#I do. want to smoke soon though. its been a hell of a day and I woke up triggered and things didnt rlly improve from there

[straydogged]

fuck me im so exhausted

[runariya]

The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 1

summary: After being sold to a dangerous wolf hybrid at a secret auction, you find yourself bound to him in a game of control and obsession. pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: DDDNE, angst, violence, trauma, hybrid trafficking, JK is an Alpha, nud!ty, hormone suppressants, b!ting, blood, sniffing, the obsession is slightly showing, murd€r, gun, branding, fainting, lmk if I forgot smth - THX word count: ~ 1.8K

a/n: why would I give you a sneak peek when I could just gift you the first chapter? hihi 🤭 the chapters to this story will be as short as this one...soooo....and PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CHANGE YOUR SETTINGS, I CAN'T TAG SOME OF YOU 😭

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 2

You haven’t slept in days, haven’t felt right in yourself for even longer, but somehow the adrenaline still floods through you, keeping you wide awake, on edge, your senses sharper than they’ve ever been, catching every little movement around you like your life depends on it, which is truly does.

It’s hard to believe that just two months ago, you were innocently walking down the street, not paying any attention to the blacked-out car with its door wide open or the figure standing across the pavement pretending to be on the phone. You had no idea then that you’d soon wake up miles away in another country, surrounded by other cat hybrids, far from the only home you've ever known.

You’re not stupid—you know exactly why they took you, what they’ve got planned, what they want from you. Even so, you stubbornly refuse to accept the grim future they’ve laid out for you.

The factory hall you’re crammed into now, in some grubby back room with the other hybrids, is every bit as filthy as your once-pristine black fur. What was once sleek and soft is now matted with dirt, so vile it makes you want to gag.

You’ve overheard the men who dragged you here talking about some hidden annual auction, where dangerous men from all over the world come to bid on the likes of you. Ever since, the other hybrids have been breaking down, sobbing and begging, their wails so relentless you feel like your brain is going to explode. Yet you stay quiet, ears pricked, your senses locked on every faint sound coming from behind the door.

Soon enough, they come for you all, shoving you roughly through the corridor you were brought down earlier, though this time they steer you down a different path, lining you up on a shabby makeshift stage. The construction site-style floodlights beam down so harshly that you can’t keep your eyes open for long, the brightness overwhelming and painful.

Through your squinting eyes, you catch glimpses of the men gathered in front of the stage—some muttering quietly to each other, others smoking as they lazily size up each woman. You search for even a hint of kindness in their faces, but of course, there’s none to be found—only cold stares from the most powerful predator hybrids. You feel completely exposed, even with clothes on, so vulnerable that it’s a wonder you don’t simply keel over from the intensity of being watched.

The auction starts soon enough, but it drags on endlessly, until finally, you’re the last one to be put up for bidding. It’s a shock when your price rockets past the others by millions. What doesn’t surprise you in the least is when a dangerous wolf hybrid steps forward to claim you. You knew, from the moment they snatched you off that street, that your life was always headed straight to hell. 

When you arrive at your supposed new ‘home’, the wolf hybrid, who had you driven in a separate car from his, two golden retriever hybrids—one male and one female—greet you silently, as the wolf hybrid barks out “Get her ready, run all the tests.”

They bow nervously to him with obvious fear, muttering, “Yes, Alpha,” before leading you stumbling over your own feet away.

They scrub you clean, working the conditioner into your fur, detangling the knots that have formed over time. It ought to feel soothing, and on some level it does, but the very fact you’re being ‘prepared’ for something you can’t even begin to imagine keeps you from feeling any real sense of comfort. They run a barrage of tests—urine, blood, checking for illnesses like STDs—and though there’s some relief in knowing you’re healthy despite your malnutrition, the fear never leaves you. Your tail, now soft and groomed, curls tightly between your legs, trying its best to shield your bare chest from their prying eyes.

Once they’ve finished prodding and poking you, they dress you in clothes that fit a little too well, and when your fur is finally dry, they lead you up several floors until you reach the penthouse.

The space is shrouded in darkness, save for the twinkling lights of Busan’s cityscape outside. Every surface, from walls to ceiling, is dark and gleaming, with deep brown furniture blending into its shadows, the only touches of light come from minimal brass-coloured décor scattered sparingly around the room. The golden retrievers push you silently to the centre, where the wolf hybrid lounges lazily on a leather sofa smoking a cigar, his eyes fixed on you, never wavering. The retrievers do nothing more than bow silently and exit, leaving you alone under his cold gaze.

His stare penetrates you, inspecting every inch of your trembling body from your twitching cat ears down to your feet, while the heat from the nearby fireplace stings your fragile skin. You try to lower your gaze to the floor, hoping to escape the intensity of his, but his dark eyes pull yours back like they have their own magnetic force.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

You want to answer, you really do, but it’s as if your voice has been lost since the day you were taken, and your only response is the bristling of your tail in an instinctive attempt to protect yourself.

When it becomes clear you won’t speak, he’s not having any of it, and his voice booms, “I said, what’s your name!”

You flinch at the loud slap of his tone, a frightened hiss escaping your lips before you can stop it. His expression darkens, one eyebrow raised in irritation as his finger taps impatiently against the backrest.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you manage to whisper your name.

“Speak up,” he snaps. “I’m not a fucking feline.”

You gulp, clearing your throat as best and silently you can, and try again with a parched throat, this time just loud enough for him to catch. He nods, seemingly satisfied for now.

“Strip,” he orders after a long pause, his cold eyes locked onto yours, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The last thing you want to do is obey, but you can see the anger rising rapidly in him again, and you know better than to push your luck. Trembling, you begin to undress, feeling utterly exposed even before your clothes hit the floor. He watches you with the cold detachment of someone examining an object rather than a person, and though you’re fully naked, your tail desperately tries to cover your most private parts.

The wolf hybrid sighs heavily as he stands, exuding a casual dominance that reminds you exactly who he is. He moves around you slowly, inspecting every inch of you while you stare blankly ahead, your ears twitching nervously to follow his movements.

He stops behind you, towering over your smaller frame, and you feel his cold hands glide up your arms, squeezing your shoulders lightly before his nose brushes against your neck up to the back of your ear. He inhales deeply, and you feel your legs grow weak with a dizzying wave of fear.

“You smell divine,” he mutters to himself, though the words ring loudly in your sensitive ears. “But something’s off.”

His hands trail back down your arms, his nose following the curve of your spine, your fur standing on end as goosebumps spread across your skin. He stops at your lower back, just before your tail begins, sniffing intently before, without warning, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. You yelp in shock and pain as he spits something metallic onto the floor beside you.

“Fucking bastards,” he growls, and you know he’s right. The implant he’s just bitten out was the one messing with your hormones, suppressing your natural cycle and heats, placed methodically where you can’t reach. Though the bite stings violently and blood trickles down your legs, you feel immediate relief now that the implant is finally out.

He runs his hand back up your spine, stopping when he reaches your neck, his fingers grazing over the small burn mark where your slave number is branded into your skin. The sensation makes you shudder violently, triggering nerves that are too raw to keep you standing still, but he seems entirely unbothered by your reaction.

“Alpha…” a voice interrupts. The door opens and a crocodile hybrid strides in without so much as a knock, freezing when his eyes land on you. Instinctively, you try to back away, only to bump into the wolf hybrid behind you, making you tense even further.

The crocodile hybrid doesn’t move, his gaze fixated on you with a predatory gleam in his eye. You hear a low growl rumbling from the wolf hybrid behind you, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked close to your sensitive ear, and then a deafening shot. You flinch and scream violently, hands flying to your ears in a desperate attempt to cover them, but the damage is already done—your ears ring painfully as you crouch down, overwhelmed by the unbearable noise, tears collecting in your lash line.

It takes a moment for your senses to return, and when they do, you realise the wolf hybrid is crouched beside you, his legs brushing yours, his hands gently rubbing your upper arms soothingly as he murmurs, “I’m sorry, kitten,” kissing against the top of your head. All while the crocodile’s body lies crumpled on the floor in a growing pool of blood nearby.

You tremble uncontrollably, paralysed by fear, your mind struggling and utterly unable to process what happened around you. But the wolf hybrid doesn’t seem to care, helping you back up to your feet, brushing your soft hair over your shoulder to reveal the burn mark once again.

You barely dare to breathe as he steps away, but when you see him take an iron rod from near the fireplace and hold it in the flames, heating it until it glows angry red-hot, memories of the previous branding flashes through your mind like an alarm. You panic, your breath coming in desperate, frantic gasps. “No, no, no…” you chant quietly, but your body is frozen in place, still paralysed by the overwhelming terror.

The wolf hybrid, unfazed to the core, pulls the rod from the fire and walks towards you. Just before the hot metal touches your skin, branding you over the old mark, you hear his voice growl behind you, cold and final, “You’re mine now.”

You scream until your ears begin to bleed, your voice tearing through your throat as you collapse onto the cold, hard floor, the world around you fading into a welcoming, merciful blackness.

masterlist • 2

a/n 3: hope you enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for this fic 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024 taglist: @jksusawife, @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @justjkkkkk, @staytinyville, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @ericawantstoescape, @mjuser, @sp1derk0ok, @fluttershyvanilla

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[yevmarie]

My Angel. My Devil.

Pairing: Scud x Female Reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, terribly written smut, unprotected piv, swearing, drug use (by reader as well), bad English (not my first language).

A/N: well, it's my first time in writing smut in English (as if it could be better if I wrote in my first languages, lol). So, if this post is deleted after some time, just know that I felt cringey. YOLO.

You lost count of which round it was as your consciousness had left your brain as soon as you took the first hit. You were rolling your hips on top of a whimpering overstimulated mess called Scud lying half-upright on the couch of your tiny apartment in the warehouse where you worked for Blade. Scud's arms are weakly holding your hips, the head is fallen back on the throw pillows, and some of the hair strands are stuck to his sweaty pretty fucked out face. His eyes are half closed, mouth babbling something inaudible, that used to be pleadings an hour ago.

This evening could've been the same as others if Scud hadn't offered you pot again while you both were working on the tech stuff Blade needed so much for his next mission.

“How the hell can you work stoned?” you asked irritated as this kind of ‘ritual’ when the guy offered you smoking was always repeating day after day. And your answer was always 'no'.

“C’mon baby, you’re always so tense and serious. Why don’t you let yourself relax?” Scud answered in a muffled drawl keeping a blunt between his lips while he was soldering a circuit.

And the reason for it was having a really bad crush on him. A workplace romance wasn’t what you planned as Blade paid you much. So a one-time stand with the colleague you fell for was strictly forbidden by yourself. But your pretty obvious ignoring attitude wasn’t helping, let’s say it was even encouraging for Scud. And today was the day you completely gave up. That was true you needed to unwind.

“I want to relax but after I finish programming these microcontrollers,” you sighed concentrating on the code you wrote.

“You’re always saying so,” you heard his desperate and upset voice which you couldn’t handle anymore.

“8:00 PM at my apartment, snacks on you,” you replied after several minutes of silence between you both.

“Hell yeah!” he answered happily, “Baby Scud knows how to relax. You won’t regret it, sweety.”

You were ignoring him though you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The rest of the workday you were just only thinking how to quickly spend time with him and send him out of your room until the worst happens.

At 8:00 PM sharp you heard knocks at your door. Opening it you saw smirking Scud holding shopping bags full of food.

“Have you robbed the supermarket? This is the week ration for a family of three,” you said gesturing the man to come in.

“That’s literally us with B,” he winked and went further into the apartment where a big couch and a massive coffee table were standing in front of the wall where some music videos were projected. The room was also lit by a dull light bulb from the kitchenette.

“Don’t be so grumpy, Y/N. Lemme help you switch off,” he put the bags on the coffee table and put out a cigarette case and a lighter from his jeans pockets. “And I don’t know what you like, so…”

You went past Scud and sat down on the couch inviting him to join you.

“Video games, cartoons, films? Any preferences?” you asked looking at the guy picking out a blunt from the case and passing it to you.

“This is your evening, you choose,” he grinned watching you picking the blunt in your fingers and placing it between your lips. Seconds after he lit the blunt and you made a light drag not to cough immediately. You held your breath to let the weed do its work and passed the blunt back to Scud.

“Then let’s watch a film,” you said exhaling and took a remote control to choose one.

You slightly leaned back to the table to light another blunt. Taking a hit you held your breath and leaned forward turning to Scud. You hooked his choker with your finger and pulled his face to yours while you started riding him again. He opened his eyes just a bit, his mouth agape. You leaned closer so your lips barely touched his and slowly puffed the smoke into his mouth. He was inhaling while you felt his cock twitching inside you. You let his choker and laid your arms on his shoulder for steadiness and continued sliding up and down his length. A small whimper left Scud’s mouth.

“Fuck, I love you.”

“You’re high,” you let out an obscene moan feeling you are about to reach your climax.

“Jeez…” Scud suddenly grabbed you tightly to lay you on your back and started thrusting into you.

