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gigabyte-flare · 9 months ago

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The Devil is Real (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: You sense there's something not right about Los Iluminados and you're determined to get to the bottom of it.

Word Count: 3.5k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

Your eyes slowly open to find the sun pouring into the window over by the head of the stairs. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head before swinging your feet over the side of the bed. Heading downstairs, you find Vince already up and making breakfast. You walk up and stand next to him.

“Anything I can help with?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s making.

“Nah I’m good,” he replies, playfully shoving you away, “you must have been exhausted. You were already asleep when I got back to the house.”

“The jet lag finally caught up to me as soon as my head hit the pillow,” you explain as you sit at the table, “you spoke to Father Méndez I take it?”

“I did. Hopefully it helps. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. I know Leon is just doing his job but… you’re my sister. Making sure you’re comfortable here is my top priority.”

Vince finishes making breakfast, once again bringing two plates to the table before sitting across from me.

You speak up once more while you’re eating, “so, what’s on the agenda today?”

“I have to help out on the farm, that’s usually what I do most days. You’re more than welcome to join me, but if you don’t, I understand.”

You nod, thinking back to your time spent living with your grandparents. They had lived on a large farm and your grandfather made the two of you do almost all the upkeep. Your brother would take care of the livestock and farm maintenance while you would tend to the garden, it was brutal work for children. Regardless of the unpleasant memories, you weren’t about to sit back and let your brother do all the work.

“Sure, I’ll help out, just let me know what needs to be done.”

Within the hour, the two of you had made your way to the farm. It is a ways away from the village, requiring another short hike to get there. Once getting there, Vince is tasked with repairing some of the farm equipment while you helped feed and groom some of the livestock. You’re in the middle of wrangling up the pigs to feed them when out of the corner of your eye, you see someone approach your brother. You recognize the cargo pants and the tight fitting black athletic t-shirt immediately and that can only mean one thing:

It’s Leon.

You avert your eyes, bringing your focus back to pouring the feed into the trough, however, you steal quick glances at Leon and your brother as they speak to each other. Leon has short blonde hair and obviously takes very good care of himself; even you could see the way the sleeve of his t-shirt forms over his biceps.

“Hey Sis, come ‘ere!” Vince calls, beckoning you to join him with a motion of his hand.

You put down the bag of feed, silently cursing to yourself before walking over, standing close to your brother when you approach. Now that Leon isn’t wearing that black cloak he had on yesterday, you’re able to get a better look at him and, holy hell, were you not prepared. Leon is incredibly handsome, easily the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on. You found yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your eyes rake over him; taking in the way the straps of his gun harness and various belts hug his thighs, how his pectoral muscles strain against that tight shirt. And, of course, those gorgeous blue eyes.

Oh no… you think to yourself, he’s hot…

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Leon begins as he holds out his gloved hand; you don’t hesitate to shake it, “I’m Leon Kennedy; I’m in charge of making sure the community is a safe place for everyone.”

His voice is as smooth as whiskey, causing your heart to race in your chest as you tell him your name, “it’s very nice to meet you Leon.”

Leon gives you a half smile which makes your heart swoon; this man is way too attractive for his own good. He must realize it because he gives you a playful wink which, thankfully, your brother missed.

“Likewise,” Leon continues, giving your hand one more squeeze before letting go and looking to your brother “I also came over because Manuel just came in with a haul of fish from the lake, he needs help unloading the boat.”

“Of course, I’ll be right over,” Vince replies, setting down his tools.

“Is it alright if I come along?” you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets as you shift on your feet.

“Yeah of course,” Vince replies, “the dock isn’t far from here; I’d love for you to come see the lake.”

Just as your brother walks away to go to the dock, Leon gives you a pat on the side of your shoulder, giving you another playful wink as he whispers, “I’ll see you around, little bird.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch Leon walk away. The nickname he had given you goes straight to your core, causing you to clench your hands as your fingers tingle.

“Sis, are you coming or not?” Vince calls out to you some ways away from the archway leading out of the farm.

“Sorry Vince! I’m coming!” you shout as you jog over to your brother, joining him as you both make your way to the lake.

By the time you two get to the dock, several other men from the village are also there helping Manuel unload the haul from his fishing trip. Vince quickly joins them as you stand at the head of the dock. As your eyes scan over the vast lake, the sights, sounds and smells once again take you back to your childhood. To the times when you and your brother would go down to a small pond that was on your grandparents’ property to have some semblance of fun. The sound of a door opening behind you causes you to draw your attention away from the lake.

You watch two men come out of what you can only assume is Manuel’s house carrying what appears to be a very large sack. Your gaze tracks them as they walk across the property, stopping at a cave opening that’s blocked off by a large gate. They stop at the gate as one of them goes to unlock the gate. You quickly realize that the large sack is moving violently. Once they get the gate open, they carry the sack inside, shutting and locking it behind them before disappearing into the darkness of the cave. You swallow hard as you draw your attention back to the lake, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

Something is very wrong about this place and you feel whatever it is, it’s behind that gate.

“Will you be ok here at the house tonight?” Vince asks over dinner.

“Yeah, why?” you ask as you take a bite out of your meal.

“We have a community gathering tonight. It will likely go well into the night. I just want to make sure you’ll be ok here by yourself.”

You look up at Vince, raising an eyebrow, “I can’t come with you?”

Vince shakes his head, “not this time. This is for members of the Los Iluminados community only.”

This only serves to unsettle you even more, especially after seeing that large sack get brought into that cave earlier that day. Not wanting to upset your brother, however, you simply swallow hard and shrug it off.

“No problem, I’ll be fine, Vince.”

“Good, thank you Sis.”

Your brother leaves the house after cleaning up, leaving you alone in the house. You take that opportunity to go up to the bedroom, settling yourself onto the bed. As you lay there, your mind wanders back to Leon and you find yourself quickly becoming hot and bothered. Taking off your jeans so that you’re just in your shirt and underwear, your hand slips under the hem of your panties, your fingers gently rubbing your clit as you lay your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes. You picture Leon perfectly, imagining it is his fingers rubbing your clit, imagining his hot breath on your ear as he leans over you.

“That’s it, little bird. Doesn’t that feel good?”

A soft whimper escapes your lips as you hear the words your mind has conjured; who would have thought a silly nickname would get you so riled up. You pick up the pace of your fingers, your hips bucking up into your hand as you chase your release. You softly moan his name over and over as your pussy walls clench around nothing, secretly wishing he was buried inside you. You then move your fingers in a circular motion rapidly and within minutes you come undone, practically screaming Leon’s name as your body convulses. In the heat of the moment, your elbow crashes into the small bedside table, causing it to tip over, causing the contents of a small drawer to spill all over the floor.

The abrupt crash immediately snaps you out of your fantasy. You sit up in the bed and stand up, picking up the items that had fallen out of the bedside table. A crudely made leather bound book catches your attention; you sit down onto the side of the bed and open it. The text inside is handwritten and you quickly realize once you start reading it that it’s your brother’s journal. You know you shouldn’t be reading it, but a part of you is hoping that it reveals what exactly is going on in this community.

March? 2006

I’ve completely lost track of time since Josh and I were brought here. I found this notebook inside the building they brought us in, so I figured I’d use it to chronicle what’s been going on in case someone else finds it. It was Josh’s idea to go backpacking across Europe. I regret not telling my sister where I was going; she must be worried sick!

This group, called Los Iluminados, promised us a paradise on Earth. A place for us to disconnect from the world and detox and it doesn’t take a genius to know I definitely need that. They didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Josh is my boyfriend despite being a religious group, so that was refreshing.

You stop reading for a moment, absorbing the information you just learned. Your brother is gay. It came as a complete shock to you, however upon looking back, it’s a wonder you hadn’t realized it sooner. It certainly explains why your grandfather was especially hard on Vince. Why didn’t he tell you? You can’t help but feel hurt by the fact your brother wasn’t comfortable enough telling you. You set aside these emotions for the time being and continue to read.

They injected both of us with something, said it would help us with the detox process. And then they brought us into the basement of one of the houses. It’s almost pitch black down here, the only indication of time passing is from the faint streaks of light coming down from the floorboards. It’s a miracle I can even see what I’m writing. I feel ok, but Josh on the other hand isn’t looking good at all. He’s broken out into a rash and he won’t stop sweating. He keeps saying everything hurts. What the fuck did they inject us with?

March… Maybe April? 2006

It’s been a few days since they first locked us into this basement. I keep coughing up blood and having weird dreams, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad. Josh on the other hand isn’t doing well at all, he’s been violently convulsing and hacking up way more blood than I have. I don’t think he’s going to make it.

April 2006

They came down into the basement and took Josh, he had gotten worse from when I had written earlier. They came back later and examined my eyes, saying my blood had accepted the gift, whatever that means. They led me out of the basement and gave me one of the houses. They say I’m part of the community now. I don’t know what happened to Josh.

There are no new entries in the journal after that. You’re completely overwhelmed with emotions, both from what you learned about your brother and the implications of what happened to his boyfriend Josh. All of this just further cemented the fact that you had to find out what lies beyond that gate you saw them bring that sack into.

After picking up the mess and tucking the journal safely back inside the bedside table, you go to bed where your mind enters the realm of dreams which have been invaded by thoughts of Leon.

The next morning, your brother informs you that the two of you will be going over to Father Méndez’s house to have dinner. The house itself is grandiose, we’re immediately greeted with the large dining room table already laid out with food and drinks. The dinner itself is largely uneventful, Father Méndez asks you a lot of questions about living in the United States and how you’re liking your stay with the community. As the dinner wears on, you realize that this is a golden opportunity to try to find some answers.

You abruptly stand up, “sorry I need to excuse myself for a moment. Where’s the bathroom, Father?”

Father Méndez motions to the archway over to the left, “through there, sweetheart.”

You smile at him and nod in acknowledgement, “thank you Father, if you excuse me…”

You walk through the archway, finding a set of stairs going up to the second floor of the house. You look over at the dinner table, waiting until Father Méndez is completely focused on your brother before silently ascending the stairs. At the top is another hallway. You carefully walk to the end of it, finding what you guess is the master bedroom, a large four poster bed immediately to your right, a dresser to the left and a small desk next to the window ahead of you.

You slowly walk up to the desk, which is covered in various papers that have words written in Spanish on them. You then open up one of the drawers and you suck in a breath at what you find. It’s an ornate key, embellished with the same weird cross symbol that you saw back at the church and, now that you think about it, the gate by the dock also had this same symbol. This key has to go to that gate, you’re sure of it. You softly close the drawer, tucking the key into your pocket.

“What are you doing in here?” you hear Father Méndez ask.

You jump as you turn around, placing your hand over your racing heart, “Father I’m so sorry! I got lost looking for the bathroom.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but then smiles at you warmly, “that’s quite alright, I wasn’t clear in my direction. It’s downstairs, the door on the right just before the back door, follow me and I can show you.”

You allow Father Méndez to lead you to the bathroom, which is quite literally a hole in a raised part of the floor. The smell coming out of it almost knocks you out. Despite this, you spend a couple minutes in there to make it convincing before you return to the dinner table, all the while fiddling with the key in your pocket.

You and your brother finish up dinner with Father Méndez, getting back home just before it gets dark. You excuse yourself and go to bed early, claiming to be exhausted from socializing. You sit on the side of the bed, twirling the key you found in your fingers as you examine it as you listen for confirmation that your brother is asleep. It takes a couple hours, but you hear the telltale signs of your brother’s snoring. Getting up from the bed, you walk over to the window over by the stairs, carefully opening it and climbing out. It leads you outside on some crude scaffolding, you quickly find a ladder to climb down.

The waxing moon casts a gentle glow throughout the village, which you use to your advantage as you make your way to the dock area. You walk crouched, trying to use the environment to mask your movements, hoping to not draw anyone’s attention. You eventually make it to the gate, looking around before digging the key out of your pocket, putting it into the keyhole and turning. As you suspected, the key unlocks the gate with ease and you push on it gently, the gate letting out a soft squeak as it swings open. You shut the gate behind you, making your way inside the cave.

Once you get to the back of the cave, you come across another gate, pushing it open to find a furnished room filled with various root vegetables and supplies. Upon stepping in, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of decay, bringing your shirt up over your nose to mask the smell. It doesn’t take long for you to find the source. To your right, there is a person on their knees, held up by their wrists on a rope. You hesitantly approach, finding that it’s a young woman, her skin pitch black in decay and that weird cross symbol painted on her face with blood. You fight back the bile building up in your mouth.

“I fucking knew it,” you say to yourself, “this is a fucking cult.”

You take another look around, spotting a ladder leading upwards through the floor in the back. You hesitantly approach it and begin climbing up. As you ascend to the top, you are greeted by another horror; an altar with another young woman laid onto it, her blood completely covering it. You see her hands are tied behind her back. You walk around the altar to face her. She has that same symbol painted onto her face. Her skin still has color to it, suggesting that she hasn’t been dead for very long. You begin to suspect that this woman was in that sack that you saw carried into the cave.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you hear Father Méndez’s voice boom from behind you.

You spin around and face him, he’s standing straight with his hands neatly folded in front of him.

