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sukunasun · 3 months ago

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Thinking about Geto who would have never thought he likes to be called daddy. Outside of being a real parent ofc. It’s unexpected. As Reader tries to work with the recently adopted twins to ease their trauma and get them ready for school via play therapy, they attach themselves to her easily, hungry for a maternal figure in their life. Whenever Geto sits in the waiting area for the session to end, Mimiko and Nanako blast out the door and Reader somehow always refer to him as daddy in their presence. “Oh, look, daddy is ready to pick you up”, “Go, tell daddy how good you two were”, “Come on, show these drawings to daddy”. And it has him in a chokehold. The word just sounds so good from her mouth. So good he might try to rizz her up. And he couldn’t care less about that it’s unprofessional for reader to fuck a client’s parent. For him it’s a challenge. A challenge to hear that word again. Just for him and nobody else.

why it sounds so good has less to do with sex but necessity. the assurance that he—single father of two with no experience, no status, and not a dime to his name—is a protector, capable and conscious of his life. no longer the smart-talking teen or charismatic cult leader with plans for world domination.

he thinks it shouldn't feel this good to be relied upon when he's barely thirty and buckles under pressure to make ends meet. three part-time jobs and it's still not enough. the stress of juggling priorities and responsibilities is immense. his wants and needs set aside. which is probably why his self-esteem tanked and he constantly feels like a failure. making mistakes, trying again, learning and re-learning the basics. how to cook, how to clean is more important. ultimately, 'how to parent' isn't a step-by-step process.

despite that, you don't see him differently. in fact, you admire him for it. "it can't be easy but you're doing a great job, the girls love you so much," you say, with clear eyes and unwavering affirmation—then asking his daughters in a fond and friendly tone—"isn't daddy the best?"

there are so many meanings to a word and he's aware you're only referring to him as the father of his children because making that distinction is important. it helps the girls get accustomed to seeing him as a parent, not just the person who's saved them. he won't jump to conclusions. he respects you after all. sweet sing-song voice and a heart of gold are just a bonus, you've helped his girls, you've helped him.

still, the novelty doesn't fade, and neither does the sentiment. the pride that blooms when he hears it ringing in his ears, resounding in his chest. he's daddy. geto rarely seeks approval. only compliance, obedience, and maybe servitude on a rare occasion...but praise and recognition? it's too hard to pass up when it's from you.

although, the sexual connotation lingers. curse his dirty mind filled with filthy intentions. he'd only just gotten the hang of keeping his composure around you, carrying conversations with ease while pushing those obscene thoughts away. they beg for his attention as much as your instructions do, 'remember this and that...' gets lost while pulling himself together before you catch on. eye contact and all smiles as he memorizes your face.

he's going to need it later. or whenever he requires a little help. his imagination works wonders but he's also a stickler for accuracy. your lab coat hides modest sweaters and long skirts, maybe a loose-fitting t-shirt when you and the girls play outside. he can't picture your figure underneath when nothing is revealing. not the heft and weight of perky bosoms and a full ass, the dip and curve of a waistline, part of him—all of him—hopes he'd be the only one who gets to pry those layers off you, unveiling that secret side.

your glasses give it away, shielding the same lewd thoughts of your own. he notices your wandering eyes coveting his body, feels your rapid heartbeat on the side of his arm when you're pressed close. he's well aware of the effect he has on most women, but especially for someone like you who tries so hard to resist.

as weeks went by, his plans to tempt you were coming closer to reaching fruition. "daddy talks about you a lot," nanako whispers as she lets you in on a secret and mimiko nods in agreement, her voice lowered too, "mhm, daddy said you're very smart and pretty."

they wouldn't lie about him, so you smile and take their word for it. falling for giggling faces hidden behind tiny hands. you reply, "that's so nice of him, please do thank him for me," for confidentiality's sake, because you wouldn't want geto getting embarrassed.

besides, there are rules on keeping them at a distance, they aren't your only clients, growing attached would make things difficult and you're starting to see the effects of it as the days go by. for all that talk about 'being professional' you spend too much time thinking about their daddy outside of these walls.

"you shouldn't give him preferential treatment..." says the receptionist, not hiding her cheshire cat grin. she's been watching you like a hawk since he walked in and made an appointment—it wasn't his body, or his face that caught your eye, both beautiful and modelled after a dream but once the shock has set in and you observed him closely, the scene has stuck with you since. his daughters are twins, both dressed well for the weather and there are no signs of distress in their expressions. they look at him like he's their favourite person. wide, shining eyes and a giddy-ness in their steps. he keeps them close to him, "no wandering around, let's not get lost," he said, sounding assertive but gentle at the same time. they nod, holding onto his pant leg on each side. the way his posture straightened tall, his expression serious as he filled out forms, requiring no assistance should you add, with the details when often most don't even remember birth dates or blood types.

most do the bare minimum but he stood out then in a suit, "i thought it was important to make a good first impression," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. it's hardly a formal occasion but the thought is appreciated when he looks so stunningly handsome. the other single mothers who come by seem to think so too. some bring him leftover bentos and homemade curry. you always thought they'd charm him well enough given that he's single—a fact you're surprisingly way too relieved about—but he remains happy and perfectly content as a bachelor.

the receptionist continues, pointing out these tiny changes you make to your routine—fixing your hair, using a new perfume, your voice pitches higher around him, repeatedly checking your reflection in your compact before his arrival—it's just as evident to you, the woman who's always been unbothered with keeping up appearances. "aw...does someone have a crush on daddy?" she pouts childishly.

"i like all my clients equally," you correct her, "and i don't see him that way. if anything, i just think he's a great parent is all. he's always on time for sessions and applies what we've learned. he's shown exceptional effort."

she wiggles her brows suggestively, "i bet he's exceptional in other ways too...if you know what i mean." ugh. just when you think it couldn't get worse.

"that's none of our business and we shouldn't be discussing this, it's very inappropriate," you know better than to jeopardize your position. you've worked hard for this, spent weeks gaining the trust of two very sweet and adorable girls, it's not worth considering an illicit affair. yes, an affair, because that's all it'll ever be when he's got too much on his plate.

"tsk, you're no fun," she swats you and your hardened face away, deciding then to finally get back to work, but not before she gets the last word in, sighing longingly, "i wonder if he'll ever marry..."

you admittedly do too. fantasizing about being his wife has become a habit and you like to think he'd make room for you, raising the girls together. there wouldn't want for anything because he gets shit done. so responsible and decisive. it's all about taking the initiative, unlike all the other lacklustre men you've dated before. he'll make plans and treat you to nice things. no excuses, no need to soothe bruised egos. it would be nice to be taken care of for once. so much so that it would be easy to relinquish control. all you need is a taste of submission.

geto isn't afraid of a challenge. not even if you play hard to get. how you'd like to step on his toes, a dominating figure who puts you in your place, you wouldn't make it easy for him when he doesn't cower at the sight of a well-made woman.

that night, you barely make it pass your door before your clothes come off. biting your lip and holding back a moan, feeling a heat rise in your belly. tonight isn't about getting it over with but to last as long as possible. or at least until you get to the good part without coming all over your fingers—imagining his weight pressing down onto you. legs folded up and resting upon broad, sturdy shoulders. feet lifted with no purchase, you can't do anything but take it as he thrusts slow and steady, feeling your tight walls clamp down. milking him for everything he's got.

your fingers slip in and the stretch barely measures up to the real thing as you mimic every drag and pull of his cock. you don't worry about size or shape because it belongs to him. how often you've thought about the weight of it on your tongue, dripping precum down your fist. you'd strip him out of his lame harem pants, his pressed trousers, those god-forsaken gym shorts that drive you crazy. taking him down your throat when it's hot out and he's just finished one of his many night shifts. you heard he's working at a restaurant now. oh he'd smell like grease and noodles but you couldn't care less. your mouth begs to suck him off. after all, it's the least you could do when daddy works so hard.

"shh, you wouldn't want the girls waking up," he'd warn, but doing just the opposite to keep you quiet. it makes your legs shake, craving it all the more. i'm sorry daddy, lies on tip of your tongue, you whisper it out into an empty bedroom. save for the sounds of the squelching, slippery mess you make.

he's vocal but not dramatic, he doesn't rush into things, and takes his time to talk you through it. "i know it feels good, i've got you, i'll make my baby come," his baby, you love the sound of it. his voice wraps around you like a cocoon. so secure you could let go, give in to him, submit. he'd tend to your pleasure more than his own. let him take charge, let him make full use of your pussy like he owns it. maybe he'll punish you if you disobey.

glasses askew, hair frazzled, resolve in shambles. your tears spill, they burn your cheeks. i can't, i shouldn't, you chant. it doesn't matter that his cock stretches you out deliciously, or that he sneaks a hand to wrap around your neck, you can't let this man make you lose all your inhibitions and better judgement. your mind races, wet and sticky fingers pumping faster, there's a ringing in your ears and you hear your own breaths huffing out, your pussy clenches and for a second, it feels like your orgasm might slip from you the more you hold back.

how real he appears in your mind's eye, "daddy, daddy, daddy please," you whine, cry, scream. a familiar wave builds and wrings a knot in your stomach, your clit throbs and your fingers jam themselves against that spot deep inside, wishing it was him prodding you with vigor. you're so close you think of his broad back, his sweaty neck, his veiny arms around you so tight. holding you hostage as he gently coaxes you towards the edge. "that's it," he groans and you swear you hear it above you— "come for daddy," and you're crumbling and coming undone at the seams, not the least bit sated or sure of facing him again the next morning.

#ask #anon #sunpiece #saturated #geto suguru #just a short one #jjk smut #jjk hcs #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader

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noxturnalnymph · 9 months ago

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Devotion 🖤 I. Stronger Together (Ch 2)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

I. Stronger Together

CH 2 (5k) You follow Tess to a colonial style house one block away from the main town square. It’s not as tall as the church on the other side of the park, but its three stories still tower over the smaller structures around it. You realize it's close enough that you could see the house from the clinic, and think about all of the still-hot meals Joel has been bringing you three times a day.

The house has an open yard on one side and a porch wrapping around one half front to back. Tess leads you inside and gives you a brief tour. The first floor has a large dining room at the front and a kitchen in the back; a large sitting room located on the opposite side of the home with Joel’s office behind a closed door beyond. Tess shows you your small room upstairs, right next to the bathroom, crowded even with only two furnishings; a single bed and a nightstand.

Three shirts hang from the single window’s curtain rod and she tells you that the room and the clothes are yours and to let her know if you need anything else. When you make your way back downstairs with her she begins to introduce you to the other women who live there. You’re not sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t to find Joel living in a house full of women.

You hate the way it makes you feel. It’s a cold hand grasping at your insides, clutching them hot and tight yet freezing them solid at the same time. It makes you sick. You feel a stinging at your eyes and blink rapidly, fighting the urge you have to cry at every new introduction. There are two women in the kitchen preparing dinner, one in the living room mending a broken bowstring, and one working in the back garden. And Tess.

Tess is the only name you can remember. Your head is swirling, your heartbeat is in your ears, and you’re struggling against the sick feeling in your stomach. You’re not even sure you heard all of their names. As if you could even remember them, there were too many to even remember. Had he ever mentioned he lived with five fucking women before? You’re pretty sure you would have remembered that.

Tess had spent the morning moving her housemates around to clear the room at the top of the stairs that Joel said you could have. She knew Bianca wouldn’t be comfortable sharing a bed, so she moved her up to the attic, switching one of the occupants there to share a double bed in the room across from her own. They all moved around expeditiously and with no complaint. The women she shared her home with were easy going, but she still didn’t appreciate Joel dropping this work in her lap last minute.

