#and barry's nose is a thing of beauty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldenroutledge · 1 month ago

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nose dive

pairing: john b. routledge x kook!fem!reader

word count: 3.0k

summary: in which john b is running from trouble and comes knocking at your door, rekindling a forgotten spark between you

warning(s): canon events, blood, being chased, slowburn ?, fluff

john b. routledge masterlist

Figure 8. Also known as uncharted territory for John Booker Routledge, whose reputation only worsened with time. Years ago, Big John’s disappearance– then surprise reappearance– seemed to set off John B’s domino effect of bad luck. Being caught up in the gun incident at the break and consequently being fired by Ward Cameron, being involved in a dispute with Barry, formerly on trial for killing the town’s sheriff in cold blood… not the cleanest track record in the eyes of the people he wanted nothing more than to get away from.

Only a few people might’ve topped that list. The mercenaries were lurking around the island like hungry crocs waiting in water, keeping a close eye on John B’s friend group and their treasure hunting pursuits. The one guy in particular, tall and built with brown hair and a dark look he couldn’t shake, had all the pogues walking on eggshells and looking over their shoulders constantly.

Right now, John B wishes he could spare a second to look over his shoulder, as he sprints down the road as fast as his feet will take him. Dirt turns into gravel before it turns into a paved road with beautiful homes on either side of them. He pants, painfully so, a deep scrape on his abdomen turning an angry red from a fence he just had to climb over. He doesn’t remember accidentally cutting himself on it, but the dampness though his shirt tells a different story.

The scenery around him begins to change the further he goes, letting him know that he’s not on the Cut anymore. Just when he wants to stop, having nowhere else to go, he recognizes the familiar knockout rose bushes near the curb of the driveway ahead. Your driveway.

Maybe it wasn’t the best scenario, but this was his only option at the moment. You two were acquainted, meeting last spring when he did some jobs for your family, preparing the pool for summer and what not. The two of you hit it off surprisingly, but John B stopped coming around as quickly as he started. It was slightly disappointing for you, but as you saw it, he probably wasn’t interested in you anyway. If anything, he flirted with you for the tips.

Though there was never an official hello or goodbye between you two. You could either slam the door in his face or not answer at all, maybe you weren’t even home. It was worth a shot in any case.

John B can’t hear footsteps chasing after him anymore, he’s pretty sure he’s lost the guy. But making the assumption that he’s safe is a luxury he can’t afford. With a fisted hand he knocks on the wooden door and rings the doorbell once for good measure.

You swore you were hearing things until the doorbell sounded, leaving you to sigh and place your bookmark between the pages that you just barely started reading. With no patience to check who was behind the door or bother to yell out “Who is it?”, you swung it open.

“John B? What are you doing here?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as your eyes land on him, leaning up against your home on an extended arm as he pants to catch his breath. To say this was the last person you expected to see on a random Tuesday afternoon would be an understatement.

“Do you mind if I come in? Please?” He answers breathlessly, golden brown eyes meeting yours with a pleading look.

“Sure, come in.” You open the door wider for him to enter, examining his disheveled appearance. Patches of dirt, grass, and even some blood stains covered his loosened button up, making you wonder what on Earth could have led him to your front doorstep. “Are you… okay?”

John B doesn’t waste time, entering your home and plopping down on the leather sofa with a sigh, running a hand over his face and then through his hair. You were close behind, sitting beside him as you held an expression and feeling of concern. “I could be better.” John B quips, monotone as ever. And by the looks of it, you believe him.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A Bandaid?” You ramble, his eyes shooting down to his injury once you mention the latter.

“Shit.” John B mumbles to himself, blood now visibly seeping through the thin material of his shirt. “I didn’t realize… I can um- would you mind if I used your bathroom to clean up?”

“No, no. Stay here.” You assure him, fingers grazing over his shoulder to keep him from standing up, afraid that if he does, you’ll have a harder time helping him if he passes out. “I’ll help you.”

You scurry to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water, twisting open the cap and handing it to him quickly. He takes several gulps like he just ran a marathon, not even bothering to put on the usual manners that are standard here on Figure 8.

“Thank you.” John B acknowledges, his voice less hoarse now that he’s rehydrated.

“Sure.” You respond with a soft smile, standing up and holding your hand out for him to take. “Come with me. We need to get that wound taken care of.”

“Alright.” John B agrees, but then again, he probably would’ve agreed to just about anything right now. His head’s spinning and it doesn’t seem to be slowing down even though his body has.

You lead him to the guest bedroom and gesture for him to sit on the rectangular ottoman at the end of the bed. “One second.” You tell him, before going to retrieve some first aid supplies from the en-suite.

John B looks around at the tastefully decorated room, feeling out of place as everything looks like it’s straight off the cover of an interior design magazine. He doesn’t remember your house being so nice, but then again most of his time working here was spent outside.

Except for when you would purposely, unbeknownst to him, fix lunch around the time he was present, offering him to come inside and eat with you. Just because it was convenient of course, you’d hate to let the food go to waste. He could never resist a good meal anyway.

Your house appeared spotless enough to eat off of any given surface, he’s seen JJ eat off dirtier things. And here he was, feeling like he just rolled around in a pigpen, while resting on a plush couch in your gorgeous home.

“Can you unbutton your shirt for me?”

“If you insist.” He chuckles, earning a look from you. Your eyes widen upon seeing his injury close up. This is the first time John B had the time to examine it, too. He cringes at the sight as it’s a lot worse than he expected. Adrenaline will do that to a person.

“My God, what did you do?”

“How much time do we have? You want the short or the long version?” John B prompts.

“I want the truth, John B. What happened to you?” Your eyes soften with sympathy as they scan his appearance.

He sighs. “Do you remember when I first mentioned my little treasure hunting gig with my friends?” You give him a nod. “Well, we’re not the only ones after it, obviously. There’s another guy and he’s really after us. Dodged so many run-ins with him that he started chasing my ass in the street. I hopped a fence, probably lost him around that point and now I’m here.”

You try your best to make sure your expression doesn’t come off as judgemental to avoid being rude, until your heart softens when he speaks up again. “I didn’t know where else to go. But I thought I’d be safe here.”

“You are safe here.” You smile. “Don’t even worry about it.”

He nods, lips pursing together. “Yeah, I’ll try not to until I have to go outside again.”

You begin dabbing at his injury with a damp washcloth, cleaning up the excess area to find the root. “Whatever you do, try not to die.”

“Trying.” John B murmurs, hissing as the cloth meets the cut on his abdomen. “Maybe it’s time to take a vacation though. We’ve risked a lot.”

You giggle at his contemplations, knowing he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of his mouth. “Just don’t get caught. First thing you should do with your treasure money is hire a full security detail.”

“Ehh, there’s no fun in that. I’d rather fight ‘em myself.”

“Of course you would, John B.” You smirk, knowing that once you sterilize his open wound, that tough guy act will vanish.

“Holy sh-!” He shouts, clasping a hand to his mouth, as he bellows in pain. “So, you weren’t even gonna warn me? Just rub salt on it, why don’t you?”

“Oh relax, smartass. It’s better not to warn you.” You shrug, continuing your process despite his uncomfortable squirming and shifting. “The pain’s over before you know it so it’s not anything worth warning you about.”

“Uhm, speak for yourself.” He retorts, exaggeration clear in his tone. “Warn me next time, maybe?”

“Why? So you can be dramatic about it in the same amount of time it could’ve been over and done with? Didn’t know you were such a baby, John B. You seemed pretty tough when you were running from your adversary 30 minutes ago.” He remains silent, figuring that you must know best. It would only take the lightest pressure from the cloth to set his cut on fire again. Talking back wasn’t worth it.

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” You mutter in victory, gathering the used products and returning them to their original place, tossing the dirty materials. “Would you like to take a shower? I’m sure we have some spare clothes you could wear while I throw yours in the wash. I’d hate for that blood to stain your shirt permanently, it looks good on you.”

He smiles softly at your subtle compliment. “Thanks. But I don’t want to overstay my welcome, you’ve helped me more than enough.”

“So you’ll just drop this off at the dry cleaners on your way home?” You implore rhetorically, asking a question you both know the answer to. “You might as well take advantage of my kindness, John B. I don’t mind, y’know. It’s actually nice to have some company.”

“Alright, if you insist. I’m glad I could keep you company.” He trails off, puzzled at how cleaning him up was your idea of good company. “You think you can get the blood stain out?”

A chuckle escapes your lips unexpectedly at his question. “I can get blood out of pretty much anything.”

“Oh.” John B realizes, a rosy color taking over his cheeks. “Right. That might come in handy again someday.”

“As long as it’s not a murder cleanup, I’m happy to help. By the way, towels and everything should be in the cabinet.” You inform him from the doorframe of the bathroom, both of you sharing quick smiles and nods before you shut the door and leave with his stained button-up tee.

John B took longer than expected in the shower, his body going numb under the feeling of the warm water. It was refreshing to have a good shower in the midst of all the chaos in his life. Protected from all of it within these shiny porcelain tiles and the comfort of your home. When he comes out, he can’t help but smile at the fresh set of clothes laid out on the bed, neatly folded in a pile.

He saunters out of the guest bedroom, retracing his steps and following the scent of food into the kitchen. It was hard to remember his way around this place.

“Did you find everything okay?”

“Yeah, I did. Nice home, by the way. I always remembered it from the few jobs I did here. Not that I’ve been inside many of the houses over here but… you know.”

“Thanks. Have my parents' careers to thank for that.” You jest. “They’re never home to enjoy any of it, though. It’s usually just me around here.”

“You’re lucky I’m not scoping out potential burglary spots.” John B cautions. “You probably shouldn’t announce that. There’s some crazy people out there. Believe me.”

“Like you?” You chide with a sarcastic look, earning an eye roll out from him. You offer him the serving spoon to dish his food after you’ve dished some for yourself. “Thanks dad, but I think I’m fine.”

“Just telling you to be safe, Y/n.” John B defends himself, his hands up in surrender. “Don’t wanna see anything bad happen to you.”

“What happened to the whole kooks vs pogues thing? With the way some of these people have treated you, I’d say you deserve to be the one orchestrating robberies.”

“Got bigger fish to fry these days.” He shrugs, picking up some of his food on his fork. “And thanks for the food. Best meal I’ve had maybe ever.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just saying, that kind of self control is amazing. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t have as much of it as you might think.” He argues. “Standing next to JJ, maybe. Standing next to Pope? Not so much.”

“And you’re humble too? No wonder the kooks hate your guts.”

“You know, you’re not so bad either. I can’t imagine what they’d do to you if they knew how generous you’ve been to me.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” You shrug. “The less I can be like them, the better.”

–

You both finish eating in a comfortable silence, the sun setting before you have the chance to double check the time.

“So, I’m assuming you’re spending the night…?”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I’m positive, John B. If I minded, I would’ve kicked you out hours ago.”

He stands beside you at the kitchen sink, helping you wash the dishes. It had been ages since he’d even touched a glass dish, let alone eaten off of one.

“If you insist, Y/n. How can I pass that up?”

You suppress a laugh as he nudges your side. “You can’t. You’re gonna get a good night’s sleep if I have anything to do with it. After the day you’ve had, I’m assuming you could use some sleep. You look tired.”

