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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 3 years ago

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So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

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mjolnir-steve · 3 years ago

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Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years ago

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Sugar Daddy!Henry Cavill x Becky Kim (asian OFC)

A/N: So, recently I’ve been going over this story, since I really want to print this story in book form as well, but I thought a little bit about the whole Barbados trip, mainly the jacuzzi incident. I thought about what would’ve happened if I went with my first initial plan. *SPOILER ALERT* Them confessing their love for one another and be a happy couple. I decided to make a little alternate outcome for this specific incident. The start is mostly the same, with some little added Becky thoughts, but later on there is a totally different outcome. Hope you guys enjoy it

Warnings: Sex (like, masturbation, orgasms, real deal sex)

Wordcount: 3.1k

Masterlist // Sugar Sugar Masterlist

We’ve been in Barbados for around two days now and boy, do I want to live here. This weather, the people, I love everything about it. Henry on the other hand barely gets to enjoy it, because he works a lot. Before I leave the hotel, he hands me his credit card and tells me that I can spend as much money as I want to. I try to tell him that I have my own money, but he wouldn’t let me leave if I didn’t accept the card.

The problems I have now.

After a long day of strolling through the city, acting like the ultimate tourist, I go back to the hotel and most of the times he is there. We cook together, watch some movies together and it’s almost the norm for him to carry me to my bed after I fell asleep on the couch.

But now we finally spend some time together and I force him to check out the private pool with me. It’s still beyond me that he arranged that for us. An entire pool with jacuzzi’s and sauna’s, all for us.

While I swim in the lukewarm pool, Henry is still doing business on his laptop. I want to scold him, but I feel like that’ll be no use. I’ll just continue to enjoy the fact that there are no other people here in the pool with us. No one can stare at me and I know Henry will never judge me for the way I look.

I see him standing up from the lounge chair and he walks over to the side, as I place my underarms on the edge. ‘Henry Cavill, you completely outdone yourself. I love this place.’

‘I’m glad to hear that,’ he says with a smile. ‘Want to join me in the jacuzzi?’

‘Always,’ I say. I’ve seen the size of those things, and it means sitting close to Henry and there is nothing in the world I want more right now.

I am severely falling for this man.

I want to get out of the water myself, but he holds me underneath my armpits and lifts me out of the water. ‘Henry!’ I exclaim. ‘I am perfectly capable of getting out of the pool myself.’

He holds me hand and pulls me with me. ‘I know, I know, I just like this better.’

Me too.

We step in the jacuzzi and Henry pulls me in between his legs. I sit down and lean with my back against his hairy chest. I already knew he had a body to die for and I am aware he would never make me feel insecure, but he does it without doing it on purpose. While I can hide my imperfections in other types of clothing, this bathing suit barely leaves anything to the imagination. I was just so in love with the baby blue color, that I bought it when I saw it fit.

Henry wraps an arm around my waist, his fingers drawing figures on my skin. ‘Is this okay with you, baby?’

I love it when he asks for my consent, no matter what he does. ‘Mhm.’

‘Is that a yes or a no?’

‘A yes,’ I whisper.

He lets out a deep and content sigh. ‘Have I told you today that you are absolutely beautiful?’

I shake my head.

‘Well,’ he says, ‘you are absolutely beautiful.’

‘I’m not.’

He scoffs. ‘That’s nonsense, baby.’ His hand travels up a bit more. ‘You are breathtaking.’

I don’t think this happened to me before, someone telling me that I’m breathtaking, while touching me like that. ‘You really think so?’

‘I do,’ he whispers. ‘You can feel beautiful and confident when you’re around me.’ His hand travels up near my midriff and his thumb toys with the fabric of the bottom of my bikini top. ‘Is this still okay?’

I take a shaky breath. ‘Yes.’ I let my head fall back against his shoulder and nuzzle my face in his neck, smelling the remainders of his after shave. I want him to touch me, so badly. I don’t know how long I’ve craved it, just like I have no idea as to how I should initiate it.

‘Take it off.’

That’s one way to initiate it. Bravo Becky, Genevieve would be proud.

For one second I think that it took him off guard, but then he asks: ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

He tugs on the string of my top and the flimsy material uncovers my chest. He mutters something under his breath, peeling away the top from my body and placing it behind him.

His large hands cup my breasts and he rolls my nipples in between his thumbs and index fingers.

I dig my nails in his legs, as I squirm in between them. A soft whimper leaves my lips. When was the last time someone has touched me like this?

‘You feel so soft,’ he tells me, before his teeth sink in my earlobe. ‘Turn around,’ he whispers, ‘let me see you.’ I twist in between his legs, kneeling in front of him. He places his hands on my hips, pulling me closer. ‘Sit on my lap, baby.’

I straddle his legs, my breathing speeding up with excitement. I’ve had my mingles, sure, but it never felt like this. It never felt like I was being worshipped, because that is what’s happening here. He looks at me like I’m worth a million bucks and we’re talking about a millionaire here, who can stare with lust at his bank account on a daily basis. He licks his lips and whispers: ‘Are you still okay with this?’

‘Yes, it’s all good.’

Henry leans forward, to press a gentle kiss between my breasts, his warm breath sending chills up and down my spine. He lets his tongue circle around the sensitive bud, as he uses his hand to make sure the other isn’t neglected. I whimper, as my hands tug on his curls. His other hand slides down from my hip to the curve of my ass, his teeth sinking into my nipple.

My core grinds against his groin and he looks up with a smile. ‘Look at you, baby,’ he says with a proud smile on his face. ‘Does this feel good?’

I simply nod, as I don’t trust my voice anymore. There is so much I want to do. Pull his face to mine, so I can kiss him. Making this moment even more magical than it already is…

‘Mister Cavill, important phone call.’

From where we’re at, the man who calls for Henry can’t see us, but I still tense up as our moment is brutally interrupted. Henry leans back and exhales sharply, a hint of frustration noticeable. ‘Be right there,’ he flatly yells back. Our eyes meet again and he says: ‘I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll be right back, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I whisper, as I step off his lap. Henry gets out of the jacuzzi and hands me my bikini top. He walks out and I quickly make myself decent again, as I reevaluate what the hell just happened.

I mean, I clearly did not mind at all (still don’t, by the way), but how can I look this man in the eye again after what we just did? He sucked on my fucking nipple for crying out loud and it left an obvious tingle in certain body parts.

It takes about fifteen minutes before Henry walks back and he sits on the edge of the jacuzzi. ‘Becky,’ he says, as I look up. ‘I’m terribly sorry. I let myself go and… I shouldn’t have.’

I shake my head, feeling slightly disappointed. ‘No, don’t apologize, please. I let it happen and I didn’t mind.’ Still don’t actually. I run my fingers through my wet hair and look at the clock. It’s already kinda late. ‘You want dinner?’ I ask.

✤ ✤ ✤

My brain is unable to think about anything else, but the jacuzzi incident. I roll around in my bed, trying to find the right position for me to fall asleep. I clench my thighs together, hoping to relieve some tension, but it’s not enough. The idea of masturbating is of course circling around in my mind, but I’m a bit scared.

What if he walks in?

It would be severely out of character if Henry would walk in unannounced, but let today be the first time.

I wonder what would’ve happened had we not been interrupted. I was literally ready to give it all to him in that moment. The question is: how can I ever initiate it again?

During our dinner, we didn’t speak about it. He simply spoke about work and I told him what I did today and what my plans were for tomorrow.

Are we ever going to mention it?

I let my hand travel, slipping passed the waistband of my underwear. Just do it, Becky, you need to relief that tension. If you just stay quiet, keep your ears open, there isn’t a chance of him walking in. That man has loud footsteps, especially on these wooden floors.

I let my fingers slide through my swollen lips, before I brush over my sensitive clit. Fuck, me envisioning all sorts of scenario’s after the jacuzzi incident all night has caused me to be in the state I’m currently in.

My mind starts to wander, to the things that could’ve happened as we were in the jacuzzi. I don’t think sex in water is such a good idea, because water isn’t a good lubricant, but I can think in solutions. He’d bend me over the edge, would pull down my bikini bottom, leaving me bare and vulnerable. I don’t know what he would do, but imaginary Henry would spread my asscheeks apart, tease his tip near my entrance, all whilst keeping on his trunks. He is composed, he is collected and would never let his guard down like that.

Unlike me.

And then he’d push himself deep inside me, burying his length all the way in. I’d moan, I’d be already shaking. ‘Aren’t you a good girl,’ he’d whisper. ‘Taking me in like it’s nothing. Shit, baby.’

And then I’d say it. The title that has been prevalent in my mind for so long, would escape my lips. ‘Daddy, please,’ would fill the empty private pool. ‘I need you.’

There are two scenario’s. One: he’d take his sweet time. Two: he’d use me, all while chasing his own high.

For masturbation purposes and me already nearing my own high, I go for scenario two as my fingers rub my clit in a feverish pace.

Henry’s thrusts would be rough, the water would splash over the edges and his fingertips would leave prints on my hips. Maybe people would hear, but imaginary me doesn’t mind. I would moan out loud, as the buzzing in my legs would begin.

‘I’m close,’ I whisper, as beads of sweats start to appear on my body. I clench my jaw, as my toes curl and I shake on the soft mattress. I place my hand over my mouth, hoping to not make too much noise. As I ride out my high, shivering and shaking, I keep my eyes closed and my hand between my legs, thinking about how it should have ended in the jacuzzi.

Him filling me up with his seed, it all leaking down my legs as I would be an exhausted mess draped over the edge.

I let out a deep sigh, cleaning my fingers with my tongue. Fuck, I needed that. My breathing is normalized again after a few minutes and I get up from bed, to get myself something to drink. I walk into the living room area, before I end up in the kitchen.

Only to discover Henry is already there.

Has he heard?

‘Hey,’ he says, after he looked up, smiling softly.

I clear my throat, as I feel slightly exposed, because I’m only wearing this shirt and drenched panties. ‘Hi.’

‘Can’t sleep either?’

I shake my head. ‘No,’ I admit.

Oh shit, Henry saw my boobs. What happened to us? I thought we had a no sex policy and here I was, masturbating because of a tiny thing that happened in the pool today.

‘Want some tea?’

‘Sure,’ I say.

He grabs another mug and after he poured in some hot water and let the teabag soak for a while, he hands it to me. ‘Here you go, sweetheart.’

I have no idea what to expect. In silence we drink our tea as we both sit on a chair, staring at the city. When I’ve reached the bottom of the mug, I see he is already done with his tea.

You have to say something to him, Becky. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.

‘Can I sleep in your bed tonight?’ I ask him.

That’s the first thing that comes to mind? Why? No, no, no, what about your underwear?

Henry nods. ‘Of course.’ He holds out his hand and with our fingers laced together, we walk towards his bed and get underneath the thin covers. Since it’s a lot warmer here in Barbados, then it is back in New York this time of year, it gives Henry a reason to sleep in only his boxers.