“What the hell kind of operation do you have here?!” you shout, balling your fists, “I knew something wasn’t right about this place. I’m taking my brother, we’re leaving and reporting you to the authorities!”

A low chuckle comes out of Father Méndez, “her blood did not accept the gift. You, however, may have better luck.”

Méndez brings one hand up, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, two men that had been standing behind you grab you by your arms, twisting them behind your back as you struggle as hard as you can. You watch as Father Méndez reaches into his coat pocket, producing a large hypodermic needle. As you struggle, Father Méndez begins to approach you. Your gaze shifts to the figure standing just behind him, seeing that Leon is standing there, watching, back to wearing that large black cloak, the hood mostly obscuring his face. All you can see is a menacing smirk that is on his lips.

“Sis calm down, it’s going to be ok!” you hear your brother, quickly realizing he is one of the men that is restraining you, “my blood accepted the gift, I’m certain yours will, too.”

“Vince!” you cry out, turning to him, “do you hear yourself? This is insane!”

Father Méndez looms in front of you, grabbing the side of your head and pushing it to expose your neck, wasting no time inserting the needle into your skin, injecting the strange liquid into your body. Whatever it is, it burns. You feel it spread across your neck as you continue to struggle, tears now flowing down your face.

“Bring her to the holding area,” Father Méndez commands.

Without any hesitation, your brother and the man helping to restrain you bring you back down through the hole you had come up out of, carrying you out of the cave as you kick and scream. They bring you to Manuel’s house, carrying you inside. In the back of the house, there is a trap door. The other man retraining you kicks the trap door open before he and your brother gently lower you inside. Once on the ground, you scramble to your feet and stare up at the opening, seeing your brother stare down at you, only, there’s something very off about him. Black veins cover his skin and his eyes are glowing red.

“Vince, you can’t do this! You need to get me out of here!”

“I’m sorry, Sis,” he says softly before slamming the trap door shut.

You stand there in utter shock as you hear the door being locked, trapping you in the pitch black darkness.

Part 3

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove #gigabyte writes

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slippinmickeys · 11 days ago

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Keva sent me a Funfetti prompt on Bluesky, which was fun because it was just a picture. Of...you'll see.

A February day like the world cracked open, crystalline and pure. There was snow in the air, there was frost on the glass.

“Gonna need to replace those windows,” said Mulder into his pillow, though Scully couldn’t help but admire the paisley hoar, the delicate whorl of paper thin crystals. “Item 161 on the Shit The House Needs List.”

“You’re the one who begged to buy this house, Mulder,” she reminded him, rolling toward him and shoving her feet under the warm meat of his legs. From beside the bed, the baby monitor hissed quietly.

“You agreed to it.”

“The price was right.”

“I paid for it.”

“It’s only redeeming quality,” she said jauntily, rolling closer to him and pushing the cold tip of her nose into his neck. “And now you get to pay for its upkeep.”

The first eleven months of William’s life had been a slow merging of their individual ones, until the night of Mulder’s fortieth birthday when he wondered aloud why he was still paying for his apartment when he hadn’t set foot in it in months. Upon blowing out the candles on his Snoball, he declared the desire to buy them all a house.

She pressed a kiss into his skin. “It’s hideous,” she murmured into him.

“It’s got good bones.”

“It’s got zero curb appeal.”

“There are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see,” Mulder said, then rolled over quickly, pinning Scully beneath him in one slick move.

She looked up at him with surprise. With interest.

“I won’t sit idly by while you lay there and burgle my warmth,” he said, a sly grin creeping up one cheek.

“I was once told that the best way to regenerate body heat was to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with somebody else who is already naked.”

Mulder smiled. “Sleeping bags aren’t necessary Scully, I intend to get lucky,” he said, lowering his mouth to the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the flick of his tongue.

And then from the baby monitor, the dulcet tones of “Dada! Dada!”

They both groaned, and Mulder thunked his head into Scully’s shoulder.

“Well…” she said, giving his back a conciliatory rub. “Maybe tonight.”

Mulder lifted his head.

“Here me out,” he said. “I think we have time.” He thrust himself almost experimentally against her once.

Scully considered for a moment, turned her head so she could better hear the smaller noises William was making over the baby monitor when:

“DadadadaDADADA!”

Mulder fell to Scully’s side in defeat.

“I’ll keep the bed warm for you,” she said, checking to make sure she didn’t need to change into a different pajama top for easier nursing.

Mulder made a whining sound.

“Why do I have to go when it’s you he wants?”

“He’s not calling for me,” Scully said innocently. He was one hundred percent correct. The boy would be thrilled to see his father walk into his nursery, but the second Scully came into view, he would attempt to tip himself out of his father’s arms with all the strength he could muster until he found himself in his mother’s.

“‘Dada’ is the only word he can say.”

“A fact I recall you bragging about to anyone within earshot for the better part of the last week.”

“Scully…” he whined.

“To the victor go the spoils,” she said, and shimmied herself further under the covers.

Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Mulder rose from the bed and quickly donned sweats and a tee shirt, shuffling out of their bedroom in a leather pair of slippers ‘William’ had gotten him for Christmas.

“Good morning!” Scully heard him say good-naturedly over the monitor before she leaned over and switched it off, smiling to herself.

A few minutes later Mulder came shuffling back in carrying their son, who squealed happily upon seeing his mother.

“Good morning, William!” she said with a happy smile.

As they approached her side of the bed, Mulder grinned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom,” he said, then turned to look importantly at their son. “Want to give her her present?”

“Da!” the baby babbled, and leaned out of Mulder’s arms and into Scully’s.

Scully sat him on her lap briefly, and in the hand that had been tucked into Mulder’s side appeared a small red and yellow plushie that went directly into his mouth.

“My goodness!” Scully exclaimed happily. “What’s this?”

Mulder flopped into the bed next to them and propped himself up on an elbow.

William took the opportunity to tilt himself forward and reach for Scully’s top.

“Breakfast first, huh?” she said, and adjusted both baby and herself so the boy could nurse.

He waved the plushie about as he latched, and Scully finally got a good look at it.

“Wait,” she said. “Mulder is that a…” She turned to look at him and he grinned.

The plushie was a bee. Slightly anthropomorphized with an adorable chubby face, smile, and antenna, holding a heart that said “BEE MINE” in looping cursive.

“You’re kidding.” She turned to Mulder, who chuckled. “Where’d you two find this?”

“The grocery store,” he answered airily.

“My Valentine’s Day gift is from the grocery store?” Mock outrage.

“Your birthday is in nine days and I’ve got a mortgage to pay,” Mulder breezed. “Besides, he really liked it.”

“That much is apparent,” Scully said, looking down at her son who was happily suckling, his hand wrapped around the bee in a death grip.

“You like it?”

“It’s charming,” she answered. “And as inside jokes go, it’s very…you.”

Mulder leaned forward to press a kiss to her cheek and then one to the side of William’s head. “I think of it less as an inside joke and more a message of devotion.”

She quirked a look at him.

“I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, Scully,” he said simply, then rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, leaving her in a state of rather stunned emotional tumult.

She sat in silence for a moment, her equilibrium shaken. Mulder chose that moment to bring her back to herself.

“Oh,” he said, reappearing in the doorway with a toothbrush sticking half out of his mouth. “Be careful. I think it’s got a lot of drool on the one antenna.”

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #au #prompt #funfetti #picture prompts are actually really fun #send more #open to all prompts

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theroyalsims · 3 months ago

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QUEEN GIFTS ANYA AND GUS THEIR VERY OWN "STARTER PALACE"

Where should a Prince and Princess live? In a palace, of course, and the Queen seems to agree! Her Majesty gifted the royal newlyweds a lavish 112-room palace, located right in the heart of the country.

Several reports confirm that Her Majesty has handed over the keys of the magnificent Mulberry Palace to Gus and Anya! The impressive 270-year old Palace is among the privately-owned residences of the Royal Family.

Located in Brindlebridge, Mulberry Palace sits within Mulberry Park and boasts acres upon acres of land, complete with scenic views and thriving wildlife - perfect for outdoorsy Anya and Gus.

It also has a reflecting pool, a grand fountain, formal gardens, perfectly manicured lawns, and a detached observatory! We can only imagine the upkeep, because the property also boasts five kitchens, two ballrooms, an indoor pool, and even a bowling alley!

But as Palaces go, it's apparently on the "smaller" side, and the Queen thought it would be a great training ground, a "starter palace" of sorts, for the future Queen and her consort. A royal expert shares:

"Mulberry is a stunning property, and while its vast grounds and a hundred something rooms are certainly impressive, it's on the smaller scale, as palaces go. For context, Brindleton Palace has over 800 rooms, and Briar Palace - the Queen's country retreat - boasts over 600 rooms. But, again, that's not to diminish Mulberry in any way. I've been fortunate enough to visit, and its art collection alone will make your jaw drop. It may be small, but it's incredibly luxurious. It's big without being too big, and I think Her Majesty recognises its potential as the perfect setting to raise a young family... a starter palace, so to speak."

The Queen also reportedly thought that the property would be perfect for Gus and Anya, who are both very active and love the outdoors. The expert further spills:

"It has all the modern luxuries anyone could want, and since Mulberry is a private residence, they can also explore the grounds in peace, without the nosy public prying and taking photos. This is a great place to relax and unwind for those two. I can already see Anya riding her horses, and Gus going on a run around the Palace grounds."

The wedding gift came in a little late, because, apparently, some minor renovations and improvements had to be done to ensure that everything is in tip-top shape for Their Royal Highnesses.

No news yet on whether Gus and Anya will be calling Mulberry their official residence. Currently, the lovebirds reside in Agneau House, and their office is also based there, too.

But seeing as Mulberry Palace is a long drive from the city (about three hours by car), we're guessing they'll continue to stay in Agneau and spend their holidays in Mulberry. Guess we'll have to see!

'Grats on the new digs, Your Royal Highnesses! When's the housewarming party, and are we invited?

#ts4 #thesims4 #ts4 simblr #simblr #royal simblr #ts4 royals #ts4 royal #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal story #ts4 royal legacy #mystory #theroyalsims #gus #anya #mulberry #royal wedding

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stellayuta · 2 years ago

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Rin doing Yoga in the anime had me bawlinggg idk why It also put the image of Yoga Sex with Rin in my mind and now I can't stop thinking about ittt

How about writing something about that?

thanks for putting the image in my head too

mdni, 18+ only

★Rin Itoshi - Yoga S*x☆

The 'R' in Rin stood for routine. He was awake by 5 AM and done with his early morning strength training and jog by 7 AM. To ease the pain of exhausting his stamina and muscles at dawn, he chose Yoga as a means to stretch his body out and soothe the soreness. The upkeep of being a pro footballer was not a regular man's deal after all.

You had never seen his routine ever before because you loved your sleep more than Rin did. In fact, you only knew about his routine in detail because his sports manager scolded him because he refused to take a break from working out even during his off time from the football season. You on the other hand, if there wasn't a reason to wake up before 8:00 AM, you won't. That was the law. Usually, you'd just join a freshly rejuvenated Rin for a hearty breakfast with a yawn and kickstart your day.

One fine morning though, you were forced awake by the sheer heat of the house. It was the middle of the harshest summer Japan had to offer as of late, and you were hoping that for whatever reason the AC was off, it'd better be a good one. You got out of the bed, kicking the musty sheets away from you and swiped at the sweat forming on your forehead. You were melting away even when you were only in a pair of skimpy shorts and a paper-thin tank top. You checked the time before you made your way out of your bedroom - 7:00 AM. The rest of the house was a degree cooler than your oven-like bedroom, but it was enough for you to forget where the thermostat was. That's when you remember that it was Rin who usually handled the thermostat. Maybe it was him who switched the AC off? But... why?

You make your way to the living room to locate the thermostat and are greeted by the most astonishing and unexpected sight right in front of you.

Rin Itoshi's bare back is facing you as he stretches himself out into complicated poses on his yoga mat while soaking in the radiant sun seeping in from the open windows. There is not a single item of clothing on his body. He sighs as he skillfully changes positions and focuses on the left side of his body, balancing himself on the mat. You gawk at his marvelous form as Rin's body shines lusciously under the sunlight, as if lathered by coconut oil and Epsom salts and his own sweat - which it probably is.

"Rin?" you call out without meaning to, making the Itoshi jerk his head up in confusion and smiling when he sees you.

"You up early?" he asks as if he isn't laid out in front of you like a whole meal ready to be ravished.

"Well, the AC woke me up." you say honestly, approaching him as he seats himself on his mat in a lotus pose. You stare at how his limp member and ball sack hang, tucked inside his folded thighs. That's all you can stare at or pay attention to now as you feel a shiver creep up your core and you press your legs together.

"That was my bad. I'm sorry, I usually do this out on the balcony but the neighbors are doing garden-work and obviously, I don't want them to see." he says. Foolish Rin...

"Have you been out on the balcony doing yoga butt naked everyday?" you exclaim. "Rin! People other than the neighbors can see you too you idiot!"

"Are you worried someone might click pictures?" he asks coyly, holding out his hand to entrap yours. It is all slick and sticky with oil and heats up your body even more.

