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ghouljams · 15 days

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You're standing out on the front porch watching the storm roll in. The crank radio crackles with the weather, reporting that the tornado watch has just been upgraded to a warning. You take a sip from the can perched between your fingers and duck your head out from the cover of the porch to squint up at the sky. It doesn't do much more than drench you, but it's good feeling the rain on your skin.

The wind stops. The sky goes green, then black, then the sirens go off. The steadily increasing wail of them sure makes this all feel eerie, especially when the rain starts pounding the side of the house like it owes the weatherman money. Your radio putters to a stop, and you turn to rotate the hand crank. You barely bend down before an arm hooks your waist and you're seruptitiously scooped up and thrown over a very muscular, and well loved, shoulder.

Simon moves in quick, long, strides around the house, uncaring of the downpour when he's so singularly focused on moving you. He kicks open the storm cellar doors and all but throws you down the stairs. Catching the back of your shirt when you stumble to make sure you don't break your neck. You turn to ask him what the big deal is and he gives you a rough, tight, "stay here" before slamming the door in your face.

Wha- you gotta get the fucking generator running, you don't have time to be sitting in the basement!

Ghost grabs the wind up radio off the porch swing and hastily cranks it back to life. Price wanders onto the porch and follows the same motions you did, sipping his beer as he glances up at the sky. "Look at that," Price whistles, just as the wind picks up. You come trudging around the house with a can of gas and Ghost feels his chest tighten.

"What the fuck did I tell you?" He grunts, intercepting you before you can find whatever you're looking for. You're once again tossed over his shoulder and deposited in the cellar where it's safe. Now for the rest of the muppets on this farm.

The dog wriggles when he picks it up, licks his face eagerly and freezes when thunder claps. Only to pick up it's wriggling again in earnest when Ghost passes you, once again out of the safety of the cellar. Ghost grabs the back of your overalls and drags you back to the cellar. He's going to hog tie you. You're not about to get sucked into a tornado if he can help it.

Soap glances out the window as the house starts to shake with the sheer battery of rain against it. He shoves his passport into the bag of necessities he's hastily been throwing together. Christ he doesn't even know what he needs in the event of a tornado. Anything he doesn't want to risk losing, but nothing that he's willing to die for.

Gaz nearly kicks the door open, and Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the noise.

"Steamin' Jesus, ah thought the bloody tornado was in the 'ouse," Soap clutches his heart, switches to clutching the cross around his neck when that doesn't feel like enough. Jesus wept he never jumped so high in his life.

"Price is sittin' on the porch like a fookin' madman," Gaz breathes, the words pouring out of him faster than the rain.

"Where's the doctor, we're gonna need 'er?" Soap asks, suddenly the idea that his captain might be torn asunder seems all too likely.

"It's not the bloody apocalypse," Gaz tells him, shouldering his own go-bag, his eyes as frightened as Soap's rapid pulse, "Just a tornado."

"You are such a fuckin' liar, ahm watchin' the rapture oot there." Soap gesticulates towards the window. Duck stops by Soap's open door and gives the two of them a look.

"Do y'all want a beer for the road?" She asks, unphased by the storm that seems to be bearing down on them. Soap and Gaz stare at her.

"The road?" Gaz asks.

"Thompsons say they saw this thing touch down so I'm gonna try wrestling your captain into the cellar." She shrugs. Soap pales, his eyes dart to Gaz who is already halfway out the door.

"I'm not dying in bloody texas," Gaz grumbles, scooting past Duck, who gives another shrug and follows after him.

Soap starts his hail Marys, may as well get those out of the way.

"-really the proper way to experience God's wrath," you joke. Your arms are tied behind your back, legs tied together as you sit on a little folding chair in the cellar. Soap doesn't laugh. Simon sits with his head in his hands. Gaz's foot taps impatiently on the concrete floor.

"Will you stop being such a man!" Your mother gripes, wrestling with your father as he attempts to wander back up the stairs and out into the world.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know the thing's past us?" Price bites back.

"S'what the radio's for," Simon grumbles.

"Did anyone remember to latch the paddock gate?" You wonder aloud.

"You keep your ass in that seat or I swear to god," Simon glares at you.

"You'll what?" You glare, "tie me up and throw me in the cellar?"

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #captain john price #oc: duck #oc: goose #cowboy au #cowboy!ghost #cowboy!soap #cowboy!gaz #cowboy!price

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cameronspecial · 11 days

Note

Need the rafe and reader locked up in a room 🙏

Don't Stain The Carpet

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Heated Make Out

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

Topper and Kece were sick of the fighting. It was happening all day, every day now and they just wanted it to stop. They might even prefer the days when the two would be caught in a heated makeout session instead of an argument. So, they devised a plan to get the exes on a more cordial playing field. “Dude, I don’t know what’s wrong with it. One moment it’s running fine. The next, it won’t start,” Topper complains, leading Rafe down to the basement. The other boy grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. Just show me where your laptop is. I don’t know why you called me for it. I’m not fucking IT support.” Topper throws him a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “But you are good with computers.” Rafe rolls his eyes, “Stop being a kiss ass. I’m already here.”

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Topper shuts up and steps out of the way so Rafe can pass through first. The tall man thinks nothing of it and enters the finished basement; however, when he is face to face with his ex-girlfriend, suspicion overcomes him. It is too late though because as he turns to leave the room and ream Topper out for this setup, the door is locked behind him. He rushes to the door, trying to open it even though he knows it is locked. “Topper, you little shit. Open this door.” He is met with silence, so he steps away from it and turns toward Y/N. “What are you doing here?” he questions.

She rolls her eyes, “Top said he needed help picking out a gift for his mom. Why are you here?” They both know they have been lied to. It’s obviously from the fact that a laptop isn’t in sight and two separate reasons as to why they are there.

He glares at her. “Oh, you know, Top said I could meet the Queen of England so I thought wow, I gotta get there. Why does it fucking matter? It was a lie.” She scoffs, “See, that. That is why I broke up with you.” He chuckles and runs his hands through his hair. “One. The breakup was mutual. Two. What. What is the reason you ‘broke up’ with me.” She holds out her hand and motions up and down, “Because you are an ass. That’s why. You only care for yourself and that’s it.”

“Oh, please. We both know that isn’t fucking true.”

“Right, sorry. I forgot about drugs and alcohol. Those might be pretty high up your list.”

“STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!”

His yell has her flinching back and he takes a deep breath while running his hand down his face “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” Her arms cross and she stands straighter. “You shouldn’t have,” she chastises. “Look, just because we are locked in here together doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ll go see if a call can get through. I mean we really should’ve seen this coming. His basement doesn’t get any signals.”

With her final mutterance, she storms away from him. Her back hits against the wall and she slides down it. He observes as she pulls her phone out, hearing the familiar music of the cat game she enjoys playing sounds through the room. He smiles at the memory of her turning onto her stomach after an eventful night of love-making to play the game. He would always make fun of her and then rest his chin on her shoulder to watch her play over her shoulder. She used to get so excited when she would find the cat she was looking for. A crease in her forehead forms and he laughs. The noise has her staring at him over her phone. “What?” His hand extends toward her hand, “Didn’t get the cat you wanted?” her gaze flicks down to her phone with a frown. God, she hates how much he knows her. “Yes,” she whispers, slouching in embarrassment.

Silence occurs on them. He shuffles over to the couch and decides to stroll down memory lane. His thumb swipes through the pictures. Her smile is so bright in this one and the sun hits her just right so it adds an extra shine to her eyes. He should’ve deleted all their pictures together when they broke up but he couldn’t bring himself to delete them. So he hid them away in a folder and promised to never look at them again. He hates that a distance has grown between them. He has to fix it.

“The only thing I ever cared about other than myself is you,” he mumbles. “Hmm,” she sounds out, not looking up from her phone. He clears his throat, “I cared- I mean I still care about you. Maybe even more than I care about myself.” He takes a second to think about it. “Actually. I definitely care about you more than myself.” The tone shifts in her room and she puts her phone down. He heads over to her, settling on the floor beside her. She looks him in the eyes and her vision has blurred. “Then why weren’t you there? You promised you would be after all the other things you skipped. The worst thing was that you wouldn’t tell me where you were.” He bites the corner of his lip and reaches into his pocket for his keys. He grows through his keys and holds them out to her, “I was out getting this. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.” She takes the key ring into her hands and a shiny diamond stares back at her. “You were buying me a ring,” she murmurs. He nods, “I wanted to marry you and I know that this wouldn’t have made up for all the other things I missed, but I was hoping it would show you that I was committed to being with you.”

Everything she has felt for him for as long as she has known him comes cropping up and she takes a chance. “Do you still want to marry me?” she questions. His hand rests on her cheek, “More than anything else in the world.” She grins at him with tears leaking out of her eyes. “Then let's get married.” She presses their lips together and swings her leg over him. His fingers lace through her hair, pulling her in closer than possible. As she begins to grind down into him, a loud crash comes from behind him. “I wanted this to work. However, I didn’t want this to work this well,” Topper gripes. Rafe’s eyes narrow at him. “Get out,” Rafe growls at Kelce and Topper, who are standing in the doorway with wide eyes. Kelce and Topper look at each other with a nod. Topper grabs the doorknob and pulls the door closed. “Don’t stain the carpet!” Topper’s voice pleads through the door, causing the newly reunited couple to laugh together.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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rustedhearts · 7 months

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blue christmas (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: it's christmas time, and your boyfriend's traveling the country kicking ass. will he make it home in time—or will you be spending christmas alone?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ christmas carols ✶ main masterlist

tags: christmas!; descriptors for libby's friends but of course, not libby; kinda hurt/comfort (she's just a sad girl!); fluff; alcohol consumption; nothing major.

"i'll have a blue christmas without you. i'll be so blue just thinking about you. decorations of red on a green christmas tree, won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me."

— blue christmas, elvis presley

hawkins, indiana. december 1989.

“I can’t believe you won’t be here.”

The ribboned rubber of the telephone cord curled around your finger. You pouted at the flowered fabric of your bedspread, imagining Steve in a little Christmas sweater he’d never wear—but he’d be here. Cozy, warm, big and bulky under layers of cable-knit.

Christmas was in three days, and your boyfriend wouldn’t even be here.

“I know, angel,” Steve sighed through the phone. “‘m sorry. I wish I could."

And he does. It's your first holiday season together—your first winter full of fluffy white snow, and cold afternoons that make you want to curl up and sleep the days away. It was the season of love and affection; the time of the year meant for nuzzling noses and burying in coats for warmth.

You imagined so many times what the holiday season would look like if Steve were here to stroll through the town square holding your mittened hand. He'd come up for weekends—twice since the beginning of November—but it was never long enough. He'd get in Friday night, and have to leave Sunday morning. You never got to sleep in and feign domestic bliss, tangled in his sheets in the white, early light.

Too many times, Steve kissed your head in a half sleep and whispered his goodbye; a note on his pillow where his head was supposed to be.

Angel,

I'll miss you more than ever.

—Steve

"Me too," you mumbled, pout evident in the huff and puff of your quiet words. You let your chin fall to your arm propped on the edge of your bed, glaring ahead at your wallpaper.

The house fogged with warmth from a home-cooked meal roasting in the oven downstairs. Your mother had a jazzy Christmas tune pipping from the stereo on the counter. Your father—last you checked forty minutes ago—was reading the paper in his armchair beneath the yellow lamplight of the living room. Your brother was somewhere up the street getting into trouble with his friends, driven to boredom without school to keep them busy. You had a Christmas party to attend tomorrow night, and you still hadn't picked an outfit, or wrapped your Secret Santa gift.

"Baby," Steve sighed. "C'mon, don't...don't make me feel bad."

You rolled onto your back. "I'm not, I'm not...I'm sorry."

Commotion clattered behind Steve—hotel doors opening and closing, voices muttering. The bed springs squeaked with his shifting. Your chest ached and squeezed with what you already knew was coming.

"I gotta go, angel...I'll call you later, alright? Be good f' me?"