He cocks an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest to feign offense. “Do I, now?”

“Mhm.” You hum sleepily in response to his query.

“You look a little tired yourself, Y/n.” He observes jokingly. “But I guess that might have something to do with me. Sorry about dropping by so unexpectedly.”

“Don’t be. I like having someone around, even if you are being chased down by a treasure hunting psycho. You’re actually not that bad.”

“Uh, oh. Hallucinating already? Sounds like it’s time for bed.”

All of a sudden, he sweeps you off of your feet and carries you bridal style into the guest bedroom. You let out a shriek as soon as your heels leave the floor, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you hold on for dear life.

He gently places you on the neat duvet, gaining a sigh of relief from you. Your hand takes its sweet time to trail down his arm, your fingers grazing over his muscles. A lovesick smile pulls at your lips as you stare into John B’s eyes, receiving the same expression back while he looks into yours.

“I missed seeing you for so long, Y/n.” He admits, just barely above a whisper. “I wish I had stayed around longer. I always tried to get more jobs here so I could see you.”

“Really?”

“Of course I did. Do you think pool water chemistry needs to be checked twice a week?” He compliments with a smile that makes you feel weak, sitting down beside you. The tips of your ears warm at his words.

“Good to know.” You ponder aloud. “I totally didn’t bother my dad to keep hiring you because I liked you, either. So I hope you don’t think that.”

He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips turn up. “Ah, okay. Then I totally didn’t white lie to your parents about the pool checks because I liked you, either.”

You avoid his eyes, instead paying attention to the polish on your fingernails as you change the topic off of whatever’s going on between the two of you. “Is there anything else I can do for you, John B?”

“Kiss me and maybe I’ll feel better? I’m sure Ibuprofen works fine too, though.”

You really had to be delirious or something, as you obliged his request and kissed him. It was clear he didn’t expect it, but didn’t waste time relaxing into your touch. He places a hand to your cheek and deepens the kiss.

You both have matching drowsy smiles when you pull away. “Feel better?”

He sighs contentedly, head falling back on the pillow next to you. “I’m on my way.”

A yawn threatens to escape from you, so you take your last moments of consciousness to not let the moment pass. “If you ever need a hideout again someday, I’m your girl.”

He turns toward you, heart fluttering at your pretty face under the warm lights from the glow of the lamps on the nightstand. He couldn’t help but admire you.

“My girl.” He repeats to you in a mutter, thumb caressing your cheek. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Leaning forward just as the words left his mouth, you press your lips to his once again and kiss him with all that you could muster at the semi-late hour. Exhaustion makes for bravery you wouldn’t have otherwise. This time, John B smiles into the kiss.

“Good.” You murmur, thumb brushing over his lips once you pull away. “‘Cause I do, too.”

💌: this is meant to be a one shot so there’s no plans for another part, but i hope someone out there enjoyed. reblogs are very much appreciated :) thanks for reading!

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losing-it-lately · 6 months ago

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I''ll give you a song rec and character! I've had "Please, Please, Please" by Sabrina Carpenter in my head for forever and it's basically about two people from different social circles and loving someone who doesn't always make good decisions, so I can really see an Eddie x Reader based on that!

Please Please Please!

wc: 0.6k

heist!eddie munson x reader

angst? more like a whump/fun heist au, but this is very inspired by the mv being about sabrina carpenter not wanting barry keoghan to go to jail

Your friends all have normal boyfriends- normal, law abiding boyfriends. And it's sweet having an intelligent and beautiful man, one who's both cunning and strategic, but kind and empathetic. Eddie is so many wonderful things, but legal isn't one of them.

You met him at the Louvre, a beautiful month-long trip to Paris that ended with finding the man of your dreams. And it was perfect, especially when he invited you to a quick trip to Rome, all expenses paid. Yes, you had just met the man, but you clicked- you had never clicked with anyone before.

“What good timing,” you remarked in the private jet to Italy, “the Louvre just had a set of expensive artifacts stolen. And the Cupid and Psyche statue!”

Of course he took it, it was the statue where you both met! He’s a man of business and love, Eddie can't help himself. And he nearly cries when a few months after your trips, you find the statue when exploring the lovely home you share. “Oh my God. This is why you don't trust men who you’ve only known for a month.” His eyes glaze over as he begins to ramble about it being a replica and him being an “engineer” like he told you.

You calm him down and he swears to tell you the truth, of every heist, of every plan, of every scam. And it's fine, until the first heist that you know is a heist. It was meant to be easy, you would get constant updates from Dustin while you would spend time with your friends at a bar downtown. A lovely alibi. And it was fine, until the updates paused and all of your friends’ questions circled back to your “mysterious European dreamboat”.

It’s difficult to balance “he’s not like that” with humble brags of the jewellery he buys you and quick lies about his job.

It's hours later than expected and you're tensed, the nerves in your stomach are jumbled, and then Eddie jogs in. He’s loud and hyper and the adrenaline is taking over, and suddenly another fear washes over you: the post heist high.

You motion for him to follow you before he can even get a word in with any of your friends. Immediately, in the dingy bar bathroom, he has you pushed up against the mirror, his nose pressed into the junction of your neck, smelling the bitter alcohols and sweet perfumes of the night (and the sweat from dancing, but he would never admit to enjoying it). His lips began pressing into your jaw, the adrenaline threatening to pass onto you, but you resist and push him off. A small pout forms on his lips. “My friends are outside!” You hastily whisper, “We can't do this here, and worse, you cannot give away that you’re a criminal! Please, don't do this to me, Eddie.”

His hands come to your jaw, rubbing and cradling, “I promise. I’ll keep my cool, baby.” Pent up tears threaten to release after all the stress of the night. “Shhhh,” he coos, “I’ll be so cool, don't ruin your makeup over me, pretty girl.”

“You scared me so much Eddie.” You hold onto his hands and soothe yourself. If your friends see tear streaks, they won't assume good and pure things. He stretches his arms around you, he's hot like a furnace from the running, but he's calm somehow, it's like he's calming for you.

You leave the bathroom and join your friends, before ditching early to eat a deserved diner dinner- something greasy and American to replenish the soul. Eddie holds your hand the entire drive there, he draws circles onto your knuckles and laughs as you recount stories of your friends. Next time, his introduction will be better, a brunch or something nice and grown up. But now, he just wants to think about you and your night together, nothing else.

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bluejaysandblackbats · 6 months ago

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It's That Time Again!!! (1/5)

Through All of Time and Space: Space alien, Thad Thawne, falls to Earth and takes on the form of Bart Allen, making minor changes according to what he saw in orbit... Tim Drake mistakes him for an angel. (yj98/flashfam; TimThad also TimBart; space alien AU)

A Love For All Seasons: Jay Garrick catalogs the first five years of Judy's life. (flashfam/jsa; JayJoan; no powers AU)

magic yellow lightning: AU where Barry keeps Bart while he recovers from a near-death experience. Bart is four years old, and Barry suggests it'd be best for Bart to stay with him on his vacation. (flashfam; BarryIris; no powers AU)

in between seconds: Don goes to the past to speak with his son, knowing his next mission might be his last. They speak to each other between seconds. (flashfam; MeloniDon; canon divergent AU)

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully Right: Bart accidentally sends two similar text messages to Conner and Preston. (flashfam/yj98; KonBart and PrestonBart)

A Joyful Rebellion: AU where Meloni Thawne recalls her time with Digger Harkness. (flashfam/flash rogues; DiggerMeloni)

Nothing But Time: Tim and Thad are roommates and freshman year classmates at Brentwood Academy. Both tightly wound boys struggle to overcome their differences to pass the class's partner assignment. (yj98/batfam/flashfam; TimThad; boarding school AU/no capes AU)

✨Snippets of the fics under the cut to help you guys decide✨

Through All of Time and Space:

The subject’s name is Tim. Bipedal human creature. Non-childbearing. Blue eyes, dark hair, and fewer organs than documented in human literature. I believe something in him is broken. I wonder if he’ll be useful to me in the future despite this. For now, he’s chosen to keep me a secret. I believe this is for his benefit. He doubts his mental faculties despite my original subject, Bart’s declaration of his intelligence. I needed his assistance to assimilate into Earth's culture.

Tim’s expressions change when he looks at me. His heartbeat slows and his eyes waver as he studies my form. He fails to understand that Bart is my blueprint for appearance and nothing more. I tried to explain it but the explanations only upset him. Human emotion feels complicated. I took the form of someone he had a fondness for, but he looks at me with pain in his eyes and a heaviness in his heart. I apologize to him for it, and he smiles. I don’t understand him. But I want to.

A Love For All Seasons:

Day One: As she lay on my chest, I remembered touching her little head. It was the size of my palm. My heart skipped a beat and found the rhythm of hers. I glanced at Joan as she slept peacefully in her hospital bed, wondering how she could remain so calm. I felt her hands and feet, counting her fingers and toes as tears streamed down my cheeks. How could I ever sleep again? How could I ever relax, knowing her tiny life was in my hands? Her little head that couldn’t fill up my entire palm? Her tiny fragile body with her perfect little face—. She had a full head of hair. It was the last thing I noticed. I spent so much time worrying that I didn’t notice my daughter’s full head of beautiful brown hair. I didn’t notice my eyes and nose and mouth translated onto her little face. It all sank in at that moment. I would love her forever.

magic yellow lightning:

I put his red rubber rain boots on as he sat with his hands stretched out. “Grandpa? Am I magic now?” Bart questioned.

“Huh?” I asked in reply.

“I got shocked-ed by lightning. Am I magic now?” Bart asked. I smiled as I held his hand.

There was no harm in letting him see the accident in a fun light. He survived and that was all that mattered. “Yup… And now that we’ve both been struck by lightning, I can tell you all my magic secrets. You can help me make my potions,” I answered. Bart smiled with his eyes shut. “You can open your eyes. If you keep them closed, we won’t be able to tell if you’ve gotten your sight back.”

“It’s not bad to open them?” Bart questioned. I kneeled beside him, rubbing a smudge on his cheek with my finger.

“No, it’s not bad. It’s helpful. You’ll start to see lights again, then shapes, and your sight should come back fully in a few days. It happened to me, too. You’re so brave, Bart. I was really scared when it happened to me, but I’m so proud of you. You’ve been such a big boy,” I commended him. He reached up for me to carry him, and I felt his body go limp in my arms.

“Not seeing makes me sleepy, Grandpa,” Bart mumbled. I rubbed his back, wondering if I upset him. “How am I gonna watch SpongeBob?” I held back a laugh.

in between seconds:

Time is a lot like origami paper to me. If I use the speed force like fingers, I can fold a straight line into a three-dimensional object. And in those folds are points in time. When Bart was born, I could feel all the creases in time where he touched. So, I searched for a crease in time where he would understand. I kissed my Bart goodbye and ventured through the folds of time until I saw an opening. A pocket in time where he and I could talk. I waited for him to feel my presence in his time. Bart.

I felt him before I recognized his face. The speed force carries unique energy for all of us. Dawn felt like cool air like the inside of a tornado. Wally felt like the rumble in a thunderstorm. Bart’s energy felt like rippling rays of sunlight, almost like water. Uncontrolled but uniform.

