#the coat thing fucking killed me as soon as i noticed it
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shoutout to the live action films for making the executive decision to nuke greed’s backstory and instead just have him repeatedly show up unannounced with no explanation, making him the funniest character in the whole movie
Bonus:
#for real greedling fans made out like bandits in those movies#like of all the things they could've fucked up instead they just decided to make him Hilarious#also greed leaving Immediately means he found that vest and horrible pants Somewhere Else and now i'm laughing at that too#fma#fmab#fullmetal alchemist#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood#greed#greedling#ling yao#fu#father#envy#fullmetal alchemist live action#my art#doodles#comic#the coat thing fucking killed me as soon as i noticed it#he really did just take a minute to take off his fucking jacket for No Reason before running to help fu#really was just getting too hot in the sun had to remove some layers#there's actually one more shitpost i made but it was getting crowded so it'll the the next bonus i guess lol#it's been a hot sec since i made some nonsense hasn't it lol
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Claims
Pairing: Changbin x Reader
Word Count: 0.7K
Genre: Smut 🔞
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, swearing, explicit content
This is a very late requested/inspired one for @thotracha inspired by this
Changbin can get a little jealous over things you don't even notice.
You thought visiting him would be exactly that, just a visit. You would sit in their designated room surrounded by the other guys laughing, probably eating and surrounded by various staff. But this time it was distinctly different this time the air felt electric and his dark eyes pierced you the moment you entered the room.
"Hi baby" you smiled, head quirking slightly to silently ask him what was up.
"Bunny, you made it" he announced playfully the tone not at all matching his face. You weaved your way between the makeup artists and stylists to him only for him to pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around you, his hands rougher with you than usual. Burring his head into your neck trying to maintain his usual behaviors he decided to let you in on his mood.
"Fuck, I need you bunny" he almost growled lowly against your skin "When were alone I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk". A shiver of anticipation crawled up your spine making you lick your lips.
You chatted and laughed as you waited for the point in time when you were finally alone with Changbin, his words having already lit a fire in you that you couldn't ignore fighting in your spot on his lap he occasionally changed your position to help hide the semi that you could feel pressed against your arse.
As soon as the staff were breaking for dinner Chan, conveniently, corralled the guys into also leaving, giving Changbin his time alone with you. Within moments he was practically ripping the fabric of your shirt to get it off your body, fueled by whatever insatiable lust he had been trying to hide from the others, making you yelp at the force he was using.
"Binnie you're going to tear them" you protested quietly his lips trying to silence your own as he tore your underwear almost in half in his haste.
"I'll buy you more bunny" he grunted, placing you on your knees on the couch and swiping the head of his thick cock through your wetness, coating himself enough to start pressing himself inside you. You keened at the sensation wiggling slightly to pull away from him not prepped enough to take his length yet
"nuh huh bunny you can take it" he moaned continuing to bottom out inside your velvet walls.
"Fuck Changbin ah ah... I can't....ah too much" you gasped, his thrusts were hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, his thick cock making you feel like you were being split in two but no longer trying to move away from him.
"Shit... so fucking tight bunny" he grunted "So good to me bunny, so fucking good letting me fuck you like this".
"Changbin" you whined, one of his hands moving to start circling your clit groaning as he felt a wave of your juices soak his cock dripping from you onto his thighs.
"Fuck bunny your going to kill me" he groaned the sound of slick skin slapping against skin the only noise in the room other then your whines and his harsh breathing.
"Bin, I can't" you sobbed the pleasure overwhelming you as he just continued to punch into your velvet walls.
"You can bunny and you will" he ground out his fingers pinching you clit sharply making your walls begin to flutter around him "Fuck there you go bunny".
Ah...Ngh...Fuck you almost screamed as you came undone around him making him growl and reach his own peak you walls milking him dry. He slowly pulled out of you grabbing a towel from his bag to clean you up enough to get you dressed again as you flopped bonelessly on the chair trying to regain your breath.
"What has gotten into you today" you finally croaked your voice hoarse.
"Too many idols looking at you" he smirked "Had to show them you're mine bunny".
"What?" you almost laughed "No one looks at me baby, only you". He smiled softly and kissed your temple.
A/N: Thank you for reading, all your comments, reblogs and likes are incredible. I have a special 2k follower story coming but I haven't finished it yet xx
Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @bakedlilgoonie, @krishastumblernow, @mrsseals16, @fawnpeaks, @leeknowinggg, @uno7, @tanzen-ist-gold
#seo changbin x reader#changbin x reader#changbin smut#seo changbin smut#stray kids fics#skz fics#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut#skz imagines#skz hard thoughts#skz hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours
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ok I've had this idea for a little bit but feel free to skip it if you don't like the idea!
So it can be NSFW or sfw but like,chuuya with a shape shifter reader who sometimes turns into him to mess with him (I have ideas for NSFW but yk)
READER WHO CAN SHAPESHIFT― chuuya nakahara x reader
warnings: lowercase writing, somewhat crack, lmao, nsfw warning at the bottom(plz, i'm so tired i rushed it lmao)
uhm, anon i would love to hear your nsfw ideas; please i beg!! really hope you enjoy, sorry guys i'm so tried so my upcoming posts may not be the best, OR even written for some time
@justcallmesakira @riiwrites @ruanais
chuuya
found your ability pretty cool, actually!!
it's really useful for mission and other stuff like that.
likes to see your ability in action.
you can turn into almost anyone!
one time, you turned into dazai and just bothered him with it the entire day.
he made sure to get you back someway, because if he didn't know it was you he would have punched you in the face.
however, he never expected for you to turn into him??
through chuuya's form, you ere chatting to tachihara and he thought chuuya, aka you, was drunk off his mind.
"you'll never believe what i heard akutagawa said to atsushi on this one mission, he's so gay..." chuuya spoke; however knew something was off by the way he spoke.
tachihara blinked, "ah huh..have-have you been drinking?"
"i don't drink; i collect!"
tachihara walked away awkwardly; shrugging when he noticed gin behind the wall he walked.
chuuya grinned as he turned on his feel and walked away as well; but with less awkwardness.
not even into the next day, more like late evening, just as you and chuuya were about to head out, akutagawa ran into chuuya first; and he didn't seem happy to see him.
as you sipped on your tea, legs hoisted up on your desk, you heard rabid footsteps from outside your door and two seconds later chuuya's figure came running in, beads of sweat rolled down his face as he had his back to the door.
his hat almost fully off his head, and his coat half of and on.
"chuuya!!" you cheered gleefully, trying your hardest to act innocent.
"back so soon-"
"he's mental!" chuuya cried, grabbing onto your arm and stared back at the door.
"who?" you played along.
"that vampire lookin ass, akutagawa. jeezus; what the fuck is he on??"
"well; what happened?"
chuuya pants, letting go of your arm when he thought he was safe...
"something about that weretiger! it's always the weretiger!!"
"and he's mad at youuu..." you hid your giggles...
chuuya fixed his hat; "because he thinks i told everyone what he told atsushi; I WASN'T EVEN THERE WHEN HE WAS ON THAT MISSION!!"
oh boy, when he finds out.
"well, he seems to be chiil now...how about we head home and.." you take his hand, but before he could respond at all...the door bursts open and akutagawa is there, just standing there and chuuya shrieks from the sudden loud noise.
"i will kill you-"
"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!!!"
"he's right it was me.." you confessed.
"exactly, it was the- WHAT THE FUCK???"
okay anyways;
the only nsfw thing i can really think of, is when you turn into the person you shapeshift into, you know where they're weakest points are.
you ABUSE that in bed.
say your top; and he's just a mess under you.
slightest touch on his weakest point with have he a sobbing mess.
"taking it like the good boy you are, hmm~"
"th-hahts right; right there, ah?~"
"so you lied? tch, tch, this is your weakest spot, hah?~"
kay, i'm done<3
#bsd#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#bsd x you#chuuya x you#bsd x y/n#bungo stray dogs#bsd fluff#bungou stray dogs x you#bungou stray dogs#bsd headcanons#my writing#๋࣭ ⭑ rue writes 🖋
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Yearling - Ch. 3: Noise
You start getting to know Jackson - and yourself. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-2 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Attempted SA (not completed). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 6.5k
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Electricity had a sound.
You’d never noticed it before but that had to be what it was. The buzzing.
It felt loud in the small room, a constant whine that made your ears ring. Everything here was loud, it was so fucking loud. The people on the street outside, the sound of the lights and the power humming in the walls, the tick of a clock in the corner.
Was the world always this fucking loud before? Were you just numb to it before?
You closed your eyes and crossed your arms tight over your body. You were still in that man’s coat. Your legs were freezing, feet numb. Your fingers were starting to defrost and they hurt but your stomach felt oddly numb. The wetness of your blood was there against your skin but the pain wasn’t there. It should be but it wasn’t. You didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“You’re a hard woman to keep track of.”
You jumped back, away from the voice, eyes flying open, arms flying out and hands groping for something - anything - you could use for a weapon.
“Woah, you’re OK,” there was a woman in front of you. She was older than you - you thought, anyway, you weren’t quite sure what year it was - and she had a gentle, kindly look to her. Her hands were up in front of her, empty except for a pen, a notepad tucked below her arm. “Not going to hurt you, you’re OK.”
That seemed like bullshit. Everything in this fucking town seemed like bullshit, none of it made any goddamn sense. Your eyes darted but there wasn’t much here. It reminded you of a doctor’s office waiting room. A few couches, a coffee table with some books and old magazines on it - the kind of magazines your mom would put out, not the ones she’d actually read, shit with short stories and pictures of landscapes in it. Nothing you could really use as a weapon. Your best hope would be running.
You should have just left when you had the fucking horse, you shouldn’t have listened to that man. It didn’t matter that he seemed strangely familiar and safe and beautiful you should have listened to your fucking gut and run, had you learned nothing since the outbreak? You don’t trust people, that’s how you get fucking killed or worse. People were dangerous, people were so fucking dangerous.
And now you were in a town full of them.
“Can you talk?” The woman asked, her brows raised, hands still up.
“Yes I can fuckin’ talk,” you kept backing up until you were flush with the wall behind you. God this was fucking stupid how had you been this goddamn stupid? “Do I look like a moron to you?”
“Absolutely not,” she said kindly. She was talking to you the way you talked with wild horses. Like she was trying to keep you from lashing out or taking off. “You just seem scared and like you’ve been through a lot. Sometimes people aren’t able or willing to talk after things like that and that’s OK.”
“I’m fine,” you snapped. “Just need to get out of here…”
“OK,” she said. “I can help you with that. Let me just take a look at where you’re bleeding and we can get you out of here, sound good?”
“Why.”
The woman frowned.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to see where I’m bleedin’,” you asked. You were starting to feel the pain in your stomach. Your head was light, vision fuzzy on the edges. “What do you want with me?”
“Just want to help you,” she said. “Promise. If you don’t get in bed soon I’m guessing you’re not going to have much say in the matter, you’d lost a lot of blood when you came in and you’re losing more. You’re going to pass out if you’re not careful. So just let me help you, that’s all I want to do.”
She was right. You knew enough about keeping yourself alive that you knew when you were close to passing out and you weren’t far off from it. You couldn’t stay on your feet much longer, not without help.
Help this woman was apparently offering. For whatever fucking reason.
You tried to think of another option but your brain was fuzzy, too. Slow and sluggish, like working your way through the well worn pathways of survival in your head suddenly required swimming through Jell-o.
But you wouldn’t survive if you tried to run now. Even if no one ran you down, you’d pass out in the snow and freeze in hours at best. That’s assuming no one else got their hands on you first. It was better to give in to whatever these people wanted and escape when you were stronger. Then you’d have a chance at making it. You’d stolen a horse once, you could do it again. And you doubted anything they were going to do to you here was going to be any worse than other shit you’d managed to live through.
“You can look,” you said, relaxing back from the wall a bit so you were no longer clinging to the wood.
“Thank you,” she smiled a little. “Come with me? It’ll be easier if you’re in my exam room. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”
You didn’t trust that. You couldn’t afford to trust that.
But she was probably in her late 60s, smaller than you and definitely weaker. Even injured, you could overpower her. That made it better.
You didn’t say anything, you just nodded and followed behind her a small room with a padded table in the middle. She set out a step stool and patted the end of it.
“Can you hop on up for me and lie back?” She asked. You kept your eye on her as you obeyed. You might be in here with this woman but you weren’t about to turn your back on her. The table was cold on your bare legs and you found yourself oddly thankful to the man who’d given you his jacket. You didn’t understand that either. “Just going to…”
The woman opened the front of the coat and lifted the shirt, making you stiffen. She gingerly touched near your injuries and you tried not to flinch.
“You pushed it too hard, honey,” she said, smiling a little sadly at you. “I’m going to need to repack these and you need to actually take it easy for a while, OK?”
You looked back toward the ceiling and didn’t respond.
“Let me know if something I do hurts too much, we can take a break,” she said, going to a cabinet and coming back with a tray of shiny medical equipment. She set to work around your stomach and your fingers dug into the cuffs of the man’s coat, the wool and leather of it comforting to the touch. “Want to tell me your name? I’m Carol Livingston, the doctor here in Jackson…”
“What do you want my name for?” You clenched your jaw as you felt her pull something out of you. “What was that?”
“Gauze,” she held up a wad of bloody fabric in a pair of tiny tongs. “Can’t stitch up a gunshot wound, had to try and make sure we’d cut off the source of major bleeding and then pack it for a bit while it healed. If you don’t do things like climb out a window and take off on a horse, it’s usually pretty effective. And I’d like your name so I know what to call you. Start a file for you since you’re here now, all that.”
“A file?” You hissed it as she pulls more gauze from you.
“Sorry honey,” she said. “Almost done. And yes, a file. You’re old enough, you remember before, you must have gone to some doctors, they had records. Going to flush this with water now, stay still for me, OK?”
“I remember before,” you gritted your teeth and tried to think about something besides what she was doing to you.
“It’s important to have a medical history,” she said, sounding a little distracted. “And to keep track we need a name. Going to put more gauze in now, almost done…”
It had been years since anyone knew your name. You hadn’t given it to anyone in decades.
The last time had been 2003. September 27, 2003, to be precise.
Just a few days into the outbreak and you were already disoriented and uncertain about how much time had passed. But the first day was easy to remember. You rode Nike until she was foaming at the mouth, pushing her far harder than you should have. But you didn’t have another choice.
You stopped at a ranch, one that seemed quiet and still now. There were bodies, though. Flies were on them, gaping wounds in their chests and stomachs. One had a bite at their neck like Justin did.
The ranch was big, one you recognized from the summer tourist season and taking rich people who wanted to pretend they were roughing it on trail rides. There should have been a lot of people here but they were gone.
You were still quiet, guiding Nike slowly to the paddock, eyes wide open as you waited for someone - something - to come for you. Nothing did.
You got off Nike for the first time since you’d left home, opening the gate and letting her in. The trough was dry and a horse in the corner lifted its head from where it was grazing to look at you, not paying you much mind. You looked around for a moment and found a water spigot and refilled the trough before pulling the gun from the waistband of your panties. The metal had all but carved a spot in your skin from where you’d been bent over it, clinging to Nike as you fled the chaos and the death. You crept toward the bunkhouse, so like the ones you’d fled hours before, when it was still dark.
Pickings were slim when it came to clothes. You were the only woman rancher where you’d come from and there had been no women working on your parents’ ranch when you were a girl. You checked a few rooms at the bunk house before you spotted the main house through a window. If there was a woman living here - your best shot at finding pants and boots that fit - it would be there.
You crept over the open land, gun in front of you and aimed at the ground, the sharpness of the earth snagging on your feet. The main door to the house was open and the table in the entry was overturned, broken glass from what looked like was once a bowl scattered across the ground. You tiptoed around it, hoping you didn’t cut your feet too badly, and went upstairs, whole body tense.
It didn’t take long to find the bedrooms. There was a teenaged girl living here, one who looked like she was a bit younger than you judging by the posters on the wall and the canopy over her bed, but not much smaller than you. You raided her closet, focusing on things that could be a little tight but would still work - t-shirts and sweatpants. You emptied a backpack that had been tossed in the corner onto her bed and started packing.
You found the master bedroom next. Thankfully, the rancher was married and his wife was closer to your size than his daughter. Another blessing, this rancher’s wife actually dressed like she lived on a damn ranch unlike your own mother. Her Levis were the same size you wore but a different cut than you usually went for. Her shirts would just about fit, and she had bras that were only a cup size off from your own. You got changed quickly and grabbed extras of everything. Her boots were a size too big, so you grabbed a few pairs of thick socks and layered them before putting them on. Being dressed again was a comfort. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you’d felt because you’d been half naked, not just because you’d been attacked and everyone seemed to be losing their humanity.
