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mrsjellymunson · 1 year ago

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The Biology Tutor

📕 Lesson 1: Female Anatomy

Series masterlist

Continue studying: Lesson 2: Male Anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Pairing: Virgin!Eddie Munson x fem!tutor!reader

Summary: Eddie’s failing class, so you decide to offer two different styles of biology tuition, textbook-based and *ahem* practical.

W/C: something around 4k (I didn’t do a word count after editing, sorry)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, NSFW, PWP, smut with a story. Exhibitionism (f), mutual masturbation (m+f), swearing, innuendo, pet names, slight sub/dom dynamic, subtle size kink? Both Reader & Eddie are overage. No y/n. Reader’s appearance is not described, it can be whatever you like.

A/N: A cute little bit of biology lesson-based smut. I’m a sucker for virgin!Eddie and wanted to see if I could write him. Let me know how I did! 😄

My masterlist

You’ve had a crush on the guy in your Biology class since the beginning of the year when you first saw him ranting on a table in the cafeteria. There’s something about him that’s so different from the guys you’d usually go for. You run in completely different social circles, you with the academically-gifted ‘Brainy Bunch’ (an eye-rollingly terrible moniker coined by the we-think-we’re-so-clever jocks), and him with his nerdy friends. Despite this you find him unusual and intriguing, not to mention hot as all hell. You guess the ‘freak metalhead’ look doesn’t work for everyone, but his long hair and rebellious dark ink are certainly doing it for you. You really want to discover what’s underneath those layers of denim, leather and torn shirts, your imagination only able to go so far as you ponder his form late at night in your bed.

However, girls talk, and you’ve never heard of him being with any of them, or even speaking to all that many. For all his bravado and apparent confidence, you’re reasonably certain that Eddie Munson is still a virgin.

And for some reason this draws you to him even more.

You’re pretty sure you’ve caught Eddie checking out your ass as it’s perched on a high stool while he sits behind you in the biology lab. On days when you’re in this class you’ve started to wear your tightest jeans, and your shortest skirts (though if anyone asked you’d insist it was a coincidence).

Somehow you’ve become inexplicably clumsy (but only in this class, how odd…), often dropping your pencil and having to bend over to pick it up, occasionally chewing on the end in contemplation when you know he’s watching, much to the chagrin of your teacher.

“Never put anything in your mouth in the lab, you should all know better by now.”

You smirk at the innuendo in Eddie’s direction and he quickly looks away, ears exposed by his lab-regulation tied-back hair a little pink at the tips.

You also often ‘forget’ or ‘lose’ equipment, asking him if he’s got a spare, or could he please get you a replacement from the cupboards, which he’s always more than willing to do (giving you ample opportunities to observe his denim-clad ass as he does so).

“Damn, I seem to be one test tube short. Eddie, would you be a doll and get me one from the cupboard?”, crossing your legs and subtly ensuring the hem of your skirt rides up just a little more.

Eddie looks you up and down (result!) and agrees.

“Thanks, you really are my knight in shiny, um, leather?” You wince slightly at your clumsy comment, but he takes it in his stride, continuing the bit by replying,

“Here you go, your majesty”, bowing theatrically and presenting the glassware to you atop his forearm, making you grin.

In another lesson: “Shit, I tore my filter. Eddie, do you have a spare?”

“Anything for the Princess of Biology.”

He gives you a little smirk, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly. You can’t help gazing at his strong, ring-clad hands as he hands you the little circle of absorbent paper.

It becomes somewhat of a game, you playing the Princess and he the rescuing knight.

But for all your teasing you genuinely do actually want to help him pass the class. You don’t want him to have to repeat the year - you’ve seen him play at The Hideout and you know he’s meant for greater things.

It’s just biology, it can’t be any harder than what little you’ve picked up about that complicated game he plays, which seems to be all numbers, convoluted plots and organising “campaigns”, whatever they are. You’re sure he could pass if he’d just apply himself.

Or, perhaps, he just needs the right tutor…?

You’d broached it with your science teacher, offering to help ‘any students who were behind’ for extra credits. After he’d agreed you’d approached Eddie that same day, offering to come to his home and help him with his overdue assignments.

He was confused and skeptical at first, thinking this could all be some elaborate prank, but you were gentle and persuasive, and he’d agreed to pick you up later that day.

You’re sitting on his worn-out sofa, draped with a well loved but soft blanket. You’ve spent the last hour trying to get Eddie to understand cellular respiration (“Isn’t it just, like, breathing in and out?” “No, Eddie, this is cell biochemistry, it’s a bit more complicated than that”), but nothing you attempt seems to be working.

He’s despondent, won’t look at you, and seems resigned to his fate of never passing this particular subject, interjecting with statements like,

“Look, it’s just not going in.”

“I don’t know how to make it stick.”

“I don’t think I’ll get it, Princess, even if you beat it into me.”

The innuendo (accidental or not) is driving you crazy. As is Eddie’s lack of self belief.

You’d even tried explaining it by using D&D analogies.

“Think of the chemical reactions like individual characters interacting in groups. Like, if this particular troupe disband and some make allegiances with another, the group has different skills and attributes now, right?” But after a promising start even that doesn’t seem to hold his attention.

In fact, the more animated you get and closer you sit, the more distracted and fidgety he becomes, unwilling to engage fully with you and shifting uncomfortably.

You move further towards him on the sofa, determined to give it one last shot, and force him to make eye contact with you.

Their colour and depth surprises you as you look into them properly for the first time, noticing their rich, swirling chocolate and whiskey hues.

Your eyes briefly drop to his lips, the soft pink, plump, velvety pillows looking mightily enticing. God, they’re perfect.

Goosebumps rise on your arm as you feel his surprisingly soft curls tickle your shoulder.

Okay, you knew he was cute, but up close? Fucking hell…

You lean across your notes and over to the text book that’s on his other side. Your thighs are touching, and as you twist the side of your breast makes contact with his arm. If he looked slightly down and towards you he’d be able to see right down the neck of your tank top. You kind of hope he does.

Huffing, you prod at the book with your hand, hoping that the diagram on the page might make everything clearer. The movement makes your boobs jiggle a little.

You hadn’t noticed he’d stopped breathing and he suddenly lets out a huff of breath, covering it with a badly faked cough. His cheeks have flushed a light shade of pink.

So, you definitely weren’t imagining all that stuff in class.

Fuck it. You consider this might be the only opportunity you might get to do this, so decide to grab it. After all, academic tutelage was only part of your motivation to get him alone, and something you’ve been thinking about for a long time, one of the fantasies that keeps you up at night, pops into your head. One that would definitely get his attention. And if you can’t help his confidence academically, perhaps you can help with it somewhere else. Call it interpersonal tutelage…?

With as much nonchalance as you can muster, you say, “Um, maybe we should take a break. Y’know, relax a little?”

You scootch away to the end of the sofa, putting your back against the armrest and bringing your feet up onto the cushion in front of you. You grab a couple of throw cushions and slot them behind you, getting comfortable.

Eddie seems to relax a little too once you’ve moved away, but still looks uneasy.

God, are you really going to do this? What if he screams and runs away, or worse, tells his friends, or your classmates..? No, you’ve been thinking about this for far too long. Oh, fuck it x 2…

Feigning a stretch, you arch your back and place your hands at the back of your waist, pushing your chest, and breasts, upwards. Then you move them to the sides of your ribs, glancing over the sides of your boobs, seemingly-innocently pushing them together. You move a hand underneath one of your breasts, cupping it gently in the crook of your thumb and forefinger.

Eddie is still sitting tensely on the front edge of the sofa cushions, stealing sideways glances at you through the curtain of his hair.

“C’mon, Eddie, get comfy with me. It’ll help, I promise.”

Self-consciously, Eddie shifts himself and sits facing you, cross-legged, at the other end of the sofa. You give him a soft smile, which he returns with a slightly bashful one of his own, afterwards rolling his lips inwards between his teeth.

Okay, it’s now or never. Are you gonna be able to concentrate on this, Eddie?

You hum quietly, and almost closing your eyes you run a palm down your chest and over your belly. You drop one knee slightly out to the side, and run your hand down the inside of your thigh and back up it, eventually pushing your fingers between your thighs and cupping your mound with your palm.

You see Eddie’s eyes widen and hear a stifled choke.

Your hand moves to fully cup your breast, and you lightly trace your thumb over your hardening nipple whilst the hand between your legs begins to apply gentle pressure, making you inhale deeply.

Eddie watches you, agape, bringing his hands together and clasping one hand over the other in front of him, you surmise to disguise his burgeoning bulge.

You open your eyes a little, keeping them soft and half lidded, and gently smile in Eddie’s direction, ensuring he’s still watching you.

Using both hands to pop the button and lower the zipper on your jeans, you tease yourself by running the pretty elastic trim of your your panties between your fingertips, pulling it slightly away from you and letting it snap back onto your abdomen.

“Uh…”, he swallows hard, and you internally groan at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing in that delicious neck, “What’re you doing..?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Eddie? I’m… relaxing…”

Sighing out the last word, you choose this moment to slip your hand down the front of your underwear, sliding over your mound and dipping just the tip of one finger between your folds, feeling the wetness that’s already pooled there. Your forehead furrows a little and you let out a quiet, contented hum.

Eddie’s eyes widen further and his eyebrows disappear completely under his bangs, and he sounds a little like he’s suffocating.

He tries to move further away from you along the sofa, unsuccessfully however as he’s wedged against the other armrest.

“Uh, I can, y’know, leave, or you could use my room, or, I can take you home, or, or-”

He’s babbling, and looking everywhere but at you. That’s not what you want at all, and you’re also concerned that he looks so uncomfortable.

“I can stop, if you want…”

He rushes out a reply, almost shouting the first syllable.

“N-NO! Um, no, it’s okay, really.”

“Okay, Eddie, stay right there. Keep your eyes on me, I wanna give you a show.”

He looks even more shocked, jaw dropping open, and you think he might bolt. But after a moment it’s clear that despite being full of anxiety, fear and self-consciousness, his curiosity, hormones and horniness are winning out, and he fixes his gaze on you.

He manages to squeak out, “Ok-aay…”

You lift your hips, using both hands to push your jeans and underwear down your legs until they reach your ankles. You slowly splay your knees, finally exposing yourself fully to Eddie’s gaze. One hand comes back to your breast, and you pinch your fabric-covered nipple between your thumb and forefinger.

He takes in the sight before him, the soft fur around your core, your wet folds glistening in the dim light of his living room, your sultry gaze, the peaks of your hardened nipples now visible through the thin fabric of your top.

He lets out a stuttering breath as his hips involuntarily shift underneath him, trying to find some friction.

“Jeezus fuck, Princess, are you tryin’a kill me?”

You try to think of something that might help relax him.

“If it helps you can imagine that we’re still studying. How about a quick lesson in female anatomy..?”

You move your hand down and with featherlight touches trace your fingertips around your pussy.

“Now, this whole area is my vulva.”

Eddie gulps.

Making a vertical line you trace your fingers over your wet lips.

“These are my labia.”

Eddie’s lips press together and he lets out a stammering hum, closing his eyes momentarily before snapping them back open so he doesn’t miss a thing.

“Are you paying attention, Eddie? This part is really important. This-,” you inhale sharply as you trail your wet fingers upwards and make contact, “This is where you’ll find my clit- fuck-”

It feels so delicious you almost don’t manage to finish your sentence, and you let out a long, low hum. Part of you doesn’t want to stop, but you’ve got more planned. Moving your fingers down again, you say,

“And this, here? This is my vagina…”

With a smile, you watch him stare as you dip a fingertip into your sopping hole, letting out a low moan as you gradually slip it inside of you.

“You know what the g-spot is, Eddie? I can show you where to find it, if you want me to…?”

You slide your finger in further, curling it towards your front wall, almost managing to tickle that certain spot within and letting out a loud groan.

At the other end of the sofa Eddie gasps an inhale, whimpering slightly, and you see him press the heel of his hand into his crotch. The combination of his sounds and actions is making you impossibly wetter - the boys you’ve been with before didn’t do much of either, and you didn’t know how much it turned you on.

You watch his face as he stares intently at your weeping centre as you slowly, so slowly move your finger in and out a few times.

“D’you think you’ll remember that, Eddie?”

“I promise I’ll fuckin’ try, Jesus Christ…”

He swallows again, exhaling heavily.

Deciding it’s time for the main event, you bring the hand that was squeezing your breast down your body, moving your fingertips to your clit and applying gentle pressure.

“I want you to see how wet you make me, Eddie. I want you to know how much I enjoy you watching my ass in biology class, how often I’ve thought about it when I’m alone. How much I like checking yours out in those oh-so tight jean- oh!”

A particularly exquisite circle followed by a firm press on your clit makes you moan out loud. The combination of both your hands has you close, closer than you imagined you’d be at this stage. It takes much longer when you’re by yourself, and you’re surprised and excited by just how much you’re enjoying having Eddie watch you.

Eddie’s fully gripping himself through his jeans now and is breathing heavily through his nose. He looks big, and you salivate at the thought.

You really want to see what he’s been hiding inside that tight denim.

“Show me, Eddie, I wanna see you.”

Hesitantly, never having experienced anything even close to this before, Eddie mumbles,

“You, uh…?”

“I wanna see you. Take out your cock. Let me see all of you, please.”

He’s rubbing himself, and you can see how strained his jeans are, a wet stain now visible in the dark fabric.

Slowly, eyes never leaving your face and looking for any tiny indication that you’re uncomfortable or have changed your mind, he slowly undoes his button and pulls down his zipper.

His languid pace is killing you, but in a good way; you realise he most likely has no idea what this is doing to you.

He rearranges the front of his jeans, opening the fly wide and leaving nothing but a thin layer of checkered cotton covering his member. The tent it’s creating is impressive.

He watches you stare and run your wet tongue over your bottom lip.

Letting out a nervous breath between pursed lips, he pushes one hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, using his thumb and two fingers to hold his cock at the base. Using his other hand he slowly, agonisingly slowly, pulls the fabric out and downwards, gradually exposing his full member to the lights of the room and to you.

You pause your own movements and spend a moment taking it in. It’s long, with an impressive girth - you briefly wonder whether he knows what he’s packing - and it’s the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen. Lengthy, veined, slightly curved, and thick, so thick.

Eddie watches your expression for a moment. Satisfied that you’re not freaked or about to run away screaming, he brings the rest of his fingers to join the others, wrapping himself fully in his fist and squeezing gently, causing a little bead of precum to collect on the tip.

You take in the sight before you for a few moments, then utter, completely honestly, “Eddie, in case no one’s ever told you this, you have a really beautiful dick.”

His face and neck turn the second-prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“No one’s ever told me that before, Princess.” Adding, almost in a whisper, “In fact, no one’s ever seen it.”

He chuckles lightly through that last sentence, embarrassed at what he’s just admitted. The ego boost of your comments has clearly given him some confidence though, as he adds with a slight smirk, a little breathy as he runs the pad of his thumb unhurriedly over his tip, “You, uh, really think so?”

Oh, so he likes me watching him too?

You can’t take your eyes off of it.

“I really do, Eddie. It’s so pretty.”

As if to confirm your statement you resume your hand movements, adding another finger and resuming circling your clit with the other. You notice that Eddie’s started moving too, his hand moving over himself in a deft gripping and twisting motion, his hips bucking up every now and again.

For a few moments neither of you say anything, the only sounds in the room your combined panting breaths and the lewd movements of wet skin.

Your clit is swollen and supremely sensitive, and, pushing in a little further, your fingers just tickle that exquisite spot within you.

You moan as you imagine it’s Eddie’s pretty cock inside you. That he’s leaning over you, thrusting into you, hitting that spot effortlessly. Maybe even talking to you, telling you how good your pussy feels, how well you’re taking him…

Suddenly your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth hangs open, a gutteral moan emerging from your chest as you get closer and closer.

Bringing your attention back to him you mumble, hurriedly,

“Jeezus Eddie, I’m gonna cum, you wanna see me cum?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire fucking life.”

Eddie’s words come out in a spluttering rush and on his last word your breathing halts, your muscles lock and you cum, hard, clenching around your fingers and letting out an involuntary strangled scream.

Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you think you hear Eddie let out a loud, “Holy shhhiiiit!”

You come down a little, opening your eyes and locking them with Eddie’s. You ride out your aftershocks, humming as you feel your fingers inside of you and your juices running down them. You eventually remove your fingers from your cunt, leaving its puffy wetness fully on display, and trace them around your lips and clit.

“F-fuck, Princess, that’s the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever fuckin’ seen…”

Eddie’s red-faced and panting, his cock still very much standing to attention in his now vice-like grip, the tip an angry red and leaking copious amounts of precum. His eyes are blown dark, the chocolate rims almost completely obscured. His face and neck are flushed and he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, and he’s clenching his jaw, looking like he’s trying desperately not to bust.

“Are you ok over there, Eddie?”

“Shit, yeah, yes, I mean, fuck.”

Breathily, you ask him,

“Do you wanna cum?”

“Fuck yes, I just, I didn’t know whether you wanted me to.”

“Oh I do Eddie, I really do. It’s your turn now. You gonna cum for me? Please, let me see you lose it, show me everything you’ve got.”

He breathes out a loud sigh in what seems like relief. You like how good he’s being for you, learning yet more about yourself that you didn’t know before.

His fist speeds up as his other hand comes to hold his balls, deftly stroking and rolling the flesh. His brow furrows deeply and his lips clamp shut around a low moan. He’s staring intently at you, eyes flicking between your face and your still-dripping cunt.

Suddenly his expression turns to one resembling surprise, as his eyebrows lift and his mouth opens, a string of expletives leaving those perfect, plump lips,

“Fuck, fuck, Jeezus, motherf-, oh my-, fuckfuckfuuuck!”

His jaw drops as his abdomen contracts, and his eyes fix on your cunt as he jets hot ropes of white cum into the air and over his fist and t-shirt. There’s so much, and it seems never ending.

The sight is even better than you’d imagined it might be and your hips buck up into your hand, making you press your fingers into your clit again triggering another aftershock, and you find yourself moaning along with him.

For a few moments there’s more silence, aside from your panting and heavy breathing.

Eventually Eddie chuckles a little, and you huff a breath out through your nose with a smile on your face.

You’re both a sweaty, sticky mess, but neither of you care.

“Fuck, Eddie, that was…” You’re lost for words.

“Amazing? Incredible?” Seeing the grin plastered across Eddie’s face is easily as gratifying as all the other stuff you’ve done tonight.

You both giggle as Eddie says, “Fuck me, Princess, you’re definitely the best tutor I’ve ever had.”

Neither of you really want to move, but some cleanup is definitely necessary. Eddie takes the blanket from the sofa and throws it in the washer, cleaning up quickly in the bathroom, letting you know when it’s free and returning in a change of clothes, throwing the others in with the blanket.

As you both process what’s just transpired you share timid glances and half smiles.

You both sit on the sofa again as you start to pack up your notes and books. In another unforeseen realisation, you’re surprised at how much you’ve enjoyed Eddie’s company, and the warm feeling you get inside every time he looks at you is entirely unexpected.

You realise you’re gonna have to be the one to say something, and give Eddie a smirk.

“So, how about next time we do some practical revision on, maybe, male anatomy?”

He looks a little surprised, but certainly not unhappy at the suggestion that there might actually be a ‘next time’.

“You really wanna, uh, tutor me again?”

Nodding in the affirmative, you reply, “Oh yeah, I think we’ve both learned a lot this afternoon.”

Holding his gaze, you suggest,

“Same time next week..?”

Lesson 2: Male anatomy | Extra Credits 01: Communication Skills | Extra Credits 02: French | Independent Study 01: Art | Independent Study 02: Creative Writing

Series masterlist

Thanks so much for reading! 🙏🥰

A/N 2: This has become a miniseries, let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist, and/or my general one 😉

Likes are great, but please also consider supporting writers with comments and reblogs - they help fics get seen, and it genuinely means the world! 🌍 ❤️

My masterlist

#virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x tutor!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x you #biology smut #the biology tutor #female anatomy lesson #Eddie munson x fem!tutor!reader #stranger things fanfic #Eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson smutty fanfic #smutty fanfic

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dewdropdinosaur · 3 months ago

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Kinktober Day 19: Suspension

Summary: You had simply trotted over to him like any other day and gave him a hug. While wearing a very tight little black skirt and an “abhorrent” navy top that quickly landed you face down, ass up tied to the bedposts getting fucked like a ragdoll till kingdom come. Warnings: Tentacle sex, suspension, sub/dom dynamics, possesiveness, cum, reader has a vagina. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption.

Sorry this one is shorter, I am ill today but I still wanted to put a fic out. xD. Hope you enjoyed my lovelies!!

You had been like this for hours now. Hands and feet strung high and tied in place by those slimey but oh-so-fucking-good tentacles your boyfriend had been using to suspend you. Had you been a brat, yes. Did you embarass him in front of a few residents of the Hotel, also yes. But you had meant no harm. You had simply trotted over to him like any other day and gave him a hug. While wearing a very tight little black skirt and an “abhorrent” navy top that quickly landed you face down, ass up tied to the bedposts getting fucked like a ragdoll till kingdom come.

“My dear, do you think you’ve learned your lesson now?” Continuing to allow a slick tentacle to lazily drag across your slit, you couldn’t help the lewd moan that escaped your lips as you pulled slightly on the restraints. You could feel the weight of it sliding across the shiny mess that spilled from your cunt.

“Yes, fuck—Alastor, I have learned by lesson!“

“Oh but darling, I am not so sure you have~.” His sing-song voice was soul-crushing. How much more teasing could you take? You had been denied four orgasms already! Slowly sliding his tentable in, he stretched your needy hole just enough to where the stretch burned but did not satiate your ever growing desire for his cock.

Fisting random papers underneath you in a fit of pleasure and pain. “Please…just move please.” You bucked your hips up, attempting to get any semblance of the friction you so craved but were denied by Alastor’s clawed hands digging into the meat of your hip; stalling your motions.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. And here I thought you had more pride than that, pet. Have I really made you such a needy little whore?”

Starting to slowly trust, barely moving the tip of the apendance in and out, he was taking his time to draw out every noise. He relished in the sight below him. All tied up and pretty, moaning and writhing in pleasure all because of him, his power. it was truly a sight to behold. Maybe he should keep you here, play with you whenever he wanted. The thought was certainly appealing and had his trousers becoming unnecesarrily uncomfortable.

“Go on my darling. How badly do you want it mhmm?

“Fuck, please Al—holy shit—just do something, anything!”

“You loved being tied up like this mhmm….like my little needy whore?”

“Yes!”

“That’s it.”

Without warning, Alastor allowed the tentacle to sheath its heavy member into your cunt with one stroke. You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezing it so tight that with every exit and entry of the member into your cunt, the slickness of it rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. Your body feels fuzzy and brain close to numb, all you can think about is how fucking good it feels to finally be fucked. You can feel your release barreling towards you with a unrecognized speed. Maybe it was all the denial of realease or maybe it is just that good, you’ll never know. But Alastor knows your body like it’s his and it is. Where to curl the tentacle, the right spot to hit every time that had the pressure building and building till you felt the coil in your stomach snap as you cry you lover’s name.

But your whines were quickly muffled by another tentacle coming and shoving itself in your mouth. Allowing you to calm down from your intense high, Alastor removes his bonds and allows you to plop on his bed with no short lack of grace. Coming to caress your cheek with his hands, the gesture is suprisingly tender.

“My darling, perhaps you will think before you dress next time, mhmm? Or shall I have to do this again?”

Well, maybe you had a few more navy tops you could pull out.

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happy74827 · 10 months ago

Text

The Lesson of Reality

[Rick Grimes and Child!Reader]

Synopsis: You accidentally get a lot more “experience” than what Rick had planned.

WC: 3080

Category: Slight Angst, S6!Rick (no TOWL spoilers) {TW — Gore, Violence, Walkers, Blood, Death}

There’s so many fics about Daryl being a father figure that it’s about time that Rick had his Joel Miller moment (especially now that all the episodes of The Ones Who Live have aired). So have fun with this cute Protective!Rick moment.

『••✎••』

They say when times are tough, people can rise to the occasion and show their true colors. For some, it's an opportunity to prove they can survive the hardships and come out the other side stronger, wiser, and more experienced. Then there is the scum of the earth. They will take any opportunity to steal, kill, and hurt others while they try and make it out unscathed.

For Rick, he wanted you to be part of the former. He always saw your potential to become a fighter—a survivor. Hell, you made it this long by yourself, after all. You had to learn and adapt to the world.

And given your age, it was a hard thing to accomplish.

Your innocence didn't help, either. On one hand, he wanted to keep you as innocent and childlike as possible for as long as he could. The world was already a shit-show. The least you could do was still have the mentality of the child you were supposed to be. Being only ten years old, it was the right thing to do.

But then he remembers what the world was like now. If he let you live with that naivety, it'd get you killed. And it didn’t matter how intelligent you were because even if it saved your ass a few times, it won’t forever.

The fact of the matter is you were going to be hurt no matter what. And you had to be prepared for it.

He had already shown his own son, Carl, the harshness of the new world. He didn't want to do it, but the world left him no choice. And he couldn't deny the boy the means to defend himself and his family.

And even if you weren’t his kid, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do the same for you.

He just needed the right time to teach you… to remind you that Alexandria isn’t the safest place on the planet.

The perfect time came when the Wolves attacked the group, and the gates were broken down.

After all the tragedy and loss, and Alexandria started to rebuild and strengthen their walls once again, Rick decided then was the time to toughen you up.

And thus, there you were, sitting on a tree stump as Rick stood in front of you, knife in hand, and Daryl beside him.

Eugene was also there, but he was standing to the side, watching with mild curiosity.

“You sure ‘bout this?” Daryl asked, looking from you to Rick, brows furrowed in concern. “It’s good takin' 'em outside the walls, but now? After everything that just happened, I mean? The people need yah right now, man. And the last thing we need is for the lil' squirt here to get hurt, too. Yer already lookin' rough as it is."

"I'll be fine, Daryl," Rick replied, his eyes not leaving yours. “Besides, I won’t be gone long. It’s just a quick look around. In and out, and then I'll be back. Two days, tops.”

Everyone around you seemed to be on edge, with the attack on the walls still fresh in their minds. But you?

Well, you were too busy staring at the shiny, shiny knife. Excitement shone in your eyes as your fingers twitched.

Truth be told, ever since Daryl and Aaron found you alone, wandering the woods and eating raw squirrel, and brought you to Alexandria, you felt as if something was missing.

You had never been the most social kid. You had the bare minimum amount of friends at school. None of them stuck around after you were pulled out of school. You had no close relatives that wanted you around. No father figure and the only motherly presence in your life was gone before you understood the new reality.

And while there were other kids in Alexandria, the older ones were already too busy trying to act like adults, and the younger ones were too immature. Sam, the kid that had once been closest to your age, was just a crybaby who didn’t know any better. He was scared of the dark and the idea of a walker. He never went outside the walls, so it was no wonder.

It was like living in a house full of strangers. They were all kind to you, but there was something missing.

But the Grimes family? Well, you couldn't help but feel more comfortable around them. Carl didn’t seem to like you, at least not at first, but ever since the “Wolves” attack and sudden loss of his eye, he was becoming nicer.

And then there was Rick. He was always kind, but after the incident, he became even kinder. More attentive and caring. Always checking on you, making sure you were safe and comfortable. Something about that night must've really changed him because he's been different since then.

And you liked it. You felt more comfortable around him. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was because he had saved you from a walker, or perhaps it was the way he talked to you, but you enjoyed his company.

You also loved destroying him in Gin Rummy. With the mix of his shocked expression and Michonne’s laughter, it was priceless.

Rick looked back at Daryl, who was still giving him a doubtful expression. But it wasn’t a no. So, Rick took it as a sign of agreement.

Daryl huffed and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to his right side. "Alright, alright. But if somethin' goes wrong, I won’t hesitate to tell ya I told ya so, yah hear me?”

Rick snorted. "Wouldn’t expect any less from you."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head, a smirk on his lips. He gave you one more glance, and then he turned and left.

With that out of the way, Rick focused on the task at hand. That’s when Eugene made his presence known. He was the man with the map, so to speak.

He came over and laid the map of the area on the ground in front of you.

"I've marked the areas of the woods I believe would be best suited for your scavenging mission. However, should your route take a turn, there are several alternate routes to get back. There are also a few marked areas with potential food sources, water, and the possibility of tools or other survival necessities.

"Thank you, Eugene. I appreciate this," Rick said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. Eugene smiled and nodded.

"You're welcome, sir. Now, if you'll excuse me, Rosita and I have an appointment at the gate to inspect and repair the damaged panels.” Eugene stood up and straightened his clothes, and then he was gone, heading back to the gate.

"Ready?" Rick asked. You looked up at him, smiling, and gave a nod. Soon, you were off into the rusty car that Daryl had brought from outside the walls.

You sat in the back seat, along with the bags semi-full of supplies and some extra weapons. Most of them belonged to Rick, however, so all you had was your old baseball cap.

And, of course, the old switchblade that Daryl gave you a while back.

For most of the scavenge trip, it was peaceful. The occasional walker showed up here and there, but for the most part, they were few and far between.

You found a lot of supplies. Food, medicine, clothes, and anything else you could think of. Rick also made sure to teach you how to pick locks, avoid traps, and a bunch of other skills.

But, of course, as things go, something has to go wrong.

A group of walkers, about twenty or so, showed up. It was no big deal. It was a lot, but nothing you couldn't handle.

You and Rick quickly got to work, taking them out one by one. You had gotten good with your knife, and with some pointers from Rick, you were practically a pro.

And then there was Rick, swinging his machete, stabbing and slashing his way through the herd. His face was a mix of focus and calm. It was impressive.

But the problem wasn’t the walkers. You were both doing fine. The problem was the aftermath. When the last walker fell to your feet, a gun rose and pointed at Rick's head.

And the guy holding the gun? Well, he looked like a psychopath. He had a smile that sent shivers down your spine, and it didn't help that the sun was starting to set.

"Hey there. Nice work taking out those rotters. But I'm going to have to ask you to hand over the bags and all the weapons you have. Oh, and I love that baseball cap. That'll be mine, too."

Well, Rick wanted you to toughen up. It seemed the universe had the same idea.

Somehow, you ended up behind Rick, shielded from the man and his gun. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the adrenaline kicked in. You didn't know what to do.

Rick didn't, either. Not when a group of armed men stepped out of the trees and aimed their guns at him. He didn't even have the time to reach for his machete.

Rick raised his hands, but his body was tense.

"Don't," was the only thing he said. His voice was stern, a growl hidden underneath. The man grinned and laughed.

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you," the man sneered.

Suddenly, all of them charged forward, grabbing the two of you. Your cap was taken, and Rick's machete was tossed away.

Despite the stronghold, Rick was able to kick and punch his way through his attackers. Even with the gun being pointed at him and the man pulling the trigger, he still managed to dodge the bullet and throw a few more punches.

The man growled, but the smile didn't leave his face.

"Feisty, aren't you? I love a challenge."

With a flick of his wrist, he knocked the butt of the gun against Rick's temple, sending him to the ground.

"Rick!" You yelled but were cut off when someone grabbed you by the hair and pulled, eliciting a scream from you.

"What a cutie," the man purred, grabbing you by the chin. You tried to pull away, but he held tight.

"How old are you, huh? Six? Seven? Eh, it doesn't matter. All kids are the same. Little shits who don't know their place."

You took that as a sign. You spat in his face. He didn't even flinch. In fact, the smile only widened. It pissed you off so much that you did the one thing that would definitely take a smile off his face.

You saw it done once, with a foot. A woman back in Alexandria seemed upset with a man, and she took her boot and kicked him right where you aimed your switchblade.

You weren't sure if it was a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.

So you did. And let me tell you, that was one of the few times you had ever heard someone scream so loud. He dropped you in an instant, unfortunately taking the knife with him.

“Son of a-!! You little-!!” Pain and anger laced the man's words as he clutched himself. You scrambled back, watching with wide eyes as he slowly recovered.

