demon’s way, he is dangerous and insane. You will regret it.

Hot. your brain thinks. He pulls your leash even tighter, and you feel wetness pooling on your core.

“Do you have any idea what I was about to do before I heard you so selflessly offer your services to that pathetic excuse of a demon?” Dragging you by the magic chains, his towering frame comes down to meet you at eye level. You can’t say anything back, your brain short circuits and goes AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“You know better than leaving me waiting for an answer at this point, pet” He grips your face using his sharp claws,the pressure threatening to break skin. “But you seem so hellbent on being a bad girl today, I shouldn’t expect your usually good girl’s behavior, should I?”

You are, once again nothing but a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes

“One should always know better than expecting their fantasies to be true”

His sclera goes black, only the tiny blazing red radio dials devouring you as he stares so deep into you, you feel feverish.

“But since we are already here. I. Will. Tell. You.” static picks up around the room and surrounds you both, the corridor is illuminated by an eerie green light. You start to kinda fear for your life, but Alastor has you completely hypnotized by the radio dials on his eyes. You shiver in anticipation.

“I was coming to ask you, to please, spare me a part of your day, away from you friends. Because the only thing on my mind has been you. Fucking you. Sinking my cock so deep into your tight, wet cunt it would mark your soul. Because you are the only one who can take me like this, who deserves being bred by me, who deserves every drop of my seed”

You feel the wetness on your panties grow until it runs down your thighs. There’s nothing right about this, but your dear Alastor showed you long ago how the concepts of right and wrong are meant to be skewed.

“But oh well, you seem to have your affections directed elsewhere…” he tsks at you using that delicious mocking tone. “But, you can’t blame a desperate man for trying” he goes from 100 to 0 really fast, his voice softens so much in a way that’s almost too heavy to hear after all that. Even with his demon form still very much present “Do you still want to make my day better, pet?”

you are at a loss of words, but you manage to nod desperately. The anticipation of what he is going to do to you makes you giddy.

He manhandles your leash until you are on your knees in front of him, tugging on the chains so you look up towards his crotch. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his cock out. Hard, angry hot red coloured. Angry because of you, angry for you.

“Open wide, little one” and without much more warning, Alastor is fucking your face, hard and fast.

You position your arms behind your back as quickly as you can. You know how hard it is for him to be touched when his rut is peaking. The overwhelming need for relief mixing with his ever present desire for control. This is about him asserting his dominance over you, making sure you don’t ever forget where you belong: In the warmth of his burning gaze, under him, on your knees, while he merciless fucks your throat into compliance. He’s taking it out on you, and you fucking love it.

He’s not saying anything, only growling like he’s about to murder someone. He grabs fistfuls of your velvety hair, but never leaves the white knuckle grip on your chains. You can only resist the urge of playing with your pussy while he thrusts so deep you feel his monster cock. hitting the back of your throat. This is about him, and you want to give him this so badly your cunt is throbbing with desire

Tears wet your cheeks, your lips around his cock are the definition of renaissance art to Alastor. He’s almost over the edge now, the head of his cock twitches on top of your tongue as a warning of his approaching orgasm. It’s hard, it’s hot, it’s fast and it’s angry.

Alastor cums, you swallow as much as you can, but he takes his cock out and spills everywhere, coating your hair, your face. It’s so deliciously erotic Alastor can’t resist catching some of his cum and running his hands throughout your velvet locks, bathing you in his essence, marking you once more. There’s still a bit of cum on the tip of his claw, he feeds it to you, and your lips wrap around his fingers as you take as much of him you can take, gladly.

“Oh how beautiful you are when you ruin yourself like this for me, my little doe” You look up at him with adoration and a lustful gaze, his eyes hold an equally lustful gaze and… something more. Something that you are sure will drive you insane.

Alastor notices the pooling mess underneath your tights, he knows how desperate you are for relief, but he still wants to self indulge on you. He’s certain you still don’t understand the reality of what he is feeling. Swiftly he topples you down the corridor’s carpet and places himself between your legs, his crawled finger tearing your lacy panties away.

Then, he feasts on you like a starving man, and he might be, because you taste like the ambrosia of the gods and he can’t get enough of it. Of how you make a mess of yourself for him and there’s still something for him to take. You just taste so sweet, what a perfect meal your nectar makes. His wicked silver tongue polishes you, aided by your whispered sighs, his name moaned like a prayer on your lips. You are so so close, alastor sucks on your throbbing clit you are already seeing stars, all you need is a gentle push.

Grinning like a devil, Alastor looks up, tilts his head, gives you the most wicked-and-douchey look in existence. He gets up, your leash dissipating into the air and walks away in perfect composure, like nothing happened. Nothing at all.

“Well, I think that’s my cue!!” he says in his usually chirpy tone. You just stay there, flabbergasted. “I just remembered I still have a lot to do today! Work never stops when you maintain a facility like this in tip-top condition!” Already halfway across the corridor, Alastor’s head turns towards you “Still want to make my day good my dear? Be a doll and clean this mess up, will you?” you just stare at him, too fucking stunned to speak. You can’t believe it. That fucking devil. He’s about to make the turn towards the elevator and disappear when his eyes flash red as he warns you “Oh! and don’t you dare make yourself cum without my permission. If you cum before I say so, you won’t be cumming for a week. Choose wisely!Let’s see who loses control first Ha Ha! This will be fun!”

Alastor can be a psychopathic demon in heat, but before all that he still is a psychopathic demon who loves torture.

And he just left you all hot and bothered.

–

Alastor knew better than believing in such things as heaven or holiness. In fact, Alastor was positively sure nothing was sacred. The concept of sacredness was non-existent in his book.

But his skeptic mind danced on the edge of belief when he touched you. To be inside you felt heavenly, heavenly in a type of way that should not even be allowed in this place. The way your lush body burned underneath his wicked gaze was sacred.The way you always presented yourself to him, with selfless abandon was sacred. Somehow, someone allowed him, of all people, access to a soul he frankly didn’t understand what was doing in hell in the first place. He never was the better man. He was never giving that up.

In all of his nature, Alastor felt the most sinful pleasure in defiling your sacredness. He wanted nothing but to take the heavenly thing you were and taint it with his darkness.

He was well acquainted to torture and had no shame in inflicting the most delicious and depraved type of it on you ,until all of your holiness was irrevocably marked by him, down to the core of your soul. Of course Alastor didn’t buy your soul. He didn’t need to use those means to completely own you. He did it effortlessly, because you craved it. Because he craved it.

That’s why the thought of Vox even looking in your way was heretic, and not in a good way. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to Vox. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Period. You were his.

But adding that man into the equation just made everything more intolerable. The things he would do if he found out about you… Found out that not only you were his but how you could make someone feel. How precious and undeserving of anything less than good you were…

You were made to be cherished and protected. Protected by him.

In fact, it took all of the Radio Demon’s willpower to restrain from walking to the Vees building, and kill Vox for something he didn’t do. Because Alastor wouldn’t allow the thought to even cross his mind. All that, a messy display of his desperation and loss of control. Giving that prick the smug satisfaction of knowing somehow he got to him, in his last moments.

Damn, his rut truly did make him on edge.

Suppressing his murderous thoughts, Alastor focused his mind into something he as actually good at: torture. Yours specifically. He still wanted to punish you for making him feel like this. He still wanted to make you understand.

And he just thought of the sweetest way to do it.

After cleaning up the mess on the corridor, and yourself (you did it all on autopilot, still trying to understand what the FUCK happened) you still had to give Angel a satisfaction about why you didn’t come back. You must’ve looked really miserable cause Angel just hugged you really tight and ordered you to bed. When in reality all of your efforts were now focused on masking your humiliating arousal. So you find yourself lying in your bed, trying not to think anything Radio Demon related. You’re totally not thinking about the way he looked at you while he fucked you. The way his eyes would search yours in a crowded room, winking playfully at you. An inside joke. A promise.The way you both playfully banter at the dinner table over silly things. You are also totally not thinking about how he takes you, how you love to hear him saying “good girl” to you after you push your limits again, only for him. Not thinking at all about how his cock fills you so perfectly, you truly feel empty without it. Who’s thinking about what hides behind his eyes when he his voice goes all soft in the middle of a rough fucking? Ha ha!! Definitely not you.

You punch yourself with your pillow.

C’mon don’t think thoughts of Alastor now…

You are so fucked, and not in a sexy way. The worst part is that you want to endure it, you want to be good for him. Your pussy is aching to be touched, your mind begging you to have thoughts of Alastor while your pussy is being touched. But right now you would give everything in this world to hear him praise you again. You know how hard his rut is on him… He already carries a lot alone, the Hotel, the doomsday clock of extermination ticking closer and closer everyday. Plus the other things… You know there’s something more, something that haunts his nights, but it’s not your place to ask. Hell, you are too scared to ask. You just hope, you just pray that when it happens you are beside him. You don’t ever expect the Radio Demon to ever ask for help, or open up. Or seek comfort. Oh, he’s anything but comfortable. But you like to think that in time, he would feel comfortable enough around you he could let something slip, a tiny detail to add to your “The Mystery of the Radio Demon” clue board. Something that would let you show him he doesn’t need to pick himself apart, carry all these burdens alone.

Great, you are doing amazing at the “not thinking any Alastor thoughts” game.

You hug your pillow closer and look across you window as you start saying out loud a list of things you need to do around the Hotel. Maybe this will take your mind off the devil.

Tend to the Venus Fly traps of the gardens. (You could ask Nifty for the bugs)

Write the thank you letters to the new guests that agreed to help with hotel chores.

Tell charlie about your book club idea using cool flashcards

It’s your turn to organize “Theme nights”, maybe Alastor would enjoy a “great gatsby” theme, right?

Great, Alastor again. You sighed.

Suddenly a red note written with perfect penmanship flies next to your spot on the bed.

“My darling doe, I’m waiting for you in my chambers.

Don’t take your time, we have much to discuss.-

Yours, Alastor.

You take your time, though, to thank anyone who’s listening as you sprint towards Alastor’s lavish room. You feel dizzy, anticipation like butterflies in your stomach. You don’t have to knock more than once for him to let you in.

He’s on the edge of the bed, looking like his normal self (as normal as it gets for Alastor)

The taps the spot next to him on the the bed

“Come here, you darling thing!”

you don’t waste a second, and as quickly as you are sitting on his bed, you are sitting on lap. Holding you close, in a vice like grip with one of his arms, Alastor starts talking

“How was the rest of your day, my dear?” you open your mouth to start talking, you have so much to say to him. That you were a good girl, that you were ready to do anything to make up for laughing at Angel’s stupid idea of seducing Vox. You are ready to beg for your release. to ask how his day was. But you don’t get to utter a word.

Alastor quickly and swiftly maneuvers you: now your feet are dangling from the bed, your ass and legs sprawled out across his lap. A powerful arm locking you to him by the small of your back.

Holy fuck.

“Well my day was downright awful! You see I overheard my pretty pet laughing at the prospect of seducing one of my most infuriating enemies. I’m in the peak of my unforgiving rut ,and all I wanted was the shared pleasure of our bodies as I fuck the darling thing senseless!” he pinches the back of your thigh, hard. You blur out a soft, desperate sigh.

“Of course, the good girl she is, she went begging for my forgiveness. I didn’t fully give it, of course. That was a harsh offense, what my little doe did. But I did have my fill with her” You try to spea-

Alastor audibly shushes you.

“I did leave her all hot and bothered after spilling my cum all over her maddening little body, of course. I contenplated murdering the bastard demon so he wouldn’t get a chance of even knowing about her existence and what she does to me. But I still suffered with the hellish need of fucking her into oblivion, and pondered a lot about divine justice. So, if I had to suffer this entire day because of her offenses I think it’s only right for that darling doe to get her fill of suffering and punishment hmmmm?

You try to look back to his face, but you feel the familiar sensation of magic wrapping around your throat. The leash, you are so so fucked. You couldn’t be happier about it.

He tugs at the chain, so your skirt rides up and your ass is totally bare for him and your head is buried in one of his fluffy pillows. With a snap of his fingers your panties disintegrate.

You shiver at the thought of what’s happening next, a delicious sensation that flows across your back and ends up inside your cunt, beginning to turn into a wet mess. He’s gonna spank you like the bad girl you were. He’s not going to be gentle about it either. You can’t wait. It’s gonna hurt, it’s gonna sting, it will leave you bruised. It will be deliciously wicked, like all of Alastor’s punishments.

You feel another surge of magic, behind the powerful green glow something materializes.

Your horsegirl days back on earth don’t let you down. You recognise it instantly. On his previous free hand he’s holding a riding crop. A big, leather pointed riding crop.

He’s going to literally whip you into submission. You squirm inside his arm. You can’t fucking wait. You’ve made yourself come a few times after the thought of being literally tamed, broke by alastor.

You whimper. Alastor’s laugh fills the room.

“So this is how this is going to go, pet. I’m going to whip you lovely ass like the ungrateful slut you are and you are going to thank me for it after every crack of the whip. I’m gonna do this as many times as I see fit. Until your ass is as red as my hair. Until you understand what you did. By the time I’m done you will be begging to be punished more. Are we clear?

You can’t look back at him, but you can feel how his red irises make your skin burn. You like to imagine that his eyes did the thing where they soften for a heartbeat, if you blink you miss it. Waiting for your permission, even now. You are able to muffle a “yes, oh please Alastor, yes”.

“Lovely.”

crack.

He didn’t even gave you time to process. The whip lands hard on the back of your left thigh. You let out a scream.

“Well?” he asks impatiently as he waits for your “thank you”. Seeing the way the spot where the whip landed turn a lovely shade of scarlet isn’t helping him hold his resolve either.

You wanna do this right, you need this as much as he needs it.

“thank-”

crack. the whip lands on your right thigh, a little lower.

“tha-”

crack.crack.

He whips you even harder, cutting the wind as it lands twice on your left buttcheek. Only four cracks down and you are a whimpering mess. You wiggle instinctively on his lap, seeking some friction, some relief. It hurts so bad, but it feels so good. You don’t know if you can take more. You want it anyway. “thank you, thank you” you whimper. Tears wet your face, arousal wets your core adding to the mess from before he even started.

crack. crack.