You pinched your eyes shut, willing the stinging to stop. You nodded without words a moment, and then heard the buzz of his waiting. "Okay...love you."

"Love you too, baby. Bye."

"Blue Christmas" spun on Lisa's turn table in the sunken den of her parent's basement living room. Still stuck in 1975 and decorated by her mother for the sole purpose of hosting cocktail parties, it was the perfect place for Lisa to hold her first "adult" holiday party: pink shag carpet, silver-tinseled Christmas tree, pastel wrapping and perfect bows, and geometric decor of diamonds and stars on the wood-paneled wall.

Lisa, Holly, Tammy (and even yourself) dressed in their best getups, hair and makeup perfected for Polaroids. They already snapped enough to cover the end table, and in every single one, your smile never met your eyes. You were too concerned with ruining Lisa's highly-anticipated party to be a drag, but the lack of Steve really weighed on you.

"Oh, honey," Holly sighed, padding her way over to you. She flopped onto the sofa beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulders. "You miss him real bad, huh?"

You sighed, head falling onto her arm. "That obvious?"

She sipped her (fourth) cocktail—something red and fruity and rimmed with crushed candy cane. "You haven't spoken a word in thirty minutes. It was just a hunch."

"I thought he'd at least...try to be here. I mean, he doesn't have a fight until next week. He could fly back and forth—but maybe that's...not right of me to ask that."

Holly hummed, setting her coupe glass on the Polaroid table. She turned to you, blonde hair neatly curled and pinned on either side, and pursed her glossy mouth.

"It's not too much to ask, hun. If he wanted to be here, he'd be here. He said he loves you, then he wouldn't miss your first Christmas together."

You peered at her, wondering if this were true. From their place near the tree, arranging gifts and flicking through Elvis albums, Lisa and Tammy looked up.

"Oh, that's not true!" Tammy squawked. "He's just busy. They're talkin' about him all the way in New York now."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, stomach twisting. "They are?"

If Steve were truly gaining popularity across the east coast, you had more than just a missed Christmas to worry about. You sensed its arrival—his fame and popularity. Steve was up and coming, and he had an aggression not many fighters had these days. He had the drive, the passion, the determination. You saw it all in his eyes. You knew he wouldn't stop until he was the best, and he wasn't afraid to make the sacrifices necessary to be just that.

And maybe it was selfish of you to want him all to yourself—but you've never felt this way about anyone before. Steve was everything.

"Oh, Libby," Lisa cooed, hurriedly rushing your way. Tammy followed, and soon they were all surrounding you, perched on the sofa and the coffee table.

"It'll be okay! He loves you, it's so obvious. You just have to realize...maybe his career will always come first. You just have to find a way to be okay with that," Lisa offered meekly.

You nodded, but only because your tongue felt like lead in your mouth. The girls glanced at each other momentarily, and then Holly stood in a flash of sparkly, bubblegum pink and glitter.

"Well, to hell with Steve! Let's get drunk and open presents."

The glasses drained themselves, really. The records spun and scratched, the pretty, gilded wrapping paper shred to pieces, and the girls in the den soon became nothing but giggling messes. When you got bored of the music, you turned to the television, turning the knob until you reached a fuzzy, pixelated picture of It's A Wonderful Life, though the static-y voices fell on deaf ears.

"Oh, it's darling, Libby, really," Holly gushed, holding up the pink satin slip you gifted her for Christmas.

Holly was easiest to shop for—she'd be pleased with anything pink, soft, and fancy.

"I'm glad you—hic!—like it. And I love my book, Tammy. It's so beautiful."

The book, a cloth-bound classic, was wine-colored and gorgeous. It was so pretty you didn't even want to put it on the shelf. It would sit on your dresser for a little while to look at.

Lisa gave Tammy a pair of red Mary Janes, and Holly gave Lisa a new set of hot rollers. The remains of the wrapping paper sat in bits and pieces around you on the carpet, and you had to shoo away Lisa's cocker spaniel, Lady, before she ate it all. She trudged into your lap, shedding soft hair over your dress as you stroked her long, floppy ears, watching the pink-flushed faces of your friends through the glowing white light of the Christmas tree.

Despite Steve's absence, you were happy. You had your friends.

The giggles faded when the doorbell rang through the house. Lisa waved it off, peering up the steps of the den toward the first floor. "Probably just a caroler. Ignore it."

But the doorbell rang again. Lisa huffed, and Tammy and Holly giggled as she fumbled up the steps. In her absence, they turned to you, all gushing over each other's presents and asking after more cocktails. They kissed at Lady in your lap and tossed popcorn at her waiting mouth, and you fell in line with the amusement until Lisa's socked feet came flapping into the room.

"Libby, Steve's here."

You weren't sure you heard her right. The giggles dwindled again, and your hand stilled over Lady's head in a half-stroke. Your heart was in your mouth, pulsing dumbly.

"W-what?"

Lisa, out of breath and wide-eyed, had her hands on her hips with an ecstatic smile. "He's here. Steve, he's here—he's waiting outside."

"Well, for God's sake, Lisa, why didn't you invite him in?" Tammy chimed in.

Lisa shot her a glare. "He said he'd wait outside for her! Probably heard your cackling and got too scared to come in."

Holly soothed your friend's sting with a half-hug around Tammy's shoulders, but you were still numb. You carefully scooped Lady up and placed her on the floor, away from the wrapping paper. You pushed to your feet, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. You put your book on the sofa, and turned to your friends still on the floor.

"Do I...do I look alright?"

"Gorgeous, babe," Holly beamed. "Let me just..."

She stood, reaching up to fix your hair. She fluffed it, poofed it, found your purse on a hook near the door and spritzed your perfume at the crown of your head, and under your ears. She handed you your lipgloss and a mirror, and when you were content with the pink-eyed doeness of your appearance, you stepped toward the stairs.

"Go, go!" Lisa ushered you, giving you a nudge.

You steadied yourself on the wall, steps careful and cautious. Those drinks made you a little woozy, but nothing felt as fuzzy as the thought of Steve waiting for you in the snow. He came all the way here, for you. Your cheeks warmed at the very thought. Your stomach crawled its way up to your throat.

You made your way through the house, taking one last glance in the nearest mirror, before pulling open the door.

A cold rush immediately burst into the house, but any thought of shivering fled your mind at the sight of Steve looming before your eyes. Brown leather coat, black sweater, Levi jeans tight at the hips and loose at the calves. He had his hands cupped around his mouth, blowing hot, white air into his palms—but at the sound of your steps, at the scent of you, he stopped.

All you could do, for just a moment, was stare. Three long weeks since you last saw him—those perfect, round hazel eyes, those high, rosy cheeks. The tip of his nose was wind-nipped pink, the tops of his ears blown red. He smelled like vetiver and leather cologne, and he looked beautiful.

"Oh, Steve."

You crashed into his chest, arms wound tight around his stomach. He enveloped you in his own, holding you as close as he could; and the warmth of him immediately melded with yours. You buried your nose into his chest and hummed, eyes pinched shut just to hold onto this. This moment, this scene, this feeling of him so close after so long apart. You didn't want to let go.

"Merry Christmas, angel," he whispered, and then his mouth sat atop your head, pressing it into a kiss.

When the cold got unbearable, you pulled Steve inside. Fingers intertwined and cheeks sore with grinning, you skipped your way back down to the den where your friends feigned innocence despite their heaving breaths.

"Well look who's here," Holly cooed, watching you tug Steve down the steps.

You giggled, tipping into his side, one foot coming to kick up giddily. You felt like a schoolgirl with her very first crush. That's how love should always be, right?

"Steve, you know everyone. This is Lisa, Holly, and Tammy. Girls, this is Steve."

Your friends waggled their fingers in bashful little waves, and Steve lifted a wide palm in hello. You could smell the Marlboros on his coat, see the outline of a new pack in the front of his pocket. His hands were starting to warm up against your own.

"And this is Lady," you cooed, watching the cocker spaniel sniff at Steve's boots.

You dipped down and scooped her up, bringing her up against your chest to wave a tiny paw at Steve. He cracked a sideways smile, reaching out to scratch at her chin. You let her scamper back over toward the girls by the tree, and turned to Steve with your fingers looped together behind your back.

You could barely contain the giddy glee flooding through your body. Steve noticed. He nicked you under the chin with a gentle knuckle, and another small kiss placed on your sticky mouth.

"You girls been drinkin'?" he gruffed, thumb pressing on your bottom lip.

You shrugged. "A little. It's Christmas, Steve."

He hummed, eyeing the dazzled, feminine setup of the room. A mess of pretty paper, tinsel knocked astray, empty coupe glasses and picked-at pigs-in-a-blanket and bowls of snacks, a dog sniffing around for scraps and attention—harmless, he decided. Maybe even sweet.

As if waiting for his approval, and recognizing the submission, Steve turned back to you with a small smile. "Okay."

You took him by the hand again, tugging him toward the tree. "Come on."

But Steve paused, tugging you with just the resistance of his solid stance, snapping back like a rubber-band.

"Wait, honey..." You turned to him, and he reached into the lining of his coat. "Got somethin' for you."

He pulled out a slim, black velvet box. You pressed your lips into a smile and huddled close.

"But, Steve...yours is at home—"

"—shh. Just open it."

You were acutely aware of your friends craning to see over your shoulder from their place on the floor, petting mindlessly at Lady and munching at shortbread. But in this moment, it was just you and Steve. And he watched you intently once he handed over the box, gnawing at his own lip. God, he wanted a smoke. He just wanted you to love it.

You pushed the box open, hinges snapping back to reveal a navy blue satin lining, and a gorgeous golden locket strung inside. An "S" sat etched on the center of an intricately engraved heart, adorned with swirling roses on a delicate chain.

"Oh, Steve." It was all you seemed to be able to say today.

"D' you like it?" he asked, voice edged with worry.

You fingered at the locket, feeling the cool metal. "I love it, Steve. It's gorgeous."

He exhaled. "Good. Lemme put it on."

With fingers too big for such delicate things, he plucked the necklace from its box and pulled the clasp open. You spun around, moving your hair out of the way for his hands. With your back to him, you could properly convey your excitement to your friends, who mirrored your beaming grin with equal delight.

The locket rested perfectly in the center of your chest, and once clasped, you felt it against your skin with your palm.

"Thank you, Steve. I love it so much."

Steve, hands braced on your shoulders, tipped his head and kissed your cheek. "Anything, angel. It's all yours."

Lisa snapped the head of a gingerbread-man cookie off with her teeth, and Holly cooed. Tammy busied herself with the dog.

But you had a band of butterflies in your stomach and a drum line in your chest, and you turned to look up at Steve with nothing but adoration.

"Look inside." He nudged his nose toward the locket again.

Wedging a nail between the hinges, you popped the heart open. A crudely-cut picture of yourself and Steve—so minuscule it would be difficult to discern from a blob if you hadn't recognized the very moment captured in time—sat in a black and white fashion in the heart.

Another smile at Steve, loving and sweet. "Who knew you were so romantic, Steve Harrington?"

He tucked his bruised fists into his coat pockets and shrugged. "I try."

Steve had hours before he had to leave and a plane ticket burning a hole in his back pocket—but it was Christmas, and he'd do anything, even blow off his coach and a team full of people, if it meant seeing your pretty face.

"Merry Christmas, angel."

The softest of kisses shared between warm mouths. Strawberry-cigarette smooches were what life was all about.

"Merry Christmas, Steve."

#rolly!#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington au #steve the hair harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things au #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #boxer!steve

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toxicanonymity · 1 year

Text

night walks 2

1.9k | NSFW | older neighbor!Joel x fem!Reader

night walks 1 or can read alone. night walks master list

After having his way with you in his basement, your creepy neighbor is convinced you'll be back for more. When you're not back soon enough, he takes matters into his own hands. You can barely see the silhouette of Joel Miller's messy hair in the shadows. . . He gently takes the keys from your hand. "You're not gonna need these for a minute, are you now?"

content warnings: nsfw 18+, creepy!perv!dark!joel, drugs, possible dosing, dubcon/noncon, unsafe PIV sex, light dirty talk, light stalking, age gap (unspecified), semi-public, no outbreak.

