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bejeweledblondie · 7 months

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so excited about you having your requests open. I love your page!!

can I please request: Simon Ghost Riley x wife!reader?

Ghost and the rest of tf 141 are on a mission and end up getting detoured by who ever they are taking out (Russians, Hassan, etc). They need a safe house and quick! Well it just so happens simons place is right near by and simon takes them. the reader is home alone and just got out of the shower, she heard a bunch of men downstairs and gets freaked. In just her bathrobe, reader takes one of their safety guns and goes to defend herself against the “intruders” but really it’s just simon and gang

(sorry if this is long I got excited)

please and thanks

Hello! I’m so happy you’re enjoying my blog! I do apologize for the delay I was hospitalized for a lung infection (shit sucks dude I felt like a Victorian child dying of tuberculosis) but I’m all good now! So enjoy!

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Summary: After their mission becomes compromised Task Force 141 has to take up shelter in a safe house or the Riley Family home much to the surprise of Mrs. Simon Riley

Warnings: innuendos

“Come on I know a place.” Ghost grunted through his skull faced mask. The Lieutenant begrudgingly huffed & puffed leading the rest of his teammates through the forest that lead to the cottage where his family resided. After their location had been compromised Laswell ordered them to find a home in order to stay in where they’d go undetected. With them being only ten miles away from the cottage he called home with his wife, he knew it was the only option. Finally, after miles of hearing Gaz & Johnny complain about their feet aching they reached the wisteria ridden cottage.

He started to reach into his pocket & pulled out the key to his front door.

“Take your shoes off,” Ghost demanded. “We don’t want to track mud.” Photos of a very beautiful young woman in a wedding dress graced the walls of hallway leading into the living room. Simon could hear the water running in the upstairs bathroom indicating to him his beloved darling wife was showering.

“Simon, how do you know about this place?” Soap asked after he kicked his boots off. “I’m assuming you know the beautiful lassie in the photos.” Price chuckled to himself, knew about you. Simon had come to him to ask for advice on a lot of different things in regards to a marriage. His most recent was about children. It was just four months ago you had found out you were with child.

“Something like that.” Simon replied, & removed his mask. Gaz & Soap gave each other a glance knowing he must’ve felt very comfortable with his environment. A black & white cat rounded the corner out of the kitchen. He made a beeline for Simon & started to rub up against Simon’s legs. Bending down Simon grabbed the feline & started to pet him.

You had decided to run a shower, needing to wash away the grime of the day. Your current tired pregnant state made you incredibly drowsy. Resting your head against the cold tile you could’ve sworn you heard the door open. Chalking it up to pure exhaustion you ignored it. Then the all familiar sound of boots coming off by the front door made your head snap. You turned off the water, & dried yourself off. Wrapping yourself in your bathrobe & throwing on a pair of panties you grabbed the shot gun that laid next to the bed. If there was one thing Simon taught you was to defend yourself.

Slowly you started to make your way down the staircase shotgun pointed outwards. Once at the bottom you turned the corner into the hallway. Seeing the all familiar broad shoulders of your husband made you lower your shotgun.

“Si?” You asked clearly confused now cradling the shotgun in your arm. He turned around holding, Phantom your beloved tuxedo cat. “I thought you were supposed to be home in a few days.” You stated clearly confused.

“I’m sorry love, we needed somewhere to stay for a few days.” He replied. “Just until the heat dies down.” He gave you a kiss, much to the surprise of his teammates. “How the little one?” He asked placing one of his large hands on your lower abdomen.

“The usual,” You replied. “But overall we’re just fine.” Soap & Gaz stood there with their mouths wide open in shock.

“You have a kid?!” Soap asked.

“Back it up when did you get married?” Gaz asked. Price just stood there pinching the bridge of his nose at his teammates ruining the lovers moment. Simon holding his wife tightly now turned to face them.

“I got married three years ago, & we’re expecting our first child in five months.” Simon replied. “This is Mrs. Simon Riley, Y/N.”

“It’s so lovely to meet all of you.” You replied beaming. “Hi, John it’s nice to see you again.” You said waving at Price. Both Soap & Gaz looked at him shocked.

“What?!” John asked. “It wasn’t my responsibility to tell you.” Noticing your lack of clothing you excused yourself to change, & brought down old pajamas of Simon’s for the boys.

“The shower is open, & let me bake some cookies for you boys. You must be hungry.” You said. Simon took his usual spot on the couch & turned on Netflix. You loved taking care of Simon, he was the love of your life. The two of you depended on each other for everything. His job was a big stressor in his life & you wanted to make his home life as relaxing as you possibly could.

Soap, & Gaz were in seventh heaven in a world of hardened military men, the tender touch of a woman was exactly what they needed. Someone to just take care of them for a little bit to let them escape from the reality of their lives. Once the cookies were done you brought some plates out for them & then took your place right next to Simon on the couch. He pulled you in tightly, your head resting on his chest & his hand resting on your lower abdomen caressing the small bump. After a plate of cookies you both fell asleep on the couch. John himself was already knocked out in the little recliner that sat next to the couch his bucket hat covering his face. Gaz nudged Soap to look at their sleeping Lieutenant & his darling wife. It was so foreign to them to see him in such a soft state. They had seen him snap men’s necks the way you’d snap a Kit-Kat but here he was even in sleep being so gentle. Soon afterwards the two men also let sleep take over, letting the uncertainty of the situation become a problem for tomorrow.

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drop-cherries · 1 month

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Hi! I'd love a touchy bestfriend! James Potter, where girl reader is cuddling with him on his bed, no bra, wearing his shirt and biker shorts, and then the other Marauders walk in like "wtf?" I know, too specific, sorry. Hope you can do it!

HIII BABES!! Finally back to writing (maybe) hope you enjoy lovess. 🫶🏻 I made this platonic hope that's okay!! If it's not feel free to request again!! Requests are open!! Also omg im so bad at lengething things pls so it's so short im so sorry 🙏🏻 XOXO birdy 💋

Bestfriend!James x Platonic!Reader

Cw: none as usual, no use of y/n, gn!reader, fluff

Despite it beginning to warm up and spring spring blooming the gryffindor tower was quite chilly for the sunny afternoon.

You lay in bed wrapped in James arms, he is basically a space heater so you're warmer than you have been in ages. You're wearing a pair of shorts and his shirt.

Some might think this relationship is oddly romantic—the rest of the marauders in particular—but to you and James this is a regular occurrence.

Having been friends since toddlers your relationship is a very close platonic one. Your mother's being best friends you both often shared a crib during nap time, and spent almost all of your childhood together. Playing in mud, and making a ruckess all over each other's houses. Your parents both sighing when the enevitable time comes when you're tracking mud from the back yard. But cooing when later they would find you both cuddled up in bed.

When you both were sorted into Gryffindor you couldn't be more ecstatic, spending all of your time together. Being bonded at the hip.

James always has a hand on you, specially when you developed some anxiety throughout your years his hand was something that would always ground you in a time of panic. Whether it was rested on your knee or the small of your back, you were always reminded where you were and who you were with.

The door burst open and Sirius came racing in, definitely in a hurry. But stopping dead in his tracks when he notices the position you and James are in.

"Uh hi," Sirius says with an awkward wave. "Am I interrupting anything?" He continues cautiously.

You look up at James and you both start cackling at the look on Sirius' face. It was purely comedic.

"No you're not Pads, it's just cold," James says to him with a grin on his face. You giggle.

"Sure, let's go with that." Sirius says as he quickly grabs what he needs and sprinting out the door.

One last glance at James before you nuzzle back into his chest has you both giggling.

#birdywrites #marauders #james fleamont potter #james x reader #james x you #james potter x reader #james potter #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #prongsie #the marauders era #the marauders #harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black

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slut4thebroken · 5 months

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Opposites Attract

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd x reader

Summary | Jason in your hyperfeminine pink bedroom (and house lol)

Warnings | Reader isn’t infantalized she just likes feminine things lol, fluff, kissing, Jay being a big fat softie.

Words | 1.2 k

Notes | Honestly idk. I’m going through an aesthetic change rn and was struck with a vision one day lol. (Also this pic set is a direct result of there being literally no pictures or gifs of Jason 😭 I had to take matters into my own hands smh.)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

You always loved when Jason came over. You loved his company of course, but mostly you just loved seeing him in your house, especially your room.

There’s something almost comical about a six foot tall, burly, vigilante, who’s covered in scars and only wears dark clothes, standing amongst all of the baby pink and white, and the delicate silk and lace in your bedroom. He sticks out terribly, even in the rest of your house, and you can’t help but be amused by it everytime.

