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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 7 months ago

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Met His Match. || Soap MacTavish (Collab)

A collab with @crashtestbunny.

Find us on AO3!

Words: 3.5K~ Pairing: Sex Fiend!Reader x One Night Stand!Soap CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut smut smut, dubcon elements, unprotected piv, oral sex (f!receiving), public handjob (m!receiving), overstimulation, bathroom sex, sadism, dom/sub, rough sex, sub John "Soap" MacTavish, forced ejaculation, semi-public sex, whining, light exhibitionism, power play, dry orgasm. other tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, dating app, hook-up, one night stand, mean reader, exhaustion, walk of shame summary: Johnny gets fucked. a/n: Inspired loosely by my "It's a Match!" fic... but so much fucking worse. P.S. Not beta-read, we die like soap.

Friday night. 6 PM.

You just got home from work and after making yourself a quick meal, you threw yourself on the couch.

Reaching for your phone you click on the Tinder icon on your home screen and immediately begin swiping away at the men that come across your screen.

You're not being too picky. Still a bit picky, but not too much. It doesn't matter that much what they look like... so much as what you feel once you see their picture.

You're not on this app for the romance, after all. No.

You're tired and frustrated from your week and all you want is to fuck a man. In fact, you want to fuck a man so hard he leaves your flat in the morning looking (and feeling) like a cheap whore.

You'll know what kind of man you're in the mood for when you see him.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

That's when a man with the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen comes across your screen. You stop the mindless swiping immediately and just stare at him.

You can already imagine the way those blue eyes would look up at you from between your thighs, and how much better his face will look when they're glassy and he's covered in sweat and drooling down his chin...

Oh yeah, he's what you're looking for alright.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

If that bio is anything to go off of, he's also looking for something casual. After all, he mentions fingering and being ridden in the same paragraph. Perfect.

You Swipe Right on him and your phone immediately buzzes, announcing that you matched. Sweet.

Johnny texts you first. How... cute.

Johnny: hi beautiful x Johnny: how are you doing?

Oh, sweet summer child... what does he think this is? Small talk that'll lead onto a date?

You: doing good. You: how's your night looking?

It takes a minute before his reply comes.

Johnny: very free Johnny: wanna hook up?

There we go, Johnny-boy. That's the spirit.

You: would love that You: do you know that one bar around the corner from the post office? Johnny: of course You: meet there in an hour? Johnny: i'll be there Johnny: i'll be wearing blue

You can't help but chuckle... he won't be wearing much of anything soon enough.

Finding him at the bar is extremely easy because the bar is not packed, albeit still pretty busy. But that's not why you picked it. You picked it because it's only a short car ride from your flat.

Johnny is leaning on the bar, as promised, wearing a dark blue t-shirt, dark wash jeans, and a pair of simple black boots.

You approach him from behind, wearing a simple black dress. Not one of those flashy, slinky club types, just a regular dress. You know what you came here to get.

"Hey." You greet him casually and he turns to look at you, his hand wrapped around a lowball glass with some drink inside. It's clear... so either tequilla or vodka.

When he turns you realize three things immediately: 1) He lied about his height. He's definitely not 6ft tall, but 5ft10 at the most; 2) He's built like a brick shithouse, impossibly wide shoulders with large, beefy arms... So he wasn't lying about his 'Athletic' build; and 3) He has a fucking mohawk.

You can already imagine the way he'd look, your legs over his shoulders, as you squeezed his head between your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds... Fuck, you're horny.

"...nice. What are you drinking? I'll buy." You catch the end of what he said, the beginning probably a greeeting, and a compliment, and, now an offer of a drink.

You try to shrug casually and seem unbothered. You decide to humour him. If he wants to play the gentleman part and pretend this is a date, you can play along.

"Whiskey. Neat." You murmur in reply as you slot yourself next to him against the bar, your thigh brushing against his as he orders and pays for your drink.

"So, a soldier, huh? What's that like?" You muse as you take a sip of your drink, watching him take a sip of his, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Oh, how you'd love to wrap a hand around...

"I like it. Always ken I wanted to be one. Tried to sign early and everythin'. I like keepin' active and I'm good at what I do..."

He continued talking, but you tuned him out, eyes locked on his mouth, watching how his lips pushed and pulled for each word, his white teeth in a neat row behind and his wet tongue sometimes peeking out.

He talked a lot. He talked... too much.

