#mad max AU

[oceantornadoo]

mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 2: your first night

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

--

you reminded john of rabbits, creatures he'd heard about from campfire stories. your dress, like their fur, white as limestone. you were jumpy and small, fast as the devil. he could feel your legs tense against his, had felt it for the past three hours of the bike ride. ready to hop off and run, to take your chances in the sand and storm of the wasteland. he didn't blame you.

dusk had fallen as the 141 approached their home base. you were already jumping off his bike when he slowed down, eager to put space between the two of you. smart girl. john price did not consider himself a good man, even though he had met men much worse, men who were not man at all. sometimes, he felt that same instinct lurking underneath him, just out of reach.

base was just a small outcropping of rocks. this couldn't be right. suddenly, gaz had disappeared from your view. then, silent as his name, ghost did as well. your eyes finally adjusted to the quick coming darkness and you took in the sight before you. a hole in the ground, covered with a metal frame. a door to the underground. they had hidden their bikes behind the rocks, the shadows playing tricks on your mind. any traveler would pass this place without a second thought. the captain (you still didn't know his name) hid his bike in a similar matter, then gestured to the hole. "down you go." like alice in wonderland, you thought, images of your precious century-old books coming to mind. you jumped.

gaz caught you gracefully. you murmured your thanks, still unused to having male hands touch you so easily. you were no longer a shiny piece of metal on the shelf, you had been taken down for play. in any sense of the word.

electric lighting flickered around the cavern. there were several tunnels leading into the distance, further underground. you stood in a common area, the group's supplies scattered throughout the room. it was lived in but clean, a rarity in a world like yours. the air smelled the opposite of dryness, almost like-

"water?" the captain was offering you drinking water from a canteen. you looked up at him in confusion. "real water?" ghost grunted an affirmation from somewhere in the vicinity, but you were too busy locking eyes at the captain to get specifics. his eyes were so focused on you, so unaware of the kindness of his gesture. was he prepping you for a future as his wife? that must be it. must be why he was so concerned about your period. either way, you were dehydrated from the long drive and took the canteen greedily, slurping at the water. unprincesslike behavior, not fit for a wife, but you didn't care. he'd get what he paid for.

"how do you have water?" your voice croaked slightly from disuse, the water smoothing out the cracks in your throat. "springs. down one of the tunnels. s' why it smells damp. s' our little secret, yeah?" you gaped at gaz's response. with access to a hot spring, they could be kings. they could have a hundred wives each, slaves in the thousands, become kings of the springs in their own right. yet they made small attacks of shipping trades and deals for princesses of gastown? you didn't understand. they seemed to lack the innate violence you thought was required of human nature, of the existence of man.

"long day, yeah? let's regroup tomorrow." the captain led you down the tunnel as you quickly said goodnight to the other outlaws. despite your propensity to save water, your palms grew sweaty. this was when it happened. this was when he'd take you to bed and make you a wife. or at least someone to get mother's milk from. you hoped he'd be somewhat gentle, hoped the other's wouldn't hear your screams. you were so lost in your thoughts you didn't notice the captain had stopped, directing you to a bedroll.

"would you be gentle, please? if i can ask? i won't ask for anything else." your voice sounded tinny in the room, as if another had asked it. the only sound was the echo of the far off spring. the captain paused his state of undress, clothed in only his underwear. you averted your eyes, quelling any attraction that bubbled up in your belly. you were a virgin, had been groomed to be one, but you had had other experiences with some men in gastown. you knew the electricity of attraction, the zing of the moment. you reminded yourself that the captain was your owner, not your lover, and that quickly ended any other feelings.

"gentle, love? what d'ya mean?" he was sprawled on the bedroll, all muscle and fat and hair. his body corded with the results of labor, hidden under a layer of fat that showed his status. you shrugged back your shoulders, reminding yourself you were a princess. "when you bed me." he let out a bark of laughter, turning you shy. were you too proper? you didn't like the other words men used, your stepfather used, when they talked about the act. they felt dirty on your tongue, like spending a night in the desert sand. "'m not gonna fuck you, love." fuck. he said it almost lovingly, like he revered it. tongue tracing the vowels like he'd traced your stomach earlier.