I saw him shirtless today, but it sure as hell makes me slightly giddy to see his thick thighs, his broad chest and perfectly shaped ass. He holds out his arm as an invitation for me to cuddle up next to him.

‘What we did today,’ I whisper, ‘will it change what we have?’

He stays silent. ‘I don’t know,’ he says and that makes me become alert. He has engulfed me in his arms, but one hand is wandering, to my leg, before he pushes up my shirt. ‘I thought about it too.’

Too? What is he implying?

‘Hm?’

‘I heard you.’

He heard me? I thought I was being so quiet.

‘You’re not exactly a quiet one,’ he adds. ‘And to be honest: I kinda wished it was me making you go like that.’

‘I was loud?’ I ask him, sitting up. ‘I thought I was being quiet.’

‘You weren’t,’ Henry admits with a soft smile toying on his face. He takes a deep breath, almost like he is mentally preparing himself to say something. ‘I need you, sweetheart,’ he then says.

He needs me? This is starting to feel like a dream, but I pinch myself in my leg and don’t wake up. This is real. He needs me, thus in other words: he wants me.

And then I do it. I get rid of my shirt and throw it off the bed, before he helps me out of my panties. He chuckles darkly when he holds the damped fabric in his hand. He then ushers me to straddle him, after he discarded himself from his boxers.

Oh fuck, this man is big. Porn actors should be afraid of this man, because if word would come out Henry Cavill hides this in his boxers, they’d all could just give up on their jobs.

Still drenched from half an hour ago, I grab his hardened cock and bring his tip to my throbbing entrance. I look up to him and he nods. I let myself slide on his member and I let out a moan as he stretches me out in a way no man has ever. With him deeply buried inside of me, I place my hands on his chest, taking a few breaths as I try to take in this feeling. I swallow hard, when I feel his hands on my hips.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, trying to hide his smugness, but slightly failing.

‘Just having to get used to you,’ I admit. ‘Fuck, you’re huge. This gives a whole new meaning to rearranging my gut.’

He starts to laugh, pulling me down to give me a kiss on my lips. Kissing Henry is something never thought would happen, just like sex with Henry was off the table and was just a lovely dream. But here were are, our tongues dancing around each other as I feel my walls stretch around him.

His kisses are tender, just like his hands roaming my body is so gentle and sweet.

‘Henry,’ I whisper against his lips, ‘can I…’ I sigh deeply.

‘Ask me, baby. You can always ask me anything.’

‘Can I call you daddy?’

He chuckles. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’ He turns us both around, me on my back and him securely in between my legs. My arms snake around his neck and I give him a nod when I see his eyes asking for consent.

His thrusts are calculated and precise, not at all rough, but maybe that’s a good thing, since I’m still a tad bit sensitive down there and he is so damn huge. He looks so deeply into my eyes, making everything so intense, so intimate and so…

Real.

‘Faster,’ I whimper.

‘You sure?’ Henry asks.

I nod. ‘Please, daddy, go faster.’

Henry smiles and I can see the nickname does wonders. He cages me in his arms, thrusting roughly and fast. I don’t care if the entire hotel can hear me, because the room is filled with my moans of pleasure, skin slapping against skin and Henry’s grunts.

I gasp for air as I already feel my toes curling and I clench around him. I close my eyes letting the wave of pleasure overtake me. He buries his face in my neck, pressing kisses on the delicate skin.

It’s so sensitive and I let out a whimper like cry.

‘Daddy,’ I whine.

‘Almost, baby, almost,’ he says, giving me a kiss. ‘Fuck, you feel so good around me. So much better than I dreamed.’

He dreamed about us doing this? I wonder what Henry’s imaginary version of me would’ve done.

His hips stutter against mine and I feel him filling me up. I gasp for air, the feeling so much better than it was in my dreams. After Henry rode out his high, he looks into my eyes, still deeply and securely buried inside of me. ‘I care,’ he whispers. ‘I care so much about you. Who gives a shit about our agreement? I want more with you than this sugar baby/sugar daddy thing. I want you.’

I smile, my heart beating so much faster. ‘Good thing I care for you too, daddy. Forever and ever.’

✤ ✤ ✤

Sugar Sugar taglist: @diegos-butt // @henryobsessed // @crazybutconfidentaf @cherry-gemz // @sparklesmolwarriorprincess // @oh-for-fic-sake // @sunshine96love // @gearhead66 // @omgkatinka // @thelastsock // @toomanystoriessolittletime // @summersong69 // @kakaym // @abschaffer2 // @mis-lil-red // @pterodactylterrace // @sugarpenchant // @english8muffin // @coloraturadiva // @xobriellaxo24 // @oddsnendsfanfics // @chaiwithchrisevans // @cynic-spirit // @kebabgirl67 // @sugarplum1996 // @shewritesinthethirdperson // @eldarwen333 // @sesamepancakes // @shamelesssoff // @thehunterintrenchcoat // @littlebvbie // @anitababi // @sofiebstar // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @a-little-counter-esperanto

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #asian ofc #henry cavill fandom #sugar sugar #henry cavill x becky kim #becky kim #sugar daddy henry cavill #march 9th - alternate ending

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years ago

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Asking for Death

Note: So forever ago, @ectoblood and I had a conversation about a clone asking Danny to kill him and discussed, if a Danny clone would feel imperfect because he doesn’t share the same interests and dreams as his original? I actually expanded a little on those ideas from these two posts so have a ficlet.

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Daniel knows he was imperfect. It’s obvious; Father made that abundantly clear. The boy knows he was cloned from someone named Danny. And the older half ghost made it clear; he looked just like Danny and had all his powers. But that wasn’t enough. Father wants a better version of this Danny, someone who is a loving and obedient son but also with the personality and interests of the original. Perfect son, Father says, holding up this idealized version of the clone. He is to be the perfect son.

Father notices the difference and the man does not like it. He’s deeply dissatisfied because how dare his ‘perfect son’ not meet all of his expectations. His ideals t hat no one, not a clone or even the original Danny, could ever meet.

Father tries to force him in that direction. Daniel is a clone so of course, he likes space and video games and horror movies like his original. Daniel wants to be a good son, a perfect son. He really does. And he tries. He tries everything that Father offers him. And Daniel finds he likes some things that Danny does and doesn’t like other things. The clone also finds he has some of his own interests and dreams. He would rather watch birds in the garden than the stars. He’s rather draw than play video games. And horror movies...they scar him. He’d rather watch musicals.

Soon he’s always yelling at Daniel for some reason.

“Say yes sir, when you address me!”

“I… yes, Father. Sir.”

“I told you to clean the kitchen an hour ago. Why is it not done?!”

“I...I apologize, sir. I’ll...I’ll do that right now.”

“You call that an ecto energy attack? Pathetic!”

“Allow...allow me to try again. I will do better, please.”

He’s not obedient enough or powerful enough. He’s ungrateful, too quiet, too timid.

“Why do you never use the telescope I bought you?!”

“I...I have been busy with my studies. But...Tonight. Father, sir.”

Daniel never geeks out about space. The clone actually likes reading and birdwatching and hiking. He’s quieter and more thoughtful than his original.

All this burns in Vlad’s mind, his anger rising. How dare his perfect son behave like this? He was to be a perfect copy, in body and mind, yet perfectly loyal to his maker.

And for Daniel, all he wants is to make his Father happy. Maybe Father will be happy with him if he acts more like the person that Father wants him to be. So he tries to make himself like the things that Danny does and pretends to enjoy Danny’s interests. But he’s miserable, because space and horror movies don’t make him happy like reading in the garden and watching the birds does. He tries to be more outgoing and outspoken but that’s just not him. And Vlad can see that the clone is just putting on an act, trying to be more like Danny but failing (because he’s not Danny!).

So Vlad gets increasingly angry and dissatisfied because his ‘perfect’ son isn’t perfect. Vlad yells at him because he’s wrong, broken, a mistake, imperfect.

“Why should I even bother to keep a mistake like you around?”

“I… Father. Please. I’ll do better.”

“Be silent.”

“Father?”

“Never call me that again! Nothing as broken and imperfect as you deserves the privilege of calling me that. I am your Master, boy.”

“But-”

“I AM YOUR MASTER.”

“Yes… yes sir, Master.”

And Daniel believes him because Vlad is his Father, no, his Master and his Master has to be correct. If he was just more like Danny, then the man would love him. But he can’t be more like Danny. He’s not Danny and he’ll never be, no matter how hard he tries.

Vlad gave up on him, in his insanity thinking he just needs to try again. But he keeps the clone because he could be useful. Daniel isn’t Vlad’s son. He is tool. The man stops even trying to show him affection, increasingly having him run dangerous errands and be a lab rat for the older halfa. Vlad throws himself into making the next clone

“This one will work. It has too.”

“F- Master. Please, I’m hungry. Maybe I have some...some food.”

And the clone increasingly spirals into hopelessness and depression.

“Stop crying. You’re negatively affecting the data.”

“F...father. Please. St...stop.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

A cry of pain as Vlad digs the knife in deeper.

“Oh please. It barely even hurts.”

Weakened from hunger, thirst, and injury, Daniel escapes one day when Master is away. He...he is a failure. He...he is weak, he is horrid for begging Master to stop, for leaving now. But...he can’t...he can’t do this anymore. There is...there is only one way for the pain to end.

He arrives at a familiar building, one he’s seen through Master’s cameras. He rings the door bell and the front door opens to a familiar boy.

“Please. Please kill me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny refuses, of course. So Daniel tries to force his hand, attacking him. But Danny still refuses to hurt him, only defending himself so he can capture the other boy. Danny manages to get him in a thermos and soon after releases him in the ghost containment unit in the basement. He hates doing it but needs to talk to the other boy where the clone can’t hurt himself or anyone else. Danny manages to get some information from the near inconsolable boy.

“He keeps… he keeps hurting me.”

‘Who?”

“M...master.”

Eyes wide. “Vlad! Of course. Of course he cloned me again.”

Despite being stable and trying to be a good son, the clone’s still not what Vlad wants. He’s tried so hard to be what the older half-ghost wants but the man is still obsessed with having the ‘perfect’ son. And feeling like a failure and that his life is worthless, the clone wants to die and hopes that his original would have mercy enough to take him out of his misery.

After the speech, Danny is heartbroken watching the other boy weep. He feels helpless, not knowing what to do. He joins the other boy inside the unit, trying to comfort him. The clone still begs Danny to end him but the other halfa refuses.

“Why won’t you just do it?!”

“I will not hurt you. I don’t care how much you beg me or if you attack me again, I. will. not. hurt. you.”

“Please. I’m no one. I’m worthless. I can’t do this.”

“You’re not worthless. I promise. You’re not.”

“But I am. I AM.”

Danny grabs the other boy’s face. “Look at me. You are not worthless. You aren’t no one.”

“But-”

Danny cuts him off. “You’re family.” The clone’s mouth snaps. “I don’t care that we just met, or that you tried to hurt me. I made up my mind. You’re my family, no matter what. And I am going to find a way to help you. Vlad will never hurt you again.”