“Sc…” your mouth was immediately covered with his lips and tongue kissing and licking you sloppily. His thrusts became faster hitting your sweet spot each time. Scud feeling you clenching around him uncontrollably put his thumb on your clit to draw circles applying just perfectly enough pressure.

You started clawing into his back overwhelmed with sensation when suddenly your body exploded with unbearable excitement. Everything became dull, blurred. It’s dinging in your ears, the heart is pumping so fast you thought it would break your ribcage, your whole body is trembling. You were suffocating, drowning in the waves of pleasure.

Almost passing out after your release you felt a sudden emptiness followed by Scud’s moans. Through your half-opened eyes, you saw a lewd scene: panting Scud rolled his head back, his chest heaving, his left hand squizzing the throw pillow, his right arm was tensed as he was stroking himself letting out strings of his warm cum on your lower belly. The scene that you imagined so many times during lonely evenings pleasing yourself. After he finished he plopped himself on the couch and pulled your weak body on top of himself.

“You’ll get dirty,” you said in a tired voice only earning a chuckle from him.

“Let it be the worst thing between us, babe,” he kissed your swollen lips passionately caressing your hair and your back.

[teasemates]

Morning wood

Fic by suometar @camaro-and-smokes

Here's one for @hawkinsmafia whose request was "Hey Billy, can you grab a pic of Steve’s morning wood for us?"

::::::::::

The request was supposed to be an easy one to fill. Just take a pic of Steve’s morning wood. It was among the easier ones on the list.

“How am I supposed to do that?” Billy asked.

“What if I take it myself and we just say it was taken by you?” Steve suggested.

“They would know. Just think about it. There’s no way you can take a pic from an angle like that of yourself. The moment you wake up enough it starts to...you know. You know that. It would require preparing the night before, setting up a camera and planning angles and all that. And we don’t have a camera, so you’d have to use your phone.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow, amused. “You sound pretty eager to sacrifice yourself for it. To come into my room in the morning, first thing, and take a dick pic?”

Billy grimaced and felt his cheeks warming up. “I’m not particularly happy about it, but how else would I do it? I’m open to suggestions.”

The truth was that Billy had been itching to see Steve’s dick in full mast for quite a while. He’d seen a hint of its size one morning when he’d been already up and Steve had come to the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. They’d been out the whole previous night and Billy was probably just as hungover as Steve, but Steve always slept long on his free days. Anyway, it had caught Billy’s eye, even though he of course looked away as soon as he realized what he’d been looking at. It hadn’t been stiff anymore but the chubbiness in Steve’s briefs left little to imagination; he was packing.

This realization definitely hadn’t helped with his crush at Steve. In fact, it had made it deepen and also added the new layer of having sexual thoughts about him to it. To the point that the embarrassing wet dreams had returned.

The worst was that as far as he knew Steve was very much straight. He hadn’t seen Steve with any girls, or at least he hadn’t brought any with him home. But he was fairly certain Steve leaned only that one way. Billy had been happy to remain only as friends with him, though. If that was all he’d ever get, then at least he had that. But now it was all different.

He’d been thinking of finding ways to learn if he ever had a chance in hell with Steve. He’d found this one camboy on Onlyfans who, yes, had dark brown hair, brown eyes and a lean built—he could admit he had a type—he’d been now following for a month or so after his revelation with somewhat satisfactory results. It was never the real deal of course, but it was close enough. Anyway, when the camboy had declared on his social media that he was quitting his day job and doing Onlyfans for living, Billy had realized that they could try that too. Solid income from just doing a short video or snapping a photo. And they wouldn’t have to do anything but solo stuff. But even still, it would maybe bring them closer together and maybe even…well, maybe he’d eventually find out what he wanted.

So it wasn’t that Billy wasn’t more than willing to do the request. Knowing that Steve knew the pic was being taken was what made it difficult.

Steve scratched his chin. “I guess there’s really no other option. Just come into my room in the morning and...”

“Uh, yeah. Wanna let me know when you...you know, have one? I mean, I’m up probably anyway before you, so...”

“Eh, sure. Sure. I’ll do that.”

It was a few days later when it happened. Billy was having his morning coffee and on his phone, scrolling through the comments on their OF account, when Steve cleared his throat in the doorway.

Steve was blushing and he rubbed his neck with his hand. “Uh...um...You wanna, eh...take the pic?”

Billy lowered his gaze to look and... The way Steve shuffled his feet told Billy he knew he was looking. And that his eyes were probably wide and that he was blushing, too.

The tenting in Steve’s briefs was big. Definitely bigger than what Billy had, no doubt about it.

He felt his mouth go dry, and he spurred into action. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone and followed Steve to his room.

Steve’s room was facing east and it had a nice view to the park, so the morning sun was shining through the window and straight onto Steve’s bed.

“Where do you want me?” Steve asked.

Billy was certain Steve hadn’t thought about his choice of words too much, but he still couldn’t keep entirely straight face. “Maybe on the bed? In the sun.” He opened the camera app of his phone and was determined to not look until Steve was ready. It was then when he realized that he was about to take a photo of Steve’s dick with his own phone. “Eh, want me to take this with your phone?”

“Oh, right. Yeah,” Steve said, taking his phone from the nightstand. After unlocking it he gave it to Billy.

Billy fumbled with it, almost dropping it when Steve took his briefs off and sat on the bed.

His dick had both the length and the girth. It had to be at least eight inches long, and Billy wasn’t sure if his fingers would’ve reached around it. The shaft had thick veins running on the front and on its sides, and the head was a bit pointy, not too much though, and it was deliciously swollen.

God, it was so, so pretty.

Billy imagined how silky and heavy it would feel on his tongue and felt himself grow hard. “Wow,” he heard himself say. “Uh, I mean,” he rushed to add,” that’s impressive.”

Steve blushed even more. “Thanks.” He shifted in his seat and leaned on the headboard, spreading his legs a little so that his dick was leaning against his left thigh, and his sack resting nicely between his legs. “Uh, is this position okay?”

Billy felt ridiculous amount of arousal from the simple change of position. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he squeaked, aiming at Steve’s groin and centering it in the camera’s finder. The shutter sound confirmed the splendor being immortalized not only to Steve’s camera roll but also to Billy’s personal spank bank. He showed the pic to Steve. “What do you think?”

“It’s my dick...What do you think?”

Billy blinked idly for a moment. He knew the question was a simple one and not what his mind immediately went to, and he had to put in a real effort not just to blurt out what he was really thinking, to choose his words carefully. Which was hard, considering that let me suck it and let me sit on it were first in line to roll out.

He thought of the delicious way it would split him open, enter him achingly slow. It would stretch him deliciously and make him moan and let out incoherent words until it was in to the hilt. With every thrust he’d probably feel it all the way up in his throat.

Or if he’d suck it, it would force his mouth wide open to accommodate it. Filling it to the brim, making him unable to think about anything else. Pushing to the back of his mouth, making him gag and choke. Spit to spurt out from the sides of his mouth and his nose, tears pushing through from the corners of his eyes. Making him a beautiful mess.

And still he’d try to take more of it, all of it. He’d want to have his nose pressed against the dark bush of hair in the root of it. Have his hair tugged and his head kept in place while he was mouth-fucked with that monster. Perversely used, perfectly and blissfully out of control.

He’d listen to the moans and gasps, breathless words praising him taking it so well, and he’d do exactly that, take all of it. Get hard from those words alone, leaking to his own briefs. He’d have to grab his dick while tears and drool and precum would mix all over his cheeks and jaw, dripping on his neck and chest. He’d jerk himself in the same pace with the face-fucking and when the warm, salty load would hit his throat, he’d finish himself off with pathetic moans formed around the still pulsing cock in his mouth…

He snapped out of his reverie, feeling hot all over. Steve was looking at him with a shy smile. “It’s, uh...i–it’s great,” he stammered awkwardly, put Steve’s phone on his desk and left the room, beelining to his own room.

He sat on his bed and pulled his now aching dick from his briefs, not having to jerk it for long before he came. He fell on his back on the bed and grimaced, closing his eyes. “Oh god,” he thought, “this is so bad.”

Later they were in the living room, Billy sitting on the floor and playing on his PS4 and Steve doing something on his laptop on the couch.

“I’m going to upload the pic now,” Steve said. “Wanna see?”

Billy paused the game and sat next to Steve. Maybe a bit too close, he wasn’t sure, because their thighs brushed against each other. But Steve didn’t flinch, so it had to be okay.

It was ridiculous how many things Billy nowadays thought way too much just because he had a crush on Steve. If it was okay to sit like this, the same way they’d sit on this very same couch as long as he could remember whenever he looked at something Steve was working on on his laptop. Or if it was okay to sit in the breakfast table together and not say a word or if he talked too much. If it was okay to do anything that used to be so easy to do when he’d been content on being just friends with Steve.

Or if Steve felt the same way.

Billy frowned. The photo looked a bit different to what he remembered—and he thought he remembered it well. “Did you edit it?” he asked.

“No…” Steve drawled. “Well, just adjusted the light a little. Is it ok?”

“Yeah. No, yeah, it’s okay,” Billy rushed to answer. He scolded himself because he knew he’d already said too much with the question alone.

Steve smiled and chuckled. “Alright.”

Billy watched as Steve uploaded the photo, wrote a caption to it with the request and posted it.

Steve glanced at him. “You know, it’s okay. I mean in the morning, when you took the photo.”

Billy felt his cheeks heating. His first thought was that Steve knew. That Steve had looked and seen his arousal. Billy looked at Steve who was staring at the keyboard. “What is?” he asked cautiously.

Steve didn’t say anything for a good while, but his cheeks turned rosy pink. “It was kinda fun. You know, having my pic taken like that. I’ve ever only taken a…” he paused and chuckled nervously, “I’ve only taken a dick pic myself.”

Billy laughed, relieved. “Well, yeah. It’s not something you’d probably do unless… you know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Maybe…next time it’ll be easier.”

Billy smirked. “Maybe you can take my pic next time.”

_ _ _

This is Billy's and Steve's Onlyfans RP account. Billy and Steve are "running" the account, the team behind it is Aggressiveviking & Suometar. Feel free to play into or out of the rp in any way you like, all interactions are welcome 💕💕💕

[porcelainseashore]

Teenage Headache Dreams (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: High School! College! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Fem! Reader

Summary: You’re a bored, but ambitious high school student who can’t wait to escape small town life and make it in the big city. You thought you had it all figured out, until you unwittingly befriend the resident golden boy, Leon. A series of events beginning from junior year to college until Resident Evil 2 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Content: High School AU, College AU, Pre-Resident Evil 2, Fluff, Romance, Cliche, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Lack of Communication

Author's Note: This is my first RE / Leon fic, but I wanted to try my hand at writing this little self-indulgent and potentially clichéd series. As you can guess, I love dance and high school dramas. I also created this with a sequel in mind, which will take place post-RE4R and involve more horror and mystery elements.

Title from Teenage Headache Dreams by Mura Masa and Ellie Rowsell / Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Friendship

It was one of those beautiful late summer days with endless light and clear blue skies overhead. You leaned back against the bleachers, feeling the sun cast a warm glow on your face and the sultry breeze against your skin, sighing in utter bliss. The football field and the running track surrounding it were completely empty, just how you liked it, silent except for the relentless trilling of insects and the occasional bird that flew by. No one in your face, no one judging you or telling you how you should be like, no one you had to put up a front for. Just peace and quiet. A place where you could sit alone with your thoughts - and you had a lot of them - mostly about leaving this goddamn small town with its insular, mind-numbing inhabitants.

A trail of thick smoke wafted from your mouth as you took a drag from the joint you had been nursing for awhile. You weren’t exactly high as a kite, but you were definitely feeling some of its effects. You chuckled and gave a wry smile as the thought of being caught red-handed visualized in your mind. Sure, it was highly illegal what you were doing, much less on school property, but you were always a bit of a rebel. And frankly, you couldn’t give a shit. It was already August, but most students were still away on holiday. Not you though, you had to work on your extracurriculars. That’s what you had put your mind to this summer. No fancy beach getaways like the rest of your cheerleading mates had jetted off to. Just a grueling dance intensive and showcase you had auditioned successfully for in one of the larger cities nearby, as well as a bunch of campus visits. You needed to perfect your performance technique for that arts college application coming up in about a year’s time. You started way earlier than the rest even thought about it, because you knew you only had one chance for a one-way ticket out of this hole and you sure as hell weren’t taking any chances. Well, except with that funky smelling thing in your hand. 

No one would be here anyway, it’s a Sunday for crying out loud! You shook your head in exasperation. Besides, you needed to relax and take the edge off a little.

Just as if you jinxed it with those thoughts, you heard the gate to the field unlocking and creaking open behind you. 

Shit, shit, shit! Your eyes darted around frantically, but your movements were just so slow. Why the fuck would someone be here now?