"then...the belt? you bought me?" he patted the bed roll and you finally laid down next to him, less afraid of him now. "'s all politics, sweetheart. i don't fuck people who don't want me inside them. if you ask me, i'll fuck you good. but only then." people. as in not just women. not unheard of, but never blatantly referenced. you wondered about the other outlaws, images of them undressed and sweaty under the captain coming to mind. with the casualness in their interactions, you weren't surprised. some part of your brain, a part you had thought was long gone when you had been sold, conjured another image. being shared. just like that you shivered in the cold dampness, and it was gone.

"body heat. come on." you finally laid against him, back touching his bare chest. he covered you with the threadbare blanket, slinging his arm around your waist and the other under your head. like a personal pillow. the thought was so insane you almost giggled, and he relaxed at the feel of your body calming. his rabbit was finally less jittery, ready for bed. his paw spread against your stomach, callouses brushing against soft skin. he reveled in the feel of your stomach, not concave like most in the wasteland. his pampered princess, cuddled against one of the most feared outlaws in the land. you covered his hand with your own, brushing against the hair there. he nuzzled your neck, memorizing your scent. the sound of it sent a bolt of arousal straight to your core, but you ignored it.

"goodnight, captain." no wonder you were so scared of him. he hadn't told you his name. "s' john, love." your throat hitched. john. "goodnight, john." he hummed against your skin, his own personal goodnight back.

you fell into a dreamless sleep, the events of the day washing in and out. until the atmosphere changed, the feeling of being watched waking you up. you felt john adjust behind you, the feeling of his body draped around you. you could even feel his cock lay heavy against your ass, resting. your eyes blinked open through the darkness of the cave, searching. and you found it in the man sitting a few feet away, cloaked behind a red mask in the shape of a skull, mohawk standing straight.

you screamed.

--

i don't usually write virgin readers but i felt like it made sense for this world. going to try to make it a small deal so every kind of reader can relate. shorter chapter, hoped yall enjoyed!

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 29

Prompt: Explosion

Words: 1600~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

So... recently I finally got around to watching Furiosa.

Mad Max Fury Road is honestly one of my favourite movies and writing a Mad Max Call of Duty Crossover was super fun.

Enjoy!

Soap slid up to the top of the dune, laid belly down just behind the crest, and aimed his binoculars at the loner that they had been idly tracking for the past week.

They’d been aware of the ‘Three Strongholds’ under Immortan Joe since their inception, or since they’d made a name for themselves and started throwing their weight around at least. It was always wise to keep no less than half an eye on manic death cults at any given time, but the word around the wasteland now was that Joe had been overthrown. The one-four-one had no real interest in the going ons of the Citadel, but the trail of explosions, death, and scrapped cars that had run back and forth from the Citadel for a solid week was hard to miss. 

Whether or not the three sisters were willing to trade with outsiders under the new management, now that was something worth checking in on. 

They’d been scouting around the Strongholds on and off for a good month and a half -or fifty odd days as the wastelanders would put it- and the only person that was consistently let in and back out of the Citadel was this one half-feral loner. The man had some kind of freakish sixth sense for being watched and got twitchier than a race horse on crack when they stalked him with any kind of real intent. So, they’d deliberately let him be a back-burner project, circling around to him every so often, until they had all the intel they wanted. They were now relatively sure that he wasn’t some kind of bait, nor would he shoot first and ask questions later.

Soap watched the man finish setting up a meager slap-dash camp, then slid back down the dune to whence he came. They were losing daylight and they really didn’t want to make the bad first impression of approaching the man after dusk, no one with good intentions comes up to a camp at night. 

“Good to go?” Price asked, and Soap immediately knew their Captain was more nervous than he was letting on by the way he was chewing on the butt of one of his precious few cigars. 