Joel Miller might be a good fuck, but he's such a creep that your wits win out over your want, and you start to distance yourself from him. You wear earbuds when you walk and pretend you don’t see him.

One night, you feel the slow squeeze of his massive palm on your ass before you hear or see him. You tell him to get lost. He raises his hands in surrender and says, "alright, I won't hold it against you." You look him dead in the eye, not wanting to show any sign of weakness. He looks you up and down and adds, "now, if you want me to hold something else against you. . ." You walk away. "You know where to find me," he concludes. You quicken your pace. He stands there and watches you walk away for what feels like forever, but you never turn around to find out.

He creeps into your fantasies more often than you'd like. It shouldn't turn you on the way he tricked you into his basement then locked you in and had his way with you. But you marvel at his determination and urgency in getting into your pants. He was so sure of everything. Never hesitated. He never for a second doubted it would happen. He was always going to make it happen.

Joel keeps his distance for the next few days, but you always feel uneasy when you pass his house. Truth is, you're less concerned about what he might do and more worried about yourself. A pang of desire shoots through you whenever you see the side entrance to his basement. As the days go on, you find yourself excusing his behavior. He knew you wanted him, he could tell. You could have fought back. At this point, when you catch yourself playing Joel apologist, you stop your night walks altogether to minimize temptation.

Instead of taking a walk around the block to get high, you start lighting up in your side yard after your aunt has gone to bed. You have a camp chair outside your door to the basement.

One night, the first night your aunt is out of town, you get home late and your camp chair is gone. You stand there looking around. You hear the flick of a lighter, then smell weed. You can barely see smoke billow out from under the willow tree, and you can just barely see the silhouette of Joel Miller's messy hair in the shadows. You hit the switch by the door to turn on a dim, flickering light. He's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. More muscular than you remember.

“Thought I might find ya here," he says.

You scoff. “Where I live?”

“Got a new strain. You gotta try it.” He stretches and relaxes back into the chair, extending one leg, rubbing his upper thigh, and letting his hand come to rest right at his package.

“Oh yeah? How many girls you buyin' weed from in your sketch-ass basement?”

“Just you, pumpkin." He looks at the joint in his hand and exhales. "This was contactless pick-up." He chuckles to himself. "C’mon, hit this. . . one time, one little puff. . . then you can tell me to leave.”

"Really?"

"Yup. . . Just wanted to say hi, make sure we’re good."

You turn and look at him skeptically as he puts his hands on his knees and stands up. He's wearing a white t-shirt that stretches over his chest and barely contains his arms. His PJ pants leave little to the imagination. You already know what's beneath them, but you don't need the reminder. The silver in his beard glistens as he smirks at you checking him out.

"Oooh, there's my bad girl." His voice is so gruff and low when he says that. You flush and swallow. Shit.

You turn away again, half facing the door, and shift your weight impatiently. You don't want to open the door while he's there. Best case scenario, he leaves. He holds the joint between two fingers and takes his time creeping up behind you. You smell his sweat and get weak in the knees. To hell with it, you were going to smoke anyway. Saves you the trouble of rolling one.

Joel hovers over your shoulder as he raises the joint to your mouth. You close your lips around it, inhale, and hold. He looks from your eyes to your mouth and back. Then, his hand directs your chin toward him, his lips lay loosely into yours, and he takes your breath as you exhale. Your nipples harden and you ache with an unwanted need. He pinches the joint out and tucks it behind his ear.

You wait a few seconds, only getting wetter as his suspicious weed takes effect. Then, you tell him, "Okay, you can leave now."

Instead, he wraps around you from behind, and it feels far too good. His large hands on your breasts and hips send butterflies to your stomach and downward.

You protest, "You said you'd-"

“Said you could tell me to leave, didn’t say I’d listen.”

“Well, listen.” You sigh. "Please."

His strong arms slowly slither around you. You stand completely still as he slips a veiny, masculine hand into the waistband of your joggers. He inhales your neck and slowly caresses your lower stomach. You squirm in discomfort and he twitches against you through his pants, sending a pang of desire through yours. Then, his hand slides further down your skin, hooking between your legs, and his other hand creeps under your shirt and bra to cup a breast. His thick cock rapidly hardens against you and he grunts softly.

You're wet and throbbing.

"I am listenin’, sugar. I'm still listenin' to those sounds you made with me inside you." Your cheeks burn as his thick digits glide along your dripping seam. "Shoot, I'm listenin' to your body right now."

He takes two shiny fingers out of your pants and holds them up in the flickering light as if you don't already know what his depravity does to you. He separates his fingers, observes the clear string between them, then sucks them, closing his eyes with an "Mmm."

He reaches around you for the door knob, but you intercept him. You're not going to unlock it.

"Alright,” he says. “You don't have to let me in." He grazes the nape of your neck with his nose, then his lips. When he plants his lips on the side of your neck, you softly gasp. He gently takes your keys out of your hand. "You're not gonna need these for a minute, are you now?" He sticks your house key into the lock and leaves them hanging there, a visual reminder that he'll do what he wants. Desire floods your body.

Your lips part but you can't form words. He crowds you up against the door and frees his hard cock from his pants then slides it under your shirt, resting warmly on your bare back while he tugs down your joggers. He flattens three fingers and glides through your folds to your clit again. You moan softly despite your best efforts.

“Damn right,” he says under his breath. He pulls your pants down a little more, then spreads your legs with his knee. He backs up a couple of inches before his torso meets yours again, and the swollen head of his cock prods between your legs. Your hips automatically tilt before you can stop them.

“Attagirl," he whispers. "I know you missed this cock.”

He bends his knees and nudges the tip inside your entrance, lining it up just right, then plunges up into you, grunting into your hair. You gasp and he moans in relief as his girth parts your core.

“Tight fuckin’ pussy,” he breathes, his rock-hard cock resting all the way inside you for a moment.

He retreats slightly. Mouth against your ear, he whispers almost angrily, “Yeah, you want this cock,” then thrusts his full length into you again, his momentum sending you to your tiptoes and flattening your tits against the door. He keeps filling you to the brim, and each time, the tension coils tighter within you. Each time, it’s harder not to moan obscenely, but you won't give him that satisfaction. Each time, the keys jingle in the door, taunting you.

A car comes down the street and slows down in front of your house. Your heart races. You quickly turn off the lightswitch, and it hits you that, Jesus, in your futile effort not to fuck him, you’re getting railed against the outside of the house. You relent. You lean back against him and he stills inside you, with his hands on your hips. You unlock and open the door. He slides out of you and you judge yourself for the emptiness you feel. The air is cold against your dripping seam. You only barely pull up your joggers.

You hardly take one step inside before he shuts the door and pins you up against it, face to face. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot,” he growls as he hikes your shirt and bra over your tits, his hard cock digging into your needy front.

He pulls down your pants again. He lifts one of your legs up and it hooks behind him as he positions himself at your warm, wet hole. Then, his stiff cock invades you. As his girth fills you up, you forget not to moan. Your face heats up and you close your eyes, unable to face him.

You have one foot planted on the ground and one leg wrapped loosely around him, held up by his hand, and he's fucking you against the door, hitting just the right spot inside you. You try not to show it, but it’s all over your face - you’re getting close.

“Yeah, come on this cock.” He plunges into you violently, then stays there, rolling his hips in short strokes, grinding into your clit, thrusting just enough to maintain friction inside and outside at the same time, driving you mad.

“Come for me, baby.”

A reluctant, ragged moan falls out of your mouth. You flatten your back and hands against the door as you come, and he thrusts into you harder with a grunt.

He breathes, “Fuck yeah, baby,” and slams into you. You feel him pulse and say, “wait, no,” not wanting his cum inside you. He pulls out just slightly then slams into you again, his cock pulsing harder, filling you with warmth, and extending your climax. You squirm and he holds you still, emptying his balls in enormous bursts that make you come harder. He pins you up against the door, cups your cheek, and kisses you as you both finish coming.

After he pulls out, he puts his dick away and reaches into your pants with two fingers, collecting his spend off your inner thigh. He looks at his cum, disappointed. “Well, there’s always more.” He slaps it up against your pussy and massages you with flattened fingers. He smirks as he draws an aftershock and a moan out of you.

“Let’s do this the easy way next time, pumpkin.” He braces his hand against the door as he leans in and kisses you with an unnerving tenderness on the mouth. He raises his eyebrows and adds, “Unless this is what gets you off.”

tagging people who asked about a pt 2 or wanted on tag list @st4rb0y27 @sexygaypalpatine @mrknifes @borntodogreatthings @silkiers @jbcalway

Thank you for reading! your interaction is always appreciated too! 💐

Night walks 3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #creepy!joel #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #perv!joel #perv!joel miller #pervy!joel #pervy!joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #toxicanonymity ☠️#night walks!joel #toxicnightwalks #nightwalks☠️

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webslingingslasher · 8 months

Note

What if trouble was having like a crisis at a party or something, maybe like a panic attack and she either hides in a bathroom or runs to someone like Ethan or one of her friends and Peter finds her and is like ??? You didn't feel like you could come to me? And this is during the situationship so she feels like it's nothing more than sex or he's made it clear that's all he wants yk <3

you've been giving peter the cold shoulder all night.

you swore things were fine, but once you had a couple drinks in you, the annoyance of last week's argument hung over your head. peter knows it too. he's tried to be extra nice tonight, but you made sure to stay clear of him until you needed a refill.

'you wanna come hang with me and ethan for a sec?'

'nope, thanks for the drink. talk to you when i need a new one.'

the night took a drastic turn when you slipped away for the bathroom, finding yourself bouncing between bodies and flashing lights, vape clouds and screams, you break free and heave for air.

you tried to find solace in the bathroom, but you never noticed how small it felt. focusing on deep breaths until someone pounds on the door, 'hurry up! i need to pee!' it's a whined out by a person significantly more drunk than you.

there was no comfort or quiet where you went, your only option was backing up into a corner and holding a hand over your chest, doing your best to keep your heart from beating out.

you weren't sure how long had passed, but you felt like you had lead feet. everything was too much and you were shutting down, even if you wanted to move and make a break for peter's room, or the basement, you were stuck.

ethan finds you in a dark corner in the back of the house, he's unsure what you're doing at first, approaching like normal, his hand rubs your shoulder.

'doin alright, trouble?' when you gasp for air he tries to find your face, 'hey, you okay?'

you shake your head, 'i think i'm having a panic attack but i... i don't know why.' you lean into ethan’s touch as you slowly sink to the floor.

'shit, i... hey, want me to go get parker?' he's already moving, you pull at his hand. 'no. no, get ally or, or prince.' you tuck your face in your knees, doing your best to breathe deeply, while ethan looks for a friend.

skating between bodies, he finds ally. she's with paul, who's with parker. doesn't matter, you're about to explode and you need her.

'ally, you gotta- ally we need to go. right now.' the urgency has her stepping forward, 'why? where are we going?' ethan breathes out your name, 'she's freaking out, i dunno. she said to get you.'

peter steps up, 'woah, what's going on?'

ethan has no time for it, he tugs on ally's arm, 'we gotta go.' ally sends peter a soft shrug before she's doing her best to keep up with ethan.

peter get's an achy feeling before following both of them, ally's already on her knees in front of you patting your hair. ethan's chewing on his nails when he notices peter, 'panic attack.'

it's all he needs to hear, peter crouches to your level. 'hey, trouble. want me to get you somewhere quieter?' your hand reaches for his on the floor, patting around until he holds it out for you. 'is that a yes?'

your breath is racing, your heart pounding, the noise is piercing and you can't move. you refuse to cry at a party in front of everyone, it’s why you're keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

you hate that he's here, that he's watching it go down, but you're so very thankful he's able to carry you to safety.