"Have you seen yourself? Anyone would." You say, playing with the hem of your shorts with your other hand. Things are getting sticky inside your body too now.

"Want to try it?" Rin asks, already sliding your shorts down your bare thighs. You don't sleep with underwear on when wearing those pair of shorts. "Oh, look at that." Rin says, cocking his head at the bare delta of your womanhood.

"Come here." he says, kissing your mound generously making you whimper. You grab at his green hair and try to stop yourself from crumbling.

"Y/N. Position your knee like this." he says, folding you knee and pressing your foot to the thigh of your other leg.

"Hands up and palms together." he demands and you follow, keenly trying to balance on one leg. "That's the tree pose." he tells you and you nod. "Great position for what I'm about to do." he says with a smirk, inching closer, his lower lashes hitting your thighs.

The way Rin ravages you over the next few minutes has you praying you don't fall over. The position gives Rin enough freedom to hit some of the most stubborn and well-hidden bundles of nerve inside you with relative ease. His tongue is as flexible as his body was a while ago. You are left croaking as Rin digs his nails into the sides of thighs, shamelessly making slurping noises as he eats you out. Soon enough, you let your hands free from the pose and start rolling your hips onto his face, eyeing him from the top - his reactions, the way his brows tense up, the way he looks up at you occasionally. You force him to hit your most sensitive innards as you finally come undone on his tongue and face without asking. Unbeknownst to you, the lewdness of the whole situation and Rin's skill made you come a LOT. As your eyes are shut and you are unable to process anything around you, Rin is collecting your plentiful essence in his palms. When you finally come to and regain your usual breathing rhythm you find Rin playing with the sticky substance in his hands.

"R-rin?" you ask, eyelids half closed. "What are you doing with that, wipe it off!"

"Nah." Rin says, keeping his eyes on your cum in his hands. "I was in a dilemma since I ran out of oil for you, but you solved my problem." he says and it takes a second for you to understand what he's about to do.

He takes his palms and rubs them all over your body. Your chest, your hips, your navel and your thighs.

"Feel good?" he asks, pressing your back to make you lay on the ground on all fours. "Feels good to be covered in your own slick?"

"Anything for you, Rinnie." you say, wondering why he is pulling one of your legs horizontally. "You're so weird you know."

"I know." he admits. "Balancing Table Pose."

"Wha-?" Before you can finish your question though, Rin rams full force into you from behind. "Keep you other hand up, pretty please. I don't like it when the form is incorrect."

you sniff as your muscles hurt from maintaining the pose. Yet still, after a few seconds your body gets used to it and the pleasure doubles as one each of your arms and legs is up in the air while Rin's pace increases. He presses his chest against your back and keeps the rhythm going, pounding in and out savagely. His angle is so unpredictable, his length is going left and right and top and bottom inside of you, making you scream his name in pleasure. You feel the head of his member in full intensity with one leg up and you feel it's bulbous shape ebb at your cervix with how long Rin is. You so want to see how red his tip is, how angrily it must be leaking out pre-cum right now.

"Ah, just a bit more." he says next to your ear, huffing and puffing as he increases the power of his thrust as you feel your eyes roll back into your head.

"Ah, There. Yes!" Rin scrunches up his face. "Yes!" his tongue lolls out - an occurrence when he is at peak pleasure.

He empties himself inside of you as you feel your abdomen fill up with his sticky liquid.

"There we go." he says, gasping and pulling himself out of you as you drip all over onto his mat, sinking to your knees.

"Session Complete." he says, bringing his towel to your hole.

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intimacyequalsdeath · 1 year ago

Text

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 22: Billy Loomis

For day 22 I decided to give the ghostface girlies another treat for this month. Plus since I've only done Poly ghostface so far technically this isn't overlapping and it's an entirely separate person (I've been running out of people to write NSFW alphabets for without too many characters getting two or three fics)

Notes: Minors DNI, NSFW, Smut.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

Billy loves pillow talk, he could stay up for hours afterwards just talking to you about anything and everything going on in your lives. If you know about Ghostface he enjoys telling you about what him and Stu get up to when you aren't around.

He also likes to clean you both up too, not much lovey dovey shit though since he wants to focus on cleaning the mess and being able to relax with you.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

His favorite body part on him (Besides his hair) are his arms. I've always taken him as the guy who works out at least a little. Plus with all the Ghostface stuff he's gotta have at least some muscle there. He's overall quite proud of his body.

On you he loves your thighs. No matter how thick or not they are he thinks their great. No matter if your sitting in your bedroom or next to him in the cafeteria he's always got a hand on them making sure everyone else knows who you belong too.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Billy's not trying to risk anything at all even if you can't get pregnant so he always pulls out. He likes to cum on your chest but your face is also a close second for him.

D is for Dirty Secret:

Before you and Billy got super close to where the two of you began a relationship, you were probably close to the top of the Ghostface list. He'd never tell you but he thought at first you were just like everyone else at school so he had no qualms with going after you until he realized you weren't and found himself becoming attracted to you.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

Billy is Billy. He's got loads of experience in both one night stands after parties and actual relationships. That doesn't make him the best boyfriend in the entire world, but he's not entirely stupid on how to make the relationship work.

F is for Favorite Position:

Billy surprisingly is a simple guy. He likes missionary cause he loves looking into your eyes and watching what he does to you as he whispers gentle praises in your ear.

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

He can laugh a little and get cocky during sex. He's not the most serious person ever by a long shot but he also is gonna stick to his goal of making you both cum.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

The king at taking care of himself. He keeps himself well groomed pretty much everywhere. I mean he does have an image at school to upkeep.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

Billy has romance down to a science. He isn't afraid to break out all the bells and whistles to really knock you off your feet. Like I said he's good at this shit both putting on a facade and actually meaning it.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

He does it pretty regularly whether he's with you or not. It's something to pass the time when he's board waiting for Stu for Ghostface shit and he just actually enjoys doing it so why not.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Bondage, Billy loves to tie you up and leave you desperate for him. Bonus points if you cry and beg him to fuck you while he's doing it.

I could also see him having a slight daddy kink, or maybe at least calling him sir or something. He loves having that sort of power over you. He's also got a major corruption kink that I think is pretty self explanatory.

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

He like it best on a bed or a couch. He also really enjoys the times neither of you can wait till you get to either of your houses so he pulls over to the side of the road and you do it in the back of his car.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

He loves when you surprise him with skimpy outfits. He also really enjoys when you wear these outfits to school or out and about with him so he can stare at you and get a list together of everything he's going to do to you later.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

He's not gonna share you (Maybe with Stu since I am a fan of Poly Ghostface), You're his and he's not willing to let anyone else touch you.

He also won't ever like physically strike you, He just isn't into shit like that and doesn't think it actually has any purpose besides hurting you.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

Really big on both giving and receiving. Is maybe just a tad more into receiving since he thinks your amazing at it, but he's not afraid to have you for a meal here and there.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

Billy loves to be a bit rough around the edges but he likes to take things slow. He's really into savoring the moments the with you and making it a nice experience for the both of you.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

Billy likes quickies, if you can't make it to a bed or anywhere to do the whole shebang he'll go for a quickie in maybe the back of his car or a random janitors closest.

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

He has his particular things he's just not into and not going to try but he is down to experiment with some things. I could see it also being something you have to bring up for him to even give it a second thought. He just knows what he's into and is satisfied with it.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

He can go for a while, maybe a good few hours. He does like to give you breaks though as he knows he can get rougher especially when he starts to get tired towards the end.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

I could see him having a few things himself to use when he jerks off and stuff, but most of the hardcore toys he saves for you if your into it. He will also be really into buying you toys to try out that caught his eye.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

He teases a good bit cause he likes to rile you up, but he's never gonna be to terribly mean about it. It's more so just playful teasing to get you worked up.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

Billy audibly moans a lot but he's not the loudest with it. He likes when your loud so anyone who's around knows who makes you feel that good but he himself doesn't get that loud.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

Out of all the outfits, he likes pink frilly things the best. There's something so innocent about it to him that he likes to corrupt. That if you really wanna get him worked up show up in some pink frilly shit.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

A good six inches. He's about medium in girth too and the shaft itself is pretty straight. Perfect for hitting all the good spots.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

It fluctuates, it can be high if your working him up, but he usually isn't ready to go at the drop of a hat.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

Like in aftercare he likes to talk to you afterwards so he's not gonna fall asleep for awhile. You'll most likely be the one to fall asleep first and shortly after you since he'll have no one to talk to he will fall asleep himself.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #halloween #fictober #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #scream movie #scream #billy loomis smut

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jeanjauthor · 25 days ago

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What would be the top five non-natural (like a river or forests) things for a land to have that makes it super rich? in medieval times

Ouff...non-natural?

A really good agrarian situation, so that there is a food surplus instead of a lack. This includes good farming techniques and good animal husbandry practices, fertilizing, irrigation, flood management, coppicing skills for renewable wood resources, etc. Food surplus means that everyone has good nutrition and thus the strength to take on more tasks beyond the hard-scrabble life of hand-to-mouth subsistence living. In the latter situation, all of your time & attention is devoted to getting barely enough to eat to survive, but if you have good agrarian practices and take the time to educate yourself & others (observation, experimentation, sharing of ideas), then you can gradually turn things around, making acquiring a surplus of food much, much easier, freeing up your time and giving you more energy for other things.

A really good attitude of being charitable toward the less fortunate, so that the excess foods and other goods don't go to waste. A society that encourages sharing and discourages hoarding is going to be richer overall than one where a few control all the resources while simultaneously refusing to share them. This could include the royals, but it also could simply include a better-off neighbor who shares with one whose crops were wrecked by a bad flood.

A strong crafting industry, so that there are plenty of people who know how to build safe houses, good furniture, sturdy baskets, leak-proof barrels, excellent pottery for cooking and food storage, tiles or thatching for leak-resistant roofing, fiber crafts for durable clothing and stout ropes that don't break easily, so on and so forth. Once you have enough spare food that you don't have to spend every single moment getting that food to eat, you will have the time and the energy to practice various techniques and find ways to improve everything you make, which leads to a better quality of life overall for everyone over time.

A leadership that genuinely cares about making things better for everyone, (and by that, I mean the nobles & royals, clergy, mayors & burghers, clan leaders, etc). This includes trying to figure out ways to mitigate and manage natural disasters like flooding, making retention ponds for irrigation in case of drought, encouraging the basic freedoms of people so that they're able to go find careers that they honestly enjoy rather than being essentially a slave to a plot of land, and taxing just enough to pay for these public works (along with paying for the upkeep of defensive forces) without over-taxing the people. If all you have are leaders that hog all the resources to themselves, don't care about protecting their people from wild animals or enemy raiders, etc, you are not going to create and maintain a land that is rich. Personal wealth =/= national wealth, and all that.

Good relations & alliances with other groups. And not just for national safety reasons, though that one is perfectly valid! No, this is for trading reasons. No single location is ever going to "have it all" in terms of natural resources. During the Bronze Age, the only location within a couple thousand miles of the Mediterranean that had tin deposits existing closer than 500+ miles of copper was in the south of of the British Isles (like 80 miles at most, iirc). So in order to make good quality bronze, you had to be good neighbors, good trading partners, etc, with people far away from you as well as within your own country / territory. During the Middle Ages, the best wool was considered to come from the British Isles, but the best weavers were in Flanders on mainland Europe. The best dyes came from various places all across the land, so if you wanted high-quality clothes in bright colors (and contrary to Hollywood's over-use of grim-dark, medieval people LOVED bright colors), you'd have to have good relations with several nations to be able to get all the quality ingredients to make that fancy outfit to wear to the next feast or festival. But if you're at war with England, you're going to have a hard time getting your hands on their best-quality wool without, y'know, engaging in combat to get it.

So those are what I'd pick to be the 5 top non-natural resources a land should have to be able to be rich.

And yes, people are a resource. People are your #1 resource, if they have plenty of food & education, and are protected from dangers by good leadership type people.

...If you wanted natural resources, I'd say a decent supply of safely potable water for drinking, cooking, and irrigation, good soil for growing food, plenty of wood for building stuff, some mineral deposits for metals and things like limestone for making plaster & mortar, and terrain that mitigates bad weather while still providing good transportation routes--aka lots of sun-facing farmland but with like some mountains or hills on the windward sides to blunt the forces of winter storms, and maybe some rivers that are navigable by boat as well as good solid ground for making transportation roads.

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hauntedjohnny · 1 year ago

Text

A PIECE OF MEAT

johnny x reader (est. relationship) | sissy x reader

wc: 7k tw: DUB-CON | NON-CON. bondage. gags. objectification. possession. knife play. blood play. oral sex (m+f). spanking. humiliation. nipple play. slapping. branding. p in v. breeding.

MINORS DNI

a/n: i seperated the sissy section in case anyone wants to skip it. this is my first fic. it may be my last. enjoy :)

It wasn't every day that you were left alone without company. It wasn't every day that you were given the power to tend to the family gas station. One misstep into one of Nubbin's macabre creations left Drayton off his feet, going off about how he can't count on no one around here.