He mirrors his movements to your right buttcheek. “thank yo- Holy fuck Alastor”

one more hit, now hitting both of your buttcheks.

“I’ve told you many times before pet, there’s nothing holy about what I do to you. I’m gonna break you and then breed you. I won’t give you a moment of respite. And maybe by the end, when your legs are shaking from holding that orgasm you have been desperately chasing since this afternoon, I will be merciful and let you find your release. And we will know who’s really losing control here”

How can he do this to you with only his voice? You are not sure you’ve ever been so aroused in your entire life. You’re so wet, you’re staining Alastor’s pants. As close as you will get to marking him.

There’s a draft coming from the forest of his room, it softly kisses your abused skin, making it sting. You want to see the state of your lower body so badly. The way you’re submitting to him right now, the most sweet form degradation possible. Your eyes are clouded with tears, that line between pain and pleasure being blurred in ways only someone like the Radio Demon could cross. He tugs on your leash, to attract your attention from the sinful, unholy sensations you are feeling so openly, back to him.

Alastor drags the leather point of the whip across your throbbing cunt, collecting the obscene amount of wetness there. “By the 7 rings of hell, what do you have here? Are you such a slut that you are creaming at being whipped into compliance? I could do this all night long. Your ass is already red with regret for your actions but I’m not sure you learned your lesson yet.”

crack. The whip this time lands on your juicy cunt. Your hips trash with the sensation, your demon lover’s name escaping your lips like a prayer.You forget to thank him this time, despite your best efforts.

“Are you so big of an ungrateful brat that you want this sinful punishment to continue? Not even bothering to thank me, in hopes it will end sooner. You know what you are. Nothing but a hungry greedy whore for the Radio Demon”

crack, crack. One hit on each cheek. “But I already knew that” and with that mocking tone Alastor lands a masterful final hit on both of your cheeks. He does have a way of proving his point.

You are fucking sobbing now. Tears coat your cheeks, now a colour so vibrant as the rich scarlet the covers your ass. Alastor knows everything that makes you tick. He knows how close you are to cumming. Cumming for only his masterfully inflicted punishment and his voice. Incoherent whimpers leave your lips “please please please” and soft “ohh and aaah, alastor”

He tugs on your leash again, he knows your body like the palm of his hand, and that you are probably entering the mind numbing phase of the pain and the pleasure. But he still wants your undivided attention. He has whipped you into submission, he still needs to fuck you into submission.

“And you even made the mess of yourself stain my pants! My god, you are pathetic. Delightfully pathetic”

Alastor gently runs his clawed hands across your ass, the sharp edges making you hiss. He looks in adoration at the masterpiece he inflicted on you. Your ass and thighs a shade of scarlet to rival his hair, the wetness between your thighs a heavenly invitation. Beautiful. Sinful. Sacred. He will never forget this, and he will make sure that you never forget it too.

“Now, now, we are done with this my little doe” his voice goes extra soft because you can’t see him with your face buried in a soft pillow. “you were so good for me, you always are”

The softness and sweetness of his praise makes you sob even harder. It’s maddening.

He gently maneuvers you further into the bed, making space for himself.

“But now I’m painfully hard, and I still need to bury myself inside that tight throbbing cunt of yours, so deep it will mark. your. soul.” static picks up around you, a delicious omen of what is about to happen.

Alastor positions himself behind you, immediately entering you and bottoming out.

His first thrusts are sharp and deep, as to make his promise of marking yourself from the inside real. He pulls your chains so your scarlet ass is presenting itself to him like the most sinful gift.

Alastor picks up that breakneck pace of fucking, common to him, specially during his rut. He fucks you like he hates you. As hard as he possibly can, to make you know that you are his and his only. That even thinking of someone else, even as a joke, will not be tolerated. You wanted all of him didn’t you? You’ve made that clear, with words, with actions, with the things your body endures for him. So he makes sure to give you that.

Moans drip from your lips in a crescendo, you are screaming now, you don’t know how long you will last. It feels so good. That delayed gratification drowning you in maddening pleasure.

“Who do you think is losing control here?” he asks after a painfully sharp thrust. “Me, or the mess of a slut underneath me? That is screaming my name loud enough for the entire pride ring to know how she loves being fucked like a common whore for the Radio Demon,hmm?”

One hand pulls your leash upwards, the other your hips. He’s even deeper now, you can feel him in your core.

You don’t reply to the question even though you want to, even though you know the answer.

“Again, since you like being bred like that so much you are not hearing me” he takes all of his cock out and enters you at once. “Who’s losing control here? Me, or my little plaything with the scarlet ass from being whipped into compliance like the pretty little brat she is?”

You don’t forget to answer him now, you need to cum, desperately. You withheld your building orgasm for an entire day, you wanted to be good for Alastor. You wanted to be able to take everything he gives you. The pleasure, the pain, the sinful, delicious depraved torture. “Me, I am!” you scream out.

Alastor’s pace is becoming erratic, you feel the shadows of his growing antlers cover you.

“Again” he tugs at your collars. Another sharp, deep thrust.

“Me, i’m losing control”

“And what are you?” his voice is filled with static now, he’s close too.

“Yours! I’m yours Alastor, yours to fuck, to break, to punish” you cry out in sweet pain and pleasure.

Another tug, Another painfully sharp thrust

“I’m only yours Alastor” you finish.

“Good. girl.” he spaces the words out between thrusts, knowing how you relish in them.

“You can come now”

Your orgasm comes crashing down. You grip the sheets like a maniac, your legs shaking so hard Alastor needs to hold them in place. You scream so loud you are sure they can hear you in heaven. You hope they can, so they know. So they know this man owns you. So they know you love him.

Alastor is not far behind, your cunt tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you specially hard and deep know, delayed gratification hitting all at once. He cums so hard inside you, he’s sure he finally marked your soul. The feeling of his cock twitching and spilling inside you, adding to the indescriptible sensation. You are completely over the edge now, you feel weightless, free falling.

You know Alastor will catch you.

“Ah! There she is” you open your eyes and feel a soft kiss on your cheek. You are lying on top of Alastor’s chest, he cuddles you gently, making lazy circles on your hipbone but still buried to the hilt inside you. He still plans to give you all of his cum, all he has during his rut,after all.

“woah, that was… amazing” you say after a while.

“Well, I did whip and fuck you to the brink of insanity my dear. And you came so beautifully for me, you passed out. You’re such a sight pet. I will never forget it.” you blush at his words. You feel so happy.

Alastor kisses your cheek again, and with a final thrust he leaves you with a obscenely wet noise. You are dripping with his cum, it’s running down your thighs, staining the sheets.

You whimper in complaint.

“Ah ,don’t be like that” he laughs, is a genuinely happy laugh. “There’s still plenty of where that came from, but I need my darling doe to rest first” he says. He’s lying you gently on the bed as he gets up. “Don’t leave” you whisper.

He’s out of the bed anyways, and seems to be on his way to do something. You don’t care, you want him back here, holding you. You don't want him to ever let you go.

“Al, i’m truly sorry about today. You know that, right?” You know that I love you, right? You want to say, but you are scared that confession is a little much for today. You see where he’s headed now. He opens the bathroom door.

“Don’t even think about it, my dear. It’s all water under the bridge” he says in his usual chirpy tone, louder than the noise of the bath running. “Now you just need to promise me that you will never even let the thought of that pathetic demon cross your mind, my love”

my love.

“And if he ever does, you will let me know. So I can fuck those wretched ideas out of your mind” Alastor is walking back to the bed now. He picks you up bridal style and carries you across the room. You can’t help the hiss that escape your lips as your irritated skin touches him. “I know, I know my dear. We will fix that right up. I can’t have my favourite doe hurting. We still have a long way to go until the end of my rut, dearest” you don’t reply, you are just happy. perfectly happy. You could hear Alastor’s voice for days without complaining. “But you did look so perfect with that scarlet ass on my lap. Crying from how much you love what I do to you. I hope you never forget that”

You both reach the bathtub, he drops you with all the care in the world inside the water.

“I’m so proud of you. I truly am” the water is warm. The soap smells so nice. He lit candles too. You give in to the soothing sensations. You might have tuned out for a bit, cause you hear alastor calling your name so softly… He says it again, slow, soft, gentle, pleading. As to catch your attention, he has something important to say. “You know how precious you are to me, don’t you my little doe?” “yes” you respond, trying to fight the tears that begin to spill down your face ‘

“Oh my darling girl, why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about. You are here, safe with me. As you will always be, as is your place.”

“Alastor I-I-” your heart swells, you want to say something. You want to say everything you are feeling. How consuming, in the best way possible, your feelings are for him.

But Alastor is always 10 steps ahead.

“I know, I know darling” he kisses your hand “I feel it too.” he says. It feels like a confession, it sounds like a confession. The look on his eyes is the one of that mystery that hides there every time his voice in the midst of your passion.

When you,know you know. your mind reiterates.

“Let me help you dry those tears. Save them for another day” He holds your face and kiss your lips. “The only thing you need to worry about right now is resting and recovering that luscious body of yours, as well as your brilliant, witty mind”

He hands you a sparkly fancy pink soap, and gets up to find the softest sponge he has stored.

“Now, I hope you like the smell of these candles, cause I’m not letting you out of my sight for at least the next four days!”

Alastor continues to chat away sweet nothings as he helps you bathe. Maybe it will take a while for the Radio Demon to say those 4 words out loud. He has enough reason for that, inside that beautiful, complicated mind of his. His actions always speak louder than words, your relationship was proof of that.

Until then, you will always have sacred moments in crowded rooms, you will always have jokes that only the both of you understand. He will always keep sweeping you off your feet in the most deliciously wicked ways possible.

Right now, you have him by your side after everything that happened, you have his heart too. You are sure of that. So you don’t mind waiting for him.

Good things come for those who wait.

#atenção creuzebek vamos lá vai começar a baixaria #author is also in heat can you tell #METE COM FORÇA E COM TALENTO EU TO OFEGANTE E VC PERCEBENDO #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader smut #the radio demon #the radio demon x you #hope uou guys like it!!#VEM DE CHICOTE ALGEMA CORDA DE ALPINISTA #baixaria

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astermath · 10 months

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hey! could I get some hc’s for the series of Dave and the popular girl? swf and nsfw if possible. TYSM!!!💗

omg yes absolutely! so glad you asked, I really love writing for these two <333 don’t know if you wanted nsfw headcanons too but i kept it to just sfw ones for now, hope you enjoy!

would love to hear you guys’ thoughts and headcanons about these two as well :3

“so? whatever.” dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader: landing page.

♡ even though your family is way wealthier than dave's, he still buys you gifts. flowers, your favourite snacks, those earrings you were gushing to him about. yes, you could easily buy them for yourself, but that doesn't matter to him.

♡ you make up for it to him by buying him expensive, rare, limited edition comic books.

♡ one time he cried because of how happy he was when you got him a special spiderman comic. you happily sat on his lap while he explained his favourite parts about it after.

♡ you know that meme that’s like “he asked for no pickles on his hamburger”? yeah. that’s you two. he may be tall, muscly and your city’s most popular vigilante, but he’s also dave. and dave is still getting used to sticking up for himself.

♡ it doesn’t make it any better that your brothers friends still mess with him sometimes. so, you’ve had to set the record straight to them a few times. cussing them out, threatening to beat their asses, or just pulling in your boyfriend for a deep kiss to really drive the point home.

♡ dave does the same thing when todd or marty make a comment about you being a bimbo, or a mean girl, neither of which are true. and he makes sure to remind them that the only reason they’re not getting shoved into lockers anymore is also because of you.

♡ surprisingly, your dad has taken a serious liking to your boyfriend too. he was skeptical of him at first, thinking he was some pervert trying to get into his daughter’s pants, but he sees that not only is dave is smart, he really, really loves you.

♡ and either way, he could never deny his little girl of anything. even if it is loving the biggest dork he’s ever seen.

♡ when you go shopping, he always carries your bags. all of them. not like it’s hard for him, with those beefy arms.

♡ he also loves it when you give him a little fashion show showing everything that you bought. then again, he’d think you’re beautiful even if you were wearing a trash bag.

♡ he always loves to watch you get ready. you think he’s not paying attention, reading a comic or scrolling on his phone, but he’s watching your reflection in your vanity mirror out of the corner of his eye. smiling at the way you look so concentrated when doing your eyeliner, or how cute the pout of your lips is when you apply your lipgloss.

♡ WILL sing along with whatever pop song you put on. taylor swift, ariana grande, olivia rodrigo, he’s humming along at first and suddenly you realise. he knows all the words. and he’s just fully singing along with you because he knows you love those songs.

♡ dave is not much of a gossiper himself, but he will always hear you out when you have some juicy tea to spill. like no way, jessica really said that? god, she would have the nerve, no wonder her boyfriend cheated on her— you giggle, it’s a funny sight, seeing your nerdy sweet boyfriend get so into the drama of it all.

♡ he’s really happy and really grateful that in the end, he’s never a secret for you. you’re very happy to have him as your boyfriend, and you’re not afraid to let the world know. anyone who has a problem with that would have to deal with your sharp tongue and biting remarks.

tag list ₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme @stilloverthinking @durag-tanaka @earth-elemental18 @caxddce @777iii @a-simp-for-broken-people

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97keanu · 11 months

Text

Dave Lizewski x goth!Reader

Premise: Dave sits next to you in History, he's been secretly pining for you for ages, but he's been too scared to ask you out since you're so pretty and your goth exterior is very intimidating for him. To his surprise, he and you are paired up to finish a history assignment this weekend. Truth is, you thought he was cute too...

Tags: 18+ characters/pining!Dave/extremely nerdy and loser!Dave/hard exterior soft interior!reader/reader who despite having a crush on Dave does NOT want to admit it(tsundere!reader)/Mutual pining/mini slow burn into eventual smut/virgin!dave/submissive!Dave + switch!Dave who ends up taking control/reader on top/oral(both parties)/face sitting/edging/no condom/raw/doggy/cuddling/aftercare

A/N: Finalized version 7/8/23, fully edited. I am glad so many of you liked this and I am hoping to return to this couple in the future!

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt

(Ask to be tagged in upcoming one offs of Dave if you'd like!)