Before you could drop the joint and stub it out with your shoe, a mop of dirty blonde hair and what you made out as someone dressed in a blue tracksuit with a duffel bag slung over his right shoulder entered your peripheral vision. It was soon accompanied by a sharp twist of his head in your direction, bangs falling over his deep blue eyes and you knew he had found the source of the offending smell, probably even from a mile away. His gaze trailed their way from your startled face to your joint hanging limply at the edge of your fingers and then back to your face again. His expression turned from confusion to a frown and then into a knowing smirk as he crossed his arms and leaned against the bleachers.

“Oh, hello. Didn’t expect to see you here. You got cheer practice or something?”

God, he was teasing you. At least you hoped that was all it was and not some form of blackmail. Well, no point hiding now.

“I’m off-duty,” you retorted. You tried to jog your memory of the boy standing in front of you. You were social, or at least you had to be with the rest of your girlfriends to keep up appearances, but you never really bothered with the people here beyond superficial conversations. Then you finally found it - a vague recollection of last season’s track and field meet. He had been one of the better sprinters, maybe the best even, you can’t really remember. There was an afterparty, and you congratulated him, but you doubt there was anything more substantive than that.

“Leon, isn’t it?”

His eyes perked up slightly and he smiled. “In the flesh.”

You snorted at his cheesy reply. What was he pulling? 

“They gave you the key?” It almost sounded as if you were jealous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his duffel bag on one of the benches in front of him, rummaging through its contents. “Yeah, I got a comp in the new term coming up.” Every now and then he glanced up at you, as if he wanted to ask something, but stopped himself.

A sense of boldness surged within you, as you felt like evening the odds a bit. “What? You want some?” You waved the joint in his face.

That certainly caught his attention. He stared for a good moment, before giving another one of his playful smiles and shaking his head. “Maybe after practice.” He unzipped his jacket and put it away. It was warm enough to train in his sports tank and as you admired the lean, muscular structure of his arms and shoulders now bared open, you couldn’t complain.

“So, how did you get in?”

Fuck. You snapped out of your reverie. He got you there, but you didn’t feel like lying. “Jumped the fence. You should try it some time.” You replied as nonchalantly as possible.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he laughed.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Will I now?” The way it rolled off his tongue felt like a challenge and you secretly enjoyed this banter going on between you, as if you had known each other for years.

Shrugging your shoulders, you took another hit from the joint and let the calmness envelope you. “I never disappoint.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Leon flashed a wide grin that made you feel a knot forming in your stomach, but you didn’t know why. 

He started to move towards the tracks, but stopped short, turning back to meet your eyes again. “Look, you don’t have to worry about all of that.” He gestured to what you were holding and the general surroundings. “I’m not going to tell.” With that, he made a sign that resembled crossing his heart. “It’ll be between you and me.” 

You would have thought it was a joke if not for the sincere look he gave you, before heading off to train. That, and the fact that he did indeed take up your offer to join you afterwards in sharing what was left of the joint. You didn’t expect someone like him to. He seemed a bit too much of a straight-laced, golden boy for that. But then again, life was filled with surprises and you quietly scolded yourself for playing into stereotypes again - something you despise others doing to you.

It prompted both of you to converse even more until the late evening where you even missed your dinner. The questions and responses just flowed.

It turned out that you would share a number of classes together in the new term, specifically Math, History and Biology. Leon was a real earful when it came to his “insightful” one-liners on the teachers, which made you bury your head in your hands and groan. You never realized he would be such a goofball, but you found it somewhat endearing.

Like you, he was popular at school, but unlike you, he seemed to enjoy the company and appeared to be an open book. He would say it how it is, sometimes to the point of being blunt to a fault. Still, you guessed people found him rather easy-going and likable, in a non-threatening sort of a way. A part you wondered if chance meetings like today were how he made most of his friends.

Leon didn’t really have a plan for college yet. He just knew he wanted to do something good and help other people. You had a word for it - “idealistic”. He just shrugged in response, eyes downcast, until you assured him that it was an admirable quality, and you were the jaded one. He made a toast to your future in some arts college in the big city with his water bottle, remarking with a hint of self-deprecation that he wished he had a clearer idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

In turn, he asked you about your dealer. You had to stifle a laugh at that one. Generally, you weren’t as big into smoking up as he thought, but this time you bummed it off one of the seniors as a favor he owed you for hooking him up with one of your cheerleader friends. It didn’t stop Leon from calling you the “high school’s little pothead” every now and then though. He peered at you intently with his lip curled in amusement, as you rolled your eyes each time.

It had been such a long time since you could joke and speak your mind with someone this way. There wasn’t that suffocating nausea of pretending to be someone else around him and he had been so relaxed with you too. You could finally breathe again, and you’d like to think it wasn’t just the weed talking.

Whatever it was, you guessed this was the beginning of a real friendship - one that happened out of serendipity, but made you feel like you weren’t going to rot away in this small town. Well, not alone anyway.

[elliespillowprincess]

SHES MY DRUG

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pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

a/n: this is my first ever (kinda) fic so it kinda sucks and is all over the place.. rockstar/band ellie has been on my mind too much lately so yk i had to.

c/w: modern au, reader is in college (premed), biker ellie!!! smut!, reader/ellie are high/drunk during sex, cum eating, fingering (r!receiving) mentions of smoking, drinking and drugs (reader and ellie), angst :(, fem reader, plus size reader, insecure reader, fluff, race of reader not specified, TERRIBLY WRITTEN, not proofread

WHY YOU SHOULD NOT SUPPORT NEIL DRUCKMANN

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the next morning, you wake up unsure of where you are. you look around the room, its messy and there’s clothes, food, and drinks everywhere. you lift your head and look to the right and see none other, than ellie williams.

what the fuck happened last night?

you look down, noticing you aren’t wearing the clothes you chose yesterday. you’re wearing her fucking merch, no shorts on. she’s sleeping softly, her head pressed into the pillow.

did the two of you fuck last night?

you attempt to get out of bed silently, as to not wake up the girl next to you. standing up, you try to look for your clothes so you’re at least a little covered up. you see your phone on the table, and a million text messages appear on the screen as you wake it.

lili😦: where are u?

dude i saw abby

u ok?

when did you slip away?

where are you

hello???

do u have no service?

ur scaring me y/n seriously

please answer me

im going to security

they told me you left with ellie williams????

wtf??

HELLO??

your stomach sinks as your haze ellie had over you caused you to not think straight. “fuckkkkk!!” you curse yourself, starting to type quickly.

you: omg i’m so so sorry lili

i didn’t mean to scare u

i saw abby she was saying all kinds of shit to me

i’m okay though ill be home soon

we’ll talk then ok?

you set your phone down and begin searching for the rest of your things. tripping over the bottles on the floor. as you’re about to leave, you look over at ellie. quickly, you grab a tissue and write a note for her on it. sorry, i have to go!! here’s my number if u want it? (xxx)-(xxx)-(xxxx).

“where the hell did you go?? i was so worried dude!!” lili shouts at you. you can tell she wasn’t really mad, just more concerned. you guys never go anywhere without telling each other. you have each others locations, but you absentmindedly turned it off while drunk last night. after leaving the hotel, you called an uber and headed home.

“lili im sorry, people were rude at the concert and i went to get some air!!” you defend yourself. “air? how did you end up with her? she’s trouble, y/n. did you guys fuck? were you sober?” you place both hands on your face, trying to clear your mind. “no, we just, cuddled? i don’t know.” liliana takes a deep sigh before pulling you into a tight hug. “just.. don’t do it again. you really scared me.” hugging her back, the two of you decided to go out to lunch and enjoy your day off of no classes.

“did you hear what happened with that camilla chick?” the two of you had been gossiping over your now cold soup for hours. talking about whatever drama was currently happening in your small town. suddenly, you get a text.

???: hey pretty girl.

your eyes widen and liliana immediately starts asking questions, being nosy. “what? who is it? what’d they say?? bitch tell me i can’t read your face!!” you smile as you say in shock, “it’s ellie williams!!” liliana lets out a gasp with you as she leans over the table, trying to see what she said. you turn your phone around when another text buzzes on your phone. “WOAH!!! bitch she really wants you!!” you flip around the phone to see what the girl texted you next.

???: where’d you run off to? reached for u this morning n u weren’t there

your face immediately turns a shade of pink. how is this happening? how many girls who hookup with her get a text the next day? you two didn’t even hook up!! you begin typing on your phone, more excited now. “what are you gonna say?” liliana asks you. “ummm… what should i say?” you keep typing and deleting texts, overthinking it. “ask her to hangout! you know, when you guys are sober?”

you: hey i’m so sorry!

my friend was really worried about me

i was with her and disappeared n didn’t respond

it doesn’t take long before the bubbles appear on your screen once again, a message appearing. you decide to change her contact name.

ellie🤭: don’t worry abt it

u free today?

heard there was a party on 97th tn? dk where that is

“she just basically invited me to a party! what do i say??” you look up at liliana, waiting for her to make a decision for you. “if you don’t go, ill kill you.” you weren’t a big party person in general, especially not on nights when you had an 8 am class the next day. “i don’t know, i have to wake up early tomorrow..” “she’s probably leaving town tomorrow, this might be your last chance! cmon you’re dumb if you don’t go.” you sigh, replying to her.

you: yeah i’m free!

nathan’s parties r always pretty good, he’s part of the richest family here

it was seconds before another reply came in.

ellie🤭: send me your address

picking u up at 8

it was 7:34, you’re adding touches to your makeup. you’re extremely nervous, i mean who wouldn’t be? you were about to hangout with a rockstar! you wanted to make a better impression than last night. applying a final layer of lipgloss, you look at yourself in the mirror. having asked for liliana’s help once again, you find yourself in a similar outfit to the night before. you’re wearing a pair of low rise jeans, another leather jacket to keep you warm, and her shirt. you dreaded washing it because it had the musk of cigarettes, weed, and her cologne. was it too bold to wear her shirt? probably. you tied it in the back, making it look tighter and shorter.

walking to the fridge, you grab a seltzer and wait for ellie’s text indicating she was there. plopping on the couch, liliana walks in. “look at you!! you’re bold as fuck for wearing her shirt, it looks good!” she says, sitting down next to you. “just make sure you leave your location on okay? and give me updates when you can.” you didn’t mind how much she checks on you, knowing you do the same thing. “i will, don’t worry.” the two of you talk mindlessly until you get a text.

ellie🤭: here

your heart skips a beat, and you quickly get up, grabbing your bags. walking to the front door, you take a deep breath as liliana walks behind you, waiting to lock the door after you leave. “it’ll be fun, don’t worry.”

“holy shit. you look gorgeous.” ellie says as you walk to her bike. you blush nervously as she hands you her helmet, helping you on. she’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans, paired with another one of her merch shirts. does she never get cold? “look at you! you look amazing.”

after speeding through cars, you arrive at the party. she helps you off and locks both of the helmets in her seat, grabbing your hand and leading you into the party. you were shocked at her straightforwardness, and partially worried that someone would recognize her. she notices your discomfort on your face, and asks you, “what’s wrong?” she asks, turning to you, stopping the two of you just before you step into the house. “nothing! jus worried people are gonna flock to you.” she smiles. “im only performing one song for them, ill make sure you’re right upfront ‘kay?” you smile softly and nod, following her into the house.

“next up, we got ellie williams!!” you hear the familiar voice of nathan say. “follow me.” she guides you to the front, pushing people aside to make sure you get the best view before she stands on the make-shift stage. she looks slightly annoyed, but grabs a guitar, tuning it and starting to play. cold heaven. you recognize the song as one she played at the festival the day prior. she’s strumming, singing, all while looking at you. it felt like a fantasy, it felt like the two of you were the only people in that room. girls were screaming and offering her drinks, to which she ignored. you just watched her, watched how her long fingers strummed the guitar effortlessly. how sweat dripped down her forehead. how her mouth remained opened in between lyrics.

she was hot.

your stomach began feeling warm as you sipped on whatever seltzer you found in the fridge of the house. the room felt fuzzy. the finished the song with a loud “thank you everyone!”, waving off the stage to find you. you wiggled your way out of the crowd, looking for ellie. that’s when you saw her, looking around for you when her eyes laid on yours, her face lighting up. she walks up to you, wrapping her arm around the small of your back. everything she did was so forward, but it also felt respectful.