His misfortune opened a door of opportunity for you; Drayton still hadn't warmed up to you completely, so you'd been trying to get on his good side by helping around the house. Hysterical giggles bounced off the walls of the house as Nubbins reenacted the mishap for Sissy and Bubba. The laughter trailed off as you made your way through the house to find Drayton sitting in the living room, his foot being iced by a slice of meat.

"I can't think straight with all this craziness going on," he murmured to himself, rubbing his temples to relieve the tension. Timidly, you approached him, giving a light cough to make your presence known.

"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sawyer, but I was just wondering if you were gonna need help with the gas station tomorrow." Gesturing to his legs, you trailed off. "Seeing as you're in no state to be on your feet all day n all."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes squinting at the proposal. Seeing nothing but sincerity in your eyes, he reluctantly shrugged his shoulders.

"Was thinking of just closing for that day," he hummed, tilting his head to the side, "but money is getting tight with that extra mouth of yours... I don't see why not." Your eyes widen in surprise, thinking he'd laugh at your offer. "Lord knows no one else in this house is competent enough for such a task."

That morning, he reluctantly gave you a ring of keys, slowly walking you through each one and what he expected of you that day. His patronizing tone was unable to dull the excitement buzzing through you; the prospect of spending the day out of the house alone was a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence. Turning the sign on the door to open, you started your day eagerly, repeating his rules in your head like a mantra.

It turns out all the regulars are dreary or crazed, the morning rush filled with short conversations and confused stares. Leaving the cool confines, you decided to refill the vending machine out front, the heat from the mid-day sun causing a wetness to form on the back of your tank top. A set of large tires rumbling against the gravel pulled your focus from the monotonous task. Turning to greet the customer, your eyes fell on the figure of a young man you'd never seen before.

"Howdy, miss. Sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could help me find my way. I appear to have found myself lost." He stated, raising the map with one hand and the other dragging through his blonde hair to soothe his nerves.

Drawn to his niceties, you smile and nod shyly. "Easy to get lost in these parts, with all the roads looking the same. Where you headed?"

"The Jackson ranch. It's my grandpa's; he needs help with upkeep in his old age. Stubborn bastard says he's fine but thought it wouldn't hurt to stay awhile." He chuckled bashfully.

Truthfully, you didn't really know where this ranch was. You barely knew the area from the house to the gas station. But this was the most interaction you'd had with anyone new in a while; surely it wouldn't hurt to pretend. The map was placed on the vending machine in front of you. You stared at the lines, trying to find your bearings, before a thick finger fell in front of your eyes, marking the gas station. With an awkward laugh, you placed your finger next to his and traced up the road you traveled this morning, trying to recall any ranches nearby. Drayton's voice comes to mind as he scolds Nubbins about straying too close to the graveyard, telling him to go no further than the Jackson ranch. Or was it the Johnson ranch? You bit your lip in contemplation, unaware of the man studying your face.

Deciding that he wouldn't call your bluff, you point close to the graveyard. "Should be around here, sir."

He scoffed at the title: "No need for those formalities; it wounds me seeing a pretty thing like yourself talk to me like I'm withered."

He introduces himself, presenting his hand for you to shake. You offer your name back, heat blooming in your cheeks at the compliment. Questions get thrown back and forth as you get to know each other, a breath of fresh air for both of you. Even the rumbling of a second set of tires isn't enough to drag you out of your bubble. Johnny observes you from the driver's seat as the man leans into you, causing a laugh to bubble from your chest. The movement of the truck door opening draws the man's attention. He cowers at the daggers being thrown his way, knowing he's overstepped in some way.

"I better be off, neighbour. I hope to be seeing more of you soon," he winks. You scoff at his forwardness, turning back to the vending machine as you say your farewell. What you didn't notice was the man lingering behind you as you bent down to grab the warm soda bottles, your denim shorts exposing the softness of your upper thighs. The roar of an engine signaled his departure as you went back to mindlessly refilling the machine, a soft hum filling the silence.

"Who was that?" A voice spoke beside you.

Glass hit the floor with a crash as you brought your hand to settle your startled heart, sticky soda seeping into the black boots of the man behind you. His shadow engulfed you, protecting you from the hot rays. The scowl forming on Johnny's face made you raise an eyebrow.

"Family of the Jackson Ranch; just need some help getting there, s'all," you reassured suspiciously, meeting his eye as you stood. He was standing so close that you could feel the growl emanating from his chest. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

"You always flirt like a needy whore with boys who need help?" Johnny's breath on your face sent a chill down your spine before settling into your core. Noses centimeters apart, you felt his nostrils flare at the thought. His mocking grin dared you to divulge your fiery heart's desires. Intensity radiates off him as his dark eyes stare you down. A moment passed.

"Only the pretty ones," you coyly provoked. The sudden force of being pushed against the machine winded you, with a strong grip on your throat preventing you from catching your breath. Despite this, a wolfish grin found its way to your face. You'd never seen a jealous Johnny. It was exciting. Responsibilities faded from your mind. Anticipation swirled in your eyes. Before you could poke the bear harder, he dropped his gloved hand from your throat and made his way to the back of his truck. You tried to blink away the confusion, watching him take a couple of jerry cans and fill them up with gas.

Abandoning the safety of the gas station, you tentatively followed Johnny's movement before speaking up, "I was only playing, Johnny. You know I don't have eyes for anyone else." There was a facetious ring to your tone.

You cleared the nerves out of your throat when he turned his back away from you. Rolling your bottom lip into your teeth, you sway impatiently, kicking the dust beneath you, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your frayed top. You desperately tried to come up with something to say as you watched him finish up with the cans, not wanting him to leave upset. As he walks past you, you paw at his shirt, causing him to stop in his tracks. Pleading eyes met void eyes. A whine of his name causes them to glaze over.

"In the truck." He demanded.

"Johnny, you know I can't leave this place unattended. I'd be kicked out quicker than a greased pig." You argued, words going in one ear and out the other.

"Now." He snarled, taking the keys from your pocket before sauntering to the gas station entrance.

Your tongue pokes at your cheek in annoyance, eyes rolling as you muttered curses under your breath. Stubborn bastard. The open sign turns to closed before you can close the truck door. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes meet Johnny's as he brings the engine to life. He turns away, pulling out of the gas station. Eyes not moving, you sit, waiting for the bomb to explode next to you. Johnny has never had control of his emotions.

You bit your tongue waiting for him to start, but your impatience won, causing you to meekly break the silence. "Johnny, I'm sorry. He really just needed help."

The wind whistled through the truck.

"Can't even notice when someone's eyein' ya up like a piece of meat, can ya?" His voice was calm and low—unsettling.

"Johnny, it wasn't like that. He was being neighbourly" you began defending yourself, rolling your eyes at the pending argument brewing.

Your words were met with nothing but a scoff—not the reaction you were expecting. Apprehensively, you glanced over at Johnny, expecting him to be staring back at you. His eyes were glued to the dusty road ahead of him. You could tell he was angry; he's always had a short fuse, but it never felt cold like it did now. Your eyes jumped around his face, desperately trying to understand what his problem was. Did he not trust you? His jaw clenched under your hot gaze, gloved hands tightening around the steering wheel as he adjusted himself in his seat slightly, trying to subdue the feelings buzzing inside him.

You lay your head against the window, hoping the coolness would soothe some anxiety, but you were only met with warmth where it had been out in the sun all day. The silence was more unbearable than the heated argument you expected, receiving nothing but a disapproving click of his tongue every time you tried to break it. A tight knot formed in your stomach as you replayed the interaction over and over. Had you been flirting with him? Sure, you may have smiled more than with the other customers, but they all speak in grunts; it was nice to have an actual conversation with someone. With a sigh, you focus on the fields turning into a blur of dusty yellow, frustration brewing in your chest.

You get broken out of your daze by a door slamming behind you, the vibrations shaking the truck. Your eyes follow him as he walks around the hood, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. A film of sweat has formed on his forehead, dark splotches colouring his shirt, speaking to how much physical work he'd done in the Texan morning heat.

A swing of your door caused a familiar gust of septic and blood to enter your nose—the slaughterhouse, the place where there's more iron in the air than water. Johnny's suede hand gripped your upper arm and pulled you out of the car, slamming the door behind you. He walked onward expectantly before you were able to spit out any questions. You'd never ventured past the parking lot of the slaughterhouse. The questions swirling in your head left you frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at the buildings in front of you. Did I mess up that badly? Was he going to kill me? A whistle echoes through the lot, causing you to lock eyes with Johnny standing in front of the unlocked facility building. A small smirk rose on his face as he watched you obediently scurry across the parking lot, stumbling over the short staircase on the way.

Now face-to-face with Johnny, he brought a hand to brush a loose hair behind your ears, eyes lazily dancing over your face as he read your every thought. You bit the inside of your cracked lip as you tried to do the same. With a light tap on your cheek, he moved out of the heat. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air you didn't realise you were depriving yourself of, before following Johnny into the facility building. Quick on his tail, he leads you through the crumbling corridors until you reach the other side. Overgrown weeds tickled at your ankles as you made your way to a worn-down building. It smelt earthier in here, the wooden walls sheltering you from the scalding sun. It wasn't the slaughterhouse he was taking you to; it was the... holding pen?

The question finally falls off your tongue. "What are we doing here, Johnny?"

He crossed his arms, the muscles bulging, as he dragged his eyes across your figure, "Well, darling, if you wanna act like a piece of meat, then imma treat you like one."

Your eyebrows furrowed as he slowly approached you, but before you could contest, he grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, pulling you deeper into the holding pen. He stopped in front of a wooden structure with three holes in it. It was clearly not designed for cattle; it was too small. Your squirming body had no effect on his actions as he unlocked the frame. The pleas falling from your lips dissolved into the thick air as he pushed you forward towards the pillory. Unable to catch your footing, you fell into place, your head and hands now bound by the wooden barriers. Hair fell onto your face, restricting your already limited view. You felt your breathing get heavier in anticipation, the crunch of boots on the dirty floor being the only indicator of Johnny's position.

The feeling of hands on your stomach made you tense. Johnny's fingers hastily unbuttoned your shorts and pulled them down your legs, discarding them in the dirt behind him. A soft huff left his lips as he pulled his knife out of the sheath on his belt. The warm air hits your breasts as he sheds you of your tank top. The only sound you could hear was the blood in your head—the buzzing getting louder as every second passed. You closed your eyes to try and quell the sound, but a strong grip on your jaw opened them instinctually. Johnny's eyes stared into your doe-like ones.

"Got anything to say to me?"

A beat passed.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny. Really, I promise I didn't mean to," you whine out, words melting together, before being hushed by a low chuckle and finger tapping your lips.

He slowly rose from his hunched position as he tutted, "Not quite the answer I wanted, but I guess that's on me. How am I to expect you to know how to use your tongue when you can't even use your eyes? What stupid slut can't tell the difference between a neighbourly gaze and a sexual one?"

He undid the buckle of his belt and unzipped his jeans, revealing the leaking tip of his penis against his stomach. You were dumbfounded. A wave of shame ran through your body as your eyes met the floor, suddenly finding the tracks in the dirt very interesting. Johnny, however, didn't let you get distracted as he grabbed the hair that had fallen over your face and tugged it so your eyes met his. The warm stickiness on your lips made your eyes flutter closed, but a click of his tongue accompanied by a yank of your hair opened them in shock, your mouth following suit. The sharp pain on your scalp made a small gasp leave your lips as he met it halfway. You gag at the sensation of him brushing the back of your throat. The sound trailing off into a soft moan as he began to rut himself into your slack jaw.

"Such a dumb little thing already. Look at me," he demanded. "Does this look neighbourly to you? Is this the kinda thing you'd let a neighbour do to you? Because I know this is all that boy could think about when he saw you."

A harsh slap across your cheek had you shaking your head, eyes wide, pleading in apology. His pace quickened as tears started to prickle in your eyes and a dull ache spread through your jaw. The lack of oxygen made you delirious, causing a low whine to escape around him. The feeling of the vibration coupled with the sight of drool running down your chin caused him to throw his head back and pull harder at the hair underneath his covered fingers. He lets out a low curse before his breath hitches. The smell of musty sweat fills your nose as he buries your face in the coarse hair covering his pubic bone. Squirming does nothing as his cum finally shoots down your throat.

The taste is bitter, but you know better than to spit it out. His hold loosens under your sagging body as he catches his breath, running a hand through his hair. Once the twitching subsides, Johnny slowly pulls out of your mouth, leaving a trail of saliva that connects you both. A choked gasp left you as your lungs begged for oxygen. You croaked out a soft, apologetic Johnny.

"Pieces of meat like yourself don't speak," he tutted as he grabbed your cheeks with one hand, causing you to pout.

You try to focus on your breathing as Johnny buttons up his jeans and wanders to the other side of the pen. Hearing his return, you crane your neck to see what he has—a black bar with a leather buckle. Your mouth opens in question, but Johnny meets the forming words by stuffing the gag bit into your mouth and buckling it around the side of your head. You shake your head, trying to push it out with your tongue. Johnny kneels in front of you, brushing his nose against yours to mimic your struggles before letting out a dark chuckle.