Next was the kitchen. You grabbed what non-perishables you could fit in the pack - a stash of Poptarts, cans of chili and soup - and gorged yourself on what was left in the fridge. You chugged sodas and peeled hard boiled eggs so fast that you knew you’d eaten some shell, too. You devoured the pears in the basket on the counter and added the apples to your bag before finding a canteen and filling it with water. There was a bottle of Advil in the pantry and you grabbed that, too. You tried turning on the TV in the living room, seeing if there was a news network that had information, but all that was being broadcast was an emergency alert signal, the sound so loud it made your ears ring. It said to stay inside. Like hell you were doing that.
Overly full and no longer half naked, you made your way back toward the barn to look for tack for Nike. Once she’d had a rest, you planned to get underway again. It might be quiet now but you weren’t counting on it to stay that way. You’d feel better with some distance, at least until all this shit - whatever it was - got figured out.
Once you were at the barn, you started at the gun safe. Lucky for you, someone had left the door hanging open in the chaos of whatever the fuck had happened the night before. There was just one weapon left - a shot gun - and some ammo. You grabbed all of it and put the ammunition and the handgun into a saddle pack you’d grabbed from the tack room. You loaded the shotgun and tucked it under your arm before you moved on.
You’d just found a saddle that would work well for both you and Nike when you heard the door creak. You spun, whipping the shotgun around into your grip, aiming it at the man standing in the doorway. He threw his hands up and froze.
“Woah there little girl,” he said. You narrowed your eyes. “Not here to cause you any trouble…”
“Then get the fuck out,” you said. “Shot two other men today, don’t mind makin’ you the third.”
“You’re the one in my barn,” he said, still in the door, hands still up. “Takin’ my shit…”
“This ain’t your ranch,” you looked him up and down. There hadn’t been a bedroom for a young man upstairs and he wasn’t old enough to have a teenaged daughter.
“No but I work here,” he said. “Think I’m the last one left. Think that makes it mine. You’re not gonna lose your mind on me like everyone else here did, right?”
“No,” you snapped. “Are you?”
“Don’t think so,” he said. “But I don’t think they did, either.”
You lowered your gun slowly, still watching him. He lowered his hands but stayed by the door.
“That your horse out there?” He asked. “The filly?”
“She’s mine,” you said. “Couldn’t get her tack before I left, wasn’t safe.”
“You can take that,” he said, nodding to the saddle that you’d dropped in your haste to defend yourself from him. “Reins, bit and bridle, too. Whatever else you want… She broke enough for you to ride though?”
You scoffed.
“She’s dumb broke but I’m the one who got her there,” your fingers twitched on the gun. “Don’t need you fuckin’ her up for me.”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Just never seen a girl rancher before, let alone one who breaks horses…”
“I’ve been breakin’ horses since I was 13,” you stuck your chin out, defensive. “And I’m a champion bronc rider, too, so I can promise I can stay on the back of an unbroken horse a lot longer than you.”
“Alright, alright,” he smiled a little. “Not tryin’ to call your expertise into question. I’m Leo, what’s your name?”
You clenched your jaw for a second. Part of you was telling you to run, even if you didn’t shoot him, at least get the fuck away from him.
But you were also alone. You’d never been alone this long before. You’d moved straight from your parents house into the bunkhouse. You had your own room but there was always someone just on the other side of the wall, always someone in the barn, always someone else working with a horse or repairing a fence or mucking a stall. You’d never been truly alone, not like this. If this guy hadn’t become an inhuman monster, maybe he never would. Maybe you didn’t have to be alone.
You gave him your name. He stepped closer.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “Like I said, there’s no one else here. Everyone else is dead. Don’t think there’s anyone but you and me for miles. Stay. For a bit. You and I both know your mount needs some rest, not sure where you pushed her from but you pushed her.”
“You would too if you were in my shoes,” you snapped and then sighed. “But she could use the rest…”
“I’m just glad to know I ain’t the only person left who wasn’t some flesh eating monster,” he laughed once. “It’ll be good. Promise.”
It was good, for a day. Nike rested. You and Leo went through all the rooms of the bunkhouse and the main house, taking inventory. You figured the two of you could hold out there for weeks at least while the rest of the world got its shit together. Plenty of time for things to calm down and some new kind of normal set in. You could figure it out from there.
Your second night there, Leo raided the liquor cabinet at the main house. You recognized the labels from your dad’s own stash, the thick amber liquid in heavy crystal glasses as much a part of his identity as his belt or his hat. Leo poured you a cup and you got drunk around a fire, not far from the horses, the stars bright overhead.
It felt good. You liked it. Until Leo tried to kiss you.
“No,” you shoved him back, twisting your body so you could put your boot in his chest if you needed to. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”
“C’mon baby,” he leaned closer but stopped when you gave him a warning look. “You really gonna tell me that I might be the last man on Earth and you’re turnin’ me down?”
“Could be the last man in the universe and I couldn’t give less of a shit,” you snapped. “If that’s what you want, I’m leavin’.”
You got up to go but his arms flew out, his eyes wide.
“No, please!” He was begging, pleading. “Don’t go, please don’t go. I don’t want to be on my own here, I’m sorry I did that, won’t happen again…”
You looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. But he looked sorry. He sounded sorry. And you didn’t want to be alone, either.
“It better fuckin’ not,” you said, sitting down on the ground again, putting more distance between the two of you.
He kept his hands to himself until you woke up with his weight on top of you. You could feel him through your jeans, your wrists in his hands holding you to the ground, his mouth by your ear as he moaned your name.
You shrieked, making him jump, lifting his head enough that you could slam your forehead into his nose. It crushed beneath your skull and he yelped, his hands leaving your wrists and flying to his face as he collapsed next to you. You scrambled away from him, going for the saddlebag and grabbing the pistol from inside it. You aimed it at him, standing over him as he sobbed, holding his face, blood on his fingers.
“What the fuck?” He was crying, his face red. “Why’d you do that?”
His voice was thick.
“Told you not to fucking touch me,” you snapped, panting for breath. Your heart was pounding, you could hear your blood in your ears. You were shockingly sober after all the whiskey you’d had earlier in the night. You aimed the gun at his leg and shot him in the thigh. He screamed. “Lucky I don’t fucking kill you.”
You grabbed the backpack and tack for Nike, hauling it outside. You kept the gun easily accessible as you saddled her up before going back into the barn for one last check for what you needed. Leo was still on the ground, clutching his leg. You sighed and got the first aid kit off the wall, throwing it at him, before you got the shot gun and some rope from the wall. You tucked the pistol into your jeans, slung the rope on your arm and aimed the shotgun at him as you made your way to the paddock again.
“I ever see you again, I will shoot you in the head,” you said. “Understand?”
There was a trail of blood from his nose over his mouth, his chin, staining his shirt.
“You’re gonna die on your own out there,” he snarled. “And you’re gonna fuckin’ deserve it.”
“Better than living here with you,” you said, leaving him alone in the barn. You opened the gate and led Nike out before closing it and mounting up, keeping the shotgun accessible.
“C’mon girl,” you gave her ribs a squeeze as you pointed her in the direction of the mountains, away from the place you’d come from. “You and me, let’s go.”
It was the last time you’d told someone your name. It was the last time you’d heard your name said by anyone who wasn’t you. It felt dangerous, sharing it, but you sometimes said it to yourself the first few years of the outbreak. First, middle, last. Just to make sure it didn’t fade into nothing.
You hadn’t done that in years.
But you did then, you said all three to the doctor as she gently put gauze into your body to soak up your blood.
“See, not so bad to share is it?” She said, smiling gently. She got out more gauze and medical tape and put it over your wounds. “There, you’re all set. Want to see?”
You nodded and she helped you sit up and got a mirror from a cupboard, holding it in front of your stomach so you could see without needing to bend as much.
“You were shot twice,” she said, pointing to the spots covered in clean, white gauze. “We were able to make the worst of the bleeding stop and pull the bullets out without opening you up more, which is good. You have some other bumps and bruises but we’re pretty sure there’s no internal bleeding, which was a concern, and no broken bones that we could find evidence of. You’re just still down a lot of blood, hon, so you have to take it easy, OK?”
Being shot sounded familiar. You knew there was a stretch of time you were missing. You remembered running, Cody helping you get out. You’d been on the run for three days - you thought, anyway - before they caught up with you, the fresh snow giving you away. You didn’t remember much after that. There was pain and red snow and something soft and warm that smelled woodsy and wild, like the coat you still had on.
There was a knock at the door and you jumped, eyes going wide. The doctor smiled a little and tugged your shirt back down. You pulled the coat back tight around you.
“Come on in, Maria,” she called, keeping her eyes on you. A woman opened the door, a pile of clothes in her hand. She was about your age, you thought, and pretty. She smiled a little at you. “She’s all set with me but I’d like to keep her here overnight, make sure she hasn’t lost too much blood…”
“Sure thing, Carol,” Maria said.
“I’m going to leave you in Maria’s very capable hands,” Carol smiled. “You’re OK now, honey. You’re OK.”
She got up and left, closing the door softly behind her. You fought the urge to back away from the woman standing next to you now.
“Hi,” she smiled gently. “I’m Maria. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m here to help you. First thing, you’re safe here. You don’t have to be afraid of me…”
“Not afraid,” you cut her off. “Just like knowing where I am and that I can leave when I want is all.”
“Well, you’re in Jackson, Wyoming,” she said.
You nodded slowly.
“What part of the state is that in?” You asked.
“Near the Idaho border, south of Yellowstone,” she replied. You nodded again. Not too far from where you’d been then. That was oddly relieving, knowing they hadn’t taken you that far. “And you can leave whenever you want. We’d just like you to not die when you do so we’d like it if you stayed with us for a little while, at least. You were picked up by one of our patrols a few days ago…”
“This a QZ?” You asked. “There are a lot of people here…”
“No,” she laughed a little. “No, we’re not a QZ. We’re a commune, just a few hundred people who have agreed to share the work and the benefits of living together as a community…”
“So what do you want with me?” You frowned. You still hadn’t gotten a straight answer to that, not one that made sense, anyway.
“Nothing at all,” she said. Her voice was so calm and even, you wanted to lean into it, to trust her. That alone made your chest tight. “Our patrol didn’t want you to die in the woods and we take care of the people who come here. You’re welcome to stay, if you want. We have houses, clothes, plenty of food. If you stay you’d have to pitch in but no more than anyone else.”
You narrowed your eyes at her and she laughed.
“You don’t look like you believe me.”
“I can’t say I do,” you said. “That doesn’t… people don’t just do that shit, especially not now.”
She smiled, a little sadly.
“You were on your own for a while out there, I’m guessing,” she said. She was mostly right so you nodded. “We are an unusual place, I’ll admit that. But we’re good people and we’re proud of what we’ve built here. We won’t hold you prisoner and if you want to go, you can go. But I think you should at least consider sticking around. People aren’t all bad, you just have to find the right ones.”
“And you think I’m one of the right ones,” you said, still skeptical.
She shrugged.
“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “But honestly, anyone who tries as hard to live as you did is a good person to have around. And we have plenty of room here. May as well have you take up some of it.”
You nodded slowly.
“To start, let’s get you into something that isn’t bloody and a little warmer,” she said, holding out a small pile of clothes. “When was the last time you ate something?”
“I’m not sure,” you said. “Don’t know how long I was running or how long I was out.”
Maria nodded.
“I’ll get you something small to start, see how you do,” she said. “In a day or two, when Carol says you’re up for it, I’ll give you the tour, get you settled into a house. Sound good?” You nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. Try not to hurt yourself getting changed, I’d rather not get on Carol’s bad side.”
You smiled a little and waited for her to leave before you delicately shrugged out of the coat and peeled off the bloody shirt. She’d brought you a long sleeved t-shirt this time, a little oversized and pale blue. The pants were plaid, the same color blue in part of the pattern. You lay down to slide the shorts off and pull on the clean underwear and pants Maria had brought. Sitting back up took work but you were proud of yourself for getting there. You lifted the shirt and checked to make sure the gauze was still white, no signs of bleeding getting bad again. You shrugged back into the coat and were pulling on thick, wool socks when Maria came back, knocking once before opening the door with food in hand.
“We’re starting you slow, don’t want to push it according to Carol,” she said. “But I have some soup, half a sandwich, an apple and some water for you. Eat what you can, OK?” You nodded.
“Any questions for me right now?”
“When is it?” You asked. She looked at her watch but you cut her off. “Sorry, no, I mean what month is it?”
“November,” she said. “Early November, Thanksgiving is in three weeks.”
Thanksgiving. You’d all but forgotten about Thanksgiving.
“What year?” You asked, brows raised, fingernails digging into your leg.
“It’s 2025,” she said.
You tried to hide your surprise at that but it didn’t go well.
“What?” She asked.
“I’m younger than I thought I was,” you replied. It felt like you’d been with them for longer than that but apparently not. “Not that it really matters.”
“You can say you’re even younger if you want,” she smiled a little. “Beauty of the apocalypse, no one is going to check your birth certificate. Just be 22 forever.”
You laughed at that, hard enough that you felt the wounds at your stomach pull and you winced.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to not be too funny. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” you gripped the edge of the table. “Could you hand me that mirror? The one on the counter? I just… haven’t seen myself in a while.”
“Sure,” she smiled tightly again and handed you the mirror, face down, before heading for the door. “I’ll see you again soon, OK?”
You nodded and she closed the door behind her.
It only took a few seconds before you could hear what felt like everything again. The room was tinged pink, the sun setting outside, and the electricity was buzzing. You lifted the mirror slowly and held it in front of yourself with your eyes closed for a second before you took a deep breath and opened them.
Recognizing your own face was a shock. It seemed like, after everything, you should look different now. And part of you did. You were bruised and there was a cut on your cheek and you thought the signs of creases next to your eyes were more obvious now than they had been the last time you saw yourself. Your hair was starting to streak with gray. But your eyes were still your eyes. So were your teeth, your nose, your eyebrows. You were still you. You still looked like you. It was disorienting. It was comforting. You set the mirror down before you ate the food Maria brought you, suddenly starving but just a few bites feeling heavy in your empty stomach.
Eventually, Carol came back and brought you to the room you first woke up in. The bed had been made with fresh sheets.
“Here,” she smiled gently. “Why don’t I take that coat…”
“No,” you said quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. She frowned. “No, I… I want to hold onto it, if that’s OK.”
“Not going to try to run on us again are you?” She asked, brows drawn together. “Because…”
“No,” you cut her off. “I just… it’s warm, I like it. I want to keep it. For now.”
She looked at you, like she didn’t believe you. Which she shouldn’t. You didn’t want to keep it because you were cold or because you wanted to run. You wanted to keep it because it felt good. It smelled right. Your fingers tightened on the cuffs. You didn’t remember much about coming here the first time. All you really knew was because of this coat. The man had given it to you and when it settled over your body, the collar brushing your nose, the smell of it brought back a memory you didn’t know you had. One where you were warm and in a daze and swaying on the back of a horse with something broad and warm at your back. Safe. You liked safe. You needed the coat.
“OK,” she said. “If you need a bathroom, there’s one right through that door there. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”
You waited until she closed the door before you crawled in bed. It was dark outside now but you knew it couldn’t be too late. Even so, you were exhausted, and you somehow felt safe enough to close your eyes and rest.
***
“That girl is not sticking around,” Maria said as Joel sat beside Tommy in the mess hall at dinner.
“Who isn’t?” He asked.
“That woman you brought in from outside,” she replied. “She is skittish as hell, seemed fucking terrified…”
“After seeing what she did to the men out there, we should be thankful she’s just skittish,” Joel said, starting in on his meatloaf.
“What’d she do?” She frowned, looking to her husband. Tommy winced, bouncing his son on his leg.
“Well, now, see, I didn’t want to worry you…”
“Tommy,” she said in a warning tone.
He sighed.
“Well we found the other guys first,” he said. “One was just shot, nothing bad…”
“OK…” she said slowly.
“The other,” he sighed. “Well she’d damn near scratched his face off with her bare hands.”
She startled back from him.
“You didn’t think this was an important piece of information for us to know before we offered her a place to stay with us?” She asked. “Before you brought her into our community?”
“Guy deserved it,” Joel said. Maria narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Well, he did. Did you look at her at all? Got the shit beat out of her. Looked like she’d been tied up, someone fuckin’ branded her….”
“Jesus,” Maria shook her head. “Can’t say I looked too close, no. Too busy trying to keep her from taking off on me.”
“Sure the fuckers we found deserved it,” Joel said. “We won’t give her a reason to do that to us so we’ll be fine…”
He couldn’t be sure of that, of course. He didn’t know you, not really. But he felt like he did. Looking at you, it felt like he knew you.