“wanna get outta here?”

that’s how you ended up in your bedroom, sharing a blunt between the two of you on your bed. the room is filled with smoke. liliana had headed out for the night after you texted her that you were heading home, she knew. “whatcha looking at mama?” you hear ellie say. you were lost in a trance of her, admiring every little freckle on her face. her voice was raspy, and she was analyzing your expressions. “nothin’, jus you.” you smile at her. she inches closer to you, leaning in. “just me?”. her tone, her expressions, her hair falling perfectly, her hands inching closer, smoke entering your nose, everything is too much. you can’t control yourself, and the mix of alcohol and weed causes you to become confident. you lean in and grab her neck with both hands, placing a deep kiss on her lips.

what the fuck? why did you just do that? you barely know her! she probably gets girls begging for this constantly.

you’re just another girl.

she pulls you back, and looks at you closely. “are you sure? we don’t have to do anything.” you look at her, surprised at her even asking. you eagerly nod your head, looking at her expectantly. she puts the still lit joint into the ashtray next to your bed. “use your words, princess.” you grabbed her hands and placed them on your cheeks, rubbing your face into them. “yes els, i’m sure.” she smiles at you before placing a slow, soft kiss on your lips. you moan into the kiss, crawling to sit on her lap, straddling her.

she moved so she was against the headboard, with you on her lap. her long hands were wrapped around the small of your waist, pulling you closer, grinding you on her jeans. the room becomes more and more hot, your jeans begging to come off. “please…” you mumble between the kiss. she pushes your hair out of your face, “what was that baby? gotta tell me what you want.” she dips her head down, leaving marks along your neck and jaw. “fingers, mouth, you please..” you mumble incoherently. she lifts her head up, looking at you intently. “are you sure?” she asks, waiting for your response.

“more than sure.”

she lays you down on your back. she crawls on top of you. gently kissing your collarbone with your hands tangled in her hair. she gently removes your jacket, then your jeans. she takes a step back to admire you. “so fucking pretty. gonna fuck you in my shirt sound good baby?” she says, reaching under your back and unclipping your bra with ease. you can only moan in response. she lifts your- her shirt slightly so she can get a view of your boobs. air blows out of her lips when she sees them, immediately suckling onto the right bud, massaging the other. “oh fuckkk.. els..!!” you hold onto her head. she lifts her head slightly to say “is my girl sensitive?” before dipping back down to suck on the left one. my girl? did she really think of you that way?

you feel her lips travel down your stomach until her mouth is kissing the inner part of your thigh, getting close but not quite where you wanted her. you start to squirm and beg her to hurry up. “ellie please.. i need you.” she looks up at you, then down at your lacy underwear, noticing the wet spot. “let’s not waste any time then yeah? lift those hips for me.” you comply as she pulls down your underwear, immediately attacking your dripping cunt. it feels like an electric shock; the way her tongue laps at your clit, drawing circles. her skill immediately makes your back arch as you moan her name loudly. your hands are tangled in her hair as her middle finger prods at your hole, slowly slipping inside. her finger is so deep inside of you, and the feeling of her finger exiting, entering, curling, and repeating makes your pupils become blown and your vision to blur. when she adds a second finger, it’s over.

your legs are fighting to stay open and not crush her head, she’s pumping in and out of you while sloppily making out with your clit. the air smells like weed and sex, and everything is so overwhelming. you have one hand in her hair, and one gripping the sheets. she reaches up to hold your hand in hers as she fucks you fast and passionately. the intimacy from her holding your hand and moaning into your clit makes you dizzy. you feel so full of her. you feel the rope in your stomach become tighter and tighter, until you can’t hold it anymore. “ellie!! els m’gonna cum!” you babble out, tears brimming your eyes.

“give it to me, cum on my fingers, you can do it.” she somehow speeds up her pace, looking up at you and seeing how you begin to fall apart. you look down, and when you see her, everything comes loose. your orgasm rips through you as you scream her name; ears ringing, vision going white, body trembling. she fucks you through your orgasm, until you start squirming away. she places kisses along your thighs as you breathe heavily. then, she gets up without a word, going to the bathroom.

“where are you going?” you ask curiously, half expecting her to just leave. “where are your rags?” she’s rummaging through your drawers and before you can tell her where, she turns on the faucet, wetting the rag. “found it!” the water turns off and she walks up to you, still spread out on your bed, and cleans you up. you begin whimpering from the sensitivity, trying to push her away. “i know honey, just let me clean you up okay?” all of this felt too much like a relationship. sure, you’ve had plenty one night stands with people you barely knew, but this was different. she spent the time after to clean you up, kiss you, and tell you how amazing you did. you start feeling bad, wanting to return the favor. you try to pull her jeans down, when she looks up and asks you what you’re doing. “wanna make you feel good.” you tell her.

“you already did.”

after cleaning you, she puts the rag away in your hamper, crawling on the bed to cuddle with you. she admires your hickeys on your neck, and kisses them gently. you inch closer to curl into her body. “are you gonna change?” you ask her. “nah, i’m too comfy right now. hey do you wanna go get breakfast in the morning?” you look partially confused. asking, “don’t you have to leave soon? i mean, you’re still on tour no?” she smiles at you, brushing the hair from your face. “i leave at noon tomorrow.” you pout, hoping she’d stay a little longer. but what did you expect? she has her priorities. “yeah, okay. we can go.” she pulls you in closer, pulling the comforter over you to make sure you stay warm. she leans in and places a soft kiss on your forehead, causing you to drift off to sleep.

you’re riding on the back of ellie’s bike, again, speeding through the city. it’s 10:56, and the thought of this dream ending makes your stomach hurt. you’re wearing a simple outfit: jeans and a hoodie, while ellie borrowed some of yours. you arrive at the diner you’ve been to countless amounts of times living here, and hop off her bike, following her in. the two of you sit at a table, admiring one another. “do you really have to go?” you ask out of the blue. “i wish i could stay. i mean, you could always come with me?” she asks, looking at you with expectant eyes. you really wanted to go with her, but you couldn’t miss so much school. “i want to, i really do. just with school and everything..” you trail off, ellie looking slightly hurt. the rest of the meal it’s quieter; not uncomfortably but just quiet. she pays the bill, reaching her hand out to walk you out. as soon as you think you got through the meal without her getting recognized, you were wrong. a girl runs up to her, begging for a photo and an autograph. you watch the way ellie holds the girl around the waist as one of the waitresses takes the photo.

you feel sick to your stomach. why were you so jealous? i mean, you guys technically aren’t anything.

you awkwardly stand there, waiting for them to finish. when they do, she just walks out, holding the door for you. the two of you hop on her bike, heading for your house. she stops the bike, taking her helmet off and watches you get off. you take your helmet off, and go to hand it to her. “keep it, for next time.” she smiles, pulling you in for a deep kiss. next time? she smiles into the kiss, pulling you deeper. you feel like you’re floating. “you have to text me, okay? don’t go forgetting about me.” she says with a coy smile. “how could i?” she smiles at you before kissing you deeply one more time. you can’t help but think, what is this? what are you guys? will she be back? she places the helmet back on her head once again, starting her bike back up. she revs the handle as you watch her drift away. “bye!” you shout softly, but she couldn’t hear you.

will she be back?

sorry this was so short it just needed a little cliff hanger😣😣 pt 3 coming very soon!!!

[cemeteryspider]

It's Called: Freefall

Hazbin Lucifer x Archangel! Reader

Summary: You freefall...

Trigger Warning: Isolation, rejection, and suicidal themes (listen to the song this is based off of)

Word Count: 1120

When you called your old friend Lucifer, you didn't expect to meet him in a quiet human coffee house with a few humans going in and out. Your heart pounded in your chest as you as across from him. Innocently he pushed a latte towards you with a weak smile.

You reciprocate the gesture with an eager smile, the warmth of the coffee cup seeping through your fingers. As the bitter liquid danced on your taste buds, he seized the moment to pose the first question.

"Why did you ask me here?" After many years, hearing his voice was music to your ears.

"Not sure, maybe I want you to pull me down to Hell with you"

His eyes narrowed, a subtle frown forming on his lips as your words hung in the air. Desperate to diffuse the tension, you forced a laugh, but the weight of his gaze lingered.

"Maybe you would make it easy and offer me cigarettes, dominos, or rum" You teased.

"Not only sundowns, Sundays, Christmas for me" Though a joke no laughter came from him.

"I just needed an old friend. I could never hope to keep the new seraphim as friends. I tried to give them what I thought that they wanted, never could they be such a good friend as you've been"

"Come on, Y/n, don't get me venting on friends that resent you. All I've ever been is a noose to hang onto, reckless I fell into Hell where I hang with nothing and no one"

Your hand found him from across the table, "I could follow you..."

"Even the devil needs time alone sometimes" In a blink he was gone with a puff of smoke.

~~~

When you returned to Heaven you allowed yourself to sink the floor of your bedroom. Allowing tears to flow from your eyes down your cheeks.

Your "friends" never listened to your ideas, and shot them down at every chance they had. Adam had shunned you from the court after his private meeting with Sera about your sympathies with the devil.

Angel's avoided you and human souls steered clear of your wake.

The weight of rejection and isolation pressed on your shoulders, tempting you to abandon the celestial realm that had turned its back on you. The thought of leaving it all behind gained momentum within your conflicted heart.

You could let it all go.

You could let it all go.

It's called freefall.

You started writing to Lucifer about your plans.

It's called freefall

~~~

Days turned into a slow, agonizing wait before a black envelope, delivered with an impatient huff from Sera, found its way into your hands.

Still, the red seal made you giddy with excitement. However, after opening the letter you soon understood that you shouldn't have opened it.

Dearest, Y/n

Stop. Do not talk like that. You shouldn't fall. I can't even be bothered with this, you better handle your shit. Keep about your wits, you know yourself and who I am. The devil isn't a friend to anyone, Y/n.

~Lucifer

Hours turned into agonizing days as you sat amidst the remnants of your torn bedroom, the echo of your screams still reverberating in your ears. Each piece of the room held a memory, a fragment of the friendship that now seemed shattered beyond repair. You scoured your conversations with Lucifer, trying to find the roots of this passive-aggressive letter.

Lucifer was your best friend, and has been for centuries, and never in your life had you imagined him practically disowning you after letting him into your innermost thoughts.

You threw the letter into the burning fireplace in your room stomped your way to Sera, and demanded to be sent to Hell.

Without so much as a trial, which even Lucifer and the other Deadly Sins were allowed, she cursed you and sent you down.

It's called freefall.

It's called freefall.

~~~

As you plummeted, the familiar celestial lights ethereally faded from your view, replaced by a menacing red glow. The once weightless fall morphed into a descent fraught with a hellish heat that seemed to seep into your very bones. The stench of sulfur filled your nose, assaulting your senses with the undeniable reality of your new existence.

You allowed your eyes to close as you imagined your new life. You imagined Lucifer and all the grand ideas you would think up together. The change that you could make in Hell, and maybe eventually Heaven would see. You could see real friendship in your future.

~~~

Despite your continuous knocking at the Devil's door he never bothered to answer. You allowed yourself to curl up near the door, and rest your weary bones.

After a long time you heard the click of boots, and the tumble of a kicked stone growing closer.

A warm hand touched your shoulder, "Hey, what are you doing out this late, it's like 2 am, and nothing's open in Hell, it's a rule I made, anyway" You felt his weight shift as he sat on the stair next to you.

You peered your head above your arms to him. "So, you're still too busy saving everybody else, to save yourself. That's a story to tell"

A surprised look crossed his face when he saw yours. His eyes scanned your body for any injuries, then wrapped his arms around you.

"I told you not to do this, you could've gotten past those feelings. You didn't have to fall", Tears fell his face. He knew the shame and the isolation that came with falling. He knew the sad faces and disappointed looks better than anyone. It was something he never wanted you to experience, and never wanted you to know.

"Hey, let it all out, this is where I'm meant to be, Luci" You pulled his form into yours, and you could feel his shoulders relax in your grip.

His face found solace in the curve of your neck, tears staining your skin as he sought refuge in your embrace. The weight of his remorse hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of compassion and confusion. The tears spoke of a shared pain, a vulnerability you hadn't expected from the mighty Lucifer. As his silent sobs echoed in the infernal air, you grappled with the complexity of emotions that his apology unearthed.

"I'm sorry for what I wrote, I thought if I pushed you away, it wouldn't end up like this", Maybe if he just pushed you away, made you feel as though you could live with the pretentious angels that surrounded you. You wouldn't want to fall.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be here" You promised him. 

[stoutguts]

headcanon rambling/my personal hc for Johnny's backstory bc I think it'd be interesting also I like the idea of Ghoap where the both of them had a shitty childhood bc of an abusive parent and the both of of them hv trauma/I love angst 💕

CW: drug add\ction, s*lf-h*rm/s*icide, parental/child abvse

Soap was born into a big family in the Scottish countryside, being the youngest with 6 older sisters. His father was a deadbeat, and walked out on him at a young age, being effectively raised by his mom and big sisters. Having strong female influences on his life benefited him greatly in the long run, he grew up to be a very well-adjusted, kind, and respectful man (particularly towards women, as he is a staunch feminist (you go Johnny).

However, on the other hand the only true parental figure in his life, his mother, was a horrible person. She was mentally and emotionally abusive, as well as unstable. She would even get physical with her children at times, including Soap. Johnny was also raised Roman Catholic, though today he considers himself agnostic or a flat out atheist. His mother was incredibly homophobic and transphobic and would use religion to justify her bigotry towards him, leading Soap to hating himself and struggling with self-harm and suicidal ideation for years. Particularly, by cutting himself (he has s/h scars all over his thighs, arms, and shoulders). Has attempted at least 10+ times in the past. Not to mention, he did a lot of hard drugs during his middle and high school years to cope with his mother's abuse. (Particularly coke and heroin). He's come incredibly close to ODing on a few occasions. An addict and a total mess, until his sisters intervened and forced him against his will into rehab.

