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vibingpyro · 11 months ago

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Piercings and pretty lips

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

Hobie must sense your disappointment as he gently knocks his head into yours, your disappointing thoughts pushed away as he gathers your full attention, suggesting something even more tempting into your ear. "I never said we couldn't do anything else." He says, nuzzling his head down to your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips to the flesh of your neck. "Just keep those pretty lips to yourself, yeah?"

#hobie brown #astv hobie #hobie spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv hobie #hobart brown #across the spider verse #hobie x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie brown x reader

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cerastes · 11 months ago

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Do you think at some point early on in Arknights the intent was to be a buildup to a more critical look at Rhodes as more morally grey than it first appears? Because when I started the game I was so sure that's where it was going. Popukar probably being one of the first characters you get, the idea of SWEEP, the understanding I had at the time of darknights doctor and y'know, the villains being who they are. I just thought it would be more of a thing.

I don't think necessarily, I think the intent was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state". I do think it bears mentioning that child soldiers/children and teenagers with a job as a concept don't seem to really carry a stigma as they do in the real world: The only real times in which these are painted in negative lights are when the conditions or results of these decisions end up in something negative:

Popukar was clearly indentured labor at the lumberyard. The part that's condemned is that she was miserable and practically a slave, not really that she was working per se, and she's given a job by RI later after Kal'tsit personally gets her out of there.

Frostleaf's being a child soldier even before Rhodes Island isn't really all that condemned, the effects it had on her psyche is.

Absinthe, just orphaned, is made a Rhodes Island Operator. This notion isn't rejected or truly contested, no more than "maybe we can send her somewhere proper for care". Hell, all the Ursus kids also get made into Operators.

Even outside of this, we hire children frequently: Bubble, Suzuran, Shamare, you name it. Sure, each has a context, especially Shamare who is Fucking Haunted, but the matter of the fact is that Rhodes Island isn't just housing them, it's also showing no real qualms with them taking the Operator Testing Battery and, if they succeed, hiring them. It's mentioned several times that Rhodes Island has many non-combat roles -- Angelina used to be a Messenger for Rhodes Island before taking the Operator test, Orchid was offered a desk job at Rhodes Island initially, and Weedy was a Rhodes Island researcher who explicitly worked out and trained so she could pass the physical components of the test -- but there's no real turn of eyes when a child says mmmm yeah I'll do the Battlefield Supporter Battery please, thank you.

Amiya is, you know, the CEO of Rhodes Island, and that IS pointed out in a "damn, fucked up" way, but what's being lamented is not her having a job, it's her having a BIG difficult job. I think no one would bat an eye if Amiya was a regular Operator under Theresa instead (granted, because she's the owner's daughter, but even without that link).

These are some examples of in-universe logic regarding the whole child soldier and kid with a job. I'd wager it's because life expectancy in Terra is pretty damn low from what we've gathered: Armed conflict, crime, Catastrophes, Oripathy, there's plenty of ways to kick the bucket in Terra, much like it was in Ye Olde Ages in real life, which is coincidentally an era in which by 16 you already were an adult and were expected to start having adult responsibilities.

Pre-Amnesia Doctor was definitely not a stellar person but it's always understood that they weren't bad as much as broken: Scout put it best that it broke his heart to have seen this kind educator and fun, loving individual become a heartless tactician. Even when described this way, though, it wasn't like Doc became this Brooding Evil Mass, it's still mentioned plenty that they were pretty beloved by most people and a person they liked being friends with -- Ace, Scout, and Amiya all corroborate this, and in flashbacks, you have Theresa being pretty warm with Doc -- but if you were a footsoldier, Doctor was probably your worst nightmare because you were disposable -- W, Ines, Hoederer and Flamebringer can tell you as much -- so we had less a villain or a vile individual and more a broken individual who was remolded into someone that could withstand the immense psychological pressure that came with having their role. That's not to sanitize pre-amn Doctor, it's to echo the game's own words on them as per the characters in the setting that knew them from back then, and who held both positive and negative opinions on them.

Looking at all of these from an in-universe lens, they all have coherent in-universe explanations. I also think they would have foreshadowed any sort of Rhodes Island Insiduous Vileness with characters or actions by now: Less than stellar, antagonistic high command, dubious orders to do some vile stuff, other such things. The closest we get to this is Kal'tsit hating Doctor's guts, but also Kal'tsit is a really good person and her hatred of Doctor stems from her knowing them pre-amnesia, seeing how that happened, and what Doc did in those times, particularly one big event that's pretty lore relevant.

You may have noticed the elephant in the room [SPOILERS FOR PEOPLE NOT DONE WITH THE REUNION ARC YET]: I didn't address the enemy part yet. That's because that's the part that I still have some conflicted feelings over: The real enemy, in the end, isn't Reunion's ideals -- which are shared with Rhodes Island -- but rather it's what Reunion has become, a false flag operation for the Ursus Empire to justify a war. On one hand, I like that, on the other, I do think it's something that should've been more graciously hinted at in the very early chapters, because in those very early chapters, you REALLY are rent-a-cops in essence, putting down the people you set out to help. Of course, it's not that simple and there's a nuance as to why and the business dealings and all that, but given the relative simplicity and pace of the early chapters, it really is easy to see it come across that way.

It does, however, ring consistent with what we were previously talking about, though: The essence of, more than the act or thing in itself. Or, in other words, in Terra, the onus of things seem to be placed on the result or context surrounding something more than that something in itself: Child soldiers are fine, unhappy and in-risk child soldiers are not. Teenagers with jobs are fine, teenagers with huge stressful jobs way out of their league are not. Revolutionary movements are fine, revolutionary movements with civilian casualties are not. And so on. There is DEFINITELY commentary that can be had about this, mind you, but that can be for another post in another blog.

With this in mind, I go back to what was first said in this post, I think the idea was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state".

#arknights

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condensed-ink · 8 months ago

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I've been thinking a lot about #FixTF2 and I know that some might have their doubts about the movement, however, I've realized that, even if it does not succeed in getting Valve's attention, it will end up contributing towards an important development in recent years - the shift in the public perception of Valve.

If you are person who was growing up in the early 2010's then you obviously remember how Valve games were essentially the cultural zeitgeist of the time, how you would see pictures of King Gaben on every meme/YouTube thumbnail during a Steam Summer Sale. As I understand it, Valve essentially rode this wave of good will throughout the 2010's. Even when everyone was getting frustrated with the lack of sequels for games such as HL2 and L4D2, some people would just excuse it with "ah y'know Valve, not communicating and not doing anything is just their style, this is just probably part of Gaben's 5D chess - tier master plan". However, the cracks in this image have been slowly showing up for a long time:

Portal fans haven't had anything since Portal 2's release back in 2011. We have had some small VR titles but that's hardly any consolation.

Left for Dead 2 came out all the way back in 2009 with nothing afterwards. As of June of 2024, the game still has more than 10 thousand concurrent players yet it is also unplayable for a significant amount of people due to reported DDos attacks.

The suffering of Half - life fans at this point is a meme in itself. The only thing we got was HL:Alyx back in 2020 and, even though it's a very good game, it was inaccessible to a lot of people at launch due the costs and lack of VR hardware. We were left on a cliff-hanger AGAIN and four years later we have no news of any follow-up.

In my opinion, Valve to some extent could ignore these fandoms since they were smaller compared to their big earners. But it is the recent issues with these bigger titles that have started to test everyone's patience and tolerance for Valve's bullshit:

Team Fortress 2 - I mean what else is there to say: rampant cheating and idle bots, bot hosters doxxing and swatting people. The bots crisis has been destroying the game for the past 5 years. If we remember the original SaveTF2 movement, it had a more positive tone, i. e., people talking about how much they love the game and pleading Valve to fix it. Well, one shitty tweet and two years later the tone has gone from "Please fix the game" to "FIX THE FUCKING GAME YOU ASSHOLES" and rightfully so.

CS2 also has a myriad of issues. CS:GO became CS2 after the game jumped to the Source 2 engine, but the resulting game, by many accounts, is a downgrade. A lot of game modes and maps from the original game were not included and are still not present as of June of 2024. Cheaters are rampant. To what degree I cannot say but it is to an extent where a significant enough portion of the player base is affected. Also, the game hasn't had an operation (major content update) since 2021. The player count is still high, but a lot voices in the community have been chewing out Valve for this level of incompetence.

With DOTA 2 I cannot say for sure. Some people talk about neglect whilst others say the game is in a decent state considering the game still gets frequent updates and patches. At most I can say that there is a portion of players that are dissatisfied with the state of the game but most likely to a much lesser extent than in the previous cases.

HOWEVER

All of that is just one part of the double whammy, the second part is probably is much worse than the first - a lack of continuity for Valve's legacy.

I mean, let's think about it for a second here: most of us who grew with the Valve classics are probably in our mid-to late twenties at this point. Of course, I'm not saying that there aren't any younger fans but the bulk is the old guard. I'm pretty sure a lot of kids and teenagers don't even know a lot about these games and it's not their fault, they weren't old enough to experience them. The blame lies SOLELY with Valve because they have done NOTHING to boost the visibility of their older series due to the fact that they haven't bothered to make a single proper sequel for any of them.

And speaking of visibility, Valve's advertising strategy is non - existent and downright insulting . They really have this holier-than-thou perception of themselves, where they think "I am THE Valve softworks, makers of TF2 and Half-Life! How could you NOT know of us?!?!" and then expect everyone else to spread news of their games through word-of-mouth. Like, I'm sorry, Gabe, but we don't owe you shit. I'm not gonna advertise your shitty card-game and upcoming mediocre 5v5 hero shooter just because I had fun playing TF2 back in high school. Like, it's no surprise that you're not gaining any new fans when this has been your modus operandi for the past 10 years.

TO CONCLUDE

This is where we are right now: the old guard is either apathetic or straight-up hates Valve for their negligence, the younger generation barely knows about most of Valve's OG game series due to the lack of any meaningful output. At the end of the day, Valve isn't going to bankrupt, they're gonna keep taking their 30% cut from Steam and peddling gambling addictions to kids via cases. However, the era of good will is over, nobody is cutting them any slack anymore and, frankly, they deserve all the shit that's going to get thrown at them.

#ngl I kinda got sick of my writing half-way through but I squeezed it out in the end #this is the shit that I do instead of doing my academic writing lol #valve #valve games #tf2 #team fortress 2 #fixtf2 #savetf2 #portal #left for dead #csgo #cs2 #counter strike #half life #gabe newell #dota 2

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onlyrains · 1 year ago

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:: h&l boys being with their drunk s/o for the first time ::

pairings: fujio hanaoka, tsukasa takajo, yosuke todoroki, yuken odajima, yasushi nishikawa x fem reader

FUJIO ✧.*

it warmed his heart seeing you made a fond friendship with all his friends. you were new yet so significantly important to his life so of course he wanted you to get along with all his people and now you dis it so naturally. everyone liked you to the point you were get comfortable so quickly while chatting and drinking alcohol with them. fujio didn't know you can drink so tonight he was quieter than usual to watch you got tipsy while actively interacting with his childhood friends because it's too fascinating to him.

“fujio…” you turned to him with your flushed red cheeks.

“yes?” he responded.

you didn't answered right away. you were focus on his face then a hand landed smoothly on the back of his neck. “i'm happy with you.”

he beamed. he didn't know how to respond to that so he just look at you with a surprise look while his heart was ready to blown up.

“i want to stay here all night but why's my head so dizzy?” you placed your head on your palm to stay still. your other hand playing with his ear absentmindedly.

he finally replied with a chuckle. “you can't stay here all night. let's go home, it's already late.”

“but you haven't drink a bit?” you protested, handing a glass of beer to your boyfriend.

he squeezed your cheek excitedly. “i'm good.” he said giggly. you felt your head keep spinning then your forehead fall perfectly on his shoulder, inviting a laughter from madoka. “GIRL, YOU LOSE!!! FUJIO YOUR GIRLFRIEND JUST LOST!!!” she said extremely drunk.

fujio sighed to the rest of the guys. “i'm going.” he said before placing you on his back, ready to take you home.

TSUKASA ✧.*

“you drink too much.” he warned you. you glanced at him with disapproval and a pout on your lips.

“i'm fine.” you replied while lying on your stomach, eyes back on the papers in front of you.

“but you have a pre-test tomorrow,”

you laughed, “this is my pre-test y'know.” then continue to take a sip of your drink to accompany you studying tonight.

he copied your position. “you could just ask me then drink these cans.” tsukasa ran his fingers through your hair softly.

you flipped your body to lay on your back then you covered your face with both of your hands. he could still hear you sobbing beside him. “why can't i go through this test peacefully? why can't my head absorb things easily like most of people do? why i feel like i know nothing about these things? why…” you started to ramble then looked at him with so much anger on your face.

he knew you so frustrated lately, that's why he decided to come to your house then he found you barely sober on the floor with papers and beer cans everywhere. it was the first time he saw you cried and drunk. too surprising to him to process.

he helped you sit then he started to rub your back in up-down motion. “cry. let it out.” he said. in a split second he could feel his body being pulled in and you cried drunkly on his neck, hugging him tightly.

“thank you,” you said. he nodded while patting your hair and back. “anything for you. just ask me if you need anything.”

silence.

he felt your breating evenly which meant you were asleep. “hey?” he called.

“you're body is so sweet-scented, it's comfy.” oh, you may regret this tomorrow because it was completely not you at all.

tsukasa chuckled. “okay, then.”

TODOROKI ✧.*

he was hanging out with you and his oya friend. when he received a call from his parent that he needed to handle a few things for a bit. “you can go. i'm fine here, really. they are my friends too.” you tried your best to convince him that you were okay with fujio, nakagoshi, yasushi, kiyoshi, tsuji, and shibaman while he was away.

“yeah, she's right. you don't need to worry about nothing.” yasushi spoke making todoroki's gaze switch to him.

“it won't take more than an hour i promise. don't get too drunk.” he said before you nodded and he left. so there were only you and the idiots, and you agreed to play beer pong with them. you were pretty sure it wouldn't be too difficult since you could drink quite well. in the middle of the game, they started to realize that your shooting was good, you rarely threw the ball away. then the opposite team started to rearrange their strategy to caught up your team's score. you've got tipsy but the games had an endless round until kiyoshi passed out beside you.

you snorted, “poor you, kiyo-kiyooo!” then laughed maniacally. you sat on the sofa when tsuji lit his cigarette. you felt your head too dizzy to worked but the view of a drunk guy smoking beside you intrigued you so much that you decided to try the nicotine too. so you pulled out a cigarette unconsciously and lit it up while sucking on it carefully.

“i shouldn't leave you with these jerks.” the love of your life showed up and snatched the nicotine between your lips.