He met me in a space between milliseconds. “You’re not supposed to be here,” Bart stated. It wasn’t accusatory. It was an observation. My breath caught, and I wanted to cry, but I had an urgency in me that wouldn’t allow it. Not yet. I touched his face, and he gasped.

“Dad?” Bart questioned as tears streamed down his cheeks. He knew me by energy alone. I nodded.

“Hi, Bubs… We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Don’t we?” I asked, still holding back my tears as I held his face in my hands. I was pure energy, but he was flesh and blood. My flesh and blood.

Comfortably Wrong, Painfully RIght:

“Okay… Let me get this right: You have a crush on Kon. You have a crush on Preston. You couldn’t decide which one you wanted to ask out, and you were so baked you sent them the same question. Am I getting this?” Cassie questioned.

Bart nodded. “Oh, you’re fucked. Like this is better than TV,” Cassie laughed.

“You’re not helping,” Bart half-shouted before lowering his voice, “They’re both coming tonight. I can’t cancel on Preston because he went through a lot to come here, and—.”

“Cancel on Conner,” Cassie interrupted.

“I can’t. How do I tell him I take it back?” Bart replied. Cassie groaned. “Exactly!”

A Joyful Rebellion:

I sat there next to him, hiding in a brand-new HDPE pipe for my father’s new construction project. He pushed his feet out, attempting to roll us, and I laughed. “Hey, amnesia boy… Do you wanna do something bad?” I questioned. He grinned, moving to take off his jacket and shirt while I took a lighter out of my pocket. His eyes widened, and he backed away.

“Kinky… But I prefer my pleasure without pain,” he chuckled. I shook my head and climbed over his lap and out of the tube. He followed me, and I reached down into his pocket for his flask.

“Wanna see something cool?” I questioned. He bounced his head from side-to-side, and I walked toward the wooden structure of the building and took a swig of his ancient alcohol before spitting and lighting a fire. He hooked an arm around my stomach and pulled me away from the blaze as he laughed.

He rocked as he walked me back and away with two strong arms wrapped around me. “Good on ya! Fuck that building,” he smiled into my neck. He understood me. Even if it was on a base level, he could accept my actions without any explanation. He didn’t care who my father was. All that mattered was me and what I wanted, and I wanted him.

“It’s my dad’s,” I replied. He froze, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Fuck him,” he whispered. And the weight fell off of me. “Yeah, fuck him. What does he matter? Whatever he did to make you feel this way… Fuck him.”

Nothing But Time:

Thad sighed as he sprayed the room with an air freshener and opened the window. “God,” Thad groaned as he stifled a gag. He asked for a new roommate, but he didn’t expect someone like that. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand as he looked around in horror at the clothes strewn across the beds and floor. Open soda cans lined the nightstand and dressers. A used bandaid rested on the dresser. He stepped outside, waiting for his new roommate to arrive, growing more and more agitated as time progressed.

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itsthestutterforme · 1 year ago

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A Night in Charlotte 2/3 (Rafe Cameron x black!reader)

Summary: After that night in Charlotte, you start to adjust to life in OBX

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, this will be a three part series, requests are open for OBX, Rafe being an absolute simp for reader, implied sex

The thought of you had been rattling around in Rafe’s head since he left Charlotte. The morning after, he found himself admiring your sleeping form. He’d never met anyone who slept so pretty. And what kind of man would he be if he didn’t admire such beauty by giving you some morning head.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself when you looked down to meet his deep gaze, his perfect lips suctioning your clit until your back was arching off the bed. He was all over you and you loved every second of it. Loved it a little too much. You had to remind yourself that it was just sex and you would probably never see him again.

You waited until he hopped into the shower to leave as quietly as possible. You grabbed some of the included breakfast his hotel offered before calling a taxi to bring you back to the hotel room.

Later that day Bobby picked you up, apologizing to you nearly to entire ride back to OBX. You tugged at the itchiness of the turtleneck you wore to cover Rafe’s hickeys he littered your neck and chest with. Bobby gave you the rundown about who to avoid and how to stay out of trouble.

You followed his advice for the most part and somehow to managed to land a job as bookkeeper for a local bait and tackle shop that Bobby is business partners with. You liked the job. It didn’t take a lot of brain power and you got paid on the higher end for just having experience. The only bad part about it was having the time to think back on your time with Rafe.

It was harder during the first two weeks but soon your time with Rafe faded into the past. Now it’s a month and you’ve moved on to bigger, better things. There was an annual drive in theater showing The Outsiders. One of your coworkers, Derek, invited you out on a date and you said yes, why not.

Little did you know what was going to happen at the drive in. Derek laid out a picnic blanket in the back of his truck, offering his jacket to you the first few minutes of the movie. You were about half way in when you had to use the bathroom. He asked if you wanted him to keep you company but you convinced him that you would be fine.

You walked towards the portapotties near the food counter when you heard a series of grunts. Following the sound of pained grunts and solid blows, you saw a familiar fro belonging to Pope. He was being held down by a shorter man with black buzzed hair while another man fought two boys you recognized were Pope’s friends, John B and JJ. “The cross belongs to me,” Pope says weakly.

“You’re too little too late, young blood. It’s already melted down to tiny bits.” The man taunts. Picking up the thickest branch you could find, you hit the man holding Pope, directly at the base of his head. The man let Pope go so he could turn around and you sent a solid punch to his face before he had the chance to fully turn around. “Shit! Rafe, get that bitch!” The man starts.

You froze at the mention of his name. Rafe looked to you and immediately let go of his hold on John B. Pope looked at you with wide eyes. “Get behind me. All of you,” you tell them, thankful that they listened. “What..” Rafe starts. “I can handle this. Go get to safety.” You tell Pope.

“I’m not leaving you with them. They’re crazy,” he defies. “I’ll meet you guys at the house… Now, Pope. Let the adults handle this.” They hesitantly leave and disappear into the woods. “Bad idea. Who else is going to defend you, huh?” Barry says, wiping away the blood from his nose.

“Me,” Rafe says from behind him, slowly walking towards you. “The fuck you mean ‘you’? She busted my nose, bro.” “Just leave, man. Go get that checked out.” “What the fuck just happened?” Rafe’s eyes never left yours except to look at the rest of you.

You did something different with your hair. Instead of the box braids he initially saw you with, you wore short passion twists that ended about shoulder length. You dyed your hair light brown and he was loving every second of it. You weren’t the only one who made changes. Rafe had a buzz cut like his partner in crime.

“I’ll explain everything later. Just go, Barry.” He commanded and Barry mumbled something under his breath before walking to his dirt bike. “What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” Rafe asks once the two of you were alone. “I could ask you the same thing,” you answer, crossing your arms. “I was born and raised here,” “As of now, I live here.”

“You’ve been here the whole time since Charlotte?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. “Yes, I have.” “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you around here.” “I’ve been busy with work,” you explained shortly. You must admit, he was asking you tons of questions like he’s your boyfriend or something. “Hm. Where have you been working?” He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“None of your business. It’s time for me to start asking the questions now. What are you doing fighting with sixteen year old boys?” “They don’t know how to mind they’re own fucking business.” “Watch it,” you warn. “Sorry, momma bear.” He taunts with his hands up in surrender. “Is all of this fighting about a cross? What cross was he talking about? I never took you as the Christian type.” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Listen sweetheart, the less you know, the better. I mean it. I just got back from being held hostage because of this shit. It’s best if you stay out of it.” Rafe suggests. “I can’t stay out of it if my cousin can get hurt.” “Loyalty. Makes you ten times better.” He flirts, closing the gap between you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Heyward?” “I’m actually a Tanny. And the last I checked, there wasn’t much talking,” You correct, holding his gaze.

His eyes fell to your lips, licking his own in restraint so he wouldn’t kiss you. Even though he desperately wanted to. He noticed a strong scent the longer he was close to you. His face twisted when he smelled another man’s cologne on you. “You’re on a date?”

“I was. Yeah.” He remained silent for a moment, examining your delicate features. The two of you got lost in the moment, listening to the audio of Outsiders and the cicadas screeching from the woods, your breaths falling into sync. “Let me take you home.” He offers in a low voice, twirling a twist between his fingers.

Before you could formulate a response, Derek calls your name. Turning to face him, your shoulder brushed against Rafe’s chest as you subconsciously leaned into him. “Derek, hi. I was just about to head home.”Hey, Derek. I’m going to head home. “Is everything alright? Are you not feeling well?” Derek asks, trying to make sense of the situation. He steps closer to you and Rafe instinctively stood in front you.

“Nah bro, she just likes me better. And she won’t be needing this.” Rafe removes the jacket draped over your shoulders, balled it up and threw it at him. Derek catches it against his chest. “And if you’re going on a date, at least have the decency to buy genuine cologne. Not the cheap, watered down shit, Derek.” Rafe jabs.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Y/N.” “She doesn’t have to explain shit to you. Now piss off.” Guilt weighed on your chest when you saw Derek’s shoulder sag as he walked back to where he came. Your jaw dropped at the way he was speaking to people. “What the hell was that?” You pushed at his chest, barely making him move an inch.

“I was defending you. You dodged a bullet on that one, trust me.” “I’m not yours, you know.” You rolled your eyes in annoyance, his hand gently gripping your chin as he turn your face to look at him. “Not yet,” a breath hitched in your throat, scared to move an inch. You can’t close the Pandora’s box once it’s been opened.

“Are you taking me home or not?” “Right. You don’t have to tell me the address. I already know.” He lets go of your chin softly and starts walking to the array of cars. You walked next to him, your hand occasionally grazing his, making your heart skip a beat. “Well that’s not comforting. You’re definitely not knowing where I work. I can’t let the fact that you’re hot distract me from being logical.” “Awe, you think I’m hot? Thank you.” “Oh for the love of God,”

“I’m telling you, they know each other.” John B starts. “How? She’s literally from Atlanta, Georgia. Where would they have met each other?” Pope defends. “I don’t know. But they have a history. You see the way Rafe forgot about what he was doing when she showed up?” John B explains

“Forget that. Did you guys see the way they were looking at each other? They totally fucked,” JJ intercepts and John B nodded in agreement. Pope, Sarah and Kiara made noises of disgust. “Ew, I do not want to hear about my brother’s sex life, guys.” Sarah complains. “I don’t need to know that about my cousin either,” Pope explains. “You’ve only known her a month, Pope. She could be working with him for all we know.” JJ reasons.

“She’s my family and she saved our asses back there. Give her some credit.” “Credit revoked,” John B says once he spies Rafe’s truck pulling into the driveway. After throwing the car in park, Rafe hops out of the car to open the door for you- against your wishes if you might add. He took your hand and guided you down from the truck.

“What the hell is he doing?” Kiara asks. “He has feelings for her,” Sarah answers in disbelief. “If she’s on our side, we can use that. We can definitely use that.” JJ suggests. They watched as Rafe walked you to the front door and said something to you before watching you go into the house safely. You stopped in your tracks once you saw the group looking at you skeptically.

“How the hell do you know Rafe?” Pope prompts you after a moment of silence.