"Let me cut you off right there." You interrupted him, causing him to shut his mouth and stare at you. "Care to have this conversation between my legs, gorgeous?"

Johnny stares at you with impossibly wide eyes, like what you just said is the most bizarre thing he's ever heard. His left brow, right below an obvious scar, twitches, a sign he's interested. "...When?" He asks in a murmur.

"Right now." You reply with a head tilt.

The blue-eyed Scot simply nods eagerly and knocks back the contents of his drink into his mouth.

"That's it... That's fucking it-" You croon as you buck your hips into his mouth, your back pressed against the wall, the hem of your dress curled up and tucked into the elastic band of your bra.

Johnny's on his knees on the floor of the cubicle, his tongue lapping at your slick cunt like he's a prisoner on death row and that's his last meal request and he insists on enjoying it.

One of his hands grips your right thigh, squeezing it and keeping it steady, the other alternating between rubbing your clit and going around the back of your hip to squeeze one of your arse cheeks, pulling you deeper into his mouth whenever he licks and sucks your clit.

His blue eyes are locked on yours and they look just as good as you had imagined they would as his moist tongue curls to gather some of your slick and swallow it down, to taste as much of it as he can.

He's such a fucking munch, his tongue parting your folds and diving as deep into your hole as he can get it, before sliding back up to meet your clit, giving it a greedy suck.

There's a smug smirk on his lips, even as they're buried in your cunny, and a chuckle falls from them too while he thrashes his head side to side like a dog playing tug-of-war, nearly blowing raspberries on your clit and causing you to squirm against him, more expletives falling from your mouth.

You know what he's thinking. He thinks he's in charge. He thinks he's doing a good job fucking you. Oh, how wrong he is. And you're about to show him that.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, sweetheart." You demand as you push his hands off your body and grab onto his stupid fucking mohawk with both hands like a handle to grind yourself against his face.

His eyes widen, but the sight of you using his mouth, his tongue, to get yourself off, hips bucking and dragging across his chin and tongue, lips and nose is enough to get him riled up.

He can't help himself, his hands finding a spot on the floor and his own legs spreading apart, allowing him to half-grind his clothed cock against the tile.

His head bobs eagerly against you, his nose buried in your mons, the flat of his tongue rubbing over your clit, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, crotch and folds.

Your legs are trembling on either side of his head, but you don't stop riding yourself against his tongue, your head falling back against the tiled wall behind you, the pitch of your voice getting higher and higher.

The way the flat of his tongue presses to your clit causes your whole body to shake, your skin warming up more and more to the touch. The coil in your stomach is getting tighter by the second and your breath, as well as your moans, are ragged and long.

Your hips buck and thrash and your head hangs low suddenly as your climax crashes onto you, leaving you breathing fast and deep, your eyes fluttering a bit as you look down to find Johnny kneeling between your thighs, his tongue still softly sliding upward, spreading your folds open and swallowing your come deep into his mouth.

"That's it, drink up, I'm not giving you water anytime soon, sweetheart." You tell him, noticing how his eyes have gone glassy, a wet spot having formed in his dark jeans.

Filthy mutt got off on having you fuck yourself on his tongue...

Having pulled Johnny off you and fixed your dress back into place, you called an Uber and then dragged the bulky man out of the bar by the hand, marching ahead of him toward the pavement, under a street lamp, to wait for your ride.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you guided your mouth up Johnny's chin toward his mouth, locking lips with him, your tongue seeking his out.

His beard and mouth are both still soaked with your come, he smells of it, and tastes of it too, and with each push and pull of your tongues as you seek each other out, you get more of a taste of yourself.

You only broke the kiss once the Uber arrived, your phone having pinged with a warning, and a car having pulled to the side of the road not far from the two of you.

You and Johnny piled in together and while he scooted all the way across the backseat toward the other door, you slid up next to him as you two greeted the driver.

You didn't bother with a seatbelt (neither did Johnny) and since the driver didn't seem too keen on chit-chat, you allowed yourself to drape a leg across Johnny's lap, while his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your fingers slid over his thigh toward the darkened patch of denim on his crotch, and, with your leg (and the music playing from the speakers) as cover, you slowly undid the fly and button.

"What are ye-" Johnny murmured as he glanced at you with raised brows and wide eyes, like an innocent little puppy.

"Sh-shh..." You hissed as you kissed his cheek, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, or an overly affectionate date, for your driver's sake, you slowly slid your fingers through the open zipper, fishing for his cock amidst the wet fabric of his boxer briefs.