“Well it’s a moot point,” she said after a moment. “She’s taking off as soon as she’s able, mark my words. She’s terrified of this place.”
Joel didn’t bother to respond. He knew what that felt like, coming into a place like this when you were used to something so different. It had been scary for him and he’d come here of his own volition. He’d known someone here.
You were different. Of course you were terrified.
Tommy and Maria left to go back home before he did and Joel sat there, watching for Ellie to come in with her friends. She usually did, about half way through dinner. If she came in the right door, he’d sometimes hear her laugh. That was worth sitting there for a bit. More than worth sitting there for a bit. That girl, her life, her happiness were worth a lot of things. He could justify damn near anything for her.
But Ellie came in the door further from where he was sitting that night and he didn’t hear her laugh. She saw him watching her and shot him a glare as she crossed the mess hall. A warning message, of sorts.
“I’ll go back, but we’re done.”
That’s what she’d said to him. She’d meant it. And that was OK. She was alive so he could live with that. But at least this way he got to see her. Even if it was just for a second. Even if she hated him through it.
He was gone before Ellie and her friends were looking for a place to sit.
It was cold out, without his coat. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked on his belt loops. Going home sounded lonely. Lonelier than usual. He didn’t want to go bother Tommy and Maria, they had enough going on with a toddler at home. Getting a drink at the Tipsy Bison sounded miserable.
There was one thing he felt like doing. It was just a bad idea. So Joel just walked for a bit, wandering aimlessly through the town, letting the cold bite at his exposed skin. But he kept finding himself back in front of the clinic, the light on in the front room.
It couldn’t hurt anything, right? Just… he could check. Just check.
Carol smiled when he opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking.
“I can take a look at that for you,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Just a squeaky door,” she said. “Nothing much to worry about fixing. Can I do something for you?”
“No,” he shook his head for a second, looking at the ground and cupping the back of his neck before he could bring himself to look her in the eye again. “I just… was hoping to check up on the woman I brought in. Make sure she’s alright. You know.”
She smiled a little wider and shook her head once.
“She’ll be fine,” she replied. “Just keeping her here tonight because she lost a lot of blood. But, as you know, she was up and about plenty today. She just needs to give herself a chance to heal before she tries to crawl out a window and take off on a horse again.”
Joel laughed once at that.
“Yeah, I’d say so,” he said.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you your coat back, though,” she said. Joel frowned. “She’s still wearing it. Wouldn’t let me take it. I think you might need to go find a new one, Mr. Miller. I don’t think she’s giving it up.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s fine she… she can keep it.”
He turned to leave before he stopped in the doorway.
“Don’t tell her I came by,” he said. “Don’t want to freak her out.”
“Sure,” she smiled a little. He nodded. “Have a good night, Joel.”
“You too.”
The night was still biting and cold but he felt a little better, walking home in it as he looked at the clinic window as he passed, the one he knew you were just on the other side of, wrapped in his coat because you didn’t want to give it back.
He was still warm when he got home.
Next Chapter
A/N: I'm so sorry this update has taken so long! I wanted to finish up Beskar Doll before I fully dedicated myself to Yearling and now I can settle into a comfortable writing space with this fic which I am so excited for.
Bambi has officially landed in Jackson and Joel has taken notice. I love that for him.
I'm also really enjoying this softer Joel compared to Lavender Joel. It's interesting to write the same character who is in such a different place in his emotional journey and I can't wait to explore both of them further! I hope you enjoy the ride as we do :)
I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added!
Thank you for reading! Love you!!
Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#joel miller fanfiction#yearling
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Hi Milo! would you please write Yandere Khal Drogo x pregnant wife reader? with smut? and that the reader loves it a little as if she had Stockholm syndrome? I am completely in love with my Khal :D thank you very much in advance :))
ps: i love your work it's just amazing <333
ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ, ᴀ ᴋʜᴀʟᴇꜱꜱɪ | ᴋ. ᴅʀᴏɢᴏ
yall are so nice omgg :}
this man has me on a chokehold literally
disclaimer: italics indicate dothraki language & female reader
warnings: yandere theme, dubcon sex, breeding kink, mentions of betrothal, possessiveness, noncon relationships, 18+ content.
One thing about this man right here, he doesn't care. Yes, your belly is swollen with one child. Never to late for another? He is a good fuck: its in his blood, his veins, his pride. You will never find another man like him to satisfy you. Your body will never fully be satisfied unless it is him.
However, Drogo is no fool though, he knew you were going to anything in your power to prevent the pregnancy: beg Viserys to kill you? It was such a good act, he must say. You had requested him to threaten you with the blade during the feast so maybe, just maybe: it could all be over with. But Drogo remained calm during the performance because he was well aware of your misery with him. He enjoyed it though, savored you until his heart content. He doesn't give a horse's ass if you don't like your new life. It is what was born for you to do, to breed.
You better pray because you never leave the tent nor lift a finger; the maidens of the tribe live to serve their khalessi. Drogo is the type of lover person to not feel sympathy to others no matter how bad the grief may be. Not really connected with his feelings, just his desires.
You stood up upon his arrival in the tent, no matter how weak or sore your body ache. You were trained to always greet the khal with exact and focus attention. He just walks in while throwing his weapon on the side of him and onto the floor. His dark eyes hadn't left your gaze. He approached you with his heavy footsteps, as his hands coated with one’s blood that was not his own, examining your facial features; observing to see that he had returned to you just had he left you: stable.
He had done this various times but it was a habit to see if anyone would harm the stallion that will mount the world. You were wearing an upper-waist dress with an floral palette and flowiness, the dress dropped to your ankles that hid your recently massaged feet. His hands were on your sore stomach and with a few rubs of gentleness from him: you inhale deeply due to the pain being at ease with his rubbing.
You open your eyes softly as his blood-coated hand print had been on the see-through dress. He cups your cheeks, bringing your face closer to his while examining you once again. He was worried to know if anyone had attacked you, his khalessi. You noticed this because you could see the worry on his stoic face: even if he managed to hide it so well. You grab his rough hand and gently caress his palm, despite the blood that was abusing your nostrils. Drogo noticed your gentleness to him, no matter how bad he treated you in your terms.
He leaned over to and kissed you, which you melted into because you were far to used to kissing Drogo. You had accepted Drogo, and his traditional and somewhat beneficial ways with you. You had no choice. His body weight increased as he was almost falling on you but he had placed you on the clothed rags that you both rested upon day and night. You push him away with all of your strength, feeling a bit more weaker by the second due to your sore belly weighing you down.
You were soon pushed down in a meer manner. You gently caresses your sore belly, Drogo noticed how your body couldn't handle his genetics obviously due to the pain you were enduring. You looked so full, so round. So very plumply. He was mentally smiling, it made him feel proud that your tiny body compared to his was so enjoyably weak. "May we just take this moon to rest?" You attempt to reason with him, you both were fucking non-stop every-night and you were already carrying one, you couldn't handle anymore right now. He shakes his head no. You already knew he was going to reply in that manner.
The traditional dothraki love language will forever be questioned and as much as you didn't feel like it: it was always coming. He had pushed you rather gently this time onto the horse fur and cotton rags that was used to make a makeshift bed. You flopped due to your strength decreasing each second with your stomach. He took the chance to lay himself next to you, as his clothes discarded with yours.
You give a sensual moan at the loss of discomfort your sore body had posses with the clothes that were tight around you. Drogo enjoyed you in clothes that were tightly on you, showing your curves but in your current state, he wanted everyone in his tribe to be well aware that you are already claimed for the stallions that will mount the world. It was usual for the dothraki to become possessive over their beloved, you were far to used to it though.
You allowed his large, calloused hands roam over your body, not even having a say in the first place to be in-fact. You were about to protest, hoping you can take this night to just relax and ease yourself but Drogo had no relief in a few cycles. The healer of the tribe, that is rarely around had told Drogo that sex could harm the baby's life especially your body compared to his size.
He was well aware that his girth was large and did expected the outcome of no sex but that couldn't stop him and his animalistic urges that refused to go away. Before he had walked into the tent, he had mentally prayed to the old wise great stallion to bless your growing child lives under its guidance and blessings.
Perhaps, he should consider what the healer said but his urges had been getting through his head. And he cannot blame them. You were in your glory, laying down with your legs closed together as you turned your body to the side to rest, but Drogo had grew impatient due to the slightest of movements had allowed his cock become erected with pre.
It wasn't him getting excited, he doesn’t believe in such a happy emotion. It was his soul reacting to yours. He had took the chance to come up behind you, laying you down in his grasp as your body still turned. He refuses for you to be on your stomach, even though that was the traditional way to give pleasure in the dothrakian heritage, taking you from behind. You hadn't noticed how his large hands were on your swollen belly as he pushed you gently onto the rags that made your bed.
You arched your back at the sudden pleasure you were receiving as Drogo’s hands moved down to your bare abdomen and soon your pussy. You squinted your eyes as you bit your lip in anticipation as his fingers played with the outer-lips of your bare pussy. You weren't able to look at him. He had laid you down on your side where your back had been facing him.
You quivered as his other calloused hand rubbed your sore, bare back. You whimpered softly while his lips connected to your neck yet again. You were looking down because your body had been so sore from his genetics. He took this opportunity to enter you. You shot up instantly with small pleas for mercy to his force. "Drogo, please! I am with child!" You say in hope for him to calm down as his thrusts increasingly become sloppy.
Drogo snicked indistinctly. You truly had been afraid, never hearing Drogo laugh, cry or lose his cool and upon your arrival to the horselords: you would always find them intimidating, but none as intimidating as Drogo.
His large hands meet your hips, gripping your flesh roughly before bringing your body closer onto his cock with a small grunt. You used your hands to support your body from falling down but the pain was enduring enough. You were moaning as the slaps of both fleshes continued. You closed your eyes; allowing Drogo to continue, he was bound to. Consent meant nothing to him, to his pride. His grunts and groans described the relief he had been feeling as he ached for more of your touch.
Your body was uncontrollably relaxing. You felt yourself reach for your peak. His large cock within you had been so very pleasureful that tears of overstimulation coated your heavy eyes as you saw stars. "Please, I-" You blurt out as your climax was approached swiftly. He leans himself down to your ear. "Do it." Drogo orders while he puts himself into your neck to decrease his echoing groans.
You leaned your head back, while he gave one last powerful thrust and it allowed you to release your building orgasm. Drogo had gritted his teeth furiously while his hot semen was unloaded again. You gasped heavily while a thin layer of sweat coated your aching body.
He leans down to you and kisses your forehead while pulling out. "Rest, my khalessi." Drogo coo's sweetly as he wipes away your tears with his large pointing finger. You nodded in agreement before turning your body to the side where your back had been facing him as his rough hands gently caress your sore belly while you drift to slumber.
Drogo noticed you fell asleep more quicker that usual. He was actually glad you went to sleep as a small smile crept up to the curve of hips as he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder before playing with your knuckles as his other hand continuously rubbed your aching yet growing belly. He knew he wasn’t the best husband but he was glad you were giving into your role as his khalessi.
His khalessi.
credz to @/tonystarksproperty
#game of thrones#khal drogo#khal drogo x reader#khal drogo imagine#khal drogo oneshot#khal drogo smut#yandere khal drogo#yandere khal drogo x reader#got x reader#got smut#got imagine#got khal drogo#jason momoa#jason momoa x reader#jason momoa imagine#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones smut#game of thrones imagine#yandere game of thrones#game of thrones khal drogo
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the end | stu macher x reader
summary: on the 30th anniversary of maureen prescott’s murder, stu comes back to kill one last time. what he doesn’t know is that his presumably dead girlfriend, and billy’s sister, will come back to end everything herself.
warnings: okayy, this one is a lot. so: murder, knives and guns, suicide, angst, swearing, lmk if there’s something i missed! it’s kinda shit tbh but i was thinking about this a lot bc i am a firm believer that stu’s alive!! also she/her pronouns used for reader.
it was september 28th, 2026. the 30 year anniversary of maureen prescott’s murder.
his forearm tightened around tara’s neck, holding the old knife to her throat. her sister stood in front of them, hands in the air with his gun pointing right at her. sidney watched the scene from the ground, cluthing onto the deep stab wound in her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. a tear slipped down her cheek, wishing a miracle would happen to finish all of this. by now, he had killed almost everyone in the building.
when he took the old, busted up mask off of his face, sidney almost fainted. she thought she was having a nightmare for a brief moment. moments later, his knife was deep in her stomach and he was looking directly into her eyes.
his goal was to have only two survivors, samantha carpenter and himself. i mean, he could never kill her, he would hate himself forever. the only thing that didn’t go to plan was the fact that he didn’t commit all of the murders, and he didn’t know who did. he couldn’t say he wasn’t freaked out by that, but he hadn’t given it much thought. he was focused on his goal, to finish what had started in 1995.
he was about to push the knife into the squirming girl’s skin when a gunshot was heard in the distance. he knew somebody would come barging in soon. so he proceeded with what he was about to do.
his knife cut her throat in one swift motion. he pushed her to the ground and watched as her life left her body, listening to the loud screams her sister and sidney let out.
he smiled to himself, “you’ve still got it, stu.”
sam tried to come to tara’s side, but he shot her in the leg before she could move. she screamed in agony. the whole building was echoing with cries of the young woman.
sidney was slowly losing consciousness, cursing herself for not hugging her kids tighter when she left.
but then, another gunshot was fired.
except this one was fired right into the wall next to his head.
he raised his gun at the new person in the room. they wore the same black coat he did, and had an equally beat up mask on their face.
“take the fucking mask off you piece of shit! you think you can come barging in here and ruin everything for me?!”, he yelled.
“stu, stu, stu…why so angry? i always thought billy was the hot-headed one…guess i was wrong”, the person spoke through a voice changer.
“i mean, there’s no need to insult me…i helped you kill those people after all.”
“so you’re the dick that jumped in on my shit. this was supposed to end with me you fuck! i don’t need some random kids ruining my plans!”
“i’m not just some random kid, stu. and it will end with you, don’t worry.”, they said before reaching up for their mask.
the mask fell to the ground, and stu macher’s face fell in shock. he lowered the gun and just stared at the person in front of him.
“have you missed me?”
the voice of y/n loomis echoed through the room. stu let a tear fall down his scarred face, quickly wiping it away.
sidney was out cold on the floor, leaving only sam. y/n’s eyes flickered to sidney, noticing she was breathing. she smiled, glad sidney was going to be alright.
“you’re samantha. it’s good to finally meet you.”
sam stared at her, barely processing what the hell is going on. didn’t y/n loomis die in 1996?
stu walked over to y/n, her gun pointing at him.
“put the gun down, y/n.”, he said in a soft voice. she missed his voice so much.
she looked at him through her eyelashes, slowly lowering the gun. he cupped her face with tears in his eyes and kissed her, rubbing his thumb on her chin. she kissed him back, placing her hand on his scarred cheek. she ran her fingertips over the old cuts, her mind taking her back to the night of horror he and her brother caused.
she pulled away and he pressed his forehead against her’s.
“i thought we killed you. i couldn’t forgive myself for thirty years.”, he spoke in a hoarse voice.
she gave him a small smile before pushing him away, leaving the man with a puzzled look on his face. she raised her gun again, pointing at him, and walked over to sam.
“sam, i am so sorry you’re a part of this messed up bloodline. and i hope you can find peace after all of this is over.”, she spoke softly, looking at her niece from above. she was holding her sister’s hand, sobbing quietly to herself. she watched her aunt with a dazed look, barely nodding at her words.
“y/n, what are you doing?”
“it’s about time this ended, don’t you think, stu?”, she turned to look at him, tears forming in her own eyes. they were glossed with fear, but at the same time certainty. she knew this had to be done.
“isn’t that why you joined in? i’m going to kill this bitch and then it’s over. you and i leave. together.”, he said pointing his knife at sidney.
y/n looked at the floor and smiled to herself weakly. he was always such a lapdog to her brother. always doing whatever billy wanted.
“you know, stu, billy’s dead. you no longer have to go along with everything he says and wants.”
“i’m doing this for myself. you killed people, y/n. i know you want to finish this off.”
“i do. but i only killed people who deserved it. and i am going to finish this off.”, she pointed the gun directly at his head, biting her lip to stop a sob from coming out of her.
his eyes widened with realisation. he moved towards her but stopped once he realised she was serious.
“y/n don’t be stupid..you can’t kill me. you won’t be able to live with yourself.”, he uttered in a broken voice.
“you’re right. i won’t be.”, she stuttered, finally letting the tears fall from her eyes.
“no…y/n. please don’t do this. i have to finish what we started.”, he pleaded.