'i'm gonna pick you up, okay? i'm going to take you up these back stairs and into my room, is that okay?' you hold ally's wrist in your other hand. 'ally can come, she can stay the whole night in there with you, if you want.'

the tiniest of nods sent peter to move quicker than he ever has. he tapped your knees so you could stretch them down, an arm wrapped under your thighs and one behind your back, he secured you into his hold as he lifted you.

your hands clenched his shirt, it was less about it being peter and more to do with grounding yourself. tucking your head into his chest when he took the stairs two at a time.

'i'm rounding the corner, trouble. ally, wanna get the door for me?'

when his bedroom door shuts behind you it's dark, the music muffles. your heart rate lowers, it's like you can breathe better, no longer fighting to keep air.

peter gently sets you on his bed before crossing over to his windows, ripping the curtains open to let the moonlight fill his room. it's bright enough you can see everything.

ally holds you to her chest, 'oh my goodness, did you see something, or hear something?'

peter shakes his head, 'she was overstimulated.' your eyebrows furrow in ally's shirt, not even you had made that connection, but he did.

'ally,' peter didn't want to sound like a prick, but, 'maybe...' he made a pushing motion with his hand. 'maybe give her some space, just for a second.' she steps away, you feel so relieved from every ounce of pressure you had downstairs, you flop backwards onto peter's bed and sigh.

seconds pass, you feel embarrassed after breaking down in front of peter, especially when he made it clear he was in no rush to be your boyfriend, if ever.

you raise your head up to look at him, 'overstimulated, huh?' peter shrugs, 'i've been there too a few times.'

ally sat on the bed next to you, 'want me to play with your hair?' when peter said it, you felt it. you wanted to be alone in a dark room, maybe not totally alone, but you wanted someone who would just sit there until you needed them.

'um,' you stop her hand gently, 'would you mind if i said i kinda want to hang out with peter instead?' ally quickly stands, 'oh no, not at all! i totally get it, sometimes no one can comfort me like matty. text me if you need me, okay?'

you nod and wait until the door clicks, you pat the bed, waiting until peter sits before you talk.

'sorry. this is probably weird for you. i just know you don't care enough to talk to me or touch me so, you know, just chill here unless i quit breathing or something.'

you can hear nothing but muffled bass and shouts downstairs, it's a comfortable silence.

'hey, trouble, can i talk to you about something?' you hum in response, you can almost hear him thinking.

'i know you put a lot of emphasis on the boyfriend thing, and i know you hate it when i avoid it. but, i'm just not there yet. and i hate that dumb 'it's not you, it's me' stuff, but it is.'

you stay silent.

'and... i know i say dumb stuff a lot, but you are so much more than just a hookup to me. so when you hit me with the you don't care, it really, really hurts my feelings. because, i care about you a lot. i mean, i'd... i'd do anything for you. and i know that doesn't seem like a lot, but for me, that means everything.'

you know he's trying, but that conversation from weeks ago still holds a sour taste on your tongue. you mumble the words with grit, 'yeah, do anything except dumb boyfriend shit.'

'stop.'

'you said it, captain. not me.'

you can feel the frustration brewing in his chest.

'you push and push and when i finally open up you throw back something i said during a fight and under pressure. would it be fair that everytime you compliment me, i follow it up with a 'oh, but do you really? because the other week you called me a fucking coward.'

silence. you don't like when he's right.

'i know you didn't get the answer you wanted, and i'm sorry, but you can't bully me into a relationship. it just doesn't work like that.'

you know it doesn't, but it makes you feel a little better. sometimes dogpiling on peter makes you feel level footed, even if it's only for a second before he's making you feel guilty.

'i just want more, peter. and i don't mean that in a 'keep pressuring you into being my boyfriend' way. i don't know how to explain it.'

peter nibbles at his bottom lip, 'can you try?'

'i just want you to talk to me, and tell me things about yourself, or your childhood. i want you to tell me about the things that made you laugh that day, or show me your interests, or hobbies or really anything that's past surface value.'

you follow up with, 'i think i just want to know i have your commitment.'

you're glad you can't see his face, he's too quiet, you think this is the part where he officially breaks it off.

'you did a good job at explaining it.' his dismissal is enough to send you screaming and running, but he adds more before you could move.

'you have my commitment, trouble. i don't want anyone else but you, and if we need to have the conversation now, i'm off limits. i have been for a while, i'm sorry if i haven't made that clear.'

tilting your chin you get a glance of him, 'off limits?'

peter crosses out his body, 'trouble only zone. i'm talking about no flirting, deleting dm requests, harsh rejection and absolutely no touching.'

'trouble only?'

peter's shoulders drop in relief when the previously unrecognized tension lifts from the room.

he nods, 'only trouble can hear about my day, and childhood, and my hobbies. and touch, trouble can touch as much as she wants, whenever she wants.'

peter has one more thing to add.

'trouble, if i'm going to be anyone's boyfriend, i'm gonna be yours.'

he knows how to keep you latched. it works like a charm. but you can't let him know that.

'hm, if i'm gonna be anyone's girlfriend, i might be yours.'

'then i might be the luckiest guy in the entire world.'

you hum, his admittance made you warm. kicking your shoes off you wriggle higher unto his bed, 'sorry, no more party for me tonight. i'll get a ride home later.'

peter's busy moving closer to you in the sheets, 'you can stay here tonight.' his bed is ultra soft, you don't know how he's able to leave it in the morning. 'tempting, but i'm not in the mood to bang tonight.'

'good, neither am i.' you snort, 'really?' peter nods in your peripheral, 'it takes two to tango, trouble.'

it's calm, then he asks softly, like he's scared of you rejecting him, 'do you wanna cuddle?' your head turns, he's just as breathtaking in the moonlight.

you're already scooting back into him, 'really? don't you have a party to attend?' peter wraps his arms around you, tugging you close and tight, he wouldn't let you slip away if he could help it.

'nah, i'd rather tell you all about my aunt may.'

#uni extras #frat!peter fics

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small-sinclair · 1 year

Note

Hii!!

Sinclair brothers react about it's time to wake up but S/O don't want to get up just want to stay in bed and sleep

Thank you and have a good day!!!❤️

Hewo, friend! Thank your for the request :3

I'm also going to add Reggie and Brahms, too.

Slashers with an s/o that doesn't want to leave bed.

Bo: Snuggles

"Darlin', I know ya hate mornin's but ya need to let go of my arm," he drawls, tapping your shoulder to let go. "I got things to do, an' I need your help wit' puttin' up a new welcome sign."

Y/n's hand takes Bo's arm and pulls it back into their grasp. They sigh tiredly and drift back to sleep. Bo just signs and lays back down with them and nuzzles into their chest. "Okay, honey. Twenty more minutes an' we move."

Bo said this about two hours ago. Now, he and his s/o are snuggled under the covers once more, Bo kissing their head and hands. Maybe it's a good idea to take the morning off.

Vincent: Works anyways

He knows you don't get up right away, and he's okay with that. Vincent is already dressed and working on his art when you stumble out of the little bedroom off the side of the basement and lean against him. Vincent knows you stay up late sometimes with your own work, but he just wants your to feel well rested with everything. He looked over as you rest your head on his shoulder. Both of you listen to the opera music play as you watch him work with his hands.

He puts his tools down and pats his lap, motioning for you to sit. You do, and he holds your waist as you play with his hair.

"Sorry I slept in later," you whispered, sleep still hanging in your voice.

He shakes his head as he starts rubbing your back. At least you're somewhat awake for him to give you some loving by kissing your hand and cheek, his lone eye admiring your sleepy-filled eyes.

Lester: Passenger Royalty

He was able to wiggle out of your grasp and get dressed to leave for work. He normally leaves before the sun comes up, so he knows you won't be awake. Today is different, however.

Lester wakes you up with kisses and nudging your gently like a puppy. "Sweet pea? Do ya wanna wake up?"

"No," you murmur as you started back to sleep.

He raises a brow and kisses your forehead. "How 'bout ya come wit' me today? If we leave now, we can get that fast food breakfast ya lik'?" He kisses you again. "An' Starbucks from the next town over? Headin' 'at way anyhow 'cause I gotta report from the sheriff two deer down."

You think it over. "C'n I be in my fuzzy pants all day? And not leave the truck?" You asked, blinking some sleep away.

"Be my passenger royalty, darlin'," he conformed. "Deal?"

You smile sleepily and kiss him sleepily. "Grab my blanket and pillow, too. I might sleep."

Brahms: The Nervous

Brahms gets scared when y/n doesn't get up at their normal time. He moves from his room and goes through the wall tunnels to find them still in their bed with the covers over their head. He saw this once when he was younger when someone was sick and dying.

Brahms comes to y/n's side of the bed and shakes them slightly. "Wake up," he whispers. "Please, wake up? Get up?" His child voice fills the dusty air as his nerves take over. "Why aren't you getting up?"

Y/n stirs and parts their eyes. Without saying anything, they pulls Brahms into their chest and lay them back down in bed.

"Y/n sick?" Brahms ask.

"No," they answer as they start going back to sleep. "Just a lazy day." Y/n looks down at Brahms and carefully takes off his mask to steal a kiss. "Does Brahms wanna join y/n on this lazy day?"

Even though it doesn't go in his normal schedule, Brahms nods and snuggles into their arms, sighing softly. They should have more lazy days.

Reggie: Comes back and Joins

Reggie wakes up and kisses your forehead. You normally wake up with him, but he noticed that you were extra tired today from last night's date. He smiled in your hair and kisses you once more, causing you to follow his lips to kiss him back.

"Go'morning, honeydew," he says lightly. "I gots some deliveries ta do. Promise 'll be back by lunch."

"Bring food?" You murmur, kissing his arm. "Please?"

He smiles and rests his head against yours. "Reckon so, beauty." HE looks at the clock then back at you. "I promise ta bring bac' sum burgers and curly fries from 'at dinner yous like." Reggie squeezes your head the sits up to leave.

When he comes back and sees you still in bed, he'll smile and place the bags on the counter. He takes off his boots and hands his hat before climbing in bed and pulls you into his chest, kissing your head. Soon, he joins you and drifts back to sleep, holding you close.

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generalpalacefishgoop · 5 months

Text

Bad reveals to Pomme about Ron

[TRANSCRIPT]

2029629791

Ghostie :"What happened to Ron?"

Bad :"Um...poor Ron. We need to visit him. He's been alone."

Pomme :"Who?"

Bad :"Oh um, yeah Pomme, did I tell you about the federation worker that I kidnapped?-"

Pomme :"?????"

Bad :"-while you guys were kidnapped? Oh yeah, so uh basically I kidnapped a federation worker. Locked him in the basement in our house in a little dungeon and um.. fed him nice meals of chicken."

Pomme :"WHY THO"

Bad :"Oh yeah I was trying to get information, like I thought the Federation had kidnapped you. This was before it turned out that they hadn't kidnapped you....but I didn't know that was the case. So, in my defense......anyway...um point is, kidnapped him, held him in our house for a little bit.."

Pomme :"Nah fair enough"

Bad :"Yeah, that's what I'm saying, that's what I'm saying...then um basically....yeah...eventually...he kinda became family...and I let him go...well...that's not true, I didn't let him go, I still couldn't risk him like telling the Fed about what was going on...so uh....-"

Pomme :"Okay wdym family now 0_0"

Bad :"Yeah no he's kinda family now, but he's in a house somewhere. I put him in a little farm. That's not like a saying, like "put him on the farm" and meaning like I killed them, that's not what I mean, I put him on an actual tiny farm that's very cute, I built it. Um...and then lo and behold, got you guys back, showed him to Dapper, and uh yeah, they became "friends"-ish, I think. Eh yeah fun, its a fun little romp, but he's kinda been alone there for a while."

Pomme :"Can we really trust him? D:"

Bad :"Well...Pomme...that's kinda why...he's still...anyway that's kinda why...he is still...-"

Pomme :"mhm?"