You were sitting in bed with a book tonight, wearing a white babydoll nightie and hugging your teddy bear to your chest. When you heard a noise from outside your bedroom, you stiffened, your heart beating faster and harder in your chest. You strained your ears to listen and for a few seconds it was completely silent until you heard quiet footsteps. Before you could react your door was opening and you almost breathed a sigh of relief when you saw who it was. All of the anxiety quickly melted into happiness.

“Jay!” You said excitedly, setting your book on the nightstand.

“Hi, princess.” His hair was still a little damp and he was in casual clothes so he must’ve done some vigilante stuff tonight— a while ago you scolded him for tracking mud on your rug and getting blood on your sheets, and ever since then, you’ve demanded that he comes here completely clean.

You set down the teddy bear and got up to greet him properly, with a hug and a kiss. His hands settled on your waist over the soft material of your dress and you placed your arms on his shoulders, standing up on your toes so he didn’t have to bend down so much. When he pulled back from the kiss, you whined quietly, making him chuckle.

“You scared me.” You frowned. Even thought you gave him a key, you wished he’d knock because of how naturally quiet he always is.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured, giving you another quick kiss, making you forget all about that. “Should I be jealous?” He asked and you furrowed your brows, not understanding because you were still dazed from both kisses. But he explained once he saw your expression. “That you’re cuddling with another man in your bed.” You couldn’t keep the little giggle in, especially when he started smiling.

“No.. It’s just Teddy.” You said through a quiet laugh. “Plus now that you’re here, I can cuddle with you instead.” You gave him a bright smile and he chuckled under his breath, bringing a hand up to brush your hair back, then cup your cheek.

“I’m not intruding?”

“Nope. I was just reading.”

“Good cause I thought we could bake some cookies and have a movie night.” You were nodding eagerly before he could even finish.

It was mostly him putting everything together and you following his every move with heart eyes. You wanted to help, but each time you tried, he sat you back down. He gave you the spoon for you to lick the extra batter from while he finished everything up. When the utensil was clean, he grabbed it and put it in the sink, then walked over to you and picked you up, taking you to the couch. You giggled as you clung to him— you didn’t think he’d drop you, it was just a habit that eased your nerves. When you were both on the couch with your legs over his, his hand on your thigh, and his arm around your shoulders, he leaned down and gave you a quick kiss.

“I missed you, baby.” He rasped, making your cheeks heat up.

“I saw you three days ago.” You chuckled breathlessly, even though you probably missed him more than he did.

“And that was three days too long. What have you been up to, pretty girl?” He leaned down even farther and pressed soft kisses to your neck. You let out a shaky breath and gripped his shirt.

“N-nothing… Just working on some hobbies.” You shrugged, getting a little sad. You wished you lived with him. You wished you could make dinner every night for both of you, clean up around the house, help him out of his clothes when he got home on days that he was particularly battered, give him a massage— and… anything else he might need— whenever he’s feeling stressed… You wanted it all. But you couldn’t have it, not yet at least.

“Yeah?” He lightly nipped at your neck, making you let out a startled whimper.

“Mhm.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter shut. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and slowly moved the fabric down to expose more skin. “Jay…” You said through a breath, trying not to get overwhelmed with the feeling of his lips on you.

“Hm?” He moved to your collarbone now, slowly kissing across it to the center of your chest.

“Need you.” You whined, starting to squirm. His hand started rubbing up and down your thigh, probably to soothe you, but it only got you more worked up. “Please?” You used the voice that always gets you what you want and he pulled back to look at you, letting out a heavy sigh as his lips curled into a small smile.

“I can’t say no to you, princess.” You all but beamed in response, excited to get what you wanted. His hand started sliding up your leg until he gripped your hip, under the nightie, making your breath hitch. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips and smiled when you started squirming again. He never broke the kiss as he lifted your body and set you in his lap, straddling his legs. Both of his hands squeezed your hips, teasing the waistband of your panties, and yours moved to his hair, tugging lightly.

Faintly, you heard a noise from the kitchen, but you couldn’t focus on it. When he pulled back, you whined and tried to kiss him again, but he placed a gentle hand on your neck as a warning.

“I have to get the cookies, baby.”

“Let them burn, I don't care.” You were still squirming, trying to get friction and pleasure that he wouldn’t allow.

“You say that now, but in half an hour you’ll be pouting about how you don’t have any cookies.” He chuckled, making you frown. He didn’t give you another chance to protest before he was lifting you off his lap and placing you back on the couch. You grabbed his hand when he started walking past you, looking up at him with pleading eyes and a pout.

“You’re my good girl… you can wait just a little longer, can’t you?” You frowned and averted your gaze for a moment, then nodded. He gave you a soft smile as he cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Thank you, baby.” He said proudly, making you blush, then continued on toward the kitchen. You turned around and leaned your chin on the back of the couch to watch him.

He looked so silly in your kitchen full of pink colors, towels with lace trim, and flower themed decor. But he looked even sillier wearing your pink oven mitts as he took the tray out of the oven. You bit back a smile as you watched him reach for a heart shaped spatula to put the cookies on a plate.

Despite the incongruity in the delicate setting, he managed to blend in seamlessly, almost making the contrast appear natural. It was giving you even more proof that he belonged here— belonged with you.

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @whydoyoucare866 @zurakoisanhornysimp @brooklynscherry-z @wartofart @deimks @n1ghtw1ngslvr @harleycao @baebeepeach @jayroytodd @zurakoisanhornysimp

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff

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slasher-dasher · 8 months

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RZ!Michael Myers Headcanons

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Sfw:

He pats your head when he wants to show that you did something he liked. He pats your head a lot.

He wants you to be somewhere? You're getting picked up and moved there, usually with very little warning.

Not the biggest fan of affection, but will never turn it away.

Often tracks mud or blood (or both) through the house. He doesn't take off his boots unless he has to.

Doesn't like to be alone unless he's making masks. If you close a door on him he'll make sad noises from the other side of it (mainly sighs and knocks).

If anyone looks at you the wrong way it will be the last thing they ever do. He plays dumb when you ask about it.

PLAY WITH HIS HAIR!! BRAID IT!! PUT IT IN A BUN!! He loves when you style his hair!!!

He likes to play with your hair too, but it's mostly just him running his fingers through it.

Has two different head tilts. If you ask him a question it tilts to the left, if you call him or he's idle it tilts to the right.

He nests! Comfy pillows and blankets are a new thing for him and he must have as many as possible.

If he catches you admiring his masks, he'll make you one in your favorite color(s) so you two can match.

Won't grab anything from the top shelves, but he will lift you up to grab what you need (unless it's heavy, he doesn't want you to drop it).

Not a fan of animals. He might tolerate a cat, but it wouldn't be allowed around his masks. Or in the bed. Maybe in the bed but it's on thin ice.

Nsfw:

He isn't quiet, but he isn't very loud either. A lot of grunts and sighs with some moans sprinkled in.

He's still not much of a talker, so short praises and some degrading muttered between his grunts are as much as you're gonna get. He will lean down to make sure you hear them though.

Pull his hair. He loves when you style it, but he loves when you mess it up more.

Good stamina, he can go for at least 3 rounds on a normal day, and even more if he was frustrated with a kill. Both of you get overstimulated often.

Speaking of being frustrated, if someone gets away you can tell immediately. He's rougher than usual (he's rough in general too), and will find a way to mark you with his knife if he can (his initials are in three different places on you already).

Do not tie him up in any way it reminds him of Smith's Grove.

Dig👏 your👏 fingers👏 into👏 his👏 back! He likes marking you so you may as well mark him up too!

He's a biter. Loves seeing the hickeys and bite-marks all over you.

He leaves bruises too, but usually doesn't mean to. But he doesn't mind the way they look on your hips and thighs. Expect kisses as aftercare when he does leave them.

Speaking of aftercare: you have to teach him what that is. After a bit, you both get a sense of what the other likes. (He likes getting you snacks the most. He wants to be useful :) )

#slashers #slasher #slasher community #slasher fucker #slasher x reader #slasher writer #michael myers halloween #rz michael myers #rz halloween #rz!michael myers #halloween (2007)#halloween (2009)#michael myers #dbd michael myers #michael audrey myers

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rosewaterandivy · 1 month

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the verbal thing comes and goes

Summary: eddie's first study(ing) date with an appearance from hawkins own lothario.

Warnings: eddie’s senior year 2.0, no Upside Down, scary smart debate team captain reader, NHS president and tutor nancy wheeler, ap music theory nerd and general nuisance robin buckley, pretentiousness alert - you have been warned!

W.C.: 1973

Eddie’s early, for once in his life.