The other boy looks dumbstruck but Danny can tell he was listening. Just after Danny let go of his face, the clone fell forward, collapsing in Danny’s arms. He still wept but Danny thinks this clone did hear him. And he meant what he said. The boy he was hugging was family and Danny would always do everything in his power to help his family. Even if he wasn’t sure how to right now.

#Danny Phantom #my fic #Danny Clone #Danny Clones

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strawwritesfic · 3 years ago

Text

Tony Stark x Female!Childhood Friend!Reader: Brightest [Ch. 14]

Summary: [F Name] [L Name]: Tony’s Stark’s “invisible friend.” She’s invisible in all the wrong ways–at least until Tony spots her years after telling her to get out of his life. With Yinsen’s words in mind, Tony decides to pursue their lost relationship, only to find that [Name] might not be as willing as before. What Tony doesn’t know, however, is that the confusion of her life might end up the best of his.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: M (love triangles; friends with benefits; sexual situations; non-consensual sex with a significant other (note: I will mark this specific chapter accordingly); cheating on significant other portrayed in a positive light; verbal abuse from parents and significant others; toxic relationships of several kinds; rumors of an inappropriate relationship between an older man and his son’s teenage friend; set in between Iron Man 2 and Avengers (2012); references to characters not yet established in the MCU as of time of writing)

Pairings: Tony Stark/Reader; Justin Hammer/Reader; Tony Stark/Reader/Justin Hammer; Pepper Potts/Happy Hogan; past!Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Tag List: @imaginesfire; @ironmansuucks; @sleep-i-ness

Master List

Chapter 14: Life Lessons

You sat in the passenger seat of Tony’s car, watching the shops and the people pass by the windows while your heartbeat drummed in the palms of your sweaty hands. The usual parade of worries passed through your buzzing mind: What were you doing? Anyone might spot you riding along in a flashy vehicle like that one, tinted windows be damned. Anyone might see the car registered to Donald [L Name] loitering on a city block where you were nowhere to be found. Anyone might find you missing from home, and you had left a perfectly functional breadcrumb trail to follow right to your illicit deeds. It didn’t have to be your father that worked things out, or your mother, or even Justin. One nosy member of the entertainment media was all that was needed to blow down your erratically constructed house of cards.

“Would you relax?” Tony’s voice cracked into your anxious thoughts. “You’re sitting so stiff I’m getting constipated just looking at you. What?” he added in the face of your blank stare. “It was a joke.”

“I continue to wonder how you’ve attracted so many girls with that sense of humor,” you said.

“It’s the facial hair. The fabulously wealthy bit doesn’t hurt either. Or the costumed superhero gig.”

The chuckle you let out wasn’t intended to sound as halfhearted as it wound up coming out of your mouth. Tony’s familiar smirk faded as he glanced away from the road and right at you.

“Come on, princess. What’s got those lace panties of yours in a twist? I’m not a mind reader.”

You shook your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Okay, maybe I will. But how can I say either way if you won’t tell me what you’re thinking about?”

The reason you didn’t want to tell him was obvious: Tony already knew you were stupid—and then you’d gone and admitted to faking what credentials he had ever believed you had. But you were already skating on thin ice as it was. You had asked him for this favor. If you refused him anything, including something as simple as an answer to a question, he could put a stop to more than just this ride. That was a lesson you had learned a long, long time ago.

“Just thinking about the possibility of my parents finding out where I am,” you admitted.

“You mean who you’re with.”

“That, too.”

“For someone who’s been breaking the rules so often lately, you have an awfully loud conscience.” He looked at you again as he made another turn. “No matter. Just something we’ll have to work on quieting.”

The tingle up your spine told you just how much you liked that suggestion. From anyone else, it didn’t mean much, but from Tony, the idea of working on quieting your conscience was rife with possibilities. To no longer feel the weight of guilt over being an imperfect daughter, to be able to feel free to act with impunity would be a—

“Wait a minute. Where are we going?” you asked.

It had only just then dawned on you, preoccupied fool that you were, that this was not the route to Tony’s Malibu mansion. After all the times you had accompanied your parents there as a child—not to mention all the sneaking over there you’d done in your teen years—you had the pathway memorized. His first turn should have been your first clue.

Tony parked the car, turned it off, and offered you an unhelpful, “here,” before he hopped outside.

You stayed put. He made it all the way up to one of the several connected buildings, then seemed to realize you hadn’t accompanied him. His eyes met yours in a wordless stare off.

In your flustered state, it took you an embarrassing amount of time to fumble your seat belt off, after which you finally popped out into the heat of the day. Moving from the cool, dark of the car made the sunlight feel as though it were blistering your eyeballs. You moved blindly forward until Tony stopped you by grasping your arms.

“I thought you said we were going to your place,” you said.

“This is a place of mine. In a manner of speaking.” He pushed open the nearest door, looking at you expectantly. You eyed him with suspicion until he said, “Look, you’ve already made the mistake of coming with me to a secondary location. Might as well see what I’ve got up my sleeves, right?”

That was true. You also weren’t so attached to your life that you found yourself aghast at the thought of being murdered. Your father would probably enjoy the media storm that followed, and you could just imagine your mother carefully planning the way she would cry in each and every interview. So without further pushing, you stepped through the door into a cool, professional interior. An empty secretarial desk sat a few feet away, but before you could register any more than that, Tony followed you in and took your shoulders to guide you deeper inside the building.

“I think this space will do. It’s not too fancy, which will set the right tone.” A woman’s voice drifted down the hallway; you felt Tony’s finger’s tense through the fabric of your top, though he did not stop moving in the same direction. “Do you think security will be a problem?”

“Not at all. Obtrusive, maybe, with a place this size,” a man replied.

“Would putting security in plainclothes make it better?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer to be obtrusive. There are too many wackos out there that won’t double check that Tony was invited before they try to take their revenge. That guy’s made a lot of enemies in a few short years.”

At that time, you and the subject of the conversation rounded a corner that led into a much larger room, all wide, blank walls with pivoting lights hung in lines from the ceiling. Arriving revealed the owners of the two voices: Pepper Potts and a stout man with short, dark hair. They were deeply involved in whatever they were discussing, or were, until the man stopped Pepper mid-step to kiss her.

Tony cleared his throat. The two sprang apart in surprise, but the space between them was not enough to avoid a follow-up quip: “Please, no hanky-panky in my gallery. I like to watch the security camera footage when I can’t sleep and I don’t want to see this next time I do.”

Pepper quickly recovered. “It’s not your gallery,” she said.

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Your company’s name is on the lease, and your company is now my company. Or have you forgotten that you refused to accept my resignation?”

Tony came around you, and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Potts. Or of you and your head of security snogging so long as you agree to keep it off film. ”

“Good. What are you doing here anyway? Last I checked, this place hasn’t been used since we purchased it.”.

“Exactly. Thought now would be the perfect time to change that. Unless you two are planning to use it for something more than a private love nest?”

“Love nest?” Pepper echoed incredulously.

Mr. Head of Security looped an arm through hers, causing her to break off before she could build up a proper head of steam. “Maybe we shouldn’t have this discussion in front of strangers,” he said in a low voice.

Pepper blinked, looked around, and then spotted you standing next to and a little behind Tony. She did not flush or behave at all as though you’d seen anything she’d rather you not have. In fact, she simply smiled and moved forward to hold her hand out to you.

“[Name]. Good to see you again. How are you?”

“Fine, Miss Potts,” you said, just as mechanically as you shook her hand.

“Pepper, please. Oh! Let me introduce you. This is my boyfriend and head of security for Stark Industries, Happy Hogan.”

“It’s a pleasure,” said Happy, as he, too, shook your hand.

“Happy, this is [F Name] [L Name], Tony’s girlfriend.”

Your hand seized up inside of Happy’s. “I am not Tony’s girlfriend,” you managed to choke out.

“Is it really that bad a gig?” Tony demanded. “Try to sound more offended next time.”

Pepper moved smoothly on. “My mistake. Happy, this is [Name], Tony’s…”

She left a space for you to fill in. Unfortunately, your mind went just as blank in that moment. What could you say? You couldn’t tell this woman you were sleeping around with her ex in exchange for favors! Word would get out! Pepper seemed nice, but her feelings about Justin weren’t any more favorable than Tony’s, and once he took over your family’s business—well, she was a professional if you’d ever seen one. It would be downright dumb of her not to leak information of your chicanery, and Pepper Potts was not dumb. Up and down you pumped Happy’s arm, up and down and up and down, until Tony came once again to your rescue:

“Friend. A childhood friend.”

“…Tony’s friend,” Pepper finished.

“Good to meet you,” you said in a rush, but it was far too late for you to make a good impression. Happy extracted his hand from yours with a smile you suspected was forced.

“Yes, I remember him talking about you on our way to the airport the other night,” he said. He slipped both of his hands into his jacket pockets, as though worried you might snatch one up again. Or maybe just to dry them off. The stress of the situation had not quelled the sweating of your palms.

“So, are you two really planning to use this for something?” Tony interjected, before you could ask Happy what he meant.

Pepper and Happy exchanged a look.

“What do you want it for?” Happy asked.

“Top secret. Need to know basis only. Ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend doesn’t need to know.”

Happy looked ready to argue, but Pepper silenced him with a soft hand on one of his broad shoulders. “I supposed we could hold this at one of the more upscale venues. But Tony, if this is about Iron Man—”

“It’s not,” Tony said quickly. “You’re going to love this, Pep. Totally on the up and up. I swear.”

Her eyes moved to linger on you. You did your best not to shy away from her sharp gaze. Why did you feel like she was trying to work out whether or not you could rein Tony in if need be? No way in hell could that happen. After all, you had no more idea of what he wanted from this building than she did. It felt like an entire minute passed before Pepper finally let out a sharp breath, turning her attention back to him.

“Fine. But you owe me a favor,” she said.

“Anything.”

“Meeting in my office, ten o’ clock tomorrow.”

“Not that anything.”

She smiled as she motioned for Happy to follow her toward the rear entrance. “You already said anything. All I want is the finished blueprints for your tower and the generator. If you actually show up with what we need, you won’t have to listen to me nag you about it anymore. Happy, do you think we can make to the alternate location before my three o’ clock?”

Happy’s answer was lost behind the shut door. You stared after them with the nerves already rising in your veins. Oh, God. That had gone terribly. Pepper had no reason to believe you weren’t an idiot before. Even your father would be able to find a reason for you to not look stupid in front Stark Industries’ current CEO!

“Hey. You ready to get started?”

You snapped back to the present with a start to find Tony staring expectantly at you for the second time in under an hour. Warmth crept into your face. The way he was looking at you was not the way he looked at Pepper. There was a softness then that vanished the minute she did. Now he was back to business, back to work, back to dealing with you.

“Ready to start what?” you asked uncertainly.

He gestured around the room with a flourish. “This, princess, is about to be turned into your photo gallery.”