#black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron #OBX

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denimbex1986 · 1 year ago

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'Cillian Murphy strolled to the stage at the Golden Globes with dark red lipstick smeared all over his nose, and the collar of his Saint Laurent tuxedo shirt up, with no bow tie, looking like he'd rolled over from a massive one at Saltburn.

This was not the Cillian Murphy that the internet had been poking fun of for the last six months for his clear disdain for press attention. This was awards season Cillian Murphy. A different beast altogether. It had, in all honesty, been difficult to imagine him getting up on stage and saying "thank you to the Hollywood Foreign press" and all that. It didn't seem to be in his nature. But we should have known that the destroyer of worlds would rise to the occasion.

Picking up the award for best actor in a drama film, he showed the charisma that has gotten him through two decades in Hollywood. He had jokes (about Christopher Nolan having no chairs for actors on set), modesty ("One of the most beautiful and vulnerable things about being an actor is you can't do it on your own") and he thanked all the requisite power players: Universal Pictures, Oppenheimer producer Emma Thomas, his team.

He kicked things off extremely charmingly, by addressing the elephant in the room. “First question, do I have lipstick all over my nose?” And then when everyone shouted “yes!”: “I'm just gonna leave it.”

“I knew that the first time I walked on a Christopher Nolan set that it was different,” he said. “I could tell by the level of rigour, the level of focus, the level of dedication, the complete lack of seating options for any actors. I knew that I was in the hands of a visionary director."

He went on to shout out, by name, his castmates: Emily Blunt, Matt Damon, Robert Downey Jr. and Gary Oldman. “Thank you for carrying and holding me through this movie.” He called his fellow nominees “legends” even the non-Irish ones (nodding to fellow countrymen Andrew Scott and Barry Keoghan). Then, he ended with a shout-out for his family.

It was a precisely measured and perfectly delivered awards speech. Afterwards, one thing became clear: He's ready for his Oscars moment.'

#Cillian Murphy #Oppenheimer #Golden Globes #Christopher Nolan #Emily Blunt #Matt Damon #Robert Downey Jr.#Gary Oldman #Andrew Scott #All of Us Strangers #Barry Keoghan #Saltburn #Universal #Emma Thomas

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mod-doodles · 1 year ago

Note

I saw your post and wanted to comment on the “platonic soulmates” bandwagon that’s being dragged through every article, every interview, and every post about The Bear.

I don’t hear about platonic relationships nearly as much as I do when the relationship in question involves a black female lead and a white male lead. Like, sure, platonic relationships are great but why does it only come into play with the above dynamic (I mean bc racism, obvs)?

Anywho, you can really tell it’s about race just going through The Bear tag and seeing carmy x reader fanfiction. They tell on themselves!

They honestly don’t need to get together but all the noise just makes the bias so evident and that’s what’s bothersome, imo.

-Anon out

So true, every time I hear ‘Platonic Soulmates’ it’s because there’s a black female lead. Sometimes but rarely ever biracial/light skin but most often unambiguous and dark skin black women. I also noted that some of the profile pictures of the people hating were from black male accounts (the hating is coming from inside our walls), disappointed but surprised.

The wildest and most consistent statement I keep seeing is they don’t have chemistry.

(I’ve also seen ‘The Bear doesn’t need romance’ a lot too for transparency sake)

The Carmy x reader thing I’m new to, so I can’t comment on how often or not fanfics are written from that perspective. I’m also not one to kink shame (even though some of the requests be having me clutching my pearls 😂) but I do notice that they have taken over the bear hashtag which I do raise an eyebrow at.

I want them together because it’s just a beautiful and distinct love story that’s based on mutual respect, talent and admiration. Any two actors of whatever racial identity with this much chemistry, both being single like why wouldn’t they be together. They’re soulmates and as it a slow burn with so much tension and it’s on the nose in a different way than ‘Bridgerton’ is.

But also justice for the girls:

Abbie x Ichabod - Sleepy Hallows

Bonnie x Damon - Vampire Diaries

Joss x Lionel - Person of Interest

Michonne x Rick - Walking Dead (this ship sailed but the audience pissed me off)

Iris x Barry - The Flash

Amie x Elias - Eagles (this ship sailed too)

Janine x Gregory - Abbott Elementary (like bffr)

#misogynoir #tv discourse #sydcarmy #the bear meta

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4kennels · 4 months ago

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Happy Tails Grooming

Brett and Mike my “new masters” jumped out of the cab of the pick up truck and come around to the back and open the wire gate of the large pet carrier, cage.

Mike pulls out a leash and attaches it to my collar. The pull me out and tell me to stay on my hind legs until they command otherwise.

As they tug me we walk across the parking lot toward the front entrance of a business called the “HAPPY TAILS GROOMING.” Brett and Michael chat and chuckle along the way as I follow silently behind looking straight ahead, ignoring the murmuring from the milling shoppers who notice our arrival, as best I can.

But come on... this is easily the highest level of humiliation I've ever experienced. I am dressed in a black leather dog collar, a pair of daisy-duke denim shorts, a t-shirt with DAWG printed in large letters. Thevt-shirt has been cropped off just below my pecs, i am wearing flip flops. I am being lead by a noisy silver chain leash.

Then a shout from my left takes the humiliation to another level,

"J. C. Webster? I can't believe my eyes!

J, C. is that you? What happened, dude, bad batch of weed?"

I don't want to look, but it's a reflex thing and I turn my head to the left, effectively confirming that it is indeed me...

Mike says “…yes, it's J.C. Webster almost naked in girl's jean shorts that are so small they don't even cover his bush, dog collar around his neck, and lady's flip flops complete his outfit; lovely!”

I'm also the only individual who isn't wearing a normal shirt or top of some kind. And normal masculine shorts.

Brett: “Yes, it's him... say hi, J.C.”

Oh God! I'll never be able to show my face in Atlanta again. The guy who shouted to me is Neil Bankers, my former next door neighbor at my pre-bankruptcy home. He's shorter than me so I always beat him at one-on-one basketball and afterward I wasn't a good-sport about it either, taunting and mocking him and so forth. So, oh yeah, he'll definitely be happy to spread the news in my old neighborhood about the new me.

He's with his buddy, Dwayne Jackson, who calls over, "Woof, woof, grrrr!" and people, that none of us know, laugh out loud and point me out to those who haven't spotted me yet. That's followed by other mocking catcalls, but my eyes are burning from the heat of my face and there's a hollow echoing in my ears, so I don't register much of what is yelled in my direction. When we finally walk into the dog grooming shop everyone laughs even louder... me wearing a dog collar going into a dog grooming shop...

ha, fucking, ha! Ya know, I can't ever remember seeing Mike enjoying himself this much... ever!

Inside Happy Tails Grooming there are a number of people talking among themselves waiting for their groomed dogs to be brought out to them. All talking stops when we walk in, silently everyone openly stares at me. My entire body is blushing and there's no place to hide. It's deafeningly silent now and I get the most intense urge to adjust my package, but don't dare. In the silence time crawls to a standstill and all I can hear is my heart beating and a noisy- nose-breather who turns out to be an old guy standing to my right.

This old fellow finally touches my shoulder, and asks, "What are you?"

Good question.

I ignore him as a huge bear of a man comes out from behind a door to my right, he's leading a beagle and a collie on leashes. Both dogs obviously have been recently washed and groomed. A booming voice from the man, "Here ya go, Robert. Snooky is beautiful again."

He hands the dog's leash to the rude old man who'd asked me what I was, then the Bear of a man booms out, "Here ya go girls, Icetea is ready to go home," and hands the leash of the beagle to two butch looking ladies who smile and give Barry a thumbs-up. "Please pay at the register ."

Then, to the remaining woman, "Pearl is ready too, I'll get her for you."

Turning to us, He speaks loud enough so everyone can hear, "Let me guess... which one of you needs a wash and a cut," and he laughs in a boisterous, but friendly way, as Brett's saying, "I'm Brett Knight, remember me; Junior's brother?" He takes hold of the leash attached to my collar, and now in a whisper all could hear,

"How could I forget you or your brother, buddy! You boys brought that long haired man to be groomed. Your doggie play is right up my alley. What is your pup’s name?”

Not having named me or called me anything but DAWG, Brett and Mike consider and exchanged options.

Finally Brett said “Fido.”

The big man continued, “This one will take about twenty minutes. Do you want to come back... or do you want to wait."

Brett says, "We'll be back," and they leave.

Barry grins and orders, "Down boy and I'll walk you into the washing station."

I'm so used to getting down when told to, I do it and the person waiting for Pearl gasps, as the big man, who's apparently Barry, is saying, "I'm kidding with you, boy! Get up."

I get up pretending I was kidding too, and follow him inside. Well, what the fuck... he does have me on a leash.

Inside the grooming space there's that unmistakable smell of dogs, and that unpleasant strong smell of the perfume in dog shampoos.

Barry says, "Strip, and I'll lift ya into that big tub at the end so you can soak."

There's a medium size dog in the tub next to the big one, he's looking at me with his ears pointing up.

Naturally I hesitate... I mean, "Get undressed, are you shitting me?" I'm smiling, like I get the joke, but he's sincere this time, and says,

"No, Fido... this time I'm not kidding. Unless bathed properly, I won't groom a dog, no matter from the human species or canine species! And, no offense, but you smell like a toilet."

That goddammed dirty rag Mikey used on me earlier! Still, I'm hesitating because this is so far from real life experiences that it boggles my mind.

He's nice about it when he says, "Make-up your mind, buddy... I've got a lot of grooming to do before eight o'clock tonight. I'm good with this kinky stuff, I'm down with and my boyfriend and I dabble in it ourselves. You'll either go along with Brett's wishes, or you won't... I don't force anything on anybody. You need to want me to do it, before I'll do it. Okay?"

What can I do? Brett and Mike have already gone, maybe Brett didn't know about this naked bath... what the fuck, I'm not going to give him an excuse to whip me again. Resigned once more to my fate, I pull off the flip flops and peel off my t-shirt, saying, "Yeah, let's do it."

Barry takes over and starts to unbutton the daisy dukes. I impulsively attempt to stop it, but he is in control, saying laughingly , "Don't worry, I've seen penises before, on you dogs and even a man or many and, frankly, penises aren't much different from breed to breed."

His eyes briefly get big when he checks me out. This unbelievably embarrassing situation has shrunken my dick to the size it was when Brett swatted it with the fly-swatter. He bites his lip, then real quietly murmurs, "Okay, we got ourselves a real little puppy/baby boy here."

As the color of my blush darkens and spreads to my chest, he puts a large hand at the back of my neck, then stoops down to gets his forearm under my knees and picks me up like I weight five pounds.

'Humiliating' simply doesn't cover it.

Without any noticeable strain, he holds me away from his body and then a boy comes in the backdoor... Barry stands there holding me, smiling at the boy. He's about twelve, a shocked expression on his cute face as it registers that a five foot-eight-inches-tall man with a tiny dick is naked in Barry's arms. There's no apparent fucking end to my humiliation... 'humiliation?" there has to be a stronger word than humiliation to describe this stuation. My whole body turns red.