Your body was unable to comply with the buzz of frustration in your chest, forcing you to sag in defeat, blood bubbling with rage as Johnny takes a step back to study your situation. He moves out of your eyesight, the footsteps growing quieter as they move behind you. It's quiet for a moment before his rough, calloused hands start trailing up and down your body, his heedful eye locked on each groove and bump until he reaches your heat. He pokes the dark spot that has formed on your underwear, causing you to twitch and cry out.

"Y'know, I could teach you a thing or two if you just listened. It's a dangerous world out there." He trailed off with a sharp inhale and a slap to your underwear-covered cheeks.

Ripping echoes through the pen as Johnny tears the underwear off your body, leaving you exposed to the elements. A new wave of defiance rolls through your body, kicking and twisting your legs, trying to preserve some dignity. An impatient sigh falls on your back as Johnny grabs some discarded rope in the corner and ties each flailing ankle to a metal loop screwed into the base of the wooden restraint. Now spread and open, he watches you thrash against the new restrictions to see if they'll give.

"You could've made this a lot easier on yourself, darling. Nothin' I ain't seen before," he huffs.

He's right. Johnny has had access to all parts of your body before, but not like this, not when you didn't have access to his. This was new. This was different. Your body started to relax in its hold, as you remember; this is just Johnny. Your Johnny.

Mockingly, a knife starts to run down your spine. "Now, it's time to teach you a lesson."

Despite the trepidation, you slowly nod your head and take a deep breath. Just keep breathing. He trails the knife down your back as if following an invisible guide. When he reaches your lower back, he pushes the knife deeper, leaving a thin, horizontal trail of blood. Johnny's lack of self-control was clear as he licked across the cut he had just made. It always tastes best when it's fresh. In quick succession, he makes more shallow cuts on your back, explaining cuts of meat as he goes: the loin is the most tender meat down here on the lower back; above it are the ribs (perfect for barbecuing); and then we have your cheaper chuck. A trail of prickly fire spreads from your lower back to your shoulders as blood oozes out of all your cuts. You start to become restless as he leans back and admires his work, his hands resting on your hips.

Whimpers escape the gag, causing a smirk to creep onto Johnny's face, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm only treatin' ya like the thing you are," he says, bringing his hand down to your ass to cease your fidgeting. "Besides, we've not gotten to my favourite part yet."

He crouches behind you, one knee deep in the dust. He slowly drags the knife to the underside of your cheek, turns the blade, and pushes a deep cut across, causing blood to trickle down your leg. You buck away from the sensation, gritting your teeth around the gag as you grow uncomfortable. Pain and pleasure start to merge when Johnny starts suckling on the flesh of your thigh.

"This is the shank," he mutters against your thigh. "Used to tenderize it for Mama's stew; said it makes the meat less tough and more succulent."

He held your flesh between his teeth, applying more pressure, until he could feel the blood beneath your skin rushing to the surface. Sweat, blood, and saliva covered your thighs as he took his time playing and fondling. Arousal starts forming in your lower stomach. Fog starts clouding your brain. A muffled moan echoed through the holding pen, telling him you were at his beck and call. His mouth made its way to your sticky cunt, mixing the blood on his tongue with your arousal.

"Leaking like a faucet..." He groans, mouth watering at the thought of your juices.

Enamoured by your scent, he found himself buried in you, his nose prodding at your entrance as both hands wrapped inside and around your thighs to pull you closer. Instinctually, you push yourself towards him in desperation, eager to be relieved. Unable to deny you, his tongue grazed against your clit, making its way up your puffy slit. Two broad fingers followed in its tracks. Johnny's mouth watered at the sight of your glistening folds; a tight squeeze on either side causing more of your excitement to seep onto his tongue.

A guttural moan bounced off the walls when his rough thumb began drawing circles on your clit, his dick twitching at the sound. His mouth replaced his fingers as he latched onto your swollen clit, rolling it against his tongue. You could do nothing but quiver and moan as he spread your cheeks, groaning at the sight. You clenched your fist as if you had hold of his greasy locks, your eyes rolling back as he hummed into your heat. Thighs tightened around his head, spurring him on. He relentlessly lapped at you, like a ravenous dog burying itself in his last meal. Sharp canines scraped against you, the animalistic nature of his actions bringing you closer to the edge. He's hungry for you. An endless spur of nonsense fills the room as your body tightens against his hold. He knows you're about to cum. He always knew what your body wanted. A burning white is all you see as fire spreads through your body. Kneading the flesh in his hands, he let you chase your high, suffocating him with your excitement before melting against his mouth.

A cool, hard sensation against your throbbing pussy pulls you back into reality. Johnny rubs the blood-stained knife up and down your puffy slit, collecting your juices. Twisting the knife in the air, he admires how it glistens in the beam of light leaking through the wall crack before wiping it clean on his bicep and putting it back in its sheath.

Dragging one hand across his chin, the other slides the unbuckled brown leather out of its belt loops. Coolness brushed along your thighs, doing very little to soothe the throbbing marks Johnny left in his wake. Without thought, your hips tilted towards him in submission, making Johnny's chest fill with pride; he almost forgot about the boy at the gas station. Almost. Before you could even register the whipping sound slicing through the air, you felt it—the sharp sting of his belt. The impact caused your body to lunge forward, your knees buckling as you lost control. Johnny had never used his belt like this before; you often traced the insignia on the buckle, wondering where he got such a thing and how long it'd been with him. It felt strangely intimate. Merciless hits leave your head foggy with arousal, each eliciting a gasp, whimper, or wail. A sharp sting spreads its way to your core as tears start to form in the corner of your eyes, slowly making a trail down your face. Despite the brutality of his strikes, your body grew more aroused with each passing welt.

Obstructed, wet sobs harmonise with the sharp cracks of the belt. Your thighs trembled when he suddenly stopped. He traced his finger across the indents he'd just made—the design of his belt buckle marked into your skin. A heavy breath tickled you as he licked into the shallow dents of your skin, savouring the feeling of each divot before pulling away. A soothing coolness was left behind as the wet started to dry. The sound of his zipper made your body buzz with anticipation; your toes clenched at the idea of what was coming. Anticipation turned into confusion as you felt rough hands brushing at the wetness on your face, opening them to see Johnny looking as put-together as he started. As he pulled a hanky out of his back pocket to clean the snot that had fallen from your nose during the anguish, he saw the confusion swirling in your eyes.

A snicker passed his lips before he got up, his eyes never leaving your face. "You ain't leaving just yet, sweetheart." His silhouette grew smaller as he made his way to the doors you both entered. He quickly glanced over his shoulder at your tangled form, "Can't promise I'll be quick."

The air grew heavier in his absence as you sobered to your reality. Without Johnny's distractions, you felt everything. Fatigue took over your body—every muscle in your body ached, your fingers were growing numb. Frustration started to pilot your body as you flailed against your shackles, hoping the ropes would slacken. Noticing a shining latch from the corner of your eye, your fingers searched around the grainy restraint for freedom, but nothing was within reach. You attempt to shout for attention, but the gag still held between your teeth muffles any noise. Maybe Johnny would return quicker if he thought you were in trouble. Maybe he was too far away and someone else would hear you? Did you really want anyone to find you in such a vulnerable position? Tears prickled in your eyes at the thought. A huff leaves your lips as your body sags in defeat. He was right; you did feel like a piece of meat.

Humidity hangs in the air. Hairs are stuck to your damp forehead, itching to be moved. A string of drool connects your bound mouth to the newly formed puddle on the floor. You try to focus on the smell of the stale hay as it fights with the metallic blood in the air—your blood. The grasshoppers and crickets in the field outside are the soundtrack to your humiliation—an incessant buzz to match the numb feeling of blood pooling in your legs. The occasional sniffle breaks the monotony. At some point, your eye hung closed, dragging you into a state of semi-consciousness. Every second is like a minute. Every minute feels like an hour. The growl of an engine alerts you. The sweet call for Johnny that follows confuses you.

"Johnny," The calls get louder as the person approaches: "The old man's threatening to take his stick upside your head if you don't bring back them gas cans."

You chalk the voice up to your state of delirium. There's no one actually here. The figure making its way into the holding pen isn't actually there. You close your eyes as you shake your head in denial. Maybe she won't see you in the corner and move on.

"Oh, you poor little thing," Sissy interrupted your deluded thoughts. "How'd you get yourself all done in like that?"

You lowered your head in embarrassment as she skipped her way across the pen. What are the chances?

"Aw, ain't you a sight?" She cooed as she lifted your head.

Soft fingers brushed the damp hairs away from your eyes, combing out the knots that fought against her fingers. Your swollen eyes were fighting fresh tears at Sissy's caressing touch. Humilitating.

A faux pout formed at the sight: "Did that mean boy leave you tied up like a Christmas ham?"

A hand reached for your chin, forcing you to nod. Unable to muster the strength to defy, you accepted your fate—nothing but a doll in Sissy's playhouse.

"From the moment I saw you, I knew you were special, y'know."

A giggle escaped her lips as she let go of your head and began circling your motionless body, a soft hum letting you follow her position. The sensation of her finger trailing down your spine was so light it felt illusory; her finger snagging slightly against the scabbing cuts.

"Ain't that a pretty view?" Sissy admires the watercolour of purple painted on your thighs. "Just like a blackberry pie."

You felt dizzy at the softness, underwhelmed, and overwhelmed at the same time. The skin under her fingers twitched as it begged for the pressure it had become accustomed to. A fearful whine crawls up your throat as you feel her finger push against your puckered hole, swallowing it as she continues her path. The thrum of your heart pounds louder in your head, the sound suppressing the jovial tunes Sissy crooned. With no patience, two fingers sink into your neglected cunt, a scissoring motion drenching her slim fingers with your juices. Before you could relish in the feeling, it was gone. Her glistening fingers were brought to her mouth.

She hummed as she suckled on them, delighting in the flavour, "Sweeter than one too."

Her words made you dizzy with desire—shame dethroned by pleasure. Your body craved her touch. Sharp fangs peered over her lips as she felt your body gravitate towards her; she wanted to taste more of you. Nimble fingers began picking at the scabs on your back, relighting the fire as blood trickled down your ribs. She lapped at the blood, her flattened tongue tracing your wounds with vigor.

"Look at all this pretty blood," she coos. "Let's see where it leads me."

Her lips followed a trail of red as it dripped down your ribs and across the side of your breast. She crawled under your standing form so she could access the prize at the end of the path, goosebumps forming after every nibble. A soft kiss on your nipple makes your breath hitch. The kisses become fervorous as her lips widen, sucking the flesh into her mouth. Your back arches in a silent plea as she drags her thumb against your free nipple, pebbling against her touch. Fangs scrape against the sore bud as she begins to roll the other between her nimble fingers. A wave of electricity shoots to your core as she bites down.

As she releases you from her bite, she blows on your nipple, her teeth biting her lip in a smile as it hardened under the coolness. Her bony hands cupped both of your breasts as she squeezed and fondled, mesmerized by the way they conform to the shape of her hands, flesh bulging between her fingers. They fell to the ground upon their release, jiggling at the force. Sissy giggled in glee at the sight, bringing her hands to lightly tap at your hanging breasts. The impact causes them to sway as she stares at them, captivated by the movement. Instinctually, you recoil against the feeling, whimpering like a struck dog.

Sissy furrows her brow at the rejection, her voice lowering in sternness. "Stop fightin' it."

She continued her assault, the giggles growing louder as her spanks grew harder. A tingling numbness replaced the burning sharpness as the blood swelled under her hands. Growing bored with your swaying tits, she shoved her face between them, collecting a stray bead of sweat with her tongue, pushing your flesh on either side of her cheeks as she breathed in your scent. Small nips were left in her wake as she trailed her lips back to your nipple. You sigh shakily in relief as her jaw locks around your flesh, the tip of her tongue prodding at your erect nipple, alternating with a flat, pulsating brush of the wet muscle. Her slender fingers supporting your breast massaged the tissue deviously as she pulled you to the roof of her mouth and began sucking vigorously, the flesh rolling with the steady pressure. Unbearable waves of sensation jolted through your body as she relentlessly suckled, coaxing milk to fall from your peak. An enthusiastic groan vibrated against your breast when she could taste you on her tongue, sweet drops trickling on her taste buds like nectar from a wildflower. Confused moans bounced off the wooden walls as your body senselessly rutted towards her. She held you in her mouth as if she were biting into a peach before letting her jaw slacken, relishing in the taste of you. Sweet words fell from her lips as your chest erratically thumped before her but your ears werefull of cotton, oblivious to the praise.

She crawled her way from beneath you, allowing her eyes to devour your shaking, goosebump-riddled form. Her hand began to condescendingly stroke at your heavy head, cooing in faux consolation, "There, there, it's alright. It feels good, don't it, sugar?"

Expecting a reply, the hand in your damp hair tightened. Your motionless body made her yank hard, fearful eyes meeting hers, as she circled to bend in front of you. "Ain't your mama teach you any manners?"

Before you could gurgle your apologies, a bruising slap replaced the hot words that had fallen on your cheek. Your head jolted to the right, dizzying at the feeling. Blinking away the pain, your eyes focus on the blurry silhouette in the door of the holding pen. The feral growl rolling from his chest confirmed his identity. Smirking at the sound, the woman turned around. Mischief twinkled in her eyes as she noticed the darkness in his.