“My-my-”

“Gallery, yeah,” he said when your shock overrode your ability to form complete sentences. “I know you weren’t all gung ho about it when I brought it up before, but now…Figure it’s the perfect thing. You like to take pictures, right?”

“Yes.”

“You want to do something you’re good at for a living, right?”

“Yes.”

“There you go. You supply the art. I supply the venue. No one has to know anything we don’t want them to.”

All of sudden, you found it a beautiful idea. All of those pictures sitting on your computer, ready to be found and used against you at a moment’s notice, instead out for display. You wouldn’t have to hide them anymore. People could see them. Real people. People who might not dismiss them, like Justin had, when you’d first picked up a camera.

The shining bubble of hope burst as quickly as it had come to life.

“That still doesn’t help me convince my dad I’m not worthless,” you said.

“No, but,” Tony placed a hand on your shoulder, “it’ll prove to you you’re not worthless. I’ve seen some of your work. It’s good. Other people will think so, too.”

The bubble returned. You glanced around at all the bare walls once more. Maybe this wasn’t the out you’d wanted from Tony, but it was an out. That was enough for now. Still something bothered you: His offer was good. His offer was kind. And in exchange for what? Some lame rebound sex with a girl he used to know?

“Are you sure you want to do this?” you asked him. “There’s still time to back out. Maybe you can still get Pepper back.”

Tony rolled his eyes as he stuck his hand out toward you. “First of all, you approached me with this idea. Secondly, you keep bringing up Pepper, and I’m liable to think you’re jealous. We’re over. I don’t love Pepper anymore. Now, it’s up to you: Deal or no deal?”

The way you eyed his hand momentarily was entirely for show. You had no dignity left to concern yourself with, and he knew that just as well as you did. This was a chance you would have jumped at even if there had been a few shreds left to you.

“Deal,” you said, shaking his hand.

His escape from your grip was much swifter than Happy’s. “Great. Come on. Let me show you around. Tell you what I’ve got in mind.”

You trotted after him, though your steps were a little less eager than perhaps they should have been. The guilt of disobeying your parents had evaporated as it always did in the light of Tony’s presence. Now it was replaced by a different kind of guilt entirely. Tony said he didn’t love Pepper anymore. Maybe he believed it. But you had seen the way he looked at her, the way his fingers felt against your shoulders when he heard her talking to another man.

Many years ago, you had learned the hard way just what it meant to get in between Tony and something that he wanted. It meant heartbreak. As you listened to Tony talk about the building’s situation, you thought back to your breakfast with Rhodey. You had told him then you were fine being the rebound girl. Though that had been only hours ago, you wondered now if you had meant it as badly as you wanted to.

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vasiktomis · 3 years ago

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Pomegranate, Chapter 18: Quiet Earth, Part II.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here! Notes: Co-angels @honeysides, @shallow-gravy, and @lilwritingraven all provided immense support while I toiled over this chapter, which I am forever immensely thankful for. Never would've been able to give people second-hand embarrassment like this without y'all enabling me. As always, thank you for reading!

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence. Sexually-explicit content. An angry cult leader with performance anxiety. You know the drill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The comparative tranquillity of Seed Ranch had a way of making Cora feel like time was moving slower than it should have. In all seriousness, the chain-reaction of their escape from Fall's End was still firing, but without the gunshots and the shouting, approaching the property felt more like being in stasis. It was too still. Too unassuming.

The Project members awaiting John on the steps of the property were vigilant about a thorough, yet strangely distant reception of the man, as if they’d been hard-wired to anticipate his moods; warmly welcoming him home, but giving the man such a wide berth that one might have assumed he was carrying a live grenade.

Cora supposed he was at least consistent in his inconsistency; just as volatile toward his allies as he was his enemies. She wondered if the serenity of the ranch was a natural element of John's sect; whether they simply cared enough about the man to know his boundaries to the inch - or whether such a light-hearted environment was manufactured deliberately and specifically around his temper.

The Deputy’s presence did well to break the façade, however. It brought with it a range of cautious exchanges from the followers that ushered them into the home; some in fear of re-living the bedlam of her bunker escape, and others casting stern looks between her bare midriff and their leader’s refusal to leave her side.

She noticed it, too - how he stuck to her like Velcro.

It was only after she was administered pain medication and had her wound dressed (they’d been gracious enough to re-dress the haphazard bandaging on her hand, too) that John abruptly took his leave, excusing himself to apparently more pressing matters. Cora was simply confined to the foyer, drifting in and out of snoozing consciousness on one of the couches in front of the fireplace.

All in all, the mental and physical exhaustion of conceding defeat to the Project proved in all honestly a little boring. The blonde had expected she might break down once she was left alone. It seemed about the right time for it, and yet, all she felt was tired. Was it the cult who had done this to her? Run her so ragged that only anger remained?

Ideas of escape waxed and waned with cultists moving in and out of the space periodically to check in on her, lessening in their hostility with each passing visit until their warnings not to cross them turned into beratements over her refusal to sit still, for the love of Joseph.

In her restlessness, she sorted through thoughts and memories, deciding on the conclusion that while yes, today had been devastating, she’d long since thrown away her capacity to recognise it. It had been so long since she’d spared herself any emotion beyond rage that everything else felt only vaguely different. She might’ve broken down, had she not forgotten how to do such a thing. Trying only gave her a stomach ache, and so she resigned herself to waiting it out, growing more and more impatient with how undramatic this aftermath had turned out to be. How her captor had left her so unceremoniously after being declared victor.

Maybe he was similarly nonchalant about all this.

...No. That was impossible. He'd probably just excused himself to go dance a celebratory little jig. Perhaps he'd stepped through a hornet's nest in doing so, or been ambushed by coyotes. Something beyond mere choice that warranted the excuse to disappear like that.

The skylights in the ceiling changed hues over the course of what felt like hours, however, and John did not return.

It felt weird, being in his home without him present. It felt weird being fussed over by house staff who muttered for her to stop picking at her bandages while she lay across his furniture, warmed by his fire. It felt weird that her exposure to Sharky and Jess had finally led her to identify that the strange smell she’d always detected in the Baptist’s home was unmistakably raw cannabis.

Eventually, the clatter of plates and bubbling conversation drew the Deputy away from the couch and around to the other end of the foyer. The gigantic table she’d only ever seen stacked high with bibles in the past now carried an assortment of food, picked at by passing cultists like a barbeque line while they chattered away.

Watching them almost felt like watching her family back in Brooklyn. Waiting out the messy crossed streams of conversation in hiding until the coast was clear and the kids could swarm the reward of food without the labour of having to hang out with the adults. It was strange, how they mimicked a family, when the only similarity Cora could gauge between them were the logos printed on their clothes.

The spying didn't last. One pair of eyes flickering to her quickly became ten, and Cora's heart rate skyrocketed. Instinct kicked in. Eyes combing over each Peggie around the table for weapons. Hands reaching for her own absent holster and emptied pockets.

The group did not respond in-kind. Apparently, they were too preoccupied with loading up their plates to deal with a leader of the Peggie-killing movement in their space.

Cora didn’t buy it. Not straight away. Not until her gaze darted around the rest of the room, weighing up which of the Baptist’s gaudy home decorations might be most effective at bone-crushing and-

“Look who’s got her colour back.”

…

What?

The same cultist who spoke up - a woman - one of the group who’d been at the church earlier, gestured at the table. “Hungry?”

What?

One Peggie with a particularly heavy beard slid a plate over the table toward Cora. Two younger girls over his shoulder giggled to each other.

“Do you think we should offer her a shirt?”

“I’m not that brave. Leave it to John.”

“Anything fresh is all from the garden.” The bearded Peggie spoke, pulling Cora’s scowl away from them with a smile.

She inspected the table. Undersized apples and strawberries. Home-grown, by their imperfections. Multi-coloured silver beet and slightly burned sweetcorn. Homemade bread piled an end of its own, surrounded by a selection of preserves in blank jars. All of it, against her will, served as a reminder that she’d only ingested coffee today. This was bizarre, but she was hungry. Not to mention the Resistance diet consisted mostly of canned spaghetti.

Gingerly, the Deputy picked at one of everything, and while the group of cultists continued chatting, she stood awkwardly by on the side-line, trying to figure out the most efficient means of eating corn while still maintaining a hostile air about her and lot letting slip that it was fucking delicious.

Apparently tearing into the thing wasn't adequately frightening. The same talkative man split from the party to approach her, ignoring the roll of her eyes. A spot of shine glided over his bald head while he moved around the table, and as he neared, he gave her a moment to squint at him.

There was something familiar about that overbearing air.

“We’ve... -”

“Met.” He confirmed. “Briefly.”

“When?”

“Months ago now. I, uh, almost baptised you.”

Cora chewed the inside of her cheek, considering that. Somewhere in the back of her mind the memory of wet rocks beneath her feet swelled with the lapping of shallow waters. Just tap my arm if you need to come up for air.

He shrugged at her silence. “You were pretty Blissed-”

“No, I remember you.” The Deputy mumbled, turning her attention back to her food, intent on keeping it there. It didn’t last long. A hand stretched out before her, and with a laboured, full-mouthed sigh, she shook it.

“Andrew. Glad to see you again.” He offered.

“Okay.”

The silence was as painful as she’d hoped to make it, but tragically, he was resilient.

"Andy works, too-"

"Andrew's syllabically identical and perfectly sufficient. Where's your boss?"

“Upstairs, working.”

“And he’s asked not to be disturbed.” One woman interjected. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Cora blinked at that. Then, plate still in-hand, she spun on her heel and made for the staircase.

Behind her, the group exchanged a collective look of panic.

"Ma'am?"

"Sister?"

"Hey!"

“We’re not allowed up there!”

“Perfect." Cora grumbled back, already ascending the steps. "Then you don’t have to worry about following me.”

The second storey of Seed ranch was dead still in comparison to downstairs. A hallway presented a quiet stretch of closed doors and branching hallways that led out to balconies, part way between residential space and tactical efficiency.

Back in the day, she’d assumed the Baptist just had a thing for doors. Looking around at the space now, it was clear that John was well-aware of how many enemies he’d generated thanks to his work.

The crackle of a radio up ahead drew the Deputy’s attention, and as she drew closer, a hushed curse.

“Pick up. Come on, pick up.” John murmured. Then, in a brand new tone: “Joseph. Brother. I need you to call me back. Please, it’s been - just...whenever you can. I’ll be here.”

She found him beyond a cracked doorway, hunched over a desk. His fingers smoothed through damp hair hair, tugging, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

The door creaked as Cora pressed against it, and in the time it took for her to cringe at the noise, John had sat up straight, shifting out of whatever private mood she’d spied him in. He blinked up at her, inhaling deeply, reeking of uncertainty.

She felt it too. Of all the scenarios to catch him alone in, the blonde hadn’t expected that she’d be brandishing sourdough.

A moment passed. Both of them trying to feel out this new territory.

“Hey.” Cora eventually muttered.

John exhaled. “Hi.”

“Brought food.”

He looked away. “Deputy, pleased as I am that you’re making yourself at home, I asked for privacy.”