He didn’t dare try to crawl over to you, though. He didn’t trust his body to move.

Instead, he turned his attention to his side, where his small pistol had been tossed. He reached over and picked it up, pointing the barrel in your direction.

“I was gonna be nice… maybe have a little fun, but now?” He let out a painful chuckle. The smile was still there, but it was laced with anger. He groaned in pain, and his body shook.

Still, his hands remained steady.

"You little shit. I outta blow your head off. Let the rotters tear you apart, limb from limb. Would serve you right.”

Rick's heart stopped at that. The gun was aimed at you, and he was too far away. Even if he charged, he wouldn't make it in time.

There was no other option.

Just as the man squinted his eyes, about to pull the trigger, the sound of a gunshot rang through the air. It made the man jump and look around, right in time to see one of his men fall to the ground.

"What the-?"

You turned and saw Rick tussling with another man, the one holding a gun, who was fighting for control.

The man who had his gun pointed at you took the opportunity to shoot it again, but you were prepared enough to duck out of the way.

The bullet went into a tree, and by the time the next one fired, he was the last one standing.

And boy, was he pissed. The bullet once again missed his target, but only barely.

That was enough, though. Just enough to get Rick to kick the gun out of his hands before pressing his boot right where your pocket knife was still sticking out.

Rick had the advantage, and it was obvious, with the screams of agony coming from the man. He was on his knees, clutching his crotch, and Rick had a firm hand on the back of his head, ready to bash his skull into the ground if need be.

But he didn't. He had other plans.

He pulled out your knife, only to stick it right back into place and then some.

"Ah! You crazy bas-!! Fuck!!"

"You’re going to listen to me. Real good, you’ hear?” Rick’s voice was dark, and the man nodded frantically.

"Grab his gun and come over here."

You did as you were told, picking up the pistol and slowly walking over. The man whimpered, tears staining his cheeks as blood seeped through his pants.

"You're gonna stand there and keep your gun pointed at his head while I tie his hands together. If he even twitches, shoot him."

You gulped but nodded. You kept your arms out, hands as steady as you could make them.

“You sick, twisted, fuckin' asshole. I'll fucking kill you!" The man snarled, his teeth gritting and his face contorted in pain.

"That's cute," Rick said. He was quick to tie the man's wrists together. Rick was just as quick to grab him and force him on his feet before kicking the back of his knees and sending him sprawling on the ground.

"Stay," Rick commanded him like a dog, and you couldn't help but smile a little at the man's pained, angry expression.

Rick quickly gathered the supplies and the bag, and then he was over to you, giving you a once-over.

"You hurt? Bleeding? Anything broken?"

"N-No, I'm okay," you replied, voice wavering a bit.

"Good," he breathed out, and you noticed he was shaking a bit, too. Not enough to notice at first glance, but enough to know that he was trying his hardest not to.

He took the gun from your hands gingerly, and then he was kneeling before the man.

"Who are you?"

The man was silent. Rick didn't wait long before aiming the gun at the man's right thigh.

"Let me rephrase that. Who are you? What's your name?"

"Fuck y—”

Rick shot the man in the thigh without any hesitation. The scream of pain made you jump.

"Try again. Who are you?"

"Aah!! Fuck!! I-I'm Dave, okay? My name's Dave!"

"Okay, Dave. Good. Now, why did you attack us? And don't think I'm above shooting you again, or worse, so be honest. I can tell when someone's lying to me."

"We were just passing through! Saw you and thought, 'Hey, easy pickings!' Didn't expect you to be the goddamn terminator!"

"Passing through to where?"

Silence. Rick sighed and shook his head, but before he could fire another shot, Dave finally caved.

"Back to c-camp. Please, we have family. Wives, children… We meant nothin' by it! We swear! We just-! We were hungry. We were starving! Please, have mercy!"

"Children? Like the one you just threatened to shoot in the head?" Rick growled. Dave flinched.

"N-no, I-"

“Where are they? Down that stream? I saw your tracks earlier. That was you, wasn’t it?"

Dave's silence spoke volumes. Rick looked back at you, and you were staring at the man, wide-eyed and fearful, not of him specifically, but of what Rick could do to him.

Rick took a deep breath and then turned back to Dave.

"How many are there?"

"T-Ten. Maybe eleven."

"Are they armed?"

"J-Just with knives and stuff."

"You got anything else? Any other guns or ammo?"

"N-No. Please, just let us go! We won't bother you again! Just don't hurt me."

Rick looked back at you again. Your eyes were still locked on the man, but you could feel his gaze. You looked up at him.

"With that stunt, you just pulled,” Rick stood up, his eyes still aligned with yours, but he wasn’t speaking to you. He was addressing Dave.

"I can’t take that chance.”

Then the bullet fired, and soon it was just you and Rick with a bunch of corpses.

He quickly holstered the gun and rushed to bags left on the ground.

"What about his family?” Your voice was shaken. You had never seen someone shot like that, point blank.

Rick sighed, pausing in his movements.

"They don’t exist.” Rick stood and turned, looking you in the eye. “I know people like him. If he had a family, they're already dead, or he killed them himself.”

You didn’t break eye contact, “and if you’re wrong? What then?"

Rick didn’t even blink. "Then I saved them a lot of suffering."

Rick didn't like doing this, killing people, taking life. He hated it, really.

But he would be damned if anyone ever laid a hand on his family or his people. Even if it meant getting a little bloody.

You had to turn away from him, from the intensity of his stare.

Rick sighed and walked over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You did good back there. Really good. The world it’s… It ain't kind to people. And even though I hope it never happens, you have to be prepared for anything. For anyone."

Rick squeezed your shoulder, and his voice was gentle.

"And, for what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

552 notes · View notes

jackactuallywrites · 11 months ago

Text

Hidden Paradise

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (detailed shagging)

Warnings: Unprotected sex and also shower sex which we all know is unsafe

Summary: You walk in on a man in the shower, it takes you seeing him in the skull mask a week later to realise it was Ghost, and he is very intrigued by your reaction

Notes: This absolutely wouldn’t be possible without @xxven my muse and pookie and beta reader who gave me the plot 🤍❤️ (also raven on TikTok for making a hot thirst trap that inspired a whole scene)

Word Count: 4,195 (I am very horny for ghost)

ao3 link

There was very little luxury to be found on a military base; your military fatigues were never soft, your boots were the cheapest given by the contractors, your bed squeaked every time you so much as moved an inch, and there wasn’t so much as a tealight allowed in the barracks.

However, you’d found a quiet sanctuary. Far from the rest of the buildings on the base, there was a small shower block, disused and forgotten about in favour of the newer, more convenient showers. The water pressure wasn’t all that great, and the tiles would probably never return to whatever shade of white they’d started out as, but all that mattered was that it was so wonderfully, blissfully quiet.

Silence was one of the hardest commodities to come across on a military base; there was always something going on, whether it be a training exercise with a hard-edged sergeant screaming at recruits or the grunts trying out whatever shiny new piece of equipment the government had seen fit to waste money on, but out there in the shower block, muffled by a copse of trees, there was nothing. Beautiful, precious, nothing.

Today had been yet another long lesson in tedium, worsened by the fact that your most beloved friends were out in the field, busy repairing the vehicles with whatever they could scavenge from the base. You already felt exhausted at the idea of how much paperwork you’d have to do after they’d torn through the place, and the day proved you right, with you having to go to every single place in the garages to check what stock had been taken as mechanics had an annoying habit of forgetting to write down what they’d used. It was long into the evening by the time you’d finally finished putting in the orders to replace every strange bit of junk the mechanics had used, and all you could think about was the long shower you were going to take.

The route through the forest was one of the only places you could get away with wearing your headphones and listening to music without getting scolded by the sergeant on patrol, and you took advantage of this privilege every time, blasting some classic disco music in your ears as you approached the shower block, blissfully unaware of the world outside. If not, you might have noticed the sound of the shower running.

As such, you walked into the block thinking of nothing but how your new eucalyptus shower steamer would smell, having got fairly good reviews online. You already had a favourite shower at this point, the one on the very end, with the best water pressure that the rusted old pipes could provide, though it had no door to speak of. You walked along the yellowed tile floor, passing by the empty showers until you finally reached your favourite one, only to find that it was very much not empty.

Standing under the sputtering stream of water was a tall, well-built man, his tan back glistening under the hundreds of droplets of water, highlighting the various white scars on his back, some of them small, some of them intimidatingly large. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down, admiring the muscles in his back and perfectly toned legs, as well as a surprisingly sculpted ass. Whoever he was, he was statuesque in his beauty, as though he had been carved out of marble, and as he turned around to face you, showcasing the golden hair that trailed down from his abs, you caught a glimpse of his shaft, thick and long, yet quickly covered by a large hand.

It was that movement that broke the lustful spell you were under, and your eyes finally stopped ogling his body and flicked up to his face. You didn’t recognise him, not his pale green eyes or his crooked nose, but you could absolutely recognise the outrage on his face, and you yanked down your headphones, keeping your eyes firmly above his waist, “I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” His voice was little more than a snarl, “Get out.” You had absolutely no desire to argue with a man built like that, so you gave a quick nod and hurried back out of the shower block, not willing to spend a single second more in his presence.

Since your encounter in the showers, not a single night had gone past where you hadn’t dreamed about the man, his body, his hands, the dark blond hair that led down his navel, and the thick veins on his forearms. It lurked in the back of your mind, eternally present as a lustful little memory to entertain you during the more boring moments of your day.

Yet again, you were in another meeting writing down what items had been used over the week and what needed to be ordered for the next month's exercise. It was made slightly more interesting by the fact that this time, you were working with the SAS, and not just that, but with some of the most feared soldiers there were, including the worst of the worst, Ghost .

You swore you could almost feel the insidious aura coming from the man in the skull mask, as though it was radiating off him in dark waves. When he spoke, his words were sharp and to the point, never expending more energy than was strictly necessary, and rarely directing his attention to you, sitting in silence and taking notes, not that you were complaining. Every time the man spoke, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as though your body was trying to warn you that he was dangerous. It was only toward the end of the meeting that you finally spoke up, standing and reciting everything that you’d written down in your notebook.

It was times like that where you’d have to put on a brave face as if you feared the room of men no more than a pack of kittens, making sure your voice was loud and firm, forcing them to listen to you. None of them seemed particularly interested; after all, you were a perfect, albeit boring professional, yet you remained undeterred, making eye contact with each of them. Even Ghost was looking at you; you could see those pale green eyes watching you from underneath his skull mask with a strange intensity. You remained undeterred, staring back at the man as you read out the various things that were in stock and what would have to be ordered, yet there was something niggling at the back of your head. Those eyes were strangely familiar.

It took you a second to remember, and then the barely buried memory came back: the beautiful man in the shower, his body glistening, his toned muscles, and the dark blond hair that covered his navel. The words in your mouth died on your tongue, and you saw Ghost’s eyebrow raise underneath his mask as if he was intrigued by your reaction to him. You cleared your throat, hoping that the heat you felt in your cheeks wouldn’t show up on your skin as you dropped your eyes back down to your notebook, pointedly ignoring him as you focused back on your task, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything.

Inexplicably, Ghost spoke up, interrupting your admittedly dull recital of your list, “How soon can we get a restock of the M16 mags?” His question forced you to look over at him, and his pale green eyes seemed as though they were trying to drill right through your head. You refused to back down this time, meeting his gaze no matter how prevalent the image of his naked body was in your mind, even if you did stumble over your words as you flipped through the pages, “Those mags, uh, the ammo for the M16 that is, we ordered those last Tues-Wednesday , so they’ll be in by the end of this week.”

You couldn’t see his expression under his mask, but you could have sworn that it tugged in a way that suggested he was smirking underneath the black fabric, a touch of smugness in his eyes. Was he flirting with you? There was no possible way for you to find out in the middle of a full room, so you decided to put that tantalising idea to the side, wrapping up the last few items on your list and then glancing around the room, “If there’s anything else, please send me an itemised list by the end of the day.”

With that, the meeting was over, every soldier packing up their files, undoubtedly each one as bored as you, and you had little desire to spend any more time with them, especially with the suspiciously intense look Ghost was giving you, so you gave your farewells and left the room as quickly as you could, doing your best to rid your mind of the confusing thoughts whirling around in your mind. Ghost, the supposed ‘psycho’ killer, was flirting with you. Or perhaps threatening you. You weren’t entirely sure which. And yet, you had a strange desire to find out, that small part of you that longed to step into dangerous territory. But how could you? That meeting had been the only time you’d ever interacted with the man; other than your brief encounter in the shower, it didn’t seem like there would ever be another opportunity to be alone with him.

Unless.

Regardless of how outraged he’d been previously, he’d seemed entirely intrigued by you in the meeting, almost amused. You’d seen the direction he was headed; if your mind wasn’t already overtaken with delusional optimism, you could have sworn that he was striding in the direction of the old shower block with what seemed like great determination.

This was one of those deciding moments, a fork in the path where you got to choose what the outcome would be: adherence to your usual routine or something far more thrilling. You could almost feel the clock ticking in your head, your time running short, and for once, you decided to be brave and at least a little bit stupid, heading to your barracks to pick up your things before heading out toward the shower block, adrenaline pounding in your veins as you made your way through the small woods to the brick building.

Even from the outside, you could hear the shuddering of the pipes as they desperately pumped water, your heart beginning to pick up the pace as you pushed open the heavy wooden door, closing it softly behind you, now able to hear the pattering of water on the tile floor and see the black clothing draped over the bench that ran the length of the wall. You walked down the centre of the block, approaching the last stall on the end, and yet, you couldn’t take that final step. Everything below the waist was screaming at you to leap into the shower with the man, yet your brain conjured images of the humiliating HR meeting you’d be in if you had, in fact, entirely misinterpreted what were admittedly very subtle hints. You didn’t dare push over that line with a man so far above you in rank, but you weren’t prepared to entirely give up, so you merely slunk into the stall next to his, stripping off your uniform and hanging it on the backside of the door, pulling it to and surrendering yourself to an unsatisfying shower.

The shower head shuddered as you twisted the knob for water, a few spats of water dripping out, yet nothing more. There was a good reason you stuck to that end stall; almost every other shower there had been neglected to the point of failure. You took this as a sign to give up, turning around to get your things, only to find Ghost standing in the now open doorway.

There was nothing but a towel lazily wrapped around his hips to cover him up, his blond hair already soaked, water leaving little trails down his body, pulling your eyes down. You quickly snapped your attention back to his face, your hands already going to cover your chest and between your legs instinctually. Ghost’s eyes lingered on your body before finally flicking to the broken shower head, then back to your face. You could see that intrigued twinkle in his eyes as he gave you a slightly smug smirk, gesturing toward the other shower stall with his head, “Mine works. We should share.”

You almost couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. The exact situation had been playing out in your mind ever since you’d seen him naked, yet never once had you made the connection between your shower Adonis and Lieutenant Ghost. The two couldn’t be reconciled in your head, but you quickly decided that this was a problem to be solved later, if at all. You turned your non-functioning shower off, though slightly reluctant to use the hand covering your chest to do so, and then walked out of the stall, ducking under Ghost’s arm holding the door open for you, and rounding the corner into the warm stream of the only functional shower, allowing the water to wash away all the important questions that should have been asked, only focusing on the present moment.

Though you’d chosen to face away from him, you could still hear the noise of his towel hitting the wall as he tossed it aside, your entire body tensing up as you felt his presence behind you, the nerves nipping at the back of your mind. You didn’t dare turn to look at him, trying to find something else to focus on to quiet your frenzied brain, your eyes flicking to the one bottle of his on the floor in the shower, trying to figure out what scent ‘original’ was supposed to be, and whether one liquid really could be shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.

Your thoughts on his toiletries were brought to an instant halt at the first touch of his hand on your hip, a questioning touch as though he was gauging your interest before moving any further. He might have been feared special forces, yet here, you retained a level of control, of security. You relaxed into his touch, leaning back until you bumped up against his chest, and his arm snaked around your stomach, wrapping tightly around your waist as he stepped forward into the stream from the shower, his head dipping down to rest in the crook of your neck. You could feel his other hand trail a path up your thigh before it, too, wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him in a tight embrace, like a man starved for any sort of touch.