Barry says, "Oh, hi, Roy. Just a sec, buddy..." as he's taking three steps to the big tub and then sits me in the doggie bath of luke warm water. Roy stares at me like he's just seen a space ship land from outer space, but I can't look back at him. The water I'm sitting in smells strongly of dogs and that peculiar cloying smelling dog shampoo I mentioned earlier. Now I'm surrounded by it as I sit on the bottom of a large dog's bathtub with my knees up and out of the water, water reaching up to my nipples. There are soap suds and other unidentifiable matter floating in the water making it too cloudy for me to see to the bottom. Many different kinds of dog hairs float on top of the water sticking to the suds and to me. The skanky water, the dog hairs, plus the small matter of a twelve year old boy gawking at me sitting naked in a doggie bath, combined to have me on the verge of puking, but I pull myself together. Gravel or something like gravel on the bottom of the tub is prickling at my buttocks, and it's totally gross!

Roy, still staring dumbfounded at me, says, in a monotone voice, "I'm collecting for the newspaper, Barry."

Ignoring Roy, he says to me, "Would ya stand-up for a second, buddy? I gotta grab that bungee cord down there somewhere."

I slowly stand up and Roy gets a second look at my shriveled dick. He looks up at me and I look away, then glance back to see him pointing at my penis, then pulling his hand back to cover his mouth, laughingbquietly. I'm surprised my fucking head doesn't burst into flames I'm so embarrassed.

Barry is clueless, he pulls a bungee cord up from the bottom, saying, "I'm busy now, Roy; can ya ask Steve at the register for the money, I'd appreciate it, honey."

Roy says, "Um, sure... why you washing a man in the big dog tub?"

Barry laughs, and says, "He just wanted to try it, honey... you run along now."

I glance over at him and when he sees me looking he points to my crotch, and then back at me holding his fingers an inch inch apart and I again avert my eyes gasping.

Roy giggles... I hate giggling! He leaves the shop walking out the door Molly and I came through a couple minutes ago. I can hear him saying to someone, Molly's grooming a tall naked man with a one inch teenie weenie." Tears of rage form in my eyes... how much humiliation can one guy take?

Barry is humming a soothing sound, unconcerned about the interruption, he quietly says, "Let's get you secure in here so you can enjoy your soak."

Pulling a thick bungee cord from the other side, under my knees, and then pulling on the cord raising my knees further out of the water, she attaches thebcord to this side. Elevating my knees like that would have dunked me backwards under water except Barry anticipated that and got his big hand behind my neck just in time. He then strings another bungee cord lower, just in front of my ankles, pulling my ankles back and I'm pretty much secured in place.

My face is still hot and red from my encounter with Roy, but logic tells me I'll never see him again in my life so I'm willing myself to put it out of mind. Barry's oblivious to my distress; he sweetly asks, "Can you hold onto the sides for a few minutes yourself, puppy? I'll be right with ya soon as I finish Lance. You just enjoy soaking in there for a while, okay?" He's being very nice about everything, but "COME ON!!" I'm naked in a fucking dog bath, for christsakes, and this place is as busy as Grand Central Station!

Lance is apparently the poodle in the smaller cage. Barry carries him to the grooming table and hooks a slip collar around the pouch's neck, then a bungee cord is stretched just under his belly in front of his hind legs. The dogs been washed and dried already, his white hair very clean looking and fluffy. Barry wastes no effort, everything is done efficiently, but not in a hurried manner.

He likes what he's doing, I guess. Music plays in the background although Barry himself is mostly silent except for calming sounds he makes as he handles the dog. He cups the poodle's snout to manipulates the head as he uses clippers to groom the dog in a typical poodle cut. First the bare clippers get the belly and back and parts of the leg etc. Then, a clippers over comb method is used to evenly cut the longer hair areas. It's a silly looking cut if ya ask me, but it's what the dog's master wants.

Brett left instructions for my grooming too, "Not shaved Barry, but down to the scalp. A buzz cut."

He'd said, "You got it, buddy!" So that's that; and, ya know what... after a while you can accept just about anything. It's like I told Mike..."Boys like Me, who get bullied all the time, begin to accept it and even think they somehow deserve the bullying. Nothing specific, just that they deserve to be dominated and humiliated." That's pretty much where I am now, I guess.

Brett just overwhelms my senses, one outrageous humiliation after another. It's never over and now there's Mike to contend with too, a tag-team match... and as a result, here I am getting groomed at Happy Tails Groomers.

Barry takes about ten minutes with Lance. While he's grooming him, me and the pointy eared dog in the bath next to mine, watch his every move. As I said,

Barry's a large man. He's almost a foot taller than i am and almost three times as wide as I am, with huge hands and thick wrists. Done with Lance, he pets him and is tender with him, cuddling with him like i wish i had someone do me. Lance, contented and happy, yips a couple of times and is then put back into a cage where he immediately lies down and goes to sleep.

Barry pets the pointy eared dog sitting in the bath next to mine and murmurs comforting sounds to him before finishing with, "I gotta do this big puppy first, hope ya don't mind, Butch ," as the dog focuses on Barry's every word, looking alert. Then, before he can begin washing me a bell sounds and he goes out front to see what's up. He's a loud talker out there and I can hear him talking to the owner of her next grooming appointment.

A minute later Barry's back leading another medium size dog, of unknown breed, into the cage next to Lance's. Lance immediately wakes up and the two dogs go about smelling each others asshole through the bars.

Barry plucks the sponge from the tub he washed a dog in earlier, squeezes doggie shampoo onto it, and drops it into my bathtub, saying to me, "Pinch your nose closed, puppy, I'm dunking you under." With unhurried, smooth movements, he places his meaty hand partially behind my neck leaving his thumb over the front of my shoulder, I got my nose pinched closed as he knocks my other hand away from the side of the tank and firmly pulls my torso down dunking my head, shoulders, and chest and stomach into the yucky water. I'm submerged from the top of my head to just above my dick with my thighs, knees, and most of my calves out of the water draped over the bungee cord. I'm holding my breath for all I'm worth with eyes tightly closed. Barry's using the dog-bathing sponge in his left hand to scrub my face and head, then behind my neck and shoulders. Long strokes under my arms and down my sides. He manipulates my body with the one hand shoulder grip and at one point my head comes up near the surface for a second and then is forced down again as the sponge forcefully scrubs my chest. I desperately need to breath and try sitting up using the bungee cords for leverage, but my stomach muscles are no match for Barry's hold on my shoulder. The dog hair and germ infected soapy/shampooie water feels almost greasy and I force myself not to think about it. Barry methodically wipes the sponge over my torso, then reaches under to get my back. A few more swipes over my head and she pulls me up. I come out of the water gasping for oxygen, sputtering and spitting out water that slipped past my lips, "How many dogs get washed in this water before he changes it, anyway?"

But, oh man, it's so wonderful to be able to breathe again. My whole body, covered in dog hairs, is tense as my heart pounds and my chest heaves, but at least there's oxygen available to breathe.

Barry continues to be unconcerned about any of my many distresses; apparently dogs get panicky too and he's used to it. Being sure of his skills he remains calm, quietly making soothing noises and then soothingly says, "You're fine, puppy... no worries. Oh, did Barry keep ya under too long? If I did I'm sorry. Arms out in front, please... and don't worry so much, I've got ya, you're safe."

He squeezes the back of my neck and continues with, "This is fun for me, doing you boy puppies, I mean... and especially one as cute as you. Never fear though, I'm not going to hurt you." He adjust his palm behind my head supporting me and that, plus the way he talks, has a very calming influence on me and there's something trustworthy about him too, so I loosen my death grip on the sides of the tub and hold my arms out in front of me as he requested. Barry uses the sponge to wash up and down both arms, then extra scrubbing on the palms of my hands which are dirty from walking on all fours. Leaning over me he reaches the bottle of doggie shampoo and squeezes another good amount on the sponge, all the time easily holding my head out of the water with his other hand. He says, "Relax, okay? What's your name, cutie?" Falling under his control I all of a sudden feel like a little boy, I squeak out, "J.C. Webster," sounding like a little kid. He goes, "Well, relax, J.C., or maybe i should call you FIDO. I've got control of everything, can't ya tell?" I mumble, "Yes, sir, ah... do you expect anyone else to come through? It's kinda embarrassing." He goes, "Probably not, but what's to be embarrassed about. Roy's seen naked males before, I'm pretty sure."

I'm thinking, "Getting washed and groomed in a dog grooming salon? I don't fucking think Roy's seen that a lot!"

And he says, "What's to be embarrassed about?" Is he out of he fucking mind?! Anyway, he doesn't appear to have a mean bone in his body, plus he has a calmness about him and he's nice, so I lay back against his hand and let my arms float among the dog hairs and, whatever else is floating there, and more or less just surrender myself totally to his care. "Good puppy" he purrs, "Let Barry take care of you. Okay, puppy?"

Now I'm in one of those trances, feeling like I'm in a dream, like I'm floating on air. I'm also getting kinda used to the strong odor of the dogs and their shampoo by now too so I let myself drift off into Barryworld, mumbling, "Sure, it's okay, thanks sir. This is nice." And, this mood he's put me in is nice... he has such a calm manner about him, it's no wonder dogs instinctively trust him. It's peaceful knowing he'll be kind to me too; so different from the way I feel when I'm under Brett's or Mike’s control. Using the sponge, freshly covered in doggie shampoo, he washes my groin area with me opening my legs wide giving his full access to my little pecker and long scrotum, she murmurs, "Good boy, let's get your hiney now, okay?" I go, "Okay, Barry," as he's reaching under me running that sponge back and forth in my crack, them he's rubbing the sponge all over both my bubble butts, then the back of my legs and up to my knees. A few more swipes over my asshole, Barry smiles, and in baby-talk, says, "Let's make sure Barry cleans your bumper real good." I smile back at him as I drift off into space.

He moves to the front of the tub to finish washing me so I again hold onto the sides keeping my head above the dirty water. He washes my calves and then my feet. "You have nice big feet and long toes!" he quietly says, as he's wiggling my big toe. I smile at that too; it's wonderful being under the control of someone who's nice, who's kind. Barry drops the sponge into the tub and takes large nail clippers off a side table. Holding my foot out of the water by cupping the heel in her palm, she cuts my toenails down to the quick. The nail clipper looks like a regular one only stronger with a spring to help cut through tough dog's nails. They cut through my toenails like cutting through nothing at all. Finished with the nail clipping of the first foot, he massages it, digging his thumbs into the arch until it almost hurts, but not quite. When the water presses against the top of my toes it feels funny. I've never had my toenails cut down this far before; the sensations of the water against new toe areas is strange. He finishes with my other foot and is now holding one of my wrist in his large hand cutting my fingernails the same way he did my toenails. After he cuts them, my fingernails are so short only the pink part remains, looking like they have pale pink nail polish on them.

Finished both hands, he unhooks the front bungee cord and casually picks me out of the water, his arms under my knees and his other meaty hand behind my neck; I like the way Barry's carrying me. It's like I weight nothing at all and I feel like putting my arms around his neck the way I did with my daddy when I was a toddler... but I don't.