After 2 or so years he was clean and eligible for the military.

He still relapses from time to time (whether it's self-harm or drugs), and when he does its bad. He even still regularly smokes weed to this day, though it's not nearly as bad as some other substances. It's a wonder he hasn't been discharged, (because he doesn’t try to hide it too much), but probably because he's too much of an asset.

Ghost is the one to bring him out of his slumps now. Not minding one bit, as all Simon cares about is Johnny's safety and well-being.

Needless to say, he could never see religion in the same light after that. He’s even quite apprehensive and wary of people whom are religious and religion in general.

He and his mother were never close and soon would never get along with each other, as he’s proud and not the type to even tolerate shit from anyone. It was an almost daily occurrence that he and his mom would fight, particularly when he finally reached his pre-teen/teen years, sometimes evolving into full-blown screaming matches.

Being the protective type of person that he is, most of the time he’d get into fights because of his sisters coming to him about how mom had hit them or made them cry (despite the fact he feels nothing but pure hatred for his mum, he has a very deep bond/connection to each and everyone of his sisters and loves them all dearly).

That was what pissed him off more than anything.

His mom could do whatever she wanted with him, frankly he stopped caring and her cutting words no longer held any weight or meaning to him at some point, and being hit was soon the equivalent to getting bit by a mosquito, he became numb. He didn't know when he stopped feeling, but he did. (He of course wasn't entirely immune, she'd eventually break him). But he was determined to stay strong for his siblings.

Bringing harm upon his sisters? No way in hell that was ever gonna fly, and he didn't care if she was his mother or not.

Johnny naturally grew to resent his mother, and to this day he still calls her a “witch” or a "cunt" instead of his mum. Eventually he’d had enough and couldn’t take his mother’s abuse any longer, (she is half of the reason he went into the military as soon as he possibly could, besides it being a lifelong and childhood dream of his).

He kept in touch with his sisters (and still does), of course, calls them everyday or whenever he gets the chance to let them know he’s alive and well and to see how their doing. Visits when he can or when he’s off duty. Though he completely cut ties with his mother after joining the military,—a couple of his sisters would keep him posted on what was going on with her.

Later on, his mother went to go on to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, and passed shortly thereafter.

He attended the funeral up in Scotland, but mainly for his sisters’ sakes. He actually ended up staying in Scotland for a while after that to provide support for his sisters, (emotional or otherwise), and to try to ease the grieving process. Even though she wasn’t the greatest mom or person in general, it was still a tough loss. Though Soap still didn’t regret cutting her out of his life,—it was fucked up but he was glad that she died in a way, and even visited her grave just once after the funeral, by himself, just so he could spit on it. Maybe even say some things he never was able to say to her, half as retribution and half to just get it off his chest.

Ghost is the only one who knows of Johnny's past and his abusive mother, and is incredibly understanding and gentle about it (as naturally it's a particularly touchy subject). On all official stuff regarding his background, the most it ever details is where he was born or that he was raised Roman Catholic. Not to mention, although Soap is a yapper and almost never shuts up, he’s a very private person and just simply doesn’t like others knowing his business (with the exception of Ghost of course).

Even though Johnny didn’t let his mother’s death bother him regarding the funeral and his prolonged visit to Scotland, when he got back he broke down completely.

He stayed strong for his sisters as he felt like he had to and just as he's always done, but the facade came crashing down once he was in Simon's arms again.

He hated his mum, she didn't really deserve his tears, yet she was still his mum. That fact still reigned true even after everything.

And Ghost was there by his side the whole time. Hell, if anyone knows what it's like to lose a family member, it's Simon "Ghost" Riley. Whether they be toxic or not. Simon's heart positively ached for Soap, and they couldn't help but get all misty eyed at Johnny's pure, unbridled grief.

Ghost had never felt so sorry for anyone in his life, and Soap was eternally grateful for Simon's patience, empathy, and it consoling him to the best of their ability. 💖

DADDY ISSUES GHOST AND MOMMY ISSUES SOAP MY BELOVED(S)

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 8

Masters of the Air x Reader

Secret Admirer (Revealed)

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been recieving?

Warnings: Spoilers for the admirers identity if you have yet to read Part 7, mentions of death, implied nudity, and it’s a little cheesy.

Word Count: ~1.3k

Masterlist Previous Final Part- Coming soon!

Sorry for the long af wait but just got my cast off from breaking my dominant hand soo it’s been a rough go. I appreciate everyone’s support with this series 🩵💙

x x x

Everyone at Thorpe Abbotts had grown increasingly weary throughout the winter months, losing more men each mission while trying to recover from the great losses of autumn.

It seemed with each mission you rose earlier and earlier, eventually you ceased finding any sleep after that dreaded red light flashed for the men.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” You greeted Douglass and Blakely with a smile, two cups of steaming black coffee already prepared. It had become a ritual for a few of the men to skip breakfast with the replacements, settling for one of your hot cups of coffee and chain smoking cigarettes to ease their unsettled stomachs.

Everett could see the exhaustion in your eyes, the burden of serving these men with a smile, knowing a fraction will not return was taking its toll.

“Sleep at all?” He asked, his worry palpible by the way his eyebrows creased in the centre.

“Your feet being on solid ground allows me to breathe but sleep evades me.” You admit, reaching to smooth the front lock of his hair that frequently escapes his attempted neat styling.

“Does that mean I don’t qualify for a kiss from my guardian angel this morning?”

Douglass groaned, smothering his cigarette butt into the dirt with his heavy, polished boot. “Sometimes I miss when she would only talk to you because she was ignoring my ass.”

“He’s a little on edge right now, our little James is attempting commitment.” Everett explained, sending the bombadier an amused glare. “On the topic of commitment, the hut will be clear for a few hours tonight for Rosie’s 25th mission festivities. Maybe we can catch up on some sleep.”

“Yeah, sleep, I’m sure that is what will be happening in there.” Douglass rolled his eyes at your lovesick, teenage antics.

“Speaking of Rosie, where is the lucky bastard?” You asked, he usually cut out of breakfast early to clear his head of all the nervous replacements chatter.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, he is a damn good pilot.” Blakely mused, “If I didn’t fly so damn good myself, I’d want to be in his fort.”

“Speak of the devil… coffee?” You offered as the mustached pilot appeared under the rolling, grey clouds.

“Please.”

You raised your own coffee to toast, “All the best today boys, and Rosie? Give ‘em hell.”

“This it the worst part, the waiting.” Helen broke the silence in the clubmobile. You were sitting in the chairs provided, awaiting the arrival of the men before you would make your way to what had become the Interigation centre to welcome the men back, help them feel comfortable and recognize they were back on solid ground. “Do you think Rosie will make it? It feels like it has been ages since a crew has done it.”

You glanced over the spine of the book in your hands, it had been open for about an hour now but if Helen had noticed you had yet to turn the page she did not mention it. “Rosie is a great pilot, I wouldn’t start doubting his abilities now.”

You flipped your page for show, eyes drifting over the page but not reading the black ink.

“Do you truely love Everett?”

“I do.” You did not need to think as the words slipped past your lips.

“How does it feel to love someone like that?”

You shut the book, placing it on your lap as you pictured your handsome pilot in your minds eye, “It’s like having a perfect, hot cup of tea on a cold day, its a warmth that envelopes your mind, body and soul. I feel all of his emotions tenfold, when he is happy I am blessed, when he is mad I am enraged and when he struggles with sadnesss I feel his grief. I yearn for his presence when he is away and revel in it when he is near, I no longer dream of going home because Everett has become my home.”

Helen looked thoughtful for a moment, “I think I could have felt it once but I only had one marvelous evening with him, Lieutenant Nash, but he was killed on his first mission.” She confessed for the first time since it had happened. “I just hope that one day I might feel that way fully, for longer than a day.”

“And Lieutenant Nash was Rosie’s friend so you’re wandering what might have happened had he made it back that day.”

Helen nodded, solemly, opting to change the subject from the handsome young man that had swept her off her feet quite unexpectedly. “I heard some of the Red Cross Ladies may be relocated when Europe is invaded, spread the resources and morale to the men at the front.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now.”

Warmth radiated from the two wool blankets drapped over your entangled bodies, it was a stark contrast from the rain pouring down outside. You felt at peace, the harsh drops pounding on the roof above and the sounds of your calm breathing filled the silence. Everett groaned as he pulled himself to a sitting postion, reaching to the bedside table for his carton of cigarettes. You shifted lazily to rest your head on his chest, pulling the blanket with you to shield his bare torso from the chill that hung in the March air.

“There have been whispers.” You spoke quietly, afriad to break the serenity.

“About us?” Everett leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

You smiled, “Those whispers never stop, every time we get a new wave of replacements they love to chatter- I think Kidd will lose his head if he has to talk to us one more time about discretion.”

“What’d you hear?”

“Helen heard that some of the girls will be allocated after the invasion of Europe,” The details were unknown but it hung over the continent like an impending storm. “That could mean-“ You paused, your fingers ghosted over the chain around his neck, tracing his name etched into the cold metal. “I used to be prepared for this, when I first volenteered I had steeled myself over, I was ready to tredge through trees, mud and blood but we were placed here. Thorpe Abbotts may have its share of mud after the rain but it has been hot cups of coffee, laughter over a drink, dancing through our pain and… you. I sincerely don’t know what I would do without you by my side.”

Blakely remained silent for a moment, contemplating your worries and soft confession as he discarded his unlit cigarette and matches onto the trunk beside his small bed. “There is no shame to be scared in this world.”

“Says the brave pilot who has looked death in the eye countless times and denied its knock.”

“Would it make you think any less of me if I were to admit that I get scared? Every time that red light turns on, everytime I climbed into that Pilot seat and everytime I look at you.” He confessed, voice soft as his warm breath brushed your throat. “We should get married. Tomorrow.”

“You jest.” You met his eyes, they were wide with vulnerabilty and an unexpected sincerity.

“I am serious.” He insisted, gently manuvering your body to be seated facing him. The rough pads of his fingers caressing the soft skin of your cheeks as he pressed on, “I want to marry you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter how long that may be.”

“Everett-“

“It does not have to be tomorrow. I can accept if you want to marry tomorrow or wait however many years, just please say yes to being my betrothed.”

Emotion overwhelmed you as you nodded your head feverantly, tears slipping down your cheeks only to be wiped away ever so softly by his thumbs. “Yes, yes, I will marry you, Everett Blakely.”

x x x

@jointherebellion215 @yorkshirekiwi @gretagerwigsmuse @seoultraveller @orchiidflwer @lucyfromtheoldhouse @kpopdistoyedmylife-blog @probabydeadbynow @claireelizabeth85 @solo-pitstop-vibes @timetowastetime8 @thebenjiblackwoodexpress @beingalive1 @bunnylil-reblogs @p-polaroid @ktredshoes @winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

[creaturecomfxrts]

wip huskerdust fic ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

let me know what you think! i want to finish it but…. whos to say….

Angel Dust shifted in the satin bar stool he was currently perched upon. In one of his many hands he swirled an obnoxiously fruity cocktail. In another, he propped his head up, slender fingers curled as his knuckles rested against his cheek, ever conscious of how he looked. If the spider didnt look like a slutty pin up doll from every angle, it wasnt enough. At least its not a floozy nightclub, he thought , sipping the drink as he surveyed the room. The pink liquid burned delightfully on the way down. It wasn’t as good as the custom drinks Husk made him. He missed the little umbrellas.

The place was huge and packed with people, gold studded walls, crystal glasses teeming with whiskey on the rocks and overblown confidence. Poker tables were spread out among the floor and sinners in gaudy outfits cashing in their life savings as the cards, chips, and booze flowed. Casinos weren’t his outing of choice, but he’d decided to join a mission that the radio demon had sent Husk on, if only because he was bored out of his fucking MIND in the hotel. It had nothing to do with the genuine companionship he had begun to feel toward the grumpy old man. Absolutely fucking nothing. Their present goal was to topple a rising new overlord’s empire, or at least begin the process of doing so. The two were here strictly to collect as much information as possible, get as little dirt on their hands as they could. Alastor had said the overlord was “unchivalrously inching closer to his territory”, whatever the hell that meant, and he simply would not allow his power to be contested. Husk, being a former overlord of gambling himself, was perfect for the job, much to his chagrin. Alastor had recruited him for task earlier that day, slinking over to the bar with his signature grin stretching at the edges of his face. Husk grumbled about it as much as one would expect, but largely held his tongue, accepting the assignment. Angel empathized, knowing the cold and sickly pull of the leash just as well as his friend. Alastor kept his cards closely tucked to his chest, no doubt the trait that scored him husks soul, so very few knew the cat’s affiliations with him. They both preferred it that way. now, hours later, they had arrived at the casino, and angel found himself with nothing important to do. Husk had told him as soon as they walked in to simply just “sit and look pretty” over by the bar while he worked the room. With no shortage of innuendos on his end, Angel and Husk parted ways to opposite ends of the joint. It had barely been an hour and the spider already had to fend off multiple overly handsy patrons with gold toothed smiles and flashing eyes, promising to win big just for him, or more likely, for whatever they hoped to get from him in the cheap hotels lining the streets outside the joint. None of them offered good information, not yet, anyway.