The pretty boy was already at half-mast again, even after having already come once, and your hand quickly wrapped around it as you began stroking it.

Johnny thighs trembled and his legs kicked out a bit as he felt your warm hand wrap around his sensitive member, and he looked away, out of the window, eyelids fluttering, eyebrows scrunched, and a hard bite on his bottom lip.

His cock began steadily throbbing in your hand, hardening and growing more with each languid stroke of your hand around him. He's thick. Much thicker than you expected him to be. You can feel your fingers struggling to fully wrap around him.

Sliding your palm up, you slowly rub over the hooded tip, which draws a squeak from the back of his throat, his chest heaving, and his stomach being sucked in.

"Control yourself..." You whispered in his ear which, making sure to shoot a glance forward at the Uber driver, who seemed focus on the road.

In response, you received yet another soft groan and a hiss through clenched teeth, Johnny's head lulling toward you, his forehead leaning against your temple. "Feels... fuck... I can't... you're... ah-"

"Feels good?" You murmur in his ear as you kiss his bearded jaw lightly, feeling him buck a bit against your hand, causing your thigh to bounce on his lap.

"Hm... Mhm..." Johnny grunted. "Fuck... Steamin' Jesus..." He whined brokenly as your hand kept stroking his length fully, up and down, at a slow, languid pace.

You'd draw back the foreskin, exposing the bulbous head, before drawing it up again as your hand climbed up to rub against the tip for a moment, only to roll back down once more.

Whenever the car would drive past a street lamp, the yellow-toned light would flutter briefly over Johnny's exposed cock, and draw your attention right to his pink, bulbous tip, overstimulated and angry, leaking shiny beads of pre-cum.

"Sh-Shh..." You cooed at him again, enjoying the broken sounds of pleasure he'd let out through clenched teeth, the way his cock would throb and twitch in your hand, and how the muscular man next to you vibrated with tension.

Oh, how you loved to make men break under your hand, and, even more so, how much you loved to make men like him break. A soldier, a strong man, used to dominating... How silly of him to think he had any power here...

It takes little time for Johnny to suddenly twitch and thrash next to you, his breath picking up and becoming ragged and wet, like he's struggling to control himself into being quiet...

You look up at him just in time, finding the way his head falls back on the headrest of his seat, while he grunted under his breath and hissed through his teeth, again, and again, his eyes fluttering shut as he experienced a dry orgasm, only the tiniest beads of cum slipping down to your fingers right below the head.

Just in time too, because the Uber pulled over less than a minute later, the Uber driver looking back at you and Johnny. "We're here, Miss." He told you politely.

"Thank you, Jared. I'll be sure to leave you a 5-star rating and a good tip." You replied to the driver as you slipped your leg off Johnny's lap and scooted closer to the other door.

After opening the door, you turned again and grabbed Johnny by his shirt collar, your fingers hooking themselves onto the inside of it and grazing his dog tags hanging around his neck.

Smirking, you slip them from the confines of the shirt and then twirl the ball chain around your forefinger like a lead, pulling it taut, which causes Johnny to audibly whine.

"C'mon, Johnny." You ordered as you tugged him forward, causing him to scoot forward, ducking his head to follow you out of the car, his movements languid and slow, his head still cloudy from the recent orgasm.

"Fuck, yes! Fuck!" You whine, your head falling back, your hair sticking to your forehead and your nape.

"Steamin' fuckin' Jesus... Fuck..." Johnny groans, his own head rolling back on the mattress of your bed.

"Yes... Yes..." You grunt as you fix your grip on the bottom of his thighs, right before his knees, bouncing your ass off his lap.

Johnny's mouth is hanging open, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he lies on a puddle of his own sweat, every inch of his exposed, hairy torso glistening under the light of your bedside lamp.

You're both exhausted, your hands slippery on his sweaty thighs, your own sometimes shaking as you bounce on him again, and again.

Your pace is starting to become uncoordinated and sloppy because your legs are tired, your knees struggling to keep up and causing you to stutter atop him, driving his cock harder into you and deep against your cervix twice in a row.

It drives a desperate moan out of you both and you go still for a moment, feeling the sweat trickle down your brow.

"Fuck... C'mon..." Johnny whines and grabs you by the hip, attempting to rock his hips up against the cleft of your ass, helping pound into you...