Tess excuses herself and leaves you with the two women in the kitchen, the one from the garden – whose name, ironically, is Rosie – joining you later. You work beside them, eager to lose yourself in activity and stop your mind from racing. You’ve definitely lost your ability to small-talk, but the women are friendly and seem happy to meet you. The one Rosie calls Bianca is timid and silent, but the other two, Rosie and the other one doing most of the cooking, talk boisterously and animatedly to each other as you work.They excitedly tell you about the community. This is your first time hearing details about where you’ve been living for the past two weeks and you’re shocked to hear that the leader of the whole place is Joel.

Joel – who has been walking over three hot meals a day. Joel – who has been reading stories to you morning, noon, and night. Joel – who has been following you around the park asking you inane questions. Joel – who asked you to move in with him. That Joel.

He definitely didn’t mention that he was the leader of the whole fuckin’ community. You would have remembered that too. They tell you that he brings people into the community if they need shelter and they can follow the rules. The rules seem simple; develop a strong and cohesive community, guard and keep your territory, and work collectively to gather and store resources.

You like the way the women talk about the community they call The Valley. They seem cared for and safe, and that’s also how you’ve felt since you’ve been here. Even though your plan has been to leave when you’ve fully healed, you’ve somehow allowed yourself to get pretty comfortable here. You’ve been distracted by Joel’s daily visits, you’ve been getting lost in the stories he reads to you, letting your mind wander from the harsh realities of this world.

The reality is that society collapsed and all people want to do now is survive, by any means necessary. People have only ever used other people, they take. They did that before the outbreak, but now it’s even worse. You’ve been used. You’ve been taken from. But even though it seems like Joel failed to tell you some things, he’s never taken anything from you. In fact, Joel has been very giving.

He and his patrol killed the clicker about to attack you, saving your life. He brought you into his town and had the doctor give you medical care, even after you threatened them with scissors. He’s been bringing you food, keeping you company, reading those books to you, and helping you gain some of your strength back. Apparently he even gave you his blood after you spilled most of yours down the mountain.

He told you that you were free to leave when you got better. And maybe you will. Maybe once you’re at full-strength you’ll feel like moving on. But maybe you should stay here a little longer. You have a room of your own, a warm place to lie your head, you’ve not been this well-fed in years. Maybe this could be a safe place for you, when no place has ever really felt safe before. Maybe Joel could give you that too.

–

You’re still processing the revelations about Joel when he comes out of his office for dinner. You keep your head down, busy helping the women set the dinner table, carrying in the prepared food and drinks. Joel grabs your hand as you walk back into the kitchen, pulling you close to him. You don’t recoil from his touch anymore, as you’ve been making physical contact with him more often.

You’ve touched his arm or shoulder to point out an animal on your walk, he’s taken your hands to help you up and down steps. Unlike he usually does, this time he doesn’t drop your hand immediately, he continues holding it. He asks if you’ve ‘gotten comfortable’. You’re not sure how to tell him that you’re actually a little uncomfortable, given all the new information, without insulting his hospitality.

“Who are these people?” you ask him, looking down at your joined hands, unable to meet his eye.

“They didn’t introduce themselves to you?” he says gruffly, looking over your head. You look up to meet his eyes and he looks genuinely confused.

“Of course they did…”, you let your unfinished sentence linger in the air, hoping he won’t make your pathetic mouth finish it. You feel absolutely ridiculous. You feel one foot tall again. Here you are, at the end of the world, jealous over a man you barely fucking know. Jealous. You. As if you have any right. He squeezes your hand, making your eyes crunch tight in defeat. You have to complete your thought. Out loud. How embarrassing. “Who are they to you? Are you… seeing any of them? Not that it’s my b– business or anything, I just didn’t–”

“Oh, PJ.”

He cups your face in both his hands and the move has you flinching in surprise. He brings his mouth to yours slowly, so slowly that you’re sure you could have stopped it ten times if you wanted to. But you don’t want to. You don’t move a muscle, you’re pretty sure you don’t even breathe. And then his lips are on your lips. Time freezes. The whole world stops turning and it’s just him and you; his mouth on yours and his large warm hands surrounding your face and his nose pressing into your cheek.

After a moment the world starts turning again. You hear the other women continue to move in and out of the kitchen behind you, paying no mind to Joel’s lips on yours, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His hands slip to your shoulders and he places more gentle kisses on your lips, your cheeks, your nose. Joel takes your hand and leads you into the dining room, guiding you to sit in the seat next to his at the head of the table.

The meal is hot and delicious, cheerful conversations drift over the tabletop as everyone eats. Joel sees your wide eyes staring at him the entire time, picking at your food, unable to process the kisses he’d bombarded you with. He’s not sure why he did that, a voice inside him was screaming not to, worried he’d scare you off and you’d be out the door miles away by now.

He kept himself in his office all afternoon, trying unsuccessfully to distract his thoughts from you. When he finally came out and saw you in the kitchen, his kitchen, his home… he couldn’t help himself. You were in his home. He grabbed your hand and pulled you close but he sensed you were upset. Were you jealous?

Sure, he probably should have told you about the other women in his house, but you were just beginning to trust him. He didn’t think he could spin this in a way that you would be comfortable with. He didn’t think he would be able to get you here if he told you the truth. So he didn’t. And when given another opportunity to tell you the truth in the kitchen, he kissed you instead.

It doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. Whatever relationship he had with these other women doesn’t matter as long as you’re here, and you’re here now. You’re in his home. You’re his. He’s going to make you his. It’s all he wants now. You’re all he wants now.

–

You sleep warm in your bed the first night in your new home, but stay up late listening to the gentle creaking of the house. The occupants prove to be sound sleepers, and you find out why when you’re woken up before the sun the next morning. The four women who aren’t Tess rouse you from your sleep and give you a choice of inside or outside chores. You choose outside, hoping the crisp dawn air will help wake you up. It doesn’t.

You spend the day tired but busy doing chores with a woman named Sasha. She was only a teenager when the outbreak started but she has some really great survival skills. Before lunch she takes you to the basement where she teaches you how to assemble shotgun shells. After lunch she walks with you to the nearby creek to do some fishing. Well, she fishes, you keep thinking you have something ‘big on the line’ when actually your hook is just caught on rocks. Joel and Tess spend all day out of the house and when you finally see him again, sitting next to him at dinner, you can barely keep your eyes open.

The following day is easier for you, since you slept early and solid through the night like everyone else. On this day after lunch Joel has been in his office, meeting with a long line of people one or two at a time. Each one shakes his hand as they leave, thanking him for his time. You wonder how many meetings like this he missed while he sat in your room reading to you for the last two weeks. You’re sitting in the adjoining room, doing a terrible job of mending holes in socks - you think they might be Joel’s – when the last person leaves his office.

He looks around the otherwise empty room and then his eyes meet yours. He smiles at you and holds his hand out in an invitation. You can’t help but hesitate. You spent hours every day with him for two weeks and now it’s been days since you’ve been alone with him for even one minute. The nerves bubble up in your stomach and you’re not sure if you want to run towards him or run away from him. You opt for the former, grabbing his hand and letting him pull you into his office.

The door closes behind you and suddenly you’re very aware of how alone with him you are. You’ve been alone with him every day in the clinic, with the door wide open, voices drifting down the hall from the other rooms. This feels different. The air feels charged. You’re suddenly terrified, an ice cold fear washes over your entire body as he bears down on you. He comes toe-to-toe with you as you press your back against the door and look in his eyes.

You look like you’ve been dropped into the lion’s den. He notices your panting breaths. The last time you looked this scared you were pointing a pair of scissors at him. Hey, he coos, careful not to touch you. What’s wrong, he hums, fighting the urge to pull you tight to his chest. You shake your head and stammer, unable to form a sentence. He slowly reaches behind you and twists the doorknob.

Joel pushes the door back open a couple inches, whispering we can leave that open, as he walks to the other side of the small room. He sits down at one end of a large leather couch and points to a stack of books on the table, drawing your attention to it. The books. You’d forgotten about the books. You’d dropped them on a table when you arrived and so much was going on they’d slipped your mind. Your hammering pulse begins to calm as you join him on the couch and inspect the books he’s picked.

You hand him White Fang. It’s shorter than some of the other books in the stack but it was one of your favorites as a child. Not your favorite – you still haven’t seen that one presented to you yet. He takes the small paperback and begins to read you the opening paragraph as you settle your mind and relax your body, curved into the opposite end of the big brown couch.

This is how the following weeks go. Your mornings and early afternoons are filled with chores, working side-by-side with the other women in the house. Your evenings are dominated by sleep, heavy and healing after days filled with hard work. Three times a week you take your turn in the town’s impromptu bath-house, bathing in one of their tubs – previously a horse trough – full of hot water. Twice a week you gather with the rest of the Valley in a communal meeting at the church followed by a large meal, and every Friday entertainment events go on around the town square ranging from sporting events to dances.

But every day, without fail, you get time alone with Joel. He pulls you into his office before, after, or between meetings and reads to you. Sometimes it goes on for hours and sometimes he can only give you twenty minutes. But he gives you that time every day. You don’t see him giving that time to anyone else in the house, not even Tess, and so your initial feelings of jealousy fade away.

The only thing you fight now is your own mind. You’ve been with men before, you’ve been in relationships before. You’re not a virgin and you’re not a prude. But you’ve also been hurt by men before. Too many men and more times than you care to recall. You don’t think Joel would hurt you like that. You don’t think Joel would hurt you at all. But then again, you don’t remember thinking most of the other men would hurt you either, until they did. You’ve learned not to trust.

–

The second time Joel kissed you was days after the first, when he finished White Fang. Just a gentle kiss on your lips as you left his office. The next day he repeated the motion and then it became an everyday occurrence. Shortly after, it became a habit to kiss him as you entered his office. You would casually peck his lips as you passed by him at the doorway. He would close the door, save for the last few inches, and join you on the couch.

What started as a sprinkle quickly turned into a storm. You’re still too scared to ask him to close the door all the way behind you but you can’t get enough of him when you’re alone in that room together. What began on opposite sides of the couch quickly changes to you practically sitting in his lap as he reads to you. His hands find yours, or rest on your knees, or wrap around you and pull you to his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. You start to feel safe.

You don’t even pick the books anymore, he just grabs a paperback off the shelves behind him – the selection lately has been John Grisham. They’re taking a lot longer to get through too, since he’s constantly stopping to talk to you and flirt with you and ask you questions. He sneaks a lot of kisses in between chapters too, but he’s pretty sure you like it.

He thinks you also like the way he finds your hand underneath the dinner table each night, always meeting his eyes with a smile. In the mornings, he meets you in the hallway outside the bathroom and he kisses your cheek, smelling your sleep-mussed hair, but avoiding pressing his ever-present morning erection into you. He knows you’re still skittish and he doesn’t want to push you. He knows you just barely trust him and he won’t do anything to endanger that. He doesn’t want to give you a reason to pull away from him.

Joel’s reading A Time to Kill, trying to push through a particularly difficult description of the attack and assault on Carl Lee Hailey’s young daughter, when he sees you getting antsy beside him. He stops to look over at you and sees a familiar look in your eye.You look like you’re uncomfortable, your eyes glazing over and your body becoming twitchy and restless.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks quietly, his hand softly stroking the leg you have in his lap.

“When was your birthday?” you ask, in an attempt to change the subject.

“M– My birthday?” You’re not making eye contact, you look distracted, miles away.