He stands on the Wheeler’s doorstep worrying the strap of his backpack with his thumb. It’s Thursday, and he’s nearly done with his second read-through of Notes from the Underground. Turns out, reading Russian literature and annotating it at the same time is a bit of a commitment. So much so, that scribbling in his Hellfire notebook has fallen by the wayside.

He has highlighters now (yes, plural); who the fuck does he think he is?!

A guy who wants to stay in the same English class as you, that’s who.

Which brings us to his earlier than usual arrival for the study group.

He pushes the doorbell and hears the chimes clang from inside the house. There’s a bit of grime on his cuticles, he’d been fucking with an oil change for the van a few hours ago. Luckily, there’s not a smear of brackish fluid left on the pristine white button.

Mike loafs to the door and opens it with his usual fanfare, which is to say, none.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You mean at your house? Where your sister is? Who’s in my group for this English project?”

Each rhetorical question brings Eddie incrementally closer to Mike and inside the house, who backs away slowly, dead eyed stare and all.

“Psh, get outta my face twerp.” Eddie says, ruffling Mike’s stupidly long hair.

The door shuts behind him and Mike inclines his head toward the stairs, “Think they’re waiting on Buckley, you can head on up.”

Mr. Wheeler grunts in agreement from his lay-z-boy recliner in the living room.

Briefly, he wonders if he should take off his shoes. There’s a pile by the door and carpeted stairs, even Mike is wandering around in socks. And Eddie doesn’t want to be rude, or responsible for whatever mud he’s probably tracking in.

After toeing off his Reeboks, he takes the stairs two at a time and follows the sound of voices down the hall.

It’s an idyllic scene.

Namely, that Nancy has one of the most certifiably girly rooms Eddie has ever had the misfortune to see. But also, that you’re seemingly dressed in pajamas which consist of men’s plaid boxers, socks scrunched around your ankles, and an oversized t-shirt with a warped Tweety Bird face plastered on it. Your hair is up and off your shoulders, tied back with an obnoxiously bright scrunchie, and your face is freshly scrubbed.

It looks like a sleepover, if the legends are true, but neither you nor Nance are currently jumping on her bed and hitting each other in slow motion with pillows, a dusting of goose feathers filling the air.

“Hey Munson,” you greet, patting the spot next to you, “Take a load off.”

Well, shit, he’s certainly got a load alright.

He slings his bag to the floor and leans back against the foot of Nancy’s bed, taking a seat next to you.

“Didn’t realize this would be an all nighter Wheeler.”

Nancy glances up from her notes at your soft laugh. But before she can reply, there’s a clatter from below and Mike bellowing something about food.

“Oh, Rob must be here,” she says with a smile. “She said she was bringing pizzas or something.”

The three of you make your way down to the kitchen, where Robin has been cornered by Mrs. Wheeler. Her blue eyes are wide as she clutches the edge of the pizza boxes, nodding along politely with whatever Nancy’s mom is going on about.

“Oh Bucks,” Eddie says, swooping in to take a box before she can crush it, “For me? You shouldn’t have!”

Robin looks relieved, mouths thank you from where she’d been stopped by the counter. She’s just come from her job at Family Video and is still wearing the stupid vest to prove it. It’s got cheesy buttons like ask me about our newest releases! and Eddie has half a mind to do so.

That is before Steve Harrington comes swanning into the room with a few cans of soda. He stops short, surprised with Eddie’s presence at the Wheeler’s kitchen table. But then you trot in the room, lost in conversation with Nance and he sees Steve’s eyes blow wide as a blush warms his cheeks.

He’s looking at you because of course he is. The universe can’t seem to cut Eddie a break without throwing King Steve a bone(r).

It’d be comical if it wasn’t so typically teenage tragic.

For Eddie, that is.

“Oh, uh, h-hi,” Steve stammers in greeting, “I just grabbed whatever since I didn’t know what you’d like.”

It’s all Eddie can do not to roll his eyes.

Buckley had mentioned Steve not having as much swagger with the ladies as of late, but damn, Eddie didn’t think he’d have to witness it.

Still, it’s not as though he feels sorry for the guy.

Not when you give Steve a smile in thanks, but nudge Eddie’s shoulder with your hip.

“Outta my spot Munson.”

The contact of your thinly veiled hip against his jacket has got him spinning. If he wasn’t wearing the damned thing, he could’ve felt the warmth from your skin. He grunts and shoves over, sticking to monosyllables until he can get himself together.

Mrs. Wheeler eyes him briefly before stepping out of the room, a lingering glance that says watch yourself as she settles in the living room.

Seated around the table, various hands grab for slices of pizza that land in greasy splotches on paper plates. Robin is talking a mile a minute about someone who returned Fast Times stopped at a very pivotal point in the film.

Steve rolls his eyes and pops the tab of his soda. Leaving Eddie to beg Mike’s earlier question:

“What’re you doin’ here?”

This said between bites of pizza, stringy cheese decorating his lips. Spying his predicament, you toss a paper towel at his face and continue listening to Robin’s tales of Family Video.

“Could ask you the same,” Steve replies with a measured tone.

“English project.” Eddie pauses to take a swig of Mountain Dew, “Now you, Harrington.”

“Rob doesn’t drive, so I dropped her off.”

“Dropping off implies leaving, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He’s adopted a curt tone, as if he’s offended by Eddie’s rationale. So he decides to drop it for now.

And sure enough, Steve eventually does leave. Right after hauling in Robin’s overstuffed backpack and trumpet.

Eddie notices how Steve’s eyes linger on you, flitting to and fro, and tries to tamp down the roil of jealousy in his gut.

It’s only once the group is back upstairs and working on the project, the door minduflly cracked open at Mrs. Wheeler’s behest, that he feels himself relax. After all, he can’t dedicate too much of his time to feeling like a possessive meathead with Nancy delegating.

Currently, you’re all huddled over your novels and passing around copies of notes on each text. Nancy’s are neat and tidy, Robin’s are a downright mess, but yours are something else. Color-coded with a key in the upper right-hand corner of the page, not a smear of ink to be found. It’s like the Holy Grail of notes.

They also smell faintly of your perfume.

Eddie’s notes aren’t as batshit as Robin’s, but there are plenty of sketches to be found in the margins. He hopes they’re acceptable, he’s never really willingly taken notes over a book before. Much less, painstakingly copied three sets of said notes for distribution.

He’s more familiar with a different type of distribution.

Speaking of which:

“Shit, I gotta go.”

He hastily packs his bag while Nancy lists off his task for the project. You’ll see each other in class, obviously, but there won’t be another study session until next week. NHS is rolling out their individual tutorials, and she’s got stuff for the school paper. Debate team meets weekly for practice in addition to their class, you’ve got to start prep for research on a few topics. Robin has band shit and life shit, as she calls it, so everyone is pretty much swamped until then.

Even Eddie, with his tutoring from Nancy and Hellfire meetings and Corroded Coffin practices and shows. And, apparently, there’s another meeting with Mrs. Meloy next week to see how he’s “adjusting.”

He says his goodbyes quickly and dashes down the stairs, surprised to hear the sound of you behind him. He turns, tugging on his shoes, inquiring, “Nance forget to tell me something?”

You smile with a shake of your head, “Nah, just thought I’d see you off.”

“Ah, yeah. Prime time for creeps, good lookin’ out.”

He gets a laugh out of you, which lights something in his chest with a dull warm glow. Shouldering his backpack, he makes way for you to open the door and follows you onto the porch.

The last of the summer sun eeks across the sky leaving bands of creamsicle orange and pink behind. You glance up, exposing the delicate tendons of your neck, the elegant slope of it. And it’s all he can do not to press his lips to the sweat gathering in the hollow of your throat.

Eddie clears his throat instead and stands there awkwardly as you enjoy the summer evening. The air is humid, and a dampness permeates the otherwise pleasant moment. You sigh softly, having taken your fill of the sky for now, and turn your gaze to him.

He feels like an ant under a magnifying glass might, not used to the attention and fearful of what’s to come.

“I expected you would’ve called by now,” you say casually, with a fond pull of your lips, “But you’re just full of surprises Munson.”

He scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the pavement and shyly glances down. He notices the weight of his bag now, the sweat beginning to bead along his skin. It’s uncomfortable and his van is within sight, he’s so close and yet so far.

All because you’re staring at him, attempting to have a conversation with the guy who said he doesn’t read much and yet had some of the finest penmanship and annotations you’d ever seen littered all across your copy of Dune.

He’s surprising and you like surprises well enough, but Eddie is becoming more and more of a mystery to you which is somehow even more appealing.