“baby!” you exclaimed cheerfully and put your arms around his neck. completely distracted.

“why don't you listen to me?” he hissed.

you frowned. “me? not listening? never! i've never not listening to you in my life.” you put your head on his shoulder, clingy. “i'm just… sleepy.” then you pecked his neck.

he rolled his eyes and tightened his hand on your waist. “we're going home.” he said, slightly mad but couldn't ignore the way your warm breath fanned his side neck.

YUKEN ✧.*

“can i talk to my boyfriend?” the right side of your face lying on the table. you eyed your boyfriend, who was sitting next to you.

“you can. what do you want to talk about?” yuken dropped the glass he'd been holding onto the table then put his palm under your cheek so it wouldn't get sore. he was smiling slightly looking at adorable view of you like this.

“honestly, i didn't want to go on the triple date either.” you started. “i love to be like this. just with you.”

yuken laughed at your cute confession. you both were at a small shop near the restaurant you previously visited for a triple date your boyfriend initially refused to come to. but you said it just for once and you spent days to persuading him to come, so he agreed.

“i was in denial of it but today the proof was in front of my eyes. i can't deny that i only get comfortable with you now.”

he smirked as he feel an ego boost. he thought he made a genius decision to drink with you. your relationship was love-hate so that was the first time you were so honest about your feeling.

“sorry to forced you to come to that date.”

he caressed your hair. “it's fine. i can finally know about you more because of that damn date.” he grinned. “i'll plan us a proper date for next week.”

you giggled. “oh, really? will you?” you asked doubtedly.

“it will be the best date ever and you need to give me a reward if i succeed.”

you held his hand with both of yours. “deal.” and you didn't let go of his hand afterward.

he noticed that you were more touchy when you were drunk and it was kinda alarming because he wouldn't let you drink without him.

you stared straight at his lips when he was going to speak. “okay, then. we'll see.” he tried to let go of his hand from you slowly to down his tequila but your movement restrained him.

you quickly lift your head and approached his, placing a gentle kiss on his mouth for a few seconds.

“your lips are flirting with me.” you blurted out.

yuken remained frozen for a while then he stood up and carried your body like a sack on his shoulder. he smirked, “that's not fair you drunkenly doing that in public. let's go home.”

YASUSHI ✧.*

it was almost midnight when he received a call from an unknown number. he wanted to ignore it but he remember you were out drinking with your friends, so he picked up quickly. a deafening noise entered his ear.

“hello, is it—”

“where is my girlfriend?” he cut. fast. his body was ready to sprint to wherever you were.

“s-she is drunk—can you pick her up? i'll send the location.”

he hung up then grabbed his jacket and shoes to head to your location—luckily it wasn't that far.

he almost got there when he saw a girl sitting on the ground—face down and nearly passed out… or maybe sleeping? it was you.

“babe? why are you—you okay? babe? how can—” too many question filled his brain. you opened your glazed eyes after hearing a familiar voice.

“hi,” you greeted happily. you placed hands on his arms to support your body to pecked his cheek. a wide smile appeared after the sudden action.

“babe—”

“i had a good night,” you grinned. “you're so pretty by the way.” his cheek and ear turned red at the same time. it wasn't a good timing but who could ignore compliment from the prettiest girl on earth?

“thanks but how can you end up here? where are your friends? you said you're going with the girls, right?”

your eyes closed but the smile didn't seem to fade anytime soon. “they're going home… maybe?”

“what do you mean maybe?” you place a forefinger on his lips. “shut up. my head's noisy.”

he groaned to himself. “i swear i'll beat them tomorrow.” you frowned. “they are my friends—girls—you can't.”

“okay then i'll punch their boyfriend?”

you laughed. “stop, you feral kid.”

he sighed heavily. “let's go home you need to wash yourself.” he swore he won't let you out drinking again without him.

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phyrestartr · 1 year ago

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HOUND pt.2 | Miguel x M!Reader

Geneticist!Miguel x Guard!Reader Part 2 W/C: 2.7k | Part 2 of 2

#NSFW, zombie AU, apocalypse AU, mentions of exploitation and abuse, body horror, gore, immoral research and experiments, power imbalance, reader is a criminal, miguel is a scientist, dark themes, part 2 ends on a positive note, reader is morally grey, bottom!miguel, top!reader, sorry there's lore lol

Note: AAAAH ok it's done and now I can struggle to finish my other fics instead asjdkf;weiafjf

Miguel couldn’t recall what happened after that. The noises outside the door, the wet sloshing of viscera and pained outcries echoed faintly in the black corners of his mind, but nothing else. Nothing about how he got out of that room. Nothing about what had attacked him. Nothing about where you had gone.

The mystery led him to reviewing the footage. The security cameras were set in each room, only to be accessed in times where someone was suspected to be infected and other suspicious situations. He found the moments leading up to everything, the moment you pushed him against the wall, when you started taking off the vest, when you threw Miguel into the bathroom and forced the door closed with brute strength.��

What followed was unbearable. The thing, now confirmed to have been one of your kind, rippled with overwhelming, excruciating power. You couldn’t square up with it fairly, but you were smart and fast, hitting when it really counted and pulling the trigger only when you knew it’d strike true. But the problem was its objective; the entire fight, Miguel realized, was a contest for the bathroom door. The monster didn’t care about you. You weren’t its target. It was going for him.

But it didn’t show you any mercy. It tore chunks out of you, shattered your ribs, broke whatever part of you it touched until you’d put it down for good with a full mag into its soft, melted skull. You staggered backwards, feeling behind you for the cool touch of the door before you collapsed against it, trying to stay standing despite it all. It was hard to watch. To see someone suffering and still fighting the good fight even though they’d already lost in order to win.

You eventually crumbled and held what was left of your stomach and chest as you heaved in air. Loud sounds, like a wooden train whistle, hissed through the gaps left between your exposed ribs and the holes in your tattered lungs time after time, breath after breath, up until the EMTs arrived; you scrambled to get up, nearly spilling your guts and breaking off a leg before a tranquilizer hit you, and put you down.

After that, you’d been carted off, and Miguel stepped out of the bathroom moments later, shaken and confused. Gabe showed up, thank God, and the thing that’d started all the bullshit was dead, but he couldn’t help the lingering tendrils of paranoia stitching the muscles taut in his shoulders. Then, and now.

He needed to see you for himself.

“Listen, listen, it’s suuuper nice that you suddenly have a weak spot for the guy, it’s really cute, but we haveta set you up with a different one for now–”

“What?” Miguel cut in while Lyla spun in her chair and fixed her obnoxious sunnies. “Why do–they heal. I don’t want any other–”

“Yep, yep, yep, I totally get it, but he’s reaaal messed up. He’s gonna take some time to fix ‘n heal and everything, yenno?” Lyla spun around again in a full 360 before coming back to face Miguel and point her pen at him. “If he’s too hard to fix, then they were thinking of scrapping him for parts and testing and everything.”

Scrapped. For parts.

“They won’t scrap him.” Miguel frowned. “He’s the best host we have. The most successful specimen the whole fucking project's made.”

“Uh, yeah, and that's why they're gonna do their best to save him.” She tilted her head, curious. “No one wants to kill a good dog, y'know.”

It was true. No one wanted to rid Alchemax of one who was dedicated enough to put their life in jeopardy for the sake of protecting their charge. He didn't expect you to go this far. No one did.

–

It took weeks for you to be reinstated as Miguel's watchdog. In the interim, he was appointed a new guard, but life didn’t feel right. He supposed that bonds and trust played into the feeling more than he'd like to admit. Sure, the two of you hadn't really spoken before that day, but you'd been with each other for years. Silently learning about one another, measuring each other's capacity to be trustworthy.

So with a new dog, Miguel felt unnerved, maybe even a bit unsteady. It had been one of them who'd snapped, after all. One of them lost their minds and went on a rampage–which was exactly what the current meeting was about.

“No one saw it coming,” one said. “We didn't think it would happen, and that's the problem, isn't it?”

“Weeell, things are bound to go awry here and there.” Olivia shrugged and crossed her arms. “It's part of science! I'd say this whole drama has given us some pretty good results on the extremes; one imploded and started eating people, and the other one exploded trying to save one of us.”

“Still think we should scrap O'hara's mutt for parts,” Aaron interjected, unhelpful and annoying as ever. “Who knows when that one'll blow too, hey?”

Miguel ignored Aaron. He wouldn’t feed into his prodding and pushing. “He's mine. I decide when he's too dangerous.”

“You sure you're not gonna be blinded by feelings, O'hara?” Aaron spat with an ugly smile. “I saw the footage. You–”

“Oh my God, don't act like you don't try to fuck everyone else's guards,” another scientist groaned. “You're probably why one snapped.”

Aaron's face blistered red. Miguel smirked, enjoying the show, enjoying the fact that no one was on the idiot's side. It was the apocalypse. Fucking mutants was the least of their worries.

Stone, exasperated, called it there, and everyone dispersed. Miguel took his time with his thoughts in the silence of the room. The lack of people around him sparked a jolt of adrenaline, or maybe fear, and sent his train of thought off the rails and into something ungodly. He hated being alone these days. He couldn't bear the thought of being the last man standing, of having to fend for himself after everything. Not that he would have to, no, not unless your replacement did him in, or–

“Sir?”

Miguel turned and nearly knocked his chair off its wheels. He clutched the desk in a panic just before his eyes landed on you.

You looked different. Streaks of faint scars painted the side of your face where an eyepatch hid away whatever wreckage laid beneath. A metal brace hugged one of your knees and dripped down into a glittering, high-tech prosthetic limb that told a story Miguel didn't want to indulge in. And you looked tired. So tired. Your voice, once something rough like sandpaper, now sounded like shattered glass grinding underfoot.

But you still had that placid, somewhat judgemental stare that told him, I'm alright.

Your brows raised expectantly, like your return didn't need to be celebrated and you'd much rather like to get on with your day of following Miguel around like a lost puppy. He could relate, and he could comply.

–

Acting normal until getting you into his new quarters was tough; Miguel had the inexplicable urge to touch you, see your skin, feel your heat singe his palms, but he wouldn't do it in the eye of the others, no. Not for his own decency, but because they didn't deserve it. You were all his.

Miguel was sure to lock the doors and initiate an armoured lockdown to ease his paranoia before he turned to you with a demand on his tongue: “Strip.”

You quirked a brow. “This didn't go so well last time.” But you complied, clearly trying to hide away your amusement.

“It's fine. We're fine.” He helped you pull the vest and the shirt off just like he did all those weeks ago, but now with more finesse and determination; he wanted his do-over, and he was going to get it. “I need to see for myself.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your shoulders once your bare skin hit the air and prickled with goosebumps. Even the lifeless spots with angry reddened scars recoiled from the sharp nip, and then the heat of Miguel's touch.

He dragged his gaze all over you, drinking in the ruined expanses of skin with hungry eyes. Every new mark was examined, every stitch and bandage touched and committed to memory, every bruise earned the softest graze of fingertips. It was hard not to be enticed with one another in that tense, long silence.

Miguel's eyes lingered on your split lip before meeting your eyes, reading whatever he could from you. But he didn't expect what you said.

“You get hurt?” You grumbled.

Miguel shook his head lightly, his attention unwavering as his hands made themselves useful and plucked loose the buttons on your cargos again. “I'm fine.” He pulled the zipper down next. The muscles of your abdomen rippled against the palm keeping you still. “Sore from you throwing me, but fine.”

The corner of your mouth twitched. “If you'd listened and moved–” your next words dissolved against the brutish lips colliding with yours. Miguel's hands slipped further below and palmed your soft cock through the thin material of your undergarments; apparently you weren't surprised by the candid dick grab, but the kiss of all things threw you for a loop. Miguel moved to leaving marks along your neck while your brain scrambled to make sense of the random affection.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You breathed, unsure of where to touch or what to do with your hands.

“Picking up where we left off.” Miguel squeezed your filling bulge again, eagerly massaging you in encouragement to get things going. His ego swelled when your hand found his shoulder after a particularly weak spot was found.

“Hah. I shouldn't be–”

“You'll manage,” he insisted, watching you like prey trying to woo its predator. “You probably haven't been touched like this in a while, si, guapo?” Your hips jolted against his hand while his husky voice drew you in. “Bed. Now.”

You didn't have much of a choice, not when Miguel's needy hands guided you to the soft sheets and forced you to lay down. You were just in the middle of a sore groan when Miguel pulled your waistband down just enough to free your hardened cock, and give you a fierce dose of whiplash between the pain of healing wounds and the bliss of hands on you.

For all of Miguel’s want, now that he was this far, he wasn’t sure where to take it. He was going to make you cum, obviously, but how would he go about it? Handjob, blowjob, actually taking it up the ass? Some were obviously more impactful than others, so–

“Christ, alright, now that you’ve played with my dick, we can put it away for today, Doc,” you grouched, sitting up to pull Miguel’s hand away. “I’m too tired for this shit.”

“Wh–no.” He swatted your hand away like a petulant child and shot you an equally childish glare. “You have to obey my orders, as far as I recall.”

Something akin to a deadpan hit your face. “You’re fucking joking. You’re gonna pull that shit now?”

“You’re my subordinate,” Miguel reminded, not bothering to hide his smug demeanor and faux innocence. “Act like it.”

Before you could bitch back, he started stroking you firmly and slowly, squeezing harder near the tip and base with every motion. You stopped complaining surprisingly fast–Miguel almost wanted you to fight him more, but, maybe for a first run, your utter compliance would serve him. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to hold you down or fend off your grabby hands while, at the same time, trying to get a handle on how to properly please another man.

Just when you sounded like you were about to object again, he took you into his mouth, and shut you up. At that moment, Miguel was glad you were touch-starved. Otherwise, the inexperienced gags and hefty strings of saliva connecting his lush lips to your throbbing length would’ve surely shortened Miguel’s lifespan. He was supposed to be good in bed. He was good in bed. And he’d make damn sure to continue being good in bed with another man.

Your hand fisting in his well-kempt hair had him growling with warning, thinking you were going to try to make him stop, but one glance up at you through teary lashes washed that thought away; your eyes were shut, bottom lip caught between your lip and welling with the faintest bit of blood from those elongated canines of yours. A kinder shade of crimson painted your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a sweet summer colour that seemed to darken more when Miguel bravely slipped you down his throat and up again.

“Shit. Fuck. Shit.” You let go of his hair with a pathetic whimper and collapsed onto your back, hands reaching back to claw into the wall and headboard to try and expel your rattling energy someway, somehow. The grating of metal and long, deep marks left in your claws’ wake would piss Miguel off any other day, but right now, your destructive praise fed his ego until it threatened to burst.