Imagines of these two: here and here

Jennifer's Body AU reader x Dave here

UPDATE!!! Read the direct sequel here

It's a normal Friday afternoon and Dave sits, staring out the window and daydreaming about this or that for his last class of the day. Class hasn't started yet, and what pulls Dave out of his daydream is you. You with your all black clothes, black lipstick and dark style. You walk into class as if its nothing, and every time you do Dave feels butterflies fill his stomach. He still can't believe how lucky he was to get sat next to you, even if he's way too intimidated to say anything to you.

You sit down next to him and you keep your face neutral. You know how mean this highschool has been about your style, so these days you hardly give them anything. And after you broke some jocks finger for trying to touch you in the 10th grade, people leave you alone for the most part. To your face at least. You know they probably snicker when you're not looking, but at the very least you can go on autopilot through out the day and go home to where you can really be yourself.

Dave has no idea about this, he thinks you're just the most confident chick in school, and he is in no way in your league, at all. It doesn't stop him from day dreaming about it though. He goes home and thinks about you at night, thinks about what it would feel like to actually ask you out. He's practiced saying it in the mirror a few times even, but when you sit next to him in class it's like he can't even make his voice say "Hello" let alone "Can I take you to the movies this Friday?". What kind of movies would you even like? God, its hopeless. He's doomed to sit next to you pining until senior years up and he never sees you again.

Today you sit next to him as always, headphones blaring The Cure while you ignore the world. You do steal a glance towards the guy who sits next to you in History, and quickly glance away, your dark lashes fluttering. You try not to interact with him because you know if you do, it's going to be obvious you like him. You can't help it, something about the way he's obviously so flustered by you, his big blue eyes gazing at you behind those nerdy glasses, it does something to you. Something the other students would notice and probably pick on the both of you for. Imagine it, the social outcast goth girl and the loser nerdy boy? No way, it's something you're not willing to risk after being bullied from your last school. No, its better to not think about it. Keep your headphones in and look forward, pretend you see nothing.

Your history teacher begins class, so you put away your headphones and get ready to start class. As you put them in your bag, you catch Dave's eyes. He looks like he almost wants to say something to you, and you furrow your thin and arched brows, giving off a "why are you talking to me" energy without even trying to really. It's almost second nature at this point for you, and when you see his cheeks heat up, you feel your heart jump, a mixture of feeling bad for how you come off and a hope for what he might have wanted to say. His hand nervously slides his glasses back up, his big blue eyes blinking away in embarrassment, the words unsaid falling flat in the air and your history teacher gaining the attention of the class.

You turn from Dave, obviously conflicted about what transpired, even if it was brief. It was one of the few times you two interact, but somehow when you sit next to him for this hour long class, it's as if you are interacting. You can almost feel the space between you two, and the times when his foot or your leg gets too close, bumps, barely touches, it's almost electric. It truly makes it hard to focus on class at times, but for the most part if you really fixate on what the teacher is saying, you can get by. From the looks Dave gives you at the end of class usually, he didn't hold up as well for the most part.

"This seating arrangement really was a mistake..." You muse silently to yourself inside your head, a small sigh escaping your lips.

Your teacher begins describing the next history assignment for the weekend, it's supposed to be something about fake "interviewing" someone from the history lessons from so far, or something, you're catching about half of it, but you know they pass out a more detailed paper later.

Meanwhile, Dave is beating himself up for, once again, not being able to ask you out tonight.

"C'mon man, you should have just said it!" He curses himself mentally. "Worst she could say is no right? God...with her, she might actually bite my head off..."

He's practically sweating next to you, his hand nervously tapping the table between you two lightly. Your hand, inches away is trying to take notes on what the assignment is supposed to have because you absorb it better when you actually write it out. As well as an excuse to not focus on Dave's nervous fidgeting beside you.

Dave is biting the inside of his cheek trying to game plan if he can save this, ask you at the end of class, when the teacher says something that makes his stomach drop, but his heart flutter.

"Alright, so that's the basis of the assignment, however, I would like for you to work with your table partner outside of class this weekend and choose which of you will be the interviewer and the interviewee..."

"Holy shit!" Dave could practically jump out of his seat from excitement and fear. This means he doesn't even have to actually ask you out, now you two are forced to spend time together this weekend!

"Holy shit..." You think to yourself. You feel entirely tense, as if you need to run out of the room right this instant, and your cheeks are hot under your makeup. This means you have to spend time, alone, with Dave this weekend. The truth was, you weren't even dreading it because you hate him, even if you try to convince yourself that. No, the truth was...you didn't know if you keep the charade up if you were to spend that sort of time together. Surely, surely...he would notice the crush you had been building for him for the past few months...

The teacher dismisses the class early, letting everyone figure out how they're going to make time this weekend with each other. You could turn to stone, in fact maybe you have because to your surprise it takes Dave's squeaky, unsure voice to call you name to get you out of your trance.

"Yes...Dave?" You turn, almost ridgid, but trying to be neutral, if not kind. Dave is obviously shocked, this might be the most attention he's ever scored from you!

"Well, since we're paired up, I was uh..um..." His doe eyes dart down as he speaks, finding the right words. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to my house after school to work on it?"

You can't believe it, he wants you to come over, now? No way, you can't even hardly bring yourself to move from your seat, let alone find your way over to Dave's house. You find your head giving the smallest, most timid of shakes as you stare at him with disbelief of the situation.

"Oh! Uh yeah no it's totally cool.." Dave senses the rejection and is obviously red faced as he scratches the back of his head, moving those mop of gorgeous dark curls around. "It's so sudden, you probably have big plans for a Friday night, huh?"

The way he's so obviously trying to make this work begins to melt at your icy heart. You shake your head again and immediately Dave is trying to stammer out more, but you finally find your words and work everything out.

"No, that's okay, Dave, I actually, um... I could come to your place around 7pm if that's okay?" Your usually confident self feels a bit wavered as you ask. Dave's eyes shine so brightly you think he may burst, the color in his cheeks different than before.

"Oh, that's totally awesome! I'll give you my address!" He says, with unusually less attempts to speak than normal, he must be really excited about this. You gulp at the thought, and as Dave takes a pen and rips off a piece of notebook paper, you do the same. You write down your number, in case you two need to talk at all between now and then.

You can't help yourself, you put a little black heart next to your number. It's like something has possessed you, you can't even stop yourself. "God...this is just the start..." A part of your subconscious whispers somewhere...

If you thought Dave was over the moon when you agreed to come over tonight, he's downright estactic when he sees you pass over your number.

"This is...for me??" He stares at you, mouth agape, and doesn't even realize what a dumb question that was, but you can't help but find it endearing.

"For if I get lost or something comes up..." You trail off with reasons, but you know you truly just wanted to give him your number despite your reservations. Dave totally thinks the reasons are valid though, he scrambles to put his number on the paper he passed towards you with his address.

"Oh, that makes sense here, lemme just..." His tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth as he scrawls his number. He passes it back to you again, and your cheek heat skyrockets as you see he's also put a heart. He seems pleased with himself and shy about it at the same time, as if this is a secret between the two of you.

You begin packing up after that, and look at him with your lips pursed, unable to reciprocate all he's giving you right now. As you walk away he calls out.

"Alright, see you tonight then!" And you're almost sure the whole class has eyes on your back while you walk quickly from the room, eyes down. You just hope no one decides to dig their grimy fingers into the sliver of hope that this just might work out in the way you're terrified of...

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The sky has started to turn dark, amber meeting violet in wispy clouds above. You're looking about for the address Dave wrote down, but his writing is comparable to chicken scratch. You find the house you think is his, and decide to text the number Dave also wrote extremely poorly underneath the address. You take pause, staring at the heart he returned on the piece of paper, and wonder if you should go through with this. It's not like you can just back out either, both your grades rely on this.

"It's just studying..." You breath out into the chilled brink of nighttime air, and text him you're here.

You are surprised how soon Dave is bounding down the stairs inside before opening the door with a big smile.

"You're here! Awesome, I just got pizza ordered, it's inside!" He does everything but pull you inside, he's so excited.

You feel some of your fears evaporate as you cross the threshold of his house. It's very homey, something your house always lacked. You feel like while its not pristine, it's meant to be lived in, a place where life goes on inside. You can't remember the last time you felt that way about a place, maybe your grandma's house, once upon a time...

Dave ushers you into his kitchen where he's got pizzas and snacks laid out. You can't help but feel like this is turning out more date than study when you see the set up. Your stomach builds with butterflies as you realize he's done all this just for you. You who has ignored him, at times being borderline mean, but of course you would have had to give him the attention he deserved to have truly been mean. That would have been more than you ever had given him by a mile. "Shit..." You think to yourself as you consider the situation.

"Yeah, I figured ya know, you might be hungry and it uh, it t-takes brain power to uh do a study...study date...." He stammers out as he sees your reaction, totally trying to wring out the study from 'study date' the way you do from a wet cloth.

You can't help it, you're flattered despite yourself. No one has ever been this kind to you since you moved to your new school in 9th grade. A part of you is desperate...desperate for this attention, for this connection you so clearly don't deserve. And with a sweetheart like Dave of all people. You feel a lump in your throat, but nod, agreeing with his words. His anxiety seems to have subsided as you do, and he beams a grin at you.

"Yeah! Here lemme grab this," he takes the pizza and a can of soda for each of you with ease. "And we can head up to my room to get started?"

His room. Oh god...

Your legs follow despite everything in you feeling absolutely undeserving of this kindness, your combat boots thunking on the kitchen tiles.

He takes you upstairs to his attic room and you are surprised. As much as it's a teenage boys room, it's also quite clean, and looks really comfortable. He sets you guys up on the bed and pats a place next to him. You settle down next to him, and he flips on a TV across from the bed. You wonder how you went from being here to study, to having pizza and movie.

"I just thought we might like to watch something while we eat..." Dave says in a nervous mutter as he sees your face.

"Okay..." You say, taking a slice of pizza and nibbling a bite. With all the butterflies in there, you don't think your stomach can hold much more than a slice right now. The two of you settle into his bed, munching on slices of pizza and watching some action flick Dave's put on...

After you two are done eating, Dave moves the food stuffs out of the way, and it's just the two of you on the bed. Somehow much more intimate now that there's not a pizza box between you two. You try to focus on the movie, but you can feel Dave glancing at you for much of it.

Dave can't help himself, you just looks so gorgeous, your dark eye make up is so sharp and bold, the thought of you taking control of him, of you pushing him into his bed and using him up keeps running through his thoughts. He even tried to jack off before you came over so he wouldn't be a total horn dog, but here he is, imagining what it would be like to lean over and kiss your black lips. God...he couldn't even ask you out properly, and the only reason you're here is because of the school assignment. There's no way you would be here otherwise. "I'm such a loser..." He thinks to himself, his eyes darting away from your face when you glance over and catch him staring. Instead his eyes land on your hand, laying in between the two of you on the bed, your finger nails black like the rest of your attire.

"Maybe if I could just..." He thinks, imagining himself being bold enough to take your hand, to test the waters to see if something was there. It would be enough that he could see if you have any interest, but wouldn't be as awkward as what he wants to do, which is lean over, take your delicate face in his hands and look you in the eye before kissing you as deeply as he can. Yes, holding hands would go over better than that, he has to tell himself. He feels shaky as one of his hands reaches up to push his glasses back into place, focusing himself to complete the task of holding your hand. The movie plays on...

After what seems like ages of Dave having an internal debate, he raises his hand slowly, deliberately, making a move towards your hand. You seem to be caught in the movie right now, the film is nearing it's climax as you two sit beside each other. If all goes wrong, he'll just pull his hand back and pretend he didn't mean to move it there. "Yeah, like that will work..." The voice in his head chides. It's too late now, he's already practically doing it, his hand hovering over yours before slowly dropping it down, the heat of his hand meeting yours, before softening into a hold.

You let out a small gasp, but don't pull your hand away. Dave is at a loss for words, he doesn't know how to explain it away, he IS holding your hand, and it's clear he doesn't mean it in a friendly way from how red his cheeks get. All you can do is stare at him right now, it's like time passes by in molasses, sticky and sweet. You can't believe it, he's really making a move on you...

What surprises you more is the fact that when your body catches up to your brain, you're moving towards him with fervor. Your other hand comes to the side of his face and you're crushing your lips against his. The movie is forgotten, as well as your inhibitions. Your lips tingle when they meet his, and you can't help yourself, somehow his small innocent touch has caused the dam you built inside yourself to stay away from him to collapse. You're working your lips into his like he's the air you breathe, and Dave is so caught off guard he's letting you, moving along with you as his guide.

"Oh my god, she's kissing me...I'm kissing a girl!" Dave thinks to himself, totally blown away, his eyes wide at first before melting into your kiss, his glasses only sort of getting in the way.

"God...I can't help it...he's so nerdy and sweet, I need to know what his body is like..." You think to yourself, your hands moving wildly into his mess of curly hair, gripping and tugging him into your kiss.

It's the type of kiss that almost hurts its so wanted.

You find yourself pulling away for a moment to catch your breath, and you see your black lipstick smudged both on Dave's pouty, plump from being kissed lips, as well as your own from the reflection of his glasses. You look as if you've totally given in, your eyes filled with a desire you've never seen before. You look back into Dave's vibrant blue eyes and see he's completely at your will.

"P-please...don't stop..." He whispers, those eyes of his pleading for you to continue. God, you want to fuck his brains out right here, and at this rate you think you will.

What surprises you next is Dave taking a bit of control, his own hands wrapping around your waist and bringing you on top of him, his hands grabbing into your gothic hair style, and your lips colliding once again as Dave let's out a whimper into your kiss. You can't help but moan back, the sound a dull vibration between your lips. Dave kisses sloppily, he wants you so bad and he's never kissed a girl before, that much is clear. You bite his lower lip to slow him down and take control, his body jumping from the bite, and where your legs straddle him you can feel his hardness against you as he bucks. God, he's like putty in your hands.