For a moment, the two of you remained in that simple intimacy, your arms resting on top of his, enjoying the sheer pleasure of his embrace. Your hands were the first to move, your fingertips gently trailing over the muscles in his forearms, admiring the strength in them, unable to hold back a smile as you saw the not-so-subtle way he flexed them for you. His hand moved then, and you followed them with your own, one trailing down over your hipbone to the top of your thigh, gently stroking the skin there, the other one shifting up until it was just underneath your breast, pausing right before he touched anywhere interesting.

Clearly, he wasn’t about to touch anywhere without your explicit permission, and you decided to test him, pulling his left hand up until it was settled over your breast. His fingers paused, and you felt the tenseness in his arms, yet after a beat, he stretched out his fingers, tracing a little pattern over the swell of your breast, circling your nipple before his hand covered your boob entirely, gently squeezing it in his hand. You could feel his breathing growing heavier, every exhale blowing air over the skin of your neck, but you had no intention of stopping, relaxing into his touch, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, your eyes closed. The hand on your thigh had grown tight, fingers digging into your flesh, and you began to move his hand further in to where you could feel a growing need for his touch.

The further you moved his hand, the tighter his grip on your chest got, pulling you closer against him until you could finally feel his hardness pressed against the small of your back. His clear excitement emboldened you further, and you pushed his hand firmly between your legs, letting his fingers slightly part your labia to rest on your clit. That action earned you a low growl from him, and he buried his face into your shoulder as he pushed his fingers further down, touching the slick wetness beginning to leak out of your needy pussy. The second he felt your wetness, he drew his fingers back from you, digging them into your hip and pulling you firmly against him, rubbing the bridge of his nose against your neck as though he was trying to ground himself in the moment.

You had no problem allowing him to take his time, focusing on the simple pleasure of the warm water on your skin and the heat emanating from his chest to your back. His hand moved back to your pussy, more determined than before, as he slid his fingers down your slit, gently probing your slick hole with his fingers. As he slowly slid one in, he let out a strangled groan, shifting his face so he could bite down on the flesh of your neck, his other hand massaging your breast as his finger began to easily slip inside you. He stretched his thumb up to rest on your clit as he gently began to pump his finger in and out of you, rubbing in little circles, and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

The slightest of noises from you seemed to spur him on, and he pushed another finger inside you, beginning to kiss and suck at your neck as he did so, your body easily accepting his two fingers, and so he followed it with a third, his dick twitching with excitement against your back as all three of his fingers sank inside you without resistance.

Whatever good sense you had left was beginning to dissipate in the haze of your lust, and you reached your hand behind you to wrap around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke him as he gently fucked you with his fingers. He rewarded you with a soft groan in your ear, and so you quickened your pace, beginning to pump his dick in earnest, wanting him to receive the same pleasure as you. Your body was eagerly opening up around him, and the last bit of your intelligence vanished as your desperation for him overpowered you, and you begged for stupidity in two words.

“Fuck me.”

There was no hesitance in Ghost’s touch now as he pulled his fingers out of you, turning you to face him and then bending down to grab your thighs and lift you up, pinning you to the cool, damp wall of the shower stall. You could see the lust in his eyes as he shifted to hold you with only one hand, the other quickly moving to his dick, positioning it at your slick entrance and then slowly beginning to lower you down onto him. There was no comparison to the pleasure you felt, not only from feeling him slide into you, but to watch his face as he did so, his open lips, the desperate look in his eyes, his gaze entirely focused on you as though you were Aphrodite herself. You sunk your teeth into your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud as you felt him stretch out your insides, yet you let your hands dig into his shoulders, your nails raking his skin as you felt every inch of him.

When you finally sunk down to the base of his cock, he leant forwards to rest his head on the wall beside you, clearly struggling to contain his composure, his hand digging into the flesh of your thigh, the other splayed out on the cool tile wall. He took a second to breathe before he began to slowly thrust up into you, his hand shifting from your thigh to your hip to pin you in place. Even in your wetness, you could feel how big he was, filling you up so perfectly, and you arched your back against him, desperate to feel every inch of him inside you. His eyes were on you now, and he moved his hands from the wall to your lips, tugging your bottom lip out from between your teeth and issuing you a singular command, his gaze intense.

“I want to hear you.”

Even in your pleasure, you couldn’t stop yourself from obeying a command from your superior officer, and you let out the moans you’d been holding back, tightening your legs around his waist to pull him into you as much as possible, your fingers raking against his back as he fucked you, his hips beginning to move more forcefully against you. His fingers now moved to your hair, brushing the errant strands out of your face and then shifting down to cup your cheek, lifting your face, his voice soft, “Look at me.”

There was no mistaking the utter lust in his gaze when you looked up at him, yet you could also see quite a great deal of tenderness, of genuine care, which only served to heighten your pleasure, your hands moving from his shoulders to the back of his neck as you clung to him, desperately grinding your hips against him. He picked up his pace further yet still restrained himself from fully slamming into you, his grip like a vice on your thigh. His voice grew hoarser as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, clearly strained, “Touch yourself.”

In another situation, you might have felt insecure, yet you were entirely awash in lustful pleasure, and so you obeyed, reaching down with one hand to begin rubbing circles around your increasingly sensitive clit, feeling that same build of pleasure in your core as Ghost fucked you faster still, his expression growing more desperate by the second. He leant forward to whisper his final command against your lips.

“Come for me.”

Your body seemed honour-bound to obey him as your pussy clenched around his dick, your pleasure building until it finally crescendoed, with Ghost’s lips crashing onto yours as you finished, his hips moving frantically as he desperately fucked you, his thrusts stuttering as he finally shot his load deep inside you, his body crushing yours into the wall in a tight embrace. Your kisses became softer as the both of you came down from your frenzied high, his grip on your body loosening slightly, your death grip around his neck becoming less deadly.

With a satisfied groan, Ghost let himself sink to the floor, pulling you down along with him into his lap, letting his dick remain inside you as you settled more comfortably on top of him, resting against his chest as he lazily wrapped his arms around your lower back, cradling you against him. After such bodily heat, the comparatively cool water of the shower felt heavenly on your skin, washing away your intermingled sweat.

You probably could have slept there, with Ghost still buried inside you, yet he was not so spellbound. With a gentle movement, he pulled his softening length out of you, reaching over to grab the bottle of soapy liquid he’d left on the floor. Then, he repositioned you so you were now sitting in between his legs, his thick thighs boxing you in as he opened the bottle behind you. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, nor did you care, still awash in a pleasant afterglow. The touch of his fingers gently massaging the liquid into your hair was a heavenly surprise, and you practically melted into his hands, a human-sized pile of putty perfectly manipulated by him. He ran his fingers through the length of your hair, thoroughly soaping up every strand before he let the cool water wash away the suds.

Then, he got to work on your body. Never had you been so grateful for three-in-one soap as it meant you didn’t have to miss a second of his warm chest against your back as he began to soap up your body, his fingers incredibly gentle against your skin, paying attention to every single part of you, and then letting you lean back against his chest as the water washed everything away, his arms coming to rest around your waist. Every single care of yours seemed to follow the soap down the train as you relaxed into him, enjoying the way he rested his chin on your head as you closed your eyes, finally entirely at ease.

#jack writes #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod fic #cod ghost #ghost smut #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x female reader

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jade-jini · 1 year ago

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imagine dom nerd won x popular sub reader 😩

(I love my wony baby so much Ahhh also I’m sorry I took forever 😞) Smut!

Nerdy wony who might not be that talkative but is not exactly shy you know what I mean? Everybody would believe she’s a sub because look at her she’s so cute and polite but when you guys are in bed?? She shows you who’s in control and who owns you.

(And when I say dom nerd wony is cute but at the same time has a resting bitch face then what? It makes sense.)

To me wonyoung knows how to make you shy, it’s just she decides not to do it aaall the time. But when she does she has your face red and the words caught in your throat it’s so funny. Whenever people see you interacting and see how the popular y/n gets easily flustered by this nerd’s flirting and teasing they’re like??? Stick to your role ??

Wony who loves both rewarding you:

“Cmon baby, if you make me come with just your pretty mouth I’ll make sure you have a good grade in the next test” she said while passing her fingers through your hair, but let’s be honest, her pussy in your mouth was enough reward. Knowing that she meant what she said tho, that was just extra motivation.

And also punishing you:

“We studied so hard and for what, y/n?” She said while she has you bent on her lap, hand print already on your ass.

“I’m sorry mommy…”

Wonyoung spanked you a few more times, each one leaving a painfully delicious sensation. She didn’t stop until your moans became sobs, and she would’ve felt bad (not really) if it wasn’t ‘cause of how your pussy was basically dripping. Your slick making it look so shiny, the taller girl almost drooling at the view. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to find a different punishment for you, I think I already turned you into a cute little pain slut.”

So a little throwback; the classic popular kid needed tutoring and the nerd who gets assigned to help you by the teacher. Wonyoung is not really fond of popular kids so she wasn’t excited about the idea, specially since she knew you and your friends could be idiots sometimes. However, she could see in your eyes that you really needed help when she looked over the professor’s shoulder, and he didn’t give her a lot of options anyway when talking about it. So she simply accepted. You two quickly agreed on going to your place after class, and you left right away to meet with your friends, leaving her confused ‘cause why at your place though? When the library was a more than good space to study but whatever, she got sht to do so she didn’t think much about it for the rest of the day.

The thing is before the whole conversation, you and your friends already thought it would be fun to tease her once she’s at your place for the “private lessons”. The plan was to see how flustered you could make her, what was her limit. She’s kinda quiet so you thought she was shy. But oh you were so wrong my bro. Wony’s quiet and serious but shy and submissive? Nu-uh. And you were gonna learn it soon since your dumb ass was also planning that, if she didn’t back off on it, you could also end up having a lot of fun with the cute nerd in your own bed. You kept that to yourself tho, daydreaming about it for the rest of the day.

And as expected by me ‘cause I’m the author but not by y/n, everytime you tried to flirt with her, she’d answer so nonchalantly. Like you were starting to wonder if you simply sucked at flirting ‘cause why couldn’t you make her blush or stutter just once??

On the other hand tho, it seemed so easy for wony to cause this reaction on you lmao

“I just think it’s weird that a pretty girl like you is single ‘cause If I was your partner I’d be jealous knowing you’re going to another g—”

“Aww you think I’m pretty huh?” She teased with that little smirk she had that she didn’t allow to reach her eyes just to seem like she couldn’t care less about it.

“I-I mean…” ugh! Wtf? You were nervous? Since when YOU get nervous? Who did she think she was to make THE y/l y/n stutter? It should be you making HER nervous! You were tired of this game already. “What I meant is that—”

“Eyes on your book, y/n.”

“But I’m—”

“Quiet, y/n.” She basically ordered in such an authoritarian tone.

“Yes ma’am.” You answered, unable to disobey her.

What you didn’t know is that through the whole day Wonyoung has been studying your behavior, from the way you’d get nervous easily to the way you’d obey her every word. She’d merely hint she was thirsty and you were already bringing her water or juice or anything you could find. She said she was cold and you gave her your jacket (which did make her heart flutter but she kept it cool). It was a nice change from the way you and your friends (mostly your friends tho you weren’t that bad:c ) would normally treat other smart, shy kids around school. Now it was her who wanted to see what were your limits. Plus, you were having a little bit of an attitude whenever you got frustrated with a question. And she doesn’t know who told you you could act like that, just because she’s technically your teacher right now and has to have patience doesn’t mean she’s gonna be no punching bag.

“Jang.” You call her, clearing your throat and doing your best to sound confident and firm “Jang I’m talking to you, I don’t understand this question.”

“On your knees.” Wonyoung said, in that nonchalant tone that turned you on you hated.

“What?” You asked, completely confused.

“On. Your. Knees.”

“How is that gonna help me with the que—” bro you stupid fr.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Wonyoung did NOT like having to repeat herself at all, and it was obvious in her eyes even when she had that mean smile in her face. So your body didn’t listen to anything but her order, like her voice was a switch that activates something in you. How could you not listen to her when it felt like that was the only reason you were brought to this earth?

“Good girl. You look so pretty down there.” She praised and you can’t remember the last time you felt this eager for more praising. And you definitely can’t recall wanting it in this position, on your knees in front of her chair. “You’d look even better if that mouth of yours that you can’t seem to keep quiet was busy in something more important than complaining.”

“Hey! I don’t talk that m- Hmm!” And without any warning she just grabbed your hair and pushed your face against her bare cunt. When did she even take her panties off?! Or did she go to school without them at all under her skirt? Jeez.

“There there, hmmm~” she quietly moaned while slowly moving your head to pleasure herself. You were not gonna lie, it was so hot how she was basically using you like that.

“You go to class with no panties? That’s such a slutty behavior you k—” you wanted to tease but she was gonna have none of it, and there she had you shutting you up with her pussy once again.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to a good use. Be good and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” She threatened, but it sounded so good so was it really a threat?

“Just like that, baby. Keep that pretty mouth right there ‘till I come in it...Hmm fuck y/n~” you heard her from the position you were in, and the beautiful sounds she was making just motivated you to keep going and to do as good as it was humanly possible. You tried grabbing her thighs to have her more steady but she slapped your hands away.

“Ah Ah! Hands behind your back. You wanna touch? You ask first.” She ordered while grabbing your neck and making you look up. Gosh being ordered like this turned you on so much, you obeyed immediately.

“Can I please touch you, mommy?” You asked in such a sweet tone but Wait. What did you just call her?

Fuck… Wonyoung thought, she wanted to hear you calling her that again and again. “Yes, yes you can baby. And you better call me that again when you’re coming for me do you hear me?” She said with the grip on your neck feeling slightly tighter, letting you know you had only one choice. You nodded eagerly, which made her giggle ‘cause you looked cute fr.

With ease, she stood you up and guided you to your couch, pushing you so you’d lie on your stomach. Wasting no time, wony undressed you entirely, the moment your ass was exposed she left a few spanks on it, making you squeak in surprise. This girl got you so wet so fast, your body has never reacted this way with any of your previous sexual partners. But Wonyoung just knows how to touch you. The way her hands travel over your skin. The way her mouth tastes you, making you moan her name and the title that escaped your lips earlier, asking her for more. Asking her to ruin you.

“You’re so needy. One would assume such a popular pretty girl gets fucked everyday if she wants to huh?” You heard, followed by a spank that got a loud high pitch noise from the back of your throat, making her laugh at your reaction and giving you another one “your pussy looks so pretty, exposed like this for me.” She said before bringing two fingers inside it, while her mouth was busy torturing your clit. You were a whining mess, it felt so good and god you were feeling it everywhere. The pleasure taking over you. Wony’s fingers reaching as deep as she could, and so fast turning your brain into nothing. She got you drooling over your own shirt that was resting under your head “m-mommy…Hmm gonna come… p-please~” you left in a moan, barely understandable.

“Ask properly, and I’ll let you. You sound like an idiot right now. Speak properly, baby.” The taller girl said, and it took a lot from you to able to recollect your thoughts, ‘cause they were all just so full of her.

“Please.. please mommy- fuck ~ please let me come..” you begged while sobbing, it all felt too good, and you were so close that the mere idea of not being allowed to come had you tearing up a little bit. But Wony wasn’t gonna be that cruel.

“Good girl.” She whispered right next to your ear and you had to bite your lip to contain a cry from escaping you. She started fucking you faster, focusing more on stimulating your clit. Her other hand kneading and caressing your ass. You let yourself go and came in her mouth, moaning so loud and sobbing, not being able to say any word, just pure sounds of pleasure. The same ones she did (tho hers were lower) as she tasted your orgasm in her tongue and felt you tighten around her fingers.

“That was.. so good wony..” you said out of breath, trying to look back to her, but she made you lie down again, surprising you.

“Was? What do you mean ‘was’?” You heard before feeling her teasing your cunt with her fingers again. Oh.

———

The next morning on your way to class, your legs were still feeling sore so when your friends saw you they clearly noticed the way you were complaining while walking, as if you spent the night working out.