“Guid tae go,” Soap affirmed, moseying over to shamelessly press his back into Ghost’s chest. If there was one good thing about the apocalypse, it was that they had to deal with a lot let bureaucracy and homophobes, “He’s jus’ settin’ up fer the nigh’,”

“Good, Good,” Price nodded, taking a deep calming breath and tucking the cigar away in one of his many pockets, “Garrick, with me.”

Price and Gaz walked around so they wouldn’t be approaching the man’s camp directly from theirs, then with one last showing of ‘all-okay’ hand signals from everyone they headed in. It’d been decided early on that when they finally put this ‘meeting the locals’ plan into action Price and Gaz would be the ones sent in for the first meeting, while Ghost and Soap stayed back to guard the transport. 

Max watched the two men sidle up to his car, raising empty hands and stopping where they were when Max pointed a gun at them. Their faces were amiable, but their eyes were sharp. These two were no ordinary wasteland scavs coming in to see if a bit of threatening would get Max to show a soft underbelly.

Being pinned under their intent stares felt oddly familiar. 

“You coming from the Citadel?” The one in the floppy hat asked, politely not lowering his hands. 

The other one got agitated when Max swung his aim to centre on the chatty one. Nothing obvious, but the tensing of his shoulders and the twitch of his fingers rang with discontent. 

Max wasn’t pleased by how rhetorical the question felt, and grunted in a ‘what of it’ manner to get the conversation moving towards their point. 

“We just wanted to ask about it,” Chatty says calmly, “Heard it’s not Immortan’s anymore.”

A pensive hum rolls from Max’s chest. He’s had a few conversations like this before, but he was always the one to initiate them. These men didn’t look to be the kind desperately scraping by and looking for salvation. They weren’t perfect -as scuffed and weather beaten as any other wastelander-, but they were obviously a long ways away from dire straits. Max didn’t enjoy being put on the backfoot like this, and especially didn’t like not knowing what they knew or why they were asking. 

“More?” Max coughs out of his sand-rasped throat, “Of you.” He elaborates when all he gets is blank stares.

They'd walked up to his camp. 

It was smart. Unthreatening and not risking their ride, but it was very dumb to leave anything worth stealing unattended in the wastes; and these men didn’t strike Max as being particularly stupid. 

Max’s question gave them pause, there was much darting of glances as they tried to keep the gun in view and silently debate to a decision at the same time. With a resigned grumble Max let the gun drop, but didn’t holster it. The dip in hostility decided them and -after an exchange of nods- the shorter one backed off the way they came, leaving Chatty behind in Max’s company. 

“‘ppreciate that,” Chatty tipped his chin at the gun now held at Max’s side, with an agreeable smile. 

The smile didn’t make Max feel any safer, that Chatty wasn’t fazed by being left alone with an unknown man showed some brass-balled confidence, and that much self-assurance made Max nervous of what was backing it up. The way Chatty didn’t even twitch at the distinct rumble of a large vehicle approaching them, gave Max his first clue. 

The thickly armoured beast that rolled over the Western dune, clad in faded sand-blasted camo paint, gave him his next one. 

It looked like it was used to taking hits, a thing like that could probably shrug off thundersticks like gnats. Heavily built, the behemoth was blatantly meant for busting through anything that stood in its way, the empty -but well maintained- turret-stand on the roof loaning credence to that idea. There’s no way a goliath like that came with any real acceleration or cornering and it definitely guzzles gas like it’s dying of thirst, but the bike-racks mounted onto its sides tell Max that they’d thought of that and that they weren’t afraid of modding their rolling fortress. 

Two new men hop down from the beast accompanied by the one sent to fetch them, and Max instantly knows why they were not part of the greeting party. It wasn’t so much the man with the warhawk and black smeared under his eyes from ear to ear, but the big fucker wearing half a skull on his face. 

Skullface had blacked out everything not covered by the bone. His jaws and around his eyes meticulously coated in opaque layers of whatever grease they used. He’d even blackened the bottom of the skull’s eye sockets and added dark lines trailing up and down away from them, like tire-tracks. The sheer menace he projected easily made up for any humanizing aspect the bramble of sun bleached white-blonde curls that framed the skull-mask might have given him. 