Dave can hardly contain himself, his hands roam your body freely, at some point one of his hands finds it's way under your skirt, gripping your hips and running along your stomach. He doesn't want to go too north or south without your permission, scared to run you and the pleasure you're giving him off. You can tell, and moan in a way that signals your frustration, before releasing your hands from where they're knotted in his curls and grabbing his wrists. You guide his hands underneath your shirt and sit up on him, letting him explore your breasts over your bra as you slip your shirt off and quickly discard it on his floor. As you look down, Dave's eyes are wider than ever, totally encapsulated by your body, his mouth hanging open and stained with your dark lipstick.

"God...you're so sexy..." He mumbles, not even sure what he's saying, just that he's in total awe of you. He's wanted this for so long he feels like he's accidently just convinced himself that you're really here, really doing this. It's as if you're a dream come to life instead of actually straddling him on his bed.

You reach back and undo your bra, the straps sliding down slowly before you pull your bra over your head, your breasts falling out. Dave doesn't need to be told to grab them, he's getting the hang of this. He feels the softness of your chest before exploring your nipples playfully. You smirk down at him as your hips ride him fully clothed.

"Would you like to taste them...?" You say slyly, almost savoring his reaction, knowing how excited he is. All he can do is nod eagerly and say 'Please'. You lean down and let Dave cup your breasts, pulling one of them to his mouth and sucking hungrily. He has dreamed of this moment, thought of it before bed with his cock in his left hand. He never thought he would actually be here, playing with your nipples in his mouth, switching sides so your other breast doesn't feel lonely.

You continue to grind against him, his already hard cock feeling as if he will cum just from you dry humping him. You can feel it twitching, aching to be released from his pants. You slide down his body, his mouth popping off your breast with a soft pop! before he gives out a whine that he wanted more. He looks down at you as you reach his pants, and playfully stare up at him with your devilish, make up smeared smile. Somehow knowing he's messed up your perfect goth make up is turning him on. He even finds himself imagining if he could ruin it more by cumming on your pretty little face. He wonders if you would ever let him and groans as you begin pulling his pants down and letting his cock free.

You're surprised not for the first time tonight, and not for the last. Dave's cock is huge! You had no idea this little nerd was packing so much heat, it's way longer and girthier than any cock you've seen up until now, and even putting your black manicured hand around it is making your hands look so small in comparison. Dave seems almost shy about his cock, he shifts nervously as you gaze at it, mouth slightly agape at his size, and Dave wonders if you don't like it.

"Is it...okay?" He finally squeaks out from nerves, and your eyes dart back up to his, dragging out of the trance the sight of his cock put you in. You begin to stroke him and nod.

"More than okay..." You say as you feel your cheeks heat up, your mouth watering just thinking about sucking him off. You hear Dave whimper out from your touch, his back arching into you, his hips bucking for more already. He feels so sensitive, as if your touch is too much.

"Please be careful...I don't know how long I can last..." He warns you, and the idea that you get to edge him until you want him to cum has your legs clenching from the wetness unraveling there. You can't believe how your body reacts to his, it's as if every little thing he does has your stomach coiled and shivers running up and down your body. You look him in the eyes as you place your mouth over the tip of his thick cock.

He closes his eyes in pleasure just from that, and you pause. You know you'll be doing a lot of stopping and starting, going so slow, just to keep him from blowing his load early. Dave is glad once again that he has already cum a few times today, if not he would have definitely came from you dry humping him earlier. He moves a hand to your hair, holding and petting you as you begin to go deeper, bobbing up and down in a rhythm that keeps him on his toes. He can't believe how hot and wet your mouth is, and you leave black rings on his cock as you go.

You suck his cock with purpose, finding out what gets him going very easily, and putting a stop to it before he goes too far. He's a whining mess, breathing hard and husky, his voice coming out in a quiver as he speaks your name, begging you. When you think he's had as much as he can take right now, your lips satisfyingly pop off his cock, and you look him in the eyes, his cock beside your sweet face.

"Now that I've tasted you Dave...I think it's your turn to taste me..." Dave's eyes are heavy with want, but they widen as he realizes what you're getting at. Truly, you can't even believe you're so eager for him, but you've fought it for so long you can't anymore. You know what you want in this instance, and your body isn't letting your brain ruin this for you. You take off your bottoms, leaving you naked before him, his eyes grazing your body with need.

You put your knees on either side of his face, and Dave looks up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes as he stares up from under your pussy.. You worried a bit if he would shy away from it, some men can be afraid of eating women out, especially their first time doing it. But Dave has literally imagined over and over what it would be like to have you sit on his face and to eat you up like his life depended on it. And he does just that.

Without having to give him any pointers, he grabs your hips and presses your pussy onto his face, his tongue going to town right away. He begins with your clit first, sucking the whole thing right away, and you actually have to cry out, your thighs almost crushing his head.

"Sensitive! Wait!" Is all you can say, and Dave seems to get the memo, beginning to swirl his tongue around your clit, playing with it before lightly lapping at it, sometimes with his tongue pointed, others with it flat and tasting all of you. Dave is grateful he ever cared to look up online how to do this properly, even though at the time he never thought he would ever get to use this knowledge.

You're surprised when he even begins to tongue your wet hole, playing with you there before dragging his tongue back up to play with your clit. He isn't perfect at it for his first time, and you likely won't cum from just this, but god does his tongue feel good down there. Dave is definitely not embarrassing himself in this catergory. He even presses your hips, pushing your pussy further on his face, practically suffocating under you from time to time, before releasing himself, his hot breath tickling your pussy. He looks up at you every so often with such a submissive look you can barely believe it. He loves being beneath you, you taking from him just how you like it. His cock is still hard and twitching, you reach back just to give it a feel and you can tell his cock has calmed enough you could probably get on top without him spilling in you right away.

"I want you inside me, Dave..." You whisper down at him, as you pull your pussy off him and he opens his eyes, completely drunk off your pussy, your wetness glistening on his lips.

"Anything you want..." He replies, his eyelids heavy and pleased with everything so far. He wants to make sure you're satisfied.

"In that case, I'm going to cum on your cock Dave...I need you to hold out til I'm finished..." You're voice is so soft, but commanding at the same time, which Dave is crazy for. You can see he's nervous about it still, worried he will disappoint and cum too early, but he nods with determination.

You move down, and position yourself over his red, hard cock. You look him in the eyes as you slowly lower yourself, his tip gliding in, stretching you out already.

"Fuck...." You moan out, your eyes closing as you take him inch by inch. He is completely enamored, watching you closely, and so confused as to how someone as hot and intimidating as you is fucking herself on his cock. You bite your messy lip as you find yourself struggling to fit him all, he makes you feel so full. When you finally do, you let yourself sit there for a moment and take it all in, enjoying the feeling of being so completely filled.

"God, Dave...your cock is so big..." You murmur out and Dave can't believe you think his cock is big, he never realized that, he knew it wasn't small but somehow he had convinced himself he wasn't that big either.

Eventually, you begin rocking your hips, moving up and down as you both gasp from pleasure. You use your hands to steady yourself on his chest while your other hand begins to touch your sensitive clit, working it until it feels amazing, heat flooding you.

Dave holds onto your hips and helps you move on him, sometimes going slower to stop himself. He wants to fill you up so badly it hurts, his stomach and muscles are so tight, his arm muscles clenching and showing themselves as his big hands guide your hips. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer by the minute.

"Dave, you're going to make me cum..." You whisper out as you begin to feel it. Dave looks at you with worry, and asks you something you forgot to talk about before getting wrapped up on the heat of the moment.

"If you cum, I'm going to cum...do we need a condom?" He says, his brows furrowed. You thank god you are on reliable birth control right now.

"It's okay, I have birth control, go crazy..." You say off handedly, not expecting much change in reaction.

Somehow, hearing you tell him to 'go crazy' starts something in him. He almost hesitates, but there's something he really wants to try. You can tell by the look on his face that he is planning something, and with a slight nod you silently tell him to go for it.

Dave quickly lips you off his cock and effortlessly tosses you onto the bed face first. You gasp out, the power dynamic shifting in that moment. You didn't know he was that strong...

He grabs your hips and ass and pulls them into his cock, easily slipping back inside your wet folds and pushing himself so deep you had no idea he could even do that. You moan out his name and grip the pillows beneath you, suddenly feeling like the submissive one now.

"Fuck, Dave..." You breath out and shudder as he fucks you so deeply you can hardly breath right. "I didn't know you could be this...dominant..."

Dave almost chuckles at your comment, but he agrees silently. Something about you letting him fuck you like this has emboldened him, he grips you harder, playing with your ass as he goes. Squishing and squeezing it, enjoying the feel of it in his hands.

You move so one of your hands can be under you, fumbling for your wet clit once again. You moan out Dave's name loudly as he fucks you deeply, your ass bouncing against his thighs with satisfying slaps. Dave can feel you clenching as you get closer, and it's so hard for him to contain himself. He wants to spill inside you so badly, his face scrunches up from the thought, he has to bite his lip to think of something else, even if it's the pain of biting.

"Please...I can't hold on much longer..." He says between heavy breaths and calling your name.

You focus, finding the sweet spot and so lost in his cock fucking you that suddenly your legs are locking up as your pussy clamps down on his cock, your climax spilling over the edge as you moan Dave's name. Dave pounds you harder as you do this, needing to to keep up as you clench around him so tightly it makes it hard to fuck you. Almost as soon as you reach your peak, Dave is thrusting his final thrusts into you, his cum welling up and shooting off inside of you, making a total mess of your pussy. You cry out as he does this and Dave groans loudly, his body shaking and his cock twitching as it finishes releasing.

When he's done, he stays there for a moment before carefully pulling out, his cum dripping onto the bed, and the tip of his cock so sensitive he has to rush to pull the end out so it doesn't hurt.

Dave doesn't even care anymore about being shy with you, he pulls you onto him and snuggles onto your hair, taking deep breaths.

"That was amazing...I can't believe you let me do that..." He whispers into your hair, he could almost cry from how emotional and raw he feels right now, but he holds it back as best he can, not wanting to cry during sex even though you wouldn't have held it against him anyways.

He holds you for a long time, and during that time you can't even speak, the afterglow of your breath and sweaty bodies speaking for itself. You never wanted to let Dave in, and now here you are, full of his cum and sore from his cock, while you lay naked in his bed, cuddling. You end up blocking out any negative thoughts, and realize that it was so worth it. You move and snuggle into his neck, petting his chest, and musing lightly into his skin.

"I'm glad I came over, Dave..." You end up saying, because that's how you feel about all of this. Dave pets your hair and laughs lightly.

"I'm glad you came over too..."

There's no way that history project is getting done tonight.

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x goth!reader #my writing #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #kick ass #Spotify #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years

Text

The Traces He Left Behind

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You had never expected the dog tags to be so heavy, but, now, as they sit in your hands they’re just about the heaviest object you’ve ever held. M.I.A doesn’t mean John’s dead...but it might as well.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Grief, mentions of death, blood, a small amount of gore, angst, fluff (eventually), allusions to intimacy, mention of nakedness

A/N: The number of people who thirst over this man gives me strength. Tell me if you find any errors cuz I barely edited this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

People don’t disappear – they leave traces, clues, marks on the walls, or black scuffs on the floors. Hell, people leave something behind even if you can’t see it.

But the dog tags in your hands give you nothing besides memories, and memories only leave heartbreak; burning in your lungs like you took a bullet there that digs between the soft tissues, spewing blood over the carpet. Heartbreak can’t help you bring him back.

John Price left you with nothing but his dog tags and try as you might, you can’t help but hate him for it.

No evidence.

No trace.

And no body to be buried.

They couldn’t fucking find him.

“This was all I could find,” Gaz whispered, breathless, when he stood on your doorstep a week and a half ago, watching the smile on your face freeze – as if, at that moment, you were caught in a time-loop of opening that front door over and over again to his pained face. You stared at him like you didn’t know him, and, so, he continued, the dog tags in the small black velvet box shaking in his grip as he opened the top with a muffled clack, “I-I’m so sorry, Love.”

I’m so sorry.

That was all they could say, but it didn’t mean shit. That couldn’t have been all that was left. Pieces of metal on a ball chain? Flecks of blood and dirt over the imprinted words and numbers? No. No. No.

Your eyes had withered as they traveled down Gaz’s ceremonial uniform, the brown color with the various medals glinting in the afternoon light of autumn. But the chill of the air never reached you, and all you could think about as your eyes landed, finally, on those damaged dog tags was that John would have hated all the hassle that Gaz had gone through.

He would have snorted in that way only he could, cheeks jerking up as his eyes slid to the side for a moment; always thinking. John's feet would shuffle, and after a moment, he would cross his arms and say something like, ‘putting on the chest candy for me, Garrick?’

You almost heard him say it, his breath whispering the tendrils of your hair near your ears and his comforting presence – like a large Saint Bernard Dog just behind you. You even think you turned around and checked, because one moment you were at the door, and the next Gaz was walking you back into the living room of John’s London home, his arms holding you up. You hadn't noticed, but your legs had given out and you would have hit the floor hard if Gaz hadn’t snatched you up when he did.

The Captain had always let you stay at his place when he was off on deployment – he said you made it more of a home than he ever could, seeing as he was gone all the time. You had only moved in permanently two months ago.

At the end of it, Gaz had placed the velvet box in your hands as you wailed on the couch, agony hitting off the walls and ceiling like a bouncy castle; gripping your face so tight the skin broke. The sound of the Tv in the background just makes it worse. It was playing re-runs of some old black-and-white film, a western that John loved to watch. You always played them so it felt like your boyfriend was still in the house, waiting just behind a thin wall for you to come and annoy him about how you hated these movies.

But you had never hated them more than in that instance.

Gaz utters your name, “...Speak to me, please. Tell me to fuck off or-or something!” All you did was bring the box to your chest and drag Gaz into a tight hug across the cushions, not caring about the uniform or how he shook as he wrapped his hands back around you, rubbing your back.

But you felt the tears on top of your head just as easily as you heard your own stain the fabric of the couch.

The dog tags clinked as they connected, and from under Gaz’s firm grip, you stared down at them before their image got too blurry and you had to blink away the tears again. Damaged metal – that’s all that was left.

You both stayed like that for hours, long after the sun had set, but your eyes never strayed from the tags and in your mind, you told yourself that M.I.A didn’t mean dead. But the sinking feeling in your chest told you it might as well.