“stu, this will only continue to happen if you’re alive. this should’ve stopped with you and billy dead in 1996. and as much as i would love to run off and spend my life with you…i know that that’s not how it’s supposed to be.”, she said, sobbing.
she loved stu. for all of these years she spent in hiding, a part of her wished that her brother’s knife had killed her that day. she always knew he intended for her to live, to escape, but when she realised that her brother and her boyfriend were behind the horrors of woodsboro, she wanted to be in the ground with them both. she hated herself for carrying the loomis name, and she hated herself for loving a macher.
stu’s baby blues found her’s with a sad look. he also knew this had to be done, deep inside of him. but he was crazy after all. he didn’t care what was right. the gun from his hand fell to the ground in defeat, and so did the knife from his other hand. he walked closer to y/n. he wanted to see her face. he wanted that to be the last face he saw before his death. she was the only person besides billy who ever made him happy, who gave him a purpose. and all of these years he was planning how he was going to end this and bury himself in his own sorrow and despair. he couldn’t live without her. but the world couldn’t live with him.
so he let a small smile creep onto his lips in defeat.
“i love you y/n. i’ll always love you.”
“i love you too stu.”, she muttered. her face was red and her eyes were puffy.
she screamed loudly before shooting. the cries that left her were like nothing you’ve ever heard. she fell to her knees and crawled to his lifeless body, cupping his cheek and burrowing her head into his neck, letting out loud sobs.
“i’m so sorry stu. i’m so sorry.”,she cried.
sam watched from behind, barely comprehending what she just saw. she didn’t know wether to feel sorry for y/n, or happy that she killed him. her hand was wrapped around tara’s, wishing that y/n would’ve came in the room minutes earlier.
y/n turned her head to look at sam.
“take sidney and leave.”, she whispered.
sam stared at her in disbelief, “i can’t just leave my sister here!”
y/n turned fully and pointed her gun at the girl.
“i said, take sidney and leave. now.”
sam shook her head with tears in her eyes and got up. the pain in her leg was sharp, but she managed to go to sidney and drag her up. she looked at her aunt one last time and nodded before leaving as fast as she could.
once sam was gone, y/n was left alone with stu. she hated herself for what she just did. but she knew that her niece would be safe now that he’s gone. but she wasn’t finished yet.
she placed a soft kiss on stu’s lips before hugging him one last time.
“see you in hell.”, she thought to herself before bringing the weapon up to her head and finishing what her brother had started.
everything was finally peaceful. and it will be peaceful for eternity.
//notes//
THIS IS SO BAD LMFAOO but i’ll get better i promise🙏🙏it was a good idea just shit execution…if you guys want like one shots or a story from when they were teens lmk i’d love to write that!! okay byeee thanks for reading this trash!!🫶🏻🪼
#Spotify#stu macher x reader#writing#stu macher#scream#fanfic#fan fiction#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis#scream x reader#stu macher fluff#stu macher x y/n#stu macher x you#angst#ihatemyself#scream 1996#writerscommunity
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Ghostface Natalie!!!
Angsty, cause I can't think of to much fluff rn:
1. She ends up stabbing R (reader) instead of the victim. And immediately crumbles grabbing onto them and falling to the floor sobbing she removes her mask begging for help from the others but their all to scared of her, as she panics trying to stop the bleeding. I don't like R death but just having Nat panic and feel bad is ❤️
2. Since people like sister Nat from you (with your beautiful writing!) Let me get this out of the way, she's like Sam Carpenter. Older, half sister. Her dad was a killer before her and she just lost it and started killing. But one night at a costume party, she's dragging some asshole of a dude away in the crowd of drunk teens with loud music. And just after she stabs him, right in front of everyone but no one seems to notice, the guy pulls her mask off, she looks up only to see her little sister caught her. (Gonna be an awkward discussion at home ngl 🏃) can also be like non sister, I just know people like her as such.
3. Natalie was staying in your room, she always had to sneak in through the window. She left her lover R, to go with her partner in crime (you pick) to "take care of something" anyway long story short she ends up stumbling and falling through your window on her way back, she was stabbed. Her mask in hand the only person she could think to seek refuge with was her girlfriend/partner/lover, but now you have to face the fact not only is she bleeding on perfectly good carpet, but she's killed people. Your friend's (mostly assholes let's be honest) but you don't want her to die.
Also could I ask for an emoji? To just sign with? I think I'm gonna end up sending a lot of things 😭 (if that's ok!) I love your writing!
A/N: OMG I WANNA WRITE EVERY SINGLE ONE (AND I WILL MAYBE 🤭), but I think I'm gonna start with your first idea!! Actually now that I think about it I might create a little section just for ghostface!au requests. And you can totally have an emoji!!! Just let me know what you picked! <3
Not proofreaddddd
MASTERLIST
Scream
"Natalie!" You happily squealed as soon as you saw your girlfriend walking into the room.
You were at Jackie's house for a sleepover with the whole team and a couple of mutual friends.
Natalie smiled, dropping a heavy backpack on the floor and instantly opening her arms for you "Hi baby" she mumbled while kissing the top of your head. You and the girls planned a fun and quiet night, but what you didn't know was that you currently stood in the arms of the mysterious cold blood murder Ghostface, and you also didn't know that one of Jackie's friends, Matt had a reputation to be a bit of a fuck boy.
And Nat couldn't stand him.
So as soon as everybody arrived at the party, she started targeting him from far away, monitoring his moves.
"Nat! Nat! Stop! Don't tickle me!" You said in between laughs, the two of you were cuddling on the couch "Okay okay I'll stop babe, actually, I forgot to tell you I need to go home earlier" Natalie said with an apologetic look "My mom...I need to check on her" she knew that you were very empathetic of her family situation, and she also knew that if she pulled that card you would let her leave without further questions.
That leads us to this moment, Nat changing outside of the house, from her grungy clothes to black coat and mask in hand along with a sharp knife.
Sneaking back inside, she could hear all of you messing around in the living room, a movie playing combined with soft music.
Nat peeped from the almost closed door, you sat near Lottie and Matt "Pretty" she thought when you smiled at one of Van's jokes "focus nat".
The lights were dimmed and you were distracted, so it was easy for her to sneak in and hide behind the bookshelf.
That's when she decided to attack.
Revealing herself, all the people in the room started screaming and running as far as they could, the adrenaline pumped in Nat's veins, and then she stabbed.
But in the chaos she didn't realize who she stabbed.
At least not until she heard you scream, scream like you never screamed before, it wasn't fear, it was gut wrenching pain.
Your body fell on the floor, blood, lots of blood splashed everywhere and Natalie's eyes widened
"no no no" she mumbled in panic while getting closer causing you to scream more, at that she instantly took off her mask "No no no baby it's me, it's just me I didn't mean to... I...let me help please, please baby..."
At that you could believe your eyes, your beautiful, kind and loving girl was ghostface? Like THE ghostface, a murderer!?
And just like you, everyone in the room was shocked, so when Nat asked, or more like begged them to help her they all just stared at her paralyzed.
You were so weak and the blood wasn't stopping, she cradled you in her arms for a while, until you passed out, and she cried and cried terrified that she just lost you forever.
You woke up in a hospital bed, beeping of machines and the smell of sanitizer lingered in the air, your mind was blurry and the memories of the night scattered in your head, but you did remember one single thing clearly
Natalie was the ghostface.
And you didn't know where she was now, if she was arrested or if she ran away, either way, you stared at the white ceiling, thinking of everything that happened and everything that changed in the moment ghostface pointed her knife at you.
#natalie scatorccio#yellowjackets#natalie scatorccio x reader#nat scatorccio#nat scatorccio x reader#nat scatorccio x#natalie scatorccio x y/n#yellowjackets x reader#yellowjackets x you#writers on tumblr
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i would love to place an order for Meringue Cookies, Dark Chocolate, Jelly Beans, Candy Necklace, & Blan Manje, with Caramel & Honey. Side menu # 1 for Boa or Nami. either is fine! with a g/n reader! These stories are a blast to read!
anon i am so so sry this took forever 😭💕💕💕 but i finally finished and i'm actually happy with it; also ty for requesting, i love boa hancock sfm i wish more ppl wrote for her.
4.3k words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst angst angst bc that's how i vibe & smut, and if you squint real hard there's some fluff somehow i think. hancock is a brat as usual and reader ain't shit, but they go great together <3 feat. cute things like oral (f receiving), fingering, a lil bondage, hair pulling, some pussy slapping, more stuff that idr anymore ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა
(if u see grammar/spelling errors no u didn't ;_;)
tagging lil’ kaia bc she asked so nicely ❤︎ @cvvor
“our love would be death” — anaïs nin
sea salt sifts through the wind, warm and fine enough that most don’t notice its intrusion. it lands on your nose and lips, coats your tongue when you exhale through your mouth; no matter how many times you try to wash away the taste, it still lingers. a persistent annoyance that refuses to leave you alone. it’s a bitter, yet familiar taste — one that fills your heart with memories you’ve long wanted to keep buried. you’re no stranger to heartache, but this is different.
you find that you can never sleep through the entire night without dreaming of your ex — of how you begged them to stay, of how you told them you couldn’t live without them. pathetic, you tell yourself one morning after another restless night — you know you need to find a way to move on, but there’s no way you can, not when you carved so many pieces of yourself to give away without much thought.
what you’re left with is a battered heart that can barely function on its own; it flops pitifully in your chest, rattling against your rib cage weakly. every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to face the truth that you’re all alone — again.
boa hancock doesn’t know why she even fucking bothers, but she can’t seem to stay away from you. it’s a privilege, in her opinion, for you to be graced with her presence, let alone be allowed to touch her intimately. so, when she finds you staring wistfully out of the window, sighing to yourself again she snaps.
“y/n, look at me,” she commands loudly, voice piercing through your body like a thick arrow that keeps you frozen in place. you know better than to disobey her, even though you want to; you know you’re being unreasonable, but the heart always wants what it can’t have, right?
not that she cares about any of that. in her mind, your ex is an ex for a reason. she grabs your face with her hand, squeezing tightly, delicate brows furrowed together as irritation drips down her spine. she could easily kill you and you know it. “i’m the most beautiful woman in the world,” she boasts, although there’s something melancholic about the way she says it.
you narrow your eyes at her, mouth moving before you can think better of it. “and what of it?” it’s not often that you challenge her like that, but today you’ve had enough of her games, of constantly catering to her whims and desires, of her veneer that she insists on keeping even when she’s alone with you.
it dawns on her then what the actual problem is. “you’re still in love with them.” anger seeps through her pores, and she knows if she doesn’t walk away soon, she might say or do something she’ll possibly regret.
you flinch, eyes widening — she’s not entirely wrong, but she’s not right either. you’re just stuck in limbo, unable to move on because you refuse to do so; after seeing them so happy with someone else, you can’t fathom finding any sort of happiness yourself. so, you cling onto the past, even when it threatens to destroy your present life.
for some reason, this pisses you off — that hancock is so much more perceptive than people give her credit for; that she’s not afraid to tell you the truth, despite how your friends sugarcoat everything for you. the rage that’s bubbled deep inside of you for months finally pushes out; you can barely think or see properly, and you forget yourself when you practically shout back at her.
“and you’re just jealous because for once, you’re not the focus of my attention.” you’re not sure why you say it, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you feel like shit.
there’s rarely a moment where hancock finds herself in absolute shock, but your venomous words cut into her bruised ego with vigor. it's a harsh reality that she refuses to accept, so she lashes out at you again.
“you’re pathetic.” her tone is cold, and she steels her face enough that she almost looks bored with you. hancock releases her hold on you and swivels on her heels to walk away. you don’t bother calling after her, but she pauses in her gait to look over her shoulder at you. “i’m done playing with you, get out of my sight.”
the dismissal is the first slap of many and her insistence on blatantly keeping her back turned while she ignores you is another. something in you breaks, but you know you’ve angered the pirate empress enough for one day. you don’t hesitate before scrambling to your feet and leaving her alone. after you close the door, you hear a shriek that’s accompanied by what sounds like a large vase shattering. you don’t bother checking on her, because you know you’re not wanted in her presence right now.
you should’ve seen this coming. one doesn’t simply think about another lover while in the presence of boa hancock; it’s absurd and theatrical, but it’s an unspoken rule that you keep breaking over and over. in the back of your mind, you know you should go make things right with her, but you just don’t know how.
hancock’s frustration continues to build throughout the day. she doesn’t know why someone — you, a commoner who should be groveling at her feet daily — can be so insolent without remorse. she’s smashed several expensive sculptures, shredded her mattress and bed sheets with large scissors, and cursed out every staff member in kuja palace. her anger only intensifies when she hears someone whisper your name, so she locks herself in her bedroom, refusing meals or assistance from anyone.
you’ve always thought that the pirate empress was annoying, self-centered, and unnecessarily mean without reason. you’ve told her this on several occasions, stunning her into silence — a feat that most cannot achieve. hancock would normally sentence someone to death for those sorts of callous remarks, but for some reason she spares you. maybe it’s because despite her incomparable, unrivaled beauty, you don’t helplessly pine after her.
and she absolutely hates that about you.
hancock’s not someone who’s used to being treated like a regular person, and yet that’s what you do to her. you barely hold any reverence for her, give her the minimal amount of respect owed as a citizen of amazon lily, and you don’t flinch when she threatens you publicly. most are afraid to be associated with you, out of fear for incurring the snake princess’ wrath — not that you care, you’ve known that your personality can’t be tolerated by most because you tend to happily go against the grain.
you’ve always found her beauty to be intense and intoxicating — imposing like the sun, forcing a heat to surge through you that has yet to dissipate. you hate that your attraction to her impedes your daily life, especially when you’re plagued by dueling thoughts of her and your ex. you’re barred from entering the palace, and you’re thankful for it as you don’t know how you’d be able to face hancock after all that you’ve said. you know that you should apologize profusely, but a woman like hancock requires something extravagant and elaborate — something that’ll prove that your adoration and loyalty is genuine and not forced.
the first few days are relatively easy; you work tirelessly to keep your mind and body busy, and you��re so exhausted by the end of the day that you sleep without dreaming. when a week passes, you start to notice that certain things are off; you didn’t make it a habit of frequenting the palace that often, but you were there enough that the staff didn’t give you a hard time when you showed up unannounced. you tell yourself that distance is good — it means you’ll be able to finally focus on the things that are important to you.
but, when you sit and think about it, you’re not quite sure if that’s entirely true.
after the second week, you start getting antsy. your friends keep pestering you, asking why your mood keeps shifting day to day — you’re intolerable and grouchy, snap at minor things and make mistakes all day. your heart, as tired and as worn out as it is, still skips a beat when you think about hancock despite what you try to tell yourself when you’re alone. somehow, you’ve convinced yourself that the only reason why you’re thinking about her, is because you miss fucking her.
the lie is tough to digest, but you keep repeating it and sooner or later you’ll believe it, right?
soon, everything reminds you of her.
on a warm night, a small festival is held, and you wander around listless and slightly tipsy. memories of the first time you met boa hancock — outside of all the fanfare that her royal title awards her — plague you relentlessly. you remember the warmth from that night, similar to this one; you remember how highly oppressive and unbearable the humidity was; and you also remember that you were on your third drink when you unceremoniously bumped into the pirate empress.
at first, her sisters demanded you apologize, but you were annoyed and had just been dumped so you chose audacity instead.
hancock’s irritation was evident, despite her not saying much — and it wasn’t until your rambling struck a nerve that she fired back. it was the first time he’d let her walls down, and her sisters watched in shock as both of you went back and forth over nothing. hancock called you all sorts of terrible names, and you sneered and laughed in her face. the fact that you weren’t cowering in fear or salivating over her beauty set her skin on fire in a way she didn’t understand.
you remember her dismissing the other gorgon sisters, insisting that she’d be able to handle you on her own. and she did, in a way. if anyone were to ask her about that time, hancock would easily admit that she regrets meeting you that night — but it would be a lie. the only thing she regrets is allowing you to infiltrate her heart, to settle without permission, to make her feel less than when she knew she was anything but.
her brattiness is unappealing on the surface and you normally wouldn’t be attracted to a woman who boldly wears such an ugly personality with pride. somehow, hancock has made the trait endearing to you, in a strange way; she’s so unapologetic with her behavior, that you find it rather comical. why people take her seriously is beyond you.
but, despite all of that, you do miss her.
you miss seeing the way her nose would scrunch and wrinkle when she was disgusted with something insignificant and minute; you miss kissing her in the middle of arguments and watching her easily melt underneath your touch; but you mostly miss hearing her complain about your lack of etiquette, about how odd she finds your views on the world, and about how you see her more clearly than anyone else on the island.
that sort of vulnerability terrifies her, and it’s why she’s been so miserable without you.
her sisters pay you a visit one morning and implore you to talk some sense into hancock. they tell you about how her temper tantrums have gotten uncontrollable (even for them) and how she barely eats or bothers leaving the palace these days. that bit surprises you, as hancock thrives off the validation from the populace. at first you mean to refuse them, but when you take note of how marigold anxiously fidgets with the gold bracelet around her wrist and the way sandersonia has dark circles under her eyes, you give in.
after taking a long, long soak in the bath, hancock pads back to her room naked, deciding to keep the windows open so she can air dry properly. you find her shortly after, out of breath from running over to the palace; she didn’t lock her door — and why should she? she’s the empress, after all — so you enter her room with ease. because she’s been so out of it lately, she’s been sluggish in her reactions to certain things; especially since she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.
with the door shut and locked behind you, hancock’s mind clears a bit; she blinks slowly, her dark eyes honed on you, taking in your thick thighs and toned body. as usual, hancock’s face only features an impassive expression, and she keeps her tone flat when she addresses you.