Of course, he knows none of this.

All he knows is that a pretty girl in a Tweety Bird shirt and boxers is looking at him with a secret smile on her face, and he feels like he’s hurtling toward oblivion or humiliation.

“Maybe I lost the note?”

Lies. It’s squirreled away in his most prized possession, a battered copy of Tolkein’s Fellowship of the Ring.

“How tragic,” you tease, “If only we had been taught to memorize things like phone numbers and addresses.”

“Yeah, that would be something.”

You laugh, “Oh, wait. Lucky for you I have it right here.” You tap your temple with a manicured nail, and pull a face as if you’re about to snarl but your eyes are bright and teasing.

“Look,” Eddie says, a laugh falling from his lips, “Maybe I was giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“Oh really,” you drawl, arms snaking across your chest. “When a pretty, smart girl gives you her number and offers up her time and expertise, you, Eddie Munson, think twice?”

“Generally, from past experience, yes.”

You kiss your teeth and let out a soft tsk. “Well, don’t.”

“Think?”

The smile you give him could launch a thousand ships.

“About this? Not even once.”

And with that, you turn on your heel and walk back into the Wheeler’s house leaving him dazed and more than a little confused.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #fic: ibciyd #eddie munson fluff

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alespov · 9 months

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Leon kennedy dad hc’s

Tw: no actually trigger warnings, just fluff. Leon being a dad.

a/n hope you enjoy loves, feedback is appreciated 💕 discord server link ( last time I’ll talk about it, I swear)

[] funny enough he always knew that he would have a daughter, so he picked out the name Arabella, and he always promised himself that he would find her mom.

[] he’s such a girl dad. Would do anything for his daughter

[] he allows her to paint his nails. He attends every tea party as well.

“Daddy do you like you tea?” You could hear the both of the playing with her tea set.

“Of course peach.” This made you stop in your tracks, Arabella wasn’t tall enough to reach the sink. You walked into her room and leaned again the door frame.

“Hunny, where did you get the water from.” You asked her and you looked over at your husband and his face dropped.

“From the dog water bowl mommy.” She said excitedly. Leon never again trusted the water from her tea pot.

[] she comes before everything, his work, his friends everything. Besides he would rather stay home with her anyway.

[] he wanted to give her the childhood he didn’t have.

[] the both of you definitely have the white picket fence house. With the big White House and a Labrador dog. Leon didn’t see how the dog would project the both of you while he was gone, but if it made you happy. Then so be it.

[] the three of you have a tiny garden that consists of daisy’s, irises and many more.

[] she has a mini toy motorcycle, to match his

[] everyday at dinner she has to drink apple juice, because she can’t have the apple wine that he drinks. She loves to match with her daddy.

[] he bought her a mini leather jacket.she always would take his, so he found a mini version. Aunt Claire fell in love with it.

[] sometimes their outfits coordinate. Every night before bed, they picked out their outfits

[] since he played football, in high school. She wanted to play football so he signed her up for the practices.

[] he’s never told her what his job was like, she just knows that daddy does something dangerous

[] one day older kids were making fun of her pink dress, and she got shoved in the mud. Then they started laughing when she said her daddy would take care of it.

[] after school closed, Leon stormed there with her in tow. You hadn’t ever seen him that mad before. The principal was walking to his car and him and Leon shared a few words.

[] let’s just say an event like that never happened again.

#┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ allyse talks ┊ ˚➶ ｡˚#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon x you #id!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #dad leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon headcanons #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy resident evil #leon Kennedy fluff #leon Kennedy fanfic

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eileenslibrary · 3 months

Text

Man Of The Hour

A/N: Just needed some fluff today so I wrote this, hope you enjoy

Tiny Dragon! Zhongli x GN! Reader

Warnings: Only mentions of work stress and crying, Zhongli is a lil shit, fluff, me listening to Norah Jones too much.

Song: Man Of The Hour, by Norah Jones

GIF is not mine

“It’s him or me”

The two men stand in the doorway looking at you incredulously as the tiny dragon sits in your lap you look up at him “Neither I am happy now” you hum petting behind his ears as the dragon purrs like a cat.

That’s what he said

But I can’t choose between a vegan and a pothead

The two men scoff and leave your house the door slamming behind them the dragon curling his small tail around your wrist and letting out a big yawn.

So I choose you because you’re sweet

And you give me lots of lovin’ and you eat meat

“No more complicated meals for us huh?” you pick him up from under the shoulders and flop onto your back looking up at him, his little tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth you chuckle and pull him under your chin.

And that’s how you became

My only man of the hour

The tiny dragon wiggles in your arms as the sunlight peaks into the curtains before dancing over your head “It’s not breakfast yet” you grumble grabbing the tiny cat serpent and tucking him into your arms.

You never lie

And you don’t cheat

He stands on his hindquarters as he watches you cut up the salmon you chuckle at the cuteness throwing him a piece for him to catch and eat.

And you don't have any baggage tied to your forefeet

You boop his little nose when you return home immediately falling onto the bed to say hi to your little dragon your work attire ruffled from a long day. “So quiet in here?” you hum picking him up and placing him on his pillow his tail swatting in excitement, watching as you switch into his favorite hoodie immediately slipping into the big pocket his head coming out one side, his cute butt out the other.

Do I deserve, to be the one, who will feed you breakfast, lunch,

And dinner and take you to the park at dawn

He peaks out of the top of your shirt as you meet with your friends downtown his forked tongue peaking out taking in the new smells, you feel his tail wag as he smells all the delicious food. You chuckle as you approach Wanmin restaurant sitting with your friends as they coo at the tiny dragon poking his head from your shirt, you all order and feed some of your noodles to the little one until he slips into a food coma.

Will you really be

My only man of the hour

You feel the tiny dragon climb up your pants with his tiny claws as you wait for your coffee to be done as you read the paper, he finds your lap and curls still sleepy, you stroke one of his horns making him purr in content as he naps on your lap.

I know you'll never bring me flowers

Flowers they will only die

You once again find a shiny rock on your bed waiting for you on your bedside table, They weren’t flowers but it was just as meaningful, you stash it in one of the drawers with the other knick nacks he brought you.

And though you'll never take a shower together

You put him in the bath with you as you rinse the grime off his scales making him pout as the mud falls from him “No rolling in mud Rex! It tracks mud into the house” you scold washing under his belly.

I know you'll never make me cry

You sink in front of the door sobs wracking your body from the hard day at work, Rex’s little head pops up from one of your boots yawning as he climbs out of it and walks over to you rubbing against your leg and getting your attention, you look up and peak at him before scooping him up into your arms sobbing into the soft scruff of his neck.

You never argue

You swing him around at the soft jazz making you smile as he gives you an odd look, none of your significant others did this with you always breaking into an argument due to your “childish” nature. You kiss his snoot pulling him into your arms once again and cuddling him next to your heart.

You don't even talk

Even though he can’t talk he does make a bunch of ruckus as he ruffles in your sock drawer making you chase after him when he grabs one of your socks his tale wagging frantically as you try to corner him and grab the sock but he dashes between your feet. “Oh come here you little shit!” you huff chasing after him as he climbs up the towel holder, you finally grab him and gently yank the soaking sock from his mouth making sure not to hurt him.

And I like the way you let me lead you

When we go outside and walk

You bought a chicken harness so you could take him out on walks as you stroll down the harbor the gold collar that has REX in bold red lettering. He leads you down the harbor and sits on the dock you sit next to him and swing your legs over the edge your socks and shoes to the side as you dip your toes watching the fish swim by.

Will you really be

My only man of the hour?

He was glad you dumped those pea brains and lived this nice life with your cute dragon, maybe someday you’ll catch him in his human form and he’ll tell you his true feelings for you, maybe he’ll finally swing you around the living room, bring you flowers, and finally share a shower with you.

My only man of the hour.

#fluff #zhongli x you #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin liyue #genshin impact #norah jones

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apollodeath · 8 months

Note

just read that 'playing prey' fic u did with konig I LOVE IT!!!!!

i was wondering if you can do an angsty one where reader gets really hurt and keeps trying but when konig finds them he lets them win cause there hurt :) thxxx

I LOVE THIS IDEA! I hope I wrote something you asked for 🫶🏻 it’s kinda long my bad.

18+ MDNI

It had been a few weeks after the last time you two had played. König was finishing up dishes from lunch and you sat on the back porch on your phone just scrolling.

The weather was finally cooling off and the breeze was nice enough to wear your favorite hoodie it was König’s and since you were outside you had brought comfortable shoes out with you.

König grabbed the glass door sliding it to the side stepping out with you, he took a deep breath of the fresh air and began to stretch his arms then moving to his legs.