Have faith in him, You sniffle, fingering the tags, caressing the imprints of ‘Price, Jonathan’ as your body shakes.

A week and a half had gone by like a nightmare, slow and horrible, and with every second of every minute of every hour, the weight on your chest had gotten worse. It wasn’t like when John lay a top of you, body pressing down in a deep slumber. Most days you didn’t leave the bed – it smelled too much of John you told yourself, but knew it was more than that. You had lost the drive.

Digging your face deeper into the old pillow – John’s pillow that you had begged him to replace as it was as flat as a pancake – your hands clench onto the dog tags from where they lay on the mattress, the cold metal digging into your palm. It was a painful reminder but one you knew you could never get rid of.

In that state of half-consciousness, you liked to imagine that the plain green comforter around your waist wasn’t fabric at all – that the caressing weight was strong arms instead, dragging you backward until you met a firm chest; you could fall back to sleep with the knowledge that the breath on the back of your neck didn’t belong to the fan across the room but was actually John and his nearly silent snores. He always kept you right by him when he was sleeping; hated when he woke up and you were gone, either finding you in the kitchen making a drink to help you sleep or doing other activities like that. You remember vividly when John had woken from a nightmare and you were making a midnight snack in the kitchen.

His panicked breathing had told you first that something was wrong, and when you turned around – there he was, standing at the entrance to the kitchen with a hand grasping the door frame so tight his knuckles were white and shaking. He looked at you like he had feared for your life, and the toast you were about to bring to your mouth had frozen in your grip, peanut butter dripping off the side.

“John?” You had whispered, placing the carb down with a thunk onto the plate, “are you alright, Love? What happened?”

That was the first time you had seen John cry.

Before you knew it, you were rushing over to him and wrapping him in your hold. He hugged you so tightly that night you were only slightly concerned your ribs might snap. Ever since then, with the reminder of his tears dripping into your hair living in your brain, you made a point to stave off the nighttime adventures, instead listening to John’s heartbeat to put you back to sleep.

You couldn’t sleep without him now; that was a fact. A torturous, downright evil, fact.

John had ruined you for anyone else besides him.

Tears slipped from your half-lidded eyes as the memory slipped away from you; turning your head farther into the pillow, you choked on the sob in your throat as the morning light attacked your eyes. You wonder if anyone has ever died from a broken heart before and if you’ll be the first.

But I can’t die until John’s body’s found, You think with a muffled gasp, body curling into itself, I can’t go without knowing.

The boys had come to visit when they were free, all of them had keys and weren’t afraid to use them. They were worried about you, is all, so you entertained the unannounced visits with the same blank look that now lived on your face constantly. Gaz came the most as you were the closest to him – he meant good, you knew that, and he had cared about his Captain immensely when he was…when he was…

He felt an obligation to you and carried a large amount of guilt with him.

Gaz liked to prod, trying to convince you to get out of bed, promising the weather was nice for a walk, on and on. But the world didn’t smell like John, and the faces you would have looked at wouldn’t have his beard or wear that stupid bucket hat or beanie and snort at your bad jokes. You had no drive to leave the house. What was the point?

Soap was next, the jokester trying to lighten the mood at any instance. He tried to make you talk about John, saying little quips, but you never spoke a peep beyond your sniffles. You didn’t want to talk about your boyfriend, the voices in the back of your head talked about him too much already; to the point where it became a chore to think about anything else. At the very least Soap wanted you to smile once every time he visited – he had told you as much. But he left in defeat every time, and although his loyalty was arguably one of his largest qualities, his visits dwindled just like the light in his eyes. He was taking it hard.

Yesterday, though, was different.

Simon had come to the house for the first time. He sat in the plush chair in the corner and read aloud to you from a random book on your bookshelf, not making any comment unless the character's actions were surprisingly dumb or pointless. He never pried like Soap, and never prodded like Gaz. He was just there, and, perhaps, that was what you liked the most about him. When you had asked him to read just one more chapter to you from one of John’s favorite books, Simon had looked up and paused when he caught your eyes, his own minutely widening above the cloth covering the lower half of his face.

It wasn’t so often that eyes like his own were staring back at him.

He had re-opened the book and read until your eyelids had slipped shut, and when you woke up, he was making breakfast in the kitchen.

The smell of burning waffles prompts you to raise your head and look at the ajar door. Burning waffle mix wasn’t a pleasant smell, and your nose twitched in disgust.

You got to your feet and shuffled down the hallways, dragging the comforter with you and listening to it ruffle over the floor as the clanking of pots and pans made your ears perk. Pointedly not looking at the pictures on the walls, you tug the dog tags over your head, caressing the metal before letting the weight hit your chest with a quiet thunk as they connect with your pajama top.

Your bare feet pad to the kitchen entrance and briefly you remember a tight hug before the memory is shoved down as you shake the glassiness of your eyes away. You blink at the scene in your kitchen and a bit of awareness lights in your orbs.

“Are you trying to burn my house down, Simon,” You croak, no doubt looking like the dead walking, “Or are you just really bad at cooking?”

The man was covered in flour, his black clothes layered in it so much so that your eyebrow raised, amusement nearly making you scoff. You shuffled to the island and pulled out a stool with curiosity and concern for the well-being of the kitchen. Hopping up, you watched the trained killer as he turned to you, the waffle maker behind him covered in pale dough.

“Never made waffles before,” He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least, “Didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“You’ve never made waffles?” You cross your arms on the island counter, moving to rest your chin on them before closing your eyes for a moment. For a second you had forgotten that John was dead and just like before the weight was back.

“This was the only good one,” Simon’s voice snaps you back, and your open your eyes slowly. A plate slid across the counter, a slightly burnt waffle sitting drowned under syrup with a fork set on the side. You stare at it for a moment.

“Would it hurt your feeling if I didn’t eat it?” You mumble, peering up from your makeshift headrest.

Simon’s arms were behind him resting on the back counter as milk dripped to the floor, and a sigh built in his chest making his sweatshirt rise before his eyes blinked at yours.

“Yes.” He turned his back and began collecting ingredients, trying to clean up – apparently he had accepted defeat. Your eyes shifted to the plate ahead of you.

“Fine,” You sigh, sitting up and dragging the plate closer, and pick up the fork with weak fingers before using the utensil as a knife and dissecting the food.

Your mouth waters as you shove a piece into your mouth, chewing for a little bit before stopping. You look slowly at Simon, cheeks full, and you blank when you find him watching you closely.

“Did you forget the sugar?” You watch the man’s body tense, eyes darting to his phone on the counter where he was most likely using an online recipe before snapping back to you.

Pressure builds in your chest as you swallow the inedible waffle and feel it travel down your throat. A quick moment later you’re slapping a hand over your mouth and stifling the small laugh that echoes through the silent kitchen. You swore you see Simon’s shoulders jerk proudly for a moment before he turns his head away to continue cleaning.

Around your neck, the dog tags clink together and with your free hand, you grasp them lightly.

You felt just a little bit better, even if it was at the famous ‘Ghost’s’ expense. But who wouldn’t laugh at someone forgetting to put sugar in waffles?

—

No one knows who shot down the helicopter – they say it was the Russians, but who could really be sure? Task Force 141 had so many enemies it could practically be anyone on their list and they could be none the wiser until the forensic team got their job done.

All that John knew was that he woke up in the dirt, the press of metal over his chest to the point where he knew some of his ribs were cracked and that the flames were getting closer to the fuel tank. The annoyance at the blurriness of his eyes was thrown to the side as blood pumped through his veins, some even leaking out from various wounds he has yet to notice.

Throwing his arms out, his muscles straining behind his flame-licked shirt and combat vest, John’s hands find holds on the beam before throwing all his weight into it, desperation and adrenaline giving him all the strength he needs. Violent coughs fall from his lips as the smoke travels up his nose, making it hard to breathe. The shriek of the shifting metal encompasses John’s ears, so it was only common sense he couldn’t hear the screams on the opposite side of the downed helicopter.

“Captain?!” Gaz’s voice was lost behind the wall of fire and grinding earth, “Price, answer me! John!”

John grits his teeth, a growl flying from his lips as he hucks the beam farther down his body, just enough to shimmy his way out with a groan at the ache of his lower body.

“Fuck,” He grunts.

It was a miracle his spine wasn't broken. John’s blue eyes blink furiously as they try to dispel the ash from the corners, instinctual tears tracking down his face as his hands get skinned on the rocks. The smell of gasoline spurs him on, as well as the visible bodies of the other men in the Helicopter littering the remains of the cockpit.

One would think at the only thing on his mind was survival – getting out of this metal oven before it blew to find his men and regroup, asses the damage before calling Laswell for an Evac – but John was haunted by only one thought as his fingertips bled over the ground. He dragged himself on.

I have to get home to her.

His body twists, and in his haste, the glinting dog tags on the ground are missed because of a wave of smoke as they sit, waiting, with their clasp noticeably broken.

John’s shoulder forces away a large sheet of metal, ribs screaming inside of him, but the pain had never stopped him before and it wouldn’t now. The light of the sun greets him, and he only manages to drag himself a few feet away before the entire helicopter explodes in a flash of fire and death, throwing his body forward until it careens over the edge of a large hill, dirt and dust spraying where his body rolls down. At the bottom, John feels himself connect with something solid, and everything goes black in a savage wave of agony.

His last thoughts are of you. They always would be.

—

“I need you to come with me,” Gaz’s voice greets you when you open the front door, your hoodie and jeans not helping keep out the chill of the air as a breeze flows through the door.

“Huh?” You frown, itching at your neck and unintentionally jingling John’s dog tags, “You show up for the first time in a month and that’s the first thing out of your mouth? How about a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’”

Gaz’s face tightens, and his face turns to the side for a moment. You sigh deeply.

“I’m not angry, just sad you didn’t tell me you and the others were going on another deployment. I would have given you all send-offs if you’d just told me.”

“We weren't on another deployment,” Gaz admits, shaking his head. You blink before looking him over.

“Then why are you in your work uniform?” The combat vest and other gear were cause for confusion, and you briefly wonder what Gaz and the boys are up to if not a quick stop by the house.

“When I found out I came here as quickly as possible. But you have to come with me, right now.”

“I-” You sputter, not used to seeing the man ahead of you so serious, “Alright…Let me just get my shoes.”

“Make it quick. For your own sake.”

Tugging on your boots, on the way out you grab your purse and one of John’s black beanies, tugging it over your head before you lock the front door and jog your way to Gaz’s car in the street. You see the man tapping the steering wheel through the window, shadow vibrating with untamed energy.

What the hell is up with him?

The last month has been horrible, especially with the radio silence from the boys. You had assumed they were off somewhere on a mission, but to hear they had been in London the entire time? That just rubbed you the wrong way. Fortunately, things had gradually turned around after Simon’s visit and waffle fiasco a while ago, so their constant check-ups weren’t needed as much as they were wanted.

You don’t even exactly know what happened, but even on your worst days, you had promised yourself not to fall back into the deep pit you were in before. Though, most of the time you never left the house and woke up crying in the middle of the night; gasping for breath, there were good times too. Even if most of them involved remembering activities you used to do with John.

You open the passenger door and slip inside Gaz’s car, clicking the seatbelt over yourself and sending a glance to the man beside you. Gaz doesn’t comment if he feels you staring, just puts his foot on the gas and begins driving down the quiet street. Sensing you wouldn’t get any answers, your body twists so you can look out the window, gazing out and watching houses and people fly past. Your eyes linger on the happy couples in their hats and scarves for longer than normal, and you only rip your eyes away when they become dots in the side mirror.

Feeling Gaz looking at you makes it worse.

Your heart hardens, and you suck in a deep breath, leaning back to rest on the chair. With your eyes drifting shut, you let the bumpiness of the road lull you into a thin slumber. Naps are really all you’ve been able to take lately, and you fall into one quickly as the bags under your eyes burn.

A hand shaking your shoulder wakes you, and a quiet, “Sorry, but you’re gonna wanna see this, Love,” makes its way into your ear. You groan, unclipping the buckle before rubbing your eyes.

“Gaz, I hope you know what you’re doing,” You grumble, looking out and blinking to focus your gaze, “Where are we?” You set out of the car, stumbling before Gaz steadies you with a firm hand on your arm.

“Base,” The man says simply. That wakes you up.

“What?” You gasp, looking around a parking garage where multiple other cars are parked, concrete pillars, and an ascending slope up to large metal doors showing you that you were underground. You had never been inside the base before – sure you had been in specific areas where you could greet John when he returned to London, but you were never allowed in the main building before, “Why are we here?”

You turn to Gaz, but find the man already pulling your arm forward towards the glass entrance doors, fiddling with his front vest pocket. A squeak escapes your lips.

When he takes out his name card and places it on the door reader, he turns and faces you, and a beep sounds behind him.

“I need you to just follow me as closely as you can,” Gaz mutters, gripping both of your shoulders and giving you a hesitant but soft smile, “Alright? I promise all of this is important. Definitely going to be worth it.”

“Well,” You snort, raising an eyebrow, “I’d hope it would be important, you just dragged me halfway through the city. You owe me supper for all of this, Garrick.”

Gaz laughs, turning and opening the door, and keeps it ajar for you to slip through.

“You’ll have to put a raincheck on that – you’re not going to want supper with me tonight.”

You make a questioning noise in the back of your throat, but Gaz just slips past you, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head.

“You’ll see. I can’t tell you all of my secrets.” The smirk on his face makes you roll your eyes, following after him like a lost puppy as you take corner after corner. This place was like a labyrinth.

People watch you as you walk past, and the widening of their eyes gives you an idea of how much they know about you and your deceased boyfriend.

John Price left behind quite the impression, you think to yourself as a group of people coming your way turn in and begin to whisper amongst themselves, side-eyeing you, but I wish he hadn’t had to leave anything behind. Least of all me.

The door catches your attention first, and Gaz hesitates outside of it as the sounds of arguing echo out from under the crack. He holds a finger to his lips and keeps a hand on the doorknob. His brown eyes stay on your face.

“You can’t leave Base, alright!” That was Soap’s voice, sounding much more serious than you were used to, “You need to stay here until you get cleared by--”

“You tell me one more time that I can’t leave until I’m cleared by the Doctor,” Wait a second, “I’ll ring your Muppet neck. I’m going to see her, let the whole bloody base try and fucking stop me.”