Looking back at the tub and the dirty water, I see my finger nails floating on top of the water mingling with the dog hairs. Dog's toenails are probably dense enough to sink slowly to the bottom of the tub and could be the prickly things I sat on when first put into the doggie bathtub. "Pinch your nose again, puppy. We've going for a dip in the rinsing tank." It's a large deep plastic container that looks like a small above-ground pool. I pinch my nose with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut tight, like a three year old might do before being dunked in the pool by his mommy, "Wheeeee!" He dips me in, totally submerging me with water up to his muscular shoulders. Then up out of the water, then right back down into the water again. Pulling me out entirely now, me dripping with water, still some dog hairs clinging to me, but cleaner ones this time. Thinking this wasn't all that bad, I wipe the water out of my eyes and open them to see two girls and a guy come in the same back door Roy used. All of them are about twenty years old, maybe a year or two older. The girl points at me, and says, "Oh my God! What the hell, Uncle Barry? Ya taking in the homeless now?"

They all laugh nervously as Barry's setting me on the drying table. I'm on all fours because that's the way she set me down. My dick shrinks even more, to a bare nub, and my face is glowing red, the heat on my shoulders is uncomfortable... all from my blush. The three unexpected guests slowly walk around the tank to get a better look, as Barry says, "Oh, hi, Cheryl. Cover your eyes, honey, or you'll embarrass FIDO."

Barry's hooking me up the same way he did with the poodle; a slip collar around my neck, pulled tight. I'm comatose by now and anything anyone says sounds like a repeating echo. I look straight down at the table top without moving a muscle, hoping perhaps if I don't move no one will notice me. Barry's movements continue to be unhurried and efficient, and as he stretches a bungee cord under my belly down near my groin and another one over the back of my knees, he says,

"He not a homeless person, just one of you college kids goofing around with some friends... a dare of some kind. A kinky dare and you know me and kinky, don'cha, Cheryl. We go together like bread and butter."

I can't move forward or backward, completely immobilized and my brain is frozen, while my body's on fire. Each second feels like an hour!

Molly takes what looks like a Q-tip, but larger, and swabs inside each of my nostrils, I try to move my head but the collar just tightens on my neck, my head barely moves.

He goes, "It's okay, relax, FIDO," then to Cheryl, "What can I do for ya, honey?" Cheryl's beside her uncle now; to entertain her two friends she's straining her neck taking an exaggerated look under me at my almost non-existent dick. Without answering Barry, Cheryl directs a question at me instead, "Did you have an accident with your penis, or something? And your bag of nuts, what do ya call that? It's long." One of the boys says, "Scrotum, Cherly... it's the god-damnest scrotum I ever saw." The boy and the other girl come over to peer at it. The other boy says, "I knew a kid in high school who had an infantile penis like this, but not this small." Then to me, he asks,

"Whadda you do, lay across the toilet when ya gotta pee?" Barry's like, "Shhh, enough of that naughty talk! You'll hurt his feelings." In my head I'm counting to one thousand as fast as I can blocking out whatever these horrible college students are saying. Around one hundred I lose count and hear the first boy say,

"Uncle Barry, come on, we wouldn't embarrass anyone for the world, but that scrotum is destined for the carnival. You know, pay an extra dollar to see the world record holder for longest scrotum behind the curtain." Cheryl's persistent with her question, and she reaches over to poke my one inch dick, asking me again, "What happened?" I couldn't talk, I'm only capable of making whiny sounds as Barry says, "Okay, Cheryl your friends are embarrassing him now. Stop it! Look how red he is right down to his bumper. What can I do for you?"

As he's chastising Cheryl for embarrassing me, he inserts a thumb into my mouth and pinching either side of my jaw bone with her other hand forcing my mouth to open, then plugs it open with a rubber stopper and checks inside with a penlight. The three college students snicker and talk quietly behind their hands, then laugh in bursts. Barry clicks on a large electric tooth brush and brushes my gums and teeth with it, as Cheryl's going, "Ewwwww. Do you use that on the dogs?" Molly says, "Enough, Cheryl! Why are you here?" Cheryl giggles, then asks, "Can we borrow your Jeep for a few hours? We'll have it back by the time you close." Cheryl's right... the toothbrush is undoubtedly the same toothbrush she uses on the fucking dogs; why would she have one for humans? This, the college kids and the doggie toothbrush, is really too much and puke rushes up from my stomach. I gag stopping the puke at the back of my throat as

Barry recognizes the situation and forces my head back and up at an awkward angle, stopping the vomit from getting into my mouth. "Now you've upset him, Cheryl. Don't be such a bitch, okay." He said it in a sweet way though, not angry, as he continues the dental hygiene part of my grooming. As the big dog toothbrush twirls on my teeth at the back of my mouth, near my throat, I gag repeatedly but he has my head totally immobilized and, as usual, ignores my discomfort. "Okay Cheryl, you know where the keys are," then to the boy "Artie, would you hold his head in this position for me a second, I need to get a tool to scrap some tartar off his back molars. Artie laughs, but says, "Yeah, sure," and grabs my head twisting it further up, neither of us speaks as Barry scrapes my back teeth with something that feels like a chisel, then sprays water from a bottle into my mouth and a doggie mouthwash refreshes my breath.

Barry looks inside my mouth with the penlight again, as Artie says to no one invparticular, "This is without question the oddest goddamn thing I've ever seen," and everyone, including Barry, has a good chuckle over that. Just when I'm positive my ass is going to catch on fire with humiliation Barry tells Artie he can let go of my head, he gives one painful final push up and then releases me.

I've a pounding headache now and the vomit's right at the back of my throat. Barry says, "Hey, he's just a curious kid who wonders how a dog feels getting groomed. Go on all of you now, let me finish up with this big boy." Then it all caught up with me and I did throw up in my mouth... not a good thing. Little by little I swallow the puke at the back of my throat as Barry pets my head making some of those soothing sounds he'd made while grooming the poodle, as the three uninvited guests leave, giggling and laughing out loud, Barry says, "Sorry about that, J.C., but you don't need to be embarrassed. You can't help it if you have a one inch dick." As if that's accurate or is all there is to it! Good grief, he's awfully nice but out of touch. Come to think of it, I guess he'd need to be out of touch to dog groom a college student.

Molly, with me still secured to the drying table, goes through a series of massages and rubs that, along with her soothing voice, manages to calm me down. They're nobody here but me and Barry now and that's such a relief! Barry murmurs, "That's a good boy,"as he goes back to work, this time swabbing my right ear with one of those big q-tips, then the other ear. Throwing the swabs away, he gets a larger one, dips it in some cream and walks behind me to swab out my asshole. My body jerks, and he quietly says, "Almost done," as the swab twirls inside my hole,

Then further up until it's twirling on my prostate making my dick twitch and was really arousing me. I was breathing heavily

“With puppies we have to expess the dogs anal glands. Is puppy okay?

I was starting to drooling and approaching an orgasm when out comes the swab and into the trash it goes.

It's all so mind-blowingly bizarre, but it feels good and we're along so I fall back into a serene trance... so grateful I'll never see any of those college kids again. It's peaceful and I'm grateful for that. Ripping open a sterile pad, Molly pours something from a brown bottle on it, then reaches under me and pull back the foreskin of my little cock to wipe the head with the pad. I hop a half inch off the table and he gently pats my ass, making those calming sounds again.

Turning his finger over, he wipes inside my foreskin all the way around, the liquid feels cold. "That's a good puppy," he coos, as she tosses the sterile pad in the trash. Patting my head, he quietly says, "I'll get you dry and then you're ready to be groomed." Flicking a switch on what looks like the world's biggest hairdryer causes it to nosily blows a huge amount of warm air over me. It's like being in a wind tunnel. As my body dries, the doggie hairs stuck to me dry as well and are, one by one, blown off my skin and up against the back wall to drift down joining other dog hairs on the floor from earlier washings.

As I'm being dried, Barry washes Butch, who has patiently waited in that medium size tub next to the one I was in. Butch observed every move Barry made while washing me and when he picked me up and brought me to the rinsing station the dog moved to the other side of his tub and watched every move Barry made there too. Butch now gives all his attention to Barry as he's bathing him. The dog's infatuated with Barry apparently, and so am I. He washes him just like he did me except the dog is only about one sixth my size and he doesn't tense-up like I did, so it went much faster. Then Butch is dipped in the rinsing tub and hooked up next to me in a similar manner to the way I'm hooked up. As soon as the dog is set down he shakes his body spraying me with rinse water, but the wind tunnel soon dries that too. I'm quickly as dry as I've ever been in my life, but the warm air continues blowing on me as Barry's busy doing something else. He's carrying a large sheep dog from the end cage to the washing tub, basically doing everything the same way he'd handled me; the dog and I weigh about the same. Barry sits him in the same larger tub I'd recently been bathed in, then hooks him up with two bungee cords so he can't jump out; he's just as immobile as I'd been. Only the top of his back, his tail, and his head are out of the water as he stands docilely, with an expression of almost embarrassment on his face.

My turn again... the wind tunnel is turned off and a smaller version of it is turned on for Butch. Barry unhooks me, picks me up with one arm under my buttocks and the other across my chest and again without apparent effort, carries me to the same grooming table he'd groomed the poodle on. Same routine of a slip collar around my neck tightly, then one bungee cord stretched under my belly near my dick, and one across the back of my knees. I'm totally immobilized once again. Snapping on the same clippers he used on the poodle,Barry takes hold of my jaw and easily manipulates by head this way and that as he runs the doggie clippers over my head. First across the front above my forehead and the half inch long hairs from there fall past my eyes followed quickly by another bunch of short hairs sheared to the scalp by the clippers.

He bends my head way over to the side and shears the very short hairs from there down to the back of the head. Bending my head to the side and to the left he runs the clippers up one side of the back of my head, then again, and again as I feel the short clippings falling on the back of my neck and shoulder. He goes over all areas on this side of my head one more time, pressing the clipper tightly against my scalp. Running his fingers over half my shorn head he goes back over a number of spots with the clippers, just to be sure. The same procedure for the other side of my head and I'm as docile for him as the sheep dog or poodle had been. Satisfied, the clippers snap off and he brushes the clipped hairs off me using a big soft brush that smell strongly of... what else, dogs.

"Okay, puppy, you've just got a shadow of hair left on your head. I could lather it and take the shadow off with a straight razor but Brett wants it like this for now." He's unhooking me as he's talking, then picks me up the same way as before; I'm as docile for him as I've ever been in my life. He says, "It will upset the dogs if you're standing around while I wash and groom them so I'll put you in a cage until Brett comes for you, it won't be long," and he. opens the door to the cage he just took the big sheep dog from and I crawled inside, my dick peeking out from it's hiding place as I get more comfortable with being under Barry's control. My long scrotum hangs down as I look out through the bars of my cage watching Barry wash the sheep dog. He's calmly and quietly murmuring many of the same things to him that he'd murmured to me.

Lance is two cages down, he picked his head up momentarily when I went inside my cage, but then he went back to sleep. I actually feel like a dog, wish I was one and Barry was my owner.

Much longer than 'just a few minutes' passes as I watch Barry finish the sheep dog's bath by dipping him in the rinsing tank. After hooking him up in front of the drier, the front bell sounds. "That'll probably be your mast..., er, I mean, Brett. He's come for you FIDO, let me check. When Barry's in the reception area he's much different than back here with us dogs. Here he's quiet and calm, out front he's loud. I easily hear him say, "Of course he's ready, honey. He was ready twenty minutes ago... I've got him in a cage. That'll be twenty-five dollars, pay the cashier."