"Stiff?" You asked with a little laugh. König grinned and looked at you.

"Something like that" he teased making you tilt your head.

"What do you mean?" You place your phone on the table next to you giving him full attention. He shrugs and continues stretching his back then touching his toes.

You admired him slightly flexing with each stretch but a buzz from your phone made you look away.

König stepped closer to you and kissed your head and put his phone right next to yours.

His timer was counting down from 5 minutes. The simple ticking of seconds made you feel so slow to start, jumping up and running off the porch, across your backyard, straight back into the woods behind your house. Your mind raced and so did your heart.

'How did I forget I agreed to this!' You thought. Panting already from fear less from running. You actually started to build stamina from these little games and also your memory of trees and paths were in bedded in your mind.

König watched you get farther and farther as he continues his running stretches. He reached in his pocket pulling out his mask placing it over his head and breathed in the smell of the fabric; it stilled smelled of dirt despite you washing it for him. He believes it might be just his mind tricking him to smell missions and gun smoke. Especially cause you said it smelt brand new.

His phone went off. Timers up. He started a light jog across the backyard into the woods.

You were down a couple paths and saw a good place to rest for a second ‘5 minutes are up... I think' you thought.

'So if I go a little farther.. the turn is on the right.’ You thought more of your next move. You got up and looked around before running towards your next marker.

König followed your tracks expertly, basically tracking you like a dog. His eyes ran over the dirt/mud paths as he runs but stopping to look around once he hears things go bump in the woods.

Once you got to the little hill that König's never found you at; you squat behind multiple bushes they're big enough to cover you well. You take this moment to look down and realize you're wearing your comfy house shoes.

"Oh, great" you whisper to yourself dusting them off or trying to. You realised the cold air made your lungs burn more, right then you hear something and freeze, listening closer.

‘there's no way he's this close.’ You thought.

You slowly peak your head out looking at the path you came from, or, of what you can see of it. He's there... but he's looking around and he's kinds far off from where you're hiding. You think you can out run him. Maybe.

You slowly move past the bushes going the opposite way. You keep your eyes on him until you can't and you're slowly crouch walking farther keeping out of site. Or so you think.

When you get past a few trees you feel confident enough to stand up and start running. You start but look back once more, just to check. He's staring right at you. You freak and start to push yourself harder, running off the path. Hoping the trees will make great cover.

Once König's eyes land on you you stick out in the fall colored wood. He smirks under his hood. Watching you run faster makes him take a few steps before beginning to run himself. He feels like an animal as his body reacts to seeing you, it's like his mouth is watering and his cock is starting to ache for touch. There's only been one other time König has ever caught you so fast and had his way with you. That time comes into his rancid mind:

He caught you in the middle of a path and wrestled you to the ground it wasn't hard. Once he had you on the ground in the open, no trees, no brushes to hide his heinous act. He had you on your belly as he striped you and took you repeatedly, he secretly hoped you two were being watched. The rush of someone witnessing him devour you made him cum over and over again. After that you had scuffed knees and he apologized but you admitted to him it turned you on seeing them after he left on deployment.

You were running for awhile in the deep thick woods but the sun was already low and it was a bit hard to see you came up on a path and realized you were actually close to your home.

You saw a smaller fallen tree and decided to hop over it but in doing so the other side had fallen branches which made you trip and fall. You catch yourself with your hands but you feel shooting pain in your ankle and wrap your hand around it to try and calm the pain.

“Fuck” you whispered to yourself. Looking around and you saw nothing but woods and the path a little up ahead so you scooted to behind a bush and a tree hiding as best as you could.

König watched from a distance as you fell. He was going to cut you off on your path home but once he saw you fall he paused and squatted quickly to be out of sight when you looked around.

You take a few seconds to calm your breath and check your ankle, it’s bruised and a bit scuffed but not too bad. You think for a minute ‘is it dumb for me to continue playing?’ You looking around and think ‘I could just hide really well until sunset’

The woods were already getting darker by the moment so you knew sunset was close. You slowly get up using the tree as a crutch and limp a little to a short pine tree then laying under its thick, low hanging branches. You curl up putting your hood on and your hands in the pockets of your König’s hoodie.

König slows his heart rate and breathing watching you hide. He’s more worried that you may be very hurt. He slowly walks closer and takes a prone position on the ground near you; enough to see you but you won’t see him.

You finally see the sunset and you can’t help but smile at the fact you’ve won. You crawl out from your hiding and start limping to the path that leads to your house. Your ankle is actually feeling a bit better you think.

König slowly approaches you he knows you’ve won the game but he still has to scare you at least once more.

He runs up making noise and swooping you up holding you like a child. You scream and start laughing as soon as you know it’s him.

“I win! You can’t do that!” You laugh and hold on to him as he carries you home.

“I’m not going to fuck you, Maus. Not until I check out your limp” he states seriously but also he can’t help but smile from your infectious laugh.

“Oh I fell…” you say with point to your bruised ankle.

“Oh I know.” König nods.

“You know?”

This is my first ever request and I’m so happy about it! ALSO THANK YOU ALL FOR 1K on “Playing Prey”

#konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #konig smut #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig x you #könig x reader #könig modern warfare

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erwinsvow · 3 months

Text

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

summary: you've gotten used to stitching up rafe these days.

word count: 0.9k

now spinning: shades of cool by lana del rey

Rafe likes to keep his work and his home life separate.

In the past, when the two get all tangled up with each other, it gets messy, and so his new habit is to keep everything apart from each other. Talking business with his dad, figuring out what the hell is going on with this gold and the treasure and these stupid Pogues and his stupid sister, it was all interfering with his personal life. His life with you.

You’re hopelessly clueless. If he didn’t like you as much as he did, it would be annoying. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty on his arm, let him fuck out his anger on your pussy, and follow his rules. And you’re obedient too, you follow his rules and every word he says like a lost puppy, terrified of leaving its master’s good graces.

You don’t ask questions when he comes back to you, knuckles bloody and ribs sore. Instead you sit him down on your bed, running to fetch an ice pack and a damp towel, wiping until all the red leaves his skin while having him hold the cold compress down.

You complain about the mud he’s tracking in on your floor, and you shove his arm when he gets blood on the pale pink of your sheets, but you never ask questions. You never tell him to stop.

It’s an unspoken rule between the two of you. You’ve totally brainwashed yourself, you think in the back of your head, when he comes to you bleeding from a cut that’s too deep for just a tight bandage. You like to think that, because the alternative is that he’s brainwashed you, and you just can’t swallow that thought.

Maybe because you don’t really care if he has. You like being his, you’ve decided, just his and no one else’s.

Rafe groans from pain, feeling droplets of blood running down his arm. He wants to lay down, even though you told him not to. You’re out of the room right now, running to get the other first-aid kit in your house because you’ve burned through all the supplies in the first one, the one you kept under your bed for Rafe in these situations.

You come back with a bigger box and a glass decanter filled with an amber liquid.

“No,” he moans out, trying to get up but ultimately sitting back down. His head hurts like a bitch and the wound on his shoulder is bleeding too much, but if you’ve brought him whiskey—it has to be whiskey, even though you know he prefers scotch, your dad likes whiskey and he knows this because for your parents’ anniversary last month, he got your father a bottle of aged whiskey, to try and stay on his good side despite the fact he knows he never will—then it’s about to get bad.

“Rafe, Rafe-” you repeat, scrambling down to his side, setting the whiskey and a box with a blue lid onto your covers. “Please, you have to let me stitch it up, it’s too deep and since we can’t go to the hospital—”

He stops moving under your gentle touch eventually, unbuttoning his shirt and using your clean, white shirt as a makeshift tourniquet. He feels guilty when he sees his blood on it afterwards, discarded on your floor. His heart feels like it's on fire when he reflects on what you just said—not that he can’t go to the hospital, no, we can’t go, you and him, together.

You clean his wound, and make him drink the whiskey so it hurts less. It doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say, while he sucks in a tight breath every time the needle goes in. “There wasn’t any scotch in the house, I’m sorry-”

“‘S’fine, it’s fine,” he chokes out. He has to be quiet because your parents are asleep in the next room. “Whiskey’s good. You’re good.”

You beam under his praise, even in a situation like this. He grips your face with his bloody hand for a second.

“Thanks for doing this, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you repeat back at him, looking back down and continuing your work on his arm. He stares at the blood leftover on your cheek, his blood.

You stitch up his arm and then wrap it tightly. You clean off as much blood as you can, and then find him clean clothes to sleep in—his clothes. You have half his closet here, he notices, pulling out a baggy shirt for him and then for you. You both crawl into bed together. You’re exhausted, he can hear it in your breathing. You just hope you’re not getting too tired of him.