“Yeah. When you told me how old you were, you said you just turned it. When was your birthday?”

“Yeah I just had my birthday in September.”

You finally look at him, your brows stitching together. “Isn’t it October now?”

“Yes,” he waits for this line of questioning to make sense. Then he realizes maybe it won’t make sense. Maybe you’re just craving a distraction.

“Did I know you when it was your birthday?”

“Yes,” he rubs your leg more, “You were at the clinic.”

“When?”

“Do you remember a night when I brought you an apple dessert?”

“You–”, your eyes move around the room, “Yes, I remember. That was your birthday?” He nods. You’re not looking at him, but he knows you can see him nodding in your peripheral vision. “I wasn’t very nice to you that day,” you say, suddenly sounding sad.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“Why did you spend all that time with me when I wasn’t nice to you and it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t wanna be anywhere else, PJ.” You close your eyes tight, letting the silence hang between you.

“Do you think Jake gets Carl Lee off for the murders?” You change the subject again, asking him to spoil the ending of the book for you.

“Yeah, I think he does,” he answers, and you take a deep breath.

“That’s good,” you say, as you reach forward and slip the book gently out of his fingers, returning it to the shelf behind him.

You lay your head in his lap and spend the rest of your time together that afternoon with his fingers carding through your short hair, comforting you. He hopes you know he meant what he said. He knew it then as he knows it now. There isn’t anywhere else he’d rather be than with you, birthday or not.

–

As the end of October arrives, it signals that you’ve been living in Joel’s house for a month. The past month, in addition to the two weeks previous to that at the clinic, have your side completely healed. All the physical work you do around the homestead has helped you gain your strength back and then some. You’re most definitely at ‘a hundred percent’. You would be physically okay to leave at any time, and yet, leaving is the furthest thing from your mind.

Joel is on your mind. All the time. The way he holds your hands, the way he pushes his nose to yours and makes you laugh, the way he kisses your lips, your hands,, your forehead, and your neck. The way he looks at you. The way he looks at you. It’s equal parts exciting and terrifying. And the way he makes you feel is the same. You want him so badly. You don’t know if you can trust him. You don’t even know if you can trust yourself.

You long for that office door to click shut, to be completely alone with him. You want to feel his arms wrap around you, you want to feel his hands roam along your body, you want to feel his lips on your skin. You want to feel him everywhere. The thought of it sends jolts of electricity through you. The thought of him makes you wet. You’re sure that if that door latched you would be all over him like a rabid animal.

But the thought of that kind of intimacy is deliriously intimidating. You think of the first man who touched you like that. Too young, you were too young to be touched there. It frightened you. You lied still like a scared rabbit, hoping he would think you were asleep and stop. But he didn’t stop. You think about the last man who touched you like that. It wasn’t even that long ago, with dirty rough hands and a burning touch. He told you in your ear that you liked it, but all you remember is feeling pain.

That’s the fear that grips you out of nowhere, that keeps you frozen still and awkward when Joel’s hands roam too far over your body, that keeps you from fulfilling any one of your fantasies of having him naked on top of you. You still have trouble trusting him completely. What if he uses you and then discards you like the others did? What if he hurts you, causes you pain in your body and your heart and your soul?

One night he pulls you out onto the front porch and kisses you against the house, the chill of night giving visible life to your hot breaths, nothing but the din of crickets in the background. You hear him say so beautiful as he drags his cheek against yours, lightly scratching you with his facial hair. Your body reacts before you can reason with yourself, you push him away from you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Don’t call you what?” His arms are still holding your hips, the crease between his eyes deep as he looks across your face.

“Beautiful,” you say quietly, the cover of darkness not giving you any courage. “D- Don’t call me that.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Yeah, cause I’m not.” You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I might be a lot of things but I’m not beautiful, so when you say it to me, it feels like I’m hearing a lie. And I don’t want you to lie to me.”

He wraps his arms around you tight, pulling you back together, his chest warm against yours. He rests his head on your shoulder and his hot breath fans across your neck. He places gentle kisses there while he whispers I won’t lie to you into your skin repeatedly. He thinks of the half-truths he’s already told you and decides that they don’t count. The things he’s done in the past don’t count. All that counts is the man he is going forward, the man he is with you.

–

The next night you’re on cleaning duty with Bianca and you’re both in the kitchen after dinner washing up from the meal. You think you like her the best out of everyone here. Not just because she’s sweet, which she is, but because she’s very quiet. She barely says five words all day and when you’re in her company you can just relax. You can let your mind wander. You can get lost in your thoughts of Joel.

Tonight she doesn’t feel good and you’re not sure how to help her. You tried saying something to Tess earlier but she told you that Bianca could come to her if she needed to talk. Well Bianca doesn’t really talk, so you’re not sure what to do. Joel walks in the kitchen and smiles at you, immediately noticing your look of concern. He takes a quick look at Bianca and sends her to bed, telling her that he’ll help you finish your chores.

You know he’s a kind person but you feel like part of the reason why he sent her upstairs was so he could put his hands on you and kiss you, which he does nearly every moment you’re alone. But not this time. This time he stands by your side as Bianca was, taking his task seriously, helping you to scrub and dry the day’s dishes.

You break the silence and tell him that you always hated having to do the dishes as a kid, how it kept you from the other things you wanted to do after dinner. He asks if you still hate it and you tell him no. You tell him that since there’s no TV shows to watch, no mall to go to, and no friends to call, you’re pretty content with washing some dishes. He chuckles and says his daughter used to hate washing dishes too.

Daughter?

“You had a daughter?”

His hands still their movement. He didn’t mean to let that slip. Shit. Fuck. Sarah flashed into his mind and his guard is so low around you, it just came out. Yeah, he nods, resuming his scrubbing. He doesn’t want to say anything else. He doesn’t want these memories to come rushing in like a tsunami and drown him.

“Her name was Sarah. She uh….” he begins, dreading this conversation.

He feels your soapy hand cover his under the water. You grab his fingers, causing him to let go of the dish he was clutching. You squeeze his hand and when he looks up and meets your eyes he’s hit like a fucking wrecking ball. Wetness rims your waterline. You’re staring straight through him, right into his soul. You see him. You see him. And he’s never going to be the same.

“I know,” you hum. The whole universe is in your eyes. “You don’t have to–”

“Died,” he finishes his sentence.

You nod. You know. Everyone lost everything when the world ended. You most likely lost loved ones too. You’re all just broken shells of people walking around now, although some are worse off than others. Your lip trembles and your eyes are wet like you’re going to cry tears for his lost Sarah too. You open your mouth and begin to speak with a shaky breath.

“One time when I was a pre-teen, I put off washing the dishes until it was very late, almost bedtime. When I was done my dad wouldn’t let me get ready for bed. He called me to come sit with him in the living room while he watched the ten o’clock news. A segment came on about teen pregnancy and the whole time I just sat there embarrassed, not understanding what we were watching, or why. When that story was over he clapped his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘okay then, goodnight,’ and sent me to bed. It wasn’t until years later I realized that was his version of the sex talk,” you finish with a chuckle.

Joel huffs out a laugh with you, finding your dad’s awkward solution somewhat relatable.

“I just gave her a book,” he recalls, “Don’t even remember who I got it from, I think one of her friend’s mom’s? I don’t remember but… it didn’t go over well. There was a lot of eye rolling.”

Your eyes pinch together as you both laugh, causing the tears that had welled up to spill from the sides. You finish drying the last dish and head upstairs to bed, but before you can turn towards your room he gently grabs your wrist and places your hand in one of his. His face is calm and peaceful. He looks content. He reaches his other hand up and cups your face. You think he’s going to kiss you, but instead he just says thank you. He holds your face a moment longer before squeezing your hand and heading into his room.

🖤

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx@lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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1427 · 5 months ago

Text

dirge

Boyd Crowder X OFC (Beatle)

Setting: in the WoOoOods (Justified Season 1, with Boyd’s militia)

Summary: Boyd is sick of being full of shit. When one of the recruits for his new flock seems to see him for who he really is, he decides it might not be so bad to let her.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, Boyd Crowder is Boyd Crowder, mentions of white nationalism, mentions of methamphetamine, religious imagery and references, mentions of militias, cults, and Boyd comparing himself to Christ (see above). NSFW WARNINGS; poooooooorly written smut, somno, rough fucking, unprotected piv, references to oral, jerking off, mentions of religion being used in sexual roleplay. mentions of other truly questionable roleplay scenarios, free-use dynamics

A/n: I started watching Justified a few days ago and Boyd Crowder really is one of the characters of all time, isn't he? Beatle is my OC who likes speed and sometimes sells it and sometimes strips but I obviously couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Beatle had been in one of those trailers he’d held looking for people to follow his cause. Especially since she's just absolutely fucking dazzled by charm and confidence and she'd love him in a way he'd probably never been loved before. Couldn't not write it & I broke my own heart.

Inb4 I disappear for 3 months again

18+ mdni

✞

Boyd didn't think his daddy would hang her up there with the rest of them.

She was special, didn't he know that? Couldn't he tell?

Her hair’s never smelled like gunpowder before. It's more a feeling than a smell, and it stings but he's grateful that it hurts. He deserves it.

Boyd didn't think his daddy would do any of this. But he wasn't thinking, was he? He should have seen it coming, should have known. Not ‘should have’ in the way that hindsight is 20/20 and you can make wanton wishes about the past; no Boyd should have because he does know better. He's smarter than to let something like this happen.

✞

When he got out of prison he knew he was full of shit. Same shit he'd always been full of. He figures it ain't really like lyin’ so much if everyone knows you're never showing your real face. Talking is more like a game. Trying to spit the words out around the secret biting between his teeth. Secrets? He figures he's allowed to have those. Like what his intentions might have really been when he'd started recruiting junkies to be saved. Be his flock.

Different vocabulary, same game, same moves, same outcome.

Boyd did think that there would be a different outcome this time. Everyone always ends up dead, but how could that happen this time? He knows that putting a gun to someone's head and mocking them into sobriety ain't exactly safe and its definitely not legal but it's what works. Who could rightly question his methodologies if he was getting such socially acceptable results?

The point (as the point of things usually is for Boyd) is that there are enough qualifiers for him to feign confusion and innocence at any question of his motivations. Like he was so damn good at. Boyd had a reply for anything. A defense for everything he'd ever done. Everything he'd ever do. Else he wouldn't be caught doing it.

This time was easier. This time actually felt like it could be something more. That even though he was using his knowledge of the human condition, and its drive to follow a strong and confident leader, that this time he was doing it for something good at least.

How could getting rid of meth in Harlan county be bad? Boyd asks himself that a lot these days. Whenever he starts wondering how full of shit he is again. And he tells himself it doesn't matter if he's lying about every damn thing, even to himself, if he's getting people clean and following the Lord.

He doesn't feel that guilty, though. Not enough to really do anything different. His flock is his flock, and when he talks about God he makes sure to word it just right. So they hear it and they think of him. Boyd’s teachings are their gospels, and sometimes Boyd quotes scripture so he can call on God like he's name-dropping a celebrity. It's what works. It's what always worked.

If you’re good at saying the right thing to the right person you can get just about anything you want. If you're good at finding the perfect time to say it, you can keep it. Gettin’ stuff is no good if you can't keep it. That's what all these Dixie boys always got wrong about business. Hell, what everyone got wrong about everything - getting people to just give you what you want always feels so much better than taking it. Usually ends better to.