“Since when did you value privacy?” Cora asked, pushing into the room and seating herself on the desk. The tired irritation on John’s face when she set the plate in front of him was worth the day of boredom already. He glanced up at her, and she responded with a wolfish smile.

“You have corn in your teeth.” He mumbled, relenting, posture slackening. “And you’re getting blood flakes on my desk.”

The Deputy tried not to look so hurried about picking. “Isn’t that a garnish in Japan?”

“That’s fish. You’re thinking bonito.”

“I know what I’m thinking.”

Another pause.

“Is that what you thought you were filleting in the church? Bonito?”

Annoyed silence.

“It was Nick.”

Finally, John scoffed, glaring at her, offering a reluctant nod when she flashed her teeth to confirm she’d gotten rid of the food in her teeth. “You are so funny.”

“Thank you. Eat something.”

Cora watched the man regard the plate in front of him.

“How generous of you to take a bite out of everything first." His gaze landed on the shredded corn cob. "Except for that. That, you demolished."

"Yeah, well." Cora plucked up the same piece of bread he'd been reaching for. "Why're you hiding up here? Thought maybe you would've starting laying on the torment by now. Not...brooding."

"Brooding."

"Yes."

"Pardon me for needing to adjust to having a murderer in my home."

Cora hummed at that, casting a look around the room. "Took you about 2 seconds to adjust to a murderer's tongue in your mouth-"

"Deputy." John spat, pushing the plate away from him in a final display of denial. "Please, leave. I'm busy."

“No, you’re not.” Cora bit back. “I want to know what your plan is. Now you’ve got me, what’s next? What’s the point in me sitting around on your couch all afternoon? You don’t leave me alone, ever, and now that I’m here you want me to make myself scarce?”

The Baptist's jaw rolled in annoyance, and when Cora shifted her legs to face him easier, he jerked away from her, avoiding contact. “You’ve grown too accustomed to being in the spotlight." He grumbled.

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“What’s your deal? What's the plan? What happens now?”

“The plan is to get back to work. My apologies if your assumption was that you were the main goal of this valley, but there are dozens of things that require my attention-“

“Like sitting by the phone for your brother for hours?”

John paused at that. Something old and familiar flashed over his expression, and he stood from his seat. “You’re jealous.” He accused.

Cora’s lip curled, ears running hot. “You’re wasting time, and I want to know why.”

“Is that why you're nosing through my business? If I gave you details - what I'm working on - what the next step is - is that a strategic win for you?" His palms slid against the desk, planted on either side of her legs. "Or is my lack of undivided attention so awful to you that anything to help rationalise it would do?"

Something in her celebrated that look on his face. The renewed confidence in his attitude. It enraged her, but it was scores better than his absence.

She scowled, but she didn’t pull away when John leaned down into her space. It didn’t work the way it used to. Now it didn’t feel close enough. Now she wanted to part her legs and pull his hips against her.

It was a discomfort she’d never known before, and now, even with her wounds dulled, it almost felt painful. She wanted to know what the plan was. She wanted to plan an escape. She wanted to have just this one little victory if this was the end of the line. If he was going to convert her, then she could at least undermine him by ruining his faithfulness. It might destabilise him enough that she could find some advantage to getting back to Fall’s End. That would make it okay, if it were all driven by strategy or revenge. Her curiosity would be sated.

But then, as if he could hear her thoughts from the sheer volume of their demands, John drew away from her.

“You should shower.” He muttered quickly, snatching the radio from the desk. “Across the hall, on the right.”

He didn’t look at her as he left the room. He didn’t look back when he disappeared down the hall and made for the stairs.

Cora glared ahead at the space he'd left emptied.

What a fucking coward.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Despite her soured mood, Cora had done as she was ordered. She spent all of two minutes rinsing the old blood from her skin, and another ten reflecting in quiet judgement over the bottle of 3-in-1 sitting in the shower caddy with her. Maybe she should've allowed herself the opportunity to warrant having to bathe here earlier. Maybe she'd have developed more of a sense of disgust for the man if she had.

The clothes she’d arrived in were still stained, but it was an improvement. Less of a sensory distraction while she sorted through her thoughts, at least.

While the Deputy dried off and re-dressed, the haze of pain relief began to lighten, and she was able to focus on cobbling together some kind of a plan to get herself out of Seed Ranch. She might have conceded defeat, but the hideous tattoo marking her sternum didn't mean she was suddenly going to behave. Especially if her captor was refusing to even the playing field and let her know what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Whatever John was keeping from her, it was urgent enough that his entire demeanour had changed. What did he need from Joseph so desperately? If it had anything to do with the Resistance, or if had anything to do with Joseph coming here, the Deputy intended to put a stop to it.

If John Seed’s intention was to avoid her, he should’ve thought twice before locking her in his home. Ensuring that he’d keep his distance, however, was the easy part.

The real goal would be getting him away from that radio.

Descending the stairs, Cora found John in solitary silence in the foyer. There was no sign of the Peggies serving up supper anymore, and the dining table had been cleared.

John was alone, sitting on the couch by the fireplace with his head in his hands, no less agitated than when she’d first found him. The hand-held sat close by on his left. In front of him on the coffee table was a landline phone that hadn’t been there previously.

He didn’t notice her at first. To his credit, she didn’t announce herself until a creak of the stairs did it for her. Then, the snap of his gaze toward her was instant. Hyper-vigilant.

Cora reached the first floor. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Minding the perimeter.” John answered, making space for her to take a seat but keeping himself faced away. “You’ll be pleased to know that your troop is still yet to be captured. Little doubt they’re aware that you’ve been brought here. Even less that they’re on the hunt for you, given the state Fall’s End was in when we left. Boshaw seemed happy enough to blow up half the town to get to you. Shorty."

There was no mistaking his bitterness at the nickname.

When she approached, Cora found a folded Project sweater sitting where she intended to. John’s jaw rolled when she slowed to glare at the thing.

Still, he refused to look at her.

“Put it on. You’ll freeze.”

“I’d rather not look like one of you when the Resistance comes to rescue me.”

“You are one of us, now. Almost. Once you’ve pledged yourself to the Project, they needn’t consider it a rescue effort any longer.”

Cora huffed in response, pulling the sweater over her head and slumping into the couch. “You sound a lot less happy about that than I’d expect.”

“I’m fine.”

Stonewalling. Now she was beginning to understand how annoying it was when she did it.

“I’ve made enough of a career out of it to know what you look like when you’re not fine.” The Deputy remarked.

“I think I preferred it when I was asking all the questions.”

“I think you preferred me when I was tied up in a basement.”

That comment caught a glance. Amusement, unnoticed on her part.

“So, what - you’ve been sitting beside a radio all day and somehow weren’t inclined to terrorise me? Or were you just that busy arranging flowers for my Atonement?”

“Are you feeling stood up?” John asked. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were projecting, Deputy.”

Her ears flushed hot. Immediate rage flooded pitted in her stomach, but as much as the blonde would have liked to get up and stomp elsewhere, she had little other option without any better ideas.

Right now, this was all she had.

Channelling her inner Adelaide.

Cora inhaled, swallowing back a cursory retort. “Both work.”

In her periphery, John ceased all movement, staring straight ahead.

All she had to do was pressure him enough to move away. Then it was over. She’d been rejected by him before - anticipating it happening again shouldn’t have needed to feel as gross as it did.

“Maybe I think you got scared, not having me under your control.” She went on, finding the words already prepared on her tongue as she turned toward him. “You seemed like you were enjoying it when it was you-”

“-and then you punched me in the face.” John cut in stiffly.

“Didn’t deter you.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s against the rules.” The clip in his tone signalled a warning. Then, an impatient sigh escaped his nostrils. “And you said it yourself: it was a mistake.”

He wasn’t going to look at her. There was no pulling at his attention while he could hide her in his periphery.

“Is that why you’re upset?” She made a quiet move to touch her fingers to his forearm, but he pulled away with a scoff.

“If you’re trying to buy time -”

“Are you frustrated?” Cora pressed on. His shifting had given her enough leeway to get herself between him and the phone, and she took her opportunity, sliding down to kneel between the couch and the coffee table. Directly in front of him. “Knowing what people say about you?”

John finally inclined his head to sneer down at her, but if he had anything he was intending to say, it was silence by the bob of his Adam's apple. A gulp. His breathing was the only audible sound in the room, barring herself; shallow and staggered.

Almost there.

Cora kept her eyes on his. She wouldn’t lie - despite sitting at his feet like this, she could still gauge the power that she held. That while, yes, there was a spark of disappointment that came with watching him ignore her advances, there was also some odd thrill in watching the man who’d made multiple attempts on her life struggle so much. Knowing that, even with her unarmed and kneeling - even with all his connections and soldiers, and everything he'd done to her - he was powerless.

He’d taken her freedom, but she could get that back. She’d compromised his loyalty to dogma. Nearly made the tallied notches on his arm into a lie. He'd have to start again from the ground-up. He'd be middle-aged before he found the same progress.

“Now that I’m atoned. Now that no one’s watching.” She sat up, drawing closer to his thigh, inwardly cursing at his refusal to move away this time. “All that work you put into catching me, and now what? Nothing?”

“Deputy.” John growled, low and dangerous.

“You want this.” Cora concluded, watching the flush of red bloom from beneath his collar and the flex of his jaw while he grit his teeth.

“There are bigger things at stake right now-”

“And even now that you have me, you’re too scared to do anything about it.”

John inhaled a swift breath, averting his gaze. “That’s beside the point.”

“You want this."

“Would you quit it? You’re wrong.”

Finally, the Baptist shoved himself out of the couch, back-stepping several paces until he was half-way across the room. Once he’d gotten himself to a safe distance, he regarded the Deputy once more, gaze cold and angry while she cycled through unknown victory and equally unknown disappointment.

He wasn’t going to be made to give in.

“You haven’t been atoned. Not yet.” John breathed, turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen.

Cora stared at the doorway he'd escaped through. Now was her chance.

One...two...three...

Okay. He wasn't coming back in a hurry. She'd successfully scared him off.

There was no time to waste.

While the faucet ran in the next room, Cora twisted around, snatching the phone upside down and hastily unclipping the cable from the device. The dial-tone cut to silence. Communication blocked, but cord hooked up to the damn thing was already conspicuous without evidence of tampering. She couldn't just discard the cable.

There was no way John wouldn’t notice its absence when he returned, and so the Deputy did what any effective home invader would do.

She bit down on the cord, close as she could to the adapter, chewing hard until grinding wire snapped between her teeth. When she plugged the cable back in and set the phone straight again, the machine remained dead, but intact.

Good. That'd buy some time.

The radio was next. Rather than switch the device off, Cora tuned it a few notches, finding a dead station and placing it back right where John had left it.

Done.

Sabotage successful. If Joseph had any intention of making a call-back soon, he’d be going unheard. There was no telling how long it would last, but unless the Baptist was stocked on landlines, half of his communications were disabled entirely.