Only for you to bounce up with him and then throw all your weight down onto him, causing his ass to be pinned back down onto the bed, and drawing a loud yowl of surprise as his cock barrels right against your cervix, sending a sting of pain up your spine.

Johnny looks up at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, seemingly horrified and confused.

Finding his eyes, you lean forward, pressing your hands onto his chest, before murmuring "Stay fucking still. This isn't about you."

"Sorry?" Johnny murmurs, whether in confusion or genuinely apology, you don't know.

"You're nothing more than a toy right now. And good toys don't talk." You warn him.

"I-" He stuttered, not fast enough to protest before you were moving atop him again, the new angle and slight pause having provided you with an extra burst of energy.

You rocked against him, keeping him buried down to the hilt and rubbing your sensitive clit against the bush at the base of his cock.

It makes you croon in delight, keeping up the same angle but becoming more and more frantic, rubbing yourself against his bush while keeping his shaft sheathed nice and deep in your weeping cunny.

Something about the warm wetness enveloping his already oversensitive cock, the sight of your face contorting in pleasure atop him, so close and yet so far, your hands pushing against his chest so he doesn't try to reach for you.

It drives him over the edge and he finds himself losing it, his big blue eyes fluttering and rolling, his jaw dropping and his every muscle straining as his head falls back, causing him to stiffen beneath you.

Out of breath, you lean your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of your release coming in the aftermath of his own, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you being the final nail in the coffin.

Johnny doesn't dare move as he feels your warm cunt squeeze around him, draining every last drop from his already reduced third orgasm, simply lying there, beneath you.

His mouth is hanging open, drier than the Sahara, every inch of him is slick with sweat and he's out of breath and his entire body is trembling ever so slightly as he closes his eyes in pure bliss.

Only for his eyes to shoot open again as he feels you start up again, your ass carefully bouncing off his sore thighs.

Johnny stumbles his way into the training room. It's 6 a.m. and he has not caught a fucking wink of sleep.

Unlike his normal hook-ups, after which he reports to base with a pep in his step and a smirk on his lips that no amount of push-ups, sit-ups and mile runs can wipe off...

This time, he's limping, every muscle of his feeling sore and stiff, his thighs feel like they're going to bruise up, his cock burns from how oversensitive it is...

He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't drunk water... and the closest thing to a shower he got was when you tossed him some wet wipes in the morning.

Unlike him, you had gotten up in the morning (aka after a 1.5 hour power nap) perfectly energized and like you hadn't spent half of the night riding him like a stallion you were trying to break...

Gaz is the first to notice Johnny's state as the Scot falls into formation with the rest of the unit, his eyes still sort of glassy. But he doesn't say anything... he simply raises a brow and smirks in amusement.

Ghost is standing by Price on the sidelines and notices next and, unlike Gaz, he chuckles at it and calls Price's attention to it. The Captain turns to look at Soap and has to contain the look of amused disappointment from showing on his face.

"Soap!" The Captain calls out, causing Soap to look over, nearly languidly and then approach, with Gaz following behind him, despite not having been called. He just... wanted in on the fun.

"The fuck happened to you, son? Did you get in a fight?" Price asks with a cocked brow, watching how the younger sergeant squirms and his tanned face grows warmer.

"N-No sir." Johnny replies and shakes his head, which causes him to wince, feeling light-headed.

"I think 'assaulted' would be a better word for it, Cap'n." Gaz chides, causing the Scot to huff and turn his head in frustration and embarrassment.

"Shut it, Garrick..." Soap murmurs, which earns a light chuckle from all the men, Ghost included.

"Go shower and take a nap. You're excused for this morning." Price tells the sergeant, causing the lad to nod thankfully and wander off, limping once more.

As he gets back to his barracks, he grabs his phone, typing out a quick message for you, thankful you insisted on giving him your number and taking his... Johnny secretly hoped that meant you wanted a repeat.

"Hope you're happy... Made me embarrass myself in the state I showed up to training in."

The reply he earned, however, was the most cold-hearted one he could've received... One he never even saw coming.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

Read Bunny's Work HERE

#ikea writes 💚#cod x reader #cod fanfic #masterlist #call of duty #cod fandom #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #cod smut #smut #johnny mactavish smut #johnny mactavish is a mutt #soap smut

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scarycranegame · 4 months ago

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Honestly, I've read your response and had to agree on everything you wrote there - to be honest I feel like Beefy Die fans often forget about those particular scenes in the show, for example G.B having PTSD, F.our abusing .X. in early BFB (Pre-Split) or the whole fuckfest that was B.FDIA 5 (especially 5.b), or I.D.F.B, or whatever.