Bad :"-on the farm, cuz can I really trust him, I mean I'm pretty sure I can...I don't think he would betray us, but the problem is Pomme, he gets kidnapped...by the Fed again...reveals like info...-

Pomme :"yeaaaaaaah"

Bad :"-about the location...about the fact that I kidnapped him...anyway it just creates this giant pain in the butt. That's just not worth it. So-"

Pomme :"kinda got yourself in annn interesting situation it's the least we can say"

Bad :"Yeah, he's gotta stay kidnapped for a liiiiitle bit longer. But I think he likes it, on one hand, I think he kinda likes being kidnapped um...nah that's not true he doesn't like it at all, um yeah its the least we can say. Exactly, its like "Hey buddy, as soon as we take down the Federation or they agree not to punish and/or kill me...well...try to kill me..for any wrongdoing, then we're golden!

Pomme :"lmao can they kill you?"

Bad :"uh...I mean it hasn't happened yet, Pomme...knock on wood...um but theoretically, Pomme, they could lock me up, which would kiiind of suck. Yeah, getting locked up is kind of on my "no" list of things I'd rather not have happen."

Pomme :"Nahhh we would free you"

Bad :"Yeah no that would- I hope you would free me. I know you and Dapper like to watch a lot of TV and so it might seem fun to keep your father locked away but-"

Pomme :"I'll go to war against them if needed"

Bad :"Aww, thank you, Pomme. I appreciate that. Hopefully, that doesn't come to pass...but at least I know I can count on you and Dapper. Just make sure you guys are taking care of yourselves."

"You know the worse part is, Pomme, even if, today I had been there, or even if, I had the NINHO 2.0 the egg basket egg carton set up today er yesterday, it still wouldn't have saved Empanada. That's the horrible thing, cuz I would've had to get them all set up today. Urgh that's suuuucks. Urrrrrggh."

Pomme :"I mean. I meannnnn. U know me"

"It'll still prevent future accidents"

Bad :"Everything's gonna be ok."

Pomme :"I meannnnn I'll go to war to save any of the people I love you already know that"

Bad :"No I know Pomme, I know... (continues building and stops) Urrggghh I'm so done, all the death, all the pain, all the suffering."

Pomme :"I'm so upset :D They will pay :D"

#qsmp #q!badboyhalo #qsmp badboyhalo #qsmp pomme

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jungle-angel · 7 months

Text

Two Numbskulls and a Kitchen (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's clearly a bad idea for Bob and his dad to have free reign of your kitchen......or is it?

"Alright hon, you want a hot coffee or something?" Irene asked you.

"Nah, I've gotta keep drinking water," you told her. "If I drink any kind of coffee, baby girl won't sleep at all."

Irene laughed. "She's not even here yet and she's already causing havoc."

You enjoyed the ride home with your mother-in-law, your unborn daughter kicking up a storm in your belly and the two of you laughing at what kind of trouble Auggie and Patrick were causing at Jake's house. The music coming from the bluetooth speaker in the truck was suddenly interrupted by a call from Bob, a rather unusual occurrence at this hour.

"Hey Bob," you answered.

"Hey is momma driving?"

"Yeah I'm driving, why?" Irene asked.

"Um.......we um......we've got a bit of a problem."

You and your mother-in-law gave each other "the look."

"What the hell did you two do?" Irene asked.

"Momma....."

"Don't you 'momma' me buster," Irene told him sternly. "What did you two do in that kitchen?"

Bob didn't answer. The only sound was Joe in the background loudly telling him something indiscernible.

"We'll be home in ten," you told him.

"Gotcha sweetie, love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up and one look at your mother-in-law told you it was a bad idea to laugh. "I'm gonna kill those two when we get home," Irene mumbled.

You snorted and laughed.

When you pulled into the driveway, Irene helped you out of the truck, the both of you carrying the last minute Thanksgiving supplies into the house. You didn't smell anything burning which was a good sign, but the sight of Joe with his hand wrapped in a dish towel said otherwise.

"Oh what did you do?" Irene questioned. "What did you do?!"

"Baby I can explain," Joe answered, trying not to laugh.

"Joseph Lowell Floyd....."

"Ya'll can look at your son's phone and see the evidence," Joe chuckled.

Irene held out her hand and Bob immediately gave her his phone. She scrolled through the camera roll to find photo after photo of Bob and Joe screwing around in the kitchen. The one of Joe in a hockey mask wielding a butcher knife and Bob playing dead was worthy enough for next year's Halloween party, but the one of them in Reagan's surgical gear and taking out the turkey guts had her going wide-eyed.

"This still doesn't explain how you sliced your finger," she said.

"Keep going you'll find it," Bob told her.

Sure enough there it was, the quickly snapped sequence of photos that told the whole story.

"Un.....believable," Irene groaned.

You, Bob and Joe couldn't help but laugh. "You still love me baby?" Joe asked her.

"Joe, I love you to death but this is getting ridiculous," Irene answered.

"So does that mean I still get nookie tonight?" Joe asked.

"Yeah but your balls will be busted by the time I'm done with you," Irene chuckled.

You and Bob both let out loud disgusted groans. The last thing you wanted to imagine was your in-laws doing the dirty in the little basement apartment they shared.

Irene drove Joe to the emergency room, leaving you both home alone, curled up on the couch and watching one of the Charlie Brown specials. "Babes?" he said.

"Hmm?"

"Remind me never to let my dad get into the beer in the back of the fridge," Bob chuckled.

"That's what this was about?" you laughed.

"Two for the chefs, one for the dish," Bob answered.

You snuggled into Bob, your head resting on his chest and relaxing into his warmth as his hand came to rest on your bump. This certainly would be a memorable Thanksgiving, if anything else.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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dinaanana · 5 months

Text

What If Verlaine Trained Teenager!Reader?

the Character is from Stormbringer Novel

synopsis: Fluff/Crack

Paul Verlaine x Teenager!Reader (Platonic!)

(He's so pretty)

(Pretend you're Also a stormbringer Character aswell)

So first of all This Man is strict asf. so Brace Yourselves

(Didn't he also Train Kyouka and Gin? Yeah)

There's no problem with training you either

If you already know Any type of Martial Arts or MMA he's Glad to hear that.

When he Looks at you working out and f you do Something he doesn't like? You get the exercises wrong? He's making you Do 50 Push ups 50 Sit Ups and yeah☠️

And if you're still lazy Then you'll be doing 100 instead of 50 (He is really nice isn't he)

(Obv he trains You in his musty ass Basement)

Sometimes Chuuya Watches As His big Brother Trains you He's just Standing there like 🧍 while you're fighting for your own Life

And when you look at him with Tired eyes and drenched In sweat Asking for Help? he just Smirks and Shakes his Head

Verlaine doesn't care about Your age if you're young or not if you think that you're young and he's gonna go easy on you Nah you're wrong .

You're Training to be an Assassin for the Port mafia. After all

Not only he teaches you martial arts but he also teaches you how to use A gun a Knife Anything for self defence

''Oh my god I'm tired'' You whine as you Lay on your back all sweaty and breathing heavily

'Did I hear something?'' He Looks down At your lying form

''I- no-'' You know what's coming Next.

''Im not deaf,You're doing 100 push ups and 100 sit ups Right now.'' He Says in Stern tone with his French accent

We also Know that To become an Assasin you have to get used to Alot of Gore.

I mean You gotta see some Gorey shit everyday You're a Mafioso After all.

Training with him is Bit Intense

But you'll become Stronger and It boosts your confidence Everyday Around other Ppl soo It's worth it 100%

You're literally being trained By king of Assassin's how could you not be strong I mean.. you can knock Down 10 Grown men With Just Using your fists

After Years of training He asks you to have Hand to hand combat With Him

Well you put up A great right but you still lose ''You may not win against me But you put Up a great fight.Thing The Members older than you in Port Mafia can't do..'' He Says

(Bro the things I'll do To be trained by This Man omg I don't mean it cuz I simp for him and not in A creepy way tho☠️)

After Training for like Years You go on your first Mission and guess what

When you come back With the mission accomplished

You go down in the basement to tell him the News but he already knows That,Ge Comes near you looking down at you and He Pats u on Shoulder ''Good Job.'' with His French accent.

He's like a Proud dad when his Kid Gets high score in elementary school omg

He also Tells you to read books (If you don't like reading them) He'll tell you That Assasin Are suppose to be Smart and not dumb Like you (Not to Insult you just to Get you to read Them)

You agree after that and ask him what type Of books you shall read and he Suggest you to read Some detective Books By Some Authors Like Agatha Christie and etc.

And if you already read Alot of books? he praises you and tells you you're doing Great

(Except If you read Wattpad stories ☠️)

Anyways

Training with him is Amazing but Very I mean very exhausting even thought you Barely Can walk after all the Exercises and Training

Id rate him

10/10 tho

#bsd x you #bsd stormbringer #paul verlaine #bsd verlaine #verlaine x reader #sigma bungou stray dogs #bsd fandom

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sincerely-sofie · 1 month

Text

Chapter 6 of Sofie Plays "Slay the Princess": The Princess and the Hero (Round 2) + The Witch

Gotta experience 'em all!

[ Beginning ] - [ Previous Part ] - [ Next Part ]

I meant to pick up the blade but misclicked and entered the basement. Even so, we got some new dialogue! Pretty sure I needed to pick up the dagger to get a new Princess, but I might just continue this route for the sake of flavor text :>

Asked the princess warily what we would do if I couldn't find a key to free her, and she whipped out the "Maybe we could cut me out of them! :)" idea so fast guys I'm having flashbacks,

THE FLASHBACKS ARE INTENSIFYING

Don't worry, Princess! I'm sure we'll figure out a way to get out of GOOD GLORY NOT AGAIN. PRINCESS I HOPED YOU WERE KIDDING ABOUT CUTTING YOURSELF OUT OF THE CHAINS. COULD YOU HAVE WAITED A SECOND UNTIL THE KNIFE POPPED INTO THE ROOM SO THAT IT COULD BE A LITTLE LESS GRUESOME?

*cartoon dog voice* This is fine :)

Hey, Narrator? What the FRICK do you mean by that? Mister disembodied, no-hands-having, secret-keeping voice? Are you going to drive me mad with constant demands that I kill the Princess? Too bad that I'm not going to. Hopefully you can manipulate the environment somehow to make the basement collapse on us, because I'm not going to hurt---

... Oh.

New chapter. I guess.

I can already tell I don't like my new brain buddy.

THE MIRROR IS BACK!!!! aaaand it's gone the second I try to clean it. We aren't getting any mirror selfies today.

Oh my worrrrrd Opportunist you sleazy, conniving kiss-up. Ughhhhh

GEE WILLICKERS, NARRATOR IT'S ALMOST AS IF I TELL PEOPLE THE WHOLE TRUTH, UNLIKE CERTAIN CHARACTERS WHO SHALL GO UNNAMED.

At the very least, there isn't any dismemberment involved this time.

NARRATOR! THERE'S ANOTHER WEIRD CAT IN THE BASEMENT!

Is the achievement title a reference to that fable about the Frog and the Scorpion?

Welp. She's playing chicken. We're stuck down here. I decided to just accept it and wait.

Just realizing that the narrator has a capital H when referred to with third person pronouns, and I'm too busy noticing the red at the edges of the screen to consider it for very long.

Alright. The cabin has vanished around us. Is it time for arms to erupt from the aether and absorb the Witch?

Huh. Very anti-climactic.

What the HECK does "you've grown" mean?????

Okay, okay. the Long Quiet is definitely a location. But I'm not convinced it isn't also a character of sorts. It feels like it has some kind of goal, but I can't tell what.

It's the start of a new chapter, and I chose to leave the cabin behind me this time. I kept looping back around to the cabin, but surely I got turned around or something in the forest. That's normal. I'll just keep trying.

THIS IS NO LONGER NORMAL.

OKAY THEN. SEE YOU IN THE NEXT POST. I GUESS.

#slay the princess #stp #sofie liveblogs stuff

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grandeoatmilklatte · 10 months

Text

Frogs and Snogs 🐸 (Garreth x F!MC)

Another beautiful Weasley Wednesday! The theme this week was "Trapped" I definitely struggled with this one, but was hit with an idea super late last night and tried to bust this out as quickly as possible, so apologies if it seems a little messy. This is 90% shameless smut, so enjoy!