Before prison, for most of his life, it was skin-heads. He'd already known the slurs and the on-the-surface racial epithets from growing up but it only took a few weekends at the library and a couple eavesdropped Klan meetings to understand what these men were searching for. Only took a few well timed bible verses and an encouraging nod or two to get them to listen. The hardest thing of the whole operation was keeping them from being stupid when he wasn't around.

“Can't plan for everything.” “Sometimes shit just happens.” and “It is what it is.” Are just some bullshit excuses people tell themselves. Because Boyd knows that anything can be planned for. It's just a matter of looking. It's just a matter of knowing. He knows that you don't enter a room without knowing there's an exit and that you don't open your mouth unless you know exactly what could be said back to you.

Boyd knows how to get what he wants.

But since he's been out of prison he doesn't know what the fuck he wants. So he does what he always does but this time it's with words like shepherd, divine calling, and manifesting righteous love. It feels nice to be leading through positive affirmations instead of bigotry. If only because Boyd really resented how objectively moronic white supremacy was - anything ‘supremacy’ was a fucking joke. And those boys in the brotherhood thinking they were God's gift to the genepool? Hard not to see it when you're lookin’, how ridiculous the whole damn thing is.

That's why it didn't feel all that bad talking down to them. Manipulating them into whatever the fuck he felt like. Boyd wonders about it when he feels this tugging in his gut sometimes when he talks to his flock. It doesn't bother him enough to stop, but just enough to wonder why he hadn’t felt it before.

Maybe it's because she's watching and she knows he's full of shit.

That doesn't usually make any difference to Boyd and his ability to believably speak lies but every time he meets her eyes he feels like she can see his soul, the things behind what he's saying, and it makes him want to stop. Like he's embarrassed. Just a little. Just barely. It's so foreign to Boyd that if he didn't know just about every physical tell a person's body could have, he wouldn't have been able to place it.

If Boyd had to find the words to explain it he might have said it felt like he wanted her to see him. That his body and his mind have, as most humans have, the desire to be vulnerable with another human being. That he was meeting something in her that his inner self craved. These were words he'd use. But actually feeling them was harder. His list of wants in life is small and it's been the same things for as long as he's been playing snake in the grass. She's not on it. She never was before.

✞

She isn't anymore.

For a few weeks, Boyd let himself have something he didn't think he was allowed. Something he'd told himself he didn't deserve.

He wonders now if he was full of shit that whole time too. If letting her hold him and kiss him and fall in love with who he really was - if he wasn't just doing it to see if he could.

Her hair never burned his nostrils before.

It's not meant to do that.

Kissing her forehead never tasted like blood either. Maybe it should have. Maybe if he'd tasted blood the first time he'd kissed her none of this would have happened.

Boyd doesn't understand how his daddy couldn't tell she was special. Not when he’d seen it the second she opened her mouth down the barrel of his own gun. Boyd knows she didn't go quiet and he knows if she could open her mouth and talk right now her throat would be sore and raw and ruined.

He tries not think about how he couldn't hear her. He’s not sure if he wishes he had.

✞

Beatle didn't get it at first but it didn't take her long. Faster than he'd expected. And maybe if he'd met her on a college campus he wouldn't have been so impressed with her. But what was Boyd ever gonna be doing on a college campus? No, as far as he was concerned it was like lookin’ at himself.

Almost.

She didn't want the same things, and that didn't lead her to be the same type of person Boyd was. But it didn't stop him from seeing himself in her. All her big words and sweet banter. Even with a damn gun to her head she knew how to be cool. He thought he might be in love with her.

She'd told him later that it was because she'd seen the way he'd looked at her and knew he wasn't going to shoot her. He told her he still would have shot her if she didn't agree to quit using. She tells him she loves him for the first time.

It had only been a few days since that had happened, them meeting, and after she’d said it she tried to explain it away. It's the first time he sees her not being so cool. It’s the first time he sees the potential for something more.

Not because she'd slipped up and been vulnerable or given him something to use against her. No, it was the feeling in his chest when she'd professed such genuine admiration for what would generally be considered something he should have kept to himself.

The quiet part he's gotten so good at not saying out loud. The secret between his teeth. She can see it.

✞

Days go by and he's certain she can see it. The way Raylan can see some of it. She starts calling him ‘the prince' around camp and she thinks he doesn't understand why. No one else does, and he supposes that's probably why he's letting her get away with it. He's amused by it. By her. Always saying something that ends up surprising him.

Just some gaunt addict he found in a shitty trailer in children's pajamas, but she's making observations about him in comparison to Italian philosophy. She can't keep herself from pointing out when he ‘mistakenly’ attributes some quote from a book or movie to himself instead. She uses words he doesn't know.

Those aren't the things that impress Boyd. What catches his attention is that she never uses the words like manipulate or Machiavelli or cult. If she ever does call him out on some misattributed quote she won't call him a liar, and she won't do it in earshot of anyone else. And when she uses her big girl words she looks at him like she's teasing him instead of trying to impress him. She knows when he's wrong about the obscure ass Bible stories too and he has no idea how she knows this shit.

Going out of her way to call him on being full of shit - without ever actually saying it at all.

She's good. She keeps being better at it than he'd thought someone could be. Someone like her. Someone who wasn't really anyone.

Maybe that's why Boyd felt like he could let her in on it. Just a little bit. Because she could see it and he knew she could and she never called him a liar or a bastard or a psycho or anything like that. She didn't even try to leave. If anything, she seemed charmed by it.

He didn't think too much about how it might feel to let someone in like that. What it could be like to show your real face and still be wanted.

✞

Their first kiss doesn't taste anything like blood.

It tasted like tobacco and dirt and her.

She'd been trying to figure a way to sleep closer to him during the nights. Boyd figures this out after she finally ‘confesses’ that she hasn't been sleeping well, she's ‘scared of the dark’.

He asks her how long it took her to come up with that bullshit.

She says two days.

He asks why she didn't come up with something better and can't argue when she says there really wasn't anything that didn't sound obvious.

It takes about an hour for her to be pressed up against him. They'd started with their sleeping bags a few feet away from each other, but as they talk the distance gets smaller. Boyd isn't sure if it's her or him that's moving in. Isn't he supposed to pay attention to stuff like that? Shouldn't he be at least a little aware of what she says and what she doesn't say and how she's moving and speaking and staring?

He's in the middle of a story about one of the banks, talking at her about some really ‘cool’ shit he'd said and never gotten to tell anyone (he never thought he'd wanted to) - and without a word she unzips her sleeping bag, unzips his sleeping bag, and rearranges. Making enough room for her to fit right up against him.

And she does.

Boyd keeps talking the whole time. Finishing his story. She listens, and replies, and neither one of them comment on what she's doing. Neither one of them say anything when she's nestled up against him.

He thinks it through… what to do in this situation. What outcome did he want? His dick is hard but it's not aching. He could sleep. He figures making her wait won't hurt his chances if he decides he wants them.

So he tells her politely goodnight and he's surprised when she doesn't protest.

Beatle rolls over and he pulls her close. No harm in being close. Really there was no harm in fucking her either, but it didn't feel like the right moment. Everything has its right moment.

He keeps thinking about fucking her and once again he isn't sure who started moving first but he's pulling her over his cock like her body was his to move how he wanted. It was definitely her who started it, he reasons, arching her back into him and wiggling around - but he could've dealt with it. Could've told her to stop, told her no, told her anything that he knew would shut her down. But just as he was about to say something she turned her head to look back at him.

She didn't twist her neck and meet his gaze romantically - pressing her hips delicately into his. No, she folded her body at her hips, completely arching herself against him, looking back and up at him like he was already fucking inside of her.

Boyd knows that when he grabs her hips hard enough to bruise her that she likes it that way. Even if she didn't say all the obvious shit that made him know.

He's not gonna fuck her. Not tonight. But he uses her body to cum and he doesn't feel bad because he's never felt bad about something human like that. And anyway, she liked it. He knows because he can smell how wet her cunt is. He knows because she was a shaking mess, moaning at just the feeling of dull pressure. He knows because she begged him to cum.

She begged him to cum instead of begging him to fuck her and Boyd thinks he might be in love again.

She turns around and kisses him and her face has dirt on it from where he'd pressed her head into the ground but he likes the way it tastes on her.

She kisses like an apology. A real one. One that comes from your whole fucking soul because you never felt anything more. Trying to connect. Fully. Deeply.

Tuggin’ on heart strings is a saying he's always heard and it always made sense until now when he actually feels it for the first time. Boyd, who's so keen on behavior and mannerisms and what was gonna happen next, feels everything she has.

He's been here before with women. Some of them were different but if he was honest most of them were the same. A sigh here, a disgusted look there. Knowing how a woman feels about you might be the easiest observation a man could make.

So Boyd was expecting what he'd gotten from her when he was grinding into her. All shaking and whimpering and he'd probably either have to take the lead or stop it - either was okay by him depending on what he felt like.

But she's someone else. Again. With one leg hooked around him and her hands around the back of his neck and in his hair - she takes his mouth with hers like she's evangelizing. Pushing everything she has into him and he can feel it. More than a physical something. More than her fingers pressing into the pulse at his neck. More than his cock getting hard again and this time it settles right between them.

He finally breaks the kiss only to ask her if she knows he can feel her clit every time it quivers against him. He only asks because he wants to feel it again.

Boyd’s good at talking. Beatle loves it.

He asks her so many filthy things. Things he'd never got away with asking someone else. Boyd knows there's not much you can't get away with saying with a whisper and a southern accent, but this… this was new even for him.

He wasn't sure what came over him. Why he needed her to know that he's been pretty sure he can tell when she's thinking about giving him head. About the glazed over look in her eye and how her mouth hangs open a little wider than she probably thinks it does when she's staring.

Or why he has to tell her that his cock was hard the whole time he had his gun on her the first night they met.

And he's not going to fuck her but he sucks on her tits like they've been eucharized. He can't stop talking because he can't get enough of every little fucking reaction.

Boyd figures out what it is when he's in the middle of telling her about how he knows her pussy is pretty and pink and the same color as her lips and how, he knows it's bad, but sometimes when she's talking to him all he can think about is what his cock would look like pressed up against her teeth - Beatle's body seizes on him a little bit different than it had been seizing before; and it all just clicks.

Getting a reaction from her was like breathing. Nothing in his life had ever come so easy. Or so fun.

She was letting him play with her.

All his silly little mind games everyone else hated so much. She liked it. Not in the way he’d meant for her to like it.

She liked him. Actually.

He's really not sure why he told her about cumming on her pajama pants before he threw them out. He was sure he'd take that one to the grave. But he tells her about it while jerking off onto her stomach because he wasn't going to fuck her but he needed to cum again.

And she eats the mess from her fingers from her belly and Boyd is certain he's allowed to be in love.

✞

Boyd had reasoned himself through a lot of things. Justifying almost anything. This? This he was having a hard time with. All he had going for him is that she'd liked it.

That she asked for it again afterwards.

Because when Boyd wakes up and the sun is peaking through the trees he can finally really see what her tits look like. Half falling out of her top. And when he reaches down to touch her there, her lips part. He thinks about how her pussy is the same color as her mouth and he thinks about how he told her that and how she reacted and he can't stop his hands even if he wanted to.

That's what he tells himself. He's reading her blind like a set of runes, it's not his fault her body is calling him this way. And she's reacting. So how could he stop? He can't.

He's not sure if she's sleeping or pretending to sleep and he'd be lying if he said he thought that hard about it. Hard enough to care. His fingers dip between her legs and even through her underwear he can feel it. Sticky and warm and hers.

Boyds hands seem to know what to do the same way his mouth does. Working the fabric of her panties down just slowly enough to not move her. He didn't want to fuck her he just wanted to feel it.