Funny enough, other Ob.ject s.hows have the same problem as well, especially H.FJONE and I.I. H.FJONE, because a lot of people just decide to ship L.iam and B.ryce, even in spite of everything, woobifying them.

The comment about F.irey Jr., R.ocky and G.rassy is just true, they're not minors for me, they're adults for me, A FUCKING GROW UPS!

About blocking antis who follow me... I'm conflicted, because I'm friends with lots of them and all, I just feel like... They could start literally harrassing me, if I revealed who I am truly.

And also I noticed hipocrisy there with Beefy Die and Animate Sanity (I.I) fans - they LOVE consuming gore, making object bleed, shipping them, but when it comes to more dark themes (ex. sexual abuse, rape, mental instability) they start to hate on any works having those shit in them

~🍩💜

yeah no i know other shows have this issue too; the whole o.sc has this issue.. and yeah a lot of people misrepresent s.odap.ack as this "omg so wholesome!!" ship when like. no. liam and bryce have a trauma bond. if they were to get together their relationship would revolve around that, not any kind of healthy dynamic like most people portray in fics/art/etc

also i love the idea of rocky, firey jr, and grassy being adults.. personally i headcanon that they're older than most of the cast, and firey jr is firey's weird older brother LMAO

and lastly i hate to break it to you but if your anti "friends" would turn on a dime and harass you for being who you really are, they aren't your friends. i know it's difficult to come to terms with, especially if you've known them for a long time, but i promise you'll be much happier being friends with people who like you for who you are as opposed to people who like you for who they want you to be (also they can't harass you if you block them on everything; as long as you don't start arguing with them you'll most likely be fine)

#scary crane answer #beefy die tag #proship #proshippers please interact #anti anti #anti-anti #antis dni #also worth mentioning is that a lot of the o.sc DOES actually write about mental instability but does it in a ''quirky creepypasta!!'' way #which. again. nice job being ableist o.sc #honestly i could go on forever about all the weird ableist shit this community does #and how weird it is that everyone is just. completely okay with it #yeah i know it's talking objects but jesus christ some of these people are genuinely concerning

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karlachismylife · 4 days ago

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Johnny's dead on the ground.

Correction: Johnny's dying on the ground. Time warps and stretches out, his last seconds dragging for ages long enough for galaxies to be born and die in blindingly white sparkles before his wide open eyes. His limbs grow cold and stiff, akin to pork legs hanging down in smelly rows inside a butcher's freezer - meat that went through a slaughterhouse, his temple stil throbbing after a bolt gun aimed at the fine cattle.

Slaughtered in a blink of an eye, no higher aim or meaning. Simple as that, just a young lamb down.

It burns, this spot, fevereshly hot, something steamy and moist leaking down his cheek and jawline. Feels like a branding iron stuck to his skin, warmth spreading around it through otherwise cooling off body. White pain so bad that hot and cold start to mix up, creating a stagnant, sickly burial shroud of warmth around him - it hovers, but doesn't touch him.

Leaves him without his last consolation.

His chest is compressed, barely able to move for another wheezing breath. A considerable weight pressing down on him, preventing from filling his lungs properly for what may be his last time - steel hoops stacked flush to each other tighten around his ribs. The fire that was burning through his temple finally eats through his flesh to his eyes.

His lashes flutter and he loses sight, stinging white finally replaced with a comfortable black.

Johnny's dead on the ground.

The weight on top of him shifts, relieving some of itself from his chest, and a blow of cool air hits the damp side of his face that was branded by that scorching heat, immediately making his skin prickle. Uncomfortable, Soap scrunches his nose and unwillingly opens his eyes.

There are two yellow feline eyes staring right back at him in front of his mug, and the moment they spot him move, a Cheshire cat smile spreads on the handsome face above, sharp fangs flashing. Something whips at his freezing knee.

"Hey, soldier," coos Karlach in a hushed tone, brushing the tip of her nose along his. "Got ya, eh? You're dead."

"Aye. KIA, bonnie. Ye'll havtae tell mah Mam."

With a sigh, now that the whole mass of a beefy tiefling isn't crushing his ribs, Soap wipes the temple she kissed and left the wetness of her breath on, and drops his wide spread arms in a dramatic gesture - or preparation to make a snow angel. The legs will probably be all fucked up after he got ambushed by Karlach and tumbled into the thick winter crystal blanket with her in a wrestling embrace.