NSFW/18+ Smut! Characters are aged up and over 18. Please don't engage if you are under 18!

Frogs and Snogs - Garreth Weasley x Female MC - second person perspective (1.7k words)

Summary - You and Garreth find a curious little hiding spot, but find yourselves trapped. You decide to make the best of it.

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This wasn’t the first time you and Garreth had gone off exploring hidden places within the castle. You actually did it quite frequently, finding new hiding spots to fool around in all the time. The two of you had to get sneaky now that you lost privacy privileges to the Room of Requirement after Professor Weasley caught you once. You tried not to bring that incident up very often, as it was admittedly more embarrassing for Garreth than it was for you. You were only caught by a Professor, but he was caught by his aunt, and while you both received detention for being caught with his head between your legs, he also received a stern talking to about the dangers of premarital activities. Ever since then, Professor Weasley had declared Deek your personal babysitter, never giving you a moment alone in the Room.

So that’s how the two of you ended up in the situation you were currently in.

You were on your way to potions class together, and found one of those frog statues that seemed to work like Floo Powder locations, transporting you from one place to another. You had utilized these before, finding yourselves in hidden basement areas where you’d take advantage of the privacy, so it wasn’t a new discovery. You had a few minutes before class, and Garreth was eager to see where it led, deciding that you would check it out real fast, go to class, and then come back to it when class was over, as Garreth hated missing potions class. So the two of you gave a quick glance around to your surroundings before jumping into the frog’s mouth. You found yourselves in a storage closet, but a larger storage closet than you were used to. It appeared to be a wand storage room, boxes of wands strewn about and wands mounted on the walls.

“Well this is a new one!” Garreth exclaimed, looking around. “I wonder where that door goes!” He made his way over to a door in the back of the room, but panicked when he opened it.

“What’s in there?” you asked, curious about what your boyfriend had found, not actually looking at him as your eyes explored the room as well.

“This…this door leads to a huge drop. It leaves you in the corridor, but I imagine this could be dangerous if you weren’t paying attention!”

You approached Garreth, seeing the drop for yourself. He was absolutely right, the door did open to a significant drop, surely one would have broken their ankles if they fell from this height onto the stone floor of the castle.

“Merlin, that’s dangerous!” You said as you took a step back from the ledge. Garreth closed the door as you continued speaking. “This room is an interesting little hiding spot, though!”

“Indeed. Maybe we should…find our way back here after class so you can play with my wand in this wand room.” Garreth gave you a sultry wink. You giggled in response, heat already starting up in between your legs. “I’d like that very much. Now let’s get to class.”

You approached the frog statue and tapped it as normal, waiting for it to open its mouth, but nothing happened. You tapped it several times, but it didn’t move. There was no other frog statue you could have mistaken it for, and this was the way you had come in through.

“Garreth, it’s not working…” You said with a nervousness in your voice.

“There’s gotta be an exit somewhere!” Garreth was undeterred, eager to find you a way out, but after several minutes of searching, you discovered your only way out was either through the door with the drop, or the frog, which wasn’t working.

“Garreth, I think we’re trapped in here!” There was panic in your voice, having no idea how you were going to escape this room uninjured.

“Hey, it’s okay! Maybe we can make the best of it!” He gave you a knowing look, but you were far more concerned with your predicament to be aroused.

You gave Garreth a smack on his shoulder. “Be serious! How are we supposed to get out of here?!”

Garreth placed his hands on your shoulders, running them up and down and gazing lovingly into your eyes. He typically did this when you were stressed or nervous. It was a sure-fire way to calm you down. “Sweetheart, if anything we’ll flag someone down from up here, have them find one of our friends and get us out of here. For now, we’re alone. Let’s make the best of it.” He began to plant kisses on you as he finished his sentence - on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your jaw, and then your neck, where he lingered for a bit, alternating between kissing, biting and sucking.

You moaned in response, your inhibitions and nervousness falling to the wayside as you allowed him to back you into the wall as he continued his assault on your neck. He then moved to your lips, pulling you into a steamy snogging session.

His hands began to glide down your body as you kissed, and you felt like your body was on fire. His gorgeous hands began to unbutton your blouse, his emerald green eyes locked on your face as he did it. Your heart fluttered, as it did every time the two of you got intimate together. Your hands went for his trousers, as you started unbuttoning them. “Someone’s eager!” He giggled. “Oh shut up!” You said as you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

Within a few minutes you were both undressed, your lips still entwined. Garreth slowly began to sink to his knees, kissing down your body as he did so. His lips latched on to each of your nipples, sucking and lightly biting them. His hands replaced his lips as he began to kiss down your stomach, your nipples being rolled between his fingers. Moans left your throat the entire time, although you tried to remain conscious of your noises considering you were right above the school hallway, and there likely wasn’t much sound proofing up here.

Finally, Garreth was fully on his knees. He looked up at you, eyes and smile wide, as he grabbed your leg and hooked it over his shoulder. You rested your palms on the wall, bracing yourself for what he was about to do to you.

He dove right in, spreading your folds with his fingers and licking a long stripe up before his lips locked onto your clit, swirling his tongue around it. Your hands flew up to your mouth as you tried to muffle the sinful sounds that fell from your lips. Garreth was letting out his own muffled sounds as he moaned at the taste of you, his moans sending vibrations up your stomach. He had one hand resting on the thigh that was on his shoulder, supporting you, while his other hand was working his cock as he slowly stroked himself. You felt like you could cry from how good this felt.

Within minutes, you could feel your orgasm approaching, your hands coming down from your mouth to latch on to his hair and push him further into you. Your moans were free to fall, and fall they did, the small room filling with the sounds of your pleasure. You no longer cared who heard you up here. Garreth’s groans also got louder as well. He was intoxicated by your taste, ready to orgasm himself.

“Garreth! I’m so close! Please don’t stop!”

He opened his eyes, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. He followed your request, not stopping, but instead taking his hand off of himself and bringing it up to you, sliding two fingers into you. He continued his mouth work as he finger fucked you, both actions making you feral.

Your orgasm hit you hard with a scream of Garreth’s name. Your hands came back to rest on the wall as you felt your other leg shaking, ready to give out at any second. Garreth grabbed your leg and brought it back down to its original position after a few moments of allowing you to come down from your orgasm and that was when you noticed it. Garreth had reached his orgasm as well, the evidence of it on the floor.

“Aw! I’m sorry baby! You should have warned me! I could have taken care of that for you.”

Garreth chuckled. “It’s okay love, making you cum was all I cared about. But I’ll accept a rain check if you’re willing!” He gave you a wink and your heart began fluttering all over again.

You got dressed again and resumed your search for a way out, deciding that you couldn’t spend the entire day up here. As Garreth opened the door, looking down to see if he could flag down any of your friends, you walked past the frog statue.

“Stupid fucking frog!” You said under your breath. Almost as if the frog was sentient, the frog’s mouth suddenly opened. “Uh Garreth!”

Garreth turned and huffed. “Maybe the frog just really wanted us to have some fun up here before it opened back up for us! Thank you mister frog!” He said as he patted the statue on the head. You rolled your eyes at him as you climbed into the frog’s mouth.

The two of you were brought back to the exact spot you found the frog. The two of you laughed, happy to be out of that room but glad you got to have some fun up there.

“Come on, we already missed half of potions class, why don’t we find somewhere you can cash in on that rain check?” You said with a wink. “Somewhere preferably easier to escape from!”

“I know just the place!” Garreth said as he took your hand, leading you. The two of you had only walked a few paces before you took a moment to look up, recognizing the view of the hallway you were walking through. Suspended several feet in the air, you saw the door to the room.

The two of you just laughed to yourselves as you went on your way.

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#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x you

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son1c · 1 year

Text

rouge wins the prize of "most trustworthy person sonic has met so far" by default

falling stars fic masterpost

The bat Mobian was deathly silent. The whole room, in fact, had suddenly become a void of noise. The only sounds to be heard were the soft hums of the fluorescent lights, and the bubbles lazily rising in the tank in the middle of the floor.

With an icy glare, the bat Mobian looked at Sonic. His accusation felt like a slap in the face. "What do you know? You're just another one of Eggman's toys." She adjusted the bands on her wrists protectively. Almost like she was daring Sonic to take them from her. "Shadow is gone, sweetheart. You can't steal from the dead."

Sonic shook his head. He felt dizzy from the sudden resurgence of memories--memories that his ruptured code couldn't hold back anymore. In his mind's eye, he saw Shadow, asleep in the pod in the basement. Now, it made sense why his wickedness, Doctor Eggman--blech, no. Let's try that again.

It made sense why Mr. Ivo didn't want him going down there. He would've broken free from the doctor's vice immediately if he'd seen Stripes. And Omega was down there, too. Trapped behind that locked door. Sonic felt himself growing angry just thinking about it.

The Robian said, "You're wrong. He's alive, and I can prove it!"

With her hands balled into fists, the bat spat, "This isn't a very nice trick, Blue. Even for an Eggman robot--it's low."

"I'm not a--" Sonic started to say, but stopped. He looked down at his hands. They were made of steel and screwed together with bolts. His argument held no water. Right now, he was an Eggman robot.

But it didn't matter. Robian or Mobian, Sonic wasn't gonna let this thief walk out of here with Shadow's inhibitor rings. And once he got them back, he was going to break his friend out of the basement, and then they would leave. Whatever information the doctor still had about their pasts wasn't worth being at his mercy.

However, before Sonic could charge at the bat, a badnik appeared at the base of the hole that had been smashed into the wall during their fight. It wasn't the motobug with the star on its head; it was a caterkiller that Sonic had saved from falling into the trash compactor last week. It looked worried.

Then, a buzzy bomber appeared. The same one that Sonic had caught after it flew into a live wire that caused its wings to lock up. And after that, a pair of eye stalks peeked over the ruined wall. They belonged to the crabmeat that somehow always managed to fall over and get stuck on its back. Luckily, Sonic had been there to pick it up and flip it back onto its feet every time that happened.

When Rouge saw what Sonic was looking at, she tensed. She knew this place was crawling with robots. She'd seen them when she'd snuck in. But that was why she'd been sneaky--so she didn't have to fight all of them. And now it looked like she was going to have to deal with a whole motley crew.

"Phoning in friends already?" Rouge asked the Robian. She kept her voice light and casual, despite the danger. "That's hardly fair. But you're gonna have to try a little harder than that to intimidate me!"

Sonic ignored her. He actually took his eyes off her entirely, so he could look down at the caterkiller and crabmeat that were now at his feet. The buzzy bomber joined them, although this badnik chose to perch on his head instead. It buzzed at him insistently.

"Sorry, guys, but you gotta go," Sonic said. He attempted to shoo the badniks out of the room, but they didn't budge. "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, and it's not safe for--"

While Sonic was distracted, Rouge attempted to stomp on the crab robot. Take out the easy ones first, then worry about the big guy, she figured. But she was unsuccessful. Sonic caught her boot with one hand, and shot her a red hot glare.

"Leave them out of it," he said, his robotic voice crackling. "You want to fight? Fine. Waste your time. Just don't forget who you're up against!"

Sonic's grip on Rouge's boot tightened. Then, he grabbed her leg with his other hand, and spun her around, before letting go. She sailed through the air and crashed into one of the computers lined up against the wall. When she tried to push herself back up, her hand caught on a switch, and flipped it down.

The tank in the middle of the room started boiling like the water inside was being heated by lava. But Rouge ignored it, her eyes focused on the strange blue robot that was still glaring at her from across the room. She'd never seen anything like him before. It was already a rarity for Eggman robots to be able to talk, but to be protective over other bots? That was unheard of.

And he'd mentioned Shadow. But there was no way he was serious. She'd seen it herself, through the windows of the Ark--Shadow had fallen to earth, along with the blue hero. They were both dead.

Right?