“Sorry, kid,” he says. You look up at him quickly, eyes watery, from your position against his chest. His good arm hangs around you, fingers brushing right above your elbow. He looks down to meet your eyes. “I got some blood on your sheets. Sorry.”

“Oh,” you breathe out. “It’s okay, I’ll just wash them.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you’re asleep before you know it.

#off to work for the next few hours... hope this gives everyone rainbows and sunshine and butterflies #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #obx

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iamjacksragingboner · 5 months

Text

Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap

Word Count: 1.6K

Alternate Endings Here

Warnings: The tiniest smidgen of angst but it ends nice so you better not complain, not super proofread

A/N: Yeah I dunno, came up with this last night and just crammed it out today in a sort of word diarrhea in which I blacked out and woke up naked and alone in the middle of the bush with this on my laptop screen. Make of that what you will

Contrary to his callsign, Soap is, and always has been, a gross little goober of a man

He’s been gross since you were kids, going digging for worms, collecting hermit crabs to take home from the beach in his pockets, rolling around in the dirt and coming home tracking mud on the carpet. Of course, it wasn’t all bad. He’d always offer to kiss your scrapes and bruises better, even if they were bloody or muddy. He’d always find pretty seashells to give you amidst his hunt for the largest hermit crab. He was gross within reason.

You had many a fond memory of going off to the creek at the back of your neighbouring houses with him. You'd climb up to what felt like perilous heights in your child minds, to sit on the highest point of the creek. From there, you would watch as Johnny dug for the perfect stones for you both to skim, watch him build dams and change the currents of the water. Watch as he would lunge at bugs, fish, tadpoles, lizards, and present them up to you from below, the squirming creatures clutched in his mud covered hands.

At the end of the day, just before your parents would call you back home for dinner, Johnny would climb up on the rock with you, just to sit and hold your hand. If he was feeling particularly bold, he would plant a kiss on your hand, and tell you he was going to marry you one day. You called him gross for that too, but latched onto the idea all the same.

Your early teen years, where puberty had begun for the both of you, was plagued with a myriad of varying smells and odours. Forget sweating like a pig, Johnny sweat like a boar; walking home from school with him after P.E. was a nightmare for your nasal cavities. You didn't mind though, he made good enough conversation that you ended up getting used to the stink.

For the amount of afternoons you spent in his room, you'd think you would eventually get used to the sight of his dirty clothes and mugs littering his floor and desk. You never did, always scolding him for not keeping his room clean knowing he had a lady coming over. He would always laugh, even as you threw his pillow at him, copping it square in the face.

So many nights were spent laying side by side in his bed, talking late into the night, curious hands too scared to do more than brush pinkies with the other laying inches away. You always felt as though you could feel him staring at you in the quieter moments of those nights, but you never caught him.

You spent your later teen years feeling bitterly towards him. You went from thinking you'd be best friends forever, to being an afterthought for Johnny. You did try, of course, to keep close to him.

In his late teen years, Johnny was gross in the sense that he’d go off to parties just to see how many people he could make out with. Would have sex with anyone who offered, just for the hell of it. Accompanying him to parties was a nightmare.

"You promise you won't abandon me this time?" You found yourself asking this more than once, each time slightly less optimistic than the last, but never losing your faith in him.

"Of course not, lass," he would always say. "Yer ma' girl! I'll stick right by yer side this time, lass. I promise."

What shallow promises they were. You were always demoted to the third wheel, the one who held the drinks while he went off to flirt with someone new he hadn't fucked yet. You found yourself leaving early and alone most nights, walking home and hugging your sides to keep yourself from falling apart, kicking stones imagining they were Johnny's face. Cursing yourself for thinking this time would be different, and that maybe he'd look at you for once. Going to bed cold and bitter, knowing just next door, Johnny would be waking up with someone else next to him in his bed. You just hoped he remembered to keep his room clean for them.

You both graduated, with Johnny leaving to join the military and you leaving to go to university. You kept in scarce contact over the years, occasionally calling to catch up, Johnny telling you where he was stationed, you telling him what you were working on at uni, apologising for missing birthdays, missing holidays, promises to call again soon, promising to catch up when he's home, all shallow. At least, that's what it felt like to you.

Until one night, when you were out at a bar with you friends, celebrating your recent graduation. You were all discussing with great vigour what you would all get up to with your newfound freedom from studies, when you felt the familiar feeling of eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. A little unsettled, you took a look around the bar, trying to see who could possibly be staring at you so intensely, but you couldn't quite catch their eye. You sipped at your drink, a frown furrowing your brows for a moment, before you brushed the feeling off altogether.

An hour passed and you'd forgotten the feeling in the haze of the alcohol. You were ordering yourself another drink, and as you reached into your wallet to grab out your card, another hand swooped in front of you to pay for your drink. You looked up, startled, before you met his gaze. Johnny. Staring down at you with a smile that could melt glaciers.

"Johnny, you didn't tell me you were in town," you murmured, eyes greedily taking in as much of him as you could in this moment of reunion. Scars on his chin covering the one he got from splitting his chin riding a bike for the first time. Stubble covering his jaw. The corniest mohawk that he had always talked about getting, sitting on top of his head. Your face flushed beet red when your eyes dragged over his built form; apparently that childhood crush you'd had on him all those years ago hadn't quite faded as much as you'd thought it had.

"You didn't tell me you'd graduated university, lass," he replied, the sound of his voice—finally in person again and not over the phone—sending shivers down your spine. "Had to find out myself from yer mum."

You hid your guilt behind the drink you tipped back into your mouth, averting your gaze as he watched you with dark eyes. "Thanks for the drink," you breathed, and he laughed.

"Don't even mention it, 's the least I can do. Why don't we go sit down somewhere 'n catch up, aye? Come on, lass."

You found yourself being guided over to a booth, Johnny's hand on the small of your back, sending ripples of warmth through you and into places the alcohol couldn't quite reach. You sat down first, with Johnny shuffling in close beside you, your shoulders brushing, electricity coursing through your veins.

As you sat and spoke, catching up on what you've missed in each other's lives, you found yourself noticing something. Johnny was using all the moves he used to use on people he fancied in high school, the ones he used to get them all flustered, to get in their pants.

You had to admit, you could see why so many people slept with him; he was charismatic as all hell, that boyish charm spawning those all too familiar butterflies in your gut, and he was quite literally always in contact with you. Whether it be the arm resting behind you on the seat of the booth, his knee gently nudging yours beneath the table, or a hand tucking a hair behind your ear, it seemed Johnny had turned the charm up to the max.

It was nice to be on the receiving end of it for once, but there was a certain bitterness that still lingered behind like a foul taste in the back of your throat. Was this just meaningless flirting to him, were you just another girl on his list to fuck and be done with? With all the alcohol in your system, you were well and truly past the point of caring, but you knew that if you woke up tomorrow morning in an empty bed you'd not only be cursing him, but yourself as well.

You let him lean in closer, tracing a finger down your cheek, and you let yourself be giddy, blushing like a schoolgirl when he winked at you. You let yourself swoon when he kissed you, cradling your face in his calloused palms. You let him take you back to his parent's place, nestled just next to your own home. You let him take you upstairs and into his room, holding your hand and shushing you when you both laughed a little too loud.

You let yourself feel like teens once more as you stumbled into that all too familiar room, hit with the smell of Johnny, the smell of home. You felt guilty, ashamed, as you let yourself savour the taste of him, the feeling of his naked body pressed against yours, his hands raking along your body as if you'd disappear if he let go. You let yourself fall asleep in his arms, smiling as he carded his fingers through your hair and pressed kisses to your scalp, whispering incoherent things into your skin.

You awoke the next morning, expecting to find Johnny's bed empty. But it wasn't. And neither was it the next morning, or the morning after that. In fact, the pair of you spent a lot of time waking up together.

This is where you find yourself now, lying in the early morning light in Johnny's bed, the man in question sprawled out next to you, snoring with his mouth wide open, drool leaking on his pillow.