She spreads her legs for him a little, laying on her belly; another miracle. Another sign he shouldn't stop himself. The Lord was working through him.

This time he knows he's full of shit but he's rubbing his cock along her soaked lips and he can feel her clit tremble again and he doesn't feel bad when he pushes into her.

Her eyes jolt open like he'd been waiting for and the look on her face is an expression he doesn't think he's ever seen before. Something like fear and trust. Something someone like Boyd could get addicted to.

He fucks her into the ground. He wants to look at her face again so he pulls her head back by her chin. She meets his gaze like she'd been waiting for it. This. To look at him like this while he fucked her.

She bows her head and takes his fingers into her mouth. She tries to move her head and Boyd knows exactly what the fuck she wants so he gives it to her. Fishhooking his fingers into her cheek while he backs up and off her a little. Sitting her up on her knees before pushing her shoulders back down again.

Boyd knows how to get what he wants. He wants to go watch himself disappear inside of her.

He'd almost forgotten where they'd started this, but when he remembers he has to stop himself from finishing then…. Just barely pushing into her again and it reminds him of that first time. 5 minutes ago when she was asleep.

Boyd can't stop thinking about how she'd woken up wanting him. This desperate. This wet.

That he could make her want it even when she couldn't know anything.

She opens her fucking mouth one fucking time and it's to tell him to fuck her pussy like he fucking owns it. And it was kind of corny and it didn't quite hit as well as he thought something she could say during sex would and he's not mad or anything but she adds “because you do.” and Boyd buckles.

Falling on top of her body like her words hit him he holds her still as he ruts up into her. It's desperate and vulnerable and yet still completely overpowering. He tells her to say it again and she says the whole thing. He tells her no just the last part and she

Starts professing just how much he fucking owns her pussy. How it's never been for anybody else, from the second she saw him she wanted him. She felt him there, she always wanted to feel him there. Deep in her fucking cunt because it fucking belonged to him.

He asks her whenever he wants it?

She repeats him in breathless moans as he slows his pace

He asks her even if she's sleeping.

She tells him that she’s never been more turned on in her whole life.

He asks her why

Because he took it without asking.

Because he knew it was his.

Boyd cums so fucking hard he's vaguely aware that he's hurting her. Pressing her into the ground and she can't breathe but he knows she'll be okay in a second and he knows she doesn't care. He knows she prefers it this way. Even if she hadn't said it.

✞

For the next two weeks Boyd fucks her in just about every way he can think to fuck her. All the things he's ever wanted to try. Like waking her up by stretching her out. He can't believe he's never been able to wake someone up like that before.

He can't believe how much he likes it.

Responding to her body and giving it what it wants when she can't even speak. He's sure it's is favorite thing that they do.

He does things with her that he’d never actually considered before, too.

He plays pretend with her. Not in front of the others but they'll go out to the creek and he'll baptize her and they fuck in the water or on the edge or against a tree.

Or Beatle gets down on her knees like she's really praying and pretends to be confused when his cock head pokes at her mouth asking what he's doing and he gets to play along and say it's what the good Lord itends for her.

One time he laid her down and they pretended that as her pastor it was his holy duty to impregnate her with Christ.

Boyd didn't know he would get off on this shit. He's certain he wouldn't be if it wasn't with her. Who's mouth was so believable and reactions so pure - he doesn't have to wonder anything.

She likes it or she doesn't and she always fucking likes it.

✞

The sky is hazy and it looks like it might rain. Beatle asks him if he has any family and Boyd doesn't really know what to say. He doesn't want to lie but he doesn't want to talk about it.

He tells her no.

She asks if he's lying because he doesn't want them to meet her.

Boyd’s heart pangs again like it did when she'd kissed him that first time. All desperate and real and alive. He shakes his head and tells her no. She was too good for them.

He can tell she doesn't believe him. But saying nothing is better than saying more. And he knows she'll let him get away with not answering this one.

He tells her it doesn't matter anyway because he's pretty sure he loves her. And it's the first time he says it but it's not the first time he's felt it. Beatle believes him.

Boyd is pretty sure she's never believed those words in her whole life before now.

His heart pangs again.

✞

Bo Crowder was a scary sonofabitch. That's what Beatle said under her breath as he was walking up to their camp. Boyd’s glad she said it quiet because she didn't know how right she was.

She didn't know that was his daddy.

She knew about the meth shipment he was yelling about. Something he normally wouldn't have told her, even though it wasn't a secret necessarily. Something about wanting to protect a woman from the dangers of this world.

But Boyd needed Beatle. He trusted her. She was part of this with him. He didn't want her the way he wanted all of the rest and he wanted all of the rest to know it too. Something about making her feel like she was someone.

He knew he was saying and doing things at just the right times to make her feel special. But it's not like he didn't mean them. She treated each one like a fucking gift. Each public display, every private whisper. Every touch of their fingers and especially every time he buried himself inside her.

✞

It occurs to him on his walk through exile, while his people were no doubt being strung up and taken away by lawmen, that he doesn't think he can live without her. Well, at least that he doesn't want to. He reasons he shouldn't have to.

She didn't break any laws anyway and Raylan will probably hand her over personally when her record comes back clean. He'd asked her and she said she had no charges she'd known of. She'd know.

So, be patient. Wait it out. He runs through it again, in his head, all the stuff his daddy said. That they were gonna have them dig up the guns then tie em to a tree and call the feds.

He said a lot of other stuff too. About not being a son not being a leader not being nothing. Boyd was always sure he was nothing so none of that shit felt like anything. The first few blows his daddy makes his cousin give him don't feel like much of anything either.

Seeing Beatle’s face is what does it. He's sure he's rocked a few more times but he doesn't remember anything after seeing her look at him like that.

✞

Boyd tries not to remember Beatle for the way she looked at him then. He tries really hard to remember the few seconds he'd gotten to touch her hand before his daddy shot that gun one last time at him to get out of there.

He wishes he remembered it better but it's so fuzzy and barely there. He wishes his cousin would have just fucking beat him to death. He wishes that one prick ass degenerate addict piece of shit good for nothing follower who snitched out where the guns were would come back to life so he could rip apart every bit of him.

Because she'd probably still be alive. Boyd’s sure of it. If he'd died instead she'd be alive and the world wouldn't fucking feel like this.

✞

For a while he has delusions that it’s the Real Deal out and out End O’ Times. That with her went all the light and all the good because he just couldn't seem to reason why.

Couldn't his daddy see she was special?

Couldn't he see that she was divinely made for him?

That their love could have changed the world.

It could have changed him.

Boyd can't reason with his daddy because he's dead too.

✞

After even longer Boyd convinces himself he was full of shit the whole time. That Beatle was just some girl he stuffed his cock into to feel good about himself while he was reintegrating back into society.

Just some junkie, and if she was still alive she'd be back to using again. They wouldn’t have been anything because Beatle wasn't anyone.

She thought she was special, but don't they all?

Boyd doesn't think about it much anymore. When he does he only lets himself think one thing.

She couldn't have been real. Not the way he thought she was. He must have been wrong about her and he would have figured it out eventually.

He can't let himself think about her the way she really was.

The memories of her then are remembered by no one. Not a soul on this earth. Not even the ground they fucked on or the pond he made her piss in so he could watch. Not even in the stump that she'd carved their initials into because Boyd went back and he cut it all apart so sure that wasn't real either.

He keeps being so sure it wasn't real.

He convinces himself that some initials carved in a tree is just something childish and stupid and that's why he destroyed it. He convinces himself that it wouldn't have broken her heart.

He’ll convince himself of just about anything to keep from thinking about what it felt like to be loved. Because that's what it was, right? Love?

So he doesn't think about her. Or then. Or what happened and what didn't.

✞

It's the gunpowder. Every time it starts to sting up his sinuses he can feel her hair soft against his lips. And every time he closes his eyes and he remembers her. What it felt like to realize she was up there with the rest of them.

Maybe someday Boyd will let himself remember what it felt like to love her. He worries that by the time he’ll be ready he won't remember what she looked like anymore.

What she felt like.

He already forgets most of the stuff they'd talked about. He just knows she was special. He knows no one else would get it anyway. Why he wanted to let himself be stuck there forever. In those words. Dying. How three weeks could feel so much bigger.

Boyd keeps going out there despite how much he convinces himself he's not thinking about her. Everything time he smells the gunpowder.

He keeps finding reasons to use his gun.

Because even though in that memory she's dead it's the realest one he's got.

He doesn't think about her dead.

If he absolutely has to, laying down in the dirt where the camp used to be, he thinks about the way she looked when he'd told her he was pretty sure he loved her.

Sometimes he thinks about her mouth or her body or the way she always seemed to know what to do with them - but mostly he just thinks about the way she looked at him. Praying to be a better man for the next time around this life because she deserved more than God would allow him to give. The choices he had made previous to loving her had tainted his soul. Turned it rotten and poisoned her before he'd barely even gotten the chance. She'd paid for his sins. So he prays next time he meets her without any.

Boyd wishes just one time he would lay down out here and not get up.

He leaves the woods, convincing himself he was full of shit with her the same way he was full of shit with everyone, the memories of her die again, and he forgets about her until his subconscious finds some reason for him to fire a gun.

Any reason.

Boyd remembers enough about her to know she'd have liked that.

✞

A/n; it wasn't really proofread? (Well it was but I'm not very good at it) ALSO idk about this writing style either, i know it's kind of different? And in my opinion probably more juvenile but I had fun writing it this way. 🤷🏻‍♀️

(I'll make a different post about where I'm at with my wips~)

#justified #boyd crowder #boyd crowder x reader #Boyd Crowder X OFC #Smut #justified fanfic #one shot #Walton goggins #walton goggins smut #Walton goggins fanfic

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blue-florist · 9 months ago

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ok, so i was re-watching some episodes of Teen Titans Go cuz why not, and i saw "Colors Of Raven", in which the mysterious prism appear. It appears in other episodes, here's the wiki.

So, in my very Young Just Us deprived brain, what if they went on a mission and got this prism? for whatever reason.

Problem: Tim (Red Robin era) touches it. Immediately splits and YJ calls the batfam over cuz Tim is pretty well-contained on his own.

Pls feel free to use this idea, or say what you think. I just wont write an actual fic cuz i can't write for shit.

I wonder which "traits" he would split into.

(my knowledge is mostly Fanfic-centric cuz i forgot cannon lol)

Obsessive/Detective:

Ok but tim cannonically found out batman's identity at 9 and later found out WHERE Batman was at 17. He is a genius, and i like how the fandom makes him nearly obsessive with cases he can't figure out (gifted kid much lol?)

Tired/Done with life:

Mans got that self-induced insomnia, but i also hc him as like "misses 10 hours of sleep? sleep for 10 more to balance it out." Tim is constantly tired juggling Wayne Enterprises and Vigilantism, he deserves a break.

Plus, we can see Tim sacrificing/almost sacrificing himself in some moments, so I also hc him as passively suicidal, mostly caused by the cynicism he developed with becoming a vigilante.

Serious:

Ok, but for this kid to be CEO, face down people like Ra'as and stubborn his way into everything without even being an adult? he's got some balls man. Plus, his Red Robin persona is "intimidating", much like how i imagine batman to be (that cowl is so ugly it's terrifying also)

Personas/Actor:

Tim is known as "the robin who can lie to batman", ofc he is a good actor. I think a bit of the "socialite Tim" fan hc has taken a bit of a special spot in my brain, but Caroline Hills exists also so who am I to discuss this really?