"Let's get back on topic, hmm?" the bat said, a little tightly. She didn't want to think about that bad memory anymore. "I'm here for Eggman's secret treasure. Should be behind a big locked door. Ring a bell?"

Sonic frowned. The only locked door he knew about had Shadow behind it.

Rouge saw his expression change and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, though. It was greedy. "Perfect!" she said. Her wings stretched out behind her. "Thanks for the confirmation. Now, are you going to tell me where it is? Or should I get my hacking gear ready for after our little dance? I'll get that information out of you one way or another!"

The crabmeat snapped its claws in Rouge's direction, and the caterkiller hissed at her. The buzzy bomber trilled threateningly.

Sonic stepped in front of the badniks, so that he was between them and the bat. He glowered at her. "You want what's in that room?" he asked. He might've been willing to take her there before, but not anymore. Not now that she'd threatened the badniks. "You better get used to wanting. Cuz you're outta luck! Those inhibitor rings are the only things that'll be changing hands!"

Rouge's smile faltered. The rings again, huh?

Sonic rocketed forward. He attempted to grab the bat's shoulders, but she was expecting it this time, and caught him by the wrists. Using his own momentum against him, she hurled him into the frothing tank in the middle of the room. He hit the water and sank to the bottom of the tank like a stone, momentarily disoriented.

The three badniks screeched. They charged at Rouge, their various blades and pincers ready to run her through like a shish kebab. Rouge turned to face them, prepared to defend herself.

But they never collided. The Roboticizer, with someone now inside of it, activated. A bright white light filled the room, and Rouge had to cover her eyes with her arm to keep from being blinded. She and the badniks flinched at the horrible noise emanating from the machine, a noise that sounded like rusted brakes, metal on metal.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The water drained from the tank, and Sonic, no longer a Robian, was laying flat on the floor of the machine, shivering.

It was cold. So cold.

Rouge covered her mouth with her hand. She was shocked. No one could've survived falling from space. Not even Sonic the Hedgehog. That was what she'd thought, anyway. Even when Sonic's little fox friend insisted upon the contrary; she stayed realistic. And so the possibility that, this whole time, Sonic was alive and had been captured by Doctor Eggman had never even crossed her mind.

But if he was here, then that could mean Shadow was, too.

Rouge set her jaw. She ignored the black smoke pouring out of the cables hanging from the ceiling and flew into the tank. "Hey there, Big Blue," she said, offering her hand to him. "Long time no see. No hard feelings about our little spat, right?"

Sonic forced himself up onto his elbows. It felt like the world was spinning, but he was tough. Tougher than post de-Roboticization sensory overload. He pried his eyes open. Looked at Rouge. She looked back at him, her own eyes widening a bit.

"You're no good at first impressions, lady," Sonic said, his voice hoarse. Still, he grabbed her hand and pulled himself up onto his feet, using the wall of the tank to keep himself steady. "But if you're done trying to dismantle me, I won't complain."

Curiously, Rouge looked Sonic over. "I think I get it," she said after a second. "You don't remember anything, huh?"

"I remember plenty," Sonic said, a little annoyed. He hoped this exchange wouldn't happen every time he met someone from his past. "Like those rings. You gotta hand 'em over. Stripes needs 'em back, pronto!"

Rouge raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Stripes?" she repeated.

"Yeah, you know, black hedgehog. Red stripes. The name's pretty on-the-nose, if you ask me." Sonic remembered what Eggman had told him before, that Rouge couldn't be reasoned with. But the doctor had turned out to be a scoundrel, so maybe he was lying about her. "He's in trouble. Without those rings, he'll be in deep water. You gotta give them back!"

Rouge glanced at the badniks on the other side of the glass. They looked like they wanted to kill her.

But only her.

She turned her attention back toward Sonic. "Usually I'd ask a pretty hefty price for something like this," she said with a dramatic sigh, "but since you saved the world and all, I'll cut you a deal. Consider it a 'thank you,' from me to you." With one twist of her wrists, she removed the inhibitor rings. But she didn't hand them over to Sonic just yet. "You can have these, on one condition."

Sonic looked from Rouge's face, to the rings, and then back to Rouge. "Better make it count," he said.

Rouge gestured to the badniks with one of her wings. "You keep those bots off my back. All of them. The only thing I want to worry about while I'm here is how much loot I'll walk away with! Not how many nails I'll break fending off Eggman's guard dogs."

"Deal," Sonic said. His opinion on Rouge was still pretty low, but if she was willing to give up Shadow's inhibitor rings without a fight, then maybe she wasn't the absolute worst.

Rouge smirked. "Glad we could work something out!"

The bat handed Sonic the inhibitor rings, and he wasted no time pulling them onto his own wrists. Then, Rouge watched as he jumped out of the tank, and knelt in front of the badniks on the other side of the glass. He said something to them. Flashed them a thumbs up. They all looked at Rouge, still angry, but not outright murderous anymore.

The bat was a little surprised. She’d thought that, now that Sonic wasn’t a Robian anymore, he would go right back to destroying Eggman robots like he used to. That was what she’d meant when she told him to keep them off her back, anyway. But maybe his fall had changed him more than she’d realized. Not that it mattered to her—so long as the badniks left her alone, he was staying true to his end of the bargain.

Sonic motioned for her to come out of the tank. Rouge did so, a little warily. But the badniks stayed where they were, at Sonic’s side. The buzzy bomber was on his head again. It glared at the bat, but all of the anger left its expression when Sonic stood up, and the robot looked down at him, its electronic eyes now big and wide. Like she wasn’t even there.

"We're gonna need to go all the way down to the bottom of this place to get to that door," Sonic told Rouge. "It'll be faster if we skip the lift, but it's a long drop to the basement. Think you can handle it?"

With a hand on her hip, Rouge easily replied, "If the only thing standing in between me and Eggman's treasure is an elevator shaft, he can kiss his riches goodbye!"

It took some convincing, but Sonic was able to get the caterkiller and crabmeat to wait for them at the top of the lift. Originally, he was going to tell the buzzy bomber to wait there too, but then he realized he didn't have rockets inside of his shoes anymore. So, when he and Rouge jumped down into the dark elevator shaft, he did so while holding onto the wasp robot's abdomen.

Once they reached the deepest part of the Brain Bowl, they stepped out of the elevator shaft and onto the basement landing. Sonic let go of the buzzy bomber and looked around. There were three branching hallways to choose from, but luckily, Sonic remembered which one led to the room that was locked behind the blast door. He started toward it immediately, with Rouge trailing not far behind.

When they got there, they were faced with their next problem: the door. The only way to unlock it was with Eggman's handprint. But maybe if he had a running start, he could--

"Hey, kid," Rouge said, derailing Sonic's train of thought. "You still with me? The lock's almost cracked. Make sure you're ready for whatever's inside."

Sonic blinked. He looked over at the keypad, and saw Rouge standing in front of it with a small black device in her hand that she had plugged into the wall. So, her comment about hacking into his systems earlier wasn't a joke, huh? Sonic suppressed a shudder.

Then, the keypad changed from red to green, and the blast door slowly started rising. Sonic turned toward the buzzy bomber floating by his shoulder, and said, "Be right back."

The wasp robot circled his head, buzzing indignantly.

Sonic gave it a lopsided grin. "Hey, that's not true! Who else is gonna watch the door, huh?"

Rouge pocketed her hacking gear and glanced over at Sonic and the buzzy bomber. She frowned, but didn't say anything.

By the time the door had lifted three feet off the ground, Sonic had joined Rouge in front of it. She nodded at him, and they both ducked inside the room. It looked exactly how Sonic remembered it. Same gray interior, same blinking machinery stacked around, some of it tall enough to touch the ceiling. And the green pod, glowing faintly, still holding Shadow inside.

However, before he or Rouge could make any moves toward it, Omega jolted to life. His rage from being locked down here for so long was palpable, practically microwaving the air around him. And when he saw Sonic, the settings were cranked up from defrost to high wattage in a nanosecond. He pointed his blasters at the blue hedgehog and opened fire.

"ELIMINATE ALL EGGMAN ROBOTS."

#falling stars au #something's a bit off eh!

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toxicanonymity · 10 months

Text

birds of prey (one shot)

2600 words, dark RAIDER!tommy x f!reader

Summary: Tommy recently joined the raiding group that killed everyone in your family. When the group comes back to claim the house for their own use, he finds you in the basement. A/N: This is a DIFFERENT READER, not joel's reader. I wanna introduce raider!Tommy before raider joel crosses paths with him (we're not there yet). THANK YOU @dark-scape for the group name, symbol, and soundboard. Also to @romanarose for requesting Tommy in raider!Joel. WARNINGS!!: I8+ mdni, extremely dubious consent unsafe P in V and oral M receiving, dirty talk, pet names, dark/toxic affection- do not be fooled, degradation. NO USE OF Y/N.

The raiders first came a week ago and killed everyone but you–they never found you in the basement. They took everything they could use, so you aren't sure why they're back, but in your gut you know it's them when you hear the tires on gravel. You make your way down to the basement again. The entry is through a closet floor and it looks like more of a crawl space until you climb down into it. You told everyone it’d be safest there, but they thought if they begged for their lives and let them take everything, the men might be reasonable.

The short, dirty window at the top of the wall is open and their voices make your stomach turn.

"Den's big enough, got a kitchen 'n all. Hell, wood's already chopped." They laugh and the door handle jiggles. "Locked?"

"What? Y'all lock it when ya left?"

"Didn't think so."

They bust down the door.

"So this is it," a new voice announces calmly. "The new nest."

Someone corrects him, "That's lame, man. You don't gotta call it that when he's not around."

"Takes this Birds of Prey shit too literally," another man agrees.

They start showing the new guy around.

One of the men asks, "think the big guy'll like it?"

After a moment of silence, someone says "let's talk about the big guy. " It sounds like they're planning a coup. They agree to find somewhere in the house to hide the loot and leave one man behind to guard it overnight. They break up to look for a hiding place.

—-

Inevitably, the door to your space opens. "Crawlspace," the new voice says. Then he steps down. It’s just him. He hunches over and walks until the ceiling is higher. You're huddled in the corner under a desk. He scuffs his boot on the ground and a huge layer of dust gets kicked up. He looks around for a minute and says "alright, alright," to himself. You can only see his boots. Your nose tickles from the dust and you're trying to stave off a sneeze. When his boots turn back toward the door, You're relieved. But you can't keep the tickle at bay. You squeak ever so quietly into your shoulder, then the boots turn in your direction.

Your heart goes to your throat as the man slowly crouches down. Mustache, long, dark hair, denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Heavily tattooed, though you can’t make anything out. He raises his eyebrows and his lips purse in bemusement. He clasps his large hands and says “Well hey there,” like he’s speaking to a child.

You’re silent.

“What are ya doin’ down here?”

“It’s my house,” you say.

He nods thoughtfully and his brows knit apologetically, but his voice doesn’t match. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he says ominously. “My friends said it’s our house, now.” He frowns exaggeratedly.

Your eyes sting with the dusty air and you realize you’ve had your eyes wide and not blinked this entire time.

"MILLER WHERE THE HELL ARE YA," someone yells.

He sighs and stands up.

“Don’t tell them,” you beg.

“Why wouldn’t I,” he asks, still standing up, out of view.

“I’ll do anything,” you say.

“Anything,” he repeats, then sighs. “Wouldn’t’ve taken ya for that kinda girl. Looked like an angel to me.”

“MILLER!!!!”

“Please,” you beg.

“We’ll see,” he says curtly then turns around and leaves. When he gets up the stairs and opens the door, he announces he found a crawlspace that’ll work.

—----

They unload the stuff, then someone asks, “Who’s stayin’?”

“New guy,” someone says.

“Can ya handle it, Miller?” another voice asks. “Place like this might get spooky at night.”

The men chuckle.

“I’m good,” Miller says.

“That’s the spirit, Tommy boy.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

—

Tommy starts bringing crates down, and the men get ready to leave. They continue to talk amongst themselves upstairs on their way out. Tommy crouches down to look at you, a little closer this time, about two meters away. He smiles at you then sits on the floor with his hands behind him, not saying anything. As the men leave, you both overhear their crude banter. Tommy looks at the window as he listens.