"Gross," you murmur to yourself with a fond smile, tucking yourself into his side and closing your eyes once more.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap call of duty #soap cod #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #childhood best friend x reader

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

you ask for dbf!hotch thoughts? i will absolutely deliver ‼️

okay so imagine it’s like midnight and you’ve been locked out of your place (it’s not the end of the world, your family has the spare, but they’re likely already asleep)

the only thing you can think of - your last resort so to speak - is your dad’s best friend because god only knows agent hotchner keeps godawful hours, and he’s been enough of a constant in your life to know that at the very least he’d probably let you crash at his for the night.

so after a quick call and being greeted by a surprisingly raspy voice (that suggested you had in fact woken him up), he’s said to “stay put, honey. i’m on my way.”

this is just an excuse because i’d love to see domestic fluff 😩💕

having to borrow a pair of clothes, showering at his place and you’re driving him crazy because you’ve used his body wash and now you fucking smell like him?????!!!! sharing a bed and latching on to him in the middle of the night (you have absolutely no idea) because all you want is to be held by him I MEAN TALK ABOUT UWUS

just an idea 🥰

anyway i’d love to see you write this because you’re a fucking phenomenal writer <3 kisses mwuah

THIS- AAARGH 👹👹

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters), minors dni.

it's not that you're afraid they'll be mad at you for waking them up, it's that you literally rang the doorbell 934572475 times and they just didn't answer.. like they are DEAD asleep, you can't get in and you don't want to set off the alarm system so you're stuck on the front porch for the night :( your friend is out of town and you don't want to walk back to work to call a hotel to set up a reservation for one night, so you're kind of at a loss!! but then your eyes stray to a little muddy footprint on the sidewalk and you're like aw yeah that's when jack stepped in mud and then tracked it over the lawn and then you're like !! jack !! and his father !!

you know for a fact that jack is sleeping over at the neighbors house bc you'd seen him earlier, and you're fairly certain that it's because aaron needed to stay late at work. you're hoping he's still there, or at the very least, still awake, but when you call and he answers on the second ring with a very raspy 'hotchner', you realize you'd probably woken him up.

you're nervous now, because he's only been kind to you in the past, but now you've interrupted what little sleep the man gets, and what if he's angry? so you explain yourself very apologetically, assuring him that it's totally okay if you don't want to. but he barely hesitates before saying “stay put, honey. i’m on my way.” like you've said... WHAT IF I MARRIED HIM ??

UGH maybe you've been out with your friends so you're in a kind of skimpy outfit so he comes to pick you up like O.O and you laugh like if there's any spare t-shirts you don't mind me using, can i sleep in one? and he's like mhm. yeah honey i can do that. and he lets you use his bathroom 'cause jack's tub is full of bath toys and kid shampoo, and he's given you a shirt and some old loose shorts to sleep in, but you come out of the bathroom in your towel asking for a spare towel for your hair.

as he hands it over he realizes you smell like him now, because, oh fuck, of course you used his shampoo/body wash, and you brush out your hair using a little tiny brush that you ask him to retrieve from your purse. he definitely sees a tube of lipstick in your purse and he definitely imagines how it'll look on your lips and how it would look smeared on his cock

now while you were showering he'd gotten back in bed under the covers and was reading the newspaper with his little reading glasses on and !!!!!! you've never seen such a domestic sight !!!!!!! you're sure you could have crashed on the couch but it's a loveseat, not a full sofa, and :( it just wouldn't be comfortable :( and jack's bed is def too small, so when you're changed and ready for bed, you just hop right up into bed beside him and he looks at you like 🤨

you're like thanks for letting me stay here, aaron and he doesn't dare suggest you sleeping anywhere else, just nodding with a sweet little smile and asking if you were ready to turn off the lights. when you nod and snuggle into your spot in the bed he flicks the lamp off, and settles down into his spot. there's minimal talking, because neither of you are sure what to say, but once your breathing evens out and you drift off to sleep you roll over, in search of the warmth that he exudes. he doesn't even pretend to dislike it, he doesn't bother readjusting you or anything, he just curls his arm over your waist and helps you get your head on his chest <333

and when he wakes up to you clinging to him like a koala, he just kisses your forehead and brushes your hair away from your face to ask if you want breakfast 🥹🥹🥹 he mumbles it against your skin and everything all sleepy and soft GAH I NEED HIM <3

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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If you are up to it, could you write the prompth

❛ is that my shirt? ❜ for Aegon? It would allso fit modern!Aegon.

Morden!Aegon it is! Seeing as I rarely give myself the opportunity to do so. (Ngl this was shit.)

Summary: with most of the family out of the house, Aegon decides that now would be the best time to bring you over.

“Where are they?” Aegon whined, refusing to look at his phone like he had for the past fifth teen minutes, bringing both of his hands to rub away at tiredness within his eyes before letting them drop to be bedding below. Earlier that morning he had been told that he would be having the house to himself for the night. Upon asking why, Alicent told him that herself and Heleana has been invited by Rhaenyra, Baela and Rhaena for a girls night out whilst Aemond had a paper to work on at the public library. This information only told Aegon that none of them would be back until really late or within the early hours of the next day.

At first he was ecstatic with the potential prospects that came with being home alone. He could throw a party, walk about stark naked, whip out his secret weed stash and get high, TP Aemond’s room; The realm of possibilities were endless for Aegon. However when he tried talking Cregan and his nephew Jace into coming over to play games with him. The pair declined, stating that their respective teams had a big game going on that night and that they had already made plans with one another to head to the gym beforehand to get some last minute reps in. Disheartened by the turn of events, Aegon reached out to one last person whom he knew wouldn’t let him down; you.

So when a knock came from the front door Aegon had already bolted out of his bed and down the grand staircase, stopping only to quickly check his appearance in the mirror they had in the foyer, before unlocking the door to usher you inside. “Are you ready to partake in the most banger sleepover ever?” Aegon asked impatiently, eyeing the shoulder bag you had brought as you took off your shoes by the shoe rack, fearing of tracking mud or muck onto the pristine and rigorously polished floors. “Aegon, we’ve had many so called ‘banger’ sleepovers before, how is this going to be any different?” You asked as he slung an arm over your shoulders pressing you into his side, “my sweet, sweet y/n. The difference this time is (a) we’re all alone,” he wiggled his brows suggestively at you only to girlishly squeal when you lightly pinched his side, causing him to flinch away from your side momentarily before continuing.

“(B) we’re alone-“ “you said that twice now- where is everyone?” You cut him off as you tried waiting it out for someone else to appear out of the blue. Normally whenever you came to hang out at Aegon’s, Alicent would be in the bar room, Aemond would either be in the living room or his own private library, mostly reading and Heleana would be in the backyard playing with the dogs or making notes of the plethora of butterfly species that would come visit. The house never felt as spacious as it did with just you and Aegon it almost made you feel small, minuscule even so much so it unnerved you. “I didn’t tell you?” The eldest sibling inquired almost innocently as you shot him a glare. Aegon sighed, knowing that he was partially to blame for being quite vague in his demands for you to hang out, “Mom, Heleana and Aemond are out for the night and…I didn’t want to be alone.”

Aegon could see in your eyes what you were about to ask next and before you could be given a chance to vocalise it, he beaten you to the punch. “Now before you say it, yes I did ask the gym twins but they got their a stupid games tonight. You were the only option I had left…Sorry if that makes me uncool or whatever.” He finished also ashamedly, avoiding your eyes in favour of the money Alicent has left sat on the counter in the case he should get hungry during the night, she took into extreme consideration of the fact her son couldn’t cook for shit, even with a cookbook to guide him; She just didn’t feel like having to deal with the house being set ablaze all because Aegon wanted macaroni and cheese for dinner. You smiled sweetly upon seeing Aegon’s softer, more vulnerable side; He was already quite an emotive man, who was prone to crying out of frustration of his own emotions, but to see him in his natural environment with his guard down made him all the more sweeter in your eyes.

You reached out to grasp his hand in your own, relishing in the warmth it emitted as you squeezed it in means to comfort him. “You could never be uncool to me Aegon,” you reassured him, watching as his pretty doe lilac eyes met your own from underneath his lashes, “now let’s have ourselves the coolest sleeper over ever, yeah?” Just like that Aegon was back to being his normal self as his smile brightly beamed mischievously and his eyes glimmer cheekily under the fluorescent lights. “Hell yeah.” He responded as he swiped the money off of the counter and dragged you up the grand staircase to his room with state of the art LED lights that bathed the room in a deep royal blue.

You’ve been in his room many times before in the past but your eyes never seemed to get use to the colour lighting he chose, you wouldn’t have been able to make out a thing had the glare of his mounted tv not been there to illuminate the unnecessarily large king sided bed pressed up against the left wall; Nor the scattered clothes and other things that littered the floor. “You did happen to bring sleepwear with you, didn’t you?” Aegon asked as he rummaged through his bedsheets, victoriously pull out the remote he was searching for and brings up Nextflix. Whilst he was doing that you rummaged through your bag to find that you had exclusively brought only next day clothes; This technicality wasn’t your fault as you weren’t expecting to be asked to sleepover so late in the night.