Max gave a chest rattling sigh and gestured for them to get on with it, he’d seen weirder.

“I’m Price. This is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.” Chatty took it upon himself to introduce them, pointing to Fetch, Warhawk, and Skullface in turn, “We wanted to ask about what’s going on with the Citadel.”

Max nodded, that’d already been said. Glancing around at the men who were making a very conscious effort to not surround him, Max cleared his throat, “Imperator Furiosa. She- Mmm- She killed the Immortan. She’s uh- She’s running it now.” In truth, there was a whole council system that spanned every rank and job of the Citadel, but Max wasn’t gonna try to explain something he barely understood, and definitely not to a bunch of strangers. 

Understanding nods came from the group, there was a bit of shuffling as they relaxed a little. Skullface hooked a hand into one of Warhawk’s straps, towed the man into his embrace, and dropped his cheekbone against the side of Warhawk’s head. His dark eyes gleaming with easily read possessiveness. If the way Warhawk eagerly sank into Skullface’s grip was anything to go by, it was a mutual sort of thing. Max allowed himself to sit back against the side of his rebuilt Interceptor and take his weight off his bad knee, as it seemed like they weren’t planning on getting violent, but still didn’t holster his gun. He wasn’t trusting them that much. 

“Are they trading?” Surprisingly, it was Fetch that spoke up. The grunt that Max responded with carried no real subtext, but Fetch obligingly elaborated anyway, “Gas Town and Bullet Farm, are they trading with outsiders?” 

So that’s what they were after, Max felt some of the wariness fall out of his bones and nodded, humming agreeingly. There was an open market in each of the cities now, free for anyone to walk in and trade for what they wanted, provided that they weren’t there to cause a ruckus. Causing a problem in the markets was a good way to get dead quick. 

“Noon-time,” He bit out, the sudden drop in tension making him feel uncharacteristically verbose, “Markets.”

More nods from the group, with a thankful cant this time. 

“We’ll have to check it out,” Chatty said with a clap of his hands, “Thank you for that, we’ll be out of your hair now.” 

With no further words exchanged, Chatty climbed into the diver’s seat of their beast while Fetch hopped up to ride shotgun, Warhawk and Skullface going around to clamber into the back. It was all done with a rote kind of efficiency, and Max was watching their dust cloud disappear into the haze of the horizon within the minute. 

If it wasn’t for the tracks they’d left behind, Max might have thought the entire encounter was a very weird hallucination. With a slightly disbelieving shake of his head, Max went about throwing all his stuff back into the Interceptor, set on finding somewhere safer to camp.

Who just pulls over and asks for directions in the wastelands?

Thank You For Reading!

The thing that the 141 are driving around is the Australian 'Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle'. I imagine that they "commandeered" it when things started to go to hell.

Also, look! I drew on Soap's war paint, I'm honestly super proud of how it turned out.

Yes, Ghost did eventually admit defeat to the heat and forgo the full-face black balaclava, but he's still not showing off the goods. Though, being able to make out with Soap whenever he wants now is an upside.

No, Max never told them his name.

About the empty, but maintained, turret-stand: They got sick of A-People trying to steal the turret gun, and B-Constantly cleaning the sand out of it. It's kept inside the transport until they need it.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[valhelos]

It's Fowlfest AU Day. And I thought I could yap about my Mad Max AU.

For convenience humans would know about fairies and fairies are closer to human sizes in this AU. In the normal Mad Max AU way the Earth would be an apocalyptic wasteland, the earth is spoiled and magic has become almost nonexistent even to fairies. Between the loss of magic and the radiation fairies are suffering. Holly, her mother and Vinyáya would be part of the Many Mothers, protecting one of the last magical ritual sites; the Green Place.

Out in the wasteland Opal would be gathering power both by hoarding magic and technology. She would've long since forced Foaly to help her in her quest to become the queen of this irradiated Earth. Their paths would eventually cross when one of Opal's scouting parties would manage to capture Holly and her mother, after Coral got injured near one of Opal's waste dumping sites.