Childish/Fun:

Ok, this is a bit of a treat to me. Tim cannonically skates and has used it to fight a gang, befriended a guy who turned into a cult leader, I think Tim (in all of his LoserBoy glory) deserves to be acknowledged as a fun person. The one who jumps trains with Dick, is close friends with the YJ, befriended Steph via recieving brick to face, etc. he is a fun little guy and i want to see him act goofy and silly for once.

#tim drake #red robin #dc robin #batman #dc batman #teen titains go #young justice #young just us #kon el #konner kent #cassandra sandsmark #bart allen #batfam #batman au

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ohimsummer · 3 months ago

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Do you see suguru wanting babies of his own with his lover? 👀 Both sorcerer him if he doesn’t defect, and cult leader..

YES!!!!! and I will be using this to dump all my word vomit bc I was just thinking of suguru and pregnant! Reader earlier (in the college au but yk this can be applied across the multiverse 😼)

him dealing with reader and their mood swings/pregnancy hormones….jfjdjsk something tips you off and he is so patient, standing there confused while you fuss at him because it took forever for him to come back from the bakery (he was getting the strawberry biscuits that YOU asked for specifically from that shop so it was either you cry because he didn’t get them or you’re mad because he took too long….lose-lose 😭)

but he ofc never really takes it to heart, maybe it’s a little frustrating sometimes but in the end he understands you can’t really help it and suguru always welcomes you back with open arms when you inevitably come crawling into his lap, teary-eyed and remorseful and apologizing for getting angry with him (he kisses your cheeks and your lips and rubs your sides and tells you it’s okay)

suguru is ofc very protective over you and the baby (before and after they’re born). he has a sort of sixth sense in regards to you which increases like. x20 as you get further into your pregnancy. if you stumble, if you trip, if you almost bump into something, suguru is there with hands on your waist and belly to pull you against him and stabilize you.

(he is also so very affectionate but that is a Given. kisses your belly and whispers sweet little words to the baby, tells them how momma and daddy love them so much and he’s so excited to meet them and hums little songs to them. it is also during one of these songs that he feels the baby kick and his heart is beating so fast and he starts laughing because you joke that the baby wants him to shut up so they can rest BFIDKSK)

(for cult leader! suguru you give him a very unamused glare whenever he starts mentioning “monkeys” and you tell him to knock it off 🤨🤨)

I hc that your baby has suguru’s hair color and eyes, your hair texture, skin tone, and some of your body marks (I forgot the word HFIDKS like if you have freckles then they also would/will have freckles too) they are a chubby little baby and look just like you in the face minus the eye colour and suguru absolutely adores the fact that they look almost identical to you <<333

#okay I think I’m done. this is a lot. I NEEDED TO SHARE THIS!!! SOMEONE TALK ABOUT SUGURU AND PREGNANT READER WITH ME!!!#.𖥔 summy answerz .ᐟ ๋࣭ ⭑#anon! ‎♡‧₊˚#⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ summy is thinking . . . ｡⋆#geto suguru headcanons #papa! sugs <3

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hentagirl · 1 year ago

Text

Good Boy ෆ

Warnings: Dacryphilia, size kink, finger sucking and fucking, corrupt kink, yandere, cock sucking, Doma uses you as a fleshlight, non-con

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: You are sent to eternal paradise cult to spy on the uppermoon Doma but soon become his favorite sadly he hits your head making you forget he was a demon and how your a demon slayer but soon you get use to Doma looking and following you it’s normal right..?

❝𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞~❞

__________ෆ

“a-are you sure I-I can do this…” said a very nervous boy “Ofc! and if you are in danger a crow will be there following every move the cult does” said a woman with purple tips and dark soulless purple eyes Shinobu dressed up the young boy in a ragged yukata “there your disguise is ready!” said Shinobu “Now you have to pretend to be miserable near the cult someone will take you in hopefully and you’ll be watched there by a crow if it sees you struggling we will send a hashira to help you now please be safe.” said Shinobu holding the nervous boy hands “i don’t want you having the same fate as Kanae..” said Shinobu “Don’t worry i’ll come back in one piece!” said Y/n smiling at the woman who smiled back

__________ෆ

“Oh my your so young what are you doing here!” said a woman looking at a young boy who was in rags his face stained with tears “i-i was kicked out of my p-parents house b-because—“ the young boy began crying again the woman hugged him and she smiled “listen there is a mansion near our leader is so kind to let anyone in need to stay you could be aided there” said the woman the young boy smiled “Oh thank you so much!” said the boy hugging the woman

Y/n was brought to a huge mansion he watched in awe seeing a lot of happy people and pictures of a handsome man with rainbow eyes “w-who is h-he?” questioned Y/n “Oh that is Doma our cult leader who does good in the world!” praised the woman ‘Shinobu didn’t tell me how the demon would look.. why don’t people see he’s a demon..’ thought Y/n “oh look there!! go to the nurse they will give you medicine and a room” said the woman “now take care young boy” the woman walked away as the boy nervously went inside the infirmary

“now you look much better here’s your room” said a nurse “oh t-thank you..” said Y/n “Hey you the leader wants to meet you!” said the same woman from earlier “m-me?!” said the boy frantically “Yes you omg you’ll finally meet Doma listen don’t be so nervous your gonna give a bad impression to our leader!” said the woman making the young boy more nervous “o-oh ok!!” said Y/n the woman grinned and dragged the young boy somewhere else..

They soon made it to large wooden doors the woman knocked and there was a voice behind the door “It’s open!” the woman opened the door and blushed seeing the cult leader “Ara ara~ you look so young and cute” said the rainbow eyed demon making the young boy turn red he could feel his heart beat faster “thank you for bringing me the boy you can leave now.” said Doma the woman smiled following orders leaving the young demon slayer and the upper moon demon “So tell me about yourself here have a seat!” smiled the demon Y/n nervously walked to the empty spot next to Doma “Now tell me why are you here?” said Doma making the young boy sweat nervously the demon tilted his head innocently “the woman told me you were kicked out of your house why?” said Doma the young boy mentally sighed “w-well i was kicked out because my older sister was basically the favorite and she framed me for something i didn’t do and t-that’s how i got kicked out..” the boy had tears running down his face making the demon feel more thrilled the demon made the young boy lay down on his chest “It’s ok you can stay here for as long as you need” said Doma he smelled the boy he smelled so nice and yummy..no he had to resist..he felt the young boy go limp ‘Oh he’s asleep that fast..’ he smelled so good he just needed one bite..one bite won’t hurt right plus he’s asleep Doma opened his mouth revealing large sharp teeth’s he licked the area he was going to bite and sank his sharp fangs into Y/n’s neck “hng..” Doma sucked the blood out of Y/n’s neck his blood was so sweet “D-Doma!!” Y/n felt the pain and tears ran down his face “Oh your awake that’s good~” said Doma he was about to take off Y/n’s yukata when Y/n backed away “s-stay away i’ll tell everyone your a demon!” panicked Y/n he covered his body with the bloody yukata Doma sighed “I didn’t wanna do this lily pad..but you leave me no choice” Y/n saw Doma was gone for a second and he turned around and felt cold hit his head he fell down to Doma arms making him smile

__________ෆ

“Oh Y/n you look so good today!” said a man Y/n nervously smiled “t-thank you..” said Y/n he could feel eyes dig into his skull but ignored it “Y/n i was wondering if you’d like to have fun tonight at my room~” said the man Y/n looked at him confused oh he’s so innocent the man sighed and smiled again whispering into his ear “i’m saying that we should sleep together i promise i can make you forget about everything and think about how my cock drills inside you~” said the creepy man Y/n blushed at his words recently Doma has been teaching some stuff to Y/n and most of the education was about yk.. Y/n tried declining the creepy man’s offer but he would still follow the young boy around “come on i promise you’ll have a great time~” said the man “i-i already said no what d-don’t you understand!” yelled the young boy “Oh Y/n is this man bothering you?~” said a rainbow eyes demon Y/n turned around tears staining his face “c-can we go please..” pleaded Y/n he clinged onto Domas arm “Of course~” Doma and Y/n walked away not before giving the creepy man a death stare

Y/n was now eating outside the huge mansion he didn’t see the creepy man anywhere which is a good thing maybe Doma banned him from ever coming back or something else happened.. Y/n finished his food and went back inside “Oh Y/n over here~” Y/n saw Doma waving at him “Oh Hi Doma!” said Y/n smiling “t-thank you for banning the creepy man” said Y/n holding Domas hand affectionately “…i did ban him and it was no problem i’d do anything to protect you my little lily pad~” said Doma he watched as Y/n became flustered “It’s becoming night time why don’t you sleep here?” said Doma inviting Y/n inside “wow your room is so large..” awed Y/n “There is a king sized bed with curtains you can sleep there if you’d like!” said Doma “what about you?..” questioned Y/n making Doma smile “I don’t really need sleep..” said Doma “c-can you atleast stay with me please..” pleaded Y/n “Oh sure anything for you~” said Doma, Y/n was ontop of Doma he kept moving trying to find a comfortable spot but it all started when Doma groaned “Lily pad please try not to move to much~” said Doma “s-sorry am i heavy..” panicked Y/n he tries to get off but Doma pulled him closer “Lily pad your making me quite hard~“ said Doma making Y/n question him “Your innocence always makes me so thrilled~” Doma held Y/n facing his back Y/n felt something hard poking his back “Do you feel that lily pad?~ you did this you made me so hard you make me wanna pound you make you cry~” said Doma he slowly snaked his fingers around Y/n’s face and put them inside Y/n’s mouth “suck.” Y/n sucked on Domas slender fingers and Doma thrusted his fingers deeper his throat making Y/n gag and little tears started forming in his eyes Y/n opened his mouth and Doma took out his fingers and put his hand under Y/n’s yukata he felt his small hole and sticked his finger in making Y/n moan “i-it hurts!” cried Y/n “Don’t worry Lily pad you’ll feel much better when i find that spot oh found it~” Doma hit Y/n’s prostate making him let out a slutty moan like “your so tight~” Doma felt Y/n’s wall tighten on him “and so sensitive look at how your dick is letting out pre cum~” Doma continued with the dirty talk making Y/n feel hotter “m-my tummy feels a-weird!” whimpered Y/n “relax lily pad you’ll feel much better~” said Doma Y/n followed orders and saw white he felt such amazing pleasure just by Domas slender fingers “you look so cute having a orgasm~” said Doma, Y/n felt Domas hand to his chin “your mouth is so cute letting out such beautiful sounds i hope your mouth knows how to suck a cock~” said Doma he loosened up his yukata revealing his huge cock Y/n stared in shock was he suppose to put that all in his mouth?… “don’t worry i’ll be gentle~” said Doma Y/n bend down and opened his mouth he licked the pre cum that tasted salty Y/n licked the tip like a kitten Doma sighed “such a innocent soul im not surprised you don’t know how to suck a cock don’t worry i’ll teach you~” Doma shoved his whole cock inside Y/n’s mouth making him gag and more tears stained his face “there you go~” Y/n sucked onto his cock and felt the vieny cock pulse Doma wasn’t so quiet “Oh just like that lily pad~” groaned Doma he thrusted into Y/n’s throat making the young boy gag “oh i’m cumming~” Doma came inside Y/n’s mouth making him swallow the salty liquid “Good boy~” Doma praised Y/n who was already tired unfortunately for him Doma has infinite stamina

“D-Doma p-please n-no more hahh~” Y/n let out slutty moans feeling Domas huge cock hit his abused prostate “I-i can’t take hng anym-more~” cried Y/n, Doma who was pounding Y/n like a animal in heat smirked “Look at how much you take me in such a obedient and good boy you were made for me~” said Doma “Hng hah~..” Y/n cried feeling so much pleasure “don’t worry lily pad after this i’ll take such good care of you~” said Doma smiling like crazy

“You won’t remember anything~”

#doma demon slayer #tw yandere #kny x reader #male reader #kny shinobu

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siren-darkocean · 3 months ago

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idk if you're still up for answering Bionicle/Hero factory questions, but I got back into both atm and I found your blog. I've uh ... Been lurking a lot and have enjoyed all your posts. So I have a question.