But a slight shift from the scientist and a misplaced hand on the convergence of flesh and metal shook up the easy rhythm. You hissed and sat up, reflexively snatching his hand away from your leg with barbed fingers. Miguel pulled off of you with a choked yelp rattling in his throat as your hold drew blood, and like a dog who'd bit another too hard, you let go.

“Shit, I didn't mean to–” you stopped yourself, though, and instead took Miguel's hand with a less-lethal touch. You looked at the wound before leaning down and running the flat of your tongue against the wound once, twice, thrice. The pain subsided quickly after, leaving behind a tingly, sparking feeling. “Doesn’t look too bad.” Miguel watched your nostrils flare and pupils dilate–clearly, his blood was having an effect on you. And that fact was having an effect on Miguel, in turn.

The apology for hurting you was long forgotten by the time Miguel leaned up and kissed you, holding the side of your face with his wounded hand. He pushed hard against the tip of your fang until spongy flesh gave way, and the vile tang of blood pooled in his mouth, and now in yours.

You moaned, or maybe growled, and Miguel’s hips jerked. He worked on slipping his weeping tongue around your mouth while his good hand continued his work on your stiffy, eager to finish you off while you were distracted. Your hands clutched at him again, claws still nipping into his skin and clothes, but more like a cat kneading its owner rather than a lion latching onto prey.

But those barbs sunk deep into him when you came. Your hold on him tightened, and the low growls reverberating through your body crescendoed into a few, cherished moans when your lips left his as rapture hit you. Miguel spared a look down at the mess you’d made, but too quickly his gaze returned to the bobs of your Adam’s apple, the muscles pulsing and tensing in the aftershocks, the sheen of red coating your cracked lips. It was enough to make him come undone, untouched by you, only fulfilled by the rub of cotton on his hardened cock.

And of course, you noticed it right away. Ugh. “You’re a freak,” you scoffed out between breaths. “Fucking–cumming from, what? Getting your pet off?”

Miguel rolled his eyes to betray his embarrassment, and squeezed you hard at the base to pull one last mean, choked groan out of you. “Callate. You could try being grateful, hm?”

“Don’t think that’s in my programming.” You leaned back and looked down at the mess. “Who’s gonna clean this up, Doc?” You prodded looking up at him through your lashes.

Miguel’s intrigue piqued. “Here I thought you were too tired,” he mocked.

“Might change your mind tomorrow. Oughta cash in while I can.”

“Hm.” Miguel let go and leaned back, shaky fingers working on his own clothes. “Guess I can give you another treat.”

But, as fate would have it, one more go of it turned into five, and left him half-alive come the morning.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv imagine #atsv reader insert #male reader insert #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel x male reader #male!reader #atsv male!reader insert #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #phyrestartr

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milkmissiles · 1 year ago

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Mha boys when you have a stomach ache

(Because I am currently in excruciating pain lol)

Fluff. Literally just comfort and fluff. A little bit of implied spice.

Character index: denki, bakugou, shouto, kirishima x GN reader

Denki

This bitch would be so dramatic.

He would ask you all the questions.. like for someone who isn't book smart at all he sure does know a shit ton of symptoms.

Please humor him though he just wants to make sure your not dying.

I mean waking up in the middle of the night to see you curled up in a ball, tears rolling down your face, and your entire body tense and shaking is definitely a terrifying site for this poor boy..

But once you convince him you actually are not on deaths door, he will calm down a bit. He's still freaked the fuck out and absolutely has no idea what he's supposed to do but he will try his best.

He will hold you close all night, rubbing small circles into your stomach to distract you, if it's really bad he might give you some little shocks to distract you more.

In the morning, he'll run you a hot bath, helping you get in. But he won't leave you to your bath without saying something like, "Aren't you gonna be lonely in there without me? Y'know I could totally join you~"

He really likes to test his luck...

But once you shoot him a bit of a glare, indicating you are definitely not in the mood with the pain and all. He will leave you to it.

Although you have to admit baths are a lot more boring without him around...

Bakugou

He would somehow find a way to get mad at you?

Like bakugou wakes up to see you like dying on the floor, trying to find a comfortable position, and his first thought is to scold the absolute shit out of you...

"What the hell's up with you? Why are you curled up like that on the floor? You're gonna give yourself a headache if you sleep without head support idiot! Get back on the bed right now you stupid fuck!!"

He literally drags you back into bed by you collar before storming out of the room. He comes back with an advil, a glass of water and a snack and pretty much stuffs your face with them.

"You have a stomach ache, huh? Well, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that piece of toast you dropped on the floor!! I swear if you didn't have me you'd be dead! How stupid do you have to be to get yourself sick like this huh?? Huh?!"

He would say all this while stuffing a pain killer down your throat and force feeding you a granola bar...

"C'mon eat. You can't take advil on an empty stomach dumbass! Get it together you should know this!"

Once he's done scolding you, he'll huff, laying back down on the bed. Positioning himself so he's spooning you. One of his hands on your stomach, the other in-between your thighs. Turning himself into your own personal heat pack.

He'll make sure you get to sleep before he let's himself fall back asleep.

In the morning, he'll make you breakfast, your favorite breakfast in fact. The whole time grumbling about how its your fault he got no sleep last night. Shoving a plate of beautifully cooked food infront of you...

As pissed as he makes you think he is, he really was worried about you.

Shouto

As cold as the people who don't know him think he is. You know him well enough to know he's a huge softy.

He would immediately ask of your ok. Rubbing your back gently. He doesn't even skip a beat when he sees you curled up in child's pose on your shared bed, your breath sharp and unsteady.

Asks you if you need need anything, and when you respond with a sad sounding "sleep," He smiles softly at you. Thinking you look kinda cute like this..

After he gives himself a moment to figure out what you need, he'll go to your medicine cabinet and get you a painkiller. He'll pour you a glass of water and light a sented candle for extra relaxation. He is determined to get you some sleep.

He will pet your hair softly, speaking to you with the gentlest tone.

"Hey, y/n... can you sit up for me, please? I got you a painkiller, but you need to sit up to take it...*

He would help you up, giving you the pill and the water. He would help you lay back down. Cuddling you up to his left side and heating it up a bit to help your muscles relax. And if you start getting too hot, he'll place his right hand on the back of your neck. Cooling you off.

He would keep you at the perfect temperature to sleep. And you would sleep. Surprisingly enough, one of the best sleeps of your entire life.

Kirishima

This poor boy is absolutely lost.

He has zero idea how to help you and is instead left trying to calm you down as you sob into the bed sheets...

(Please, he's so freaked out)

I can see him patting your back like an awkward dad y'know?

He tries to talk you out of it too. Trying to act like he's not scared out of his mind that you're dying or some shit..

"Hey.. hey. You're ok.. you're ok, right? You're fine. Im here. You don't have to cry.. please don't cry.. are you okay??"

He's trying so hard but is so confused. Your talking is almost unintelligible through your tears, but eventually, he hears a soft, "advil..." Through the sobs.

He will fetch you some immediately. It takes him less than a minute before he's back. Advil in hand. A very determined look on his face.

Within like 30 minutes your passed out on his chest again. Sleeping oh so peacefully. He can finally breath, thanking the gods your ok. He was so worried you have no idea. Or I guess you probably do considering how he was fumbling over his words and desperately trying to help you. Now he just runs his hands through your hair, falling asleep in the quiet bliss of your breathing.

He will research the fuck out of this in the morning and make sure he is well prepared for the next incident. After all it is so not manly to not know how to care for your significant other..

#mha #mha denki #mha bakugou #mha kirishima #mha todoroki #mha shoto #denki headcanons #denki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #bakugou headcanons #todoroki headcanons #kirishima headcanon

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lxvvie · 1 year ago

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NOOOOO HOW CAN YOU PUT THE GIRL DAD!SIMON IDEA IN MY HEAD LIKE THAT :,,((( THE CRY I CRODE

excuse my word vomit but if i may......

eldest girl is a worrywart and openly affectionate but has the tendency to be a scaredy-cat sometimes (she still has to conquer her nerves with the family dog, the retired military K9) while the youngest girl is a spitfire and plays rough (even with the dog, bless it), big emotions in a small girl and Junie for Junior???? You. Have. Gutted. Me...

also, they are very eloquent and articulate in communication and can effectively carry conversations at the young age of 4 and 3 because the parents (mostly, if not all the time simon) talk to them like they're 30 year-olds. they can say stuff "Saskatchewan" and "irrevocably" without breaking a sweat. the eldest catches papa's accent from time to time while Junie speaks without/has mum's.

there was one time papa simon came home with some new booboos: one on his shoulder (just right above the tattoo of his girls' names) and on his jaw (from shrapnels, let's say). eldest girl was playing up the doctor role, citing some random stuff from her little book and putting pink bandaids on it while junie was, well, scared of papa being all hurt. i imagine simon had to have a one on one with her before bed time, just him and her on the bedroom floor whilst the missus is explaining the sitch to their eldest in the master bathroom. all is a resolved with a big hug and a "y'know that papa's a big toughie, don't you june?"

("yes..." junie would reply, still catching her breath from all her crying earlier. "but none of this next time.")

when all is well and the rowdiness of the riley household has died down for the day, the missus can reward the big papa with some sweet lovin'

(the additional scar on his jaw is getting to her pussy :((( its making him all the more rugged under that blond stubble... perhaps baby no. 3 is in the making)

Anon, this is beautiful.

Doc and Junie have a tendency to call their peers knobheads when they get irritated and the missus bans Simon from using that word around them. It is ineffective.

Also, baby number 3 is conceived that very night that Simon gets back, and while he's away on assignment sometime later, his girls tell him that mum's been a little under the weather and kinda cranky when he does his daily check-in.

"She said the word today, papa!"

"...Oh? What word, June?" and she'll whisper, "Knobhead," all conspiratorial and shit 'cause who knows if Mum's around listening lmao.

He and the Missus talk later on and she rants about that one knobhead at the store and how the produce section really smelled something fierce today and then she stops mid-sentence like... "Oh... oh, bloody hell."

M'hm. 👀

Sometime later Simon gets a picture of multiple positive pregnancy tests and a text that reads, "This is all your fault. 🙃"

He'll happily take the blame for it. Junie and Doc have been asking for a little brother for some time now.

#call of duty #dad!simon #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #call of duty x reader #x black reader #call of duty x black reader #task force 141 #cod x you #cod x black reader #cod mwii #cod mw3 #cw: pregnancy

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taylormarieee · 1 year ago

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~Surprise~

Request: Could I request a Rick Grimes x reader where the reader tells him she’s pregnant. Just pure fluff

WordCount: 657

Pairing: ~Rick Grimes x Fem!Pregnant!Reader~

Warnings: None just pure cute fluff!

You and Rick have been together for a while. You loved him for so long. So the night where he confessed his feelings for you, you were completely shocked.

You and Rick have been talking about having children since you first found Alexandria. You guys were finally safe so, why. not. I mean you already had Judith and you thought of Carl as your own.

You guys tried and you thought there was something wrong. You though maybe you couldn't have kids or maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

But one night after you and Rick tried for the last time and you took the test while he was sleeping. You tested positive for being pregnant!

You were so happy you cried almost all night. You just didn't know how to tell him because he assumed you gave up already.

Rick was devastated from the amount of times you both tried so you were scared almost to tell him.

So instead of telling him you were gonna tell everyone in your group that knew.

So you set up a meeting at your shared house with all the group members.

Aaron, Carl, Maggie, Daryl, Glenn, Tara, Gabriel, Rosita, Abraham, Sasha, Carol, Eugene, and Michonne.

You told them and they were all happy for you both! They made plans to get you everything you needed plus there was a doctor. You told them about Rick.

"He doesn't know!" Maggie exclaimed.

"No. I'm scared to tell him because he gave up and so did I. I didn't think this would happen! I wanna do something big for him and tell him!" You say.

"Ya gotta tell him," Dary says.

" I know dar, so can you guys help me? y'know plan a big party?" You ask with pleading eyes.

They all nod and confirm they will help you. Over the span of the next few weeks, all of you decorate the other house the group shares and decorate it for you and the big reveal.

Today's the day when you reveal to Rick that you're pregnant. Everybody waiting in the house for him to arrive. Daryl guides him up the steps, due to him not being able to see anything and leads him inside the house.

You pace nervously and your hands are all sweaty. Rosita holds your hand and Aaron has a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving you a 'It's going to be ok' look and you stop worrying.

Daryl removes his blidfold and Rick's eyes imediately fall on you. His beutiful wife.

"Hey sweetheart, What going on?" He asks in that southern accent you love.

"You know when we tried to have a child and it was never working out?" You ask.

He shakes his headand lets out a small 'mhm'.

"Well a couple weeks ago, I took one last test and..." You hesatate and look back at he rest of the group. They all smile and gives a thumbs up erging you to continue.

"Hun, what is it? You c-can tell me." He says.

You can hear the quiver in his voice. Did he think you were about to tell him bad news? Oh god!

"And, I'm pregnant Rick, with your child!" You say with a smile on your face. Hiseyes immediately widen. He grabs you and spins you around, his laughter echoing in the entire house.

"Oh my god! My wife is pregnant! My lovely wife! Oh how much I love you! I'm having a BABY!" He shouts at the top of his lungs.

You laugh as he spins you around and you kiss him.

He puts you down and covers your face in kisses. You giggle and the rest of the group horays and cheers!

Daryl gives his brother a hug and the res of the group join in for a group hug.

Rick hugs you once more before kissing you.

"Surprise baby!" You say smiling.

"Aww, god I love you." He says happily.

Thank you so much for requesting this! It was beautiful and I loved it so much!

Taglist: @rickswh0r3@sinsandsweetness @murdadixon @dixongrimesgirl @carlsdarling @carlgrimesenthusiast @catt-leya

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #the walking dead #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes x you #Pregnant reader

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sometimeslapine · 3 months ago

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[…Store-Bought Is Fine]

(the part two to the previous story! things get a bit more intimate...)

Shutting the door, locking the door, testing the door.

Satisfied, she slung the car keys back on their wall-mounted hook, and loudly announced her arrival home to nobody in particular. It was almost midnight.

She knew her roommate was out for the weekend, off to some convention thing. She knew she still had the house to herself for at least a few more days, but it never hurt to check. A little peace of mind goes a long way, especially given the whole… y'know. She was pretty sure that they were pretty sure that they knew the nonsense stuff she was into, but, still.

She looked down at the brown bag of oddities picked up about an hour earlier. She's really going to go through with this, huh. It almost felt anticlimactic, in a weird way? She'd mentally ran through this scenario about a dozen times on the drive home, almost burning the novelty of the situation out. Still, though…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The clock finally struck twelve, and she set to work, full of eager energy. She'd always been a bit of a night owl (partial consequence of her hobbies), so it wasn't long before most of the kitchen was an absolute mess. It's the saffron, you see. A nightmare to refine when all you've got is the kind of second-hand electric stove a a certain landlord would "so graciously" provide with the place. A few dozen croquaenen stigmas removed, drying out as best they can over the low heat of a burner.