“Jeez y/n, what happened to you?” One of your friends asked. Before you could answer, Wonyoung who was going down the stairs next to you stopped right next to you and gave you a warning with her eyes that made you feel a shiver going down your spine. You gulped and could only answer your friends with “I.. fell?” To which she gave you a little smirk.

“See you after class for our second lesson?” She said, not asking but just letting you know she already decided your plans and gosh she’s so hot dhhdkdfj- sorry. You could just nod before seeing her walking away to her advanced class. Your friends looked at you with shocked faces ‘cause Wtf was all that? But you ignore them and go to your class as well.

Eventually your grades did get better tho, the perks of giving a dom nerd good pussy.

Conclusion: it’s always the quiet nerds lol.

(Also if you like nerd wony go read this one that @pupyuj wrote ‘cause I love it <3)

#ive x reader #ive scenarios #ive imagines #ive smut #ive wonyoung #Ive Wonyoung x reader #Dom Wonyoung #Nerd Wonyoung #dom Wonyoung x reader #kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #ive x y/n #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 1 year ago

Text

pussydrunk!Yuuji knew you had somethin special between your legs, even before you gave him a sample: He flirts with you endlessly, showing his interest in you any time he gets a chance. 'Fuck, y/n, have mercy...' Yuuji thinks when he finds you on your lavender loveseat beautiful brown legs spread, intently reading the magazine you're holdin up to your nose. The shape of your pussy in your tiny panties makes his mouth water; his dick rising so fast he gets a bit dizzy. "Hey, I'm so fuckin tired. Hope your day was better than mine, pretty baby.. Was it?" Yuuji asks sweetly. Your nose still pinches at the pet name "'S fine, I guess. Whooped the fuck outta Panda today." You answer without takin your eyes from the gossip you're currently consuming. "Scuse me, I was talkin to her. How rude!" You look down to see him starin between your thighs, leanin to plant wet kisses against your clothed clit lovingly. "So fuckin nasty.." You whisper, spreading to make room as Yuuji removes your underwear.

pussydrunk!Yuuji died and went to heaven the first time you let him hit: He's naked on top of you, eyes shut tight huffin hard as fuck in your face. "Ooh shit, girl! Tight as hell.. Ahhhh fuh- hold up.. Gonna cum, y/n. Pussy's too wet round my shit. Stay still for a second." Oh hell naw! Can't believe your ears right now. You didn't get all dolled up for nothing. Makeup perfectly matching your glittery sapphire one piece lingerie. "Yuuji, you just slid in.. Aint even start strokin yet." Tone heavy with annoyance, but he can barely hear you. Blood rushin in his ears; black dots his vision. Then Yuuji's filling you up half a second later; lickin and suckin on your neck as he presses in deep as he can. "Fuckfuckfuck! Please don't hate me, y/nnn.. Ah shit! Can't stooop.." He's crushing you under his weight, poor baby so incoherent. Doesn't even realize how he pathetically chants 'pussy's too good' as you land a smack on the back of his head.

pussydrunk!Yuuji feels like the world's ending when you don't let him fuck for a while after the first time: You're sitting with your back against your pillows in bed scrolling through the gram when he bursts in the room, briefly attempting to pry your knees apart. "Baby, come oooon. Need it so bad. Why are you torturing me like this?" Yuuji's been such a whiny brat about it. You want it too but he needs a fuckin lesson. "Boy.. First off, not ya baby. We ain't datin. Two, you came too fast, and waaay too fuckin much. Do you even know how much nut you spilled in my shit by the time you finished?" You fix him with a steely glare for good measure but his goofy ass only hits you with a perplexed "Ummm. A lot?" You scoff, rolling your eyes before looking back to your phone. "Baaaaaaby!" "Not cha baby.."

pussydrunk!Yuuji that starts bargaining after a few weeks, ready to gamble with his life if that means fuckin you asap: "Playin with my emotions, y/n. Just tell me what I need to do already. Do anything, name it. Just tell me what you want and it yours." He's got you pinned to a wall at the school, hands on either side of your head, dick tenting in his uniform. "No, Yuuji. Don't think you learned your lesson yet." "I did, baby! I'm sorry. So so sorry for filling your pretty lil pussy up without permission." You look into his shiny eyes, feeling a bit guilty at your teasing. His handsome features looking so devastated as he hangs his head, stuffing his face into your throat. Fuck, his submission has you so damn wet; panties sticking to your plump pussy lips. How much longer can you keep this up? "Hmmm.. Come over tonight?" Yuuji's like a kid in a candy store, head poppin up as he grins at you widely. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, baby." His kisses smother you as he whispers his appreciation against you lips. You laugh, pushing him back to retain your tough act. Even though all you want is to be impaled on his cock again. "Whatever, Itadori. Just dont be late. Oh and one more thing: Not your baby." Your tell him in a sing song voice, walking away with a little extra sway in your hips. "We'll see bout that.." Yuuji says to himself, squeezing his dick as he stares at the jiggle of your backside.

pussydrunk!Yuuji who refused to take any chances now that he's finally got another shot. He makes sure to jerk off before he comes over, hoping to God that helps with feeling of your compact pussy. When he gets there, he starts off with your pleasure; has you cum on his hand and tongue first. Yuuji quickly finds out nuttin before was a good idea. Especially from how his dick keeps jolting at the feel of you round his fingers, the delicious fuckin taste of you drippin down into his mouth. You're beggin for a break by the time Yuuji puts you on your side. "Pleeease baby, c-can't yet. Need a few mintues." Voice low, already a bit hoarse from screaming his name for the past half hour. "Aw.. I'm ya baby now? That right?" He coos, chuckling at how you nod but try scootin up to escape him swipin his dick up and down you drenched slit. He pulls you back by your hips, his fingers itchin to grip your y/h/c locks and hold you in place. "Naw, where you goin? Said I could finally get in this cute lil pussy tonight." "Can, just need to catch my- YUUJI!" Your not sure if you ever hollered so fuckin loud in your life, your soul descending straight to the depths of hell when he skewers you on his thick dick. "Hold up, baby. Pleeease! Dont gotta stop. Just n-need a quick break." "Mm mm, y/n. Can't do that." One arm slidin underneath you to wrap around and hold your tummy; the other under your knee to lift up your leg. Yuuji's thrusts are slow and shallow, just testing the waters of your perfect cunt, hoping to keep some kinda composure. "Oh. My. GOD. Got my dick trapped, baby. Lemme go so I can fuck you." Pulls your trembling frame closer against his body, kissing your shoulder, sliding in so much fuckin deeper. "Wait, Yuuji, wait!" You never receive any reprieve though. He only kisses your shoulder a second time, grippin at your tummy fat as he speeds up. "Wish I could. Mmmfuck.. Waited too long already." Eyes rollin back when he smashes his pelvis against your juicy ass over and over. "Cant think, cant eat or fuckin sleep without this pussy, y/n/n." Yuuji lifts your leg higher, opening you wider as his dick jams in to the base. Your pussy's drooling all over his balls, tits bouncing wildly and its getting really fuckin hard to take. "Y/nnn! Holy fuckin shit- gonna be mad at me when I creampie you again? Dont be, princess. Know I can't help myself." You're unable to do little more than wordlessly keen in response, poor cunt rapidly fluttering as his curved girth jams your g spot. Shit, no one's ever fucked you so thoroughly. You've never felt like this; can't even take a breath as he nails the tender spot with too much accuracy. "Yuujiiiiii!" You're squealing and squirting all over his cock, makin a mess of him without permission- just like he did a few weeks ago. Except, Yuuji fuckin loves it, is instantly obsessed with the sight and sensation. His eyes cross, saliva running down his chin as his body spasms and he nuts in you with everything he's got. "Oh fuck, y/n. This pussy mine! Baby, say it. Say it's mine, tell me you belong to me." It's the first time he's given you any typa command but you submit like you've been doin it all your life. "Yooours, Yuji. Forever yours!"

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mountainsandmayhem · 10 months ago

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hey hun!! for your 500 followers celebration could you do 📝, of a scenario in which joel comes home to find you all cramped up and in pain since you began your period and he decides to be the comforting little man and cuddles you to death??

(no pressure!! 🥰🤗)

-vii💗💗

Joel: Period Master

18+, but mostly fluff

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

AN: Thank you sweet Viv for this ask. This is based in the Little Dove universe, but Sarah and Ellie are teenagers and living at home. 💋 also, I 100% did not edit or proof read this. Sorry!

Joel has had a long ass day. A joke of a day really. First the concrete was late, then someone broke the powered wheelbarrow so they were moving gravel by hand. Then it started raining and they scrambled to cover everything, the job site soon became a muddy mess. He’s desperately looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of whiskey.

He pulls into the garage to see your vehicle already parked, which is strange since you had plans with a friend for after work drinks.

He trudges from the truck to the back door, mud still breaking off his work boots along the shiny concrete floor of the garage. He toes them off before heading into the back entry. Your heels are tossed on the floor, work bag and jacket haphazardly placed on the bench.

“Babe?” He calls from the back door, walking around to the family room to find his two daughters curled up on the couches.

“Hi girls. Where’s your mom?”

They both shoot daggers from their eyes, Ellie clutching the blanket tighter around herself and Sarah flipping the ice pack that’s draped across the back of her neck.

Shit, already that time.

The joys of living with all women….they’ve synced up. His usually sweet teenagers daughters turn extra moody, but Joel is the supporter of this family in every way, so he is always prepared for this time each month. Sarah, usually the sweet tooth, needs salt and chocolate milk. Ellie, usually the salty one, needs Diet Coke and green gummy frogs. All things Joel keeps tucked up in a cupboard, or in the back of the beer fridge in the garage.

He sneaks quietly back into the living room, putting the emergency supplies for the girls down on the coffee table as they watch Dirty Dancing.

Ellie looks up at him with sad eyes, tears welling in the corners. “Thanks, dad.”

He crouches down beside her and rubs her lower back through the big fuzzy blanket she’s cocooned in. “You’re welcome, kiddo. Do you need anything else?”

Sarah’s head pops up from her couch, “Mom’s not doing well. You should go be with her.”

He kisses both his daughters on the foreheads, taking a big breath before walking down the hall to your bedroom. Nothing in this world breaks his heart more than seeing you in pain. He knows some months can be worse than others, he knows about the bloating and the large clots you deal with. He knows that you can be insatiably hungry one minute and throwing up the next. He knows that your cramps can have you on the floor in the matter of seconds most of the time.

He opens the door as quietly as possible, finding you curled in a tight ball under the down filled duvet, just your hair peaking out the top. The room is stifling hot, the air almost thick, it feels like being in Phoenix in July as he pads over to the bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, carefully climbing up beside you, trying not to disturb you. A lesson he learned a few years ago when you had finally gotten comfortable, only to be brought to big crocodile tears when he moved a pillow that was tucked against your back.

A sad groaning whine leaves your throat as his large palm dips under the blanket to cup your forehead. “Sweetie, you’re burning up.”

“I’m freezing,” you whine, pulling the big blanket tighter around you.

“Ok, baby girl. I’m here now,” he says, standing and stripping down to his boxers briefs. You peek your eyes over the blanket, watching the way his strong body flexes and relaxes, the muscles ripping as he moves. The summer sun has tanned his arms a beautiful golden brown.

He wanders around to lay behind you. “Let me in, honey.”

You let go of the blanket so he can slip under, his warmth immediately sinking into you, heating your sore and achy body all the way to the bone. “You’re practically naked under here, Little Dove.”

You sink back into his heat. “Don’t look, I’m wearing the worst granny panties and one of those super pads.”

His hands trail around your slides, a large palm resting on the very bottom of your belly where the cramps are, hand sliding under the band of your incredibly unattractive panties. “You’re sexy to me no matter what you wear.”

Joel begins kneading the muscles of your lower abdomen, simulating the contracting of your uterus and the pain begins to ease. You moan and relax more into your perfect man.

“That feel good?” He says in a deep, gravel filled whisper.

“Mm-hmmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and finally feeling relief from the debilitating cramps.

Joel pulls you in tighter and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re suffering, baby. I’m going to take care of you. Anything you need, I’ll do it or get it.”

“DAAAAAAD!!” Sarah and Ellie call in unison from the couch. “PIZZAAAA!!!”

You snort a little laugh. Poor Joel, having to deal with all these uterus’s.

“Pizza party?” You ask.

“Anything for my girls.” He hums, stubble grazing the shell of your ear.

“Anything?” You say mischievously.

“You’re not painting my toe nails again”

“Damn. I have this new hot pink that I think would really suit you,” you tease.

Joel’s quiet for a moment, still kneading the muscles absentmindedly, but with incredible care and precision. “I’ll lend you my favourite sweats and t shirt if you stay away from my toes.”

“Deal,” you say with a wince.

“What’s wrong?” Joel says, pulling you onto your back so he can look you over. Concern etching his eyebrows.

You reach up and rub the creases spot with your thumb, his eyes meeting yours. “Butt hole cramp,” you say flatly.

Joel smirks down at you, at this angle your swollen, heavy breasts are on display for him. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller. And our daughters will riot if we don’t get them pizza soon.”

Joel lends you his clothes and helps you get dressed before sliding on his jeans and t shirt. He kisses your forehead and helps you to the lazy boy chair, brining your king sized duvet with him to wrap you up.

“I’ll be back with pizza,” he says to the group.

As soon as he’s out of ear shot Ellie pipes up, “do you think if we play this up we can get him to let us paint his toe nails again?”

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #soft!joel miller #joel miller fluff #nikki answers

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signedaiko · 2 months ago

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Hiiii! May I request some platonic headcanons for MTMTE? I was thinking about a g/n human reader pulling some pranks on some bots on the LL (Ratchet, Rodimus, Rewind) and what their reactions would be.

Ratchet | Rewind | Rodimus [MTMTE]

In which you try pulling a prank on some of your friends aboard the Lost Light.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Human | Autobot. Platonic.

Ratchet

Your friendship started with you making teasing comments, which eventually led to jokes and seemed to be verging towards pranks

Ratchet was a grumpy one, so while your jokes are welcome, there is a time and place for them

One of those times is not the first thing in the morning, especially when he's preparing to get into a surgery

And yet, as he went to enter his office, he was surprised to run into some kind of thin, transparent film that forced him back onto his aft

You'd spent the whole night lining the door of the medbay with several rolls of plastic wrap, knowing his optics would still be woken up

It came to bite you in the ass; he wakes you up from your sleep after the all-nighter by yelling your name and banging at your door

He's pissy, and now he's making you sit on his desk all day, watching the surgery, and banging his fist on the table every time you start to doze off

You can sleep when he's done and when he feels you've learned your lesson for startling him so early

Rewind

You were the life of the party, in many ways

A lot of Rewind's best recordings come from you

Were all humans this fun? Or were you some rarity?

Either way, he's a big fan, and he's always got his camera rolling if you're there

You also make him feel special because none of your jokes or pranks are aimed at him

In fact, you usually request his help with pranks, be it as small as catching it on tape or something like replaying someone's voice to lure another of the crew

That's what made your plan against him so effective; he never expected himself to be a target of your genius

Until one late evening, he enters the habsuite to get some rest and-

Wait

Why is everything on the wrong side?

Chromedome is there resting, and Rewind wakes him up to ask what's going on

"What are you talking about? Are you feeling okay?"

Chromedome fully convinces Rewind he may have something wrong until he pulls up a clip of the room

"Fuck." He hears your small voice come from somewhere behind Chromedome, and he's running at you

"Both of you! Traitors!"