“why the hell are you in my bedroom?” she grabs the silk robe that’s draped over her mattress and puts it on in a rush.
before you can answer her or move closer, she picks up a large pillow and chucks it at you in the hopes that you’ll get the hint and leave her alone. you sidestep the attack, lips pressed together as you hold back a laugh; she can’t honestly think that a pillow will stop you, can she? hancock keeps throwing things, anything within her reach that isn’t nailed down to the floor or wall. you try to reason with her, try to make your way closer, but stop when you see the way her lips quiver.
she keeps fumbling with tying her robe properly, keeps looking down at her trembling fingers — the same ones that have tugged on your hair more times than you can count — but still she won’t say anything else to you.
after a minute, hancock manages to compose herself once again, her lips pressed tightly together as she fights the urge to berate herself for looking weak in front of you — as if you care about any of that. your silence compels her to swiftly make her way towards you, long legs shimmering in the sunlight, captivating you so much that you forget you’re supposed to be angry with her.
“look at you,” she stands tall, her pride giving her the confidence she needs to verbally tear you apart. “you’ve come begging for my forgiveness, right?” she doesn’t wait for you to respond and simply flips her hair over her shoulder before continuing. it’s all she can do to keep her composure around you; she knows if she gives you even a fraction of an inch, you’ll take a whole damn mile. “i should have you gutted for entering the palace without permission. you should know your damn place.” while her words are harsh, her delivery doesn’t quite match the expression on her face. maybe it’s because you haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you entered her room; or, maybe it’s because she’s standing much closer than necessary but can’t physically move herself away.
did you cast a spell on her without her knowledge?
while her eyes do narrow at that possibility, she highly doubts that you could, as there’s no one on amazon lily that doesn’t succumb to her treacherous beauty. but you continue to defy her expectations and you never know when to quit. which is why she just wants to grab you by the neck and toss you out the window; maybe if she actually kills you this time, she’ll be done with you forever.
except, she could never bring herself to harm you — not really. so she continues with her rant, reminding you that you’re beneath her, that you should be happy someone like her gave you any attention at all, but the more she talks, the more you want her to just shut the hell up.
“you’re right,” you say, cutting her off without remorse or any regards for your own safety, “and i deserve all of that,” and possibly more, but you don’t add that bit in. it becomes a little difficult to focus, what with hancock watching you with a different kind of intensity than you’re used to. “i… should’ve just explained myself properly before. but, more importantly,” you decide to take a risk and gently grab her by the hips.
silence wraps around her, blending into her thoughts, warping her perception of everything that’s happening. your hand is warm — much too warm, hot almost; she can feel the heat through the flimsy fabric as she presses her body closer to yours. whatever it is you want to tell her doesn’t matter — maybe she’ll pester you about it all later, but right now all she wants is you.
so, you give in and allow yourself to be more selfish than usual.
when your lips brush against hers, she completely comes alive — the longing you both felt for weeks, the irritation and unsaid words, they all prompt her to wrap her arms around your neck. it’s something short of a loving embrace, but you know better. your kiss goes from slow and tender to something much more fevered and enthusiastic; her lips are soft and supple, wholly inviting and terribly mesmerizing. you back her against the wall as she threads her fingers through your hair, tugging on it roughly, her patience practically nonexistent from all her wanting. you laugh at her in between kisses, breath warm against her skin — a feat that simultaneously annoys and arouses her — and remind her to play nice.
when she tugs on your hair again, you bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but run your tongue along the miniature wound to soothe the sting. she inhales sharply, the pain not noticeable, but the way you suck on her lip makes her head spin while also leaving her breathless.
a woman like hancock doesn’t beg, but when you grab her ass roughly — aggressive, yet completely undoing — she lets out a whimper so pathetic she’s almost ashamed of herself.
she should slap you, but all she does is roll her hips forward once you spread her legs and run your fingers against her folds. in a fit of desperation, to excuse her reactions, she tells herself that it’s because she hasn’t been touched in so long — but deep down she knows the truth; she knows it’s because there’s no one else she’d rather have here with her, and that is a terrifying revelation. still, she’s very receptive to your touch, her back arching as soon as you spread her with your fingers.
her arousal drips down slowly, and while you’d love to take your time with her, you also know that if you don’t hurry up you might actually lose your mind. you trail kisses down the length of her neck, and hancock presses her lips together to keep from making any more embarrassing noises. it’s ridiculous the way her body can easily be commanded by you without much effort; she wants to hate you for leading her down this path, but she can’t ever bring herself to do so.
love makes people incredibly foolish and tender indeed.
“that won’t do,” you remark lightly, gliding your fingers back and forth, barely grazing her clit. her breathing stops momentarily when you open her robe completely and drop to your knees in front of her. “why are you holding back?” you don’t ask her because you actually want the answer; you ask because you know it’ll annoy her greatly.
you tease her entrance with your fingers and a shiver fires through her entire body; with her lips parted, you strain your ears a bit, but you hear through her all of her light panting, her softly saying please, please, please. she’s trying so hard to hold it together, and you commend her for her efforts by inching your fingers inside of her slowly. hancock’s façade finally shatters, and you hear her moan audibly as you plunge your fingers in and out of her pussy. you love the way she clenches around your fingers — warm and tight, soft in a way that just doesn’t make sense to you — and the way she moves her hips once your tongue playfully swirls around her clit.
you drape her long, shapely leg over your shoulder and scissor your fingers inside of her pussy; you hum against her skin, thoroughly enjoying the way her chest heaves and how she can’t seem to stop moaning your name.
if only she was always this compliant.
a heat passes through your body as her nails rake against your scalp, and if you weren’t so hellbent keeping her steady, she’d probably fall over by now. you eat her pussy with vigor, swapping your fingers for your tongue; you thrust it inside without remorse, and she quickly becomes a whimpering mess as she chants “yes, yes, yes.” you mean to tell her to keep it down, but a part of you also enjoys it when she lets go and gives into her desires. you don’t want to get caught, but the thrill of it incites you to lap at her pussy — greedy and eager, as if it’s the most savory meal you’ve ever had. her wetness drips down your chin, glistening along your lips but you don’t stop.
she watches you in a trance, unsure if she’ll ever be able to let you go after this. possessive by nature, hancock never thought she’d find herself in this sort of position, but there she is, completely under your spell. every swipe of your tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge — a dangerous dance that she does without thinking. she brings her free hand to cup and knead one of her breasts — hefty and round, moaning repeatedly, voice already straining as she shamelessly rides your face.
you love it, though and when you suck on her clit roughly, lightning wraps around her veins, time slowing down around her, causing her vision to blur. she’s so wound up, that the orgasm takes her completely by surprise — her hips buck wildly and you hold her firmly as you work your fingers back into her pussy. you pull away just to give her a haughty look — one that she catches by accident through her tear-stained lashes — voice low and husky as you continue teasing her. “you’re doing so good,” you lick her clit hard enough to have her eyes roll back, “do you trust me?”
it's not fair of you to ask her genuine questions right now, but you need to know.
hancock swallows hard, unable to think properly, but answers without hesitation: “y-yes.”
her voice is sweet, much more demure than you’re used to; your heart suddenly feels much too big for your chest, the beats growing louder and thunderous; a dangerous combination when coupled with your cowardice. but you know better than to cower away, so you muster the courage to quietly respond with, “good, i’m glad.”
you���re not sure why you ask her that, but you keep thinking about it when you have her naked on her bed with her hands bound above her. thanks to you, her normally blemish-free skin is littered with bite marks and dark red bruises — small and harmless, but you do feel a sliver of remorse when you realize she’ll have to cover herself up for a bit when she’s outside of the palace. you tell her she’s a masterpiece worthy of exhibition, and she tells you that you’re insolent for stating the obvious.
she’s so beautiful and vulnerable in this position — flushed cheeks, tears in her eyes, legs shaking as they’re spread wide for you; her pussy is swollen after you slapped it a few times when she gave you lip a few minutes ago. out of habit, hancock wants to run her mouth again when you hover over her, but her words never come out. she looks up at you, silently wondering why you keep coming back to her. the melancholy that accompanies those thoughts is heavy enough to make her want to cry, so she ignores it. she wraps her legs around you as you rock your hips against hers, cunt still dripping — eager and inviting.
fucking hancock is like being trapped in a feverish dream, one where you fall over and over, unable to predict if you’ll survive in the end. it’s an unending maelstrom — powerful and unpredictable, wild, and all-consuming. sweat pools at your temples, but you don’t slow down until you wrench another orgasm out of her. her voice grows hoarse, and she claws at your chest; you lick the tears off her cheeks and kiss her in a way that deludes her into thinking that she’s your one and only.
when you finally cum, it’s with her name on your lips. your hips stutter and your breath is uneven — for you, your pleasure comes mostly from watching her unravel underneath you. hancock never lets you stay over, but she’s surprisingly soft with you afterwards, even letting you run your fingers through her silky, ink-black hair.
the intimacy scares both of you, but you can’t stop yourself from touching her like that. and even though you’re both sticky and sweaty, skin burning in a way that doesn’t make sense, you still stay close to one another.
she opens her mouth several times, the compulsion to curse you out for driving her mad grows weaker as time passes. she watches you fall asleep and she admires your features without restraint. she refuses to tell you that you’re much more attractive than she’d like you to be; she’d rather you be hideous with a shitty personality, but that’s not the case, is it? she’s hopelessly enamored with you, and you with her.
nothing will ever be perfect between the two of you, but you don’t need perfection or superficiality — not with her; you like dealing with the true, raw version of herself. there will be a moment — not now, but in the near future — where you’ll be brave enough to finish your confession; but for now, you keep it to yourself, tucked safely away in your heart, and enjoy the way your limbs are tangled with hers.
#*cries softly*#i am finished!!! finally#fic request#500+ followers event#milestone event#🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭#one piece smut#one piece angst#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#boa hancock#boa hancock x reader#boa hancock x y/n#boa hancock smut#hancock x reader#hancock x y/n#one piece imagine
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“i told u to leave” and “why are u still here” for quinn hughes? thank u sm! and i love your work btw ❤️❤️
Leave
Angst: "I Told You to Leave" & "Why Are You Still Here" w/ Quinn Hughes
This one is a bit long!!
Quinn was on his way back home quickly from a meeting with his coach, and I was already ready. We had the Annual Dice & Ice Gala to attend, so I set up his suit nicely on the bed ready for him to put on.Quinn should be here soon so I put my pea coat on as Quinn entered through the front door of our apartment. “Your suit is on the bed!” I yell out behind him as he runs down the hall to the room to get changed quickly. After trying about 4 different heels on to see which one is the comfiest but nice fashionable before deciding on just black pumps.
Quinn comes from down the hall quickly planting a kiss on my cheek, “Thanks babe, ready to go?” he says bending down to tie his shoe. I open the door and he grabs it behind me, opening it wider before making our way down to the apartments parking garage together.
When we get there Quinn opens his door and makes his way over to open mine as well. He grabs my hand to help me hop out and then hands his keys to the valet. We walk in hand and hand until we round the corner to the event’s lobby. He shrugs his hand away as we enter the room. I follow behind as Quinn makes his way to the coat check. We hand our coats before turning towards the event's doors. I reach out to grab Quinn’s hand and he shrugs my hand away again. I then just walk beside Quinn into the event.
Since we got to the event I Quinn had given me a bad taste in my mouth, so I started to notice all the little things throughout the event. When introducing me he would say “this is Y/n” and that’s it. Meanwhile the rest like of the team like Brock would say “This is my girlfriend, Bella” to introduce their girlfriends. I felt like trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe all night because I was just following him around, he wouldn’t even talk to me.
When we were sitting at a table getting ready to watch whatever they had the rookies doing this year, investors and partners would ask questions about me, and Quinn would answer before I could say anything. As the night went on Quinn only made me feel less and lesser about myself. My breaking point was when he leaned over to whisper in my ear, “Would it kill you to smile?”.
I felt a tear sting my eye. I gently pushed my chair behind me excusing myself from the table bringing my clutch bag with me. I headed to coat check to grab my coat, and ordered an uber.
When I got back to my and Quinn’s shared apartment. I kicked my shoes off at the door and I hear my phone ding. I see Quinn’s name on my phone. I turn the screen off then receive another text a couple minutes later from Quinn. I turn to the room and get ready for bed then return to the kitchen for a glass of wine. I pour some wine as the dings on my phone continues. ‘Maybe it’s time he feels stupid’ I thought to myself.
I pour myself another glass as the door swings open and slams behind immediately scaring me as the apartment shakes. Quinn turns into the kitchen and slams his fist on the island, making me jump. “What the fuck was that?!” Quinn says
“I left” I said
“No fucking shit” Quinn starts, “You left me there by myself! You fucking embarrassed me infront of all of those people!” he yells
“Oh my God Quinn. Why would I stay? You didn’t make it very comfortable for me”
“Because your my girlfrie-”
“GIRLFRIEND?! OH NOW I’m your girlfriend?!” I say throwing my hands in the air chuckling at the end. “I thought I was just ‘Y/n’, You sat their and listened to how everyone introduced their girlfriends ‘this is my girlfriend, Bella’, ‘this is my wife, Lexi”, oh then there’s ‘this is y/n’.” I snapped reaching for my glass of wine taking a large gulp.
“YOU ARE SO FULL OF YOURSELF! Did you just hear yourself? You left because I didn’t introduce you as my girlfriend?!” Quinn shouts
“No! Well Yes! That is just one of many reasons!” I defend myself. Quinn takes a seat on one of the island chairs and looks at me.
“Well continue. What made me such a terrible boyfriend that you had to leave me at one of the biggest team outings of the year?” He says
“You want me to list them off? Well one you wouldn’t even hold my hand, two, -”
“Oh shut the fuck up! All of your problems just sounds like you think I should be showing you off like your hot shit! He yells standing back up so hard the chair falls to the floor, walking towards me before getting inches to my face. “Well guess what, maybe you are as hot as you think you are” he says maliciously.
“Fuck you!” I say pushing him away and opening the bottle of wine to pour more so I can bring it to bed. As I tip the bottle to the glass I look at Quinn and say “You aren’t as great as you think either” calmly. Quinn rips the bottle of wine out of my hand and throws it at the wall. The wine bottle crashed leaving a big red mess all over the kitchen.
I look at the wall at the mess in shock, then turn to Quinn to see a soften face. Still in shock, I look at Quinn and say, “Get out” lightly. Quinn just watches me as I grab the paper towel and rush to clean the white kitchen. Frantically scrubbing the walls that stained quickly red as tears I said to myself wouldn’t fall, fell. As I was scrubbing I lost my balance landing in some of the glass, “Fuck!” I yelp. Before turning, sliding myself against the cupboards bringing my knees into my chest. Quinn then decides to grab a clothe a wet it bringing it to my hands
“You’re bleeding! Here get up, We will run it under the water.” He says. I get up and look at him with disgust.
“What the fuck?!” I start, “I told you to leave” I say quickly leaving to the room and locking the door.
A couple hours go by and I am awoken by the bedroom door knobs wiggling. “Y/n, please open the door” Quinn says. I get up and open the door to the bedroom looking at Quinn
“Why are you still here?” I say
“I want to listen. Tell me why you left. I won’t get mad, I just want to make it better” he says. I move to the side so he can come in. He goes over and sits on one side of the bed letting one leg hang off.
“Tonight just made me realize that you don’t treat me like I’m your girlfriend. Half the time when we go out I feel like a groupie or something. I saw how the other guys treat their girlfriends in public and you can even do the bare minimum of saying ‘this is my girlfriend’” I start
“We-” Quinn tries to butt in
“No Quinn, I’m not done.” I say sternly, “You didn’t say one word to me even when I would ask you questions you found a way to walk away without answering. Then you ask me if it would kill me to smile. Quinn that is the only thing you said to me all night since you shrugged me off”.
“I’m sorry. I know it is far to late but I-” Quinn starts but stands up, making his way to the door. I don’t have enough fight in me to ask where he is going so I just stay and cry until I am asleep.