Several of the other reagents had been prepped by the time she was starting to grind up the would-be saffron in a mortar. Most of it was ready-to-use from the get go. Wasn't a lot to extracting the lavender oil, normally, but the need for a dry environment limited her options a bit. No boiling water, no steam allowed tonight. Still, she managed.

One in the A.M. finally landed, and she was prepping the space in her bedroom. The new moon tonight gave no ambient light to work off of, but old habits and comforts kept her craft project close to an uncurtained window, regardless. Small heat-resistant tarp laid out, sigil carefully drawn with the saff powder, lavender oil spread thinly around the perimeter, incense lit to set the mood, gemstones and the elemental charm each placed at a focal point in the design, and, uh,

…Hm,

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, she held the unlabeled bottle of that ficus sap stuff in her hand, gently rocking it back and forth in contemplation, feeling the viscous weight slowly shift its center of gravity, watching it coat the inside walls. She honestly had no idea what to do with the this stuff. Not for consumption, obviously, but uh. Damn. Really regretting not asking for clarification now.

Well, she was nothing if not one to improvise.

Running back to the kitchen to grab a small cup, she dipped the air charm in by its band and spilled enough of the latexy sap in to completely coat the thing. That's basically what balloons are on a technical level, right? A latex coating encasing air? Or the representation of air, anyway. That makes sense conceptually, right?? Yeah. What's the worst that could happen.

She carefully laid the encased charm back down on the decorated tarp, its position on the sigil representative of one's body. For good measure, she gave the same treatment to several of the gemstones, carefully removing them all from the mixture with a small pair of tongs. Another moment to dry, then back into their place they go. Again, why not.

She had herself a mostly-complete alchemy circle. As a final precaution, she opened the bedroom window to that moonless sky (cautiously, only giving about 12 or so inches of an opening), aiming her tower fan to cycle air out. She didn't know how much smoke this thing was about to put off, and the last thing she needed was the fire alarm flipping this late at night.

A pause, to admire her handiwork. A photo taken, to document this setup in the off-chance it worked. Just one final reagent to go, and a comparatively big one at that.

She brought a section of the lavender oil to ignition with the still-burning incense, and carefully stepped onto the tarp, into the circle.

There was a blinding flash. The full span of the ring was now quickly ablaze with a low, luminous indigo flame. It was silent, bringing a radiance that almost felt cold. She felt a tingling sensation shoot up her spine; Either an effect of the ritual doing its work, or the nervousness of the situation as a whole. Playing with fire indoors was always a bit of a hazard, but she'd rather not risk doing this particular one outside, not with her fear of heights. Last thing she needed was an open sky without a safety harness.

That tingling eventually spread out across the rest of her body, slowly at first, and then rapidly down her limbs, with an intense heat that felt completely foreign to her. It wasn't the flames, but something more… internal? The closest association her brain could make was someone very gently running a lint roller across every square inch of her body. Weird, gentle prickling sensations, a light tug upwards as if some phantom adherence was being removed. Under any other situation, she'd have kicked back to enjoy the sensory show, but this was nothing but terse apprehension, a feeling that felt like it was going to drag on for eternity.

And then it stopped, just as quickly. The flames sputtered to an emberless ash, leaving a sweet honeyed scent throughout the now-darkened room. She collapsed on the floor, exhausted, panic finally over. Wow, did she ever feel light-headed. Probably should've had something to eat before this.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She laid there on her back for quite some time, hazy attention focusing in and out on the ceiling. Slowly coming-to again, she braced herself for the fire alarm to kick off screaming. The window precaution seems to have done the trick in evacuating the smoke, at least. That's good. That's… good. Wow, did she ever feel light… ah… …light-everything? What… what the fuck.

Was that a sign it worked?

She lifted a hand upwards above her, as best as she could. It felt like her strength was sapped. She- "Holy shit." Involuntarily spoken. She could almost see right through it though, if she looked hard enough. "Holy shit. What the fuck." Propping herself up against the side of her bed, she pulled off her shirt as quickly as she could manage, pausing to lament the smudged ashen marks the sigil left on the backside. It was faint looking down, but sure enough, she saw the carpet underneath, no, directly /through/ her own chest. "Holy shit." It was literally all she could manage, rendered otherwise speechless.

She placed a hand against her belly, and gave a hesitant push. It squished down in, far more than it had any right to, before springing right back up when her pressure relented. "I- I'm a balloon. Rubber. I'm- This is- I- h-hah," before fully giving way to excited laughter. The absurdity of it all hit like a truck.

A beat passed, her taking time to fully come to terms with the changes that had taken place. Right. She did this to herself, intentionally, with purpose. There was only one thing on her mind.

She scrambled across the floor to her closet (as best she could, given the lack of any actual internals that would've helped with that,) and- "Where the /fuck/ is that air compressor." …and unburied the thing she kept hidden but never had a chance to use, covered in dust as it was.

It was by no means powerful, but it moved air around, into things, and that's all she cared about in the moment.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

Plugged in, Powered on, Airflow tested.

With her clothes now fully removed, she did her best to prop herself up against the bedroom wall, naked and reaching (blindly fumbling) around behind her. The still-running hose went it with no resistance at all, and she immediately felt a pressure begin to build around her pelvis before dispersing upwards. Everything quickly felt tight. There was a bubbly tingle. A slight belly bump made itself known, and she stared at it in amazement as she watched the rise and fall of her shallow breaths become more of a rise and rise, and rise, and rise.

The feeling, the experience left her even weaker in that moment. She slid back down to a seated position, grabbing at her own tummy, cradling it as it rounded out to something akin to a basketball, waistline slowly gaining an inch or two every minute, puffing out onto her lap. God, this felt fucking incredible. It was greater, unlike anything she could've imagined (and that imagination certainly wasn't devoid of attempts). The pressure buildup, the restricted movement, the taboo nonsense feeling of it all. It was like getting a really good stretch in that just kept going and going. The bonus vibrations she got from the air compressor's magnet-driven motor traveling through the hose certainly didn't help her feel in any way Normal about it.

it was a few minutes of bliss before a hit of clarity successfully broke through the obsession. she needed room to grow, and the corner of her room wouldn't be viable for long. get up. she should move to the bed, if she could manage.

Right. Okay. She attempted to stand. It was a little easier this time, the pressure keeping her body a bit more taut, less prone to collapse (is this what a pooltoy feels like?) but the vibrational waves of that motor reverberating through her core still kept her weak. It was all so much to feel. She almost looked like she'd swallowed a beachball at this point, and her sides were starting to round out just as much as her front was. Hell, she couldn't even see over the rising dome of her belly anymore.

Moving to the bed, she…

…

Well, She tried to, anyway. She practically fell face-and-tummy first onto the floor with a slight rebounding bounce, coming to a stop on all fours; A clumsy combination of the ever-shifting balance point, and a rough reminder that the hose kept her on a short leash about five feet long.

Y'know what, the floor was fine. She didn't care. She really could not care about anything else. She was suddenly in the perfect position to feel everything, every sensation, straddled over her own ballooning body, feeling the high-pile carpet gently brush across the increasing surface area of her expanding frontside, while her overall weight (or whatever fraction remained of it, this hollow) squished downwards, stretching and distorting her tummy outwards to the sides as much as it did the front.

With some hesitancy, she took the weight distribution off her palms, seeing just how well she could remain in this position without the added support. The shift in balance and the new restriction in room to grow gave a subtle redirection in airflow. A pressure in her chest built up, and she gave a questioning squeeze around her front-right. A squeak vocalized at the unexpected sensitivity, but she confirmed it, face reddening as expanding titflesh slowly billowed out around her grip. It was the first noise she'd made in a while, having been enjoying the experience in silent bliss. Boobs too, huh? God, what a fucking experience.

Minutes passed with the hum of the motor still whirring away in its duty, steadily blowing the girl rounder and rounder, pressure increasing bit by bit. Completely content, she thought back on that squeak she made; Embarrassing as it was, it was the kind of noise you'd expect from a balloon, and she held on to that thought almost in pride, nuzzling her face down in the unexpected cleavage she'd gained. She was more balloon then girl at this point after all, and balloons are meant to get round and squeaky. Balloons are designed for this. It's completely normal for a blimp to want these things, she reasoned with herself. Thi-

Train of thought cut short, her whole world suddenly flipped forward. Sheer size alone had outgrown her ability to retain traction, and her legs were now kicking skyward, hose and all in full display. Only thing that stopped her ending up face-first against the carpet as she tilted forward was her airbag of a chest.

Well, things were… a little more awkward, now.

Attempts at repositioning were challenging; It was a bit of trouble moving her arms around with all the boob in the way, but there was just this… odd resistance, on top of everything else? It's… stiff. Everything felt stiff.

Ah.

She slowly, hesitantly, relaxed as much as she could, taking note of how her arms now found natural resting positions straight out to the sides. They were tough to bend elsewise, and that stiffness was slowly giving way to a new, even-more-foreign feeling of pressure, like nervous butterflies flooding every cubic inch. The feeling was mirrored along her hips, down her legs. She didn't feel at-capacity yet, but the air was already searching for new places to go.

This… wasn't anticipated. Everything gently started to puff ever-so-noticeably rounder, and she was losing mobility fast. She tried to fight it, flailing a bit, trying to shift in any direction, but it only served as a reminder of how sensitive everything was, blown out like this. The air compressor was far too out of reach in this position, and she'd completely lost the mobility needed to pull the hose out. Alright. Fuck. stay calm. take stock of the situation. Okay. Yeah.

She was still mostly center-of-the-room, halfway between the closet and the bed, safe from the danger of pushing into anything sharp, but she really had no idea just how much give she had left in her. The pressure kept increasing in step with her size, and the square footage of this bedroom wasn't ever much to write home about. She could still feel the light reverberations from the compressor's motor, vibrations increasing in intensity, a whine crying out from the little device as it tried to fight PSI it almost definitely wasn't rated for.

Well, that's a potential solution, if she could manage that long. Outlast the motor. Hope it burns itself out. Prooooobably doable. And if she couldn't…

The threat of popping loomed overhead. Jeez… Hell of a way to go. She always knew she'd be done by one of her own spells, but it being something as dumb and air-headed as attempting to live out kink nonsense surprisingly wasn't high up on her list. It just.. didn't really seem all that dignified, to be honest. Hell, just thinking about how silly she looked, all blown up like some parade float mockery of herself, sensitive squeaking with every move, so round, so shiny, so huge, so very fucking huge, and tight, and full and stretching so thin you could see right through her, only moments away from total release like any good party blimp lovingly pushed to its limit and ready to explode, and god why was she so into this, this isn't helping her case, agh, focus, focus,

She was well past the point where internal pressure beat out features. Arms and legs swelling out comically conical, the valley dividing belly and underboob beginning to taper outwards, even her face felt a little bloated. She was over minutes away from being blown full-body spherical, and all she could do was ride it out. The pressure began to peak. Ah. This is it, then.

Closing her eyes, she waited.

Slow, calm breaths, trying to avoid adding any more tension to the body.

She waited, in intense anticipation.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

…Thirty seconds moved by without fanfare.

She… didn't feel any tighter? She was still really fucking tight, but… she didn't seem to be growing. The pump's still flowing, she can certainly feel that much, but the pressure wasn't increasing. Where's the bang.

Why was she almost disappointed…?

It was as if the compressor just couldn't move air anymore. Either that, or she sprung a leak somewhere. Airflow had normalized. She wasn't getting any bigger, but she wasn't getting any smaller, either.

She was just kinda… stuck like this. At least eight feet around, way too blown taut to do anything about the situation, almost completely unable to move (save for a slight rocking back and forth), and thanks to the motor of that hose gently buzzing away in a process she could still one-hundred-percent feel, she'd be stuck here for the foreseeable future, thoughts all but scrambled, with what amounted to a vibrator stuck between her legs. It still felt amazing, but, jeez, what a fucking scenario to be in. Her only possible release was still out at a con for the next few days, completely unaware they'd be coming home to a weather blimp for a roommate. (how on earth is she even going to explain this one.)

But, time still moved forward. She tried to let herself enjoy what she could of the situation. Occasional hushed moans broke through the silence of the night, intermingling with the white noise of the motor working diligently to ensure she'd always be topped off, like any good balloon should be.

…god. this was looking set to be a very, very long weekend.

#txt #writing #full-body inflation #thanks for readin!

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blackdollette · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, "high with Clyde" anon here (and high again, funnily enough). Smut you say? I've had a thought circulating in my mind recently. Going shopping for new clothes with Jack Thurlow and trying stuff on for him to rate while he sits all pretty on that couch they have there (y'know, that one that they have specifically for guys doing the exact same thing?) while you model for him. And for whatever reason - maybe his responses have been rather lacklustre and you want his....ahem, "enthusiasm", or maybe just cuz you're devious like that - you decide you wanna rile him up a little bit. So! At the next store, you grab like, the sluttiest outfits available unbeknownst to him, and then model them all for him, feeling all smug that he's practically drooling at you

And when he finally reaches his breaking point, the next thing you know, you got your feet behind your ears and his hand over your mouth so you don't get caught. 🤤 Idk, do with that what you might. ^^

you've done it again, anon 🙌🏽

"i get dressed to ride for you, baby." | jack thurlow

burning desire. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly @imoonkiss @lankysimp @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt @mommymilkers0526 @greenxgloss @wild-rose-35 @areuirish

female!reader x jack

word count: 1.8k

contents: public sex, unprotected p in v, missionary position, creampie

“you’ve got 5 minutes to try everything on, you hear me?” jack called out as he sat on the small leather couch outside of your dressing room, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms and slumped into the seat knowing full well you were going to take your precious time trying on every single outfit. so much for a "fun" shopping trip.

inside the small room, you had an assortment of clothes in front of you, ranging from long flowy gowns to dark blue baggy jeans and designer sweaters. a top-tier selection of clothes but none of which were to jack’s taste. but you decided to test your luck anyway.

minutes later, you stepped out and stood right in front of him, wearing your first dress. “how’s this one, jack?” his eyes were downcast, looking at something on his phone. you tapped him on the shoulder, only earning half of his attention. “hm? it looks nice, dolly.” you pouted, moving your hand to his chin to make him look at you. “but you didn’t even look at it.” he moved your hand away, looking you up and down with an unamused gaze. “i said it looks fine. now are you finally done so we can get out of here?”

you rolled your eyes, walking back into the dressing room and slipping off the dress. you picked up a skintight black dress that was so long it dragged on the floor. surely this one would grab his attention, you thought to yourself as you paired it with a white, button-up sweater. you put on a pair of light-brown heels that were hidden by the fabric, stepping out once again and patting his cheek.