"Ain't your mama tell you not to touch things that don't belong to ya?" He bellowed, his accent growing thicker.

Snickers fell from Sissy's lips as she pressed your cheek against hers. "I don't see your name written on her anywhere," she retorts mockingly, with a small pout on her lips.

Johnny's composure drops for a moment, denting the can in his hand, his growl growing deeper, squaring up for a fight. He knew she was taunting him. It's what she did. But seeing her hands on you blinded him with a primal fury. Your eyes never leave his puffed chest, heart rattling against your own. Sissy concedes with a kiss to your forehead. She skips her way to Johnny, hushed hisses shared between them before she is gone.

Holding Johnny's gaze was a feat; your throat tightening as he sauntered his way over. There's nothing to feel guilty about; it wasn't your fault. But your body didn't listen to the excuses in your brain. A dark shadow cast over your face as Johnny loomed over you, his binding gaze making you a compliant mess.

"She has a point, y'know... ain't nothing here to tell the world who you belong to." He circles your body like a vulture waiting to claim its prize.

His scent engulfs your mind, the fantasies that kept you company in his absence come to the forefront. A sudden click, followed by a low hiss of air, sounded behind you. No, not air, fire. You hadn't noticed the blowtorch in his grasp when he returned. You tried to swallow the bile rising in your throat, unaware of Johnny holding the torch to a branding iron. He watched as the heat revealed a glowing 'J'. Babbling pleas turned to white noise as you felt the residual heat on the iron close to your trembling body. With a satisfied hum, he squeezed the flesh of your ass before pressing the iron against it. Every muscle in your body tensed as wildfire spread through your body, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, attempting to put it out. A scream fought against gritted teeth, vision going white on the verge of blacking out, suffocated by the smell of burning flesh. Crescent moons were carved into your palm as you tried to grab onto nothing. The pain didn't subside as he pulled away, the clang of the disposal bucket never reaching your ears.

"Most prized heifer in Texas." He chuckles, poking a finger at your entrance. "Well, almost. A heifer ain't nothing when she's not bred."

Pain began to melt into pleasure. The desire in your body was louder than any word he uttered. You wanted him to claim you. The instinctual ache in your body wanted to obey his every command. He could feel it. She could feel it too—his thick length throbbing against your own throbbing heat. You couldn't help but rut against him, eager to feel him inside you. A choked cry escaped your throat as teased your entrance. He met your cry with a groan as he slowly pushed himself into you, savouring the warm feeling. Pushing backwards, your back arched in a silent plea, only to be met with his veined hands gripping tightly on your hips, immobilising the movement. You whine at the lack of friction. He towers over your body, pulling your head back so your eyes meet.

"Got anything to say to me?" His question was marked with a single thrust.

You remained silent, knowing anything you said would be incomprehensible. With a sigh, he brings his other hand to unbuckle the drool-drenched gag, letting it fall to the floor. Eyes wide and watery, you let out a raspy apology, your jaw convulsing at the sudden relaxation. He begins to rut into you carelessly.

"Anything else, sugar?" Each syllable was punctuated with a thrust.

To his dismay, your mind goes blank at the pleasure. Whorish moans are now free to dance around the room as your cunt fluttered around him. His hands roam over your back with possessive desire before groping the round flesh in front of him. Rough fingertips digging into the fresh wound, send a new blaze of fire through you.

"I'm yours, Johnny. Only yours." Your sob trailed into a moan as his pace quickened at the confession.

His breath tickles your ear. "Every inch of flesh on your body belongs to me." Dominance seeps through his every word. "Every moan. Every sound. Every thought. You are mine alone."

You're at his complete mercy. The only word that leaves your mouth is his name. You'd do anything for him as his hands do a second lap of your body, trailing down to your sore nipples, twisting and pulling on them with no compassion. Your eyes fluttered closed as the coil in your core tightened.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart," Johnny mumbled, holding your hair in one hand as the other played with your swollen clit. He could play your body like a fiddle, with brutal thrusts and torturous circles in a melodic rhythm. Slamming harder, he could feel you clench against him. He could feel every warm ridge inside you—sharp teeth meeting your shoulder at the feeling. With a primal cry, your coil snapped. Knees buckle beneath you as your slick drips down his cock, marking him with your scent.

He rode out the wave, circling harder and faster on your swollen bud. The sensation was overwhelming, causing you to pull away with a pathetic whine. Your nerves were raw. The resistance made his length twitch inside you, hands landing on your hips, pulling you flush against him, knuckles turning pale. His breathing got heavier as his thrusts got deeper, his tip bruising your cervix, making his grunts feral. He moved one of his hands to your stomach, pushing against the outline of himself, basking in the feeling of his dick abusing your hole. His pace grew needier. His desire became carnal. His sounds became animalistic. The slap of his balls against your clit was agonising, making your mouth fall open with silent moans. He leant back to watch the point where your bodies connected, groaning at the sloppy sound gurgling around him. Over and over, his veiny dick disappeared into you, covered in a sweet cream on its return. His head falls back, the vein in his neck throbbing as he hisses. The feeling of his release made you see stars, circling your hips mindlessly as he grew limp inside you.

He lazily pulled out of you, mesmerised by the thick, white stream oozing from your folds. Your body twitched under his possessive gaze. Overwhelmed, you closed your eyes for a moment of relief. Not even the sound of duct tape ripping could wake you from your blissful daze. Johnny fingers the escaping cum, pushing it inside you. A tacky strip gets slapped over your abused cunt, trapping his seed. With a final tap, he beams at his prize.

"Would win all the county prizes, you would."

#johnny slaughter x reader #sissy slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game

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total-dxmure · 2 years ago

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✦ FLOWERS AND RIVALRY ➞ 【ELLIE WILLIAMS】

pairing: domestic!ellie williams x reader

summary: just some good ole’ neighborly rivalry.

warnings: ellie is just being adorable, you’re the best girlfriend in the world, this kinda shit is just a daily occurrence with her

a/n: just a lil somethin’ to keep you babies satiated while i'm working on chapter four of “marley and me”! enjoy :)

You watched as Ellie plucked a cigarette from her back pocket, her hands covered in dirt all the way up to her elbows. Buying a house was a lot of work- you knew that going in- but what you hadn’t expected was for your girlfriend to get so competitive about the upkeep.

“The neighbors across the street put in new flower boxes. . . did you see them? Anyway, I ran to Home Depot and picked up a few things.” Her definition of “few” and yours must be completely different, because the second that she opened up the bed of her truck you nearly laughed right in her face. Planks, bags full of supplies, and more flowers than you could even count were all shoved into the tight space. A few strands of her newly chopped hair were sticking to her brow with sweat. It was almost as though she could sense that you were about to say something, because she flashed you that wide smile of hers. Her freckles on full display in the early evening sun, green eyes blazing as she stared at you. You shut your mouth right up, only realizing how pussy whipped you were the second that you began jogging back into the house, already grabbing her an ice cold beer from the fridge.

So there you sat, legs stretched in front of you as you lounged in the rocking chair on the front porch. You would offer to help, but you were prone to clumsiness. While Ellie was good with fixing things, you were very good at breaking them.

She lit the cigarette, closing her lips around the filter and going straight back to work. Her arms and upper back glistened with sweat, cheeks flushed from the sun. You watched as she blew out a plume of smoke from her nose, utterly enchanted by her. She probably smelled of sweat, dirt, and sunscreen. . . but she was perfect.

The two of you were friends for years before making things official. The both of you had pined after one another for what felt like ages before she finally made a move. Maybe that was why the both of you were still so smitten after four years. You cracked a small smile before standing up, moving over to the top step of the porch so that you could grab the beer bottle, weighing it in your hands.

“I’ll go get you a fresh one.” And without her even having to say anything you breezed back into the house, eager to at least offer some sort of assistance.

You opened the fridge, pausing as you heard her voice sound from outside.

“-thought the front yard needed something.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the beer and twisting the cap off before sauntering back in the direction of the front porch. The wooden floors of your home creaked under your bare feet as you made your way towards the front door. The neighbor was standing in his yard, hands on his hips as he spoke. Ellie had stood up and moved away from her project, motioning towards what she was planning on making a large flower garden.

“The ole’ lady also wanted to plant some vegetables this year, so I’ll be working in the backyard tomorrow. You and your husband should come over once it’s all finished. You guys hosted dinner last time. It’s our turn.” Ellie told him matter of factly.

You schooled your face into neutrality, fighting off the urge to scoff at her statement. You had mentioned wanting to grow beans and peppers in passing almost a month ago. The neighbor- Steven- nodded his head, squinting his eyes against the blaring sun.

“Yeah, Yeah. Cole and I would love to come over. I remember you telling me about changing the tiles in your guest bath, and we wanted to come see.” He said, already moving back towards his front door.

Ellie was beaming with pride, the cigarette she had been smoking tucked between two dirty fingers. “Sounds like a plan.”

It was only once Steven was back in his home that Ellie turned to face you, eyes wide as she discreetly pointed in the direction of his house.

“Did you see that? He was practically boiling with jealousy. He told me last month that he was redoing the kitchen, and that smug look on his face-”

“I can’t believe you’re getting in a pissing competition with the sweet gay dads across the street.” You whispered, shaking your head in disapproval before handing her the beer.

“It wasn’t me! They started it!” She whisper-yelled, trailing after you like a wounded puppy.

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itsthestutterforme · 1 year ago

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Distractions (A Johnny Storm Drabble)

Summary: You are trying to work on your essay, but Johnny is making too much noise.

Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, reader is afrolatina, allusions to sex, Johnny being a soft goofball

Prompt credit @prompts-in-a-barrel : “Quiet you’re distracting me.” “Distracting you from what?” “From ignoring you.”

—

Your let out a groan when you glanced at the clock in the corner of your lap top. It read 10:52 p.m. You had an hour to do a ten page essay not including the abstract and references.

And you were only on page two.

To say you had writers block was an understatement. It took you damn near two hours to decide on what your thesis was.

And that’s all you managed to do. You’ve been zoning in and out since you sat down at the dining room table.

Johnny loud sigh reverberated from the living room to where you were seated.

Pressing your fingers to your temple, you took a deep breath before stating, “Quiet you’re distracting me.” “Distracting you from what?”

“From ignoring you,” you bit your lip when you heard the TV turn on off, which normally means on of two things.

His footsteps pad through the hallway as he made his way to you. You leg bounced in anticipation when the footsteps grew louder.

His broad shoulders filled in the door frame in the dining room as he crossed his arms.

He leans against the door frame, an amused smile tugs on his lips.

“So that’s what you’re doing. Had I known that I would have came over here sooner.” He takes a step towards you and you held your hand up.

“Don’t even think about it. I still need to get my work done.”

“But I miss you. I haven’t had affection from you all day.” “I gave you a kiss this morning. And I give you affection every day.”

“That was this morning, and I’m a high maintenance man. I need endless kisses.” you chuckle when he pouts and slouches his shoulders.

Such a baby.

“How much do you have left?” “I have to do a ten page essay in.. less than an hour.” You huffed, leaning back in your seat.

“Well that’s not going to happen,” Johnny strolls over to you, shutting your computer.

“Hey!” You protest when he takes the computer and sets it all the way to the other side of the table.

“Johnny,” you warn. Completely ignoring you, he pulls you out of your seat and sets you on the table where your computer just was.

“Let’s face it, sweetheart. You’re not going to get a ten page paper done in less than an hour. You’ll only stress yourself out and we both know how that ends up.”

“No, I don’t know, Johnny. Please enlighten me,” you retort. “Cursing at your laptop in Spanish,” he answers smoothly, placing a hand on either side of you and sliding between your legs.

“Not that it isn’t hot, because it is. I just don’t want you to be stressed, baby.” He adds, pecking your lips gently.

“I’m a college student. Stress is engraved in me at this point.” Your eyes searched his deep blue ones, noticing the faintest speck of light blue around his irises.

Johnny was a gorgeous man. There was no doubt in your mind why women would throw themselves at him.

A part of you always questioned why he chose you to settle down with.

But that doubt faltered when he said, “You don’t have to go through with college if it’s too much for you. I said that I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

“Wh- I thought you were joking.” “Baby, I was dead serious.”

“And how is that supposed to work exactly? I stay home and upkeep the house? Being a trophy wife isn’t in my nature, Johnny.”

“And I didn’t think settling down was in mine. Until I met you and all of your sexy, 5’4” mean girl glory.”

He lifted your left hand and placed a kiss on skin above your ring. You smiled at the memory of Johnny dropping down on one knee and proposing to you.

He had timed everything to the T. He took you to get a mani pedi early in the morning before taking you shopping for a dress so you could attending a premier with him later that day.

Your time at the premier was cut short because he ‘forgot’ his keys to the apartment when he went for a run earlier than morning.

The photographer he hired was already there waiting for you two by the bridge. You were looking for the keys around of the bushes around the bridge and couldn’t find the keys Johnny was talking about.

You were fussing about just making a copy of your key if the two of you couldn’t find it. You damn near fainted when you turned around and saw Johnny on one knee, beaming up at you with a gorgeous blue princess cut ring sparkling from the velvety box.