Cora exhaled, inviting in the momentary relief. Being kept here was one thing. Having to be in the same room as Joseph Seed was another dimension entirely.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She called, rising to a stand and following the Baptist’s trail.

No response.

When Cora entered the kitchen, John was dabbing his neck with wet hands. The moment he sensed her, he grumbled a sharp curse, bracing his hands against the counter to keep from facing her.

“Is this the plan? We just sit and wait?”

His shoulders seized. “...Yes.”

Cora stalked past him, finding a counter of her own to lean against, finding her own patience dwindling. Coiling irritation at the very notion of Joseph having so much sway over the Baptist that he could seemingly halt time.

“So what’s the point in taking me? In bringing me here?” She spat.

“Disregarding our personal rapport, it’s no small matter, having you here.” John ground out. “My family will want to know-”

“Have you tried calling Jacob?”

Something twitched in John's expression. A button, pushed. Dispelled rage.

“The Father will-”

There was no holding back the snarl that brewed in her throat. Hitting its boiling point. He did have that much sway over the man. They were sitting here in stasis, all because of him.

“Are you that fucking sad? We’re stuck here just because you need to hear Joseph tell you how well you did? A whole fucking resistance effort just blew up half of Fall’s End. You caught me. Dozens of people are dying, and all you can do is sit by the phone?” Cora demanded, scowling while his muscles trembled. “Are you serious?!”

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, CORA?!” John bellowed, head snapping around to fix her in place, eyes blazing. The sheer volume of him froze her to the spot. "Did you assume that you were somehow different from anyone else the Project takes in? That your place here; that you're even alive had anything other to do than Joseph requesting it? Did you think that you'd somehow slipped through every possible crack in the system for any reason beyond this path being carved specifically by the Father? Because, frankly speaking, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

The Deputy didn't reply. She couldn't.

Not that it would've mattered.

John, it seemed, was far from finished.

“You're so selfish. One moment you insist on making your own salvation impossible. The next, you assume you can simply start calling shots." He bit, voice already hoarse from yelling, but with no less poison. "You think I enjoy waiting around for whatever order comes next? That I enjoy you waltzing around my home, eating my food, whining that I'm not doing enough for you? After all the wrath you’ve wrought - after all the death and the destruction - you’re still so fucking entitled to assume that I’d throw aside my loyalty to the Father. All just because you’re here, and not even by fucking choice.”

Cora swallowed, calming the nerves that egged her on to snap back at him. "I didn't - I don't - "

After a moment, the hostility thinned. John's shoulders sagged.

"I know it's not optimal. It might not seem like it, but we're lucky. Things could be a lot worse for both of us, but on Joseph's order, they're not. It's his wisdom that made you being here even possible. So yes; the plan right now is that we sit and wait."

John turned toward her, then. He looked positively miserable.

“What happened last night…can’t happen again.” He explained. “It doesn’t matter that you’re here now. I’m the Baptist. Joseph is my brother. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, and there’s nothing he won’t find out. We need to do everything we can to stay on his good side.”

He did have a point. As much as she wanted John to be the last of her enemies, he was only one of three, and likely the lowest ranked of the Project's leaders. Pushing John to defy a higher power was unwise.

Her job was done, anyway. There was no more need to pursue him. Curiosity didn't matter. Want didn't matter. No meant no.

“Okay.” The Deputy croaked finally, nodding.

John raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She attempted a smile. "Water under the bridge."

He returned the expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

They both stood still, watching each other for a long moment.

Then Cora’s heart sank, and she felt herself detach from the counter. John did the same, marching toward her while she advanced on him with equal urgency.

Her fingers found the front of his shirt just as his found her face, and his mouth was on hers in a heartbeat. For all her rationalisations, the blonde reciprocated immediately, clutching him closer, humming into his kiss with a pitch she’d normally find mortifying.

“I’m sorry.” John breathed, hardly breaking away long enough to put the words together before he was kissing her again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cora nodded, barely able to formulate a response against him. Every word she reached for melted on her tongue, completely enraptured by the heat of his mouth and his desperate hands not knowing whether they wanted to grip at her hips or keep cradling her jaw.

She didn’t even know she’d been walked backward until she felt the cold countertop hit the small of her back, and then - much more pleasantly - the warmth of John’s body pressing against her front. She gasped, winding a hand into his damp hair and slipping beneath his shirt with the other, pawing at whatever skin she could access and drawing another one of those pitiful sounds she’d pulled from him last night.

“Wasn’t - ah, fuck,” the Deputy choked, not anticipating the Baptist’s impatience when he dipped his head to kiss her neck, arms coiling tight around her waist, “Wasn’t a mistake.”

"Fuck no." John moaned against her throat, tongue barely darting out to taste her skin. “Won’t hit me this time?”

“Not this time.”

He pulled back then, leaving a half inch of aching dead space between them. Swallowing back a pant and looking at her directly. Like he was weighing up every possible pro and con about this scenario. Cora stilled, trading hesitation with the man, sobering for all but a few fearful seconds.

“If you don’t-”

“Don’t.” John breathed. “Just let me commit this to memory.”

“I mean it.”

“Deputy, you have no idea - how many times I’ve -...how much damage this could do."

Cora shifted under his gaze, searching impatiently to find which direction his resolve would fall. "I can keep a secret."

Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, breaking through apprehension.

“You want this.” She murmured.

“God, yes.”

He kissed her deeply, holding her steady through the shiver sent through her as his tongue slid across her bottom lip. Then, as soon as it felt like they were picking back up where they’d left off, he pulled back again. The grin he flashed at her frustration pulled a little noise of protest out of the blonde, and when she chased his mouth, he held her still.

“For the sake of being on the same page,” He began, “you do, too, right?.”

What a ridiculous assertion. What kind of answer was he hoping to gain from that? He already had her consent; did he really need the pride of knowing how badly she wanted this too? It wasn’t even something she’d actively considered, anyway. She’d have to think about-

“Yeah.” Cora breathed, ragged. “Yes.”

John settled into a more comfortable smile, and while the eye contact wasn’t something she could uphold for long, Cora mirrored the expression.

Then, a sigh rolled out of the Baptist. “Thank fucking Christ.”

She didn’t have time to chuckle at that.

His mouth was back on her in a instant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What’d I tell you?” Jess hissed, looking Sharky up and down while she waded toward him through torn up asphalt and cement debris. “What’d I tell you about making a fucking idiot of yourself?”

Sharky traded a look with Hurk at that. The man was nearly unrecognizable from all the dust clinging to him.

“I thought we did pretty good.” The arsonist defended.

“The town’s half blown-up, dipshit.”

“We did real good.” Hurk weighed in.

He wasn’t wrong. They didn’t even kill nobody they weren’t supposed to. There’d been bumps in the road, sure, but all in all, things hadn’t been a total disaster. Once you translated that into the kind of situation they were in, total disaster was actually kind of...well, awesome. Especially once the Cougars had arrived.

Sharky hadn’t heard word from over East since they’d left, but things must’ve been mighty fucking boring up there at the County Jail for a whole fucking convoy to come charging through town.

He’d never seen so many baseball jerseys in one place, let alone jerseys toting assault rifles.

There wasn’t any chasing leftover Peggies out of town once they’d shown up. It was a purge so quick and so direct that the blonde understood a little better why Shorty had been so pissed about not getting the extra help earlier.

Everyone had found their way back to each other pretty quick once the chaos had died down. As luck would have it, Kim had been walking Boomer when Eden’s Gate had arrived. She’d managed to get a couple of the general store clerks to safety and found a cattle shed to wait out the fight about a mile up the road.

It might’ve been the adrenaline getting him going, but Sharky could’ve sworn her tits were even bigger than yesterday.

Grace and Mary May reunited quick, but disappointingly did not start making out. Instead, they helped Kim cart Nick and Pastor Jerome off to Dr. Lindsey.

After they’d rounded up any remaining hostages, the team made their way back to Sharky as the stand-in replacement for the Deputy. That part didn’t surprise him. He was best mate, after all...after the dog, at least. The part that did surprise him was that the Cougars seemed to do that same.

Tracey surveyed the wreckage on her way toward the group with Sheriff Whitehorse and that tight-lipped Marshal in-tow.

“Jerome says Stammos got carted out with John’s people.” The woman announced. “They took the road down to the airport.”

“Then unless they’re plannin’ on looping back around, they’re probably headed to the ranch.” Adelaide replied.

“Probably a smart move after last time.” Hurk added.

The Sheriff inclined his head, incredulous. “Last time?”

“Long story.”

Sharky watched the disappointment pass over Whitehorse’s face. Must’ve felt shitty; losing all of his employees to the cult.

“I tried chasin’ ‘em down, Sheriff.” He said.

“And given how you’re dressed, Boshaw, it’s no surprise they were so quick to leave.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jess asked.

Tracey was already turning back around, headed for the truck she’d arrived in. “We keep liberating.” She answered. “Stammos called us to take back the valley, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“John’s ranch is almost the Southernmost point before the border.” Whitehorse elaborated. “If we do everything right, he won’t have many friends left to help him cross it once he gets word of us coming.”

“Sounds like the same plan as last time.” Adelaide commented.

“No stone unturned.” He affirmed. “Same as last time. Take care of John the same way we took care of Faith and bring our girls home.”

The Marshal, however, didn’t look as happy about that option. Dude always hated taking the long way around. “And what if John’s taken care of your Deputy before we get there?”

Sharky exchanged a look with the others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John’s fingers tangled in Cora's hair, hurriedly tugging out the damp tie and wincing when a caught snag caused the Deputy to hiss. “Sorry. Sorry.” He muttered, breathless.

“You’re - you’re certain this is okay.” She huffed against him. If there was any acknowledgement of the apology on her part, it was only in how she clawed at his vest, dragging his mouth back to hers.

“Not at all.”

“What about your -” A gasp briefly did the trick of silencing her, but then: “What about your brothers-”

“Please don’t mention my brothers right now.” John whined.

Cora eyed him. “Door’s locked?”

John stifled a chuckle at that. “No, why would it be?”

Cora eyed him dangerously.

“I’m kidding." He defended. "What, you think I let people walk in and out of here unannounced?"

“Fucking prick.”

“Obviously, I’m kidding. You’re a-aaah…” His retort dwindled when the blonde’s hands slid down his front, stopping short of the hem of his vest and creeping back up to his collar again. He pulled back to glare. “A captive.”

“And you’re sensitive.” She replied, simply.

“7 years is a long time.” John’s own hands fell from her hair, slipping down her sides until she couldn’t feel them anymore. “Not sure how much I can...handle.” That last phrase came cautiously. Awkwardly.

The blonde’s fingers traced back down while she listened, more quizzical than apprehensive at the warning.

To her, that sounded more like a challenge.

"What." John grunted at the smirk that played on her lips.

"Just the audacity of you asking for mercy."