Opal would become obsessed with finding the magical site the many mothers are protecting after learning Holly and Coral still have their magic. And after Coral dies from her injuries Opal keeps Holly as her captive slowly draining her of her magic one spark at a time hoping to wring out the location of the Green Place. During her years as a captive Holly befriends Foaly as her hatred towards Opal festers.

Eventually Opal's growing gang would come across the Citadel that is being led by Kronski and his extinctionists, holding court to determine who is useful enough for them to live and who will die for their survival.

[badbcatha]

[copiousloverofcopia]

Whoops my hand slipped.....

coming soon!

[tortoise-n33ds-purpose]

What if... Little Furiosa got lost on her way back to the Green Place?

[drunkintergalacticemotions]

Help Me Decide Which Fic to Work On

Hazbin Hotel Ranchers AU: Tango and Jimmy both die in a car accident, Tango wakes up in hell during the angel extermination without Jimmy. While searching for his husband he makes friends, allies, enemies, and even encounters some people from his past he never thought he'd see again.

I have the second chapter started, and a chapter far down the line written, so 1.5 chapters total written.

He’s utterly alone, and he has no idea where he is. Not a single person occupies the street with him, and the location is completely and wholly unfamiliar to him. And everything is bathed in the bright red light.  Looking up, he sees black clouds dotting the sky, and tiny figures flying around them. More of them emerge from a bright yellow circle in the sky. The sun?  “Hello?” he calls out, because what else is he going to do? He just died, and woke up on the sidewalk of a burning street, with a bright red sky above him- Oh. Oh fuck. He just died. He stumbles, because he doubts heaven has red skies. He’s in hell.

Mad Max desert duo AU: Grian has been surviving, alone in the wastelands nearly his entire life. Scar is determined to be friends. Buckle up everyone, this one's a tragedy.

The first chapter for this one is started

This close, he can see the definition in the man’s muscles, the bulk to his body, the scars running along his arm and face. Some small, some looking big enough to kill. This isn’t a man who goes hungry, this isn’t a man unused to a fight. This is a man who isn’t just surviving the wasteland, but thriving in it.  Grian gives a thunderous cry, pouring all his fury into it, in the desperate hope to scare the man away. To tell him I will not go down without a fight. I will not go quietly. I will not be an easy kill.  Still the man pulls him ever closer. This near, he can see the easy smile adorning his face.

From inspired horror AU feat just about everyone: Don't know what From is? don't worry about it, I'm taking loose inspiration. Our cast of characters are trapped in a town they can't leave, where human looking supernatural monsters come out at night to torture and kill anyone they catch out after dark. Follows a lot of different characters across life series, hermitcraft, and empires. Will feature lots of character death

I have two chapters fully written for this one, a third started, and another chapter further down the line started

“SHUBBLE!” he despairs, his voice cracking at the rough usage.  It’s only because he’s scanning the tree line so intently that he spots it so immediately. One lone girl, walking calmly towards him, a wide smile on her face.  Had it been darker, or if Oli were a fool, he might have fallen for it. Instead, he takes two quick steps backwards into the house, and slums the back door shut. Locks it firmly. Runs to the front door.  Nobody stands in his way this time, hugging the walls, tears in their eyes. Katherine’s loud sobs fill the silence. Oli tramples through.  “Pearl!” he shouts, right as she slams the front door shut.  “I saw,” she says, throwing the lock shut. She hangs her head, facing the door rather than the crowds behind her. 

Westworld flower husbands AU: this says flower husbands but really it follows a lot of characters. A western-themed park populated by human looking androids for guests to come in and do as they please. Often horrible things. Some of the androids are becoming more aware. Hermitcraft characters as the park operators, empires as the androids, cameos of DSMP characters as the guests. Chapters alternate between the hermitcraft and the empires characters.

I have two chapters for this fully written, and a third started.