The deep voice had a growl staining the words, agitation so familiar it drips off the tone like water.

“John,” You mutter, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest. Without a second thought, you shove Gaz’s arm aside and barge your way into the room, ignoring Gaz’s playful, ‘hey, careful now.’

The door slams against the wall and your feet skid into a white-floored room, the bright fluorescent lights ahead buzzing. Soap and Ghost are both there, the latter trying to force the man you thought was dead back into the hospital bed while the other leans back against the far wall.

Everyone freezes and Soap looks like a deer in headlights with his hand wrapped around John's upper arm, straining to hold the once rampaging man back. But it’s not like you notice, you’re only looking at the man who ruined your life.

John Price looks worse for wear. Even with the hospital gown over his body, you can see the bulge of tightly wrapped bandages around his torso and legs – his arms are connected to medical machines, a needle in his right palm giving him fluids from a drip IV. Oh, but it’s him. That’s your John.

Ruin my life, You think to yourself, Ruin it over and over again if it means you’ll always be able to come back into my arms.

He looks at you with a surprised softness, his blue eyes never wavering from your body as he takes you in with a deep breath. The brown beard on his face is longer than you remember, as well as his hair, and the red marks over the left side of his face say that many of his wounds are old, but have not healed fully. Where had he been? Gone for more than a month and labeled missing in action and he just shows up, black and blue and wrapped like a mummy?

Your thoughts were running even faster than your heart and all you do is stand there and stare at John like he was a specter as the others watched with bated breath. You could hear Gaz in the doorway shuffle on his feet. But you weren't the only person shell-shocked – John still stared at you as well, his eyes running wildly until they land on the dog tags around your neck.

The great Captain’s shoulders deflate, and his eyebrows draw in as blue flickers back to your face. “Oh, Sweetheart…”

That was all it took for you to launch yourself into his arms, jerking forward into his chest with sobs leaving your lips like you had lost him again and not just gained him back by some miracle. John grunts under you, and Soap releases his shoulder with a huff.

“I damn well told you ya’ couldn’t leave. You listen to me as well as Ghost does, Sir.”

Ghost huffs, shoving himself off the wall and taking a few steps forward, “Shut your trap, Johnny.”

Price never responded, because the second he was able his arms wrapped around your body, and as your own hands latch onto the back of his gown, his grip the back of your head; cradling it like a precious object. His other wraps around your waist.

“John,” You whimpered into his chest, hearing his breath hitch as another sob rips from your throat, “What the fuck?” Wet tears stain his garment.

John utters your name as he begins running his fingers through your hair, turning his head down and pressing his nose to the top of your head as he lightly moves from side to side. Your legs almost collapse when you inhale his scent – gunpowder, leather, and spruce trees. That was him. That was John.

“Muppets!” John suddenly calls out, though his voice is noticeably shaky. You manage to pull him impossibly closer, “Get the fuck out, now.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.” Soap mutters, sending soft glances your way that you missed in your state, “good to have you back.” You don’t know if he was talking to John or to the both of you.

Ghost whispers past, grasping Soap's shoulder and lightly shoving him faster toward the door as Gaz happily sighs.

“We’ll be in the Barracks, Sir. Take your time.” The door closes. Immediately John starts talking.

“Love, I’m so sorry. The Helo went down and I–”

“It doesn’t matter,” You gasp, pulling back to grab at his cheeks, feeling his beard tickle your fingers just like it always did, “It doesn't matter,” you repeat, “You’re here – you came back.” A strangled laugh tumbles from your lips as John's fingers begin to clear the tears off of your face so gently, “You came back to me, John.”

He gazes into your eyes so softly you feel like dying – such love leaking from his hold that you finally understand why you were so broken by his disappearance.

You were always searching for traces of him, whether that was in his scent or the faces of strangers – in his books or his favorite films. John was your other half, and having him die was like having half of yourself die with him.

“What have I done to you?” John whispers, fingers grazing the deep purple under your eyes, taking in the lost weight as he grips your waist tighter. He swallows, eyes flicking away, “I should have tried to get back to you sooner.”

Your eyebrows pull up, eyes widening at the genuine pain on John’s face. Knowing that words won't sway his hard-headedness, you blink away the tears and sniffle, moving your hands to your neck. With a swift motion of your arm, you tug the dog tags from your chest and press them between your bodies, your eyes impossibly warm as John tilts his head to gaze at them silently.

Keeping a handle on your tears, you bring your other hand up, grasping and taking off his beanie on your head. Carefully, and with all the love you could muster, you place it on top of John’s hair, whispering for only him to hear, “You were always with me.”

His kiss had never felt quite as good as at that moment.

That night the entire Task Force went out to celebrate – some bar with a classic atmosphere that John was sure to love after his official discharge from the medical ward. And he did, because as long as you were right beside him, and vice-versa, the lights always seemed a bit brighter, the music just a tad livelier.

He kept you in the crook of his arm the entire night, and, in the morning he would tell you he was taking two months off as the light streamed through the curtains; your naked bodies pressed tightly as he leaves trailing kisses down your neck and between your breasts. Soft sighs and gentle caresses you had wanted for over a month that you would never lack again.

But for now, in the soft yellow light, he watched you as you laughed at one of Soap’s horrible jokes, moving to shoulder Ghost to get a reaction out of him before John drags you back into his hold. You go willingly, wrapping your own arm around his tapered waist; snuggling into his chest with a genuine smile. Sneaking a glance up at your boyfriend, you find his gaze already on you, head still covered by that beanie that he wasn’t going to take off the entire night. A small smile rises on John’s lips before he leans down and kisses your head, your face heating as Soap makes a fake gagging sound before you laugh once more.

Gaz watched the both of you, relief bleeding from his eyes as he brings his drink to his lips. Pointedly, he turns his gaze to the dog tags around your neck, seeing the glinting metal with a flash of surprise.

He smiles. He’d have to remember to tell his Captain to order a new pair tomorrow.

#john price x reader #John price x you #john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #MW2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod x you #mw2 2022

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

Note

You seem to draw Donnie covered in Spray paint (pink and blue) a lot. Why is that? What got him hooked to it and why doesnt he have to mix the colors himself?

(BIG fan of the angsty separated au!!!!)

Draxum’s lab is pretty dull color wise, and Three wanted to differentiate his tech from Draxum’s. Huginn and Muninn are the ones who buy Three his spray paints! One of those small, nice things they try to do to make the kid a little bit happy. Purple is Three’s favorite color, but sometimes they’re limited in what they can bring him. (Also the pink and blue colors are a nod to Jinx—It’s kinda funny that her colors, pink and blue, when mixed, make purple)

It would be maximum shock if they all met right when Leo and Donnie rejoined the family, before they kinda started their healing process, cause they’re probably the most different at that point.

Rise!Donnie would be appalled at AU!Donnie, from silly things like the way he accumulates layers of grime without a care—to the rude way he treats April. AU!Leo and Rise!Leo would keep a wide birth from each other and probably stick to a buddy system with their respective brothers just in the hopes that they don’t ever get left alone with the other (their bros of course conspire to do exactly that, so they can get to know each other)

Rise!Raph would probably be really worried about AU!Raph just cause he thought his brother’s make him stressed and tired? But between dealing with Leo’s anger issues, and Donnie’s…everything, AU!Raph looks ready to drop any second. AU!Mikey would love Rise!Mikey, cause he’s adorable, but he’s a little sad when he looks at him, cause he acts just like he used to, before he was thrown into the arena, so he tries to tone down the bad and make it sound more exciting so that Rise!Mikey doesn’t know how horrible AU!Mikey had it.

The Kraang would def be the Rise Kraang version. The movie would take place a little while after the defeat the Shredder. I’m still working out the timeline cause when I was first deciding their ages, I forgot about the two years from the end of the series and the start of the movie 🙄. So I’m doing some reworking on that end. I think I’ll either change them to be a few years older at the start of the AU than I made them, OR the AU and the fight with Shredder will go for a longer stretch of time than it did in the series. That way there’s not a huge two year gap of unknown time between Shredder’s defeat to the start of the movie. EDIT Now that we know the series took place over two years and it was only a couple months between the finale and the movie. Their ages are gonna be the ones listed on their character charts!!

I’m still not even sure if I’ll manage to make it that far, but hopefully we will get there eventually! Cause I really wanna get to Casey. In fact, I’d probably make it less about Leo growing into a more serious role (cause obviously he’s already there), and more about him really accepting the love of his family. We might even see a future Leo come back with Casey?? It would be so hard not to go that route cause I love that idea so much 🤣

But I honestly don’t know yet what I’d really like to do. And I’d hate to give an answer that I’d have to redact later. I’ve got a lot of ideas, but I can’t even think about them, until I put out all the other stuff I’ve got planned. So let’s all cross our fingers and hope we get there some day lol!

2012!Leo would go MOM MODE™️ EXTREME, 2012!Raph and Don would take off like a rocket with the intention of hunting down and murdering Draxum, Shredder and Big Mama, and Mikey would probably be caught between holding back tears and doing his best to tell jokes and ease the tension, or following after his brothers in their murder spree.

Basically as much as the 2012 boys would be thrown off at first over how different the AU boys are from the other versions of themselves they’ve met, they’d go HARD as the protective older bros. But the only one who’d probably actually appreciate it would be AU!Raph cause he never gets to be the little brother lol.

@smoldevelopingcookie @c00k13san2 @luvrbug @organisedchaosstuff @uniqueness351217

Separated AU tag

#ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt separated au #rise of the tmnt #my art #sep!au life #sep!au crossover

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powdermelonkeg · 9 months

Text

Something websites (*cough* Tumblr *cough*) need to learn is that what retains an audience isn't an abundance of new bells and whistles to play with, it's a coherent experience overall.

When someone joins a website, you don't need to grab their attention and hold it. They're already testing the waters. They've agreed to sign up. You've won on that front, and they're there for something specific you already have that they're hoping works well.

What drives them away is frustration.

Frustration, frustration, frustration.

Learning curves are going to be a part of any new website experience; they're something the user comes to terms with, in their own time. But broken or bad features are going to make them jump sites.

On top of that, constantly adding new features makes them feel like all the hard work they've put in to learning what you have isn't worth it; your website looks unstable and your staff looks incompetent, because it gives the impression that you don't know what you're doing.

You are floundering. It makes your new users nervous. It makes your old users hesitate to bring anyone else on board. And why should they? Why should they put effort into it if you're going to throw that effort away next Tuesday? Why get used to a UI that you're not going to bother to keep? Why customize anything if you're going to whittle that customization away?

Between that and the broken, unattended features of this site—the tag organization failing, the inability to look up posts word-for-word, the video player either refusing to play or yanking you to the top of the dashboard, images taking forever to load, advertisements blaring at full volume when you scroll past, you have your problem.

You have the reason why your numbers are failing.

It's not that you're not interesting enough.

It's not that you're too difficult to understand.

It's that you aren't improving what you have, yet you keep adding more half-broken things and unwanted copycat features to the pile.

It's that you're losing your identity in pursuit of a hypothetical perfect customer.

It's that you are actively telling your user base that you prefer those hypothetical customers over them. And your user base, your real people who make you happen, are smart enough to know where your priorities lie.

The bulk of this post talks about Tumblr, but other sites have gone the same way. Twitter is dead and its corpse is decaying in the street. Reddit has sabotaged any trust its users had in its management. If you'd like a really old example—I used to use Fanfiction Net. It's not the most intuitive website in the world, but it was the first one I called home.

I used it to host my works. The adware now on it makes it a hassle to navigate. The bots make comment sections and private messages a dread rather than a joy. So I moved on.

I also used to use it to collaborate on stories with my now-roommate. The message limit was 300 a day. When you're writing dialogue between characters, that's nothing.

So I moved on. We started messaging on Facebook. It was better, it didn't have a limit. But then I learned Discord existed, and I could edit messages, make dedicated channels, etc. So I moved on from Facebook to Discord. And Discord had a steep learning curve, especially if you're trying to make your own server rather than contribute to one. But, most importantly, the payoff was worth it.

If Discord changed its layout every other month while I was learning it, and broke how its reactions worked, and kept shifting what it meant to create a channel? If it opted me into servers I didn't sign up for, in hopes of engagement? If its text never formatted correctly, or its search function only went back a day or two?

I would have gone right back to Facebook. Even if it's a more basic experience, basic is always preferable to unstable.

Figure out what you want, websites.

Slow growth, or a gamble?

You're paying for your magic slot machine in users.

#negative salt #long post #this has been on my mind a lot lately

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virgincels · 1 month

Text

SUBSTITUTE LOVER !

ft. jack krauser x fem!reader, jack krauser x leon s. kennedy

tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, internalised homophobia, referenced domestic abuse, use of the f slur im so sorry, some kreon, smut, a little voyeurism, blood at the end

note. commission for @d10nyx !!!! feeding people what they want :3 nyxie wyxie i hope this is good n i hope u enjoy it!!!!’ LUV U MWAH.. ignore any mistakes… my editing sucks 😓 goes back n forth between krauser n reader pov pretty fast n the smut is a little boring 😓 pretend bootcamp is like not super top secret !!! also idk how american military works so ignore my attempt at that

As a young girl, you understand love to be an unconditional, non-negotiable and non-refundable thing. It’s human nature to love, it is your god given right to love and for your father to deny you of the only thing your heart knows to do—It’s downright cruel.

He’s a military man and that comes with perks. You get to visit his platoon and get an eyeful of bulging quads and strong jaws and sweaty abs— That is the only perk now that you think about it. Oh, and that cute blond dude who still has all his hair. Duh. Otherwise he wouldn’t be blond. He’s a total babe and when he smiles, blinking at you with feline eyes as he watches quietly from behind his bangs, you find yourself keeling over to support the weight of your aching heart.

(Pussyache, heartache, it’s all the same to you.)

Whenever you ask your dad what’s so special about him, why’s he got such shiny hair? What shampoo does he use? Is it a medical condition, does he have to keep the hair? Does his head get cold or something? He goes all stiff like you’ve asked too much of him, which you never have, you ask for nothing but love.