"Think she's ready for more?"

"I call back door first." Your heart drops thinking about whoever’s waiting for them back where they came from.

"Shit, you can have it. D'ya see the lips on her?" There’s no way she’s willingly waiting for this disgusting group of men.

"I wanna see what Tommy boy can do to that pussy."

“Not tonight!” one says and they laugh.

"He doesn't have it in'm," another one says.

Tommy seems to bristle at this. Then he dons a subtle smirk, looks at you, and slowly sucks in air though his teeth like he's breaking some bad news. "'m afraid I do," he nods. "Just don’t like sharin’." He sighs. His nose twitches and you don’t like it. He’s pensive, like he has something to prove. He says, “Hope they don’t do ya like that once they find ya.”

You hug your knees and bury your head to cry. “What do you want,” you ask.

“Why don’t ya come on out for a start.”

You look at him. He’s not moving from his position. He nods toward the wall as though to give you permission to sit away from him. He watches you like a hawk as you slowly crawl, still sniffling, and you sit against the wall with your legs out.

“Good girl,” he says gently, then begins to get up. You flinch when he stands, but he takes the chair from the desk and turns it to face you. He sits in it, only about a meter away now. At this distance, you can see his freckles and the sparkle in his eyes and you hate to admit it, but he’s pretty good looking. You look at each other for a few seconds. Apparently he’s thinking the same thing. “Pretty, too. Aren’t ya, angel?”

He leans back and his chest puffs out as he takes off his denim jacket. “Too hot for this,” he mutters and throws it onto the desk. His t-shirt lets you see how strong his chest and arms are as he settles back into the chair and manspreads with his hands on his thighs. One of his hands has a fresh tattoo of a talon on it. His jeans are ripped below the one knee. “So you’ll do anything, huh,” he says contemplatively. He smooths his hair and looks at the window, then around the room. “Guess I’ve got all night to find out what that means.”

You consider your options. If he really doesn’t like sharing, giving yourself to him is your best shot at staying secret from the other men.

“Can I have some water,” you ask.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, what else ya want? A cheeseburger?” He sighs, braces his hands on his knees, and leaves. He doesn’t come back for hours.

You’re tired. So tired. It’s been the worst week of your life, and that’s saying a hell of a lot. You’re too tired to fight, too tired to even care what he might do to you. You fall asleep.

—--------

You wake up to the sound of boots thudding down the stairs. It’s dark out now. “Got lost, sorry,” he booms. He’s carrying a short crate that has a lantern, a jug of water, a bottle of whiskey, and some jerky. He sets the crate down on the desk. He puts the water jug next to your feet, and he lingers. He squats down and caresses your cheek with his knuckle. You smell his sweat and you smell he’s been drinking. His lips part as he looks at you, and you try to ignore the sparkle in his eyes in the lamp light. He’s sweaty, and his masculine smell makes you tingle. He offers you some jerky with a little smile but you say, “no thank you.”

“Those manners,” he whispers with a smile. His mustache twitches charmingly. He takes off his boots and sits next to you on the wall and his large hand engulfs your thigh. He wets his lips and looks at you. “What are we gonna do?” he asks softly.

“Just tell me what you want,” you whine.

He shakes his head no. “I wanna know what you want.”

“I wanna live, I wanna not be gang banged, I want my family back, I want-” you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. He reaches for you and you flinch, but he gets up on his knees and forces you into a consoling embrace. You cry into his shirt and he says “Shhhhh, shhhhhh.” He pats your head. “You’re not gonna get gang banged if you’re mine, I promise.”

The most unsettling mix of relief and dread floods your upper body. Your lower body, meanwhile, is all warmth and tingling. Oh, god. He hugs you into his hair which smells like cigarettes, campfire, and something sour. “C’mere,” he says, and uses your hair to pull your head back slightly, gently. Enough to look at your face.

----

He dips his head, and at first all you can do is watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows. But then his face drifts toward yours, and you tense in anticipation. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are plush and gentle. Your lips remain firm and still until they don’t. When his tongue brushes the seam of your lips, they let him in. Your mouths are connected for a good thirty seconds before he breaks the kiss and looks at you. Then he wraps his hands around your back and lifts you up onto your knees so you’re both kneeling on the cold concrete as he licks into your mouth. He wraps his arms around you tight and attacks your mouth with his again, with more fervor this time, his suction making your lips tingle.

His cock hardens against you. He breaks the kiss and takes a deep breath against the side of your mouth. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him, pressing his hardness into you. He sighs.

Then he lets go of your ass and his hands come between you. He urgently unbuttons and unzips your jeans, then pulls them down. You feel like there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, so you obediently take them off as he removes his own without taking his eyes off you. “Those too,” he nods at your panties. As you remove them, the damp cotton is cool against your inner thigh and you realize how wet you are. Warmth rushes to your face.

----

“C’mere, angel,” he whispers, and he sits down in his boxers. He pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him, hovering, at first. He reaches between your legs and groans as his fingers meet your wetness. He gazes at you with wonder in his eyes. “Beautiful girl.” He looks down and watches his hand as he slides his fingers through your folds, front and back. His strong chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. He pulls you by the ass, grinding your crotch into the massive tent in his boxers and the contact makes you twitch. “Fuck,” he sighs when your loins are pressed up against each other. He makes space to get his cock out and you try not to stare. It’s thick. Suddenly, you’re salivating. You wet your lips and he notices.

“Lemme put it here, first,” he says softly and rubs your cunt. “Okay?” He nods for you as he positions you over his cock and notches himself for entry. He’s waiting for your go-ahead like it means something. You offer an almost imperceptible nod, then he pulls you down hard on his cock with a groan. You gasp as his girth parts your walls.

“Then—ohhh—then ya can suck it,” he says. He lifts his hips. “Maybe.” He moves you on his cock. “Shit this feels good.” He holds you close and wraps an arm around you. He moves his hips forward from the wall with a sharp thrust up into you. He gets enough space to lean back a little and pull you against his chest for leverage, with enough clearance to fuck up into you. “Yeah, ohh shit.” As your body adjusts to his girth, your eyes close in pleasure. His thrusts are sharp and deep. He’s strong, so strong the way he holds you. Tension knots in your gut as his girth fills you up over and over.

“Ride it, baby. C’mere.” He sits back down flatter against the wall again and manhandles you on his cock. “C’mon, baby.” You might as well get something out of it, so you move your hips and get close enough to him to grind your clit into his pelvis. “Aww, yeah,” he breathes, “Yeahh, like that.” He reaches for your head. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers, then pulls your face into his again. His hips rock in rhythm with yours as he fills your mouth with his tongue.

You accidentally hum “Mmm” into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to say “oh you like it, huh,” pounding into you a little harder. “You like this big cock.” Each time he fills you, you’re less and less ready for this to end. “That’s good,” he rubs his nose against your temple. “gonna get a lot of it.” He holds the back of your head and reads your eyes in the dim lamp light then kisses you again. You break the kiss with a moan, feeling yourself on the edge.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Shit yeah,” He puts both his hands on your ass and moves you on his cock, determined to fill you with every smidgen of him.

You whimper at the stretch, the sheer fullness.

“You’re there,” he says. “C’mon, baby,” his thick cock sliding in and out of you, stretching you, filling you like you thought you might never be filled, “C’mon, angel. C’mon.” The tension snaps and you groan as your cunt spasms around his cock. “Ohhh, yeahhh, yeahhh,” Tommy says, “shit, yeah.” Your body jerks into his. “Fuckin’ beautiful."

He slows you down and sucks in a deep breath as you keep spasming. “Shit,” he sighs. He stops moving and tries to compose himself. He’s trying not to come. He pulls you off before you’re finished coming. You look at him and he’s biting his lip, his eyes are smiling, his hand is wrapped around his cock. “Now suck it for me.” He reaches up and his huge hand engulfs the back of your head. “Now,” he says more urgently. He pulls down and you oblige, reeling in aftershocks and shame.

You take his tip in your mouth and his hips lift as you suck it. He forces your head down on his cock and you gag on it. “Ohh, shit.” He pulls your head down harder then explodes against the back of your throat with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. His hot spend paints the back of your throat. You swallow it then let him slide out of your mouth.

—--

Tommy catches his breath for a moment, then puts his dick away and gets up to put on his pants. It feels abrupt, but you’re not sure what you expected. Surely not pillow talk. He towers over you as he zips up. You look up at him and he tilts his head, looking at you affectionately. Then his face changes.

“Dumb slut.”

Your stomach drops as he walks away.

-------

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Thank you so much for reading and engaging! You can follow @toxicfics and turn on notifications for updates.

Joel and Tommy are not in touch. When they cross paths it will have been a long time since they saw each other.

This reader will be Tommy's and he'll gain some power in the group.

#dark!tommy miller #tommy miller x reader #raider!tommy miller #tommy miller #tommy miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller fic #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!tommy

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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month

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Forget Spiderman Percy,what about Spiderpunk Percy?Who choose his name because he's crustpunk but also because she's transfem bigender and Spiderman and Spiderwoman were already taken by Nico and Hazel and they're a Spider trio with Percy being 22,Nico 17 and Hazel 16 and having been the Spidersiblings of Earth 27 for 4 years by Atsv.Sally adopted Nico and Hazel in their toddler years but died under mysterious circumstances when Percy was 12 and he had to resort to self-parentification since Smelly Gabe was their 'guardian' and he took the brunt of the abuse on purpose so his little siblings could be safer.Hazel was bitten first so she doned the Spiderwoman mantle that'd been lost with Sally's death because she was the first 27 Spiderwoman but kept it a secret from her kids for protection,Nico gets bitten next and joins her as Spiderman and finally Percy is bitten too while dealing with radioactive sludge during eco-activism he was participating in

He's got a Gwen Stacy variant too and they're afrolatina like him and turn out to be an Anomaly by turning into Ghostspider a good deal into the Spidersiblings run and when they join Spider Society,obviously he instantly hits it off with Hobie and they clown on Miguel and have a lot of the same interests so they do them together often and Hobie's friends with Nico and Hazel too,being especially close to Hazel because he thinks she's the most adorable thing ever and loving to annoy Nico's lil black emo ass.Percy's also a dad in every way but having bio kids so he forces Hobie into healthy habits and coping mechanisms because realistically he's gotta have a lot of problems that i don't doubt like Gwen in Across will be explored in Beyond and speaking of Gwen,Percy's pretty much her new dad and mom who makes her do awful things like building up her self-worth again and spending time offduty actually having zero stakes fun and Hobie sees Percy as his eldest sister and she views the two of them in familial light back since they're a trio like she is with her legal siblings and Peter B's the only Peter Parker she dosen't think is a cornball and they hang out sometimes and have been on missions together but not nearly as many as her and Hobie who's her favorite Spiderperson tied with her homedimension ones

Percy's also got tons of street cred as Spiderpunk and as Percy Jackson-He killed his canon event cop Zeus Grace,he's defeated triple digit villains,he improved the view on Mutants by using his Spiderpersonhood to shine light on them and help out directly,he's got some narly scars from all his herowork,the Daily Bugle is highkey scared to shittalk him due to all the brutal things he's done and survived and as Percy,she works a fast food service job on the weekdays but spends her weekends attending protests and charity events and is very well known amongst other New York punks but especially in Manhattan specifically just as Percy in general and she's the go to for baby punks to learn what they need to and Nico's goth punk and Hazel's pastel goth punk because no younger siblings and pseudo-kids of hers were gonna be raised as normies or posers.She's a popular flirtation and thirst target but has never been interested in anyone except the 27 Gwen Stacy,a pastel punk like our Gwen and they grew up together

Just.......Spiderpunk Percy.Regular Percy's character relies on being a huge weirdo with no conformity capability and there's a lot of transfem subtext to her so it fits pretty well and it's why him and Hobie are almost the same!!You KNOW their basement shows go so fucking hard

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