He knows who this must be, and he knows why he must be here, still he asks with gritted teeth “who do you think you are, riding in on a dead man’s stolen horse?”  The man beneath the blanket grins, “Why, I imagine I might be the man who killed him!”  And he raises his arms, throwing off his blanket with a flourish, unveiling Joel the bandit leader, murderer of the last sheriff, terror of the hills.  “You-!” he reaches for his holster, only for his heart to sink as he comes up empty handed.  He left it in the office. Joel laughs, a loud ugly thing, “Looks like I’m two for two lads!” he shouts, bringing up his own pistol, and shooting Jimmy square in the chest.

SBI the Host AU: fair warning, this one is Wilbur centric. Started it before he got outed as an abuser, and obviously stopped working on it in the mean time, but I suppose I'd like to gauge interest now that it's been a little while. Alien invasion/invasion of the body snatchers, that creeping sensation where you know something is off but you don't know what.

I have the first chapter for this written, and the second started.

Wilbur opens the front door to his younger brother screaming “I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!”  Wilbur reminds himself that Tommy is thirteen, and thirteen year olds feel things very strongly; especially indignance and injustice. It’s very easy to believe the entire world’s against you when you’re thirteen years old.  “Tommy,” his father’s voice floats down from the living room, exhaustion and anger all in one, “Sometimes your actions have consequences. This is one of those times. If you hadn’t lied to me-”  Tommy gives a veritable scream of fury before stomping footsteps mark his path upstairs, and the slamming of his bedroom door marks his retreat. Tommy had always been a loud boy; a loud baby, a loud toddler, and now a loud teenager entering puberty with all the subtlety of a freight train. 

Sequel to The Strange Card: What it says on the tin, the sequel to my TCG AU posted this summer. Follow Jimmy as he enters his first tournament, though things are not as easy as he'd hope!

I have the first chapter for this one started

“Yeesh, you guys look rough.” A familiar voice answers, and Jimmy perks up immediately.  “Tango!” he exclaims, nearly vaulting the counter to greet him properly.  Tango has, thankfully, put away his cargo pants in lieu of cargo shorts due to the heat wave, though he had not relinquished the combat boots nor punk vest.  “Why is it hotter inside than out there?” he asks, thumbing the front door. There are visible heat waves coming off the concrete parking lot.  Martyn slams his face into the counter “I don’t know!” He moans. “The A.C. isn’t broken, the thermostat is set to go as cool as it can, and yet!” he waves his arms around him at the sweating customers and dying staff. 

If any of you care enough to rig, be my guest. Also I cannot promise to abide by the results of this poll but I am keen to see which of these intrigues people the most

[stevecoven]

Mad Max Sturphy AU though 🏍️⚙️💀

[themummersfolly]

Untitled Gastown AU, ch 1

Re: this post that I decided to go ahead and flesh out.

The Octoboss had been the last of the Horde to enter Gastown. While Dementus interrogated the Guardian of Gastown and his men subdued what little resistance they met, he sat on his bike just inside the gate, fuming, not yet ready to face his own crew.

They’d taken Gastown around mid-morning. Before noon, a bike pulled away from the Guardian’s watch tower and made for the gate: Big Jilly, with Smeg riding backpack. He thought they might summon him to Dementus, to a council of war to determine their next step, and if that was the case he had a piece of his mind to send them packing with. But his retort died stillborn. Big Jilly sped past him out the wide-open gates, Smeg waving to him as if oblivious to the tension. Ten minutes later a tussle broke out at the foot of the tower, and he looked up to see Dementus and the other underbosses dragging something or someone toward the trailer bikes. The sight of the man reignited the rage in his chest; he kicked his bike to life and rolled over to them. Dementus was lifting the kid he insisted on hauling everywhere into his chariot. He’d taken off her muzzle; he must be in the mood for bad decisions today.

The Octoboss dropped his kickstand and jumped off his bike, yanking off his faceplate as he stormed up, ready to have it out here and now.

“Dementus!”

“Hey, there you are! I need you to stay here, I got a job for you.”

“Like you had a job for my Mortifiers?” He grabbed the side of the chariot cab. The kid didn’t flinch, only watched him with those baleful eyes. Dementus acted like he hadn’t heard him.