I'm thinking, "Twenty five dollars! I gotta pay for this?" I'm out of my trance now and feeling claustrophobic in this cage.

In the lobby, Barry's saying, "He's got a lot of razor nicks on him. I could shave him and groom him professionally for ya weekly, without razor nicks, but that'll cost forty-five dollars."

I can barely hear Brett ask, "Every week?" and Barry's like, "Yeah, I had a regular customer pass away so I got this time spot open, but it needs to be every week or it's not worth it to me." Brett asks Mike, "What do you think? We'll deduct the money from his paycheck of course. Barry could bath him, groom him and shave him every Monday." Mike’s like, "Awesome idea! And while he's at the groomers, we can go to a movie.”

Brett like, "Sure, Mike,"

then to Barry, "Book him in for Mondays at four-thirty."

He's saying, "He's a doll or I wouldn't accept him as a regular, but with him it's doable."

So, my fate's sealed for this treatment every week, more then this treatment, he'll be shaving my legs and balls, and whatever. The word 'mortified!' doesn't adequately describe my state of mind right now. But, what’s new.

Barry comes in and lifts me out of the cage and then without thinking he starts carrying me outside, and I scream, "My clothes!" As he's putting me down, he laughs and says, "Oh, I forgot. Most of my clients don't wear clothes. Hope you enjoyed your spa treatment. And guess what... you're gonna be a regular!

I'll see ya next week." He's expecting I'll be thrilled about that. Oh, what the hell, he's a nice person so I'm not taking it out on him, it's not his fault. I say, "Yeah, that's really something," and he looks at me funny, like I'm not appropriately enthused, so I add, "You did a wonderful job. Thank you!"

He looks pleased now and my eyes get a little teary because he's gentle and nice to me and nobody else has been either of those things lately. I turn my head away and start over for my clothes, but Barry takes hold of my arm, and says, "Could you let me check something before you get dressed, honey?" I go, "Ah..." and I look at the door leading to Brett, and ask, "Ya think it'll be okay with with Brett?" He waves at the door, and says, "It'll only take a minute or two, he can wait. Let me get you up there on the table a sec, okay?"

Before I can answer, he casually picks me up with a hand under each arm pit, saying, "I wanna see what kind of a razor situation we have here so that I'm ready for you next Monday." He holds me over the table in a way that makes me bend my knees and I just naturally get on all fours. He smacks my ass saying, "Can you get over a little, honey?" I crawl over thinking, "He don't know his own strength. Jesus! That smack on my ass was harder and stings more than a paddle hitting me!" He mumbles "I'll make it quick, sweetie," as he's putting the slip collar over my head again and adjusts the bungee cords, immobilizing me. Force of habit, probably.

It's amazing how incapacitated a few taut bungee cords can make you. Barry's behind me spreading my buttocks and feeling between my legs, "Just want to see how extensive the shaving areas are." His big hands wrap around the front of my thighs, up next to my dick, "Feeling for stubble," he says, and I go, "But I don't shave there". His hand travels down my thigh then back up. He says, "I can feel you haven't been shaving here, but there are fine, almost invisible hairs here that need to be shaved if one's to do the job properly; I'll get them for you, I'm a professional." Then he's spreads his fingers wide and feels along my back and shoulders and then down my sides until fingers on either side of me are traveling down my dick, then back up lifting it as a finger feels along the underside of it. He then goes back to spreading my butt cheeks, saying, "I'll shave around your heiny hole too for the same reason; fine hairs."

A shudder goes through me then as the realization of how little control of my life I have... he telling me what he's going to do, not asking if I want it done. Barry's a very nice person, but it's apparent he's aware of the master/slave relationship that Brett and Mike have me in and that's the reason he's so comfortable taking control of me; that reason, plus he's used to always being in control of his dogs. But, come on, this is abject humiliation of the worse kind, and with Barry I don't even get to enjoy the sexual action I get from the boys when they're abusing me. But, as always, I come back to this:

"What the fuck can I do about it?" The answer to that question, at this time is,

"Nothing!" except make the best of it and cooperate so it goes as easily as it's possible to go under the circumstances.

As I contemplate my humiliating situation, Barry's adjusting the bungee cords, then he gets both hands on my hips and turns me over onto my back. The slip collar tightens around my neck for a second, but he adjusts that, then spreads my legs wide so that each ankle is held in place somehow by the bungee cord arrangement. Next he spreads and tucks my arm under bungee cords and I'm spread eagle on the table feeling totally on display. As he lifts my cock, he says, "I'll be shaving you on your back like this for the most part, and finish the job with you on all fours. In order to insure you don't make sudden movements causing me to nick you with the razor, you'll be secured like this." Everything he says is in a matter of fact manner, knowing neither the dogs nor me will complain or contradict him. He's totally in charge of us. "You'll find it's a pleasant experience. I have had it done to myself by a friend a few years ago, so I speak from personal experience." With a couple of fingers he's feeling around my dick, then down my scrotum to lightly squeeze my balls, then his fingers are under my balls, and finally he pulls my scrotum up, and says, "I see Brett's stretching your scrotum for ya. If you want I can pierce this and insert a nice ring or stud. You think about it, okay. That'll cost eighty-five dollars, but is well worth it." I make a noncommittal grunt because I don't want to hurt his feelings; he's nice, but the last thing I want is a stud in my stretched scrotum. I'm going to be enough of a freak having a foot long scrotum as it is. That's how long it'll be by the time Brett's through with me. After rubbing all around my belly and chest, Barry starts unhooking the bungee cords, saying, "You don't have much noticeable body hair, just the fine ones everybody has, but I like you so I'll be giving you pretty much a full body shave. Once you see how it feels to be shaved you'll want to do it all your life." I say, "Not my head though, right?" Barry lifts me down, and says, "That's up to Brett, honey... not me. If ya ask him nicely, maybe he'll let you keep the fuzzy hair you got on your head now." I feel my scalp and can just detect a fine sandpaper feel... boy, it's short alright. As I get dressed he turns his attention to the sheep dog. I say, "Bye. Barry," as I'm leaving, and he goes,

"Bye, puppy. See ya, next Monday."

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zeroducks-2 · 2 months ago

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Trick or treat!

Hello there!

You get a snippet from one of the strangest projects I'm working at, an Eobarry kemonomimi AU in which Barry is a little kemonomimi fox, and Eobard a fox hunter (the idea literally comes from the fact that in Running Scared he's wearing a fox hunter outfit lol)

He ends up stopping in front of the only inhabited cage, occupied by a little thing which has to be the softest looking, most beautiful fox Eobard has ever seen. It's gold and cream, with splashes of red on the tip of the thick tufts of its mane, and petite in a way which allows its voluminous tail to cover it up almost entirely.

«Hello there.» He says, smiling at the way the critter’s ears perk up. «So very pretty…» The fox lifted its head enough to show a pair of big blue eyes, framed by golden lines of fur. It looks tired and hungry, and who knows when it’s been caught but it’s obvious it hasn’t eaten much since then. «Do you want some?»

Eobard has lowered himself down to his knees and pulled a piece of beef jerky from his satchel. He observes the way the critter’s nose twitches when the strip gets torn in two, and a spicy smell wafts around. It doesn’t approach though, doesn’t even rise on its limbs and just stays huddled up on itself, hidden by its tail.

It must be really scared. It’s obviously young even if not technically a kit anymore. Still not a suitable age for having its fur stripped, but it is a gorgeous specimen and the furriers don’t really care… if they think they’ll make a bigger profit by selling the fur rather than the fox itself for breeding, they will do just that.

He’s considering this and chewing on the jerky when the fox sits up, sniffing the air again and quite obviously looking at the other piece of dry meat. Eobard doesn’t stick his hand into the cage and doesn’t beckon the critter, instead leaves the strip in reach on the wooden slab where the cage is resting, then stands up and steps back, leaning against a post as he watches.

The fox watches him back, and then glances at the piece of meat. It takes it a minute but eventually it does crawl closer and picks it up, curiously never stopping to cover itself with the tail, even as it sits back and eats.

Eobard picks up another strip and pulls it apart, eats one half. When he gets closer the little thing backs off, but this time he holds out his gloved palm and waits for the fox to stick its little hand out and take the jerky. It takes some suspicious looks, some hesitation and some nose twitching, but the little thing does eventually comply, and the next piece is served in the same way, but this time Eobard is the one sticking his hand into the cage; his fingers get sniffed and the piece of meat taken, and he flicks the critter’s ear before pulling his arm away, snorting quietly at the surprised beep the fox makes.

#my asks #my fanfictions #eobarry #trick or treat ask game

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 2 years ago

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A Slice of Texan Beef

Featuring Character Actor, Barry Corbin

I was at No Frills Grill off of Eastchase the other the night and who should walk in the doors? One Mr. Barry Corbin, dressed like one of his on-screen characters. I've seen him lots of times with his wife and NTN trivia/poker playing buddies, then proceeded to get wasted. He is super nice and if you ask him for a picture or autograph, he will happily give it to you. I wasn't fanboying or anything as I said, I've seen him there plenty of times.

Anyway, I had to piss. Entering the bathroom I was surprised to see him. The thing is, the bathroom is VERY small with only a sink, two urinals and one stall all next to each other with Barry using one. I thought what the Hell, it's not everyday you can stand next to your celebrity crush and piss.

"Talk about a dream come true." I jokingly blurted out without even thinking as I looked up to see he was looking right at me.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to offend, I just had a crush on you for years." I said before I could catch myself.

Suddenly he was looking at me differently. His eyes seemed to stare at me as thought he was looking at me through a magnifying glass. And at that moment, it was if I'd seen him for the first time. He stood 5'10" and had broad shoulders like a linebacker. Corbin has no hair on the top of his head, and alopecia has just about claimed his eyebrows, but a prodigious gray goatee encircles his mouth. The look of real-life Texas cowboy. A real man's man. If he hadn't of smiled at that moment I think I would have run out of the bathroom.

Then the old actor suddenly turned toward me with his cock still sticking out of his jeans. It was thick and uncut, almost prefect. My first celebrity cock I had ever seen in person.

"Well, why don't we make this dream... a reality. I've always wanted to see how it felt to have my dick sucked by a man." Corbin said in that Texan drawl as he stood there shaking his dick back and forth as it swelled up.

I was so shocked, I couldn't speak. All I could do was nod, follow him to stall next to us and sat on the toilet in front of him.

"Don't get the notion that I'm gay." The old man intoned, leaning forward and peering at me as I reached out and took hold of his beautiful dick.

"I'm married." He said as I fondled his thick cut dick.

"And I fuck her all the time." He added as I closed my lips around his pale uncut cock.

The old man moaned as I easily deep throated his swelling dick down my throat. I loved the taste of cock. It was fresh and masculine. His body smelt slightly of sweat as I pressed my nose against his open fly as I deep throated his dick. Corbin then reached down, grabbed me behind the head with his huge, weathered hands and pulling my face toward his crotch, forcing his now hard cock down my throat. I managed to take inch after inch of his thick 7" dick down my throat until my lips were pressed against his dark pubic hairs.