"You'll tell her yourself. Come on, get up, it's your turn!" Karlach snorts, wrinkling her nose in an adorable snicker, and Johnny blinks at her as she rises to her feet with a grunt. There are rogue snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes, and they fracture the light in a way that creates a holy rainbow halo around her devilish horns.

"Hm... nae, Ah'm comfy 'ere." He grins and immediately gets rammed into his side, rolling over with a pained "oomf!" - the push Karlach gives him is softened by the thick winter attire, so Johnny needs to play up the ache. "Och! Did na yin teach ye nae tae kick who's already doon?"

"Get yer arse up, Johnny. Don't want ya freezing yer bollocks off, eh? Gonna need 'em later." Snow seems to forget it's crunchy and squeaky under heavy boots when it's Ghost walking up to them. Before Simon can scruff him, Johnny's already up and shaking wet white chunks off his ass with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"I'm not waiting for you, mate. You're it!" - is all they hear before Karlach turns into a bright red smudge on a snowy slope, her heavy footsteps sinking into the pliant cover on the ground.

"Well?" Simon raises an eyebrow and nods in the direction of the fleeing tiefling. "Your bird's flyin' away."

Good thing he's almost finished with his ciggy, because in the glossy blue eyes Johnny squints against the reflective brightness of the snow reads clear as day - Ghost is getting tagged next.

#i guess i should honour the anniversary of NOTHING HAPPENING #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod #karlach #bg3 karlach #karlach x soap #call of duty #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #maybe also #ghoap x karlach #and #ghoap #ghost x soap #if you squint #oneshot

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youwouldntdownloadapizza · 10 months ago

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The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 3 - The Cabin

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

previous | next

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.1k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: canon-typical violence, violence towards children, nightmares

Chapter 3 - The Cabin

By the time you descended the ladder, Joel had everything set up. A clean, if dusty and threadbare, blanket was spread before the fireplace. He’d managed to get the fire going, and while it hadn’t reached a roar, it was plenty hot enough to heat some cans for dinner.

“What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, gesturing between two cans with a pilfered can opener. “I’ve got alphabet soup or beefy ravioli.”

“Ravioli, please,” you said decisively, taking a seat beside him on the blanket. It took a second of him staring at you expectantly for you to realize he was holding out your selection. You took it and dug in.

“Holy shit,” you nearly moaned, the zing of 20-year-old marinara a delight to tired taste buds.

“That good, huh?” Joel asked.

You nodded–yeah, it was really that good.

“Maybe Ellie’s onto something,” he chuckled, digging into his own dinner. You cocked an eyebrow. He elaborated, “She’s big on Chef Boyardee, too. Who knew he’d have so many fans in the apocalypse?”

“I don’t know,” you joked. “Fungal pandemics come and go, but pasta is forever.”

He laughed mid-chew, snorting so effusively a J-shaped piece of pasta landed at your feet.

“Huh,” you said. “J for Joel.”

You ate the rest of your food in relative silence, the levity of the first few bites subsiding once you realized how hungry you truly were.

A few minutes later, you set your empty can on the hearth with a clatter. “I’m gonna turn in.”

Joel nodded. “I’ll take first watch. Good night, Doe.”

“Night, Joel.”

Upon further inspection, the puke-covered couch appeared to convert into a mostly unscathed bed. It felt almost wrong to tuck yourself beneath such cozy bedding in your filthy patrol clothes. Especially since you had to be ready to spring into action at any moment, which meant your shoes stayed on too. But it’s not like there were other options. You lay your head atop the impossibly fluffy pillow, and let your eyes fall shut. Before you knew it, you were asleep.

* * *

You only ever saw Steffy in your dreams anymore. Your baby sister had been there for the collapse of the Salt Lake City QZ, escaping alongside you. But somewhere between fleeing and finding yourself at the gates of Jackson, you’d lost her. You’re not sure what happened exactly, but the dread in the pit of your stomach left no room for wondering: Steffy was dead.

She was alive right now, though. You were little again, sitting on the terracotta tiles of your Aunt Suzie’s back porch. It was summer, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the magnolia tree above you.

While the adults grilled, you and Steffy had a tea party. All the best dolls were invited, teddy bears too. Even Steffy’s favorite, a bedraggled rat plushie named Ratty.

“Ratty wants Earl Grey,” Steffy said, holding out a tiny teacup and saucer.