To make up for your shortcomings, “Yeah. Got ‘em right here.” You replied as you quickly snatched one of Aegon’s shirt and sleep shorts off of the floor, though not before giving them a quick sniff to make sure that they were clean. “Good, go change in the bathroom whilst I search for a movie for us to watch.” Without needing to be told twice you made your way to bathroom, locking it behind you just incase Aegon got a little cheeky to then removing your clothes and into his grey sleep shorts -which you found were a little big but thank fuck for the existence of drawstrings- and his greyish blue shirt. “You ready yet?!” Aegon yelled from his room, cussing you to flinch slightly at the unexpectedness. “Yeah, yeah I’m ready calm your tits!” You exclaimed, picking up your clothes from the toilet seat, shoving them in your bag.

Aegon made sure to pause the movie of choice just as it was about to get into it’s opening sequence, when he heard you exit from the bathroom and what he saw when you came into his peripherals had the beginnings of a smirk cross his lips. “Is that my shirt? And are those my sleep shorts?” He inquired playfully as you looked down at the captain America; Civil War shirt you were wearing and shrugged. Aegon didn’t need you to tell him anything for he already pieces together everything in his head, which didn’t help his inflated ego anymore then it did make it obnoxiously bigger. His smirk widened as he hopped off the bed to get a closer look at you in his clothes.

“You didn’t have any sleepwear did you?” He asked rhetorically, “So instead of admitting to it, you stole mine and playing it off as though you did. Babe if all you wanted was to wear my clothes, just say so. After all,” his eyes looked you up and down, biting down on his lower lip, “I’m not complaining.” He practically purred which caused a flush of heat to flood your entire body. Which only got made more worse when the platinum haired male got into your personal space and tugged at your (read: his) shirt so you would be chest to chest with him. “Are we gonna watch the movie you spent such a dedicated amount of time searching for? Or are we just going stand here in hopes that something will happen.” You asked, feeding off of the tension building between the two of you. Aegon raises his brows, “I don’t know? Which one do you prefer sweetheart?” He asked in faux innocence as his face edged closer to your own as he whispers, “No need to worry about there being a time limit, we’ve got all night after all.”

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brabblesblog · 3 months

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What if it was Ban’s turn to dog sit scratch at the Crimson Palace? I’m sure Lord Ancunín would LOVE that 😅

Love is made of fur and dander

Alright! First ask I'm answering. This is a nice, rather fluffy AA piece for fun. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

The mutt's here. Here. In his Palace, in his home, tracking mud and fur and soil in its paws and gods know what else -

Astarion bites back the urge to yell at the wretched creature as it runs past where he's perched on his throne to Ban, who's seated on the floor, arms open for the mutt.

He sighs. "My dearest consort - you do realize how much fur this animal sheds, do you not? Do have some mercy on our floors and upholstery, please, and take him outside."

Ban looks up at him from the mess of white fur she's half-buried in, shooting him a small smile. "Oh, come on. It's only for a day, the servants can clean it all up afterwards, and the house will be none the worse for wear!"

He opens his mouth to retort; Ban gives him no chance. "Besides," she adds, "didn't werewolves use to live here? I remember seeing them the day we did the rite."

"They were a fairly recent addition by Cazador," Astarion replies, crossing his legs irritably. "Only summoned once I had escaped. And that doesn't trivialize any of my concerns; if anything it only proves them accurate - did you not see the sheer amount of fur littering the house that day?"

He's not mad, he thinks. Just... piqued. His beloved always has a penchant for loving strays. This dog, the owlbear that he worried would eat them one day, and, well - himself, if he's being honest.

Astarion watches more intently, leaning forward on his throne, watching his wife disappear into white fur yet again. He feels a slight pang of sympathy for the mutt, a creature who was picked up from certain doom by Ban, who's been given a new lease in life, who's been accepted by her, loved by her - and hopelessly loves her in turn.

Choosing to momentarily ignore that rush of affection in his breast the Ascendant stands and approaches the pair. The moment he's close he regrets it; Scratch immediately bounds towards him, standing up on its haunches in an attempt to lick his face. The dog's forepaws land on the cream lapels of his suit and he curses, despairing of what its condition will be.

"Gods! I've half a mind to drink you dry, mutt!" he hisses, only to be met by his wife's incensed glare. Ban calls Scratch back to her, and holds him protectively.

"Astarion," she chides. "He is a dog. He does not know any better."

"Yes, I am fully, painfully, aware of that fact - but look at my suit!" He gestures at the cream soiled by mud, the rest of the suit none too worse for wear other than for a smattering of dander.

She shrugs. "And so are my clothes. We can have it washed. Stop whinging." Ban finally stands, patting her thigh to ask the dog to follow her. "We're heading to the bedroom. I'd very much like to nap, and I missed cuddling Scratch like we used to in camp."

The Vampire Ascendant, the greatest vampire in all the realms, splutters at those words. Their bed. Really? When Ban has always been so precious about the sheets, asking him to remove your shoes, please and don't wear anything other than nightclothes on the bed, my love and yet she'll let Scratch stay there?

"Ban," he manages to grit out, jaw clenched. "The bed. Are you serious?"

"Oh, completely," she says, not even looking back. "You're free to join us, you know."

He watches them go, crossing his arms. No. Under no circumstances is he joining them. Never mind that they used to do that, back in their adventuring days, Ban wrapped in his arms while the dog slept on top of them. Never mind that it was comfortable, even nice - and oh gods, is he actually considering this?

Ban peeks her head out from the mass of white licking her face to see her husband walk in, a sullen look on his face. He's taken his clothes off save his underwear in some ridiculous attempt to save them, she realizes; she can't help the bark of laughter that crosses her at this.

He glowers, then sits at the edge of the bed. "I had nothing better to do, so I'll indulge you this," he grumbles, "but you can never complain about clothes on the bed ever again. Is that a deal?"

She frowns, weighing it; Scratch chooses that moment to bound over to Astarion again. Despite himself he lets his hand run through the dog's fur, the feeling of it sending him back to those days at camp. He absently cards through the white, coarse hairs, smiling a little.

"Fine," Ban finally says. "You can wear whatever you wish to the bed, but -"

"I know," he says, "no footwear of any kind is allowed; I am fully aware. You needn't remind me every single time."

She rolls her eyes. "Well you need reminding, considering how many times you do it."

Another sigh and he finally crawls towards her, grabbing her by the waist and tugging her close. He presses himself against her back, placing kisses down her jaw to her throat. "Can I tempt you into something a little more interesting than a nap, darling?"

She chuckles, and as she does Scratch settles over his usual spot on top of their legs; Astarion groans at the reminder.

"I suppose that's a no," he mumbles, and Ban's bark of laughter is all the confirmation he needs.

He lets out an exaggerated, long suffering sigh, then settles against her. "If only I didn't love you so much, Ban," he whispers right against her ear.

"Ah, don't pretend, Astarion." She turns to place a kiss on his lips, one he returns with eagerness. "We both know you enjoy this too."

He harrumphs, but knows the battle is lost. Not that he minds much, really.

This, after all, is nice.

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @ battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptrr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog@asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind@pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @girlygamer-blog

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alltheirdamn · 2 months

Text

Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader

Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS

Masterlist

You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye.

“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room.

You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth.

“I’m sure he will, honey.”

Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once.

The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder.

Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath.

Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you.

“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled.

“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”

“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you.

“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied.

Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck.

“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in.

The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you.

“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen.

The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry.

Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes.

“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice.

“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”

“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed.

He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you.

“It’s good?” You asked.

“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite.

Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork.

“Delicious, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth.

Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his.

“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.

He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”

His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.

“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”

“Please,” you choked.

“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.

“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.

He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong.

Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor.

“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled.

You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?

With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher.

“Louder,” he ordered.

You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings.

“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?”

You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck.

“Answer me, little one,” he snapped.

“Y–Yes,” you muttered.

Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher.

His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart.

“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted.

He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate.

“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”

You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp.

He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it.

“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you.

“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”

Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet.

“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”

You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare.

“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth.

You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety.

Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled. “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”

You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip.

“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”

He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread.

You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved.

“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen.

Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards.

“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms.

His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”

Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there.

Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare.

“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried.

His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine.

“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”

Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him.

“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned.

He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean.

“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”

The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips.

“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”

Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left.

“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained.

You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax.

“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged.

“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest.

“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word.

“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled.

Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress.

The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach.

“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed.

You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.

#dark!joel x reader #dark!preacher!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #dubious consent #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #no outbreak au #dub con #non con #religion!kink

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