“We’re going to parley with that big shot in the Citadel. I need you to rig this place up, all the dynamite you got, ready to make the biggest boom this place has ever heard. Rizzdale! Give him the thingy!”

Rizzdale Pell hurried over from his bike and shoved something into the Octoboss’s hands. It was a number pad, trailing wires, with a small, battered screen at the top.

“This here’s a transpondifier,” he told him. “We’ve got the other one. We’ll send you a message from the Citadel if we need you to blow this place sky-high. If the sun goes down and we’re not back, blow it up anyway.”

The Octoboss stared at the contraption. It looked like it was supposed to be attached to a power source. He looked up at the old man they’d dragged out: gagged and strapped to a dolly, his eyes bulged with terror. He turned back to Dementus.

“You and I need to talk.”

“Not now, not now. We really got ‘em by the balls! Daddy Dementus is bringing home the bacon!”

He wheeled the chariot, and the whole motorcade roared out the gates and down the road. The Octoboss stood, stunned and furious, in his wake. From the corner of his eye he noticed a handful of his surviving men gathered around.

“I guess we’ll get started on the explosives.”

“Yeah,” he managed. Not wanting to lash out at his lieutenant, he stalked back to his bike.

Like what I'm doing? Buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/themummersfolly

[oceantornadoo]

mad max: the 141 (price x f!reader)

ch 3: johnny's home

canon-typical violence, sexual violence is referenced (but will not happen), general misogyny. the 141 are the good guys, just a bit rough around the edges

series masterlist (also has more world building info)

--

you screamed.

john woke with a start, forcing you behind him as he searched for any danger. ghost and gaz burst into the room, guns at the ready. you were shaking uncontrollably, fear coursing through your body and tightening around your throat. and suddenly, ghost, that hulk of a man who had given you grunts and gruff words, started laughing.

it was a gravelly sound, like a dirt bike over desert sand. gaz joined in, his laughter like the flow of gasoline, rich but tainted. the absolute gall of them. there had been a man, you’d seen him! he was sitting there in the corner, shaking with laughter himself while john’s grip on your waist loosened. john reached for the lightbulb near the wall, flooding the room with light.

“steamin’ jesus, lass, almos’ gave me a heart attack.” the man in the red mask huffed out in between laughs. his accent was unfamiliar to you, almost foreign. “soap, it’s good to see you.” gaz was patting him on the back while ghost shook his head, the shock of the scene still wearing off. john was still holding you, you realized, still pressing your front to his back. but now, his harsh grip was gone and replaced with a warm touch. he rubbed circles into the thin fabric of your shift, inherently calming you down. “darlin’.” john was moving you out from behind him, the tension in his shoulders releasing softly. “this is soap.” he tried to coax you towards soap, who was still catching up with ghost and gaz, but your feet stayed firmly planted. “i thought…i thought he was dead.”

“‘m alive and well. had some other business.” soap acknowledged your question. gaz made another comment under his breath and the group laughed again. you could see the day’s tension finally fading away. you’d thought the group was just harsh, beaten down by the desert sun like every other man in the wasteland, but it was clear they were just worried about soap’s business, whatever that was. john, sensing your refusal to move, left you standing as he made his way over to his men. they all straightened their back almost imperceptibly, giving him a true captain’s respect. he gave soap a couple pats to the back, almost ensuring he was truly here, and the group relaxed again.