The photograph took close to a hundred pictures that did, nearly all of them were on the front paper news the next day.

“I’m not a mean girl,” “Sure, if you say so.” He dismisses. “Just promise me you’ll at least consider it,”

“I will. After I finish this paper,” you tried to reach for your laptop. His gaze fell to your small frame swimming one of his t-shirts.

All you were wearing was his tshirt. He groans at the thought, pulling you further between his legs.

“Johnny, I need to at least-“ he lifts your legs over his shoulders, causing you to fall flat on your back.

He made it a house rule for you never to wear panties in the house. Ever. As soon as you step foot in the house, he is in front of you with his hand outstretched.

He ghosts a lick over your cunt and you shudder at the sight of his face buried between your legs.

His bottom lip grazed your clit and the skin throbbed in anticipation. Your hands cup the back of his head, your hips rolling in search for any sort of friction.

He pulls away from your cunt, flipping his shirt over your stomach and presses a wet kiss above your belly button.

“You’re confusing me, sweetheart. I thought you wanted to finish your school work?” He taunts, a proud smirk on his face.

A smirk that widens the longer you stayed silent. “So what’s it gonna be, baby? Me or the work?”

#afrolatina!reader #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm #chris evans

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0-amateur-writer-0 · 1 year ago

Text

Lines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford pines.

Tags: Angst, Hurt no comfort, Character study.

Wordcount: 1,810

Summary:

“You really don’t understand why I want this place to be shut down, do you?”

Stan sniffs. “I think I got some ideas.”

Ford narrows his eyes. “Do you?”

He’s home. He’s actually home. Back in his Earth—in Gravity Falls, Oregon.

Hard to believe that a few days ago, he was at the precipice of life and death. About to end things once, and for all with Bill. That’s how it was supposed to be. One way or another, everything was supposed end that day. But now he’s honest to God walking through his house. Opening cupboards, and drawers. Studying every nook, and cranny. Observing how much has changed, and how much has stayed the same.

The house definitely had seen better days. Everything was aged, and weathered. You could even spot some awkward patch jobs here, and there. The ones you do on your own to save money, instead of by someone who actually knew what they were doing.

Indeed, Stan must’ve been a stingy on the upkeep. He could hear a lot of new creaks, and sounds now. But…the house is somewhat neat, and tidy at least.

He supposes he should be thankful if for that. That his home is still here after all this time. Still standing. Still livable. When he already made peace long ago, that his house would be left to rot—reduced to a pile of would-be firewood.

Ford rounded a corner, and stops in his tracks. Any feelings of gratitude he had had quickly went down the drain.

Now this is a change he could really do without.

The house doubles as a hokey tourist trap now. One that’s entire gimmick was based on showcasing a variety of very made-up anomalies.

Being in this room is already starting to royally piss him off. Though for some reason that escapes him, he decided to stay and look around. Making his way the first exhibit that caught his eye.

Ford glares at the taxidermized monstrosity before him. It was obviously meant to resemble sasquatch, or even bigfoot. Brown fur, big feet, and ape-like features, though a striking difference could be seen on how it’s…wearing an underwear.

(Why even? What evolutionary need could it possibly fulfill by wearing one?)

“Sascrotch,” He sneers. “I can’t believe people actually—"

“Yeah, ya don’t like the Shack. We get it. Keep steppin’, and move on already.” A gruff voice piped up from his left.

Ford turns his head to the source of said voice, to find Stan leaning against the counter—counting the money he made off from the last group of tourists.

(Has he always been there?)

“You really don’t understand why I want this place to be shut down, do you?”

Stan sniffs. “I think I got some ideas.”

Ford narrows his eyes. “Do you?” He challenges.

Stan muttered something under his breath, but otherwise did nothing but continue to count the money in his hands. The sound of paper bills being shuffled seemed to fill the empty gift shop. It grated on his nerves. Then again, everything that Stan does seem to grate on his nerves these days.

Ford made his way to the next set of exhibits. The Six Pack O’ Lope. The Cornicorn. He swears some of them looked more like one of Mabel’s arts and crafts projects.

“I have spent most of my life studying the weird. Trying to make sense of the nonsense. Trying to prove their existence to the scientific community.”

“I had to take on twelve PhDs to get people to take me seriously. Twelve. And that wasn’t even accounting the number of favors, and good standing I had to build up just so I could get my grant approved by the committee.”

Of course, I could’ve avoided all that if I had gone to West Coast Tech instead. He almost wanted to say, but quickly bit his tongue.

“Well, that’s kinda’ dumb.” Stan comments.

(If his ears weren’t mistaken, Ford could’ve sworn there was a note of genuine sympathy in Stan’s voice.)

Ford just shook his head. “The committee didn’t see my want to research anomalies as top priority. Especially when compared to things like researching the cure for cancer, or alternative energy, or artificial intelligence and whatnot.”

“But one way, or another. I managed to show them my worth. I gave them reason, after reason as to how my research could be beneficial. And eventually, they decided to give me a chance.”

Ford wrinkled his nose when he passes by some shelves filled with tacky souvenirs. One lined with snow globes, another with Mr. Mystery bobbleheads, and another filled with…ugh, those horrific Burpin’ Stanford Pines figurines. Though he stops when he comes across a nearly empty shelf lined with empty glass jars. A sign nearby tells him that these are ‘invisible fairy companions! Only $35!’.

His attention wasn’t on the obvious scam in front of him. Instead, Ford watches his face being reflected on the glass jars.

“I thought,” he says. “If I did all of that, then…maybe I could finally change the way people view them.”

“I wasn’t hoping to change everyone’s minds, but if I could get a few people to stop looking at them like something to be afraid of. Like something to be pointed, and gawked at…” He pauses, and then turns to look at Stan. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Stan just stares at him with a blank expression on his face.

(Dear Tesla, does he really have to spell this out?)

Ford took a deep calming breath, before saying: “What you’re doing here with the Mystery Shack. Not only is it a mockery of my life’s work, it’s a mockery of me.”

Stan narrows his eyes. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Ford could feel the threads of his self-control being cut. “Do you really not realize what you’re doing here!? You’re bringing all sorts of people in here, and teaching them it’s okay to point, and laugh at things they don’t understand. You’re teaching them to point, and laugh at things like me!”

Ford clicked his tongue. Whether Stan’s earlier confusion was genuine, or an act mattered little to him at the moment. The damage was done. To his house. To his reputation. To his life’s work.

--You’re a six-fingered freak!

And they would be right. That’s all he is. All he will ever be.

He’d lost the chance to ever prove them wrong.

“Be honest,” Ford demanded. “All those times you told me that I wasn’t a freak was a lie, wasn’t it?” He gestures towards the various exhibits in the Shack. “This is how you actually feel about me.”

“Do you also have stuffed six-fingered hand lying around? I’m surprised I haven’t seen it yet. An exhibit like that will surely—"

“You think I’d do that?” Stan asks.

Ford pauses, and then turns to Stan. And once his eyes landed on his brother, the red mist that clouded his vision seemed to dissipate at that moment.

Stan was staring at him, and though his expression was blank—there was a gamut of emotions swirling in the depths of his brother’s eyes. Raw and honest emotions that Ford didn’t want to look too closely into.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” Stan asks again. His voice quiet.

Ford opens his mouth, but he quickly finds that no words could come out. Something in Stan’s eyes. Something in the way his brother spoke, seemed to sap all the remaining fight and anger in him.

“I used to beat up every single punk who bad-mouthed you when we were kids. And ya really think that I’m gonna’ turn around, and start doin’ all that crap they did to you?” A pause. “You really think that I’m no better than guys like Crampelter?”

Ford’s looks down—suddenly finding it hard to look Stan in the eyes. “That isn’t what I…”

He tries to find something to defend himself with, but nothing kept coming up. After all, that was essentially what he had just implied wasn’t it?

The silence hung between them until Stan took several steps forward, only stopping when he’s at an arms-length in front of Ford.

“…Y’know,” Stan says. “I got a lotta reasons for starting the Mystery Shack. And that thing you just said… You think that folks come through here to point and laugh at all these arts and crafts rejects. But the only thing being pointed and laughed at in here…is me.”

“Cause you wanna’ know something?” He jabbed a finger onto Ford’s chest. “Just because you got no problems callin’ me worthless, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna’ stoop to your level and start callin’ you a…”

It took everything in him to not look away—to return Stan’s glare head on. On the outside, one might mistake him for being the picture of indifference. The only thing anyone could see was a mask of cold, hard disapproval plastered on his face

But on the inside, in the deepest parts of him where no one was privy to—part of him dreaded of what’s to come. The part of him that used to go on adventures with Stan on the beach. The part of him that used to spend whatever free time available, to work on an old derelict sailboat. The part of him that used stay up to the late hours of the night talking, and planning about the places they’d sail away to one day.

That part of him was terrified of his twin brother calling him that word.

But he knew it was coming. It’s only a matter of time. He braces himself and…

…nothing happened.

Stan just looks down, his hand falling limply back to his side. And Ford found himself letting out a breath he didn’t even knew he was holding.

Both men stood at the middle of the empty gift shop. Stan kept looking down at the floor, and Ford couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from his brother—at how tired, and defeated he looked. His right-hand twitches, and then starts to lift and inch itself closer towards Stan.

He didn’t really know what he was trying to do. He just…has a sudden urge to reach out. But before he could make any contact, Stan took a step back from him.

“Believe it or not, I actually got lines I ain’t never gonna’ cross.” Was all Stan said to him, before he made his way outside.

The front door slammed shut.

Ford watches the door for a moment. Before his gaze, inexplicably, wanders back to the shelf lined with those Burpin’ Stanford Pines toys. It was an insult. It was his name being printed on those boxes, but looking at those figurines again—at how it was wearing a bright red fez, and a black tuxedo…the similarities that he somehow hadn’t seen before became so clear.

It was Stan.

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the hell am I doing?”

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #angst #stangst #fanfic #a character study I wanted to do for a while

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 7 months ago

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Looking at several previous one, I can already imagine that this one is not going to turn out well, but since it is my favorite I'm going to ask anyway.

How about Skarmory?

Skarmories are fascinating pokémon, but they might not make the greatest house pet unless you are an expert in the species. As I’m sure you understand, this makes it pretty difficult for me to give them a blanket endorsement, hence the C ranking. It’s a complicated one, so let’s get right into it.

For one thing, skarmories are pretty large. At over five feet tall, their space needs are gonna be higher than a lot of owners can handle. This is doubly true considering their aerial lifestyle: skarmories are skilled flyers and would likely become restless if prevented from flying freely. I’d go out on a limb and guess that very, very view readers of this blog have access to an enclosed space large enough to suit a skarmory’s need to take to the air. These pokémon can fly at dumbfounding speeds, topping off somewhere around 190 miles per hour (Ruby). Nothing short of a sports stadium, if that, would suffice. Of course, a trained skarmory could be allowed to explore freely and return home on command, but that would require a level of training that’s gonna really decrease their ease of care. You would also need to keep in mind that flying freely outdoors may present a risk to your skarmory or wild pokémon, depending on where you live. In the Galar Region, for example, skarmories are known to “fight viciously over territory” with corviknights (Sword). On a brighter note, these pokémon aren’t too heavy considering their size thanks to their light, hollow bones, a necessity to their flying capabilities (Gold).

Now, for the friendliness factor: there’s decent indication that skarmories may get along well with humans. Both in the past and today, humans use shed skarmory feathers as blades due to their natural strength and exceptional sharpness (Crystal, Emerald, Sun, Ultra Sun). Around the world, this pokémon is a popular heraldic symbol due to their role as a passive source for human weapons (Shield). While the pokédex makes no note of skarmories offering their feathers willingly to humans at any point, it also doesn’t indicate that collecting these feathers is particularly dangerous for humans, indicating to me at the very least a passive, nonviolent relationship between the species. As an added benefit, if you own a skarmory, you’ll have access to valuable blades year-round, which could be sold to support yourself and your pet.

Skarmories, unfortunately, have additionally habitat needs that increase the difficulty of their care. Wild skarmories, like most bird-like pokémon, make their homes in nests. Skarmory nests are built using bramble bushes, whose sharp thorns help skarmory chicks develop their defensive armor (Silver). Such a nest would be difficult to upkeep, to say the least. Not only would you need to provide your skarmory with sufficiently prickly branches to satisfy their nesting needs, you would need to make sure they have a perfectly dry place to build it (i.e. not anywhere where they may get rained on), since their metal feathers are known to rust very easily (Moon). All this to say: a standard pet bed would not cut it for a skarmory. If you’re planning on adopting one, you’d better look into some good bramble bushes.

I’m sure anyone who reads this could see it a mile away but my goodness are skarmories dangerous! Their razor-sharp feathers are sharper than most artificial blades (Sword), and they make skilled use of them in combat. Moves like Steel Wing, Slash, and even Wing Attack and Fury Attack could easily prove lethal to a human. Considering their speed and agility, a skarmory attack is not something you want to risk. Now, the pokédex doesn’t make any mention of the species being particularly aggressive, but we must always recognize that the risk of an accident are always present. A skarmory is essentially a giant bird of prey made of knives. Like, c’mon.