I wake up to see the clock reads 4:30am. I get up and make my way down the hall to the the TV on and a sleeping Quinn on the recliner in front of it. I open the blanket he has wrapped around him and cozy in beside him on the recliner. Quinn wakes a little to open his arms to pull me in. “I’m sorry for leaving” I say sadly
“Don’t apologize” he stirs “Just don’t leave me”
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Could you do your 2, 13, and 35 prompts for Chucky? Thanks <3
Sure! Today I binged Child's Play 1-3 today so here's a little chase scenario/short for Chucky >:) No specific movie. I could've made this longer but I was just doing what I first saw in my head-
This feels like potential for an ending event of a fic, so maybe in the future I'll make a part before this. Only maybe.
Yandere! Chucky Prompts 2, 13, 35
"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"
"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!"
"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!"
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Mentioned stalking, Blood, Murder mentioned, Swearing in one line, Violence, Threat, Implied forced relationship, Graphic descriptions despite this being short, Ritual mentions.
"Don't push me away, dear... I only want to be closer to you!"
The malicious voice of the doll echoes through the walls of your house. You curse yourself for even trusting the gift. You wonder if your friend was set up by... it to give it to you.
Normally you'd call yourself crazy for thinking a doll could threaten anybody. You know better now due to seeing what it can do. This doll... Chucky... appears to know you a lot longer than you did it/him?
"Okay, maybe I came off a bit strong. The whole revealing myself thing should've taken more time. But honestly? I can't wait to take you in."
You hear fast steps run about your house. He's toying with you. He knows he'll get what he wants, even if you try to defend yourself with that weapon of yours.
"I promise it won't hurt... much- I already have the perfect type of doll you can be, baby! Just give up and reveal yourself... it'll be quick."
You don't give him the satisfaction of responding back. Instead you make your way to the nearest exit. You can't tell if it's best to stay in the house and fight him or flee outside.
Either way you can't really see him... would giving him an open area only be worse?
"Oh for fuck's sake you won't even give me a response? You're cold!" Chucky yells, more movement soon following. "It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"
You grit your teeth and slowly try to open the door behind you. In response a knife is thrown at your leg, causing you to cry in pain. Blood drools out of the wound as you try to fumble the door open despite the pain.
"What? Are you mad I killed them?" Chucky says from behind you, he sounds rather annoyed. "Think of how I feel! I had to watch you mingle with other people that weren't me! You know what? I got tired of it!"
You manage to push the door open, only for something to slice the back of your leg. Your cries ring out and you slip on your own blood. The pain in unbearable, Chucky pulling your head back to expose your throat certainly wasn't helping.
"So what if a few people have to die? It'll only bring us closer!" Chucky growls, holding on as you flail. You can stand with your wounds and struggle to fight the doll with a blade pressed to your throat. "In fact, your own death and blood will bring us closer if you just let me conduct this little ritual!"
"Go to Hell!" You yell, cringing at the warmth of both the doll and blood coating your clothes.
"Oh, baby... I can't!" Chucky teases before pushing the knife closer "Not unless I take you with me!"
You struggle more with the doll before he eventually finds a way to knock your head with something. You're not quite unconscious but docile enough to allow the doll to tie you down. You struggle weakly in your binds, realizing the blood loss would put you in shock in soon. While you come to terms with tour situation... you barely notice Chucky drag a doll in.
"If you continue to fight me on this, you're dead." Chucky claims in a stern tone. You're in no place to fight anyway so you weakly nod. In reality, you'll probably die either way with the blood you're losing.
Perhaps you're just tired of fighting anyways.
Chucky smiles at your compliance, lifting your head to see your dull eyes.
"Now I want you to sit tight, I prepared for this moment." Chucky chimes, placing his hands on the doll and you. "After this... you'll be my perfect little doll, just you see."
You go light-headed, feeling your own warmth begin to slip away. You hoped death would claim you before he did whatever the hell he was planning. Unfortunately, that would be mercy compared to what's happening.
"Give in." Chucky orders. "When you wake up, we'll be made for each other."
It's then you hear a foreign language spill from the doll's lips.
You're too weak to even cry.
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hello! ^^
I recently finished your rftw series with michael! the story is so good (/gen) and I’m so excited to see what the last part of cadence has in store! if you don’t mind me asking, are there any hope for it to be released? @-@
Cadence has been a thorn in my side ever since I started writing it. It's painfully close to being done, but I can never coax it into wrapping up. On the chance I never do finish it, here's my WIP (remember this is in context of Cadence's 15K part 1 before anyone comes at me for characterizaton lol):
(NSFW, vaginal sex, somnophilia, choking)
Cold. That’s the first thing you notice. Cold- and droning like white noise. Warmth still clings to your chest, but a chill creeps over-- Your eyes snap open, arms shooting out, searching the dark because <i>fingers</i> touched your side. What you find, of course, is broad shoulders and wobbly latex. Michael. But what you find is also <i>wet.</i>
You recoil first- hands disengaging as he continues what he’s doing: flipping the blankets over, which you must’ve crawled under in your sleep, and pulling harshly at your pants. A seam pops- and you mumble in frustration, undoing the buttons with half-asleep hands. As soon as it’s open, he rips them down your legs. You hiss, the fabric stinging like carpet burn down your thighs. He’s keyed up, too excited from a fresh kill to even care- your underwear is shredded before you can even lift your hips to pull it off.
Fuck, it’s going to be one of those nights.
One massive hand keeps you still, holds you hips in place while the other unzips his coveralls with a <i>zzzzt</i>. Electricity sparks in your belly; he’s going to fuck you. The thought of his cock alone makes your thighs press together, the sweet promise of release so tempting after the last two days. His knees press into the mattress, your whole body shifting as it dips under his weight- and he doesn’t even wait for you to get resettled. The hot head of his cock rubs blindly between your legs; you don’t bother concealing your gasp as he brushes your clit.
In the darkness, it’s only you and him. Time and space fall away, nothing left in existence but his body moving against yours, the raw physical sensation of heat and pressure and each of his exhales echoing in the mask. Your fingers grab at his shoulders, just for an anchor, twist into the coveralls- and it’s wet. You shudder, imagine how he must look, coated head to toe in viscera, tracked blood straight to your suite and-
You don’t smell iron.
His clothes are wet, but they are also <i>cold</i>. The mask is just visible with the low moonlight that sneaks in through the curtains- and it’s clean. Cleaner than you remember ever seeing it, almost starkly white. One flop of synthetic hair hangs darkly, solidly, over his latex forehead. You trace your fingers up over the slightly melted edge, over rubbery ears.
Michael forces himself inside you with one stroke; your cunt <i>burns</i> with the stretch, all limbs closing around him in desperation to keep him still. Tears spring to your eyes once more, teeth scraping open your bitten lip- and all you can do is tell yourself to breathe, to focus on the coming pleasure, because it will, it always does, no matter how cruel Michael chooses to be.
So your snap your thighs closed around his waist, locking him deep inside while you clench and shiver in pain and shock and the first trembling whispers of <i>good</i> because <i>fuck</i>, he’s so <i>big.</i> Your walls flutter around him, body struggling to stretch to accommodate him. Warmth replaces the cool, radiates out from between your legs and- and something isn’t right.
Michael should be drawing back, forcing your legs apart and pounding away until the fuel of his bloodlust has burned off, more animal than man- but he’s not. Rain water drips onto your chest, runs off the shape of his false face, the heavy noise of his breathing masked by the soft rumble of rain and thunder. Bent over you, he’s not quite <i>on</i> you like he normally is- no, he’s leaned away, enough for you to stare into the pitch black holes where his eyes should be. There’s no light to see the gray or white beneath, but they must be fixated on you.
“Michael?” You murmur, too sleepy to mask the concern there. He doesn’t even tip his head. It’s not panic, not yet- if he thought he was in danger he wouldn’t be still like this, if it was some new type of sadism, there’d still be an air of it on him. This is… something new, something you haven’t yet been able to pick up the little signs of.
Your hands unwind from his soaked coveralls, the joints creaking from the effort. The fabric is rough and even more abrasive still soaked with water, but you stroke his arms as best you can and seek out his face in the darkness. Without any reaction you skate higher, one hand dancing up his chest, just past the drooping collar, to the thin strip of skin visible between the rough cotton and smooth latex.
“Michael…?” His name hangs on your lips- and he answers with his hips.
The animal drive has disappeared entirely. It’s a smooth roll, shallow- cautious. Where you had expected force and pain is softness; you gasp, part shock and part pleasure- and Michael must take it as a good sign. He keeps this strange pace and you dig your fingers into the shoulders of his suit, squeezing more rainwater out with each thrust. Your body isn’t sure what to do- so used to producing quick, efficient lubrication, you’re nearly gushing for him now. This sort of kindness from Michael is foreign, saved for when he’s injured or sick or- or particularly cruel. But this <i>isn’t</i> that- it’s new.
You can’t even begin to understand his motives- why he needs <i>this</i>- but you can still give it to him. When you wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him closer, he only resists for a moment. Closer- closer until you can hear his soft pants from behind the mask, feel the heat of his breath with each puff through the nose holes.
When he shifts his weight, he slides deeper- stroking so gently along places that have only known his brutal paces. You gasp, pull his hips closer with your legs- and the tilt of his head towards your mouth is not at all lost on you. Without prompting, he expands upon the motion: sliding nearly all the way back out until you’re whimpering, aching for his return- and pushing in so slow, finding his way so deep within you until tears gather at your eyes.
<i>”Michael,”</i> It’s a prayer, an acknowledgement, a <i>thank you</i>-
His breath catches; if your hands were not on him you wouldn’t have even felt it. He keeps pace, betrays no other hints of his reaction- fucks you deep and slow, rolls his hips with each thrust, grinds against your clit so sweetly- but you felt it, that sharp little inhale.
With his head tipped towards you, it’s hardly a stretch to reach the latex. Cool and as clean as you’ve ever known- you kiss blindly in the dark. It’s too smooth to be the lips, slightly puckered with melting- must be his cheek. It isn’t for long, because Michael turns, meets you halfway. The rubber lips taste like rain water, not at all like the cruel mouth that lies just beyond- the taste of blood on his tongue as sweet as vanilla frosting. You kiss him and all the while tension settles between his shoulders, radiates down his arms.
<i>”Michael,”</i> You repeat, this time with <i>purpose,</i> you scrape your nails against the harsh cotton of his coveralls to emphasize it. This time, it’s his hips- a thrust just too harsh to be completely controlled. It’s a spark to kindling; the kind of treatment your body’s been waiting for- and the “Yes!” that follows is not intentional at all.
And still- in the darkness you <i>feel</i> his resolve, the decision he’s made- whatever game he’s playing. He doesn’t give in, as much as his fingers are threatening to tear the sheets, he slows- keeps his pace even.
There is one thing, however, you’re sure he can’t resist. Delicately- as much as you can be while being fucked- you wrap one hand around his left wrist. He doesn’t react at all, hardly seems to notice- except with you tug at it, urge it away from its death grip on the sheets. This he tips his head at. “Michael,” You whine, tug again for emphasis. The mask tips the other way, his pace slowing with curiosity. He gives in, shifts his weight to his other arm, lets you move his hand-
The seams <i>pop</i> to the left of your head, his grasp shearing through them as you guide his three-fingered hand to your throat. The weight of it alone has your pussy tingling, every nerve woken, waiting for him to deliver. You think, perhaps, you might be crazy to taunt him like this, to get this wet at the thought of him choking you.
It’s not a thought for long.
The muscles in his palm twitch once before he adjusts the grip. His hand rises up, forces you head backwards and <i>squeezes</i>. Not a single moan escapes his grasp, but he must know- because the mask tips again, the empty back eyeholes boring straight into you, watching every reaction. And like that, his interest in being soft has evaporated.
He fucks you- the same fervor you’d expected after a hunt finally manifesting with each thrust, his cock ricocheting inside you, gives no room for hesitation. It doesn’t matter- darkness is buzzing at the corners of your vision, eyes growing heavy and tired, barely able to keep awake if it weren’t for the force of Michael’s hips. You’re fading, head lolling with each impact-
Michael’s grip loosens. Air floods your burning lungs- and you’d been so oxygen deprived you didn’t know how close you were. He doesn’t even let you moan; his hand closes around you again before any noise slips out. Your throat vibrates under his palm and you wonder if he knows you’re screaming his name as you tip over. With no air every feeling is amplified, your adrenaline-fried brain bringing every stimulus up and up until it’s unbearable.
Clamping down on him as hard as you can doesn’t deter him at all; he fucks you without pause even as your mind frays. Heat pulses out from your pussy, radiates down your legs, up into your chest- and you arch your back up, press more of your skin to the cold cloth of his suit. Your nails rip at the sheets, at his back, at anything you can reach- you don’t even realize you’d been digging your knees into his sides until he grabs one and <i>forces</i> your legs apart, all his weight held on your femur.
#kat answers#michael myers#michael myers x reader#rftw#rest for the wicked#reading abt my love of describing the mask's white face and black eye holes.......#i really do have a type dont i LOL
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The Archer
1. Alone And Forsaken
Here is the link to the description
Spring 2034...
Y/n sat on the dingy hospital bed taking in everything that Marlene had just told her. Shocked that they would have to kill Ellie to create the vaccine. There was no way to sugar coat that. She sat in silence that made her ears softly ring. Minutes, maybe even an hour went by when she heard gunshots not too far from the room she was put in. Slightly startled, she stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. She went to twist the knob and investigate the gunshots only to find that it was locked from the outside.
"Fuck me." She said under her breath, twisting the knob aggressively a couple more times. She takes a step back and looks around the room taking in her surroundings, looking for anything she could use as a weapon if anyone were to come in. Looking in the cabinets and drawers, she looked under the bed and found a rusty scalpel. "That'll do." She grabbed it and hid behind the door waiting. Minutes went by, probably a half an hour she estimated but she couldn't tell, she had no way of counting the minutes to hours. Soon she got tired of waiting for someone to burst in and fell asleep on the wall behind the door.
When she woke up she saw that she was now back on the hospital sheets with a firefly soldier standing guard at the door. "Uh, hello?" She was confused as to why there was a soldier standing at the inside of the door. "Miss Miller is it?" He said, "Yeah it is." She said with a hint of confusion in her voice. "You're father, Joel Miller escaped with the girl and killed tens of soldiers, I know that's a lot to take in but I'm sorry we will have to keep you here, with us until further notice." He said then stood up, leaving the room.
"What the fuck?" She said not believing anything he said or was it her just taking in the key things he said to her? She didn't care, all she could think about was why he would leave without his own daughter? She asked herself. What did she do wrong to make him choose to take Ellie instead of herself? A couple minutes of repeating those questions in her head she became filled with anger and rage and she destroyed the room, kicking the wall, punching the door and flipping the bed on its side. While she's destroying the room a girl angrily bursts in to confront her and watches the sight in front of her. A girl with y/h/c destroying the room, of course y/n didn't hear her storm in because she was too busy screaming in rage and throwing stuff everywhere to acknowledge the other being now in the room.
After two minutes of her raging she slides down the wall out of energy, along with being dehydrated and malnourished. With shaky hands in her face and tears forming in her eyes as a few small sniffles could be heard, she hears slow footsteps coming towards her and her head shoots up and eyes locked on to this girl with blonde hair pulled back into a braid slowly walking up to her as if she's making sure she doesn't make a wrong step to make the girl on the floor jump at her. Y/n notes that she has red, puffy eyes, like she's been crying a lot. She also looked severely out of it and weak, the girl that was approaching her stopped in front of her and came down to eye level in front of her,
"Are you his daughter?"
The blonde haired girl asked in a passive aggressive tone. A couple seconds went by, maybe even a minute and the girl against the wall looked up, tears slowly falling down her face as she said,
"Yes."
(The rest of the story will be better than this Chapter, trust me lol)
#the last of us#ellie williams x reader#abby anderson#abby anderson x reader#ellie williams#the last of us part 2#apocalypse#tlou 2
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You asked for prompts, so maybe awkward fem!Bucky getting flustered and pines over very self-confident and amazing fem!Tony? 👀
Fuck yes, I love fem!Winteriron! Here we go.
---
Steve had expected many things when he’d brought Becky into the tower. Mistrust, tension and fear being chief among them.
What he hadn’t expected was to bear witness to Jane Rebecca Barnes, former maneater and ladykiller, becoming a nervous, insecure wreck. And not because of the brainwashing either.
“Would you quit fidgeting?” Steve asked, and Becky turned around to give him a glare that had probably sent many a man running for his life.
“I’m not!” She started pacing again, looking exactly like the nervous Nelly she’d always told him he was. “What time is it?”