“Why, of course,” you replied in a bad British accent, pretending to pour him a cup.

Steffy made Ratty drink the whole cup in one gulp. “Dee-licious.”

You giggled. She giggled. It was contagious, the two of you devolving into downright guffaws when you noticed the adults’ chatter had stopped. Looking over your sister’s shoulder, your face fell.

“What’s wrong?” Steffy asked with a tilt of her head.

You wanted to tell her to run. You wanted to tell her to get behind you, that something was wrong. But you were frozen.

That’s when the clicker sunk its teeth into her neck.

You woke with a start, flailing wildly, arm connecting with something hard, something that let out an ‘oof’ in response. Joel. You had hit Joel. Based on the proximity, you guessed he was trying to wake you.

“Sorry,” you panted, heart still racing from your dream. “Time for my watch?”

“No,” you could barely make out the shake of his head against what was left of the dying firelight. “It’s only been a couple hours. You were flailin’ about, looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Oh,” you said. “Thank you. I’m fine now.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. “I’m here, y’know. If you want to… talk about it, or anything.”

You were still shaky. Your heart was still going so fast. But you weren’t about to discuss your dead sister with Joel Miller.

“I’m fine.” You doubled down, softer than you meant to.

“Okay,” he backed off, returning to his spot leaned up against the fireplace, eyes on the door.

Minutes passed, and your heart was still racing. Your hand throbbed, and you wondered how hard you’d hit Joel. Hopefully not hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” you said softly through the darkness.

“It’s fine, Doe. You were dreaming.”

You hated the way he brushed away your concerns, the way he gave you grace. In your experience, people rarely let others off the hook, not really. There was always some resentment that lingered.

If you were going to owe him, you might as well really owe him.

“Joel?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep,” you confessed.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself to ask for what you wanted. “Will you cuddle with me? It’s not you, it’s just…I need another person. We’re safe here, we don’t need a watch, not really. And I need you.”

“Thought you said it wasn’t personal.”

“It’s not,” you bristled. “But I thought it would be nice.”

“Never said it wouldn’t be, sweetheart.”

You lay there expectantly for what felt like ages. Then, finally, you heard the squeak of old floorboards under his boots, and felt the squish of the mattress as he climbed onto it beside you. You found a position easily, one arm beneath your head, his other loosely draped across your waist.

Your heart slowed marginally, but your breathing remained fast and light.

“Relax, sweetheart. You gotta breathe.”

“I can’t–” you started. He cut you off with a hand to your stomach.

“You can.” He pulled you back against him gently, not so tight you were crushed, but just enough for you to feel the expanding and contracting of his own breath against your back. “Breathe with me, alright?”

You nodded with a shuddering breath. He tapped your stomach lightly with his thumb. You matched his inhale, breathing deeply and resenting the fact that this shit works every goddamn time. Within a few minutes, you were calm. Or as calm as you were going to get, anyway.

“I get them too, you know,” Joel admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were still pulled close against him, neither of you having made a move to scramble apart once your breathing returned to normal. At his admission, you relaxed into him fully, taking his free hand in yours.

Before you knew it, you were asleep once more, dreamless and deep, held safe and secure in the warmth of Joel’s embrace.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #no use of y/n #joel miller x f!reader #jackson era #joel lives #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction

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bloopitynoot · 1 month ago

Text

Reading SVSSS: Bonus Chapter 26

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

This chapter took me two days to go through! It's SO LONG (120 pages). I wanted to post yesterday but I got 60 pages in and started fading. Winter is here and the sun keeps disappearing too quickly, your boy is feeling the SAD.

The tea photo is from today and not yesterday- I tried out a new one it's almond amaranth and rooibos.

let's get into this monster of a chapter!

Fuck yeah, we have an airplane POV! Though this chapter is BEEFY. I think I'm going to read half today and half tomorrow before posting it (present me: and I did! ^-^).

I love that we are getting all of these forum comments. This is so fun! One of my favourite brands of fics are fics that include elements of social media/forum/blog style au's and this is a vibe! pp140-147

This guy is not wrong "Even though this famous Lord Cucumber spewed criticism constantly and without end in 'Great Master' Airplane's comment section, his subscription payments and demands for updates never waned. Because of this 'Great Master Airplane had come to suspect that this person was a masochist". p148 I mean yeah lol

OMG what an awful way to die! Alone in your house, let's be real - likely in his underwear- via electrocution induced by his sad instant ramen noodle dinner. p149

and the fact that he transmigrated so young. He was there for a while before the plot plotted with SY. 17 years old! p150. I do wonder if there is a wiggly time thing. Like years in the transmigrated novel equal like hours in the world he came from or something. They died close together I think? anyways- any theories on this are welcome!