“what about this? is this one better?” you gave him a little spin, giving him a full 360 degrees of your body in the tight dress. he gave a little smirk in response. “yeah if you wanna look like a nun, i guess. is this the last outfit? i don’t think i can listen to the music in here any longer.” you huffed, discouraged at how nonchalant he was. “yes, im done.” you muttered, walking back into the dressing room to get back into your normal clothes.

you walked out of the dressing room empty-handed, leaving everything behind since none seemed to give you the reaction you expected from him. he took your hand, dragging you out of the store and back into the main mall. “good riddance,” he muttered under his breath. “can we go home now, angel?” your eyes scanned the assortment of stores surrounding you until they landed on one that would surely sell clothes that would blow his socks off.

you shook your head. “not yet, i just wanna go to one more store. please, just one more place?” you begged, staring up at him as he groaned. “only one more. you head on inside, i’m going to grab a coffee. i’ll meet you in the dressing room.” with that, he released your hand and let you go your own way.

you dashed into the store, immediately pleased by the outfits in the display window. you wasted no time picking up everything you saw, picturing the look on his face when he’d see the clothes on you. you walked into the dressing room, starting to change into one of the outfits as you heard his voice.

“you in here, doll?” he said as he sipped on his hot drink, waiting for a response. “i’m here, jack. just gimme a sec, okay?” he nodded, immediately realizing that you couldn’t see his answer. he sat down on the seat in front of your dressing room, sighing as he scrolled on his phone. “this damn girl…” he whispered to himself. then he was interrupted by the noise of you walking out, standing right in front of him.

you didn’t have to tap him to get his attention this time. his eyes were caught by the shiny black thigh-high leather boots you had on. then his eyes traveled up, first landing on your dangerously short pleated skirt and low-cut tube top that showed just enough cleavage to make his breath hitch (this is the outfit). you placed your hand on your hips, looking down at him as he swallowed hard, immediately putting his phone down and gripping the seat.

“now i’ve got your attention.” you remarked smugly. “you like this one, jack?” you took the words out of his mouth, his cheeks covered in a bright pink stain as his mouth gaped open. he cleared his throat, nodding nervously as a stupid little smile tugged at his lips. “y-yeah, this one’s nice, baby. give me a little spin, will ya?” your face lit up and you twirled, making the skirt lift up just a little as your heels clicked on the ground.

jack squirmed, shifting his position so he was sitting with his legs crossed, suppressing a painfully obvious boner. you grinned triumphantly, happy that you could break his cold, hard exterior. you walked back into the room, making that sad that you were going away but excited to see that next set of clothes you’d have on.

minutes passed and jack found himself impatiently tapping his foot as his mind ran wild with thoughts of you wearing such intimate clothes just for him. his hard cock was straining against the rough denim of his jeans, making him groan quietly as he placed a hand on top of his bulge to calm the throbbing sensation.

his foot began to bounce on the ground with anticipation, and soon enough he couldn’t take it anymore. he sprung up from his seat, pushing the curtain of your dressing room to the side and popping his head in. “are you done in here?” you jumped slightly, startled. but jack’s eyes became as wide as saucers as drool began to drip down his lips.

you stood in front of the mirror, wearing a small tennis skirt with a plaid pattern on it, paired with a white silky shirt that was more revealing than your bra. and your cute little feet in those white knee-high socks didn’t help the matter either (the outfit). “jack! i’m not done in here yet!”

he walked into the room, approaching you with a lust-filled haze as you backed into the wall behind you. he closed the curtain of the room, pinning you to the wall and pressing his body into yours, his boner pressing into your stomach. you gasped, the heat of blood starting to pool in your core as he grabbed your face and pulled you into a very sloppy kiss.

“goddamnit, woman… you just know exactly how to drive me crazy, don’t you?” he grabbed your ass, lifting you off the ground and making you wrap your legs around his waist, your clothed, throbbing clit now in contact with his pulsating bulge. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again, this time using his tongue to tease yours with his gentle flicks.

your hips began to grind on his, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure to still your nerves. jack groaned deeply, whipping out his cock and pumping it quickly. you glanced down, seeing that his girth had nearly doubled in size because of how swollen it had gotten. he rubbed his leaky tip on your silky panties, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric.

you let out a shaky moan, grabbing onto his muscled biceps as he set you down on the wooden bench that was meant for clothing. he pushed everything else off, leaving room for only you as he pushed your legs behind your head, the wet spot on your panties much more conspicuous in this position.

jack bit his lip as he grinned from ear to ear. “that’s my little model…” he trailed a teasing finger down your cleavage until he got all the way down to your dripping wet cunt. he replaced his finger with his cock, getting off from the feeling of your wet folds hungrily attempting to swallow him.

“guess we should get these out of the way, huh?” he slipped his cock underneath the thin string that covered your pussy, breaking it away with a light tug. your breath became shaky as the cold air hit your grooling cunt. jack spat on his thumb, rubbing messy circles onto your clit as he lined himself up with your hole.

the tip slipped in effortlessly, along with the first few inches. you moaned quietly, making jack clamp his hand over your mouth. “it would be a shame if we got caught in here, wouldn’t it?” with a low groan, he pushed in the remaining inches of his rod, making your eyes well. with his jeans down to his ankles, his hips began slapping into yours.

your eyes rolled to your back on your head as the perfect curve of his dick made him reach nothing but your cervix. you felt your drool bubbling all over his hand as deep, heavy breaths escaped from his parted lips. his large cock abused and stretched out your tiny hole, much to his pleasure.

his fingernails dug into the back of your thighs as his balls slapped your asshole with every deep thrust. your hands found his wrist and forearm, gripping the skin tightly as a white-hot knot began to tie in your stomach. jack’s orderly thrusts quickly lost their composure as your muffled moans made his core boil.

strings on precum connected him to you each time he pulled out. he flipped his hair out of his face, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed back curses that threatened to break free. “s-shit… that’s it, baby… takin’ my cock so well…”

your back arched as you ground your hips against his, desperately chasing the orgasm that was just in your reach. your gushy folds hungrily ate up his cock, making him toss his head back. “use my dick, angel…just like that.” you brought your fingers to your clit, sobbing into his hand as you felt yourself cumming all over him. he grabbed your hips, fucking you at lightning speed as his balls sagged with cum. in a matter of seconds, he was filling up your tight, swollen pussy with loads upon loads of his hot seed.

he pulled out of you, watching as his cum cascaded out of your hole like a milky waterfall. you panted breathlessly, slowly regaining your composure as jack tucked his cock back into his pants before getting you all cleaned up as well.

you put on your clothes, looking at the mess you two had just made in a public residence. but before you knew it, jack was out of the dressing room, carrying all of the clothes you tried on. you walked behind him quickly. “where are you going?” jack smiled back at you. “to the cashier. i look forward to my little model putting on a show for me every night.” he dumped the pile of clothes onto the counter, the cum-stained skirt above everything else like a cherry on top.

author's note: thank you "high" anon for the request! istg I rlly didn't mean for it to get so long

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lana del rey #smut #jack thurlow #jack goes home #born to die paradise edition #born to die #jack thurlow smut #jack thurlow x reader #burning desire

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baronessvonglitter · 6 months ago

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 14 🍒

"1984"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 2,984

Summary: a pause in the story to focus on Joel's own particularly life-changing moments and uncovering the past which brought him to you.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), TW for brief mentions of teens having sex (nothing in detail and it's all consensual), language, mentions of teen pregnancy, brief mentions of underage male with adult women, underage drinking (it's the 80s), takes place in winter though fall 1984, a small part takes place in July 2003, no use of y/n, TW for unknown parentage, if I missed anything please let me know.

Author's note: I'm a sucker for backstories, if you haven't noticed, and I wanted to give a little insight to what Joel was like as a teenager.

Series Masterlist

February 1984 Austin, TX

Joel waited in the cold parking lot of his high school, cigarette between his lips as he leaned against his dark green Ford F150. "Damn, where the hell is he?" he muttered to himself, checking his watch.

Finally Chris showed up, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, looking at the ground as he walked, his mind a million miles away.

"Fuckin' finally! Where you been?" Joel stamps out his cigarette on the ground. "Shoulda left an hour ago."

"Sorry," Chris mumbled, leaning against the car as well, his face cloudy with worry. "I was talking to Anita.."

"Yeah? What'd she want?" Joel kept his face impassive even though Chris was lost in his own thoughts.

"Man, she's pregnant," he mumbled, letting out the longest sigh of his life.

Joel froze. "Pregnant?" He gets quiet too. "Is she for sure about it?"

"She missed her period twice already. She says she took a test and it's positive."

Joel nodded, his face took on a serious look as he did calculations in his head. "Well, what's she gonna do?"

Chris sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "She wants to get married."

Joel scoffed incredulously. "Is she crazy? Y'all ain't even finished school yet!"

"I know," Chris moaned. "I don't want her to keep it," he confessed after a long quiet.

Joel shook his head. He had no words of condolence to offer his best friend.

"Maybe she'll lose it," Chris whispered, his eyes far away. "She could trip or something, when it's early like this, any little thing could make her lose the baby."

"That's fucked up, Chris."

"She only wants to get married so she doesn't have to live with her parents anymore. She thinks we'd be better off married, living on our own.. I'm not gonna give up my dreams, Joel. I can't. I won't."

Joel sighed deeply. "You wanna get drunk?"

Chris shook his head. "I've got a shift over at the food mart."

"Y'know, I could see if my dad would give you a job," Joel offered. "Construction is hard work, but it'd pay real good."

Chris just shrugged. He was still in shock, still unsure of his next move.

Later, after Joel dropped off Chris, he went home and called Anita. He'd have gone over to her place himself, but her parents were strict and didn't approve of boys coming over.

He locked the door to his room and dialed her, glad that she picked up so he wouldn't have to go through her parents.

"Hey, it's me," he drawled into the phone. "Talked to Chris today. Says you're pregnant."

"Damn it, he wasn't supposed to tell anybody," Anita groaned.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"Why would I?" He could hear the boredom in her voice.

"Well shit, Anita, you know why." He got quiet a moment. "You and me were together around the time you got pregnant."

"That doesn't mean anything, Joel." Anita sighed.

"It sure as shit does. How do you know for sure it's Chris's baby?"

"Joel, Chris is my boyfriend, of course it's his. I must have missed a pill or something. But it is his baby."

"You're tryin' to trap him. He don't want anything to do with this, You shoulda seen the look on his face, like he'd rather walk off a bridge than go through with you havin' a baby."

"Shut up, Joel," Anita said sharply. "He'll get over it. He's gonna do the right thing by me."

"And if the baby ain't his?"

"It is," she said with unwavering tenacity.

"Anita.. Christmas break we went to Sherry Rivera's house party, and do you remember what we got up to in the spare bedroom?"

"Joel.."

"Yeah, I know you remember, 'cause you'd asked me for one last fuck before you stayed faithful to Chris for good."

"Joel, how dare you!"

"It's true though." He stretched out on his bed, vividly recalling that December night with Anita moaning in his ear as she rode him. "How many times did you cum? Three? Or was it four?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"For real, Anita," Joel sat up, his anxiety over the issue finally coming to the forefront. "Is it my baby?"

Anita sighed, and even over the phone he could sense her brain going a million miles an hour. "No, Joel. It's not."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated, fearing she wasn't telling the truth. "Anita, I--" then he heard a muffled voice, giggling on the line. "Tommy!" he shouted, banging on the wall. "Get off the line, you little shit!" More giggling, then Joel heard the other line click and Tommy had hung up.

"My mom's calling me to dinner," Anita said quietly. "Can you just talk to Chris for me? I know he'll come around. He'll listen to you. You're his best friend."

"He doesn't know? About us?" Joel asked.

"Why would I tell him that? It'd break his heart, Joel."

"But he's the one you left me for."

He didn't mean it to sound that way, he was going for accusatory but it came out vulnerable.

"I gotta go," Anita whispered. "Please don't call here again." The line went dead.

It was Valentine's Day, and though he would never tell anyone about it, that was the day he had his first heartbreak. Sure, he'd had plenty of girls since Anita had broken up with him before sophomore year started, and they'd definitely hooked up even since then, but this was the moment he realized he lost her for good. And this was the start of the rift between him and the best friend he'd ever had.

He called up Debbie, a girl in his math class who he knew liked him, and of course she was available that night. He showered, picked her up and took her to the only Italian restaurant in town that had a table available. After spending his last twenty bucks on dinner, he took her an isolated point at Covert Park. A half hour later, the windows fogged up, he got on his way to take her back home.

And so it went for weeks after that. If he wasn't working part time for his dad on the new subdivision in town, he had a girl in his truck, headed off to God knows where, to do whatever the mood struck them.

Summer was worse. He worked with his dad, painting houses, installing AC units and appliances, applying flooring, anything that could earn him money. Sometimes when he worked alone, the lady of the house would be present, and more than a few times the opportunity presented itself for him to take up these older women on their offers of lemonade or a massage, which always evolved into a quick, hard fuck against the countertop, or on a freshly carpeted living room floor.

Nights were his own, usually spent drinking with some guys from the football team who he didn't particularly care for, but they had fake IDs and knew easy girls.

Every time Chris called, Joel was out, with friends or with a girl. The few times Anita and Chris saw Joel out in public was in line at the movie theater, buying tickets for Purple Rain or at the Pizza Hut with a date. Joel turned away when he saw Anita getting bigger, her figure blossoming into that of a mother. Chris approached him to say hi, and Joel was good-natured with him, almost like old times, but it was obvious that something had changed. Anita hung back, hand self-consciously going over her belly, noticing the way Joel seemed to look right through her.

"Ain't you even gonna say hi to me?" she asked him one night, catching him as he came home from a party.

"Thought you told me not to talk to you no more," he slurred, brushing past her to get inside to his house.

"Joel Miller, you're not gonna walk away from me!"

"Shut up," he muttered, stepping towards her as if he'd shut her up himself. "Can't you be quiet? Always gotta shout and moan.. what the fuck do you even want anyway?"

"I'm here for Chris. I want you two to mend your friendship."

Joel let out a hearty guffaw. "Aw Christ, Anita. What's it matter to ya anyway?"

"Can't you be quiet?" she said in turn. "He's not the same since y'all ain't been talkin'.. he barely talks to me sometimes.. I think he misses you."

Joel heard that, and looked Anita up and down. "Does he? I think you're the one missin' me, darlin'."

"Shut up. I didn't say that."