With nothing better to do in the moment, he found his gaze utterly drawn to Husk. There was nothing particularly eye catching about the man, at least at first glance. He was short, often rude, and had a prickly personality to match his rough appearance. Angel had originally not given him a second thought, just being glad that the cat kept the booze coming cheap and convenient, but the more time they spent tossing lighthearted animosity over the counter of the dingy bar, the more he found himself genuinely appreciating the bond they’d tediously settled into. He, only in the privacy of his own thoughts, tentatively called the man his friend.

Said man, in the present, was leaning back in a mahogany booth, cigar (where the fuck did he get that? Angel wanted one. The fuck?) lit, the smoke lazily propped between two wickedly sharp claws. Husk’s expression, though not close enough to read poperly, was completely relaxed. His poker face was immaculate. Even from here, he could see the other players tensed shoulders and baited breath, no doubt unnerved. Husk had piles of chips on his side of the table, and it would take a blind and deaf motherfucker to not predict the outcome of this round. Girls in seqiun miniskirts and too tight dresses leaned as close as Husk would allow, enamoured by his expertise. Angel bristled a little, then remembered himself. What the fuck was he jealous of? He could pull anyone in this place. He pushed the feeling down as quickly as it arose, refocusing on the center of his attention. They had barely been an there an hour, and Husk already had half the room wrapped around his finger. He was magnetic. Angel turned, only for a moment, to guesture for a refill when an enraged wail came from the far table of the casino. He whipped around, comically, alongside the bartender, who was just as engrossed in the match as he was. Husk must be somethin’ special if he could get the staff’s attention, Angel mused. The wail had come from a particularly sore loser, an imp in a finely pressed suit with his tail lashing as he forked over his previous winnings. Husk, fittingly, was grinning like a cat who just got the cream. Angel snickered at his own stupid joke. He felt something flutter in his chest at the confident expression gracing the cat’s face. It was so different from his usual tightly wound, brow-perpetually-furrowed, glowering kind of look he seemed to always have. Angel decided pontedly to not dwell on the fact that he paid close attention to the bartenders expressions to be able to even notice that in the first place. He took a rather large sip from his drink.

Snuffing out the cigar on the provided ashtray, Husk rose frim his seat, brushing past his new admirers with a flick of his feathered tail, heqding in Angel’s direction. The smug look had settled into a satisfied grin as he thumbed through the fat stack of cash between his paws. He slid onto the barstool next to Angel, placing his earnings between them with a happy sigh.

“This place is a shithole compared to the casinos I used to run, but by God, its good to be back.” He nearly purred, finishing up his tally of the money.

“You really know ya’ stuff, dontcha kitten?” Angel hummed, beginning to like this new side of Husk. The cat stretched, bones popping, no doubt from staying still so damn long.

“What the hell do you think?” His retort held no bite to it. “I didn’t become an overlord by fucking around, thats how I lost it.” He Paused, lost in thought for a moment. “Anyway, any luck, Legs? I aint got much information on my end, but another few rounds should get them talkin’, I’d say.”

“Nope. Justa bunch of horny freaks. nothin’ useful.”

“Keep workin it baby, your next drinks on me. Holler if you need anything.” He slid a hefty sum of cash to Angel, turning away as the spider retorted that he could buy his own drinks thank you very much.

“Think of it as a thank you for luggin’ your ass out here with me” The cat said over his shoulder, before slinking back into the fray to look for a new game to decimate. Angel watched him leave, the fluttering feeling back with a vengeance in his chest, somewhere underneath all the fluff and heartache.

After that brief yet confusing interaction, Angel drowned himself in cocktail after cocktail, getting comfortably wasted. He flirted with everyone, played his best “you can look but you cant touch” game he could. It was hard. Husk was far too distracting. The cat was drifting from slot machine to roulette table to poker game, round and round, only stopping to drop off his earnings with Angel. With each jackpot his eyes grew brighter. His posture straightened. His honeyed drawl grew smoother. His tail curved at the tip and twitched ever so slightly, a sign of happiness, and perhaps the only emotion he couldn’t mask from his adversaries across the table. Angel would never admit that he’d looked it up (He’d been curious. Could you blame him? The man never talked feelings. Angel had to learn to read body language, that was it.), and worse, found it ridiculously endearing. After not so subtly letting down yet another drunken suitor with no valuable information, he felt a brush of feathers against his back. Husk joined him at the bar, yet again with more winnings. “Making good use of that cash, huh, spider?” He quipped before flagging the bertender for a shot of whiskey.

“You know it Daddy” he cooed with a drunken grin, leaning in to the other demons personal space.

“Shaddup with that shit.” Husk grumbled, pushing Angel back, soft paw shoved into his face. “I aint your client.” Perhaps Angel was too drunk, but he swore he saw a hint of color tinge the other man’s furry cheeks. Husks brow furrowed, and the moment passed. “Wait… Ive got an idea.”

Angel cocked his head, curious.

“Theres a lot of pompous freaks in this casino. More so than many i’ve been to. Its clearly the atmosphere the overlord of this area wants to cultivate.” He continued. “You fit right in—

“Hey! I-“

“Let me finish. You fit right in to these motherfucker’s wettest dreams. You’ve had no shortage of suitors tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Wanna be my arm candy?”

Angel felt his face explode with heat.

“What.”

“I- ahm- ‘scuse me. That came out wrong, sorry doll.” Husk coughed. “I mean, will you act as my arm candy for the evening? with your pretty little face on my arm, ive got a feelin’ people are gonna be a lot more loose lipped.”

Angel blinked. He blinked again. “You think thatll work, Husky? really? I mean i know im hot but i dunno…. you seem to be workin the crowd pretty damn well, kitty cat. Wouldnt wanna break yer stride.” He fidgeted with his many hands, not sure what to do with such a polite yet bold proposition. Normally, people dont ask, they just take. If Val wanted arm candy, he grabbed whoever he wanted whenever he wanted, including Angel. Especially Angel. This was different. He was snapped out of his head when Husk replied, kind as ever.

“Trust me, kid. It’ll work wonders. Whaddya say?” He slid off the stool, downing his shot before holding out a hand to Angel.

Angel nearly tripped over himself taking it. They walked shoulder to shoulder like a proper couple, elbows linked. Husk leaned closer, “New place, same job. Sit and look pretty. Do whatever you like. Flirt all ya want. But, if ya dont mind, just let me do the talkin, okay?”

Angel could only nod, butterflies swarming in his stomach so ferociously he felt nauseous for a moment.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Wheezy Weasel x Younger!Reader || Drabble

Plot: That 🔼🔼🔼

Warnings: Age difference + smoking + smuttiness. Unedited.

Tagging: @astridflo , @disney-android-foundation , @marinerainbow , @moxiiscool .

You loved him. Or you were obsessed with him. Or both. You knew that, for sure. You just never knew... if he felt the same. He kept his feelings very close to the vest; worried you were so young and he was a fucking creep.

Maybe he was, he was already a thug anyway, but you sure didn't care. In fact the sooner that the old bastard came to terms with being a creep, the better for you.

So no, despite your feelings (Your very obvious feelings, that you don't even attempt to hide from anyone, least of all him), you were not a couple. Still though, you often found yourself hanging all over him late at night, after the other weasels have all gone to bed. Your legs spread across his thighs, or leaning against him, or fully sat in lap. For some reason... he never complains. There was a silent understanding, even if one of you was tired, you would stay up and watch TV together; and pretend it was by coincidence.

Tonight you're particularly tired, feeling foggy and affectionate. It had been a long day and all you could think about now was Wheezy; you wanted to cuddle up to him and stay there for as long as possible; you didn't even care about the smell. After you absentmindedly watch Greasy, the last one to go off to bed, your gaze shifts over to Wheezy looking handsome as hell- as always- smoking a couple cig's tucked between his teeth so the grey smoke puffs slowly, softly upwards towards the ceiling in warm billows. His eyes seem to glow dangerously behind it, watching TV even though he knows you're watching. You always liked that.

"... hey Wheezy?" You ask, shifting across the couch and gently laying your legs over his lap, and wrapping your arms around one of his. This causes him to sigh through grit teeth, because god forbid he let the cigarettes go for a second, and relax under your touch almost immediately. Like he cant help it. You like that, too. You never miss it; you always make sure to watch, when you touch him.

"Yeh?"

"How come you smoke?"

At this he glances down at you, scary luminescent crystalline hues gliding down your body and- oh. Thats unexpected. He- did he really just- Yes, he actually did.

Your cheeks warm up as he shrugs, turning back to the TV. "What can I say? Keeps my mouth and my hands busy. 'therwise I start sayin' things I shouldn't. Doin'... uh, things, I shouldn't."

"Well- do you think you'll ever stop smoking?"

"Babygirl, I'll stop this fucken second, if you gimmie a better use for my hands and mouth." As soon as he says that your eyes light up and you part your lips to respond- but he beats you to it. Realises what he said. "Oh, fuck. Listen, I didn't mean it that way. Yer too young, y' know that. I could be yer grandpa. Thats that."

Immediately your face falls, even though he sounds more like he's telling himself. Even though he likes you hanging off him. Even though he stays up to be with you. Against all the evidence, because its always this way. He never wants to take the last little step; he's a coward.

You're not even that young, you think, frustrated. Just because he's an old man... A pout appears on your face and when he glances at you, and sees it on your cute lips, it breaks something in him.

You only know it when he turns suddenly towards you and flicks his burning cigarettes into the ash tray on the coffee table. " -'then again, I could be a fucken idiot."

"Wh- "

His lips slam into yours and you release a whimper on impact, parting your lips immediately for him and accepting his experienced tongue into your mouth for the first time. His hands fall down your body, guiding you to lay down and wrap your legs around him- one at a time. Dragging your right leg over his hip and then the left. When you're all wrapped around him you can feel how hard he is for you. Fuck. He must've been like that the whole time.

His lips glide down over your chin and over your throat, leaving hot firm kisses all along the way, and talking gruffly against your skin between every touch; his fingers in your hair holding you still. "Look. what you fucken. did now. Kid. Made me a scumbag. Like Grease. Well," His lips graze gently back upwards, over your lips. When he doesn't immediately kiss you again you have to force your eyes to crack open. See him looking sternly at you; almost scary but it only makes you feel hotter, more light headed. "Now I'm all yours. Your-fucken-problem. Congrats." He says it like its a penalty. A punishment, somehow, instead of what you wanted. "'lright?"

He was asking you one last time. Giving you one last Out.

Goddamnit, this man!-

Instead of answering that stupid question, you lean up and kiss him deeply. "Take me now... "

"Jesus."

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Arthur Morgan Headcannons

I just wanted to write some headcannons, about Arthur, literally anything, I don't care what it is exactly so that's what you're getting.

Some of the headcannons might be a bit more oriented towards a female reader, but not all, I myself am a woman, so, I'll more than likely put some in.

Arthur Morgan is a man who will gladly enjoy any person, regardless of size, but let's be real, I think he has a bit of a soft spot for bigger women. Chunky or thicc, he likes 'em

He thinks that with more there, there's more for him to grab and less of a chance that he'll break something when he's with you, whether it's in a bit more intimate situation, or even when he's just giving you a small hug or kiss.

Arthur is extremely observant. He pays attention to the things you like, and he is literally always on top of doing the things you like or buying you whatever will make you smile. 

If he finds out how much you like his voice? Uses it against you, because he doesn’t want to torture you, but he does want to see you riled up. 

You like how warm he is? He’ll always be watching to see when you get cold, and the moment you do he’s right behind you with his arms around your waist. 

Arthur has a SEVERE gambling addiction. You thought his smoking was bad? He plays poker almost every single night that he’s in camp, and sometimes it’s a blessing and others it’s a curse. He can go rounds at a time, winning each one, but as soon as he has one bad round, they all go bad, but he’s never willing to give up until you make him, and by the end of the ordeal he’s lost more money than made. 

He also has a huge ego problem, obviously he’s mentally ill and he’s depressed with who he is as a person, and he doesn’t think very highly of himself, but the moment you manage to boost his ego, that little swagger walk of his that you so dearly love grows more confident. 

Hell, sometimes even you just saying good morning can change his whole mood, and he’ll even be nice to other people in camp when he usually only tolerates them.

Arthur has this thing, that when he leaves camp for a certain amount of time, anything that’ll be longer than a day really, but usually when its about a week of being away. He’ll come back to camp, make a beeline for you, and whisper only loud enough for you to hear “Can you be quiet for me while I fuck you or do I have to take you outta camp?” 