Rodimus

Rodimus knew you better than most others, and while he pretended to scold you in front of Ultra Magnus all the time, he liked the energy you brought

Besides, he was always pulling small pranks of his own, usually on Ultra Magnus, which was cheap and easy, but pranks nonetheless

That meant he presented a challenge, though

Rodimus was very good at telling you were up to something and had caught many of your pranks before

Unfortunately for him, most is not all, and he'd once again been fooled by your trickery

You'd mixed powdered sugar into his paint polish, which made it look shiny at first, but once dried, it left him very sticky and matte and made his paint look uneven

Oh, he knew who'd done it the moment someone pointed it out, and he wasn't going to let you get away with it so easily

Next thing you know, Siren is over the ship's comms claiming there's an emergency and that Rodimus is severely injured in the med bay

Of course you go racing to see him, unaware the announcement was only to your hab suite

He sat there, Rewind by his side, recording as you burst in with emotions evident on your face, only to realize what he'd done

Asshole

Authors Note - I am actually, secretly, the least funny person in the universe so I hope these parnks were realistic in some shape or form! Thank you for requiesting 🩵

#aiko writez #transformers #mtmte #idw #headcanons #lost light #transformers x reader #x reader #reader insert #transformer headcanons #mtmte ratchet #ratchet x reader #mtmte rewind #rewind x reader #mtmte rodimus #rodimus x reader

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maudie-duan · 13 days ago

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A/N: This will be a six-part series told from the POV of Harry and Marlowe—Yes, this story is based on two High School lovers, but all the characters are of age. I always think it’s a fine line writing this kind of story, but I think they can also bring nostalgia for a time when the world as you know it was contained inside the walls of a building, where everything you felt was greater than the sum of our parts. Take it or leave it. I think we can all learn something from our younger selves. It’s a reminder that we always have more to learn, even when we think we have it all figured out.

Requests-> Here

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, Language, Some Spicy Stuff, Teen Angst, Emotions, Body Shaming. (If I miss anything, let me know.)

I held a torch for a girl that I was too cowardly to keep. Hopelessly failing at every opportunity, knowingly letting her down, becoming too concerned about what everyone would think of me, and that was the problem—me.

There were only five months left of school, and somehow, the teachers were still handing out detentions, trying to teach life lessons that no senior cared about or would take with them; at least for me, it was just another teacher wasting my time. That’s what it was, I thought, until I walked into my biology class after school to serve my time.

When you think of pivotal moments in your life, how did they start? It’s unusually some sort of happenstance, right? A domino effect—a changing, an undoing, a beginning to an end, or an end to a beginning. However you slice it, whether big or small, the moment always finds a way to reveal itself to you in time. It becomes this inevitable change. Change is always guaranteed because there will always be something in our lives that we can’t control—This was one of those moments—the moment I walked into that classroom, and there was Marlowe.

Trust me, I don’t want to be dramatic, but if there was any moment in my life where it just felt like the gods were on my side, it was this day, at this moment, and I knew it the second we locked eyes. I knew without a doubt that this would be my chance, the only opportunity I had left to shoot my shot because I’m telling you, at that moment, that torch for her never burned brighter.

I knew I couldn’t walk away from my high school career, knowing I had experienced everything I wanted, but somewhere in my mind, I knew I had never taken my chance with her, and I didn’t think I could live with that.

“Okay—” Mr. Bryant says, the biology teacher, who was already bulldozing right into his lecture, jumping in like Marlowe or I cared, considering we were the only ones serving time for something as petty as having our cellphones out in class, but now, I’m thinking it’s the best decision I’ve made in a while. When Marlowe peeks at me from the corner of her eye, my heart skips a beat, knowing she’s aware of my presence in the room, and that alone makes it worth it.

“So starting now—you two fortunate souls will get to spend some quality time with me while I grade the many half-assed biology reports you students insist on turning in—” He blabs, and I’m barely paying attention.

Marlowe runs a hand through her long, dark hair, and I watch it cascade in shiny layers as she shifts it all to one side, giving me the perfect view of her profile. She straightens then, rolling her eyes at his words while he continues, “Just because this is your last few months as seniors doesn’t mean the rules and your work go out the window. This is still school, and in my class, you will abide by my rules—”.

“I just think at some point you need to make some kind of exception…” Marlowe interrupts.

“And why is that, Miss. Asher? What makes you the exception?

Marlowe shrugs and leans back, “I don’t think I’m an exception…” She tells him, enunciating that last word just enough that Bryant is crossing his arms, waiting for the bullshit because no matter what we say, he doesn’t care; for all we know, he’s getting off on this, and we are merely his entertainment for the day.

“The only reason I had my phone out was because I was trying to secure my ride for after school…that was literally it—and if you would have just read the text, you would have seen that—”

“A rule is a rule, Miss Asher—and when you get into the real world, you’ll understand—”

“Well, in the “real world”—” she says, bringing her hands up to make air quotations, “There are exceptions to the rules…and now I don’t even know how I’m getting home—”

Marlowe is crossing her arms now, matching his stance, and I’m honestly surprised to see this side of her; then again, I’ve never really gotten an opportunity because we haven’t had a class together since eighth grade—when my fascination with her began, but that’s another story for another day.

“I’m sorry you’re feeling inconvenienced, Miss Asher; now you know how I feel when I have to stop my lesson to take your phone away…”

She scoffs. “Oh my god, dude, it was the last three minutes of class…please just get the cell phone. You have my permission—let’s compare notes…”

“Miss Asher, unless you want to serve another day—which I can tell you don’t—let’s cut the pity party and just get to work…surely you have things to work on—and as for you, Mr. Styles, I would shift your focus elsewhere. It seems Miss Asher has enough going on here without your eyes beating down her neck…”

Marlowe’s head whips in my direction like she had forgotten I was here, and when her eyes roam over my face. It’s like she’s searching, like I’m a distant memory she’s locked away, and I hold my breath, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, then they do, and Marlowe doesn’t look away as fast as I thought she would. Instead, her gaze lingers for a second too long, and I don’t move a muscle. It takes Mr Bryant clearing his throat to snap me out of the trance Marlowe had me in, my whole body burning.

I watch the realization dawn on her face as she turns away, her brows knitting together in confusion, and then she’s running a hand through her hair again, blocking her face from view, a veil of hair creating a wall, and she doesn’t look at me again. Those two hours consumed me, longing for her attention, a girl I knew I could never have.

It was by far the most excruciating two hours I’ve spent in a long time. I’ve never been more aware of myself and another person at the same time.

There have been so many girls, and I don’t say that to brag, just to say that I could have my pick, but Marlowe is the one I’ve wanted—She was unattainable—and whether she knew it or not, I couldn’t say, she was the girl that most guys were tripping over themselves for, but she was taken, so it made my pinning even more tragic.

Here I was, a tragic, hopeless mess, trying to scheme up a plan to get her alone, but lucky enough for me, I had two major factors on my side:

One was that she was possibly stranded; for some reason, she didn’t have her car, which meant she was relying on someone else. Two, when it was time to leave this classroom, we were likely the last few people in the building, and it was a long walk from here to the parking lot, so I would have to start plotting my plan of attack.

I would have to hope that the gods were on my side, and if they were, it would have to stay that way. She would need a ride, and I would be that guy.

So when Mr. Bryant handed me my phone and dismissed me, I was out the door, making my slow descent to the parking lot. Morphing into the noisy creep I was becoming. I took my time, and what would have been a fast pace became the tortoise and the hair: slow and steady wins the race. I found myself eavesdropping on her conversation as I formed and reformed my plan, taking in little bits of information at a time.

Marlowe was on the phone the second she stepped through the classroom door. I kept pace with her, staggering a reasonable distance behind, watching her frantic gestures, hoping that each frustrated wave of her hand meant that I was one step closer to getting my chance. She was clearly getting upset with the person on the other end, and if I had to guess, it was probably her boyfriend. I only caught fragments of her conversation, a few “Are you serious?” a very clear, “No, you never told me that,” and the hopeful line of “Just forget it.”

But then my plan goes south when she ducks into the girl’s restroom right before the parking lot, and I knew right then that I was at my fork in the road: I could either look like more of a creep and wait for her outside, but that would give me away, or I could get in my car and wait it out. She would have to come through those doors, and I could wait in my car and take my chance if I saw her waiting.

Except that wasn’t the case, of course, because as soon as she stepped outside, she started walking toward—I couldn’t say—My only guess would be home, even though I had no clue where that was or how far of a walk that would be. I knew what I had to do. Now, I would look like a total creep when I drove up next to her; my only saving grace was that it was growing dark outside and getting really cold, too cold to be walking in the thin sweater she had on.

So, in my mind, I did what I had to do, and when I drove up next to her, she didn’t even notice, “Hey, do you need a ride?” I asked while rolling my window down.

I don’t think it registered at first; she barely glanced my way but soon did a double take when she realized it was me asking, “It’s kind of cold out,” I add, putting my car in park.

She stops, hesitant at first, her body shifting away like maybe she should keep walking, her brows furrowed in confusion like why are you talking to me, and for a split second, I, too, am second-guessing myself because maybe this is weird since we’ve not shared a single word since Jr. High.

“Are you asking me if I need a ride?” she questioned, puzzled, shaking her head curiously. Then, as the wind picked up, she wrapped her sweater around her body. For some reason, I got out of the car, leaving it running; this seemed more personable in my brain. In my head, I thought a dude with an arm hanging out of the window looked more suspicious, but maybe I was wrong.

Marlowe stiffens at the gesture, taking a reluctant step back just enough that I stop in my tracks, leaving a comfortable distance between us. It feels like I’m coaxing a cat; everything about her posture feels protective, which makes me sad. I could take a million guesses as to why, and I think I know—I thought whatever happened between us that day in middle school would have passed, but I can see that it hasn’t because she’s giving me that same look, waiting for the blow of rejection she never deserved, not then, and not now.

“I heard you tell Mr. Bryant you didn’t have a ride…I don’t know. I just figured I would ask…” I tell her.

She gives me a silent nod, eyes surveying my face, then looks around like she’s looking for anyone else—anyone else that could help her, anyone but me, at least that’s what it feels like, and I sense the slow, steep of rejection, mounting up my spine. It would be fair, but I don’t want it, not from her, not when it seems like she’s a million miles away from the person she was before; so many changes she’s endured, and maybe I’ve changed just enough to bridge the galaxy that has been stretching out between us for years.

And again, I’m not saying there hasn’t been opportunity after opportunity—whether it was us sharing a passing glance in the hallway or me shooting her a brave smile at a party we both happened to be at, there have been many chances—but it never changed anything. I was never the random person she would make conversation with, even in a small circle of mutual friends; it was always her eyes darting around to everyone else but me—and I guess that’s its own rejection within itself.

“Umm—” she says, “Are you sure?”

“Positive—” I quip, a little too excited, and this catches her off-guard.

And when she murmurs, “Okay…” still skeptical, I shove my hands in my pocket, trying to relax my face and wait for her move.

When she takes the first step, I casually stroll to the passenger side of the car and open the door for her—yes, I know this may come off as strange, but I did it anyway, and when she gave me another questioning look, bending to get in the car. I gave her my best smile and caught the corner of her mouth turn up, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she settled in. I shut the door and walked around to my side of the car, holding my breath, willing myself not to make a single facial expression because I couldn’t believe I had her in my fucking car.

I had to grip the wheel to keep my hands from shaking; I had Marlowe in the car, and I had no clue what to do. I thought getting her in the car would be the most challenging part—That was my only plan; there wasn’t anything else, and now I felt like an idiot.

Before she can even give me a sense of direction, her phone rings, and I slow down, barely out of the parking lot, “Hey, what’s up?” she asks flatly.

“Don’t worry about it. I found a ride—” Marlowe places a hand over the speaker and asks if I can pull over for a second, mouthing the word “Sorry” as she continues her conversation.

“Listen, Trent—” she says, and my stomach drops; it was, in fact, her boyfriend, and in that second, I was praying that she wouldn’t say a word about me. Maybe it wouldn’t be that big of a deal; this car ride could easily be explained, but it wasn’t something I had factored in, and I didn’t have a plan or even an idea of what my end game would be.

Was all of this to say I had a single moment alone, one time with Marlowe Asher? Take her home and live in that daydream, in that small window of time we had, because now I want more of her time; a daydream isn’t enough anymore, and I have no idea how to make that happen.

“Trent—you already said that you were busy tonight. I don’t care, and I wasn’t trying to make it an argument—it just felt random—”

I’m looking out the window, attempting to give her space, and then I reach for the heater to turn it up because it’s so cold in here; the chill adding to the current tremors building in my chest, and I’m trying not to draw any more attention to myself.

“I hate when you do that, Tren—no, that—I wasn’t accusing you of anything…all I said was the plans seemed random—especially since you didn’t say anything about them anytime I saw you today…”

She huffs out a loud breath, shaking her head, and I glimpse her turn toward the window, watching her reflection in the glass as she rubs her glossed lips together, frustration seizing her ridged posture.

“Look, Trent—I don’t want to argue…you do you, and I’ll just figure out my own plans tonight—it’s Friday—I’ll just hit up Skylar—”

The second she said Skylar’s name, I thought back to earlier that day, to the blow-off art class I shared with Skylar and Trent. How they had been assigned to be partners a few weeks ago, and although I knew they were friends, there was a palpable shift recently. Maybe a random onlooker wouldn’t be able to spot it, but I did, and it made my blood boil because I knew Trent was dating Marlowe, and Skylar was supposedly her best friend.

Lately, I’ve questioned their friendship, especially when I saw them at parties. The way they interacted—the snide remarks Skylar made toward Marlowe, disguising them as clever jokes when it was evident by Marlowe’s reaction that it wasn’t.

When she tells Trent she loves him and ends the call, a vision of Trent pulling Skylar’s chair toward him in class plays out in my head—the playful gesture warranting a flirty giggle from Skylar. I watched as he leaned down and whispered something in her ear, watching as she bit her lower lip and mouthed the word “Yes,” then he nudged her, standing slightly to adjust his jeans.

I knew that look all too well; I had seen it a hundred times before. I knew this guy like the back of my hand, at least I used to, but that look—the look I had seen him give so many girls in the past, he was into her; just last weekend, I had seen him and Marlowe at a concert. I had gone alone; they hadn’t seen me, so I stayed toward the back, not wanting to make any awkward interactions because that’s what it’s been with him since we stopped hanging out our sophomore year.

Today, you wouldn’t have even known that we had been best buddies since we were kids, playing soccer together like it was life, and back then, it was. It was everything, and you wouldn’t have seen better mates if you tried—We did everything together. It wasn’t that things ended badly; it was more like we grew apart. He chose art and new friends, and I stuck with soccer. I knew everything was chill between us when he caught wind of me becoming soccer captain and congratulated me one day in the hall.

I remember that was the first time I realized he and Marlowe were a thing; he had caught sight of Marlowe from afar, cutting our conversation short. He said a quick “goodbye” and jogged after her, wrapping his tall stature around, all smiles. I choked on my breath, coughing in air, shock taking over me that Trent Smith, one of the most popular guys in school, was kissing Marlowe Asher in front of everyone, the “chubby girl” he made fun of so many times—well they said she was chubby, but what was chubby then was not chubby now, she just had more curves than the average middle schooler; he even went as far as to say the only thing great about her was her face card.

And it’s funny because it took him until sophomore year to even acknowledge her existence past that remark—it took her changing everything about herself for anyone to see her worth. I’m one of them because even now, I know she’s worthy of so much more, except she’ll never know I’ve always wanted her.

What they saw as flaws, I saw as potential, and even if she was carrying a “little extra weight,” who fucking cares, I shouldn’t have cared, but I did care; I cared about what everyone thought because I was shallow and I wanted friends, and maybe that hasn’t changed, because I can still find ways to justify it.

“So where, too?” I say, cutting through the silence; it’s like the conversation took her out of the moment as she stares out the window. She glances over at me then, a vacant look in her eyes, somewhere lost in her thoughts, and she sends me a nervous smile— at least that’s better than the alternative.

Marlowe gave me her address, and I realize we don’t live far from each other. It would be about a 15-minute drive, and as soon as I hit the gas, the countdown began to form another plan, one where we hang out—anything; just anything to get this one night, this one chance because I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to get another nor do I deserve it.

The drive is silent at first. There’s nothing but the sound of my engine and the humming of the heater, which is working overtime because it is so hot, and I want so badly to reach and turn it off, but I’m too afraid to move. She’s texting on her phone, her fingers firing away, “Do you mind if I turn on some music?” I speak up.

“Not at all…” she says quickly, almost dropping her phone, and I see she is still on edge.

I reach for the dial and turn it up. “Do you like Fleet Foxes?” I ask, taking the opportunity to turn down the heat.