What would happen if Stormer and Ackar met? And likewise with Mata Nui and Furno.

Plus, I've been debating on writing a short fic about it, but do you have any ideas on if Mata Nui saw Ackar heavily injured? Their relationship (canon or otherwise) is by far my favorite dynamic.

*bursts into the room covered in blood as if I haven't spent hours in my bed playing the new Cult of the Lamb Unholy Alliance update for hours of the day even at almost 1 am*

*fixes hair and glasses* I'M GLAD YOU FUCKING ASKED MY FRIEND!

Okay Ackar and Stormer (my fatha(don't judge I see him and Furno as parents to replace my crappy ones ehhh)), Ackar would be mixed ground souly because he's somewhat used to biomechanical beings existed from the GSR Inhabitants and even MATA NUI HIMSELF, but with the heroes being powered by Quaza from Quatros that's a new for him

Stormer I would imagine Hero Factory is somewhat aware of the Spherus Magna inhabitants or any alien species (there's this theory of Hero Factory taking place centuries or eons after the events of G1 Bionicle in tying Hero Factory origins to Spherus Magna (I think it was mainly because Mr.Makuro looks similar to Matau as a Turaga so there's that, plus other stuff I'm not sure rn) but he would be a bit curious to learn of the Glatorian

The two would definitely get along due to their stressed leader energy and bad habit of over working themselves to the bone (or Core for Stormer's case)

Mata and my momma Furno on the other hand-

Mata: why do you remind me of Gresh?

Furno: Who?

Jokes aside of that, Furno would be SO confused (like the Bara Magna inhabitants aka Agori and Glatorian) as Mata explains to him details of his old body and universe like he would nearly short circuit at all of this information (Furno: There was little guys managing your body? Mata: Yes, and no-) processing into his data banks

I think they would get along fine however because Mata just got that lovable personality who no one hates (ignoring the Brotherhood, Tuma, Skrall, Bone Hunters and Metus)

And of that one shot-

I HAVE HAD THAT IDEA SEVERAL DOZENS OF FUCKING TIMES IN VARIOUS WAYS YOU HAVE NO IDEA!

Okay of ideas wise: While Ackar is somewhat used to getting injuries as a Glatorian, the issues of survival on Bara Magna and ofc the double fights in the arena

MATA ON THE OTHER HAND IS TERRIFIED WHEN ANY OF HIS FRIENDS GETS HURT BECAUSE THE AMOUNT OF HIS PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED OR SACRIFICED THEMSELVES FOR HIM HE IS NOT RISKING ANYMORE LIVES

He is so overbearing to tending to his friends wounds and Ackar and even Berix and Click aren't fucking spared from it

I would imagine something from the Mata Nui's Challenge readers level book link here after the whole thing of Mata Nui defeating the Rock Steed Ackar is injured (it's not as bad as Mata Nui's panic is making it out to be) so its just Ackar sitting through the fallen God nursing his wounds in a panic trying not to laugh because he some reason finds this hilarious to him having someone worry for him like this

Maybe potential venting of the people who died and or sacrificed themselves for Mata Nui in the GSR (because let's be fr man needs to NOT bottle that shit up it ain't mentally healthy) *coughs* even Matoro *coughs* and the whole thing Mata Nui has a mental breakdown (mainly crying because yes) with Ackar comforting him

Also I love seeing people noticing how amazing Ackar and Mata Nui's relationship (both platonic and romantic) is, like it's so fucking good

I'm always down for content especially fics and oneshots of those two

#bionicle #g1 bionicle #lego bionicle #mata nui #toa mata nui #ackar #bionicle the legend reborn #the legend reborn #2009 bionicle #bara magna arc #answer ask #mata nui/ackar #ackar/mata nui #lego hero factory #hero factory #preston stormer #william furno

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koskela-knights · 3 months ago

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Sometimes I can be really fed up with the slander and mischaracterization of the Koskelas. That and how people seem to (mis)remember everything about them. Yeah, in the long run, they sadly didn't play a relevant role and probably are considered minor characters to most people but some takes I've seen are just wild af.

And oddly, they seem to be the only characters who are both so invisible/not cared about and getting the wildest takes at the same time. Astonishing, really

A non-exhaustive list so far of takes and just basic things people forget/misremember/didn't catch:

They're being called hillbillies

They're being called hillbillies and that they'd vote right-wing (plz, they're anti-government and anti-authority af. Additionally I feel if they were bigoted and close-minded as the person implied, they would not have rented a trailer to Saga)

They're called stupid, middle-class adults trying to be a neighbourhood watch

They're called incompetent (are we gonna ignore they almost singlehandedly managed to keep Watery and Bright Falls safer thanks to their Cult???? Hello? The FBC literally put Scratch in a time-out-box and their agents got slaughtered left and right. Also, I'd like people who accuse them to try the same: juggle economic collapse in your town, having multiple jobs with supernatural dread and horrors and see how well they fare. The physical and mental toll that these things take are heavily heavily understated and overlooked.

Jaakko is a dad. (This can be found through the e-mails from Charlie & Charline to Uncle Ilmo, the thermos costume people talking about their dad, Ilmo calling Jaakko a stay-at-home-dad if you never talked to Ilmo at the monitoring station. It's hinted at Jaakko saying that family comes first in the profiling section with Saga

Ilmo is greedy (there was 1 negative review stating this. Honestly, if he rly was greedy he wouldn't "yeet" Saga's trailer rent like that. And while CW might be overpriced on some fronts, so are many amusement parks and clearly, Watery is suffering economically. They arent' exactly swimming in money lmao so ofc they try to do anything to uplift their town)

Jaakko absolutely hated being in the commercials and was lazy in them (at first glance perhaps, but you see subtle hints and smiles and laughs from him on many occasions proving the opposite. yeah, he might not be as into it as Ilmo but he must've enjoyed it enough to still star in it)

They're morally evil as seen in the concept art. (when I asked the person about where they got that claim, they ended up admitting it was from a dream lmao)

They're members of the Cult, the leaders even. This might feel obvious but apparently it isn't. Rose isn't the only one hunting down Taken. The Cult did it too. It was their main goal and they were the very reason Saga and Casey came to BF in the first case becos of their 'murder rituals'.

Alan wrote them to be good. (Honestly, I'm tired of the takes that Alan wrote everyone and everyone's personality. It completely robs every character of any agency or wit they have)

Echo Ilmo is the same Ilmo we see in Watery. (As far as I'm concerned, Echo Ilmo or 'the Cultist' died in the echoes.)

Ilmari is straight-up Ilmo. (While there's a manuscript detailing that the Dark Presence tried to turn Ilmo and Jaakko into Ilmari and Jaakoppi, doesn't mean they're the same person.)

YY Ilmari's personality being taken at face value. (If people even remember this character at all, people think that's the only version/personality of him. I'd say that YY is a biased piece of work becos of Seine/Zane is an unreliable narrator/director. Also on the Huotari Well it's explicitly stated that the Historical Ilmari said he was possessed by the Näkki. This can be up for interpretation of course. But I doubt he'd be exactly the same as the Ilmari we see in YY.)

People straight up forget that Scratch's cool jacket belongs to Jaakko. And even the devs went as far as to just completely remove the kalevala knights' logo from the jacket and the club's existence in the DLC

They're bikers. They're literally part of the Kalevala Knights Motorcycle Club. Again, yeeted out of existence with the DLC

People dunking on Coffee World. (Well, yeah clearly the park has seen better days. But again, if we consider what is happening around town and Bright Falls, the economic decline... it's tough out there and the Koskelas are trying their best with the terrible hand they've been dealt. And all things considered, they're doing pretty okay)

Ilmari Huotari erasure. In fan art, fanfic and fan vids he is often completely left out while he might have had the longest interaction with Kesä of all. He was literally the third listed actor in it. Yet absolutely forgotten.

#personal #my ramblings #koskela brothers

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marlasbreastlump · 7 months ago

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how do you imagine fem angelface lookin like? Do you think she would look the same as her male counterpart but somewhat different?

basically this:

so not that different from her male counterpart.. i really liked the caterpillar eyebrows and messy hair so i kept those, as well as her being insanely blonde. the freckles are there just bc i thought they were cute. i think she’s very young, too. not 16 like in the script which is INSANE and FALSE, but in the 19-23 range.

and character wise i think due to her youth she’s the one who changes the most out of the cast, or at least among the side characters. so while this is a spiral into insanity for narrator its a coming of age movie for angel face. she just slippery slopes from -> attending fight club because she enjoys violence and agrees with tyler’s sermons -> becomes further radicalized as she joins Project mayhem and the soap company -> becomes one of the leaders of terrorist cult and commits domestic terrorism and murder on a massive scale. at the beginning i 100% believe she had a puppy crush on Tyler/narrator, but probably grew out of it sometime between getting her face smashed in and putting pipe bombs in senators’ mailboxes. imo she’s very aware of how she looks and is extra aggressive to compensate, which is probably why she got promoted in the terrorist death cult.

i draw her super cutesy and wide eyed in most of my posts.. but tbh i dont think thats how she really looks, but moreso how narrator sees her if that makes sense? narrator has a tendency to perceive only in relation to herself (i want bob to br my mom, i want/want to be tyler, i want the boss to be my dad (NOT as in she want the boss, as he is, to be her dad, but that she wants him to be a paternal figure? something that he’s not)) and in that same vein she sees angel face as “i want to be her/ i want to want to be her/ i want what she has”? if that makes sense. sort of an inverse tyler (i want her ability to reject society and find freedom vs i want her qualities which make her accepted and desired in society)? thats why i think she resents her so much—“you have what i wanted and you choose to reject it/you have what i tried to have and you have it without even trying/ you can have both these things at the same time while i cant even have one (total commitment to tyler’s ideology and acceptance/desire by society because of her looks)” sort of sentiment— and ofc tyler being affectionate towards her doesnt help.. so basically a time bomb made of jealousy and resentment.

#this becomes increasingly illegible as you read #f fight club #fem fight club #angel face

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donottouchredbutton · 1 year ago

Text

Endlessly Falling

joaquin torres x sunshine!reader/ofc

3k words

she was falling, and there was only one person she trusted to catch her.

set in the same universe as this fic

warnings: angst, fear, canon-typical violence but i think it's pretty vague, reader/ofc has a fear of heights, idk let me know if i'm missing anything

note: idk if this is any good, i wrote it in like four hours unedited while i was trying to distract myself from burnout from work. feedback is always welcome :) also let me know if you notice anything familiar about sunshine's backstory... idk maybe there's something there, maybe there's not. let me know what you think!

She was running for her life. Again. She was really getting tired of this shit.

She remembered a few weeks ago when the worst thing she had to worry about was getting her essays turned in on time, emailing her professors, and working on her thesis, back when she was just a grad student. Since meeting Joaquin, she found herself in trouble a lot more than she ever expected to be.