And thus, you are prepared, obviously.

He’s like a dog in heat, mainly because he hadn’t been with anyone in so long and after a while he’d stopped going after working girls. No one had really made his body react like you did, so it never became a problem until he got with you. 

He draws you all the time, obviously he draws, he’s got a whole sketchbook dedicated to it, but he draws you almost any chance he can. Not because he’s some corny “I love you more than life itself” kind of person, which, he is, but because he thinks that out of everyone in camp you are the most fun to draw, your features are just more entertaining and enjoyable to make out with a pencil.

Arthur loves to eat good food, and while Pearson does a decent job it’s not exactly what he would consider gourmet food, so whenever he gets the chance to try new food, or get good food at least, he’ll splurge the money. The only reason he hasn’t gotten completely fat, though he is a little on the chubbier side, which you absolutely love, and think is hot as hell, is because of all the work he does for the gang.

He calls you all kinds of nicknames and pays attention to the ones that get the biggest reaction out of you. 

He’s found that Princess does a particularly great job at getting a rouse out of you, but he’s also found that if he says it in his normal tone it doesn’t have the same effect, he has to lower his voice for it to work the way he wants it too. 

Darlin’ and Sweetheart have about the same effect, although Darlin’ seems to make you feel a little more for him in serious situations. 

Sugar makes you go beet red in the face, and he’s figured out that one is another one he can lower his voice for. 

Honey is one that he thinks you like, but he also thinks you’re a little neutral on it. Sometimes it works, other times you just don’t seem to care that much. You’ll answer to it, but that’s about all.

Good Girl, or My Girl, regardless of tone, but especially when lowered, always gets you messed up and he knows it, which is exactly why he waits until you’re at the fire surrounded by the gang to whisper it in your ear. 

On the other hand, you have only a few nicknames for him.

Cowboy, it’s tried and true, describes him, basically to a Tee, although Outlaw works better. 

Honey, again, a neutral one. 

You are the only person, and I mean, only person he allows to call him Pretty Boy, if anyone else tries it they’re liable to find a knife beneath their neck.

Big Boy will send him skyrocketing, his face will flare so hard his ears will turn red and he’ll start stuttering over his words like a newborn calf stumbling on its legs. 

Good Boy will really get him motivated and usually if you say it to him in public, he has to excuse himself until he gets rid of his problem. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s bad for him, but you think that when he smokes cigarettes, he’s at one of his hottest points. When he finds this out, he makes it his goal to smoke more around you.

Occasionally he’ll wait until you wake up and walk out of his tent shirtless and lean against the wooden poles to smoke, and he’ll send a smirk your way, that he knows you like. 

When you start to share his tent together, he does the same thing, however, rather than getting up he just simply leans over you and grabs the smokes, he’ll light a match against the wagon and puff away with his hands behind his head. 

His absolute favorite thing to do is smack you on the ass and run away, he thinks it’s the absolute funniest thing ever to watch you chase him, he’s got longer legs, so it’s easier to stay away from you. 

He also loves it when you wear his hat, however, if you do, he’s going to use it as an excuse to take you to the tent. 

If you get him drunk, first off, I’m sorry, second off, you better have a leash. He’s a lot happier drunk, he likes to sing and talk, and he compliments everyone, but he also likes to stumble around and go adventure, and if you don’t keep a good eye on him he’s liable to mount up on his horse, albeit slowly, and then make his way into the nearest town to cause mayhem.

Do not let him drink with John, because rather than being a fun loving drunk he will start trying to fight John and then the night is ruined for everyone. 

He also gets more handsy when he drinks, he was already handsy before, but now, when he’s drunk and he couldn’t care less about what people thought about him, he was going to touch wherever he wanted on you. 

Your stomach? He’s got his arms around it.

Your ass? Being grabbed any time he’s walking, or stumbling rather, with you. 

Tits? Regardless of gender? They have been honked at least twice. 

He will kiss you, if it’s on the lips or on the neck, that is anyone’s gamble. 

He’ll even talk dirty to you, and not quietly like he would if he was sober, he’ll do it for everyone in camp to hear, and the only way to shut him up is to either kiss him or somehow drag all two hundred and forty pounds of him into his tent. 

All in all Arthur Morgan is Arthur Morgan and if you make the decision to be his you better be ready to deal with it.

[winchestergirl2]

January Reading Recs

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

2023 Reading Recs

Smallville

Jason Teague

"Sleep. I'll Keep You Safe. " @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: Jason has just helped you escape the clutches of his nefarious mother. Where will you go from here now that you know the truth?

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: When another student makes an unwanted move on you, Jason's not above flexing his assistant coach authority muscle a little to get the guy to leave you alone and send a message.

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: He put you with Hoyt and Tonya. For the day. What the hell had he been thinking?

"Sleep. I'll Keep You Safe" @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: Your house is broken into one night when Beau wasn't home and now you find yourself expecting it to happen again at any moment. Will you ever feel safe in your home again?

Dark Angel

Alec Mcdowell

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: You're looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you'd see again.

Being Human Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

The Boys

Soldier Boy

"Sleep. I'll Keep You Safe" @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.

Possessive @kaleldobrev

Authors Summary: Ben is highly against when other men hit on you

Dawsons Creek

CJ Braxton

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Good Morning @zepskies

Authors Summary: Your attempts to get your boyfriend out of bed don’t go as planned.

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Smoke Eater Part 19 | Epilogue @zepskies

Authors Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

Desire (The Wanton Song) @deanbrainrotwritings

Authors Summary: Dean looks delicious in a suit, that’s it.

What Awaits You In The Dark @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Authors Summary: After sleeping with Dean, Y/N really wants to sleep next to him too. Dean seems reluctant. Can Y/N figure out why?

Wake Up Call @wayward-dreamer

Authors Summary: Y/N starts Dean's birthday in a special way.

Blush @kaleldobrev

Authors Summary: For the first time in your life, you can say you’ve made Dean Winchester blush

Always @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Authors Summary: When Y/N storms out in anger, Dean is afraid he's lost her.

Privilege @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Authors summary: dean admits he feels old and you can’t help but gawk at his thinking

Tourniquet @impala-dreamer

Authors Summary: Y/N has been by Dean's side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment's peace.

Sam Winchester

Tic Tac Toe Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | @percywinchester27

Authors Summary: The reader shifts into a new city after being offered a dream job by a big firm. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect after an ugly break-up with a douche-bag Ex. But things turn out not as dreamy as she’d want them to be and the only thing that keeps her smiling is a totally coincidental game of Tic Tac Toe.

Untitled Sam Drabble @supernaturalfreewill

Authors Summary: Imagine sending Sam little texts throughout the day. They're his favorite thing and cheer him up during long hunts...

We Could Stay @imaginesfordifferentfandoms

Prompt - Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

It's All Coming Back To Me Now @sams-sass

Authors Summary: You are falling for Sam until Swan Song happens, but there is something you don't know.

Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader

Unopened At Your Feet Chapters 1 - 5 @thoughtslikeaminefield

Authors Summary: This is the story of how I broke my own heart.

[johaerys-writes]

Chapter 1: Restless Sinner

Read on AO3

“What’s the verdict, Chiron?”

Chiron squints at the horizon, at the sun that’s dipping slowly behind the golden foothills of the western mountain range, red hot and heavy. The weather in the valley can be unpredictable, and it has always fallen to Achilles’ wise tutor to observe the signs and patterns in the sky, the clouds, the birds. 

“A long, hot summer,” he says. “Dry and windy, with little chance of rain.” 

Peleus groans. The neck of the bottle clings at the glass’s edge when he fills it. “It will be hell for the harvest,” he says. “Last year, half the alfalfa was scorched, and the clover was barely enough to make up for it. The cattle will have nothing to graze on by July.” 

“We’ll still have the barley,” Chiron says mildly, “and the spring has been gentle. The fields beyond the river are still plush and green. Being a pessimist does not become you, my friend.” 

Achilles listens to the men with half an ear. The old saddle he’s been trying to fix for days now is largely a lost cause; the leather is chafed and cracked in places, the balance of the seat is off, and it won’t fit on the back of his new horse anyway. But he still fidgets with it for want of anything better to do, picking apart the stitching and mending the straps. The hounds sprawl around him, tired from a full day of running after the sheep and the horses and the cattle. 

Peleus sighs and lights his pipe. The puff of silver smoke momentarily obscures his features, then is blown away by a gust of wind. “Yes,” he says, and the smile on his lips is only a little forced. “I suppose you are right.” 

One of the dogs lifts its head and sniffs at the air. It woofs softly, under its breath, then takes off towards the gates. The rest of the hounds are quick to follow, baying and howling up a storm. Together they all raise a ruckus, frightening the horses that neigh and huff from inside the barn. 

“There’s someone at the gate,” Chiron says, and casts a questioning glance towards it.

“I’ll go have a look.” Achilles jumps to his feet. He rushes after the dogs, shushing them as soon as he draws near. At the sight of him they are all brought to heel; they are clever, obedient dogs, trained by his father since they were taken from their mothers. They skulk away from the gates, yet with their ears still pricked up and snouts lifted up in the air as Achilles unbars the door and swings it open. 

The boy that’s standing at the ranch’s threshold is the last thing Achilles would have expected to see at this time of day. He must be about fourteen, fifteen at most; his face is dark and sunburnt beneath the shadows of his wide-brim hat, his neck glistening with sweat. He holds himself up tall, though it’s clear by his posture and the traildust on his clothes that he’s been travelling for the better part of the day, perhaps longer.

“Are you lost?” Achilles asks him. It isn’t very often that they get visitors this time of day, or evening. 

The boy gives him a long, level look, fidgeting absently with the strap of the pack hanging off his shoulder, which seems to be his only possession. “This the Pelides ranch?” he asks, voice hoarse and scratchy with exhaustion. His soft drawl sounds vaguely southern, but not from a place Achilles can easily discern.

“The very same.” 

“Is the owner home? Mister Pelides?”

“Who’s asking?”

The boy tenses. “I’d rather speak to him directly, if it’s all the same to you.” 

Achilles gives him a careful look-over, his thumb tucked behind his belt. He doesn’t look like a desperado—too young, perhaps, for that, though Phthia's been seeing more and more of them of late— and he’s no peddler either; he's got no wares to sell that Achilles can see. His shirt and his leather chaps would have once been of good make though they’re now worn and dusty, and the silver spurs on his boots mark him as anything but a laboring man. Whoever he is, he must have been well off… at some point.

Achilles hesitates for a moment before he gives the dogs a clipped command. They all sit on their haunches as Achilles swings the door open to let the boy in. He waits for Achilles to bar the gates again and lead him up to the house’s front porch, where Peleus and Chiron are now curiously watching. 

“What’s your name, son?” Peleus asks, a friendly yet cautious smile on his lips as they ascend the porch steps. Everyone around these parts has learned not to trust strangers too quickly.

“Patroclus, sir.”

“And what’s your father’s name, Patroclus?” 

Patroclus’ jaw clenches. “I ain’t got none, sir.” 

Peleus’ expression softens just a little with genuine compassion at this. His father’s always had a soft spot for those without family, home, or hope. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, son." He rocks a little back and forth on his rocking chair, his smoking pipe dangling from his lips. “What can I do for you, Patroclus?”

“Looking for work,” Patroclus says without preamble. “I'm strong, and I work fast. I can bale hay and buck barley and clean the cattle pens, and fix them fallen fence posts what I saw on my way in—or anything else that needs fixing.”

Peleus considers this for a moment. “Hay season is still a ways away,” he remarks thoughtfully. “And I’ve got enough men for the fences and the barley and the cattle. Come back in a month and I’ll have work for you.” 

His tone is dismissal enough. Peleus pushes himself up and turns towards the house, missing the boy’s face that instantly falls at his words. Patroclus' dark eyes go wide in alarm and his mouth works soundlessly for a moment, lips cracked by the heat and the sun. He must have been out under the blazing hot sun of the valley for days, weeks by the looks of it. His hands are soft though, delicate fingers tightening over the brim of his hat. Hands that probably haven’t known half the work they claim they have. 

Achilles’ heart clenches, inexplicably, at this.

“Calving and foaling season is almost upon us,” he tells his father carelessly. He picks up the old saddle he’d set aside before the boy showed up, and starts absently working on the stitching again. “Last year we were running ourselves rugged day and night; sure wouldn’t hurt to have another set of hands around.” 

Peleus stops short. Patroclus stares at Achilles, but his surprise lasts only for a moment before he hurries to say, “I’ve worked with cattle before, and I’ve grown up around horses. I can ride a horse and train a horse for carriage and for riding, and I can muck out the stalls. I can do anything you tell me, and I won’t ask for nothing more than a hot meal and a place to sleep.”

He doesn’t say ���please’ but Achilles can almost hear it, at the tip of his tongue. He catches himself silently begging his father to take the boy in. 

Peleus stays quiet for a long minute, his face obscured by the smoke of his pipe when he puffs it. “Pay is ten drachmae a day, plus board and lodging. The men’s bunks are full; you’ll have to sleep in the barn for now. This alright with you?”