"Ya didn't have to." He grabbed her by the waist and she didn't protest. His eyes hungrily took in her form, the way her breasts swelled over her top, her hips nice and full, and the firm roundness of her belly. "Is that a Miller in there.. or otherwise?" he all but growled in her ear.

"Oth-otherwise," she stammered.

He kept his eyes on her a long while before he finally released her. "Get in. I'm takin' ya home. Ya shouldna walked here all the way. It's past midnight."

She got in, immediately smelling spilt beer, some other girl's cheap perfume, and the unmistakable scent of sex in his truck. "You've been Mr. Popular all summer," she said sullenly.

"Yeah? Jealous?" He started the engine, taking off.

"Over your sorry ass? No way," she muttered, but she kept eyeing him from her seat. "Kelly Johnson said you laid her, then picked up her older sister and fucked her too."

Joel's grin was about a mile wide. "Oh yeah? That's what she says? She forgot to tell you I did their mom too."

Anita hit his arm. "Just let me out here. I'm walkin' home."

"The hell you are." He sped up a little until he reached her house, devoid of any lights on within. "How your folks takin' it?" he asked, nodding at her baby bump.

"They still won't talk to me," she said quietly. "But at least they're letting Chris stay over. We're getting married next month," she said, holding out her ring finger upon which rested a simple diamond ring, probably the best Christ could afford on his shitty grocery mart salary.

"So it's for real." Joel slumped in his seat, gripping the steering wheel tight.

"It's for real," she echoed, and when Joel stayed quiet longer, she leaned in and softly kissed his cheek.

Suddenly all the longing he'd suppressed, all the pain of longing for someone he couldn't have.. everything bubbled back to the surface and he took her in his arms, kissing her. And just like old times they found themselves hurriedly undressing, removing only what was in the way. Pants down around his ankles he pushed up the hem of her dress out of the way as she sat on his lap, holding on to the dashboard as he let her ride him. It seemed to take forever and yet only a few minutes until she came, and he followed soon after.

"Lemme guess: that was the last time?" he muttered as he tucked himself back in his pants.

"You're a good lay, that's all. And Chris ain't been himself lately."

"Give him my regards."

"Damn it, Joel, just call him," Anita said exasperatedly, making herself look more presentable as she got out of the truck. "You're like a brother to him. He needs you."

Joel already had the engine turned back on, a Bob Seger song rumbling on the radio. "I already got a brother," he said, driving off.

He tried. Joel did try to reconcile with Chris. That coming school year they were juniors, and in the same homeroom. But it began to be difficult to start a conversation that didn't automatically become about the baby. And Joel wasn't good with questions like that.

The girls gushed over Anita's large belly when she showed up to bring her transfer paperwork to the alternative school for pregnant teens. Then thankfully (to Joel) she was gone the rest of the semester.

Chris and Joel resumed their friendship about as much as two seventeen-year-olds in their predicament could. Football season started up again, as well as wrestling season, and Joel was at practice constantly. Then in late September, Chris was gone, having dropped out. The night of his birthday he got the call right as dinner was being set down.

"It's a girl," Chris said breathlessly over the phone, his voice tinged with excitement and a tremor of fear. "A beautiful baby girl, and wouldn't you know it, on the same birthday as you, Joel."

July 2003 "Are you kidding me?" you ask. "Joel.. are you kidding me?"

"Huh? What?" he snaps out of his reverie.

"I didn't know you had a mullet in high school!" you burst into laughter. "You look like Billy Ray Cyrus!"

He laughs, running his hand over your soft hair as you stretch out on the bed with him. You'd found the old box of photos in the attic and just had to show him "I can't believe my dad looks so young here.." you say wistfully. "What happened to that truck?"

"I gave it to Tommy when he got old enough to drive. Then I think he sold it later on. Who knows where it is now.. probably busted up for parts or in a junkyard somewhere.." That picture had really cast a nostalgic spell over him.

You fall asleep on his chest, eyes too heavy to stay awake for the ending of Gladiator no matter how cute you think Russell Crowe is.

Joel's mind is on the past. You've awoken memories you had no part of, at least not willingly or consciously.

With Anita and Chris gone, it was like his life, the one he'd always known and always felt comfortable in, was gone too. In the past several months he'd gained popularity and had a few girlfriends but no serious relationships, but none of it really meant anything without his best friend at his side.

Only when Anita had finally graduated from the alternative school did Joel get the call about the news. He was a few weeks away from his own graduation when he learned Chris and Anita would be moving to Houston, where Anita's family came from. The baby was getting bigger, and Chris mentioned that Joel hadn't come and seen her. He had no answer for that, only a halfhearted response that he'd plan to stop by before they moved.

He never did.

After graduation Joel went to work full time for his old man, learning the business that would one day be his. He filled his days accordingly, still broke a few hearts from time to time, still raised a little hell with the boys, but he became more solemn, kept his real thoughts and dreams to himself.

He was in his early twenties when he met Sarah's mom at a club. He hated clubs, preferring laid-back bars, but he'd been suckered into it by some friends from work who wanted to let off some steam. And there she was, on the dance floor, an angel in a short and slinky number, drink in hand, and when she turned her gaze and her eyes met his, Joel swore he'd forgotten any other woman existed.

He didn't remember much about that night except the little apartment of hers, that they had to keep quiet because her roommate had work in the morning. But they were not quiet, and much to Joel's lament the next day, they weren't careful either. A couple of months later she found him at one of his sites, having remembered the name of the company he worked for, and told him, while he was carting a wheelbarrow full of concrete, that she was pregnant. He'd talked her into keeping it, promised her a wedding and anything else she wanted.

He purchased his parents' house, the one he grew up in and had hoped to raise a family in on his own time, and he fixed it up for her and the baby, turning his own bedroom into the nursery. Tommy'd be graduatiing soon and had plans to enlist, so it would all work out. Joel would have a wife and a child, none of which he'd planned on quite so early, but he was looking forward to it all the same.

He tried to make it work with her, but the more time they spent together the more they realized they weren't compatible beyond anything outside the bedroom. He knew it, and still he tried. She knew it, and didn't stay long. The day Sarah was born was the happiest of Joel's life. He'd never imagined that a creature so small, so defenseless, and which cried so often could take hold of his heart in such a way. When Sarah's mom left, leaving only a note regarding her sincere apologies, it struck Joel as more of a relief than anything, even though he was now a single dad. He had help from his parents and brother, and even from his neighbors, cousins of his old buddy Chris who remembered Joel with fondness.

Days sped up, and soon Joel took over the business when his father got too ill to take care of things. Sarah and Joel became their own little unit, a family of just two that still seemed to work more efficiently than traditional families. Sarah looked so much like her mother that at times it hurt Joel just to look at her, but she was an entirely different person: strong, stubborn, extremely smart and savvy. And independent. Joel was proud of the way he raised her, and never considered that he'd love anything else as much or have as much to lose.

And then he met you, and you fucking changed everything.

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motelsnleatherseats · 3 months ago

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A new school year was on the horizon as the summer days were coming to an end. Dean had spent the weekend with Sam dreading it and complaining, asking why he couldn't just get his GED like Dean did so he wouldn't have to worry about school anymore, but John wouldn't stand for it, and if there was anyone in the Winchester bloodline that was gonna actually graduate and get their diploma, it was going to be Sam. Plus it kept Sam busy and out of trouble on the days where he'd bring Dean along on a hunt. But he was going to do it the right way, Dean would make sure of it.

"What are you going to do while I'm at school?"

Dean breathed out a long exhale as his fingers idly massaged the back of Sam's scalp as he rested his head on his chest. He was half-laid up on him in a familiar and comfortable position. The television was off with the distant sounds of cars passing along the main road outside of the motel granting them occasional background noise.

"Might find some part time work. Hustle or whatever," Dean commented as his eyes fell shut. It had to be approaching midnight.

He'd find a way to keep himself busy, but he knew he'd always have to be available if John called and needed something. He could potentially pick up a local case if one ever presented itself, but his main objective was just to keep an eye on Sammy.

"Kinda miss when you were with me at school," Sam commented and Dean gave a short laugh.

"Speak for yourself," he replied. "You're the smart one. Tests and books ain't really my gig. Plus the teachers were nothin' like they were in pornos." Dean cracked one eye open to gaze at Sam with a half grin.

"Shut up," Sam spoke as he nudged him before he shifted his glance up towards Dean, moving his hand to draw little patterns against his chest with his index finger. "You're smart too, y'know. I just meant I'm gonna miss not being around you all the time."

"I'm still gonna pick you up and drop you off, it won't be that long. I'm actually kinda shocked you're not sick of me already." Dean moved his hand to cover Sam's against his chest before he curled his fingers against his palm.

Sam went quiet for a moment as he seemed to mull over Dean's comment, pinching his lips together as if sealing off the words that sat on the tip of his tongue. He recognized the look, the little pouty expression that his little brother used to get when he'd spend too much time chatting up girls before this whole thing between them got started.

"Sammy."

"You're not gonna find someone else while I'm not around, are you?" Sam responded abruptly. Dean gave a laugh, much to Sam's dismay because he was met with a petulant scowl and a whine.

"Seriously? C'mon, man, I'm not gonna go prowling for chicks while you're at school," Dean replied with a lift of his eyebrows. He may have had that reputation before, but Sam was in the picture now. Even if he had contemplated the seriousness of their situation, he knew that Sam's jealousy and possessiveness would be hell to deal with if he even considered getting something on the side.

"Promise?" Those damn puppy eyes. Dean lifted his hand to cup his cheek before he leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

"I promise. Now let's get to sleep, gotta get up early to get you to school tomorrow."

The day dragged on longer than Dean expected it to. After a morning of Sam seducing him with heated make out sessions and heavy petting to try and convince him to let him stay home, Dean found himself hesitant to drive away even after his brother had walked through the main doors of the school. They hadn't really had a conversation about what they were in terms of a relationship, but Dean had an inkling that Sam would classify them as exclusively together. That didn't really bother him, in all honesty. Ever since they had their first kiss, Dean's eyes found themselves fixated on his brother more than anything, and any desire that he used to have when it came to flings or one-night stands had basically disappeared completely. What did bother him was the fact that Sam was still so young, and maybe the feelings he had towards Dean were getting wires crossed somewhere and he was mistaking his familial bond and reliance on Dean to take care of him as something on the more romantic side. A new school year meant a new opportunity for Sam to meet other people, and maybe that'd be good for him.

By the time the school day came to an end, Dean had posted up outside against the Impala, glancing at his watch to count down the minutes before a rush of kids would come flooding out of the doors.

"Dean Winchester?"

Dean turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice, his eyes falling on a pretty brunette with a pretty smile heading his way.

"Rhonda?"

"I thought that was you. I mean, kinda hard to miss with the car and all," she retorted as she came up to him as he pushed himself from the car, turning to face her better. "Thought you were leaving town before summer," she chided, giving him a playful push against his shoulder.

"Ah, yeah," Dean chuckled, giving an ostentatious shrug of his shoulders and a signature cocksure smile. "Plans changed. Dad's job kept him around longer than expected. What are you doing here?"

"Uh huh, and here I thought you were just making something up to let me down easy," Rhonda responded with a tilt of her head, but that smile still remained on her lips. Shit, she was flirting. "Picking up my sister, she's a freshman this year."

"Oh yeah, uh.. Darla, right?"

"Mhmm. And you're here for... Sam?"

"Sammy, yeah," Dean spoke, and is if on cue, the bell had rang and students started the migration out of school. Dean shifted a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets as he glanced towards the doors to scan for his brother.

"How could I forget?" Rhonda said with a grin before she stepped into Dean's personal space and nudged his arm with hers, drawing his attention back down to her. "Well you know, since you're hanging around a little longer, maybe we could get together? Catch a movie or something?" She offered. Dean felt a small clench in his chest, something akin to uneasiness. "I picked up a couple more things from the lingerie store," she added in a whisper and Dean's cheeks grew hot.

"Hey, hey, that was a one time thing," Dean replied with a nervous laugh, clearing his throat afterward.

"I know, I was talking about for me," she purred.

"Dean?"

Dean whirled around like he had just been caught in the act, Sam standing on the other side of the Impala with his eyes going back and forth between the both of them.

"O-oh, hey, Sam. How was school, are you ready to go?" Dean asked and stepped away from Rhonda, moving to open the passenger door for Sam who was on the brink of staring daggers at him. "C'mon, let's go grab something to eat, huh?" He offered as he ushered Sam to get in with a short huff of a protest from his little brother. He moved back around to the driver's side where Rhonda was still standing, watching him with an inquisitive gaze. He awkwardly slid passed her and against the car to get to the door before flashing her an uncomfortable smile. "Sorry, we gotta go. It was, ah.. nice running into you," Dean spoke before he climbed into the car.

"Yeah, same here..." Rhonda trailed off, lowering herself a bit to gaze better through the window at him. "Call me sometime, yeah?"

Dean gave a tight lipped smile and a half nod of his head before he watched her walk off and flag down her sister before they had gotten into their own car. He sat there in uncomfortable silence for a few long moments, feeling Sam's eyes boring holes through him.

"What the hell was that?"

"Nothing. She just recognized me from a few months back, came over to say hi," Dean answered, starting the car before he pulled them onto the road, all but peeling out of the spot.

"'Call me?' Did you have a thing with her?" Sam asked, his arms tucked tightly over his chest with his back against the passenger door, keeping as much distance as he could between them to display his trepidation about the whole situation.

"What? No, Sam, c'mon," Dean retorted with a snort. "I mean, well.. once, but it was a long time ago, way before you and I even started doing anything," Dean defended himself, chancing a glance towards Sam. He looked pissed. "Look, she just came over to say hi, that's all, I swear. I'm not gonna call her," he continued, doing his best to convince Sam that it wasn't even a notion that crossed his mind.

The silence persisted. Sam was good at giving the cold shoulder, but he felt that this was probably gonna be worse than just a few hours of no conversation given the fact that Sam had expressed this particular concern the night before. As each second passed, the pit in Dean's stomach grew.

"What's her name?" Sam asked, voice too calm for Dean's liking. He contemplated on asking why he wanted to know or just changing the subject, but there was no point in lying to Sam or avoiding the situation. Whether or not it was his fault, he had gotten caught red handed.

"...Rhonda Hurley."

"Hm."

An uneasiness settled in Dean's shoulders as Sam seemed to signify the end of the conversation with his nonplussed sound of a response. His fingers itched to reach for the radio to do something to cut the silence, but that would have been a bad move as well. They were half-way to the motel before Dean found his voice again.

"Wanna get something to eat?" He offered, voice soft and apologetic.

"Drop me off at the library," Sam retorted.

"What? Why? It's the first day of school." Dean looked at Sam with his eyebrows furrowed. "You're mad at me."