Ever since your mother left—Well, no it’s not even that. He didn’t change when she left. Dad is the same ol’ dad you’ve had for years. Jack is Jack and your mother isn’t going to change that, she didn’t change that, so she left and never looked back. She left you ‘cause you’re Jack’s girl and nothing is going to change that. You carry a part of your father wherever you go and that would be unwelcome in her house. She told you over the phone that she no longer needed all that medication - it was just your father.

Oh, he’s not so bad. Jack keeps you fed and clothed and what else are you meant to expect from a dad? No dads love is adequate to the way you love them. Never has and never will be.

Still, he’s changed and that you’re sure of.

His temper is short, you’re well aware. You live with the guy, of course you know all about it. He flips out when the toilet lid isn’t closed, and when you give him a gentle reminder that you don’t carry the same junk he does down there, Jack gives you the cold shoulder. It’s all about gentle parenting with your dad, but the sulking has escalated into full blown temper tantrums and you don’t know where you’ve gone wrong.

Dad’s never gotten physical. Until he does. And now you don’t remember a time where he was ever kind. You’re beaten into a pulp by the hand that feeds you and you’re not quite sure where it all went wrong, what you’ve done to be on the receiving end of such intense resentment.

All you’ve ever known is a man devoted to anger, but he’s not violent. Your dad is not violent. He’s the one who picked you up when you toppled over, he taught you how to ride a bike and he put you on his shoulders to see the world from his point of view— And that is it really. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t have daddy issues so to say, more so it’s your father that has issues in general, and those issues are untouched by any flame, they burn brighter than tiger eyes. It seems that they’ve started to fracture, and now the only thing that brings him relief is his fist on your supple skin, a cathartic end to a hard fucking day.

Let’s get one thing straight - Jack Krauser is not a faggot. Jack had a wife and he fucked that wife in the marriage bed once and they never fucked again. You were conceived on the first try.

A faggot couldn’t do that.

It starts with Leon S. Kennedy. He’s wet behind the ears and wet in his pink mouth and pink hole. He stares at Jack like he’s seen something nice, then he looks away a moment later, unable to hold his gaze.

Jack Krauser isn’t gay. It just gets lonely out here. It gets hard to keep his men in line and nothing scares them more than dick. Jack Krauser is not gay—And when Kennedy’s tight little hole cranks him in like a wine cork, it means nothing. This is how you get through to insolent brats, it’s the only way, no other method has worked as well as this.

If Jack Krauser was gay he would lounge in the bunk with Kennedy, he would tenderly wipe the sweat from his blond brows and kiss him stupid. But he does none of that. Kennedy is sent to shower, limping as he goes.

(Not before Jack gives him a nice hard smack on his backside and tells him to Pack it up, Boy Scout. Not before Leon presses his nose into the hollows of his neck, his boyish beam is that of a cat that got the cream, sweat gleaming to highlight the shape of his collarbones.)

So yeah. Jack is straight, and he can prove it. He would be able to prove it but the only bitch for miles left him. There’s you. But that’s fucked up. Jack wouldn’t go there.

Then you start to ask questions about Kennedy. And of course it’s him, with the petal lips and tawny lashes that remind Jack of toffee drizzled on coffee cake, of course he caught your attention— Of course he did.

(Like father, like daughter.)

You prod and he snaps, icy eyes a frigid landscape as his gaze pierces you with bone-chilling intensity. You shift from foot to foot, toying with loose threads at the hemline of your frayed nightdress.

“Sorry, dad.” You look down at your feet, wiggle your toes against the kitchen tiles and get sent into the edge of the counter when Jack lands a solid hit on your cheek.

Why, he oughta use some of that military training on you. Not the dick. Not ‘cause he’s gay, but because you’re his daughter. Obviously.

Definitely not ‘cause he’s gay.

Jack could fuck you if he really wanted. You have some, uh, assets. Yeah, you have tits, those are interesting. You have an ass, that’s nice. Got a pussy, an extra bonus. All of those are things that Jack loves. Really, he does, and he doesn’t need to prove it to anyone.

Jack takes your chin in his crushing grip, tilts your head to the left and then to the right, you tremble and make yourself small, clutching at the counter behind like you intend to saw yourself in half so your top half can make a quick escape.

“Dad…” Your little hand wraps around his wrist, fingers barely touching as you try to get him off, shaken up by his sudden burst of violence. “I’m sorry.”

He grunts, releasing you from his hold and watching your body crumple in on itself. You cup your cheek to check for damage, pressing the pads of your fingers into your jaw with a groan.

It throbs with each pulse of Jack’s heart.

You think your dad has a crush on the rookie. It might be a stretch, but he never looked at your mom that way. It transcends love and turns into hatred and heat ‘cause your dad is incapable of producing any positive feelings towards anyone ever. You would know that better than anyone, you know him better than anyone, better than he knows himself.

His tongue runs along his white canines as he watches Kennedy hold a plank and man, he’s got it bad for the rookie. You don’t blame him - look at that form, at that ass. Dad has good taste, he gets it! Now that the two of you have found some common ground, maybe he’ll stop backhanding you into next year.

Kennedy’s given mercy by your oh-so gracious father and his body caves in, hitting the mud with a soft thump—He gets up ass first and you suck in a breath at the same time your dad lets one out. His hips raise and his hands find grip in the ground before he plants his feet, lifting his body despite the discomfort that tinges his muscles. Kennedy hobbles away and you love watching him leave. Dad must think the same ‘cause he reaches down to adjust his cargos. Gross.

You catch them in the showers a week later.

You got bored waiting around for him, okay? The showers were your main priority—Not to see this, but to catch some hunks mid scrub down and turn the place into a porn set. Life has a funny way of taking all your wants and twisting them into half-wants. Seeing Leon naked? Great, amazing, no notes. Seeing your father naked? Dear fucking lord, you need a bullet put through your brain stat.

They're giving each other a muscle massage or whatever. Code for the most tender groping you have ever seen in your life. Dad cradles the back of Leon’s head sweetly. Jesus, you don’t think you’ve ever used that word to describe him. Their lips brush and Kennedy is the one that pulls back, Jack’s head moves forward to chase them, settling with ghosting kisses along the soft skin of Leon’s neck, dotted in cocoa dust moles and a protruding Adam’s apple that gets the same delicate treatment. Along with a quick lick that draws a moan from the base of Leon’s throat.

You think you might be intruding on something more personal than sex. Holy fuck, you didn’t know your dad could do personal, you didn’t know he had the ability to love so ardently. To love at all. What a dick. You don’t know whether to look away or not.

Like, Leon is—He’s cute. You like when his feathery lashes dust his cheeks each time he closes his eyes, you like how his body, soft with baby fat, gives away to the roughness of your father’s touch. The flesh of his hips divots when Jack grips them. Your father presses his back to the cool shower wall, the buttery flesh of Leon’s ass moulds to the shape of his fingers when he tugs him close to his broad chest— Cute, he has back dimples. Jack slots his thumbs in them, and then he makes the mistake of lifting his eyes from Leon’s angel face.

The running water is not enough to stop him from spotting you, head poked into the shower room as you gape. For your sake, you dip out the door to make your exit and head back to the car, not sure on whether you should be traumatised or enlightened by the possibly harrowing image that’s burned into your retinas like the worst form of LASIK.

The ride home is silent. Dad is silent most of the time, he talks but not to you. There’s one thing to talk about, but you doubt either of you want to touch on that.

Jack lets you in first. The door clicks shut behind him and you’re both alone. He’s always alone with you. He’s never missed his wife until this very moment. Not out of love for her, but out of pure convenience. She would break up the silence, she would remind him that he is in fact attracted to women and what you saw back there was nothing. Hell, he could give you another sibling if you asked—He could do that.

In one try, like a real man.

He could get it up, he can get it up, he only gets it up for women. Kennedy is the closest thing to a girl, alright? That’s all there is. Wait till you find out about what they do in prison. Every guy at camp has had a turn with Kennedy—That’s just how it works. It’s not about being gay, it’s not— It’s just tradition, isn’t it? Picking on pretty boys like that, it’s the only way to get rid of all that pent up testosterone or whatever it is that swelters within Jack.

When you turn on your heels to leave for your bedroom, Jack calls your name. You freeze so fast it’s almost comical. Like you’re playing musical chairs.

“Yes, dad?” Your gaze is stuck to your white socks, the print of the floorboards is mighty interesting.

His brow dips and his scowl morphs into a pained smile that brings you more fear than comfort, his hand is heavy on your shoulder and Jack thinks this expression suits you well.

“You think you're smart?” Barging in like that, making assumptions that only women would make—You don’t get it. You’ll never get it.

“No, sir.” The chill that runs down your spine straightens it.

“On your knees, girl.” The way you’re looking at him—He hates it. You think you got him all figured out, putting him together like a puzzle, but you’re missing one piece—He’s not gay.

“No,” you say while doing as he says.

(Kennedy does that, cries out No! as the plush of his ass meets Jack’s thighs, as he fucks himself like a faggot on a dick that belongs to a man who once had a wife, a man with a daughter.)

“Dad, no—Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t even see anything.” You hang your head, pleading with the ground as Jack fishes his soft cock from his cargos, refusing to meet the tip with your eyes.

Your apology is lost to the softness of his dick, hanging huge and limp against his thigh like a deflated balloon. Fuck—No, no, it’s not because Jack is gay, it’s the daughter thing. You’re his daughter, and to get hard at the sight of your daughter would only ever elicit a prison sentence.

“Daddy,” you try again, cradling what you have with him close to your chest, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—Please, daddy, I don’t—Dad.” You fail to plead your case, you fail to garner any interest from his cock. “If it’s about—I don’t like him, I don’t like Leon, dad, you can have him, he’s all yours I swear—Just don’t do this to me, daddy, please.”

Jack’s cock twitches at the mere mention of his name.

“What did I tell you ‘bout running that stupid mouth of yours, girl? Where are your fuckin’ manners?” He rubs the ruddy tip along the crease of your jutting lips, the bottom one trembles. “Thought I taught you well.”

“No… No, don’t do that, dad—God, no.” Your complaints are snuffed out by the fat dick that stuffs itself down your throat, half-hard and thick enough to be a choking hazard.

(It poses a threat to you, but not to Kennedy. Man can that kid suck cock, with a face like that he’s lucky he’s not begging for his life.)

You gag and Jack pinches your nose. If he had a son, he would’ve taught him to play ball. But he’s stuck with a daughter, and the most you can do is dig your nails into his thighs, mucusy spit hanging from your chin in stringy strands.

“You’re made for this,” Jack tells you, and he’s right. Biologically, those lips of yours have evolved to maximum pout to suck cock. They bear resemblance to Leon’s—The vein on the underside of his dick throbs. Jack’s jaw is offset as his teeth grind together, splintering into thin shards of bone. Not the fucking time to be thinking of the rookie and his floppy hair, softer than cotton beneath Jack’s fingers, the rookie who is shaven clean save the shadow that lines his lips, the rookie that sports hardened lines on his otherwise plush abdomen, pink skin leading to an even pinker dick—Holy shit, what’s wrong with him?

At this pace, Jack’s going to contact a fucking therapist—Have it out with his bitch wife. That’s exactly what it is. Sexual frustration he's not been able to take out on your mother.

His cock slips from your mouth, it rests heavy on your face, casts a shadow as you cower at the sheer size. “Dad…” You cough wetly, hacking up bile that you push back down with a pained gulp. “Daddy… Don’t do it to me, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to look, dad, I’m not—I’m not mad at you.”

He scoffs, lifting you by the Peter Pan collar of your floral blouse—You look like a fucking Mormon. That pisses him off. Jack’s not a Mormon or a faggot, there are so many accusations in the air and it all rises to crescendo. You’re bent over the dining table, the fullness of your skirt is hoisted up to ruche around your waist in makeshift pleats and your white cotton panties are dangling around your ankles.

The lips of your puffy cunt cushion his dick and Jack starts to feel a little queasy. Not because—Not ‘cause of the pussy. It’s not that. It’s the daughter thing. Seriously—There’s no time to waste, Jack forces himself into your pussy before his dick folds in on itself. As he pistons himself in and out of your only partially wet cunt, it feels like nothing. Jack is numb.

Feels nothing, hears nothing—Sees nothing but him. The anger inside of him rises like a devastating wave, ready to engulf every skyscraper in its path. You end up being on the receiving end as you have been for as long as you’ve been alive—His very own punching bag. What else are kids for, huh?

Your stubborn pussy pushes him out, you dig your nails into the glazed wood of the table, clawing like they might find purchase in the grooves. Dad, dad, daddy, dad—It doesn’t work on him, you do nothing for him. When you cry, he doesn’t feel sad, and when your cunt clamps down on him, it brings him no pleasure.

A hand comes to rest on your back, forcing you into a sharp arch as Jack’s hips smack into yours at a bruising pace. Somewhere along the line, a very thin line that Jack snorts, it blurs—Your salty tears become the tang of Leon’s sweat, your hips become buttercream smooth in his grip, and your pussy—Your hole milks Jack for all he’s worth. The shroud has lifted from his shoulders and Jack feels weightless.

You lift your head, blood leaking from your nose, it congeals in fat lumps on your skin. “Daddy…” You sniffle, having had your head held down, grinding your bloody nose to a pulp against the smooth of the dinner table.

“Clean yourself up, girl.” Jack rolls his shoulders back, fists tightly balled by his side as he has proved nothing. Nothing at all. He’ll have to try again. No father of yours is a faggot. Can’t do that to his little girl.

(Excuse after fucking excuse.)

#jack krauser x reader #jack krauser smut #krauser smut #resident evil angst #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #jack krauser x you #krauser x reader #dead dove do not eat

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

Text

Madripoor High (Part 1)

A/N: ok so hum... First part of something new... I have no idea for a title so please throw some ideas in the comments... Yes i have added a little hint of marvel but it is not in the marvel universe! I just love Madripoor. I kinda have the tittle 'Madripoor High' in mind but I'm not sure... Don't even know if I'll keep this going just... Let me know in the comments. Also edited this on my phone... Kinda sucky, I'll put it back correctly if I do keep it going.