“Yes, sir,” Patroclus says, and the palpable relief in his voice is almost…heartbreaking. “Thank you, sir.” 

Peleus nods again, pleased by the boy’s response. “Achilles,” he says, “show Patroclus to his lodgings, and fetch him something to eat.”

The barn, in Achilles’ opinion, is one of the least comfortable places one could sleep in. The floor is dusty no matter how often you sweep it, the air smells of hay and the thick musky odour of horses, but the stalls are spacious, at least, and the hay is warm and soft to sleep on. To someone who’s been sleeping on the ground for days—as Achilles thinks Patroclus has done—a hay bed will seem like a feather mattress. 

The horses stir sleepily in their stalls when he pushes the doors open, disgruntled and skittish for having been disturbed for the second time that evening. Achilles leads Patroclus to the last stall, which is empty and clean save for the narrow bed they keep there for occasions such as this. 

“Hope you like bean stew,” Achilles tells him when he returns a little while later, handing him the bowl he brought, along with a thick piece of bread and some strips of dried jerky. “It’s what we have most days this time of year. That, or peas, or whatever’s in season. I’ve also brought you a towel and a clean shirt and a blanket. Still gets chilly at night sometimes. There’s also a water barrel out back if you’d like to wash. Looks like you need it. No offence,” he adds hastily, when Patroclus glances down at his dusty clothes.

“Um… thanks,” he mumbles. “Appreciate it.” He sets the bundle Achilles brought him at the edge of the mattress before he sits down, then brings a big spoonful of the stew to his mouth. A little sound of pleasure escapes him at this; it isn’t very long before his attention is entirely devoted to his food, as if he’s forgotten Achilles is there.

Achilles leans with his shoulder against the stall door, watching him. Patroclus wolfs down his dinner in the manner of someone who is near starving to death, but is still too proud to chuck the spoon away and gulp down the stew straight from the bowl.

“I’ll be sure to bring you another one, since you liked the first so much,” he jokes when Patroclus scoops the last of the stew with a piece of bread. 

“Thank you,” Patroclus says, a little embarrassed. “But I wouldn’t want to put you in any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, there’s plenty left,” Achilles says with a smile. “And our cook, Briseis, will be flattered to hear you like it so much. It’s only been a couple months since our old cook left and she’s taken over— and it was for the best, let me tell you.” 

He chuckles at his own joke, but Patroclus doesn’t join him. He’s too busy stuffing the remainder of the bread and the jerky into his mouth, then chugging down the pitcher of water Achilles brought him earlier. Achilles wonders how long ago it was since he last had a proper meal.

“So… is it true you have no parents?” Achilles asks him. “No father, no mother either?” 

Patroclus stiffens slightly at this. He chews and swallows, then shakes his head. 

“An orphan, then?”

“That’s how they call kids without parents where I’m from,” Patroclus replies coolly.

“And where are you from?”

“Far from here.” 

He looks away, his expression distant and closed off. It doesn’t take much to understand that he doesn’t want to talk about it any further; Achilles, for once, doesn’t push it. 

“Alright, then.” He pushes himself upright. “I’ll go bring you that bowl of stew, and then you should probably try to rest a bit. The horses will make sure you’re up before dawn anyway.” 

He winks and flashes him a quick, easy smile as he turns to go. 

“It’s Achilles, right?” Patroclus asks. “Achilles Pelides?”

Achilles stops short just as he steps out of the stall. “Yes,” he says. “That’s right.”

“Thanks for… speaking up for me,” Patroclus says. “For getting your father to take me in. I really… really needed the work.”

Oh, but it wasn’t personal. They just needed the extra hands, that’s all. People come and go from the ranch all the time; the place will be buzzing with seasonal workers soon. One more isn’t going to make that big of a difference. Chances are, whoever this boy is, he won't stick around for very long either way. It would be foolish of him to feel indebted to him.

Achilles isn’t going to tell him that, though.

“You owe me one, Patroclus No-Name,” he says as he walks out of the barn.

Read the rest on AO3

[ghostssweetgirl]

crazy over you ~ simon ghost riley x reader

slow burn/enemies to lovers

taglist: @melaninsugababy @fruitymoonbeams-blog @copiasratscheese @wintersnnowie

description: y/n gets transferred to task force 141 and quickly becomes friends with soap and gaz, but her and ghost "hate" each other for the first part.

warnings: mentions of violence and death (duh), alcohol intake, smoking (at some point), nsfw (at some point | HERE), subtle flirting with soap. i'm new to writing? so don't expect this to be the greatest. this is not in line with the game campaigns or missions. the only characters i included are y/n, soap, gaz, price, & ghost. i have no knowledge of the military this is just creativity

disclaimer: i do not own modern warfare or any of its characters.

chapters: [worth it] last

You were more than happy to get out of that uniform. Casual clothes were never more comfortable than they were now. You packed up everything and stared at your empty room before exiting and following Ghost, crate in hand, to a car. He put the cat in the backseat and opened the door for you. 

Sitting giddily in the passenger seat, you can't help but smile as you drive off of the base that has been your home for months now. If someone would have told you transferring to the 141 would result in this, you'd have slapped them silly. Punched them in the face for even insinuating that. 

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just... happy," you sighed. "Happy."

"Good," he nodded. "Me... too."

--

You directed him to your house - well, your small, boring apartment. It was awkward at first. Partly because he made sure to study everything you owned and everything about your place. He studied the two exits and made sure your windows were able to be locked. You assumed it was his way of learning you better, so you let it be. You tried to tour him around your tiny place, but he shook his head, determined to learn it on his own. But you found it funny how he had to duck when walking into the door, into the hallway, the bathroom, etc. The apartment ceilings were low, unfortunately. You never had issues and didn't even think about this until you brought him here. You sure as hell forgot to mention your full-size bed - compared to his California king, it was tiny.

-

The size of your bed didn't matter when you were making love. You were as close to him as you could get, even though you literally wanted to be under his skin - cuddling wasn't enough.

The size of your couch didn't matter when you were splayed across him while he lay on it.

As small as your home was, it was better with him there, but you honestly couldn't wait to go back to his. You preferred it there.

-

Buddy was shy at first, hiding for the first few days. You set up its litter box and food bowl, along with a spare pet bed you happened to have. He soon started getting accustomed and coming out for Simon more. It was cute how he said 'no' to having the cat but they've clung to each other. 

-

Weeks go by fast. Every day was becoming routine, brushing your teeth together, and eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner with each other. Enjoying the same shows, recommending each other books. Showering together, bathing together even though it was quite cramped. Staying up late with each other talking about random things that came to mind, or, rather, you become a philosopher sometimes late in the night.

~

"Simon?" you whispered.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"You awake?"

"Yeah, luv."

"Okay. Well, I was trying to sleep, but got to thinking."

"Oh my," he went along with your tired nonsense.

At first, it was funny, you tiredly rambling about random facts, world facts, conspiracy theories, the works. He listened to your rambles, your very groggy, quick mumbles about nonsense. But it quickly turned into him helping you fall asleep, your brain was moving faster than your mouth, becoming hyper. 

He climbed over you lazily, grunting as he shuffled his knees behind your thighs. "Y'sound like you need help getting t'sleep, luv."

"Mm, yeah," you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His lips met yours fervently, softly sucking at your bottom lip. He ground into you, earning a small moan. His hand cupped your face, his fingers rubbed your soft skin as you leaned up begging for more. As you gripped at his tight skin, your hands snaked down his back before scratching up, he deeply grunted as his hands started squeezing your breasts to your hips, to your core. You gasped as his hand slid under your panties, his cold fingers meeting your clit. 

He fingered you until he ripped three orgasms out of you, wetness seeping, pooling in a spot on the sheets beneath you. He took his pleasure in pleasing you - thoroughly studying your facial expressions as his fingers tactically explored your walls and sweet spots. He'd learned the spots that made you arch your back, the one that made you gasp - opening your mouth with no sound coming out, the one that made you squirt - gushing all over him. 

Finally tiring you out, he went to the bathroom, washed his hands, and got new bedsheets. He helped you to the bathtub where he lovingly washed your sleepy self. As he dried you off and let you dress, he quickly changed the bedsheets for you before guiding you to bed, letting you nuzzle on his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

~

While eating dinner and watching TV, a camping commercial came up, and you two looked at each other, nodding your heads. It was time to head to his place. A good few-hour drive. You finished up the night, packing belongings, and this time, more clothes, able to dress to your style more now, being off. 

The next morning, you coaxed Buddy out of his hiding spot and gave him a treat. "This time you're going home, Bud. No more moving around. I know, I know..." 

After loading up the car, you take a last walk around your apartment, locking the doors and windows. 

--

You could have predicted how careful he'd be while camping, being protective and watchful, keeping weapons on hand - his pistol holstered at his hip and tactical knife easy to grab. He finally freed himself from his mask once he felt comfortable enough with the surroundings, seeming at ease. 

First, you went fishing with him. It was quite boring at first, patience not being much of one of your personality traits. Until finally, you caught a small one. You were proud of yourself but looked to him for approval, and he was already smiling at you. 

"Good job, babe," he walked over to you, helping you undo the hook and then put the fish back in the water. 

As the first night came to an end, you ended the night with smores and a couple of bottles of beer. You talked with Simon about how you never got to experience stuff like this and thanked him for taking you with him.

You cuddled with him in the tent, snuggled up close as the degrees dropped to cold temperatures. Sounds of crickets, cicadas, coyotes, and wildlife soothed you as you were enjoying this new aspect of your life.

--

Love grew deeper as memorable dates with you two continued. It grew deeper as you both catered to each other's love languages. His vulnerability also grew. Something, a part of him you never thought you'd see. Even in the beginning of this, even a sliver of info about him, his secrets, what makes him - him, was a treat, a rare treat. 

Every day was different in all sorts of ways. Some days you were both lazy, understandably so. Some days you were active. Some days were very laughable, others calm, comfortable... quiet. But not the awkward, or unhappy quiet. Not the embarrassing quiet, or the "don't know what to do" quiet. The peaceful, understanding of each other quiet. The appreciating each other quiet. You made a look at him and he'd know what you want, need, or were trying to say. Vice versa. 

Those quiet days were beautiful. The sounds of you both laughing at a movie, the sounds of you breathing. Buddy's pitter-patters across the hardwood floors. The randomness of conversation starters. Cheeky jokes. It all seemed quite natural, something you could get used to. Forever. 

It hits you at random times, that this, this right here, this type of vulnerability, personal moments with Simon was only for the time off. You can imagine yourself being here with him. Waking up to him every day. Going to bed together every night. You knew he wouldn't do it, but you wouldn't mind quitting the military, getting a regular job, and living your life like this with him.  

--

He woke you up in the middle of the night during the last month. Randomly asking you to join him in going to the snowy mountains in Colorado. A little surprised at the randomness, but also too sleepy to answer with a straight mind. 

You were surprised when you woke up to all bags packed.

"Um, what is this?" you asked, pointing to the suitcases.

"Our bags," he answered, tilting his head at you. "Dress warm, luv."

"Okay..." 

--

Though you've had a wonderful time with him so far, it hit you hard when you realized that it's getting too close to the three-month mark. Previously, you'd be excited to go back to work. You didn't know what it was, probably the fact that you'd fallen head over heels for your Lieutenant, but you wanted to stay like this, already missing him in his loving, domestic state. Him. Who he is. 

Getting this far, and learning this much about each other has taught you exactly how much alike you two are. You've always liked nature, but appreciated it more when you got to enjoy it with him. You like being alone, and you can be alone with him. You both had walls built up, slowly letting each other seep into the crevices as you both fell. 

--

Thinking back on everything, you would do everything over again for him. Neither would you change a thing. The tension, the heartache, the pain, the anger... Everything you've been through with and for this man was worth it. Thinking of other ways this could have gone causes you to wince. Wince and shrivel at the thought of not having him. Not having your Simon like that. The loving man you knew now, and wanted to keep around forever. 

--

Proud to say that you've found your groove with each other, by the time you returned back to work...

He never failed to tell you he loved you before and after missions. He never had to distance himself anymore, since he could confide in you. Quite more protective over you, but still enjoys watching you fight and paint yourself red with the blood of your enemies. And now he didn't care about the other members knowing fully. If it wasn't obvious enough, you got princess treatment from the Lieutenant. Price held his hands up, refusing to get in between as long as it didn't interfere with jobs being done.

-

It wasn't until he stabbed a man charging at you, full speed while you were already busy with one fight, that you realized you were quite crazy over him, too. The force behind the swing of the blade against the throat, the quickness of it. The eye contact with you as the body drops, his eyes relaxing while he looks into yours. 

"Fuck, that was hot, Lieutenant," you whispered as he pinches your chin, towering over you before he leads the way out of the building.

Thank you so much for reading!!!! I am grateful for each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this story, and even more grateful if you enjoyed it! I loved writing this story so much, it was a good one! <3