"Just drop me off, please. It's for school," Sam responded, his gaze still out the window, refusing to give his brother any read into his feelings at that moment.

Defeated, Dean sighed and drove towards the public library as requested, though he wasn't happy about it. He wanted to further explain himself, to make sure that Sam knew he had no intention of calling her and if he were to ever run into her in public again that he'd dip out as quick as he could, because being on Sam's shit list wasn't worth it. Once they pulled up, Dean put his arm against the back of the front seat bench and leaned a little closer to Sam.

"Want me to come in and wait for you?" Dean offered and Sam had turned to look at him, his expression still indecipherable. He noticed how his eyes flickered to Dean's lips for a moment he took that cue to lean in for a kiss, but Sam was quicker and had pulled the door open and slid out, leaving Dean awkwardly bent over the center and watching as Sam took a few steps back.

"Don't wait up."

"Sam.. Sam! Hey!" Dean called out, frowning before Sam turned to walk backwards as he headed towards the library. "Call me to come get you, okay?"

Dean was met with a roll of his eyes before Sam had turned back around and headed inside. He was in deep shit and he knew it.

Against Dean's best judgment, he drove away from the library, beating himself up about even letting Rhonda come over to say anything. How could he have known that he'd run into her, let alone have her be trying to get up close and personal right as Sam walked up? He didn't actually do anything, he shouldn't have anything to feel guilty over. He went back and forth of feeling deserving of punishment and coming up with an argument to plead his case to Sam once he gone to pick him back up again, but the guilt laid heavy on his shoulders. He checked his cell phone every 2 minutes to see if maybe somehow the ringer was dysfunctional or maybe his phone was dead, but he knew Sam was making him suffer. An attempt at watching TV was made, but he couldn't focus. His knee bounced nervously, eyes unfocused on the screen before he just turned it off and paced a bit. After an hour of waiting around, Dean knew he had to keep himself preoccupied with something else, so he left the motel and went to the nearest diner to pick up some food for the both of them. Something healthy that Sam liked, even one of those health conscious shakes Dean thought tasted like lawn mowings, just to get on his good side.

Another hour had passed and their food was growing cold on the table. One more glance at his cell phone had him reaching for his keys, the metal digging into his palm hard as he went to pull open the door before someone else had beat him to it, nearly hitting him in the face. Sam stopped abruptly, obviously not expecting to see Dean there.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? I was gonna come and haul your ass outta the library. Why didn't you call me?" Dean asked, though he was relieved that Sam had actually come back.

"I told you not to wait up," Sam responded as he shouldered passed him, throwing his back pack onto the floor by his bed before he flopped back on it.

"Yeah, okay. Like I'm still not gonna worry." Dean watched Sam as if waiting for a further explanation, or just something other than disinterest. He sighed as he received a shrug in return. "Are we not gonna talk about earlier?"

"What's there to talk about?" Sam asked, giving a slow blink as he regarded Dean, eyebrows raised slightly. "You said you weren't going to see her, right?"

"Yeah, but I can tell you're pissed about it," Dean responded, caught a little off guard, though relieved that he wasn't going to make a big deal over it.

"Then that's it, isn't it? I believe you."

Dean's eyes narrowed. This was too easy.

"That's it? You're not mad, then?"

"I'm not mad."

"Okay... well, I got you some food if you're hungry," Dean replied, though still wary of Sam's current emotional state.

"Thanks," Sam replied, flashing a hint of a smile that did nothing to dissolve the pit in Dean's stomach.

Dean had decided to leave the conversation at that, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Sam wasn't going to make a big deal out of it, then there was no need to further plead his case. Maybe Sam was getting better about his little jealousy issues. Hell, he was impressed Sam didn't tackle her upon seeing them talking to begin with in the way he used to act out when he was vying for Dean's attention. Or he was still mad at him and he was putting on one hell of a poker face. He tried not to dwell on the thought for too long even as he stole glances towards his brother to try and get a better reading on him.

The rest of the evening passed quietly, both of them eating in their own time and winding down from the day. Dean had showered first before he had gotten himself ready for sleep, slipping into his designated side of the bed as he heard Sam showering up after he brushed his teeth. He stared at the bathroom door, seconds ticking away feeling like minutes before the creak of the door was heard and Sam stepped out, dressed in his boxers with his damp hair curling by his ears. Dean wanted to ask if he was going to join him, but he swallowed the bit of vulnerability, wanting Sam to make the conscious decision himself.

Relief was an understatement when Sam crawled into the same bed and pressed his form up against Dean's, fitting himself as the little spoon. He curled his arm around his torso and buried his face against the back of his little brother's neck, giving a deep inhale of off brand shampoo and bar soap.

"Did you fuck her?" Sam asked in a voice so quiet Dean wasn't sure he heard right.

"What?" He lifted his head some to gaze at Sam's profile.

"Did you fuck her?" He asked again before he turned his head to meet Dean's eyes. Dean stared for a beat, unsure of how to answer, but Sam's eyes were demanding of a truthful response.

"Yeah," Dean replied remorsefully.

Sam rolled his smaller frame to face his brother, another unreadable expression there as he moved a hand to reach for the amulet around his neck, toying with the adornment. Dean wasn't sure what else to say so he simply moved his hand to caress along his arm in an apologetic manner. Really, he had nothing to be sorry for. Sam knew what Dean's sexual appetite was like long before he had shown any remote interest in Dean or what he was doing with other people. Still, there was a part of him that felt guilty, because he was sure he was all of Sam's firsts, and Sam would never get to lay claim on any of Dean's.

Sam gave a little tug to the amulet in his fingers, tipping his head up to press his lips to Dean's, earning a small sound of surprise from the elder, because where did that come from? Grateful that Sam wasn't punishing him for his truthfulness, he leaned into it and let his eyes close. Sam was quick to deepen the kiss, parting his lips and welcoming Dean to do the same before their tongues grazed one another, the subtle lingering of mint there. Dean moved his arm to curl around his brother's middle, pulling him against him better before Sam rolled on top of him and gave a soft moan. His hand went to reach for the bedside table to turn off the light but Sam reached out to grip his wrist, giving a soft 'mm-mhh' before he lifted his head.

"Did you do it with the lights off with her?" Sam asked, voice a touch breathy. Dean responded with a soft, discontent groan as he tipped his head back with a roll of his eyes, not wanting to think or talk about Rhonda Hurley anymore. "Tell me, I want to know," Sam urged with a roll of his hips down against his groin, this time earning a pleasured groan from Dean's parted lips.

"Y-yeah, Sammy.. lights off," he exhaled, moving his hands down to Sam's hips where he gripped and gave a tender squeeze, pushing his own hips up for more friction.

"Did she suck your cock?" Sam asked, lifting his form to sit up as he straddled Dean and he gave deep rolls of his hips. Dean bit down on his bottom lip as he felt his cock begin to fatten under the pressure of Sam's actions and he slid his hands up along his sides, having a hard time participating in the conversation.

"Jesus, Sam," he exhaled, his green eyes wide as he gazed up at his little brother, a mix between turned on and concerned. It was hard to enjoy dirty talk when it was about someone else. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I wanna do it better," Sam replied as he leaned down and kissed Dean once more before he slid his body down his brother's thighs, trailing his hands down his torso until they were at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. Far be it for Dean to turn down a blow job, but Sam's fixation on what he did with Rhonda was making it feel like some kind of non-existent competition. Sam would win. Every. Single. Time.

"Wait, wait," Dean interjected as he reached down to grip one of the other's wrists, shifting to sit up on his elbows as he gazed down at him. "She's never gonna compare to you. No matter what. You don't have to be better than anyone."

"Then why don't you want to have sex with me?"

Dean's chest felt heavy with the weight of Sam's question. He had put off actually doing the deed with him because somewhere deep down inside, he was afraid that Sam would change his mind about this intimate relationship they had delved into, but now Little Brother was becoming impatient. He fell back against the bed with a sigh before his arm came over his eyes.

"Is it because I'm not a girl? Because I'm not pretty or have tits and a pussy?" Dean could hear the bitterness in his voice.

"No, God no, that's not it at all," Dean replied quickly, dropping his arm and angling his head to meet Sam's gaze once more. Not pretty? Fucking hilarious. "I just.. want to make sure you're ready. That you're not gonna, y'know, hate me for it afterward or change your mind."

"Why would I change my mind? I'm the one that came onto you," Sam spoke, the edge now missing from his tone.

"Because you're young? Because you're confused? I don't know, I worry about shit like that all the time," Dean admitted, silently beating himself up for being a professional boner killer in that instance.

"Are you confused?" Sam asked.

"No.. actually I've never been more sure of anything in my life," Dean replied. If he had to compare everything that he ever felt towards anyone he took to bed, or anyone in general, nothing could hold a flame for what he felt towards his brother. Somewhere along the way of taking care of Sam, of practically raising him, he had put him on a pedestal. Sam was to be treasured, to be revered, to be worshipped, and who better to do that than Dean himself?

"Okay," Sam replied before he flashed him a smile. Okay? Okay??? That's all he could say in response?

"Okay what?"

"Okay, then just shut up and let me suck your cock."

Dean's eyebrows shot up in response, words failing him in that moment as Sam resumed what he had originally planned by curling his fingers in Dean's boxers and tugging them down, letting his cock spring free from the thin material. A soft groan left the elder's lips as he felt Sam curl his fingers around his length, holding it upright before he wrapped his lips around the head, the first touch of wet heat sending a shockwave of pleasure through him.

"Fuck, Sammy," Dean breathed, moving a hand down to push his fingers through his still damp locks, tightening a bit at his scalp as he felt him descend on his arousal, the velvety sensation of his tongue and cheeks making the muscles in his stomach quiver. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled a pleasured sound, watching as Sam tried to take as much as he could into the depths of his mouth, the head nudging the back of his throat and making him lift his head a bit from fear of gagging. "Just.. relax your throat a bit and breathe through your nose," Dean guided, giving another moan as Sam did as he was told, now starting to bob his head.

He had seen plenty of girls go down on him, some more enthusiastically, some with a hell of a lot more experience, but nothing looked or felt better than watching Sam suck his cock. The sight alone made his length throb against his tongue, his thighs tensing slightly as his toes curled against the sheets. The wet sounds were like music to his ears as they were paired with soft little hums and gentle gags when he took too much, but it was perfect. He gave his praises through tender tugs of his hair and groans of pleasure, all while resisting the urge to raise his hips.

Sam pulled up after a few long moments of concentrated bobbing to take a breath. His lips were glossy with saliva and slightly more plump than they usually were with a thick line connecting his bottom one to the head of his cock. Then he grinned up at Dean, mouth poised so close to the engorged head that it gave another throb in his grasp.

"Am I doing okay?" Sam asked, cheeks a little flushed, and God, he's never looked prettier.

"What do you think?" Dean asked as he lifted his hips some to get his cock to slip within his brother's grasp, the hardness against his palm a clear indicator that he was doing a fine job.

"Can we..?" Sam asked, expression so hopeful, how could Dean ever say no? If Sam thought he was ready for it, then Dean would give that to him. He deserved that much.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed, holding his gaze for a long moment before he nodded his head.

"Yeah, c'mere baby," he replied, coaxing Sam back up his form before their lips had joined in another embrace, Dean rolling them over to have Sam on his back. He kissed him with a deep seated hunger, licking into the pink of his mouth as he savored every sensation, his heart beginning to pick up pace the closer they got to sealing the deal. He kissed down his brother's throat as his teeth scraped gently over the thrum of his pulse, earning soft mewls from Sam as he arched up against him. His hands made quick work in discarding their boxers, now a tangle of limbs in the sheets. Dean fit between Sam's thighs, grinding their arousals together as he moved one hand to push under the bend of Sam's knee to bring his legs further apart before he trailed his fingers inward to caress against his sweet little hole.

"You touch yourself here?" Dean asked as he lifted his head, gazing down at Sam who had circled his arms around his neck and gave him a nod as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"Yeah.. just my fingers.. wanted to be ready for you," he divulged, his cheeks taking on more of a pink hue. Dean smiled, bordering on a smirk before he stole one more kiss and detangled them briefly.

He got himself up from the bed with reluctance, but if they were going to do this, he was going to make sure that Sam was comfortable. He rummaged through his duffel for a small bottle of lube he kept stashed, coming back to his brother and resuming his position.

"You still want the light on?" he asked as he uncapped it and smeared some of the clear substance on his fingers. Sam nodded and spread his thighs for him, his lips pinched between his teeth.

"Wanna see you," he murmured in reply before Dean had moved his fingers down to touch against his hole once more, Sam giving a little jolt at the cool sensation. "S'okay," he nodded, granting Dean permission to do what he set out to do.

Dean pressed his index finger against the tight clench of his rim before the lube helped it ease inside, meeting less resistance than he anticipated. Sam's eyebrows knit together at the slight pressure, but he willed himself to relax to indulge in the sensation of Dean actually being inside of him, feeling his digit massage his inner walls as it slipped in and out. It didn't take long before he was able to add a second one, the pinch of additional pressure making Sam wince slightly, but he still pressed his hips down against the feeling, the softest little sounds of pleasure leaving his lips under his brother's thrusting fingers. Dean put his mouth to work to help distract from any pain as he kissed along his throat again and along his collar bones, his cock giving a small impatient throb as he scissored his fingers inside of him, urging a deeper stretch so he'd be able to accommodate his length better.

The wet squelches of lube played a beautiful melody to accompany Sam's breathy sounds, and the drag of blunt nails between Dean's shoulder blades only added to the heightened sensitivity of his body before he lifted his head to find Sam's eyes once more.

"You ready, sweetheart?" He asked, and Sam subdued a wide smile with a bite down on his bottom lip, giving a nod of his head.

"More than ever," Sam breathed as Dean slipped his fingers free. He took what was left of the lube on his digits and slicked up his own arousal with it, moving to grip the base of it before he aligned himself with Sam's hole, nudging lightly against it.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay? And I'll stop," Dean spoke and waited for the go-ahead from Sam, both of them taking a steadying breath before he had pushed forward, the head catching his brother's rim before the resistance let up and he slipped inside with a groan, Sam's body tensing as he sucked in a breath. "Relax, baby. Breathe and relax for me," Dean coached, waiting until he felt Sam unclench enough to allow movement. "I'll go slow," he murmured, voice breathy. The tightness was incredible, and even the way he clenched and quivered around him sent pulse waves of pleasure through him, but he had to remember that this was Sam's first time. Shit, it was Sam's first time. He was taking his brother's virginity.

Dean pressed their lips together again in a kiss, another distraction, a silent 'I got you' in the form of physical affection. They stayed engaged in a lip lock as Sam's hands moved up and down Dean's back, fingertips pressing against the flesh, nails leaving light half crescent shapes against freckled skin until Sam exhaled against his mouth, giving another nod of his head.