That wasn’t to say this was the first time she’s ever had to run for her life, or that meeting Joaquin was the start of her getting into trouble. Or that meeting Joaquin was her first time helping a superhero. No, she had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. She remembered when she was a teenager the few (multiple) times when her dad’s work followed him home (literally) and having to hide or having to flee her own home just so he could take care of it. Terrifying as it was, she had learned to be good at finding the best hiding spots on the fly. And she still remembered when she was nineteen being trapped in a cage with a monster (who, to be fair, was her dad, but we won’t go into the specifics this time), with the intention of being mauled to death alongside a woman she barely knew. And just a year later, having to travel halfway across the world to help a superhero with identity issues to stop a cult and rescue her dad from said cult (her dad had a bad habit of getting himself into trouble, but he would always tell her that her uncle was even worse).

Yeah. This wasn’t her first rodeo. And she was positive it wouldn’t be her last, either.

But she sure as hell didn’t miss having to do this.

Sam and Joaquin had both understood and agreed initially that they needed her help if they were going to stop this underground terrorist group. Bucky had been on the fence about it at first, thinking her too nice and innocent to get involved, but once she had proved herself in a fight the first time he had realized he had jumped the gun on judging her. She was a formidable opponent while still being able to maintain her happy nature and her positive, love-for-life attitude.

Which was why she found herself in this position for the first time in years. She hadn’t meant to cause a distraction, she had just been sent by the men on a reconnaissance mission to one of their underground meetings while the three of them tried to take out their base of operations nearby. Even to her, the meeting was much bigger than she had been expecting, and the sound of the men updating her on their progress through her earpiece was only confirmation: they were a much bigger threat than they had initially believed. She had been listening to one of the leaders of the group as he slowly but surely began riling everyone up, his voice raising as he spoke to them about forcing order to the world and subjecting the people who had no care for them. He was nearly shouting at that point, and it was honestly beginning to frighten her. She was so ensnared by his words that the sound of Sam yelling through the earpiece completely threw her off her guard.

“GET DOWN! IT’S A TRAP!”

The sound of gunshots on the other end of her earpiece caused her to gasp in fear, which caused her to slap her hand over her mouth in dread. She was scared for her friends, but she was also terrified at the sudden silence that happened in the room next to her after she did so. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as what was surely only a few seconds felt like years as she awaited what would happen. She didn’t dare breathe as she waited, her back pressed against the wall to make herself as small as possible.

“Someone’s here with us. Take care of it.”

The leader’s words were just loud enough for her to hear, but it was more than enough to set her off at a sprint to get out of there.

She had been running for what had felt like forever when she finally thought to check in with the others to make sure they were okay, and to find out what the hell happened.

“What the hell happened?” she shouted through the earpiece.

“They knew we were coming! It was a setup!” Sam shouted back. He and Bucky were fighting off terrorists left and right as they themselves tried to get out of the base. Their initial plan had been to find the leaders at the base and to either a) reason with them and get them to come willingly (Sam’s idea) or b) stop them by any means necessary (Bucky’s idea), but the three men had been met with nearly an entire army once they got there like they knew they were coming. The place had been booby trapped of all things, tipping the group off so that they opened fire seconds later. They all knew that if they were in trouble, she would be too. “Get outta there, now!”

“I’m trying!”

And she was. Unfortunately for her, the place was a maze, and with about ten angry men chasing after her, it was hard for her to focus on where all of the hallways led to rather than just trying to get away from them. Her fear was making it hard to think, and luckily it was making it hard to think about the fear itself. She just needed to get away.

The sound of Joaquin’s voice in her ear immediately began to uncloud her mind. “Find a way to go up! Stairs, ladder, window, anything! I’ll come find you!”

She wasn’t able to think about how he would be able to do so, but she listened to him anyway. She trusted him enough to believe he was telling the truth.

Truthfully, Joaquin didn’t know if he was. He had split from Sam and Bucky once they had opened fire, Sam telling him to fly out of there to find their superior and tell them all they had learned about the group. He often thought about what it would be like to jump out as Falcon, but he wasn’t exactly able to reflect on those expectations when he was in the middle of a life or death situation. He thought once he did so that he was in the clear, but there had been a couple of helicopters right outside waiting for him. So, they had air support. Of fucking course they did.

Joaquin was sure that their superior would get an earful from Sam once they were finally on the clear (if they ever got to that point). He was doing his best to take out the people shooting at him from the helicopters, making sure they stayed focused on him so they wouldn’t start shooting elsewhere, but the entire time his focus was elsewhere. He couldn’t keep his mind off of her, and he was riddled with guilt.

Joaquin was the one who had fought so hard to convince Sam and Bucky that she could help them on this mission. While they had both known she could handle herself, they were hesitant to let her go into the field with them, especially on a mission like this. She would have to get about as close as she physically could to this terrorist group without them finding out she was there, and they weren’t willing to risk her getting hurt or worse if something went wrong. It was the last thing Joaquin ever wanted, but he saw how hard she fought to convince them. He saw her conviction and determination, and more than anything, he saw that she truly cared. She just wanted to help, and Joaquin knew that. She was running for her life right now because he was the one to convince them to let her help.

She was in danger because of him.

He was right about her needing to find a way up. She had found a door that led her to a staircase all the way up to the roof. She took a quick glance over her shoulder to see how close the men were, finding them far away enough for her to be able to lock the door behind her. If she wasn’t running for her life, she would’ve thought about how it definitely seemed like a safety issue for the door to even have a lock, but she was more concerned about buying herself at least a minute or two to get to the top. She didn’t look back again after she locked the door and began to race up the stairs, not until she heard the sound of a gunshot blowing the door open. The information that they did have guns with them scared her more than she thought it would. They liked the chase, and they didn’t want the end to be quick if they did catch her. The thought made her blood run cold, and a new wave of adrenaline filled her as she continued to run.

Once she reached the roof, once again locking the door behind her to buy herself some time, she looked out to try to find Joaquin anywhere nearby, but he was nowhere to be found. She braced herself as she looked over the edge of the building she was on, and the realization of just how far up she was was quick to set in. She hadn’t realized how long the staircase was nor how far up she had run, but the sight of the city what looked like miles beneath her caused her heart to beat faster for a completely different reason. She could handle most things—monsters, cults, running for her life. Heights weren’t one of those things.

“Joaquin,” she said. She tried to steady the tremble in her voice, trying to control her breathing.

“I’m on my way!” he shouted back, trying to dodge the helicopter that was currently shooting at him. He was not on his way, but he needed to be soon if he wanted any chance of getting to her in time.

The sound of the men chasing her banging on the door to the roof made her jolt, dread filling her veins like venom. They were throwing themselves against the door to get it open. Unsuccessfully, sure, but the knowledge that they had the means to get the door open with their weapons made her believe that this was just a sadistic scare tactic. The thought made her sick.

“Joaquin,” she warned. She was unable to hide the fear she felt from her voice. Even she could hear her voice shake.

So could Joaquin, and he knew they were both running out of time. Taking out the pilot in the final helicopter, he set the thrusters of his wings to full power before jetting off to where she was.

“I’m on my way!” he shouted once again, but he knew that he wouldn’t be there in enough time. Thinking fast, he added, “You’re gonna have to jump!”

Her stomach dropped at the thought. “I can’t,” she whispered. But she knew she was running out of options. The men chasing her would get tired of playing with her, and in seconds they would be out there with her. She’d have nowhere else to go. Her hands were already shaking as the reality of what she had to do was setting in.

And she was right. The sound of the door to the roof being blown open made her jump, and the sight of the men closing in on her filled her with a fear she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“JOAQUIN!”

“JUMP!”

She didn’t think. She ran to the edge of the building and jumped, right before they could grab her.

She’s fallen before. She’s fallen out of tall trees when she was little, her dad constantly scolding her for climbing trees when she knew she might fall, but that’s why she always did it—to get better at climbing without falling. She’s jumped off of high platforms, trying to get down from where she was to try to help someone who needed it. She’s been thrown off of the side of a building before, but even then that was done when she was unconscious. This was something different. Being in free fall for so long, that sinking feeling in her gut never leaving but slowly getting worse as she seemed to fall closer to the ground in slow motion. The air whipped at her as if punishing her for jumping, her fear only growing as it felt like she would be endlessly falling.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think to breathe. She couldn’t think, her mind somewhere up in the clouds that she seemed to remember falling through when she jumped. Her eyes were dripping with tears she couldn’t stop as the cool air burned them as she went. Another punishment, she thought. The air was thin, too, choking her up even more. She couldn’t find her voice, though if she did, she wouldn’t have been able to think about calling for Joaquin again. She couldn’t think about whether he would catch her in time. She just had to continue falling.

Joaquin’s heart raced as he did, his sights set on her as he flew to catch her. He could hear the fear in her voice when she said she couldn’t jump, it had been clear as day to him that she was afraid to. He hadn’t wanted to make her do it, but he knew she had to. And he knew he would rather die than let her hit the ground. He wouldn’t let her get hurt again. He would make sure of it.

When he was finally close enough, his arms reaching for her, Joaquin felt time stop. He couldn’t think. The only thing he could focus on as he reached for her was her eyes. Those eyes he had seen could hold such light and happiness as he had come to know her, those same eyes that were squeezed shut from fear and wet with tears he knew she couldn’t stop. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, never daring to let go.

Once she felt him surrounding her, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, aware enough to not choke him but clutching onto him like her life depended on it, because it did. There was nothing that would get her to let go. And now that he was holding her, she could finally feel herself breathe again.

They were both silent as he flew them away from the building, away from all of the bad men who wished them harm, away from where she felt for a moment she was falling to her death. The pit in her stomach from falling was gone, replaced with something else she couldn’t place. She still felt sick feeling her insides shaken so much, but it wasn’t just that. She felt a pull inside her, not in her stomach but maybe in her chest. She couldn’t know for sure, still barely able to think or process what was going on. The only thing she knew for sure at that moment was that she felt well and truly safe wrapped up in Joaquin’s arms.

Joaquin finally landed them on the roof of another building, much much shorter than the one she had jumped from and miles away. With the way she was clutching onto his back, he knew she could use a moment to stand on her own two legs and catch her breath. Once his feet touched the ground, he slowly eased her down as well, taking care to handle her gently for fear of causing her any more grief. His arms didn’t leave her even as she got her footing, nor did they when she leaned heavily against him once she was standing. She was still gripping him for dear life, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. He was sure he was holding her in a similar way.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes. He always made sure that she was, and if she wasn’t, he always did what he could to help.

“…Yeah,” she answered slowly, barely audible if it weren’t for her mouth being so close to his ear. “Just… need a minute.”

Joaquin knew that they didn’t have a minute. He should’ve already been with his superior by now, finishing up with the debrief as they waited for Sam and Bucky to return as well. But he wasn’t concerned with any of that right now. The only thing he cared about was the woman in his arms, shaking like a leaf as she tried to calm down. For her, he would make the time.

He readjusted his arms around her so that he was hugging her instead, one arm around her waist while the other came up to her shoulders, his hand holding her head against him and stroking her hair. He tried to steady his breathing in a way that she could follow, willing his own heart rate to slow down as he tried to help her calm down.

She wasn’t the only one who had felt like they were endlessly falling. The only difference was, his had been slow and steady, hardly noticing it was happening until it hit him all at once. And he knew he would fall again and again if it meant getting to hold her like this.

#joaquin torres #joaquín torres #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x reader #joaquín torres imagine #joaquín torres x ofc #joaquin torres x ofc #danny ramirez #tfatws #tfatws fic #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel oc #marvel reader insert #tfatws fanfic

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