Warnings: sexual talk, weapons etc.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cars passing by and people walking to their destinations. The busy city boomed around you, muffled by the headphones on your head. Your music blocked the chaos of London. You enjoyed London. You found it beautiful. Amongst all the countries you've been to… and that list was quite long, you enjoyed the weather. Exactly. The gloomy, rainy weather. The black umbrella shielding you from the crystal droplets as you walked to a small cafe. You were greeted as you entered, dropping your shield at the entrance before taking place at a table in a corner far from others.

Your coat was removed, your backpack opened to free your laptop. The nice waitress walked to you after several minutes, asking for your order.

"I'd like a hazelnut cappuccino and… the crumble please" you answered with a smile.

As she walked away you looked around, the almost empty cafe was quiet, the few people chatting or working. You smirked, turning to your laptop you went to check for your payment. You smiled as you watched the enormous figure in your credit account. Yes. Credit. Because in the underground, money is important, but credits… Those are so much more valuable. The Madripoor currency.

Sighing, you let yourself lean back on the sofa chair, crossing your arms. You were proud. After everything you've gone through, you have managed to become one of the most prized citizens of Madripoor. The hard work you've put in has paid off, the contracts have piled up, the price tag always climbing up. Your speciality? Tracking. To get into details, it was hacking. Now you mostly used it to track down targets for big mean people who always have something against another big mean one. You were good. You were the fucking best. So yes. You were proud, even if you had no one to be proud of you.

Cup placed in front of you, you were taken out of your daydream. You smiled up, thanking the waitress, closing your laptop and pushing it to the side to bring your little treats closer to you. Contract over, now you were free until you accepted the next one. It would fall quite fast, yes, but you thought you might get some rest. Go back to Madripoor, to Hightown, and rest.

You took a bite of the crumble, feeling the sweetness of it making you relax. You thought you might go shopping once you'd got back. Maybe you'd stay in and play, watch some movies. Maybe you'd go to Downtown…

A soft buzz captured your attention. You grabbed your phone, looking at the screen. Someone was calling. No one called. Very few… barely anyone had this number. It was used for emergencies only and it had been a year and half since it rang. You frowned. It foreshadowed something entirely different than a break. You sighed. Curiosity eating at you. Before it was too late you answered.

"Hello?"

"Tracker."

You frowned. A woman's voice. A woman who knew your screen name. Only people from Madripoor knew it. Or people extremely close to Madripoor.

"Be quick." You said.

"You were never patient muñeca."

Muñeca. Doll. In Spanish. You sighed, closing your eyes.

"Valeria, you fucking bitch, I thought you were in jail."

"I was. I got out. Then that cabron de Alejandro trapped me."

You smirked. Alejandro. You haven't met the man, but by the amount of times she had complained about him, it's like you knew him already. A little voice was heard behind her, notifying you that she wasn't alone in that call.

"Where are you calling me from?"

"A military base. I need your help."

"No."

"You didn't listen."

"Go on I'm listening."

"We need help to find-"

"No."

She sighed. Helping her? It was already risky. You could. You could get her out and free her but she'd get herself into trouble again. Helping the military? You? Tangled in the deepest roots of criminality? It was the stupidest thing to ask of you.

"Come on. You love a challenge. And I have one just for you."

"It doesn't matter if I love a challenge. You're on high speaker aren't you?"

"Well-"

"Of course you are. They wouldn't let you call anyone without supervision. They know who I am? They know what I do?"

"They do." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"So what's going to happen? I help and then what? They got pretty little pink handcuffs for me?"

"Well you can ask the skull face to put them on. Or the ADHD Scot." She answered even more amusedly.

"Valeria… what?" You asked confused.

"Come on. It'll be very interesting. I know you're curious. And this… is like tracking a sin cara."

"A no face?"

Damn. She might succeed to make you interested. But she might be bluffing as well.

"Yes. We need to find Echo."

"Echo? The scientist working for various cartel's and Mafia bosses? The man that no one has ever met or even seen?" You asked, irony dripping from your tongue.

"Are you skeptical?"

"Echo doesn't exist. It's a stupid invention from some idiots to sell products at a higher price. You're wasting my time. Goodbye and good luck Valeria" You rolled your eyes.

"I have proof."

You froze. Proof? Now curiosity prickled your skin. What kind of proof? How did they get it?

"Hello?"

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

She chuckled on the other side.

"We've heard that your work is based on contracts. We'd like to offer you a contract." A voice rang.

The raspy voice was soft but commanding. A man, probably in his 40's. He sounded calm, determined.

"And who might you be?" You asked, taking a sip of your cappuccino who was growing cold.

"I'm Captain John Price."

A captain. Fair enough.

"What kind of contract?"

"You help us, we find Echo, we neutralize him and get Intel. You get immunity on this mission and after your part is done, you have 24 hours to vanish."

You thought about the question. Finding Echo. Might be the golden contract for you. Not that you needed it. But this… this was a challenge. Not the boring easy tracks that you had to do. You knew how even the high table of Madripoor was starting to get annoyed about this intriguing character. Countering rules in Hightown and Downtown. This might be an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. You looked around you, at the calm cafe. Fuck… you might not get that break after all. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to accept a deal you might regret.

"48 hours. Full immunity from the moment I step into your base until the end of the contract. I do things my way. You get your guy, your Intel. That's it. I'm not getting in the middle of the cartel's and other big brainless gorillas." You stated.

"Fine." You heard after a few pending seconds.

"Alright. I'll think about it." You finished.

"Didn't you just agree?" Another voice rang.

This time it was more… alive. The Scottish accent meant it was one of the men Valeria had mentioned.

"I'll agree when you'll receive the contract. I have to check something before I agree. I'll contact you and travel to you. Don't worry, you'll get an answer in the next few hours." You explained, opening your laptop.

"Should we send you a location? An email?" Another voice again. British accent but cute voice.

"No. I know where you are. I know how to contact you. I'll do so when the time's come."

"How?" The Scottish voice echoed in your ear.

"Oh… she'll have no problem with it." Valeria answered.

"See you soon." You concluded, hanging up.

Entering the base was easy. The new recruits keeping the gates were easily distracted. You infiltrated the base, making sure to deviate the cameras and stealing a 'visitor' badge.

You walked around, white wool shirt, black shorts with tights. Thigh high socks over your tights and comfy running shoes. Your black backpack and phone in hand. Sometimes, the best way to hide is to get attention… especially from men. You'd feel the looks, the way they were directed to your thick thighs, or neck, in plain view as you had pulled your hair back.

You were chubby, not exactly thin, tummy showing and chubby cheeks. At least, that was what was usually romanticized, the thighs, ass and boobs being overly sexualized. You wanted to roll your eyes. But eventually sometimes, men or women easily fall for it.

You took your time to walk around, discovering the grounds, the badge often being watched by what seemed to be higher ups. You'd fain innocence and bat your lashes when getting caught in places you shouldn't be, before letting them turn their backs and walking straight to where you wanted to. You weren't exactly wanting to be hidden right now. You were good at it. Hiding. But right now you wanted to explore.

The contract had been sent, signed and sent. You had gotten a chance to engage with the high table who agreed to such a contract. You didn't really need their approval. But you didn't want your place in Madripoor to be compromised by working with 'the good guys'. Not only did the high table saw no problem in it but they greatly appreciated you going after Echo. You were right, the character was definitely getting on their nerves, the echoes of him creating some ruckus in downtown.

You walked around a huge warehouse, military gear sprawled around. Most were used for training. You heard some noise not too far, deciding to hide behind big wooden shipping boxes. Voices echoed through the big place. You tried not to look too much. If you can see them, they can see you. You'd rather use your other senses to localize them. You only took one glance at two men standing back to you near a table full of items. One was overly talking while the other one rummaged through what seemed to be his gear bag. The man talking had a mohawk. It made you smile. The other one… was obviously wearing something over his head, but with their backs turned to you, you couldn't make out any more details.

The light reflected into the shinny blade of a combat knife. You blinked, almost hypnotized by it. You wanted it. The two men walked away, still babbling. You waited a few minutes before stepping out of your hiding place, going straight for the bag. You opened it, looking through the different things, looking for the pretty black mat combat knife. You almost jumped in place when you found it, taking the thingy with you before skipping back to your little exploration. This time, in a much more concealed way.

You watched, you spied. You wanted to understand how the base worked before letting yourself meet your contractors. Above the training ground, higher up in some kind of level that was used to put away all the training mats and other training things. It was the perfect spot to look over the training grounds, inside of the warehouse. You watched the men fight each other. It was almost entertaining. Your eyes caught the mohawk boy again, teasing another man. The boy with a cap seemed to joyfully indulge in whatever he was saying.

They looked next to them, a big figure stepping into view. You frowned. The man's face was veiled with a mask, a skull… it wasn't printed. Was it a real skull? You put two and two together, now realizing this was the owner of the combat knife. You chuckled to yourself. As he stopped into the training ring, young recruits palling, your interest peaked.

Thirsty minutes passed by in a flash. You watched in amusement and almost in awe how the mountain of a man threw around the soldiers. He was strong. Fast. You could hear him scold every wrong move of the poor soldiers who faced him. He seemed to look around swiftly every time he had a break.

You stretched, feeling your limbs getting sore from sitting here watching the show. You blinked, watching down again, telling yourself that you should get going.

Eyes. Dark eyes. Looking straight at you. Your breath caught in your throat, a cold wave running through you. His gaze was cold looking up through the mask. You immediately rushed back behind something to hide. How? How?! You wore nothing shiny. You made sure that nothing could reflect light. You were hiding perfectly. How?!

You wanted to take another glance but it was too dangerous. You decided to get moving, your position now compromised. You hopped around to reach ground level. You skipped your way into an empty part of the warehouse. You remained as silent as possible, making sure that even your steps were inaudible. After twenty long minutes you allowed yourself to breathe. Maybe he hadn't seen you in the darkness and you were fine. It had been three hours that you were on base, and you were getting slightly hungry. Perhaps you'd get a snack before finally meeting the contractors.

You looked around, trying to figure which way out could lead you to a building where there was food. The empty warehouse only seemed to echo the voices of soldiers outside, barely audible and muffled. You grabbed your phone, walking towards a back door. Maybe you'd get off base to eat and then come back. You were craving pizza, perhaps-

You slammed against a wall. Not exactly a wall. A wall of a man. You looked up. Eyes falling into a skull mask. Shit. Something told you. That playing innocent. Batting your lashes, won't help with this one. You took a step back, his brows furrowing. You both froze for a split second, tension giving you goosebumps before you reacted the only way your brain could at the moment. You ran.

Throughout the warehouse, jumping over gear, boxes and other stuff that you didn't mind to look at. Why were you running? You were supposed to have immunity. But he didn't know who you were. Not yet. The sound of his heavy boots was the only thing you could hear. Shit the man was swift. He was fast and nimble. You parkoured your way to the back door, almost reaching it until you were tackled against a wall. The shock made you wince, cursing out. You were stuck. Stuck in between a wall, and a strong body. Unfortunately you had both run to a dark corner of the warehouse. You could barely see his eyes in the darkness. You were panting.

He shared your gaze. Eyes never leaving yours. The darkness of them made you shiver. It was odd. That tingly feeling all over you. You barely realized how your wrists were pinned above your head, in his large hand. Didn't even notice his other hand… around your throat. He wasn't applying pressure. He was securing you in place, warning you. You were trapped. You have been trapped very often at the beginning of your… career. However, it had never made you feel like this. Small. Hunted. Like a prey under the claws of a predator. There was no ego, no dumb boy trying to prove something. He had chased you down on instinct, caught you in a primal way. Honestly. It was hot. Thrilling.

"Who are you?" His deep voice said.

Shit… even his voice was hot. Putting your new kink aside, you frowned, gaining back some composure.

"Santa Claus." You let out ironically.

The hand around your throat squeezed menacingly. You gasped. He remained silent awaiting your new answer.

"I.. I'm a visitor." You tried, maybe the innocent act would work.

He pulled on your wrists, having you on your toes now. A last warning.

"T..tracker…" you mumbled.

He seemed in thought for a few seconds before releasing the pressure on your neck and wrists, but keeping them in his hold.

"How did you get in?" He questioned.

Ah yes… the usual interrogation.

"The young boys at the entrance are easily distracted…" you mumbled again.

You weren't pissed. You weren't exactly pouting… maybe a bit. You weren't expecting to be caught, or to be put in your place. You weren't expecting to be under someone's hold like this. You looked away.

"You armed?" He asked.

"I have my phone. It's the only weapon I need." You said, keeping the combat knife a little secret. Mostly because you wanted to keep it and he won't let you. He straightened himself, towering over you.

"I'm going to let you go. You better behave." He warned.

God.. you wanted to brat. You wanted to anger him and test him. You rolled your eyes at him, as the hand holding your wrists released. However the other remained on your throat. You frowned looking up at him, as your hands wrapped around his wrist. He stepped closer to you, eyes never leaving yours. Now what was he doing? He said he was letting you go…

Eyes widening, you felt the other hand roam your waist. You tried to push him away but he squeezed at your throat keeping you in place, your hands flying to his chest to fist in shirt. The hand traveled to your sides, down your back, then back to your side to finally reach your thighs.

"S..stop!" You let out, blushing.

"Breathe… I'm checking for weapons." He said in a chuckle.

He frowned, his hand meeting the handle of… shit. The combat knife was tucked into the back of your shorts, hidden by your shirt. You closed your eyes as he pulled it out.

"No weapons huh? You're already-" he stopped looking at the handle. "That's my fucking knife. You stole it?"

"I borrowed it. Sharing is caring right? We're on the same team…" you answered with a smile.

He put away his knife before spinning you around, bringing your back to his chest. How the hell did he move so fast?! How did he manage to pin your wrists behind you… and HANDCUFF YOU?

"Hey! Where's my immunity?" You complained.

"I'm not arresting you."

"You're handcuffing me to satisfy a kink?" You teased him in a bitter tone.

"I'm keeping you from stealing again. And I'm taking you to Price."

"Who?"

No answer, he simply pulled you forward, holding your wrists behind your back. Well. Wasn't this the perfect start to a contract?

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon ghost riley smut #captain price #simon riley #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader #ghost smut

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