"M'okay. You can move now," Sam breathed and Dean went right to work, giving slow and shallow rocks of his hips, feeling the slow drag of his cock against his insides. He dropped his head some, letting his forehead press against Sam's shoulder as he continued to move, his thrusts going a bit deeper, pressing just a little harder. Sam's arms had curled around him as his thighs pressed to his hips, giving little swivels against each movement that made Dean's head spin.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Dean spoke with a voice like tires on fine gravel as he breathed hotly against his skin, earning a soft whine from Sam between his panted breaths. He could tell his brother was biting his tongue at any discomfort, or maybe he enjoyed the slight sting of pain because it made this real and not some porno fantasy where everything was exaggerated screaming moans of ecstasy, but he checked in, making sure Sam could handle it. "Feels okay, baby? I'm not hurting you?"

"Bigger than fingers," Sam managed to reply with a strained laugh as he held at Dean's nape, pressing his mouth against his ear to give more of those delicious breathy sounds. "Don't stop, I want to feel you all the way," he spoke and Dean groaned, moving to find his mouth again as he angled forward and gave a full thrust, bottoming out. Sam arched, parted lips against Dean's as he gave an outward cry. His heels came to press at the small of his brother's back, holding him in place as he quivered and spasmed around him. "Oh fffuck," he whined, chest rising and falling faster. "I feel so full.. nngh, you're so big," he gasped and Dean throbbed.

"Yeah? You like me that deep, Sammy?" Dean asked, his pupils blown wide with lust as he held Sam's gaze, thankful that he opted to leave the light on because Sam's expression was one he'd commit to memory forever. He gave a grind forward and Sam let out another choked sound, giving a nod of his head as his eyebrows knitted together, those stained glass eyes glassy and dark.

"Do it again," Sam urged and Dean pulled his hips back, giving one fluid roll forward to sink as deep as he could which earned him something akin to a sob as he felt Sam suck his stomach in, the tightness around him increasing.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Dean hissed, nipping at the sharpness of Sam's jawline. "Like big brother fucking you?"

"God, Dean," Sam mewled and Dean shifted his hands up along the other's shoulders before he guided his arms up, curling their fingers together on either side of his brother's head. "Yes, yes, I love it so much.. fuck me, please," he pleaded, squeezing his fingers between his own before Dean took the lead and set a rhythmic pace, each stroke deep and firm, causing Sam's smaller form to bounce slightly. Any pain that Sam may have felt either went ignored or dissipated, because he was matching Dean's pace by countering each thrust with a throwing of his hips against his cock as it plunged in and out of him. The sound of skin on skin grew louder in slick plap plap plaps as they exchanged moans and grunts, entranced by each other's pleasured expressions, locked in an intense gaze that only exemplified their desire for each other.

Dean shifted his hips slightly, angling his body down enough to catch Sam's cock between their abdomens. The added stimulation had Sam writhing and he released Dean's hands to bring them to his shoulders, giving a sob of pleasure.

"Wait," Sam breathed, eyelashes wet with unshed tears from the overstimulation. Dean stilled, panting, eyes darting back and forth over his features to ensure that he hadn't hurt him or gotten carried away. "I don't wanna come that fast.. let me just," he murmured, pushing his brother's shoulders to guide them to roll over so that he was straddling Dean now, careful not to have had him slip out. Dean stared up at Sam, sat atop him like it was his rightful throne, face and chest flushed, hair disheveled.

Dean moved his hand to run along the taut, slender torso before him as Sam leaned back some, his hands finding an anchor point right above Dean's knees. He could see every newly developed muscle in his abdomen, the stretch of skin from growing quickly framing his physique so perfectly. He gazed in awe, licking his lips and catching his breath before Sam rolled his hips, lifting and dropping down, sucker punching a moan passed Dean's lips.

"Shit, Sammy," he breathed, fingers now gripping at Sam's tanned thighs, squeezing possessively as he countered his movements with arches of his own hips. "Look so fucking good riding me like that," he praised, moving one hand to curl his fingers around his brother's leaking cock before his hand was batted away.

"No, wanna come on your cock alone," Sam drawled, his expression somewhat dazed. Dean gave no argument as his hand gripped his hip instead, watching as Sam set his own pace, up and down at first, the new position giving him a front row view of the show, seeing just how stretched his cock had his baby brother's virgin hole. He groaned as his lashes fluttered, full set of lips remaining slightly agape as he continued to let pleasured sounds drip from them. And then he sat fully down on him and began to rock back and forth, the grinding of his engorged cock dragging along his insides had his balls seize up, impending orgasm quickly approaching.

Dean's eyes were fixated on the way the muscles moved, the way Sam tipped his head back and dragged one of his own hands up his body, touching over his chest and his neck an into his own wavy locks. He had never seen anything so sensual, so breathtakingly arousing, he could have come right then and there, but he wanted Sam to get off first.

"Oh my God," Dean groaned, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pressed his feet into the mattress, aiding in Sam's riding motion before he saw his eyes flutter shut and his mouth fall open wider upon the constant pressure against his prostate. It only took a second or two more before his little brother was coming untouched, making a mess against Dean's stomach and chest before he was right behind him, forcing his hips down a bit harder before his dick throbbed and pulsated, emptying a hot and thick load deep inside of him.

Little thrusts of hips were given as they rode out their orgasms, both of them soon breathless and boneless as Sam leaned forward and collapsed against Dean's chest. His eyelids were heavy and his body was thrumming with post-coital bliss as Dean caressed along his back, blinking his vision back into focus.

"Goddamn," Dean breathed, taking a moment to catch his breath. "You okay, little brother?"

"Fucking amazing," Sam retorted with an airy chuckle, taking a deep inhale to exhale a content sigh. "Told you I was ready."

"Yeah, you called me out on that one." Dean smiled lazily to himself, bring a hand up to smooth through Sam's hair before he kissed the juncture of his shoulder and neck. Their moment of intimate affection was interrupted by Dean's cellphone ringing, making him grunt and curse under his breath. "That's probably dad. Are you okay to move?"

Sam gave a nod of his head and forced himself to sit up, slowly lifting his hips to have Dean slip out of him, come soon to follow.

"I'm gonna clean up," Sam murmured as he got off the bed with shaky legs, Dean giving a nod before he sat up himself and hurriedly moved to fish out his phone from his jacket pocket, flipping it open as he watched Sam head into the bathroom with a sweet little smile his way.

"Hello?" Dean answered as he flashed Sam the same smile, giving a little head tilt to check him out in the process. He was expecting a gruff voice on the other end but it came out much more feminine, his expression dropping when he realized who it was that was calling him.

"Hey Dean, it's Rhonda. Look, I'm sorry to bother you so late, but you're good with cars right?"

"Uh.. yeah, why?" Dean looked away from the bathroom where Sam was busy taking care of the aftermath, afraid that all the color had drained from his face. What perfect fucking timing to call.

"Weirdest thing happened. I think someone was vandalizing cars in the neighborhood or something cause my tires are slashed and they broke my rear window," Rhonda replied, voice distressed. "I already filed a police report, but I don't know if my insurance will cover all of it. Was kinda hoping to call in favor about getting my tires switched out if you have the time."

Dean's eyebrows pulled together as he suddenly looked towards the bathroom again, swearing he caught a glimpse of Sam watching him through the mirror.

"Oh, um, I'm not really sure.. I'd just take it to a mechanic. Y'know, let the professionals handle it." He wasn't about to get roped into meeting up with her after the conversation he had had with Sam earlier. "I'll let you know. Sorry, I gotta go."

"Oh, okay-"

Dean closed his phone and gazed at it in his grip for a moment or two before he noticed Sam standing in the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Ready for bed?" No question about who was calling, which was strange considering Sam could probably piece together that it wasn't their father. Dean let the silence linger for a beat or two before he set the phone down and cleared his throat.

"Yeah." He padded back over to the bed and got settled on his side before Sam joined him, pressed up nice and close. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Hm?"

He couldn't bring himself to ask. Sam wouldn't do something like that, would he?

"..Goodnight" Dean opted for instead, reaching over to turn out the light on the nightstand.

"Night. Love you."

"I love you too."

↳ part 1 || part 2 || link to ao3

#wincest #weecest #wincest fic #weecest fic #ficlet #wincest fic recommendation #ember chapter 3 #this one got a little longer than the last two

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crystalandparrot · 5 months ago

Text

The Hardest Trial: Pt. 2

Learning Curve

This is SUNSPOT!! Or how I envision her. She's wearing a clip on bow tie and shorts that are WAY too big on her. I named her Mary, but again, I'll keep it a reader insert if thats what the people want. I dont mind changing it.

It's been three years since Bill arrived in his current predicament: stuck roaming a family's house like a ghost with only the smallest human to actually talk to.

Sure it wasn't the same as talking to Sixer, but the questions never got boring. It turned out that not only could this child see him, they could interact with them. Bill could touch and be touched...unfortunately only by one person and that person was a child, but better than nothing. Bill had yet to discover if his powers grew over his time in this state or if he was simply relearning how to use them, but Bill began releasing small bits of power he did not have in the Mindscape previously. Bill could lift things, with about as much grace and strength as a Poltergeist run on molasses, but he could lift things!

Over his time in the past, Bill also realized something was drawing him back to this child. A magnet? A string? A pull of some kind always, always, ALWAYS, brought Bill back to her. He could travel as far as the city's boundary, then POOF back home. It was only annoying a few times, then Bill got the gist.

Bill found it odd just how much time the little Sunspot's parents spent with her, he was almost positive a normal set of parents was next to their child almost 24/7. But they seemed to avoid her! Heck, Bill was the one to potty train her. Bill took it upon himself to teach the kid how to be a less annoying human (to him at least), taking the time to teach them to talk in English, backwards English, and Latin (a fun trick at parties), he made sure they could walk, crawl, and crab/exorcist walk (also hilarious), and was even starting to teach them the alphabets! Y'know, the English alphabet, his alphabet, Sixer's code, and of course the Caesar Cipher alphabet (how could he not?). Over time Bill began to realize that he was having...fun? It was almost like making a mini version of him! And the best part was that Sunspot took to all of it like it was as easy as breathing! It's true what they say, kids are like sponges.

"Why do lizards grow back their tails?"

A voice startled Bill out of his thoughts and he glanced down at the four year old human sitting on the floor from his spot on the dresser — yes it was his spot. When he expressed pain (in a display of acting that would have absolutely won an award) in his back from the sleeping arrangements, the cute little Sunspot immediately made a makeshift bedroom with items around the house, two paper towel rolls, a ripped fishnet stocking she stole, and an empty jewelry box she dumped on the floor before giving to Bill (she made sure to keep the gold as per Bill's wishes). It was fitted with a small mirror, a netted hammock, and a small chest to put any items of his (he humored it for the kid, even though he can make anything appear with the snap of his fingers).

"It's so when predators try to eat them and grab their tail, they can just—" Bill snapped his fingers for emphasis and an image of a wiggling lizards' tail appeared next to him, "—pop it right off. Then its muscles spasm to trick the predator into thinking it's alive so it eats the tail instead of chasing the lizard."

The child looked up at Bill in wonder, "Can all of its body parts do that?"

Bill leaned forward with a gleeful expression, "Do you wanna find out?"

"I don't know what to do, sir. She was such a happy kid. Always laughing and giggling..."

"And then what?"

"Then...she started talking."

"That's typically normal for most toddlers—"

"You don't understand. She said her first word at ten months, then she never stopped talking. Always asking questions, but getting the answer before we told her, like she was testing us!"

"Then what?"

"Then it was...the games."

"Can you expand a little more on that?"

"She would claim her friend was asking her to do things. Like cutting off the arms and legs of a lizard, breaking glass to build a prism, throwing an aerosol can into the fire place —luckily the fire was dying out and we were able to take it out before something bad could happen."

"And who's this friend?"

"The same as her first word—Bill."

"Do you need to be extracted, agent?"

"No! No...no, sir. There's still some things to finish here."

"Fine. But you will be removed should anything detrimental occur, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

FINALLY! Lake day! Bill had been waiting a month for this! He had his inner tube ready and waiting for that lazy river, and it was time to relax. Being a dream demon to a four year old was hard work.

Bill lazily floated in his tube, the water moving in perfect circles around him. He kept his eye open slightly to keep an eye on everyone, but was otherwise relaxed. The little Sunspot was playing in the shallow water, picking up rocks and throwing them back into the water to try and hit the fish. Her parents were sitting underneath the open trunk door of their minivan, talking quietly and glancing at Sunspot briefly now and then.

"Bill! That fish has a mustache!!" Sunspot pointed at a Catfish swimming nearby in the tall grass.

"That's a Catfish, the mustache helps it taste." Bill educated calmly and shut his eye.

"Ooh, tasting mustache..."

Bill gave a small chuckle. Everything was peaceful and quiet...until—

SPLASH

Bill's eye flashed open and he looked around briefly to see what could have made the splash. The answer was found quickly when he saw a large, round boy standing over Sunspot, who was sitting in the water, soaking wet. Bill's body quickly flashed red before turning back to his signature yellow. With a snap, his swim trucks and baseball cap were replaced by his bowtie and top hat. Bill quickly flew over to the confrontation.

"Did this kid push you?" Bill asked the soaking child. Bill glanced over at her parents, who were still talking. She gently nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "Do you wanna do something about it?" Bill outstretched his hand, void of blue fire.

The little Sunspot thought for a moment, then grabbed Bill's hand.

"Aww, is the little baby gonna cry? Wah wah wah!" The bully taunted, his group of patsy's giggling behind him. It shocked them when they heard more giggling, and it was coming from the small child in the water. "What's so funny?"

The girl looked up, one eye bright yellow with a thin pupil, the other was her signature shade of (e/c) and had a round pupil. "I'm just thinking how funny it would be to see how your arms and legs work backwards."

Oddly enough, it wasn't the first or second scream that got the attention of the parents in the area, but rather the sudden psychotic laughter that echoed around the river.

The Sunspot's parents finally walked over to investigate and were horrified to see two children wallowing on the ground in pain. One child had a broken arm and the other had a broken leg. There was also a third child that was rocking back and forth and gripping his head a couple of feet away, his eyes were dilated and distant.

In the water, crouching down and poking at a salamander, was (Y/n), the little Sunspot.

"You know some salamanders have tongues ten times the length of their body." Bill poked at the salamander's eye, causing it to blink and look around for the perpetrator.

"Does this one?"

"Wanna find out?"

#my hands have never been more human #bill cipher #the book of bill #billford #forget i said that #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls #ford pines #grunkle ford #stanford pines #stan pines #stanley pines #gravity falls au

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