Steve glanced at his watch. “Why?”
“Just –” Becky huffed. “What time?”
“You going somewhere?”
“No, I’m –” She whipped around at the sound of the elevator opening to reveal Toni Stark, dressed in a burgundy pantsuit.
“– gotta give me more than that if they want to –” she paused, pulling her phone away from her ear. “Did I miss lunch?”
“No, you’re right on time,” Becky said, and Steve raised an eyebrow at the way her hands were fidgeting where she’d clasped them behind her back, out of Toni’s view. “I just –”
“Great. Grab your shit, we’re going out.” Toni’s eyes fell on Steve. “You coming too?”
“He’s busy,” Becky blurted before Steve could say anything. She gave him a half-threatening, half-desperate glare that Steve had to make a real effort not to laugh at. He schooled his features and cleared his throat.
“Actually, I –”
“Yep, we should leave. Right now,” Becky said, drawing a finger across her throat as soon as Toni’s back was turned. Steve stuck his tongue out at her, and Becky’s frown deepened as she grabbed her jacket and flung it over her shoulders. Toni pouted as soon as she saw it.
“Hey, where’s your new coat?”
“Um.” Becky froze, looking like a deer in the headlights. “It’s… upstairs?”
“Did you not like it?” Toni asked, and Becky’s shoulders rose, a horrified look crossing her face.
“Did… Did you leave that in my room?”
“Who else?” Toni huffed, propping her hands up on her waist. “You won’t take my card to go shopping, so I did it for you.”
“I didn’t know you bought it for me,” Becky said, her voice a little too high-pitched, and Toni sighed.
“Is that a problem? Because I can knock it off if it bothers you. It’s just –” Toni made a frustrated noise, gesturing up and down Becky’s body. “Fuck, look at you! You’re a fucking bombshell, and all you wear are the same three black shirts!” Toni folded her hands, giving Becky the sort of puppy eyes she must’ve perfected when she was really small. “Please let me buy you some clothes? I promise they’ll match your style.”
“I –” Becky looked at Steve like she was begging for help, but Steve just shrugged. He’d gone through the exact same thing when he’d moved into the tower. Sometimes it was easier to just let Toni have her way.
“Come on, Jane,” Toni whined, hooking her arm through Becky’s and pressing in close. “You’re killing me here! Please, just one shopping trip, I promise I’ll leave you alone after.”
Steve pressed a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at the look on Becky’s face, the stiff way she held herself as Toni touched her. Holy shit, was she blushing?
“Okay, Toni,” she mumbled, and Toni whooped, dragging Becky into the elevator. Becky stumbled after her, uncoordinated and clumsy in a way Steve had never seen her. Steve wished he had a camera to capture the moment, if only so he could send it to Becky later.
Becky Barnes crushing on the richest woman in America? Oh, he would never let her live this down.
Steve watched them as the elevator doors closed and was surprised when Toni’s face slipped from her usual confident smile into something a lot more real. Something Steve would almost call fond, right up until Toni smirked, her eyes trailing down Becky’s body in a way that was hard to misinterpret.
Becky didn’t notice, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, but Steve caught Toni’s eye across the room and raised an eyebrow at her. Toni stared right back at him, unashamed, and Steve let his eyes flick over to Becky before he frowned, making his position known without words. Toni gave him a tiny nod, stepping a little closer to Becky, and Steve smiled, reassured.
Poor Becky had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. And Steve would enjoy every minute of the show.
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Curtwen hc time! Bc we always need some more of these. (And strap in theres a few—)
First things first, i ADORE your last hc with Curt finding out about Owen first. I love the lines of dialogue beforehand between the two of them so SO much. I like that Owen would be like "stop tickling!" rather than "stop tickling ME", makes him sound more british.
Alr here are my thoughts:
Curt obviously spends a lot of time on his hair to keep it ✨️perfect✨️, but actually so does Owen. Owen uses a lot of product to keep his longer hair silky and soft, while Curt uses product specifically for looks. SO Owen loves that when theyre making out his hair ends up all up in Curt's face. Curts squinting and squirming and like "Owehehen- use a hair tie!" and Owens like "I literally just washed my hair, I'm not going to ruin it now-" so Curt has to suffer through giggles.
I will always and forever adore Barb being unwillingly involved in the boys' lil games, SO— Curt keeps asking and asking Barb to buildnhim somrthing that'll help him get revenge on Owen, but he never specifies what he wants the invention to do. So Barb's like "Mega, if you cant tell me what you want the invention to DO, i cant make one for you!!" and Curt tries to explain it in the vaguest way possible so that 1) she doesnt think he only wants it for himself and 2) itll still do what he wants it to do. And wventually when she connects the dots she teases the hell outta him. Curt makes excuses about the 'bad guys' bring thrown offguard or itd be helpful in interrogations, but Barb says "no one would ever use tickling in an interrogation, Mega" and Curt doesnt have the willpower or pride to correct her.
Owen has ticklish arms. There i said it. He wore a tak top while he and Curt were cuddling, and Curt just traced lines up and down the soft skin of his inner/outer arm. He tries SO FREAKING HARD not to tense his muscles because he knows as soon as he does Curt will notice. So hes just like "Curt could you cut it out? You're nails are itching me." and tries to move out of the way. But Curt senses somethings up and prods him (figuratively and literally) about it until he spills. Owen's laughter from soft tickles is so much different from when he's "getting wreckt". Its very breathy and soft, and he covers his face with the back of his hand to hide himself, but doesnt actively lean away from the feeling. Curt gets heart-eyes and immediately wants to hear more. Owen's throwing insults at him to stop, but he just lays there giggling into the side of the couch.
Finally, LETS👏TALK👏ABOUT👏CURT'S👏TICKLISH👏EARS👏. Our canon. Our bread and butter. Curt originally hates wearing earpieces because Barb hadn't perfected the technology yet and it always buzzed. He got yelled at because one time on a very important mission in Budapest Curt was losing his gd mind with how tingly his ear was feeling and he had to take it off. When Barb couldn't get ahold of him, she knew she'd give him an earfull later. Curt also has issues with Owen. Now, Owen loves Curt's ears. He thinks theyre a cute shape and he loves that theyre so sensitive. Owen adores tracing them and pecking them. Depending on the day, Curt wil either get major goosebumps from Owen, or lose his shiy immediately as he did in the famous interrogation scene. Owen always keeps an ostrich feather in his coat pocket. He rarely uses it, but he likes that Curt knows its always there. Its like its watching him 👀
THAT is all i have, i know it is alot but i am obsessed w these two and i just aAA-
AAAAAAAAA THESE ARE SO FUCKING CUTE I’M DYING I NEED CPR STAT!!! These two are gonna kill me, they’re such fucking dorks I love them I love them I love them! & I love that it makes him sound more British, I didn’t even think of that but now that you pointed it out I can’t stop seeing it!
I absolutely LOVE the difference in hair care between the 2 because they both obsess over their hair in different ways. Curt will style & gel his hair before he even thinks about stepping out the door because he’s always gotta look his best. Meanwhile Owen takes fucking forever after his shower brushing it & putting products in it to help it grow, heal split ends, make it soft, literally the works. Curt’s always like what the hell takes you so long??? & Owen’s just like “you have your hair routine, I have mine”
But it makes his hair so silky smooth & soft & it’s the perfect length to brush against Curt’s neck & ears when they cuddle or make out & it makes him so blushy & giggly because wtf hair shouldn’t tickle! But Owen absolutely loves the fact that he doesn’t even have to use his hands to get him laughing
On a related note, his stubble is the bane of Curt’s existence, it should be illegal
& omg Barb is constantly flipping between extremely amused & very annoyed, these boys never give her a fucking break! She’s so patient with Curt trying to find out what the fuck he actually wants from her, but he won’t stop beating around the bush & is being vague af. So she’s just like “damn if you can’t even say it you can’t be trusted with it” & then he tries to make more of an effort to actually describe what it is he’s looking for & she just gets more amused by the second. & when she says no one would use that in an interrogation he like mumbles under his breath something like “well Owen did” or “must be an MI6 thing” & he’s just being classic sassy Curt but she hears what he said & is like wait a fucking second. “Curt you can’t be serious. Agent Carvour is a professional” & he’s getting flustered & huffy & just goes “yeah, a professional pain in my ass. So can you make it or what?” She has it ready for him by lunch the next day & demands a “full report” on the device’s performance. She even had a sticky note with it that just says “give him hell ;)”
FMVRMAGELW I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH RN! TICKLISH ARMS ARE SO UNDERRATED! Sorry for yelling but this really has me in a chokehold. Owen is pretty averagely ticklish in all the normal spots, but I like to imagine he’s a lot more sensitive in harder to reach or more unconventional spots like his arms. Light touches here drive him up the fucking wall ok, he cannot take it whatsoever. Immediately breaks down in a fit of giggles. He tries to hold out, but breathy snickers always force their way out as he squirms around trying to suppress his wide dopey ass grin. Curt thinks it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his life, & he’s right. His forearms are pretty bad & he can’t help but twitch away with a huff of laughter when Curt brushes over the skin there. But his biceps? That’s a good way to kill him. Light tickles there will have him in shrill hysterics & squeezing the muscle will draw out full on belly laughs. Owen didn’t even know he was ticklish there until Curt, & so he was really trying to hide the spot from the both of them. Because what a stupid fucking spot to be ticklish, he did not need to know how sensitive that spot was & he really didn’t need Curt to find out either. But he can’t lie to him, so they went in a little journey of discovery together
Bro we’re so damn lucky that we got canon ticklish!Curt I literally couldn’t believe it! & on his ears no less, like that is legit one of my favorite spots! It’s just so sweet & cute & the way people giggle & scrunch their neck for protection is so kxganssmabfi & that’s his literal introduction to the show!!! Like he legit goes from suave spy who never cracks under pressure to cutest giggly dork in the world in seconds flat! Like wtf they can’t do that to me! But I fucking LOVE how he can’t handle the ear piece because he’s too sensitive there & he just straight up ditches it! & when they ask him about it he’s all dodgy & embarrassed & not giving a straight answer until Cynthia threatens not to pay him for the assignment if he can’t answer her & he just blurts it out, blushing so much & Cynthia just scoffs like “Jesus Mega, that’s it? Why didn’t you just say so, no need to make such a big fucking deal out of it” & he’s so shocked because he honestly expected a lecture about how a spy shouldn’t be ticklish, but she was cool with it??? & she can kinda sense what he’s thinking so she says “look, we’re all human, I get it. I’ll get Barb to make some adjustments” & he thinks that’s the end of it but now she just uses it to tease the shit out of him when he’s least expecting it
His ears are Owen’s absolute favorite spot because Curt is soooo cute & giggly when he tickles him there & it’s one of his worst spots, & he’s a bit of a masochist & likes to bully his boyfriend. & I’m fucking dying thinking about him carrying around that feather all the time “just in case” like just imagine the first time Curt stumbles upon it! Maybe he’s looking for something in his pocket or grabbing his jacket for him & he just freezes & turns completely red. & he pulls it out & looks at Owen like “what the fuck is this???” & Owen looks up & smirks like “well you should know what that is” all smug & shit & he fucking has the audacity to wink at him. He knows exactly what he’s doing, & Curt really can’t handle it
Also worth noting: this is one of the top pics that comes up when you google Owen Carvour
I love them so very much, if you couldn’t tell
#asks#fruitee-goose#saf headcanons#spies are forever headcanons#curtwen#owen carvour#curt mega#special agent curt mega#spies are forever#saf#ticklish!curt#ticklish!owen
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Right here, right now(18+ and up) WIP
Tagged by the creative @cassietrn
Minors DNI.
TW: Violence, Language, gore, seggual scenes
A sunrise slowly climbing over the mountains while a creature of the darkness sat looking at the horizon before laying to rest. The Whitetail Mountains were so cold this early, frost coated everything more than enough to give it sparkle in the morning light. A new beginning to a beautiful day or at least that's what under cover agent Scarlet Dawn (aka Penelope Thompson) thought as she was to secretly infiltrate Eden's Gate. Looking into the disappearance of her former lover and Training Officer that first went under cover here. Lord knows what happened to him, she wasn't expecting to find him alive since his communication went dark weeks ago. And the agent that went looking for him also went missing, well ended up dying from a cliff accident or pushed, possibly murder.
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A long hike from one clue to another possibility was tiring on a count of this being larger than it should and everything going ass up. Tunnels heading out of Hope County were sealed, cultist take over, Deputies and the Sheriff were hostages except for Deputy Haig. Luckily for everyone she was there, even for Thompson some of the time. Though unbeknownst to Hope Country police department Thompson was on a mission even if it killed her. She played her role well, a civilian, a militias daughter, Scarlet Dawn.
"Miss Dawn, could you take the weaponry chest to the front, we gathered it from the Whitetails earlier and I really need to go to the restroom" a man said as he hot foot it to the restroom, I do what's asked of me. It's a bit lax when Jacob isn't here but when he's here and in a mood it's orderly and uniform. For the most part, I do my best to be away from him and his inner circle. I am cautious about being found out, eventually they will find out. And I'll have to leave town when they find me out, something is fishy here so maybe I'll end my search soon than I thought.
They are militant, I can't wait to go on patrol and go out to "Devils Drop", again, I hope I can get time to search thoroughly. I go through the motions till then, drills, inspection, and it's odd as usual. It was finally time, I about ran out, but my "superior" warned "I know you like it out there but careful, that Deputy Haig is out there". I'd dressed in regular clothes once far enough away, I walk and look for what I can but sometimes I felt eyes on me, even when I wasn't being recorded on Jacob Seed surveillance cameras. I walk and feel it, someone was following me, he was cautious but not so stealthy, I kept going waiting for his attack. I pretend to not notice as I take a break, then am grabbed with a chloroform rag in my face. I pull my concealed weapon and strike, he grunts and keeps hold on me then I'm weary as he applies more pressure. I am so close to falling unconscious, and see it's the one Deputy, Pratt, he is pulling out my stuff from my first aid. As I'm laying there feeling the whole world shifting back and forth.
"Shit, fucking bitch. Maybe Jacob was right about there being more to you huh, baby?" is the last thing I hear, I wake up possibly a while later on the Grandview Hotel floor. I remember finding a clue here and found out that civilians were possibly being thrown off a cliff known as "Devils Drop". I see no one was watching me and proceed to crawl away by the front desk, am cornered by Jacob Seed himself. He wouldn't there a moment where did he come from?
"Where do you think you're going?" he asks practically face to face, he's cool to the touch, his eyes are reading me and are dark in way that's frightening me. I try to move away from him but he growls in a way that isn't human, the chloroform has wore off enough that I smelled blood on the air. I don't know what to do at this point I assume I'm to die without knowing what happened to my former TO, Johnny Linder.
"I'll give you a chance to tell me what you were up to, before I deal with you. Now spill, TJ" I didn't realize it till now but I had tears running down my face, I didn't want to give myself away. Though I felt my cover was completely blown at this point, I could lie though from the look of Jacob he'll make me talk.
"I was looking for my former TO-" he cuts me off before I could say anymore.
"And former lover. Continue" he says, I clear my throat and am confused how he knew that, obviously no lying can be done, he probably killed Johnny, made him talk then offed 'im.
"Mm' yeah, I uh- was suppose to only come get him or his remains, maybe part of me was overly ambitious-" he cut me off again.
"You know he's dead, but you wanted information to get the Fed's here and more, as revenge for ol' Johnny Linder or hes better known alias Robert Utah" Jacob said as he pushed me back then stood up and looked at me as I quickly sat against the corner, he chuckled at his sick thoughts.
"Pratt may have over done it, you look wobbly and pitiful yet scared" Jacob said as he growled a low rumble, a smile on his face.
"And you're a fucking murderous hill billy monster fuck fa-" he is at me faster than I could blink, he's looking at me real good, his big hand gripping at my neck his expression is intrigued. He pulled me up to a stand, I yelped at his rough handling and my hair snagged on a something. He didn't care,
"Oo, you're so tough underneath it all, until I hurt your soft skin, huh? You won't be in pain for long, the others didn't know about you or Linder but I'll be the only one who knows" I'm silenced, I smell cold, dirt, blood, magnolias and Johnny? I look at Jacob hoping some weirdo knocked me unconscious and I was having some horrible nightmare but I wasn't, it's real. I'm confused how this strange cultist smells like Johnny and magnolias? This is too absurd, I assume I'm to die now, my life'll flash before my eyes soon.