She looks over, a smile ghosting her lips, “Yeah—actually…like a lot. It’s crazy because I just went to their concert recently…”

“Oh, no way—I was there too—” I lie like this is new information, like I couldn’t keep my eyes off her the whole concert, glancing over every time the song changed to see her reaction, wishing it was me wrapping my body around her when the band slowed down, and the music went soft.

Marlowe perks up at this bit of news, “No fucking way, dude—”

“Yeah, no lie…they’re so good!” I gush because it was an excellent concert, and as her eyes wander my face, a slow smile spreads, a single dimple dipping into her left cheek.

She relaxes back into her seat, her eyes still on me when I stop at a red light, “I can’t believe you were there. I didn’t see you…you should have said hi…” She says, this time her smile reaches her eyes, but something about it is shy, something starry-eyed about her gaze, and I recognize this look because this is exactly how she used to look at me in Jr. High.

Before I found out she had a massive crush on me, and I ruined everything. I remember thinking she had the most beautiful smile and big brown eyes that matched.

Marlowe’s smile now was like glimpsing the past, as strange as it sounds. I started longing for that girl—For a time before everything changed—before we all had to change, and life was less complicated. When it took less to please everyone, a time when people expected less, and there was more to give.

“I don’t think I saw you there…” I say, telling her another lie, “But I definitely would have said hi…maybe next time—”

My last line has a bashful grin peeking out from the corner of her mouth, and she looks down at her hand then, rubbing her palms flat over her jeans. “Yeah, for sure…” she says and turns toward the window, trying to hide her smile. Little does she know, I can see it in the reflection every time we pass under a streetlight.

‘Jesus, Etc.’ by Wilco plays next, and her head whips to the dial, then to me, and I’m already smiling.

“They’re coming next month—” she announces, grinning from ear to ear.

I laugh, “I know—I’ve already gotten my ticket…” I tell her

She’s completely taken with this news because when she says, “No way!” Joy rushes through her features, her big brown eyes widen, and I feel giddy to keep this excitement going for her. It’s like the music has opened a door, and we both step through it without any uncertainties.

“Oh my gosh—I’m so jealous. Have you heard Wilco’s new album? It’s so good.”

I shake my head. “No,” I voice, focusing on the road and bite my lower lip, trying not to smile. “I can’t say I have. Is it good? I know I need to listen to it soon, catch up before the concert…”

“Yes, you do—I actually have it…” she declares as she leans forward and reaches into her purse; Marlowe digs around for a couple of seconds, then materializes the CD like she’s pulling a rabbit from a hat.

“No way, Marlowe…you have it?” I ask, surprised and now extremely excited because so far, she’s turning out to be way cooler than I thought, but I figured this much if Trent likes her.

“Yes—actually, it was between this and Bon Ivers album…”

“Really? Which Bon Iver album? The first or the second?” I ask.

“The first because my friend Skylar scratch my CD to fucking hell….” She answers, shaking her head, annoyed, I can tell. I would be, too, and I realize this is my opportunity, and when I drop my following line, I make sure to sound as casual as possible.

“I have the first one at home…maybe we can trade for a bit?” And I shoot her a quick glance to see if she’s interested.

She looks down at her CD like she’s contemplating this new negotiation. “Hmm…and when would we trade back?” She questions.

“Anytime you’d want…you just say the word, and it will be right back in your hands…”

Marlowe looks up from the CD, a smile spreading on her face, “Okay—but please just make sure you don’t scratch it—like seriously…I’m kind of a weirdo about my CDs. They’re just like—my lifeline, you know?” Then she laughs.

“God…I sound like such a fucking stoner…sorry, like I’m down to trade for a little bit,” That nervous smile is back, a searching look on her face like maybe she just said too much.

“You seem fine to me…not a weirdo…promise,” I tell her, surveying her before my eyes are back on the road—and now I have to take my chance because this is the last light before I either turn left and take her home or turn right, and we go to my place.

“Would you mind if we stopped by mine to grab that CD?” I ask, keeping my voice even and calm, like my heart isn’t pounding in my chest, like the ringing in my ears isn’t echoing out the same rhythm of my heartbeat, nearly drowning out the sound of Marlowe’s voice when she says, “Sure—?” more like a question, and her reluctance is back but understandable.

“Would that be weird?” she tests.

“I don’t think so…” I reply, hoping she answers before the light turns green. “I’m chill with it if you are,” I add, my face burning, and I wonder if she can see.

She examines me, then, “Sure…” she replies, and swallows, probably just as nervous as me because her smile is gone, and when I move my eyes back to the road, I can see her run her palms down the tops of her jeans again. The light turns green, and the sound of the blinker reverberates through the car as the silence settles in.

Marlowe didn’t say a word the rest of the ride, and when I peeked over at her from the corner of my eye, she just looked out the window, fidgeting with a silver ring on her finger. I could only imagine the thoughts running through her head because mine were a swirling mess, sifting through feelings I’d locked away for years. I had never imagined this as a concrete thing, and I wondered how long I could stretch this moment in time, taking in her tiny details.

The walk from my car was literal crickets, their chirping pinging around us, seeming louder than usual. Now that it was dark, the night sky was clear and chalked full of stars. I kept straining my ears, trying to pick up any sound coming from Marlowe, but she was quiet and perfectly composed. When I offered to carry her backpack, she handed it over, eyes never leaving the bag, and then she let go, running a hand through her hair, surveying her surroundings.

“I never realized you lived this close,” she said, clearing her throat as I turned the key in the door, my hands visibly shaking. I know she sees it because when my eyes dart to hers, she staring at my hands, and I hold my breath, pushing the door open, gesturing for her to go in.

“Yeah, me neither…” I pipe up. My answer is delayed when I breathe her in just as a gust of wind picks up and the scent of vanilla invades my nose, and she through the doorway, and I’m closing us in, and now I’m freaking out because what next? I think as I move around, flicking on lights.

I’ve only ever brought girls over to hook up, except they’ve never come through the front door—the expectations were always clear; she would know exactly why she was coming over. I would meet her at the back door; it was a calculated plan, no question about it, and she was in and out, that’s it; the fewer feelings involved, the better.

“My room is this way,” I say, jerking my head toward the stairs, but she doesn’t look at me then; she’s peering around, taking in the room, scanning pictures along the wall as her eyes float to the stairs, then to me, nodding her head, and her eyes stray back to a picture of Trent and me when we were kids. I had honestly forgotten it was there; my mom tended to hang on to old memories, and I watched as Marlowe’s gaze lingered, and then she glimpsed up and took a step toward me.

I took the stairs slower than normal, not wanting to wind her before we reached my room. At the top of the stairs, I flipped the light switch so she wasn’t clouded in darkness, walking to my room at the end of the hall, “You good?” I asked over my shoulder because she was so quiet, making me even more nervous.

“Yeah…all good…” she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear, “Where is your family?” She questions, and her voice picks up then.

“My parents are visiting my sister in England…some kind of award thing—like meet the parents or something…” I answer, casually hoping this doesn’t make her uncomfortable, and open the door to my bedroom and walk in, listening to her footsteps as she follows behind me, and I set her backpack by the door.

I go straight to my desk, open my CD case, and when I turn around, Marlowe is paused by the door, hand wrapped around the knob, and we lock eyes. “Do you want this open or closed?” she asks.

“Up to you. I don’t mind either way,” I tell her, gathering the binder of CDs. I’m trying to keep myself calm, pretending I’m occupied, when really, the second I hear the door click shut, panic plummets through me, and I strategically place the open case on the floor, crouching down until my butt hits the floor and I start kicking off my shoes.

I look up as she quietly drops her purse by the door, watching me as I nudge my last shoe off. She follows suit, eyes still on me, strides over, and gracefully lowers herself to the ground.

“This is my lifeline—” I joke, scooting the binder toward her. She smiles then, another bashful smile as before, the one that sends a flutter to my stomach; my nerves are getting the best of me because there’s a certain level of vulnerability when you allow someone to search through your music, but I figured this was the only way to break the ice.

“Wow—” she starts, “I’ve never pictured you liking this much music…”

I study Marlowe as she traces a finger around a Radiohead disc and slides it from the pouch, “Can we listen to this while I look through the rest?” she asks.

I smile, then reach for the CD, and she flashes me a toothy grin because we both know this album is good. “In Rainbows is one of my favorite albums by them…” I say, standing to put the CD in my player.

“I would say it’s like neck and neck with OK Computer for me—”

“But we can’t forget Pablo Honey—” I say, cutting in.

“Oh, fuck—” she blurts, pressing her palm to her forehead, “Yes—I don’t know how I could forget that one…Creep is like a classic by now, right? Same with Fake Plastic Trees…but that’s on The Bends, which is also good…shit they’re just fucking amazing?”

“They really are…I watch so many covers on YouTube…” I add, sitting back down.

“I love watching covers…” she says fondly as if recalling a pleasant memory. I laugh because I thought I was the only one into covers, and then she has me smiling, taking in the dreamy look on her face.

“What…?” She asks shyly, and I shake my head, grinning down at the hole in my jeans, pulling at the threads.

“Nothing…” I breathe, too shy to look back up, and she reaches over and playfully nudges my knee.

“Tell me…” she laughs this time.

I fall against the side of my bed and peek up, “I guess I never knew you liked music this much…” I tell her, still smiling, my cheeks starting to ache.

“I mean…I’m sure there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” she answers, her voice low, and she shoots me a sly grin, eyes flicking to me from the case for a brief second, and then they’re back as she flips the page smiling to herself.

She looks so beautiful, sitting there, rubbing her full lips together to hide the constant smile that hasn’t left her face since I laid my binder on the ground. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be this close—just the two of us—so many details to take in, like the tiny freckle across the bridge of her nose or the way the light picks up on the soft, high lights in her hair; The carved stone elephant necklace she has worn forever, but I forgot about.

She peeks at me then, her eyes moving to my mouth, and I’m holding my breath again because I know she caught me looking at her, but I don’t look away, even though my cheeks are burning, and as her eyes explore my face again, I exhale slowly, swallowing hard.

She smirked then, her gaze gradually lowering down my chest, stealing my focus when she drew in her bottom lip, softly biting down, and it had my head racing with every thought that I should be steering clear of; she’s dangerous. Is she flirting with me, or is it all in my head?

All I know is if she keeps looking at me that way, I may have to readjust my jeans, and that would be too obvious because all I can think about is kissing those luscious-looking lips.

Her phone buzzes next to her on the ground, and she rips her gaze away just as her eyes hit the top of my jeans. Marlowe pulls in a loud breath through her nose, exhaling slowly, her chest decompressing as she reaches for the phone, the light casting a soft glow on her face. Then her shoulders slump, and I can only guess who it is.

“You can answer that if you’d like…” I offer.

“Nah—It’s just Trent…he’s being fucking weird today. He’s like checking in a lot, and he doesn’t normally do that…or I guess he doesn’t really have a reason to check in. He’s with his mom, so—why would I care,” She confides, her tone unbothered, like maybe the whole situation bores her, or maybe she wants it to seem that way because when he sends a text, she immediately picks up her phone and responds.

Then, out of nowhere, she says, “Do you smoke?” and tosses her phone to the ground. I think she means weed, but I’m not sure, and when I raise a brow, she’s quick to follow up.

“like weed…do you smoke weed?”

I laugh, “I don’t normally smoke weed, but soccer just ended. I’m not sure if the school still tests anymore since it was my last season.”

“Oh, that’s right…you guys had a good season. That’s a hell of a way to go out…” She says.

“I know…it made my family really proud—”

“and yourself…” she adds fast, smirking at me, then looks over at the soccer trophies lining my wall.

“Yeah…I guess,” I answer, feeling a bit embarrassed because I hate this kind of attention, “I would smoke, but I don’t have any.”

“I have a joint that I rolled this morning before school if you want to smoke,” she tells me, and she grins again, watching my face. I knew that I looked surprised because I could feel my eyebrows stretching upward, then I tried to relax my face.

“You’ve been carrying it around school?” I ask, curious as to how she’s able to get away with that when there are random drug searches all the time, drug dogs in and out of the school, every other day.

She shrugs, “I thought I was hanging out with Trent tonight…so I had it…I wasn’t sure if I was going back home…” she says, coming off a little timid—Maybe she thinks I’m judging her, but I’m more surprised to know that she stays the night at his house or at least that’s what I’m assuming, and this opens another door I haven’t thought about in a while—the two of them having sex. This piques my curiosity even more, and maybe I’m a weirdo for wondering, but what is their sex even like?

“Is that weird for you? She says, and I have to force myself from my thoughts, confused as to what she’s even asking.

“Is what weird…?”

“Trent?” she answers.

“Don’t know—” I lie, “Haven’t really thought about it.”

“You guys used to be like best friends, right?”

“Something like that…” I say, “But he’s kind of changed…”

There’s a beat of silence, and she drags her knees to her chest, circling her arms around them, “Well—if it means anything…I’ve never heard him talk shit about you,” she tells me, peering down at her feet.

“Honestly…there’s no bad blood or anything. Trent just chose a different path…that’s all.” I confess.

“Yeah…” is all she says, still gazing down at her feet, and I wonder what she’s thinking, what he’s told her about me, if what she said was true.

We both sat there for a minute, letting the murmur of the music feed the silence. Then Marlowe said, “He’s kind of changed since we started dating…” Her eyes flashed to mine abruptly, making my heart race, her expression unreadable.

“I guess we’ve all changed,” she finishes.

I nod in agreement, watching a glimmer of sadness streak her face, but she is good at staying neutral, and I wonder where she’s learned this, “So, should we smoke?” I ask

“Fuck yeah—” she says, shooting me a smile, and she stands to her feet swiftly, her excitement taking way as she walks over to her purse.

She pulls out a perfume bottle, untwists the lid, and out comes a rolled joint, “It might taste a little vanilla-ish…the bottle has been empty for months, but it’s the only way I’ve been able to disguise the scent.”

“And does it work?”

“For sure…last week, a drug dog walked right past me in class, and I swear I almost shit myself,” she laughs out.

I pull the throw blanket from my bed, laughing, “Fuck…I bet—” I express “Mind if we smoke outside?”

“Not at all, “ she answers, following me to my window. It’s honestly the best place to smoke. It has the best view of the neighborhood lake, lined by a walking trail. No one can ever see me, and it’s become the perfect spot to people-watch. I climb out first so that I can help if needed.

Marlowe’s cardigan snags on the ledge of the window, and she breathes out the word “fuck,” as she steps out onto the landing, turning to gather the material in her hand, “Damn…I just got this—”

“I’m sorry—you can have one of my jump—I mean sweaters if you’d like…” I offered, unsure of how to fix the situation, but it seemed right.

She smiles, “Were you going to say jumper?” her voice teasing.

“Maybe…what’s it to you?” I joke.

She shrugs her shoulders, her smile wide, “That’s so British—”

I poke my finger into her dimple, then, “Watch it, or I’ll change my mind…” I tell her, my voice lowering.

“You mean I’d be lucky enough to own a sweater from “The Harry Styles”—” she taunts, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m sure every girl at school has them cataloged…”

“Whatever—” I laugh, trying to bush off her comment, and though there might be a little truth to her statement, I would rather see her wearing one.

She sits before me, bringing her knees to her chest, and I wrap the blanket around her and sit down next to her, “Aren’t you going to be cold?” she asks.

“Here—do you want my cardigan?” She offers.

“No—No…I’m good. Soccer just ended. It definitely toughens you up during the winter season.”

She eyes me suspiciously as she wraps the blanket around her. “Do you want me to start it…or do you?” she asks.

“You go for it,” I answer.

She brings the joint to her mouth, fidgeting with the lighter until it clicks and ignites, the paper crackling the second the flame comes into contact with it. I watch Marlowe inhale slowly, the tip of the joint blazing orange, until she stops, dragging in a breath through her mouth, and then her pretty lips seal shut as she holds in the smoke and passes me the joint.

As soon as I bring it to my lips, her head drifts back, and she wraps the blanket around her body as she gradually exhales a large cloud of smoke, her eyes closing as the smoke billows in the wind, and I watch as the last puff leaves her body—and she’s so fucking sexy.