“sorry fer scarin’ her, captain. jus’ wanted a look at the wee lass.” john looked back at you, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress as you recovered from your previous fright. “and?” soap grinned. “aye, she’s a bonnie one. you sharin’?” that was the wrong question to ask. john’s face became a mask, hard as desert stone. “no. there will be no sharing.” john looked each of his men in the eyes, making his point clear. a course of whispered “yes, sirs” reached his ear, their deference easily earned. “go’on now, back to bed. long trip in the morning. good to see you, soap.” the men nodded, taking their leave, still huddled together and shooting you glances as they left.

you were already back in the bedroll, front facing the wall as you gave john your back. he turned off the light, then climbed in, refusing to give you the space that you clearly desired. “you mad at me, sweetheart?” his large hand traveled over your hip to the bottom of your stomach, pulling you in closer to him. you shook your head, unsure why the scene had affected you so. you were practically their prisoner, yet you were mad they didn’t tell you about soap? it didn’t make sense. you were obviously suffering some delusions from being surrounded by such an oasis.

john nosed at your neck as he pulled your ass against his crotch, his body all hard against yours. “say it.” it sounded like an order, but it could have been a plea in the way he said it, his voice low in the dark. “you’re not my captain, you can’t order me around.” he chuckled behind you, the sound warming your core like the sun, making you squirm in his arms. “that’s it, hm? mad your captain didn’t clue you in?” he was almost taunting you now, that hand traveling from your stomach to the underside of your breasts. his knuckle brushed the underside of your tits so lightly, you almost thought it was a dream. “well, you lied to me too, so we’re even.” you turned around quickly, all fire now. “what are you talking about?” he gave you a small smirk, beard shifting with the movement. “you’ve been with men before.”

your jaw dropped. “i’m a virgin.” he clucked his tongue at that. “sure you are love, but you’ve been with men before. you’re too comfortable with me for that to be false.” you huffed, turning back to your original position. “so, what.” his arm snaked back around you again, that hand inching up until he was massaging your tits, like he had the right. “jus’ like to have all the facts, love.” he inched his thigh between both of yours, the meat of it pressing against your core. you bit back a moan as you tried not to hump him, willing your body to calm down. you blamed it on the adrenaline of the night’s earlier events. “i’m not going to let you fuck me.” he laughed at the sound of a curse word leaving your lips, your princess facade abandoned. “no, you’ll be begging me for it. now go-“, he pushed his thigh harder against you, leg hair providing delicious friction against your clothed clit, “to sleep.” and under your captain’s orders, you slept.

—

i’m grasping around for a plot but i just keep coming up with smutty interactions😔

[pekoehoneyncream]

No one asked for it, but here's the full size of Soap with his war paint on.

It's from my Call of Duty/Mad Max Crossover.

I'll have you know that Soap started out doing perfectly reasonable swipes of eye black on his cheekbones, just to keep the glare out of his eyes. Those baby blues did not fare well against the apocalyptic Australian sun.

But after a few times he applied it in a rush and wound up with it smeared half way across his face, it inevitably evolved into what it is today.

[valhelos]

More Mad Max AU This time with the obligatory Mad Max: Fury Road cover redraw.

[mousyatlas]

hey, all. ily. thank you for being patient while i wrap up some deadline material and work on my space opera. i'm starting a new part-time job this week but oasis update will be super soon.

[jamscandraw]

WAR BOY STEVE (he gets better and lets his hair grow )

I don't even know if that's a thing War Boys can do, but I believe in him!! (I also really wanna make him a Praetorian, he deserves a cool jacket and a sick vehicle)

[tortoise-n33ds-purpose]

Mad Max 1979 + Furiosa 2024 Crossover

[demon-slayer-kaiden]

Calling it good enough!

Anyway here are the starting thoughts for Kaiden’s Mad Max Au

Naomi and Kaiden escaped from their old home after it had come under attack by a warlord, they stumbled upon the Green Place and were taken in by the Vuvalini. Kaiden grew up learning their ways and enjoying the peace and safety that was offered.

At some point she becomes pregnant and has Yuu, right as the place her and her mother called home began to die and become toxic. Leaving with the others to wander once it was no longer habitable.

Yuu’s upbringing has thrown a wrench into Kaiden and Naomi’s relationship. They want different things for her: Kaiden wanting her daughter to have as much of a childhood as possible and Naomi wanting her granddaughter to start learning how to survive in the harsh world they live in.

The three live a semi-nomadic life style, getting around the wasteland on modded motorbikes. They don’t want to stay in spot for too long and Kaiden does the majority of the scavenging and scouting.