He held my face to his crotch until I gagged before he pulled my head back. I quickly re-swallowed about a third of his dick as I slowly run my tongue up and down his shaft. Then he started moving my mouth up and down his thick dick shaft as he fucked my mouth like he was fucking his wife. I took his plunging dick and made love to it with my tongue as the old man repeatedly shoved it down my throat and pulled it quickly back out.

"Damn... your going to make this old man cum if you kept doing that." The old man called out excitedly as he fucked my mouth faster and faster.

Old memories of how much I had wanted to suck Barry from ‘Urban Cowboy’ to ‘Northern Exposure’ to ‘No Country for Old Men' surfaced in a rush of passion.

“Never had anyone suck my pecker this good.” He told me as he watched me working on his dick.

“Hell, this is better than fucking my old lady!” The old actor said as he started hunching me harder and faster. With him saying that, I fought to keep from chocking as I let him shove his big cock deeper and deeper into my throat. I wanted to give him more pleasure than he got from his wife.

“Get ready. I’m going to unload! Damn! Here it comes!” Corbin said as he suddenly pulled his dick out of my mouth and shot his huge load of white cum onto my face.

I quickly jumped to my feet and grabbed my dick and started to jacking it as fast as I could as he watched me. I shot off on the tile floor of the bathroom with the old man watching.

"Thanks. I'll never forget this." I said as I cleaned the last drops of cum from my chin.

"I won't forget this either son. Thanks." Barry said as I hurried out of bathroom.

I continued to see Barry at No Frills but nothing else ever happened between us.. Just a low key nod or wink.

#Barry Corbin #fan fiction #corbin fiction #american actor #actor

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andrealvsbooks · 2 months ago

Text

Demons

Who is Lizbeth Potter really?

That's a question that gnaws at Lizbeth herself. All her life she has felt strange as if a piece of her life was missing, when at last it seemed that the moment of answers would come, everything seems to get worse.

What seemed like a simple tournament in which she would also see her boyfriend Peter Pevensie again, becomes her biggest problem while she deals with new powers, a new identity as hated as the girl who survived and lies.

Have I mentioned yet that she now has a voice in her mind that says it's her dragon pestering her all the time?

Yes, Lizbeth Potter's luck couldn't get any worse.

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes or things that look weird please tell me so I can fix them.

Chapter 2

POV omniscient narrator

Isabella was waiting for the new student at the door of the Great Hall, as instructed by Professor McGonagall. From what she knew, the young girl’s name was Dayana Barry and she was 14 years old, just like Isabella. The young Potter had found it curious that she was changing schools, as it wasn’t normal, but the professor had refused to go into details.

It wasn’t long before Isabella saw a young brunette with turquoise eyes approaching. Her wavy hair cascaded down to her waist. Freckles were scattered across her face, and she had a beautiful, upturned nose.

"Isabella Potter, I’ve heard so much about you and everything you’ve done, and... and..." Dayana said quickly, a slight blush appearing on her face as she approached.

"Hey, hey! Calm down, Dayana Barry, right?" Isabella replied, somewhat confused by the brunette’s reaction.

"Yes, that’s me, Dayana Barry, at your service," Dayana said, leaving Isabella even more confused.

"Well, first of all, welcome to Hogwarts. I’ve been assigned to show you around the castle. I’ll only show you the main areas since the school is huge," Isabella said, starting to walk alongside Dayana.

"Okay, I’m excited to see the castle. It looks beautiful."

"Yes, it is. It’s wonderful, it feels like home. Trust me, you’ll be great here," Isabella said, her voice warm as she spoke about her beloved school. "Have you been assigned to a house yet?"

"Yes, I’m in Gryffindor."

"How nice! I’m in Gryffindor too."

"Great! What about the other houses? I don’t know much about how Hogwarts works."

"Well, there’s Hufflepuff, which is known for loyalty and hard work. Then there’s Ravenclaw, known for intelligence. And lastly, Slytherin... the members of that house are known for their cunning and doing whatever it takes to get what they want," Isabella explained, showing a clear tone of dislike when talking about Slytherin.

"You don’t seem to like Slytherin much," Dayana pointed out.

"Well... let’s just say they’re not the friendliest witches and wizards. They hate Muggle-borns. To them, only pure-bloods should have magic. A pretty stupid idea, if you ask me."

"How awful. In the U.S., there was also discrimination against Muggle-borns, but fortunately, the ones who thought they were superior were a minority. It wasn’t a big problem."

"Are you from the United States? I didn’t know there was a school there," Isabella said, curious.

"Yes, it’s called Ilvermorny. Just like here, it’s divided into four houses: Horned Serpent, which symbolizes wisdom; Wampus, where the warriors go; Thunderbird, for adventurers; and Pukwudgie, which is for the kindest. The house selection process consists of students going to the center of the great hall and writing their name on the symbol of the Gordian Knot, which is engraved in the stone floor. Then, in silence, they wait for the statues of the fantastic animals representing each house to choose them. I had a great time there," Dayana said, her voice tinged with nostalgia and sadness.

"Can I ask... why did you leave?" Isabella dared to ask softly.

"My parents passed away this summer... I had to move in with my grandmother, and she lives in England. Switching to Hogwarts was the best option," Dayana explained, feeling a little embarrassed.

"I’m sorry... I shouldn’t have asked, sometimes I’m too curious," Isabella said, feeling guilty.

"Don’t worry, you didn’t know. And honestly, talking about it helps me cope with it in some way," Dayana said, smiling at Isabella, trying to show her that there was no problem.

Isabella continued showing Dayana the most important areas of the castle, explaining the class schedules and visits to Hogsmeade. As they went along, Isabella found Dayana to be very sweet and kind, and it was easy to have a pleasant conversation with her. Before they knew it, they had visited all the places and were standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"The password changes every now and then, so you need to stay informed and remember it. To enter, you just have to tell the Fat Lady the password," Isabella explained to the American girl.

"Oh, my dear Potter, you worried me when I didn’t see you with your friends!" the Fat Lady said. Isabella couldn’t help but think how adorable she was sometimes.

"Don’t worry, I just went to show Dayana around a bit," Isabella replied, tired from all the stairs. She heard Dayana whisper, "Oh, Merlin, Isabella Potter called me by my name."

"Sure, password," Dayana said, a little nervous.

"Mmmm, the Fat Lady is the best singer in the whole magical world," Isabella said, smiling.

"Pass," the Fat Lady said, opening the door.

"Is that the password?" Dayana asked, confused.

"No..." Isabella replied, slightly amused by her innocence.

Then they went up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, and the dark-haired girl went to her room, which she shared with Hermione. When she entered, the brunette was already asleep, so she silently put on her pajamas and lay down. She began to close her eyes slowly until she fell into a pleasant sleep, which didn’t last long, as nightmares soon enveloped her as they usually did.

Isabella found herself in an old, damp wooden house that would have terrified anyone who saw it fifty years earlier. In this place, known as the Riddle Mansion, a sinister event had occurred that the villagers still liked to talk about. It had been told so many times that parts of the story had been added or forgotten, but all versions began the same way: fifty years ago, when Riddle Mansion still had that elegant and imposing appearance, the maid had gone out to buy something, and when she returned, she found all three Riddles dead. Isabella started to climb the stairs, trying to avoid any creaking, and turned to the right where there was a door. She didn’t know why she was heading in that direction, but it was as if her body was drawn there. She approached the half-open door, peered carefully inside, and listened to what a timid and frightened man was saying.

“There’s still some left in the bottle, sir, if you’re still hungry.”

“Later,” said a second voice. This one was also male, but unlike the first, it was high-pitched and so cold that Isabella’s hair stood on end when she heard it. “Bring me closer to the fire, Colagusano.”

Colagusano placed a glass bottle on the table beside the armchair where the second voice came from and moved the chair closer to the fireplace.

“Where is Nagini?” asked the cold voice.

“I don’t know, sir,” said Colagusano, trembling. “I think she went to explore the house...”

“You’ll have to milk her before we go to sleep, Colagusano,” said the second voice. “I need some food for the night, the journey has tired me.”

Furrowing her brow, the young girl leaned in closer to the door to listen better. There was a pause, then Colagusano spoke again.

“May I ask, how long will we stay here, my lord?”

“A week, maybe a little more,” replied the cold voice. “This place is, all things considered, comfortable, and there��s still time to finish the plan.”

“Should I understand that your lordship is determined?” asked Colagusano softly.

“Of course, I’m determined,” the second voice said, now with a threatening tone.

“Could it be done without Isabella Potter, my lord?”

There was another pause, longer this time, and then the second voice replied:

“Without Isabella Potter, I see…”

“Sir, I don’t say this because I’m concerned for the girl,” Colagusano quickly shouted. “She means nothing to me, nothing at all! I only say it because if we used another wizard or witch, it would be done faster. If you’d allow me to leave briefly, you know I’m good at disguises, I could return in two days with someone more suitable.”

“I could use any other wizard or witch,” the second voice said softly. “That’s true…”

“Very sensible, sir,” added Colagusano, visibly relieved.

“So you’re willing to find a substitute, aren’t you, Colagusano? Could it be that taking care of me has become too burdensome and you wish to flee?”

“No, my devotion, my lord…”

“Your devotion is nothing but cowardice,” the second voice said, colder than ever. “I have my reasons for making Isabella Potter my target, and besides, my loyal vassal is already at Hogwarts… Isabella Potter is practically mine. It’s decided, and it won’t be discussed any further…”

They continued talking, but the young girl could no longer hear or see. A green light blinded her, leaving her feeling more confused than ever. She felt as if the wind was carrying her away…

She woke up sweating, her scar burning. Her head was spinning. She looked over at Hermione’s bed to see if she was still asleep, and indeed she was. Isabella was confused, feeling like her head would explode from so many thoughts. She’d been having this nightmare since the holidays began, but each time it felt more intense.

Her hands were over the scar, which now burned as if someone had placed a hot iron on it. The images from the dream came to her in a confused way. The first time she had had such a dream, Colagusano and Voldemort, whom she now recognized, had been talking about killing a woman, but she couldn’t remember her name.

And now, they were planning a new murder: hers.

This troubled her, as it wasn’t the first time Voldemort had planned her death. Plus, there was the Triwizard Tournament and Mad-Eye Moody, who didn’t give her good vibes. Everything was so confusing and strange.

No, she was behaving like a fool.

Voldemort was very weak, and maybe they were just simple nightmares. The tournament had nothing to do with her, since she didn’t want to and couldn’t participate. And Mad-Eye Moody… well, she only knew rumors and his appearance. It was too early to judge him, she kept telling herself to relax. After a while, when the scar stopped burning and she had calmed down enough, she tried to go back to sleep.

After all, nightmares don’t always come true, do they?

#fourth wing#iron flame#rebecca yarros#imogen cardulo#bodhi durran#onyx storm#garrick tavis#violet sorrengail#peter pevensie x reader#peter pevensie#edmund pevensie#susan pevensie#lucy pevensie#the pevensies#narnia#chronicles of narnia#prince caspian#albus dumbledore#the empyrean#ron weasley#harry potter#tairneanach#tairn and sgaeyl#andarna#hermione granger #minerva mcgonagall #xaden riorson #severus snape

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