Then her tongue darts out to lick her lips, leaving a soft sheen of shine in the moonlight, and she smooths them together before she takes the joint from me again, eyes meeting mine, and she smirks over at me, her gaze shifting to my mouth as I exhale the smoke burning my lungs.

By the last hit of the joint, I was already high. I couldn’t remember the last time I had smoked or if I’d ever felt this high, but suddenly, I was so cold, and when I heard Marlowe’s voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts, my eyes flitted over to her face, taking in her smile and then I was smiling, laughing, when I heard her laughter.

“You’re high…” She says, reaching over to nudge my shoulder.

“You’re high…” I copy because her eyes are so fucking glossy, and I wonder how she would ever get away with being high at school because they’re a dead giveaway.

She laughs. “You’re cold, aren’t you?” she says, jerking her chin toward me as her eyes dart down my body. I hadn’t realized my arms were wrapped around my torso; god, it was so cold.

“Come—I’ll share the blanket with you…” she suggests, without hesitation, so I scoot closer, and she lifts her arm, opening up space next to her.

The warmth is instantaneous, and the only way I can seal on the heat on my side is to slide my arm around her waist, huddling closer to her body, and somehow, the blanket isn’t as big as I thought.

“Sorry—is that—Shit, I’m sorry…is that weird—” I ask, adjusting my arm.

“Oh—no—umm…no—you’re fine—”

“It’s just that—” I say, fidgeting some more.

“Yeah…your arm—here—is that better?” She asks, pulling my arm around her, and she enfolds my hand around the small of her ribs, resting her hand against mine when I flatten it against her body.

“I never realized how small this blanket was…” I joke, trying to ease any tension, but maybe there isn’t any, and I’m just too fucking high to tell.

Marlowe's eyes me then, a sheepish smile stretching across her face, “Harry…It’s fine.” she whispers, and her face is so close now, closer than it’s ever been, so close that all we would have to do was move our heads a few inches and our lips could touch.

“Okay…” I tell her, matching her tone, “But you’ll tell me if it wasn’t?”

Her thumb brushes over my hand, which is snug against her body now, and I focus on the rise and fall of her breath, feeling too high to keep my eyes open, “Do you feel good,” she asks.

“Perfect,” I smile as a comfortable silence drifts between us. Eventually, Marlowe rests her head on my shoulder, and I let my head fall against hers, smelling that familiar scent of vanilla. Then, like an idiot, I bury my nose into her hair, breathing her in. She laughs, snapping me out of my daze.

“Sorry…” I apologize, “Your hair smells so good…”

“Does it?”

“So good…” I confirm, and I wrap my arm around her tighter, then grips my wrist and nestles into my body more.

“I can’t believe you practically have a lake in your backyard…” she blurts.

I laugh because it is actually really random, “ I know…it’s man-made…”

She chuckles, shaking her head, “I wound assume so—”

“I mean…like this is a retirement community…”

Marlowe looks up at me, then, “I know… my grandma lives across your lake…”

I smile down at Marlowe, the moon catching the shine in her eyes, and I graze the pad of my thumb down the fabric of her sweater. She smiles then, her white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“You’re really pretty…” I breathe, letting the words tumble out without any thought. She glimpses up at me, her smile faltering for a second, and then she huffs a laugh.

“You’re really pretty,” she repeats jokingly.

“I mean it…” I tell her.

“Harry…”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re just high…”

“I’m high…but it doesn’t change the way I feel…”

“Yeah?” she asks faintly.

“Yes—I promise…”

She drops her head, nudging into my shoulder again, and I don’t say another word. Eventually, I notice her thumb moving back and forth on my arm, and I give her waist a light squeeze, “Marlowe…”

“Yeah?” She asks, continuing to caress my arm.

And I lift my head, “What are you thinking right now?” I ask, dying to know every thought running through her head, and she nuzzles her head against me, then lifts her face to meet mine.

“I’m thinking about you…” She says, her words are soft, floating out into the air, and it’s everything I’ve wanted to hear.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“You…” I divulge

“What about me?” she pries, a mischievous grin playing at her features.

“I don’t know…” I say, feeling self-conscious, like every tactic I would typically use to get the girl won’t work on her, and I know deep down that I just need to be honest.

“Like what would it be like to kiss you…” I spill, letting the words hang between us. Then her smile drops, and I think I’ve ruined it, and she sits up, eyes searching my face. When they land on my mouth, I feel it in my bones, like maybe she feels it too, and when she says, “I’ve been dying to kiss you for a long time,” I know that’s my green light and I drop the blanket, taking her face in my hand. When her eyes flit shut, I press my lips to her mouth. She lets out a long exhale, pushing warm air through her nose, and I breathe it in, savoring every second.

And when her mouth begins to move against mine, it’s slow and steady at first, but then a small whimper fills my mouth, and I’m hurrying the kiss as I slowly lean her back, bringing the blanket with me, creating our own little cocoon. I’m lying on my side, trying not to crush her, when I slide my arm under her neck, and she wraps her arms around me then, drawing me closer.

The kiss is better than I imagined, her lips perfectly soft, like every passing daydream I’ve ever had of her, and when I deepen the kiss, slowing us down, she tugs at my shirt, trying to pull me on top of her as my free hand moves under her sweater tracing the contour of her body, traveling down her waist, until my hand reaches her hip, trying to squeeze her flesh through her jeans.

The grip on my shirt tightens, this time pulling with need, and her hand slides under my shirt, gliding along the top of my jeans. She grabs a handful of the muscle along my side and gently pulls me toward her again. I mumble a throaty “Mmmmm” into her mouth, and I feel the vibration of my voice hum across her lips, adding to the sensation, and it feels so good. She must like it too because he hand is moving up my body now, her warm palm moving across my chest, and it feels like everything—Everything I could have ever wanted, and we could stay like this, but now I want more.

“Harry…” she sighs the whisper of my name so soft and sweet, jumbling my thoughts even further.

Then I must be losing my mind because the next thing I know, I’m climbing on top of her, gently nudging a leg between her thighs, creating space for me to press my body to hers, then Marlowe’s legs are opening, inviting me in, and she’s lifting her hips ever so slightly, grinding against my leg, and I softly press into, her hand moving down my body until she grabs a handful of my ass and pulls me closer, lining us up, and I groan the second she rubs against the bulge in my jeans.

I broke the kiss then because here I was at another crossroads. I want to do whatever Marlowe wanted, but if it’s more, I don’t want to do it here. I want her to have every opportunity to call whatever this is off. I don’t want to be another regret, the disappointment I’ve been to her in the past.

There are a million emotions coursing through me, and when I ask, “Do you want to go inside?” she grips my ass tighter, pulling me into her again, smirking up at me.

“I thought you would never ask….” She says, relaxing underneath me, and I kiss her one more time as she releases me, a soft laugh leaving her mouth. Call me young and dumb, but I genuinely don’t think I’ll ever feel this way for anyone else because when I look into those big brown eyes, it’s like I’ve looked into them a million times before, a reminiscent memory of a past we might have shared because her name alone, echos through me like she’s been there all along, and whatever this may be; has to mean something.

A/N: First Series of the New Year! Hope you like it. The tag list is open if you're interested! So thankful for all the love and support you guys give!!

My Tiny Materlist-> Here

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karlachismylife · 5 months ago

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Okay but imagine this: if task force 141 get thrown into Faerûn just as they are (i dunno, a portal opens up during a mission for neutralizing a huge dnd cultist-terrorist organization, whatever), with their ammunition, gear, guns etc. They quickly realize that the guns are kinda useless, because there is no way to supply them with bullets etc and then again, the fuck is your rifle gonna do against a literal fireball or a revived skeleton. But they can't just drop them, because who knows who's gonna find them and do what; but if they keep carrying those around, maybe they'll find a way to adapt their firearms to the new reality. And finally, they are still hoping to get back home... at least in the beginning.

And this is how Soap's sniper rifle becomes just a fancy toy. He still takes care of it, but there's no point in using it... until he catches Karlach's curious look while he's busying his hands (fella gotta fidget) with cleaning up this intimidating (at least it was) weapon. Karlach knows a good weapon when she sees one even if she has never seen anything like this before; she's both fought barehanded and seen how far mechanics can go in terms of ways to kill someone. And this polished beauty with a ton of little interesting details in construction is definitely a good weapon.

Soap is beaming when Karlach asks to show and explain how it works. He goes over the whole mechanism, gives her a three hours speech about different types of firearms, nearly starts a chemistry lesson on gunpowder and draws schemes with a stick on the ground to explain all the physics of a good shot. He wouldn't even notice if Karlach dozed off in the middle of this tirade. But Karlach surprises everyone, including herself, by staying extra attentive this whole time. Her head might hurt a little from trying to stuff all this information inside at once, but she senses Johnny's passion about the subject and it's contagious.

And then Soap asks her, giving her a heavy friendly slap on the shoulder: "Wanntae have a go?"

"Aye, soldier, don't have to ask me twice!" Karlach's already picked up a little of his accent and it earns her a cheeky smile from Soap, but what really makes him beam and jump to his feet immediately with his rifle in hand is that she's ecstatic to go and try shooting this thing.

They move a little away from camp so that they won't startle anyone there or draw unnecessary attention to the location and choose a target, a fallen tree trunk on one side of a large clearing. Soap gets into position and that pretty shiny thing in his arms goes boom, slicing a teeny tiny branch that was sticking out on the trunk clean off.

Karlach is hot with excitement, buzzing while Johnny explains her how to get into the right shooting position and what needs extra attenion when making a shot. He shoots one or two more times before her impatience gets to him and he scoots to the side, offering her a place behind the gun. Karlach copies his pose as best as she can, a good straight line and not much leaning forward. She is a soldier, a good one, she can follow instructions and handle the recoil, but what hurts her performance is... that same impatience. That beautiful SP-X 80 goes off in her hands almost immediately and although Karlach doesn't miss that poor tree entirely, the bullet lands nowhere near the spot Soap pointed out as target. Aww, dammit, soldier.

Soap doesn't seem upset in the slightest though (if anything, he is trying to keep his eyes off her ass, presented to him like a birthday cake). He just moves closer again and adjusts Karlach's grip on the handle, keeping his hands on her and using this lesson as a shameless excuse to get his paws all over the excited tiefling while he makes her calm down her breathing and watch that little cross in them complex optics.

"Close yer een, bonnie, take a couple breaths... aye, just like tha'. Is the reticle still on target? Good, now breathe out again 'n' when ye get that wee pause in yer body… shoot."

Maybe it's not entirely fair for him to ask Karlach to breathe normally when his calloused hand is right there on her back, touching her (touching her!) under the excuse of showing that lowest point in breathing when the trigger should be pulled. But they are not in a competition and good for her: despite following instructions to a t she can't seem to master it. She doesn't miss every single attempt, but her aim is clearly off. Her tail gives away her disappointment in shots landing slightly off target and coils around Johnny's ankle as he crouches next to Karlach laid out there in a proper prone position and watches her with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

When the last bullet they took with them shatters dead wood almost, almost right where she wanted, Karlach sighs and rolls on her side, quickly noticing how cozy her tail got with Soap's leg and untangling it as if nothing happened.

"Dinnae worrie, soldier, aim gets better wi' practice." Karlach earns another friendly slap on her shoulder and the faintest frown that hid in her brows immediately goes away, replaced by a toothy grin.

"Practice, eh, mate?" She repeats, and Johnny already knows she's got something on her mind. "Wanna go throw axes then?"

#she kicks his ass in the axe department #good thing soap didn't give her a machine gun #karlach plus firearms means trouble #don't melt the rifle please #also forgive me for bad scottish accent writing #i mean no offense and will take critisism #karlach x soap #karlach #bg3 karlach #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #call of duty #cod #headcanon #oneshot #rarepair

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siremasterlawrence · 8 months ago

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The Lost Family - The De-evolution Of Man

Harry Miles is a total mess breaking in to my home like I don’t know what at midnight the next morning but he comes tumbling no more barreling through the glass door to my home. I am hoppy from my bed picking up my pat as I race down staircase to the main floor to see him drunk as ever stumbling around like a damn fool but I catch him as he leans on me and I walk him back.

I lay his ass on to the chair leaving him for a few seconds to get some rope to tie him down upon my return and begin to strap him fine wrapping his body with the rope wound under my control. I think to myself walking to my two beautiful former glass doors locking them up, drop the blind to the floor in exhilaration for the event, and flip the lights on as it goes dark then the lights are blinking on and off.

I look at him in that light sweater jacket and jeans and sneakers looking quite nice all I want to do is take him as mine simple just a mind wipe and began undressing him till he is lift solely in his underwear. Standing in front of him I giggle waving my hand in his face as he is frozen in time awaiting all the changes I have planned and show him a shiny white crystal ball flipping it in to the air.

“Beginning now I want you to let your eyes go slowly letting your graze crawl upward in to the ceiling looking at that amazing shiny star floating in the sky so circular in shape to your amazement. It is spectacularly a stunningly glorious object, a crystal ball if I am not wrong because you can’t help but to melt in to it falling deeper in to its trap you are lost.” I spoke to him.

“The crystal ball starts brim with light before it glows up shining perfectly through the hall in to the room everything fades from both of our existences removing you for this entire environment. Watch Mr. as you lose Harry’s consciousness disappearing from reality in to the lower tracks of the mind he lands in the subconscious walking on to an elevator to his own doom.” I continue.

“Harry please descend further don’t look at him because I am your ruler above all things my dear. it is time you let go of the manly utter bullshit, the drama because you are a man but you are a boi. The time warps by as the floor below you rips apart free falling in to abyss as a clock stands by you rolling back in time as your age reverses to a young adult.” I lead him to his end.

“Oh Hey daddy!”

“How are you?”

“Great!”

“Wonderful! Let me untie you “

“Daddy?”

“Can we speak?”

“Sober up first “

“Ok daddy”

“Give me some time “

“Take your time”

“Listen to me”

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are my daddy”

“Which one?”

“My only one”

“Silly”

“I love you daddy”

“Me too”

“What did you want to speak about ?”

“Where were you ?”

“I’ve been here”

“All along “

“I have been so lost”

“We both know that”

“You been traversing through town”

“Drunk”

“Hurt”

“Cold”

“Sad”

“Embrace me “

“I am your son”

“All I see is you”

“You can help so many”

“One day at a time”

“I need to reset you”

“I want to be happy”

Harry is a good boi over the weeks since I have wiped him clean because he has been at my side every day except for his job and when I am away from him to his dismay and am bit of ire. I bought him a men’s necklace with a special silver project telling him he has learnt his lesson so well at the moment and he needs to be rewarded to show him he is so amazing.

While he is at work one day I decide to throw him a birthday party calling all of his friends to the house that night but I need to get him out of the house for a few hours and work is necessary evil for him. As he drives off I am enjoying my victory over him making more plans for the future because he is then start of everything to be and eventually his down full will be my greatest feat.

“You are being so damn unfair dad” he yells frustratingly.

“Go to work now”

“Fine!”

“Will you be here later?”

“Of course but work hard”

“Alright!”

“Come here”

“Stop complaining “

“Sorry! I am afraid”

“Of what?”

“Losing you “

“That will never happen”

“Kneel and wrap your arms on my waist “

“Yes dad”

“Focus on my face”

“You are safe with me”

“You love when I rub you “

“Get up and go to your job”

The end

#jon bernthal #adult to kid #mind alteration #mind warp #mind break #mind corruption #mind control #reprogramming #hypnosis #mind conditioning #gay mind control #mindfuck #hypno slave #The Lost Family

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bit-odd-innit · 2 years ago

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Fic: Somewhere That’s Green

[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]

It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”)

He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)

He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide.

Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares. But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.

The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”

“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”

“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”

“A what?”)

Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.”

“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”

“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”)

Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”

“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”

“That’s the only way I could have said it.”)

(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)

 Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.) (He’s right.)

It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—

Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”

Wild.

It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)

He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination.

“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.

“Do you like games?” She asks.

He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”

The dam breaks.

“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”

“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”

The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.

Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.

“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”

Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you.

But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”

Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him. Pretty good life.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fanfic

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