"Fuck" I sigh as I close my eyes and remember a better time before all this, I'm just going to have to accept death. A sparkly memory comes to mind, after an under cover mission together, Johnny invited me to a wedding and we snuck away after and made love under a magnolia tree. I'm afraid but something was arousing desire in me, I opened my eyes once a new sensation overwhelmed me now, shock and wetness in a very noticeable place on my pants. Jacob isn't choking me anymore but his mouth is at my neck, I'm wrapped around him, grinding onto him. I stopped and he looked at me confused my blood on his mouth and fangs, I quickly elbow him hard in the neck and jumped off and ran out the back. I could hear Jacob laugh as I turn to run to the nearest trees but am immediately whacked unconscious. I wake up tied to a bed in a cabin, I try to yank myself free, this couldn't be happening. But my body hurt my head throbbed like a hangover.
"Hello, Penelope, I punished Pratt for hitting you a little too hard, I couldn't wait for you to wake so I went through your stuff" Jacob said with familiarly that I didn't like, I also didn't like that he went through my things. I noticed a pair of my panties sticking out of Jacobs pocket, but I look at his mouth, fuck the panties, this man is a monster or other. I watch intently.
"You have fangs, you were drinking my blood-" but I couldn't finish what I was going to say, my brain was remembering memories in my mind that I never experienced, I felt unease wash over me in heavy waves. I couldn't make sense of it all, Jacob looked at me curiously like I was a specimen. My head spun and nausea sat in me like weights, I'm doing my best to get a handle on this overwhelming sense of dread. I let my head fall back on the bed feel dizzy, I can't move much but feel a slitting headache.
"You ok kid?" I looked at him then away, I couldn't explain it and I just blanked out, and woke up to Jacob sitting by me on the bed my restraints undone I quickly try to go. Then a wave of dizziness pushed me back in bed, Jacob just looked at me perplexed.
"What'd you do to me" I moan in pain and anguish, the feelings, sensations and emotions I was feeling made me realize that I wasn't leaving anytime soon. Even if I wanted too.
"Well, you have to tell me what you are experiencing, or I won't know what happened to you, not that I could explain it. I've never had this happen before but I then again a meal hasn't got away from me before" I stared daggers at him but it softened, why did I botch his feeding, I come to realize he could finish it.
"You could, finish it, I mean. Finish what you started, here, I don't- I don't want to be here and keep experiencing this. Please don't let me suffer any longer, please, please, please" he watched me cry at him and exposing my neck, he just held me to him in a way that was too familiar, like how Johnny held me. I clung to Jacob, wanting him to make it all stop, wanting to hold on to him till he does.
'I couldn't live long like this, I wished to see her again even if it was for a second but being life long bed ridden from a bullet wasn't my future. Granted I was here to gather information about the Project at Eden's Gate and the disappearance of particular missing persons maybe I got in too deep. I asked Jacob to end it, I couldn't stay like this, I didn't want to. The thought of trying was sickening. Luckily the man agreed and like that am in a memory of Penelope and I, it's a better time-'
"You helped him die? Why won't you help me?" I choke out the sob and I want Jacob to kill me, I don't think he knows what happened or what he did to me. Suddenly I feel a poke and a cool sensation where I was stuck, I just stayed and let the sedative work. I had more experiences of many lives in their best and worst moments and other unsavory bits till they lessened in my sedated slumber.
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Jacob observed his unfortunate specimen, he wasn't expecting her to wake from his feeding or her knowing how Johnny died. She didn't specifically say but he knew just from the look on her face, but he had questions, for now he'd watch her some more. So many things could have contributed to their situation, he wrote in his notes and checked her vitals and took a few vials of blood then put a small IV in her to make up for drawing blood and drinking her blood. Jacob had Pratt take the vials to the medical labs for testing, and said for them to send the results in a sealed envelope. He waited for Penelope to wake up, checking his watch every now and then timing her breathing. Soon she starts to stir, he remembered her tell signs from Johnnys memories, he watches intently. Memories from Johnny littered his mind. She rolled over looking away from Jacob like she knew he was there, he took some offense to that and gave a stern glint of his eyes.
"You royally fuck up this time?" Penelope asked, a bit of malice in the question, but she was right I didn't ever devour two lovers in close time much less same year. I almost forgot and now I remember, it happened the first time a couple years back, maybe almost a year since being turned. I was learning to control my hunger, so as not to practically crush their necks causing their immediate death. I look at Penelope wondering if am doing right by studying her, or should I have just crushed her neck instead trying to enjoy what she and Johnny had. The pleasure and the feeding is another high, with all my past feedings, nothing came close, and it was so fast then I hadn't enough control of my hunger. I was almost not going to say but I decided to tell her what I thought she could handle for now.
"That. And you're intriguing to me, I don't understand it, why what happened, happened. I have to look more into it, I've a theory but I need to test it before I come to a conclusion" I see and feel her tension before Penelope can act am infront of her in a blink, she flinched reality setting in that I'm not putting up with her.
"Just kill me" Penelope pleaded.
"Oh don't start that again, sleep and stay asleep for a few hours" I command with disgust and disdain, then I call Pratt at the secluded cabin with more needles and clothes for my lovely specimen. When I'm not with her I want her in restraints and sedated till I find out more about this situation and her lab results. Or have her past the point of wanting to die and cooperate with my curiosity.
A two days later.
"I don't get it, you think I lost my mind trying to figure this out" I jest at my guest as she lay there on the couch, feet in my lap, my eyes feeding into every little move. Maybe she was right, I was feeding the part of Johnny that missed and wanted his ex. She was feeding her own wants too, Penelope wouldn't admit it but maybe she was actually starting to like me. I only held memories what it was like with them and it was fueling my hunger or a hunger.
"But- I hate to get heavy. How did Johnny die?" Penelope asked and sat up after moving her legs off the couch and looked at me earnestly. I knew her sweet on me act was leading up to this but I thought I wouldn't have to retell it, yet.
"We spent a lot of time going through the Whitetail Mountains, he was former military, of course. Almost same time as me, actually. I knew Johnny was here to infiltrate, I let him. He grew on me, I just thought he'd be like a brother I could keep with me after I drained him. I just wasn't aware that you'd jump on his assignment" Penelope looked on anxiety making her smell delicious. She swallow back her anxiety and nodded for me to continue with what had happened. I focus, but I took a moment to view that neck.
"We come across a squabble with some our own and the resistance, nothing unusual, but one guy was heated he wouldn't let up and Johnny was covering me. I should have covered him, if I got shot I'd been fine but Johnny jumped in. We rushed him to triage and got someone to do their best so a doctor could work on him. He got the help and John took care of the bill and all that, doctor said he was paralyzed from the neck down. Nothing was going to help, I thought about turning him. He just wanted to come back then he finally asked what I was, he said he seen me break the guys arms who got him. I told him, he asked if I could end him, he didn't want to become like me, I tried talking him into doing it but you know Johnny. We talked for days then he asked to be cremated, gave me permission to drain him. He said your name as he passed" Penelope now was breathing a calm breath through a heavy sob, hand to her heart. That was just Johnny.
"Damn it. Is it possible that I knew how he felt? Because I feel it and- and I think you can, or felt that as well?" I did and it was odd facing this with a victim and knowing her like this, why'd I have this power, kinda useless for a murdering vampire to feel this. A time like this and I'd rather be human again, having started this as a human was easier but with this woman, now. I felt a sense of humanity and more complex, had I known Johnny had these feelings for her I'd not drained him and just not dealt with this. I think this but am feeling Johnny's attraction, and thinking on how they do what lover would do. Also thinking how I could initiate something with her maybe, they had such close passionate intercourse, I shouldn't but I wanted to feel it too, wanted to feel her too.
'Focus, damnit', I should have taken up what's her faces offer but I don't think it'd matter if I did as I sat by Penelope. All I wanted was to bring her close and kiss her and lay back to let her sleep on my chest. I look out the window and mentally name what I seen out there, just get my mind out of the wanting and needing. I didn't have time for that or maybe I could do it later if Penelope wanted to. Wishful thinking.
"You look distracted, maybe we could do this another time" Penelope said obviously feeling tension not only did I want deep inside her in many ways. I also wanted to bite and have her blood all over her as we fuck, maybe rip her apart when I cum. The thought of her last breath and that familiar squelch of flesh made my dick twitch. I also wanted to kiss her for hours, have her cut me open, use my blood for lubrication as she fucked herself on my dick till I cum in both her pussy and ass or wounds. But she's human and that'd probably kill her if her blood is involved. My lack of soul was jumping between mutilating and abusing her and the Johnny part of wanting keep her safe and loved was going back and forth, up and down.
"Uh yeah, I better get-" I say kinda hesitantly. Penelope touched me on the shoulder and I felt a flutter in my stomach, fucking Johnny. That dark haired son of a bitch, he deeply loved her, wanted her to live a good life but she only followed him. I feel it stir, I doubt Johnny would approve but we were kinda giving into the sexual tension bit of this odd phenomenon. I shift in my seat to face her, give her the option and I watch her to get my go ahead.
"Jacob, you scare me and make me question the reality of this world, and the cultist thing is so fucking fucked-" she said but looked down in my lap and quickly looked up, I see and sense that she knows am feeling something, maybe it'll make her mad or maybe she feels the same. Knowing she knows makes my cock ach, she squirms a little in her seat and in a way that isn't helping our situation or my thought process.
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The two struggle to focus, the sadness of the moment shifted, spending too much time alone and Jacob was giving into Johnny and Penelope feelings. Penelope wasn't fairing any better with the same feelings, she was hoping it was just an odd paranormal phase. Something.
"C'mere baby" Jacob said I didn't hesitate and got on his lap, I immediately kiss him while his hands roamed and grope, it felt familiar but not with whom I was familiar with. Soon he pulled me so tight and close and moved me against his groin, he was so strong I could feel it as I touch and rub on his arms and shoulders. His kiss was strong too, I could only imagine how good it'd feel in other places besides my mouth, neck and shoulder. I pulled away for a moment to breathe, Jacob groaned and I felt a rumble in his chest that I had to tease little kisses on his face and kiss his neck. Just to cool off a bit but I knew they'd make him hotter, was that possible for a vampire. I suppose as I felt him plenty hard under me, I lick and kiss as he worked me against him. Our lovers baited breath, panting and his soft growls filled the little cabin, and that got me but then a surge of energy vibrated through Jacob.
"Did you fucking vibrate?" I asked surprised and amused, Jacob smiled and did it again, I giggled then felt unsure after a moment. He noticed and cupped my face to bring my lips to his, he kissed me softly at first. I'd say it was like Johnny but the way Jacob moved and kissed it was like he was trying take my soul through my mouth. I reciprocate till am panting helplessly, I smell a scent like blood as I'm held to Jacob, I hadn't realized that he was drinking my blood till now. I look at him and he pushes me back to look at me better with me on his fanged mouth. I see he ripped the shirt I was wearing and my bra was in view, the blood run down and stained my clothes.
"Jacob" I say only for him to rip the rest of my shirt off, am put on the couch and I push down my panties and leggings, Jacob ripped and pulled off his shirt and sweater. I was so impatient I was practically trying to rip off my bra, but am helped with a fast, steady vampire hand. His fanged kiss, licking and sucking along my body from my stomach to my breasts. I looked down to see blood where he kissed, he had bit me and I didn't feel it, but at this point I didn't care, it felt euphoric. He softly kiss me then went back to enjoying my blood, I could taste my blood and kind of enjoyed it. Jacob was at my left tit sucking blood from the bites then licking and lapping at the splatters. He switched to my right tit but engulfed it hungrily with a growl that made me sigh, fangs pricked my flesh I giggle at how cute it looked despite the blood and fangs.
"Hhf, Jacob!" I gasp and he's inside me so fast and working into me, the kisses on my body all feel wet from blood. We look into each others eyes, he has a glow about him with a bit blood dripping from his mouth, also smeared on 'im. Before I can even close my eyes Jacobs mouth is on my mouth and he's pulling me on him and he is thrusting in me, I moan in his mouth. I tighten 'round him as he uses me rougher, his mouth latched on harder, he growls while drinking my blood. I groaned and feel my legs shake, I feel myself getting weaker but it feels so good am softly moaning. He moves faster than I can react and feel myself squirting and I black out from blood loss.
"Oh fuck, Penelope. Wake up, Pratt hurry the fuck up and bring the blood bag. I almost drained you baby, come on focus angel" Jacob says trying to get me to regain consciousness, I feel so weak and dizzy but Jacob still smells like Johnny but a little less now.
"Ah Jacob, Jacob" is all I can muster, fastest sex but deadliest, Jacob kisses my bite wounds and licking them.
"You're probably going to be weak for a little while Pen but Pratt will get you more blood and food to get you back to normal. I'm sorry, I got lost in the moment and forgot I just needed a taste and not to drain you. Fuck was it amazing though, well, till you went unresponsive for a bit then I had to check your pulse.." I fall asleep.
"Shit, maybe I won't be fucking her like that again" I smile and lay back and fall asleep unfortunately but I try to stay awake.
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(Draft Release)
~Plans to Leave~
headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up|drabble
The rain currently pelting the side of the apartment showed no signs of letting up anytime soon according to the weatherman on the living room TV. You sigh and direct your vision to the shadowy figure passing the large window and coming up the stone steps of your building. Only seconds later did you hear the doorknob jiggle before he entered and closed the door behind him. At first it would appear he was dripping just from the rain alone, but upon closer inspection you noticed the blood mixing with the water coming down as well. When the smell of fresh rain subsided is when you noticed the smell of burning flesh. You can't help but in all your worry to also feel a sense of small annoyance creeping up beneath the surface. Still, you quickly got up from your comfortable position the couch and headed to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. He silently followed behind you, not bothering to hang his soaked, torn trench coat up by the entryway door. Instead he opted for tossing the soggy thing on the hallway floor carelessly. His expression was more less than pleased you noticed when he sat on the toilet and began taking what was left of his shirt off. You pulled the first aid kit from beneath the bathroom sink and washed your hands. You tried not to make much eye contact in the moment, not exactly knowing which emotion you'd be feeling when you locked eyes with those blue orbs.
Anger, regret, sadness, pity, annoyance, pain, disappointment, relief...The possibilities were endless but they were also unavoidable.
You began first inspecting the staples riddling his face, neck, and along his upper chest. Some were old, rusted with time while others were newer. It was a nasty memory of the night you put them in yourself. Even worse, some were now missing, leaving flesh to hang a tad lower than it should ever appear on another humans body. You grimaced and he noticed this, looking away for a second at nothing in particular. When he looked back at you, your eyes were boring into his. He hated when you did that...when you looked at him expecting an explanation for all this. Sometimes even worse than now, you'd rather have an apology or something along the lines of a promise he'd never do this again.
He couldn't give it to you.
"Y/N..."
"Don't even start with that..." You quickly popped open the pill bottle laying at the side of the box and handed him two pain pills. He swallowed them without complaint and waited to hear the rest of your rant. It was inevitable after all. "You always fucking do this. It's like you just don't even care about me nor your own self. I get what you've been through. I know it was a shit deal but killing yourself for the sake of retribution seems a little bit too much right?!" He glared at your words, scoffing and once again looking away from you. "You get what I've been through? Y/N you couldn't even begin to imagine half of the shit I've been through. You couldn't grasp it and because of that, you'll never fucking understand why I do what I do. I don't care about anything but seeing Endeavour take his last breaths even if that means I go too. I want all of them to suffer. I want all of them to see. I want-"
"I thought you said you wanted me?" He pauses and looks down at you, now teary eyed as you cleaned his wounds for maybe the 5th time these past 2 months. "Dabi...I thought you said a long time ago you wanted me right? That you couldn't tolerate many other people but that I was special. You said it while looking me dead in my eyes, and I swear you couldn't have lied to me by the way you looked at me that night. I'm tired of seeing you do this to yourself. You can't imagine falling in love with someone whose ultimate goal is to leave you in the end one way or another. How are you going to make plans with me in the future and then toss them away every chance you get? You need to make up your mind...It's me or him."
"You knew what my goals were. I made that abundantly clear at the beginning of this relationship and I won't let anyone or anything stop me from reaching that goal...not even you." He gently reached out and pushed you aside as he stood up. "Goodbye Y/N..." No eye contact between either of you in the moment. You couldn't even stand to look at him because you knew if you did then the tears would start and they wouldn't let up. So you stared at the floor and listened. You listened as he trudged down the hallway, picked up his wet coat and opened the front door. You listed when he closed it, locking it behind him before dropping his copy of the key through the mail slot and onto the wet floor. You listened to the pounding of your heart, drowning out your thoughts for a moment as well.
Maybe worst of all, you'd been listening all these months later as well. Even at the sound of the war breaking out between heroes and villains. Even at his new broadcast revealing what you already knew about Toya Todoroki.
Even at the sound of the loud explosion being covered over radio wave, the threat of evacuation shortly beforehand as a familiar villain has self destructed himself.
#bnha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha#dabi#dabi bnha#toya todoroki#scenario#dabi x reader
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