A shiver worked its way out of him when she went lower, ghosting over his hips and then back up again. Deliberately avoiding the ever-insistent graze of an erection against her stomach, sporadically tensing against denim confinement whenever her hands got close. Every reminder of it sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Seriously-”

“Mr. Seed, either we carry on like this, or you fuck me. Right now.” The Deputy spoke low, watching the Baptist’s pupils dilate more with each word. “Either way, we’ll find out how much you can handle, but 3 years is also a long time. I’d hate for only one of us to break a streak.”

John stared, dumbfounded.

Then, his hands reappeared, tugging around her waist, wrenching her up and onto the countertop. Her wasted no time pushing her knees apart, drawing near enough between her legs that she could reach for his belt, but not close enough that she could find the friction she was looking for. His fingers pawed her thighs, then gripped hard when her fingertips ghosted over the bulge that impatiently jutted between them.

“Ah. Shit.” He shuddered, folding down to balance his forehead in the crook of her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Cora found that she liked the idea of that. Ten times the amount of experience she had, and yet here he was, barely functional.

She pressed her palm against him, content with the hitch in his breath and the little jerk of his hips. A responding, dulled twitch pressed back. Through the obstruction of clothing, it was impossible to get a sense of him, but biology didn’t discriminate. She wanted him in her.

“Doing good.” Cora murmured against John’s temple, running her fingers through his hair in reassurance while his dug into her thighs in a vice grip.

“So good.” He choked when she slowly began to move back and forth. “So - so good. Feels - ah, fuck - let me -“

Maybe a little too quickly, Cora pulled herself closer to the edge of the counter, tugging John’s unbandaged hand further up her thigh and hoping he’d get the message while she busied herself with his belt.

She knew his smirk too well to mistake it for anything else when she felt him hum against her throat.

John straightened, pulling Cora’s attention back up to him. Lo and behold, he was looking as arrogant as ever; as if he hadn’t just been whining at her mercy. “Deputy, have a little patience.”

“After all that ranting about giving, you sure are selfish.”

“Oh, so you were listening.” He grinned, tracing a thumb back and forth over the junction of her hip. “Tell me, what happened to my little ranger who loved to play by the rules?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hurry up.”

John flinched when Cora’s hand shoved beneath his still-fastened pants, palming him through his underwear. He managed to hold strong, though, even if his voice near-cracked. “Or what?”

“Or John Seed’s gonna come in his pants.”

Again, he twitched in her grasp, but his movement remained torturously slow.

Realisation hit the Deputy at his resistance.

He was getting a kick out of this.

He was testing her.

“How crazy does it drive you, not having total, complete control?" He asked. His thumb reached the seam of her pants, almost too light to feel. She still throbbed all the same.

"You're an asshole." Cora growled.

“You know, I always suspected you got off on that.”

“Evidence suggests it might be the other way around.”

“Answer me, Deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll do just that if you don’t cooperate.” John tutted at her frustrated ineptitude at deciphering his belt buckle. “Are you really in a position to be calling the shots?”

Cora stopped to consider that, locking to his gaze with a scowl. Why did every interaction with him have to feel like a chess game?

Fine.

Not breaking eye contact, Cora simply pulled her sweater over her head in response.

John’s gaze broke immediately. He tried to recover, but the damage was done. There was no picking his composure back up after the attitude slid from his face and left him with nothing but prying eyes and a slackened jaw.

“Well,” He croaked, “when you put it that way…”

“Help me with this.” Cora urged, still tugging at his belt. He acquiesced immediately, although with the two of them hastily fumbling with the same mechanism, the extra help wasn’t much better. John swore under his breath, pulling out of Cora’s reach while she clicked her tongue. “Does that thing double as a chastity belt?”

“It’s not my fault we have a single functional hand between us.”

“You stabbed me first.”

“For God’s sake - fuck - got it.” John sighed, finally unbuckling the monstrosity, rushing back to the blonde’s reach. She dealt with her own belt while he hurried with his jeans, tattooed fingers shaking. The moment he’d succeeded, his hands flew to her waist, revering bare skin and savouring her impatience for him to touch her where she wanted to be touched.

She would have cussed him out, had his teeth not grazed her lip, refreshing the taste of him with his tongue slipping into her mouth - right as his left hand wriggled it way into her pants and pressed.

Cora saw white for a second. Untouched nerves awakening in a frenzy that had her gasping into that bastard’s mouth. Jesus, she could feel the grin on his face.

“Hm. Hypocrite.” Came the reminder, followed by a strangled noise when her fingers enclosed around his cock; separated still by underwear, but gripping him all the same. His body shoved against her, crushing their arms between them in the attempt to find his way closer - to find more. “Ah - shit. Careful-”

A knock from beyond the kitchen sent a collective jolt through both of them, and John’s head whipped around in a panic.

“W-...what is it?!” He called, voice cracking.

“John, have you got a minute?” A deeper voice Cora didn’t recognise responded from outside.

“Doubt I’ve got more than ten seconds.” The Baptist hissed to himself. “I recall saying emergencies only! Ask yourself - is this something I need to find John for, or can I find my own way?”

Christ. He spoke to his followers the same way she spoke to hers.

“O-okay. Sorry.”

John didn’t reply. He simply turned his attention straight back to Cora, stroking up and down along the material of her underwear. His cock twitched impatiently in her hand, at odds with his leisurely pace. “You’re soaked through.” He taunted, but the tremor in his voice delivered it as a revelation.

Cora’s brow furrowed. She stroked once, sweeping her thumb over the head of him. “Speak for yourself, Baptist.”

A grunt sounded from the man. His hands moved quickly, yanking her to the edge of the counter and gripping at her pants. Tugging the material down and off her legs while he dropped to his knees on the floorboards. The Deputy’s initial instinct to draw herself together and hide from scrutiny was jarred by the way the Baptist gaped between her legs. Like closing them would be some cruel disservice to him. So, she let him stare. Held still while he drew close, dotting a kiss to her knee and shivering when his beard skimmed her inner thigh.

“Thank you for wearing white.” John murmured, stroking a careful thumb over the cotton, leaving only aching want in his wake.

“That a religious thing?” She tried not to croak, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in this circumstance. Just...thought about it.”

“Oh. You just - casually speculated on the colour of my underwear.”

“Something like that.” He continued the action. Back and forth. Up and down. Trying to find the same spot as earlier. For all his enthusiasm, however, he was still out of practice and just as impatient as she was. He’d draw close, but any hitch in her breath pulled his gaze up to her face, searching for praise and losing his place in the process.

When his mouth suddenly descended upon her, though, fingers giving up their place to yank the material to the side and grant him direct access, the Deputy found herself uncomfortably on the complete other end of the spectrum. From not enough, to way, way too much. A squeak shot out of Cora, and her legs clamped shut on John’s skull just as her fingers gripped his hair in an attempt to pry him away from her. Both actions earned a separate “Ow,” from the man.

John pouted up at her. “What?”

“Stand up.” “I like where I am right now.” He protested. “You’re not shy, are you? I want to-”

Cora tugged at him anyway. “I don’t want you to practice on me. I want you to fuck me.”

John blinked. “Okay - not shy.” He pulled himself back to a stand, averting his gaze while she guided his hips back between her legs. “I’m - er - it’s just…-”

He bit back a resigned curse when her fingers circled his erection once again, passing over the noticeable slick of precum on strained cotton.

“Just what?”

“I'd like you to - enjoy it." The admission came. "And I’m not going to last.”

“Good. I'll enjoy that just fine.” Cora replied, earning a questioning look. “Won’t look so smug anymore when you’re coming in record time.”

John's expression darkened at the challenge, but his hands shook as they swatted her away, struggling to manoeuvre the fly of his underwear into just the right position.

Anger was still the quickest way to get through to him.

“Just you wait." He warned. "I’ll-“

She cut him off with a kiss, pulling his hips against her, and his threats evaporated. They were pressed too close for her to see, but his cock grazed the hem of her underwear, finally pulled free. Then, John’s fingers hooked around the material, pulling it to one side.

The Baptist held her gaze, brow upturned like he was worried.

Was he nervous?

“Ready?” He asked.

He looked...kind of pretty like this. Pupils blown. Lips a little swollen. Hair all messed up. Eye-contact wasn't so uncomfortable when he looked this wrecked.

She nodded. "Yeah." The pitch of his gasp matched hers when the head of him slid with dangerous ease along the wetness of her cunt. All she could focus on was the heat of him. The blunt press, drawing closer and closer to her entrance until he was finally lined up. The ache of resisting muscles and relieved nerve-endings when he pushed forward, torturously slow, concentration and bliss fighting for equal real estate on his face, and okay, he was exceptionally pretty like this.

A tiny little 'fuck' crept out of John when Cora sighed at the feeling, insistently encouraging, tugging. She needed more. It wasn't fair. Didn't fucking matter how long for; she just needed to feel him. All of him.

Then, when he was barely two inches in, another knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor.

“John? I spoke to Andy. He says it’s an emergency.”

John froze. Then, his eyes scrunched shut in a long-suffering grimace, and once again, his forehead dropped to Cora’s shoulder. Frustration radiated from him, infecting her within moments.

"Has he been out there the whole time?" She grunted.

"Christ." The Baptist sounded almost amused at that. He pulled back to offer a half-smile.

He had to investigate.

Cora, meanwhile, had no patience for his imminent departure. Her legs locked against his hips, but he was gently prying himself away already, muttering repeated, gasped apologies at her protests.

“I’ll be right there!” He called back, already resetting his belt. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you kidding?” Cora hissed, sliding down from the counter.

“I’ll be 30 seconds. I swear. Then we can - we can go upstairs, and we can stay there. Emergency or not.” John assured her, punctuating his words with kisses wherever he could land them while she struggled to multitask between receiving and yanking her pants back on. Then, he pulled away completely, stumbling out of the kitchen on visibly shaky legs.

Cora took a moment to silently lament before heading back out into the foyer, buckling her belt while she surveyed the space in an attempt to distract herself from impotent fucking rage.

John murmured away with someone outside, half-visible through the gap he’d left in the door. His arms had crossed, but with his back to her, she couldn’t discern his mood any further.

Nonetheless, her concern grew, and when the man said his goodbyes with a nod and entered the building once more, the Deputy found it had good reason to.

John passed through the room, not sparing her a glance. He snatched the radio he’d abandoned on the coffee table, but to her fleeting relief, simply clipped it onto his belt and moved on.

He’d turned pale.

“Hey.” Cora frowned, following him to the trophy cabinet where he began rifling through memorabilia. “What’s going on?”

“We have to leave.” He muttered, unboxing a small case. It rattled as he shook the content into his hand. 38 Specials, most making it to his back pocket, some clinking to the floor, forgotten when he moved on to withdraw his revolver and tucked it into the back of his pants. “Now.”

John continued hurrying about with Cora hot on his heels, unable to really do anything but watch him build a collection of valuables on the dining table. His coat. His keys. A particularly raggedy old bible. He made some effort to conceal the zip-lock bag he pulled from behind the décor on the mantle; definitely the source of the odour that permeated the foyer.