Same though- Airplane is so real for this. The way in which I would just want to spill all of the foreknowledge and secrets to people I held in my brain as the creator of this universe p153

The SASS [Tip Complete. We wish you the best of luck]. p155

Are you kidding! This man didn't even write the plot that led for his main spy character to becoming a spy...dang man. the potholes are real bad. p156

Okay but this would seriously be me af. I am such a wimp- and that is totally okay! In the face of most definitely death, I would submit myself to being the Little Bitch Boy and pledge myself, my body, my undying love, to my new demon overlord and master. Good for baby him ahaha. p158

"As Shang Qinghua overflowed with snot and tears, clinging on for dear life, begging to pledge fealty to Mobei-Jun - wholly without warning, the demon collapsed." p160 Again, same. I'm feeling seen with Airplane here XD Screaming, crying, throwing up.

Man. I really see how these two end up together (I'm assuming they do?). He had a solid chance to murder the guy and he just couldn't because the character is just his ideal man. p162

"This character had been created entirely to the author's own tastes" p163 MHMMM. Yeah he was.

ehehehe and here we have the only one bed trope at the inn he got to nurse his ideal man back to health. p165

This guy is so shameless. Straight up just watching Mobei-Jun strip while he sits there and snacks. p169

It is so unhinged that this man just has a string tied to his neck pp170-171

that congee- YARF "clear as water" sounds so unappealing p174

"When in doubt- just cry" - Airplane definitely p176

The security on this mountain is so shit. Demons just popping in all the time under the radar. Mobei-jun literally lived there for three days no one even knew XD p183

awww, Airplane tried to warn Liu Qingge about the upcoming Qi deviation. That was nice of him. p190

Yes! Thank you! The scene I have been waiting for; in which the other characters are all like "wtf is up with shen qingqiu? He really is 100% different overnight, but also, no one say anything to him because we like this him better" p192

Fair though, I too would think that SQQ was possessed p194

The way in which airplane is SHAKEN by the actions of SQQ right now is so funny. Him frozen expression, this is NOT the character I wrote what the fuck is happening. p206

Someone commented on an earlier chapter post I had about the theory that the system is the manifestation of airplane's actual wants for the story and like- I stand with this theory. It really checks out with this POV the man keep's fantasizing of a queer man story and like he sure does get it. p207

LOOOOL oh no. the fact that the man who created these characters - VERY different than this experience. Has to listen to Binghe "If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand you intentions?" p208.

Not airplane giving LBH love advice just so cucumber bro can literally Get Fucked. pp212-213

AND THEN HIS ADVICE BACKFIRES WITH MOBEI-JUN LOL"So, if you want to be liked by a man, the best method is to act pathetic?" p214. Like he set this up for himself

Wait. Airplane had the option to return home! And he just didnt??? p217

Airplane really is weak for these villainous men. The way in which he describes Linguang-Jun is so simpy. p228

The drama. Airplane doing the MOST to save Mobei-jun. This man could have avoided all of this and just gone home. What a horrible torture! :( p235

Get it airplane! You yell at him ahaha p237-238

I AM SCREAMING. Airplane: I'm your daddy! p239 AND THEN him just leaving in a panic because he really thinks he's going to get murdered after that outburst LOL

I love SQQ sitting in domesticity with his man giving airplane love advice pp244-245

Awww, Mobei-Jun came back for his boyfriend! He's going to make him hand pulled noodles :'3 p255 I honestly think that Mobei-jun actually needed to be bossed around this entire time

BYE. LOL SGH deciding to continue writing in this world by basically writing slash fanfiction about LBH/SQQ + the other peak lords/famous cultivators LOL p256. Good for him ahaha.

We did it!

This chapter was such a ride ahaha. it was fun to see the POV for airplane but also him and the progression of his weird AF relationship with Mobei-jun. I honestly kind of love these two. They were such a mess in the beginning but it ended so soft :'3

#bloopitynoot reads svsss #svsss spoilers #mxtx svsss #svsss #scum villans self saving system #scum villain #airplane's POV #I love this guy so much #doing the most to save his demon boyfriend

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