Unfortunately, this pokémon is not one I can comfortably recommend as a house pet. Skilled flying-type keepers may be able to care for them, but the average pet owner would simply be putting themselves and other people and pokémon in their neighborhood at risk by adopting one.

#pokémon #pokemon #skarmory #pkmn irl #pr-c

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strip4kaneshiro · 7 months ago

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Cole Cassidy x Texan! reader domesticity headcanons

hiii it’s Kay again LOL. My first comeback piece and it’s Overwatch head canons LMAO. Felt some type of way about writing headcanons about real people so we’re moving on to fictional characters as the lord intended. As of rn, I’m fixated on Cassidy, Reaper, and Lifeweaver as my faves. So expect me to write about them TRUST

You and him defo live on a small ranch back in his home state of Texas together

this takes place in a universe where Overwatch is a lil more flexible with him than before, so don’t worry too much about the logistics ok???

Not close too his hometown though ( he’s still wanted there, rip), so you end up choosing a ranch set of land south enough to still be able to reach the coast if wanted. Cole was adamant about being able to take beach road trips

Let’s you do majority of the interior decorating, while he focuses on upkeeping the outdoors of your home

In the process of choosing yalls house and moving in, contrary to popular belief, Cassidy was the super picky one

I swear you had to change real estate agents twice because he wouldn’t stop nitpicking LMAO, but all for good reason, He just wants the best for his darling <3

He will NEVER wake you up earlier than 9 am for any reason unless it’s a doctors appointment or a road trip. Babes just wants to watch you sleep

“Cole! It’s 10:30! You weren’t gonna wake me up?!” You chastise, jumping out of bed and pulling stray hairs out your face

“Now why would I disturb your peace?” and he flashes that damn cowboy charming smile smh i hate him so bad

If your into skincare stuff, he simply watches you in amazement as you go through a multi step routine

Begins asking you to help him, not because he cares much about his skin, but he loves to see you yap about what you love

(Please free this man from the 14 in 1 in the shower)

Bro CANNOT keep his hands off of you for any reason and it makes everyone both envious and uncomfortable

If you’re in the kitchen, hands wrapped around your waist from the side. Doing laundry? He’s leaning on your shoulder and simply watching.

Depending on if Overwatch needs him, he will force them to give him a 14 hour notice so he can tell you. Cole never wants you to wake up confused and alone like how he did Ashe and Deadlock gang

Speaking of, expect to see the, very often in your house. They all just decided y’all’s house was the hangout spot like a bunch of high schoolers

He doesn’t appreciate how Ashe and you team up to tease him

Ended up getting two dogs and a cat with him.

The cat loves you but cannot stand being near Cole unless it’s bribed (male cat)

“Oh, did your wife give you those scratches Cass?” (Baptiste)

Cole begrudgingly acknowledges the scratches on his shoulders and back during a training session.

He forces you to trim his claws and get him a scratching post when he gets back home

If you drink coffee/tea/matcha, he leaves enough hot water in the coffee pot so you can make whatever you choose. Or if he knows, he just does it himself and leaves it for you warm cold (ik some of you r iced coffee fiends)

Cole takes you on shopping trips every couple of months because he loves to spoil you, he even carries all the bags without one single complaint! (He gets to flex his ranch muscles)

Don’t let it be a nice day over 70 degrees, this man will take any chance he gets to have as little clothing on as possible around you (Why he does this we don’t know)

Catch him in a tank top or no shirt at all doing yard work while you lay in a chaise , tanning or quietly reading.

He wouldn’t have it any other way though, he loves working hard for the ones he loves.

So as the day comes to the end, and you come outside with some iced tea for him, he wipes as much sweat as he can off of himself before leaning over and kidding the top of your head.

“I love you, darlin’.” He’ll mutter, before wrapping his toned arms around you and embracing you

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #headcanons #overwatch headcanons #nijisanji en #cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader

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lycancursed · 5 days ago

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Little update on my activity

But it does make me spacey and hard to focus. I'm still caring for my child and house upkeep.. Hence very little activity if it ooc. I'm lower on spoons than usual, please don't take offense or feel bad if I have not messaged back or missed threads.

For the time being activity will be spotty af. I may pop on and do multiple things or go ghost for a bit. This is for ic and ooc.

my discomfort from surgery still blows. It wouldn't be so bad, but given the pain is worse when I sit i can't do much to even relax or distract myself. That on top of my already chronic pain has made this awful. The fact here they actually prescribed me strong ass pain medicine and a refill says a lot when most of the time places here in the US, ( especially the south for some reason) tell you to pop some Tylenol. (US healthcare system blows) So I am loving my doctor for being kind there. I didn't even get meds this strong after wisdom tooth surgery. LOL

All I want to do is write and have a distraction. From discomfort or boredom but the window is always short and changing.

#.♡ ˚ ☾ | ooc #rant #no negativity #just explaining wnd venting

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 years ago

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s/o who moved to the neighbourhood after a car crash ; wally

requested by ; anonymous (07/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “Could I get Wally x reader where reader moves into the neighborhood after a car accident, and the two become very close. One day Wally learns that reader's family is actually pretty rich but reader didn't want anyone treating them different because of it? Also Wally finds out around Christmas time as reader's parents wanna meet Wally for Christmas”

warning(s) ; references to injuries, references to a car crash, references to hospitalisation, but mostly fluff

you moving to the neighbourhood had been less of an active choice and more of a compromise with some of your more fretful family members

you’d wanted to maintain your independence after your car accident whilst you healed

they wanted you out of the busy city where it happened (and where you lived)

so rather than move back home and be pitied 24/7 by family, friends and staff, you just barely managed to convince them to let you move away to a smaller, more rural town

you had your little bungalow that gave you full freedom to move around with your mobility aids

everything and everyone was a stone’s throw away from everything else, so there weren’t any cars (in fact the only vehicle you’d seen was a unicycle in front of one of your neighbours’ houses)

it was completely isolated from everywhere else aside from a small gravel road which, being your typical country road, was very thin, very rarely used and you only really saw deliveries being dropped off to the local grocers and the post office

so maybe one or two cars a week tops and they never came anywhere near your little home

your family were appeased, you got to keep your independence, and as an added bonus you got to move into the quaintest little neighbourhood ever

everyone was so friendly and keen to get to know you that it threw you for a loop — having come from such a large city to somewhere where everybody knows everybody it was bound to happen

but you couldn’t say that you particularly minded

eddie, the postman, was always happy to stop by and chat as he went about his rounds in the morning — he was also happy to offer any assistance if a delivery happened to be a bit too heavy or large for you to carry in on your own

howdy, the grocer, always made sure that he had what you needed in stock — even preemptively ordering things like your medications and other things you needed for the upkeep of your health (e.g. new wrappings for injuries, oil if you’re using a wheelchair with a squeaky wheel, and so on)

julie, a particularly colourful neighbour, was always happy to stop by and make you feel beautiful even when you were too worn down to even really get out of bed — keeping materials and items on her that best suit your hair texture from the moment she starts randomly dropping by

frank, a neighbour who was particularly fond of butterflies, was someone you came to appreciate because he didn’t dance around your injury and accident — he’d ask you how you were feeling or drop off some books that might apply to your situation, but he never imposed himself on you too much

poppy, a bird who lived just down the street, was always happy to come to your aid during your bad days — stopping by without a peep of complaint and cooking and baking some food for you, always making sure that you’re taken care of even when you don’t have the energy

barnaby and sally, two more neighbours that live for performance and laughter, became the highlights of your days as they would always make a point to stop by and entertain you with whatever jokes or plays they thought of — becoming part of your routine by making you smile

and they did it all without you needing to ask because they all cared so deeply for one another and for you that it was never even a question about them taking care of you

of course they weren’t overbearing, but they did make sure that you were in good spirits and good health as you healed — keeping enough of an eye out to be able to step in when you weren’t able to step up for yourself

by carrying your deliveries inside, by keeping what you need in stock, by keeping your self confidence high, by keeping you well fed, by making you smile so wide your cheeks hurt and by making you laugh so hard you’re crying

but out of all of your neighbours, one stood out the most; a blue haired painter called wally darling

though you usually just called him ‘darling’ — because you could easily get away with the pet name and because you always got a curious look from him when you did it

wally was the first one to greet you when you moved in, offering to help you put your house back together and complimenting the art pieces you’d been gifted by friends and family

he’s a painter and can appreciate the fine arts, you see — and you appreciated how friendly and conversational he was because you very quickly started to feel at home

and by the time the rest of the town had stepped in to help you organise your belongings, everyone was smiling and laughing and joking and talking like old friends — you almost forgot that you’d known them for less than a day because of it all

it really was a team effort and you smile whenever you recall the utter chaos that was your first week in the neighbourhood

howdy with his four arms carrying a pile of boxes so high that he had to shuffle through your front door on his knees — peering around the stack to smile sheepishly and ask you where everything needed to go (which took you a few moments as you needed to pick your jaw up off of the floor)

julie guiding everyone around the bungalow with the precision of an air traffic controller, using two rolls of wallpaper to ensure that everyone could see her through the mess that was your home layout

eddie and frank carefully — carefully — carrying in your sofa and your bed and placing them according to your and julie’s instructions (and dropping them on poor frank’s foot… twice)

barnaby making good use of his height and strength to bring in the remainder of your furnishings, cracking plenty of jokes along the way that had you snorting and eddie making a victim of poor frank every time he laughed

poppy making good on her promise to keep things organised and ensuring that all of your utensils and trinkets and small things ended up in the right place — leaving the home more organised than you’d ever had it

sally helping move any left over boxes from the moving van to the house all the while making a performance of it — including an impromptu recital of a shakespearean monologue whilst holding a snow globe that had cracked during shipping

wally painting and glossing your walls and cabinets throughout this whole mess, occasionally popping his head back into the main room to poke fun at everyone or to ask how everything was going

all of you dipping your hands — or paws, or wing — in paint and slapping them against the wall just above your fireplace before writing your names in your best handwriting just beneath them

a permanent reminder of your hard work and the mess you made

a mess that was definitely preferable to the weeks you spent bedbound in the hospital after being injured, feeling so very isolated and bored in the aftermath of everything you’d been through

that week was also the start of your relationship — well, at least it was when the two of you started dancing around your feelings and finding excuses to spend time with each other

wally would frequently pop by your home with a new painting or sketch that he’d made for you — getting to the point where a good portion of your house was covered with his work

you’d spend hours talking on the phone — he’d be the first one you called whenever you felt particularly low

he was the only one you divulged the full details of your accident to — thankful that he didn’t pity you or question it beyond telling you to reach out if you needed anything

you’re the only one he shares his apples with (and who gets to see his abnormal way of eating)

you’ll go out on small picnics into a nearby field and he’ll help you get up and down from the blanket, not once making a fuss or batting an eye, instead focusing on more important things like eating and watching butterflies

butterflies like the ones you felt whenever he looked at you or touched you or smiled or laughed or —

needless to say you were head over heels — and since wally was as well, it took very little time for the two of you to become an item

(with plenty of encouragement from your neighbours who were, by now, more than done with both of you tiptoeing around the obvious)

it’s safe to say that he thinks you’re the absolute most

and when the holidays come around and your family, who you haven’t really thought about beyond the occasional letter or phone call, want to stop by and visit, wally is happy to play host

he insists on going the full nine yards but compromises with you that you’ll host at your home and you’ll share the duties of decorating, cleaning and cooking

which quickly become more playful than dull because it’s you two so of course they do

and come the day of, you’re both completely prepared — even if your poor boyfriend is quietly sweating bullets and a mixture of excitement and anxiety as they pull up

and then you realise that you forgot to warn wally about your family

but it’s far too late for that as they’re already at the door and you’re already greeting them — and oh god there’s that antique necklace and that designer handbag and she’s giving his colourful outfit a strange look and wally’s noticed and he’s looking at you and oh dear…

thankfully he’s able to hide his surprise well (has his expression ever changed from that smile?) and as your folks fawn over you and your home and they bring in all of the gifts you’re only given enough time to shrug and smile apologetically before you’re both whisked away to play host

thankfully your boyfriend is an excellent public speaker and is able to charm your family enough to keep them entertained and cooperative (and stop them from invading your personal space and infantilising you) as he serves everyone the meal you’d prepared

by the time he’s sat down beside you and you’re all digging in to the feast you’d made, you’re able to relax because your relatives all clearly adore him

they ask him about the neighbourhood and his job and your relationship — all of which he answers tactfully and politely before moving on with questions of his own

and when the time comes to open your presents (including some generic gifts they’d bought wally as a measure of politeness), your fear of being perceived differently has practically faded away

you’re sat on the sofa, he’s holding your hand in his own, and your family are bickering amongst themselves amongst an ocean of wrapping paper and presents worth half a mortgage but it feels like home — and whilst he does give you a bit of a funny look, he assures you quietly that he gets it

he just would have appreciated a bit of fair warning about it — which is understandable

and you don’t know why you ever doubted your silly little blue haired boyfriend for a moment

he really is the absolute most

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #fluff hcs #fluff #welcome home fluff

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