They traded a look - critical on Cora’s part, and John rolled his jaw while he shoved it out of sight, irritated. Perhaps embarrassed.

“Did you know?” He huffed.

“Mr. Seed, I studied in Colorado. I know what a half-bag looks like.”

“Did you know about the Cougars?” John’s voice hardened. “According to the Chosen, there’s one hell of a convoy inbound from the North. Did you know?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Oh. Fuck.” Cora noted, still too dazed to even bother lying. “I called them in.”

They actually came?

“Wonderful.” John had stopped to run a hand through his hair. “Truly. Thank you.”

“Well sure, but I don’t see what good they’re gonna do you. They’re probably here to-”

“Sarcasm, Cora.”

“That makes more sense."

John started to pace, then, relenting. Dispersing his temper. He tugged the radio from his belt, holding it to his chin. “Joseph, for God’s sake, come in.”

Half a minute passed by. The little curses under John’s breath became more punctuated until his patience thinned. He angled the dial, and then stopped. Examining the station he’d been using, incredulous.

His gaze flickered to her for a split-second, eyes narrowing, and Cora’s stomach coiled.

Shit.

He knew.

She winced while the Baptist strode past her, anticipating his approach to the phone, investigating an absent dial tone and her now-obvious tampering. He turned the machine over, holding up the ruined cord for her to see.

"Your handiwork, Deputy?" The smile that spread over his face was sharp as ever. The mask was back on.

Perhaps this hadn't been her best plan.

She should've let him go down on her when she had the chance.

#dont read these tags until after you've read the chapter ok PROMISE!!#have you finished the chapter yet-#have i filled enough space yet #PSYCH yall thought either of them deserved to get laid yet?#come back for quiet earth part 3: john's day gets exponentially worse aka the asswhoopin #john seed #john seed x female deputy #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfic #cora stammos

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 4 years ago

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🎁🔥GUESS WHO?🔥🎁

Prompt: Y/N’s first day back to work from her vacation is also coincidentally her birthday, as the day goes by, one mysterious box is placed on her work table. The content of it is a devious surprise and Y/N needs to find out who is the mysterious person who dared to give her such a kinky birthday present.

Word count: Long-ish

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, bondage(handcuffs), use of a vibrator, fingering, rough sex, mentions of voyeurism, oral sex (female receiving), dirty talk, cursing.

My Roman lovers: @ziasaph, @reigns-5sos, @mindofasagittaruis

Notes: What a better way to start 2021, then with a Roman kinky fic?! I wish you all a Happy New Year loves, may 2021 be kinder to us all. Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

“Happy birthday, to you..” I turn around to the sound of a person singing, just to see Sasha Banks holding a chocolate cupcake and a present bag on her hands.

“Hi Sasha.” I smiled

“Happy birthday babe!” Sasha ran up to me, placing the cupcake on my working table and hugging me tightly.

“Thanks Sasha”

This was my first day back from my vacation, and coincidentally it was also my birthday, so I was excited to see some of the good friends I’ve made while working for the WWE as a chiropractor.

“Here this is for you!” Sasha handed me a present bag.

“Oh Sasha, you really didn’t have to-“

“Shush! I love you, so of course I would pamper you on your birthday” Sasha said as I opened the bag to find a pair of Louboutin’s I had my eyes on for quite sometime, but couldn’t afford it.

“Sasha, are you insane? I can’t accept these! It’s way too expensive!” I gasped

“I am perfectly sane, you will accept these and I don’t care if you think they’re too expensive! I love you, you’re one of my best friends in this company and a human being with a heart made of gold. So if there is someone who deserves these is you” She happily said

“Sasha, I don’t even know how to thank you enough” I whispered with tears on my eyes

“Just say you will be my friend forever babe” She winked

“I don’t need presents to be your friend love”

“That’s why I gave it to you. I don’t care how much they cost, I just want to make my best friend happy on her birthday”

I hugged her and whispered ‘thank you’ on her ear

“So, who else has came here today?” She asked

“Oh! Bayley, Charlotte, Xavier, Kofi, Cesaro, Big E, Alexa, Naomi, Jey, Becky, Seth, Finn, Renee and Dean” I said, listing my close friends

“I was the last one then? Damn it!”

“It’s ok, I know you were busy today love”

“So...no Roman?” She whispered

“No, no Roman” I answered slightly disappointed.

Sasha along with Bayley and Renee were the only 3 people who knew about my stupid crush on Roman Reigns. It’s so stupid of me to think that a man like him would ever look at someone like me.

If he would ever look at someone on this company, it wouldn’t be the thick girl who worked as a chiropractor and yes one of the beautiful toned Divas of this company.

But still I couldn’t help but daydream about having him on top of me.

“Maybe he doesn’t know it’s your birthday?” Sasha tried to make it less uncomfortable

“Really Sasha? He’s friends with Dean! Everybody knows Dean is an open mouth, loud as fuck and can’t keep it to himself not even if his life depended on it...Roman just chose to ignore it, and it’s fine. We’re not close or anything so, I wasn’t expecting him to show up at my office door and fuck me on top of this table” I lied while chuckling weirdly

“Let’s be honest babe, everybody secretly wants Roman Reigns to fuck them on top of a table!” We both laughed at her statement before she continued “It’s his loss anyways babe”

“Yeah I guess so...”

I was making my way back to my office, from the women’s locker room, when a big black box with a golden ribbon called my attention on top of my desk.

“What the hell?” I said as I approached the box carefully. All of my closest friends had already wished me a happy birthday and gave me their presents so this was, to say the least, weird and unexpected.

I saw a blood red card on top of it, so I opened to find the handwritten saying

‘I hope these will make your birthday night unforgettable. Can you guess who’ve bought these for you? ;)’

Ok, that’s pretty fucking weird! I thought

From the corner of my eye I saw Sasha passing by and loudly whispered

“Sasha! Come here”

She entered my office “What’s up girl? Are you ok? You look scared”

I closed my office door and locked, and made my way back to the table by her side.

“Ok, I’m feeling a little paranoid. I just came back to my office to find this box and this card. Here” I handed the card to her and she red silently.

“Did you look what’s inside of it?” Sasha said

“Nope. And to be honest I don’t know if I can..what if it’s like a prank or something?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out Y/N”

She opened the box, inside of it there was a fancy red paper, I took it out of the way to reveal what was underneath it and I tell you I almost passed out.

Inside the box there was a lavender and purple (my favorite colors) vibrator, it was actually pretty cute...two pairs of handcuffs, lube, nipples clamps and a whip.

“Oh my gosh” Sasha gasped as she took the clamps on one hand and the whip on the other. “Someone wants to get kinky with you girl!” She examined the items carefully

“What in the actual fuck?” I whispered shocked “Give me that!” I took the items out of her hand, shoved back into the box and quickly closed with the black lid.

“Jesus, I can get fired if someone sees that in my office! Who the hell would do that?”

“Someone who wants to get some! And wants it rough” She chuckled

“Sasha it’s not funny! I could not have a job tomorrow morning if someone from the company found these”

“Who do you think did this?” She asked seriously

“How am I supposed to know? I have no fucking clue!”

“Maybe someone who’s name starts with an R...” She smirked

“R?... What ar-... Oh hell no! Nu uh, that’s impossible!” She couldn’t be implying that Roman was behind this, was he? No! Of course not, that’s a dumb thing to think of...but a part of me wished it was him, even though I know it wasn’t.

“Why impossible? You’re a gorgeous woman Y/N! You two would make a beautiful couple, plus, I‘ve seen his handwriting before and I’m pretty sure it’s quite similar to this one” She said as she inspected the card closely.

“Obviously someone wants to make fun out of me, so I’ll just pretend this never happened” I took the card out of her hand and shoved inside the box.

“Or someone has an eye on you for a while and decided to finally make a move”

“Sasha, please don’t tell this to anyone”

“Your secret is safe with me babe. Just promise that when your secret admirer finally show up, you’ll tell me if you guys made a good use of his presents” She laughed

“You’re the worst!” I laughed along

I made my way back to my hotel room later that evening with my hands so full of packages I could barely walk. I opened the door and carefully placed the bags, along with the black box, on the floor.

I went to the bed and sat down on the edge, while I stared at the box.

*Could Sasha be right? Could it be Roman who did this?* Was the only thought that crossed my mind

I decided to forget all about it and take a shower to wash off the day.

As I was rinsing my hair I heard some noise coming from the bedroom

*What the hell was that?*

I blamed on my super active mind and turned the shower off.

I got changed into some clean oversized t- shirt, and went full on commando. I was brushing my damp hair, when I decided to lay out the contents of the black box on the bed.

I roamed my eyes on each item slowly, until they stopped on the lavender and purple happiness. I turned the vibrator on and felt slightly tempted to use it.

*Oh fuck it! Happy birthday to me I guess”

I got rid of the t-shirt and lay down on the bed naked.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind imagine my wet dream, in form of a man... his face, his body, his cock and how I wish I could feel it inside of me, stretching me as I teased my clit with the vibrator.

I moaned Roman’s name and heard someone clear their throat on the foot of the bed. My eyes shot open and my heart nearly stopped beating when I saw who was in front of me. The vision was so unexpected that I even forgot I was naked.

“I see you liked my gift then” He smirked

“Wh- What are you doing here? How did you get inside of my room?” I whispered

“Does it matter?” His eyes had an evil glimpse to it

“Roman... I- I can explain” I begin to stutter

He placed his index finger on his lips in a shh motion and I stopped talking. He hungrily stared at every inch of my naked body, making me feel quite self conscious of the imperfections of it. I grabbed the blanket to cover my nakedness, he notice what I was about to do and yanked the blankets off the bed

“I’ve been waiting for years to see you like this, so don’t you dare cover yourself from me now”

He took off his shirt and pants leaving only his boxers on, from where I was laying I could see the outline of his hard cock and the wet spot of pre cum near of it’s head. He crawled on top of me slowly, like a predator, with dangerous eyes that were glued to my own.

“At first I was only gonna watch you... I wanted to see you pleasure yourself with my gifts, but when I saw your body fully naked on this bed moaning my name” He grunted “I couldn’t control myself, I couldn’t see this” He took the vibrator off my hand and placed on the bed by our side “Having all the fun with you, enjoying every part of your beautiful body, stretching your sweet pussy while my own cock only got to watch, he wants to have his own fun with you baby girl. He wants to make you feel real good” He leaned closer to my face, his lips brushing mine as he asked “Do you want that Y/N? Do you want my cock to make you feel good? Do you want it to stretch you out baby? Do you want it to fuck you hard and rough? Or do you prefer it slow and sweet? Do you want me to fuck you from behind?...Or maybe I should eat you out first huh? Eat that sweet pussy until you’re begging me to stop, I can’t wait to feel you come on my mouth...around my cock,milking it really nice” He growled “Tell me Y/N, what do you want?”

“I want it all, I want everything” I panted as he dry humped me

“Will you let me do whatever I want with you baby girl? What I’ve always wanted to do?”

“Yes”

He smiled satisfied, leaning to kissed me roughly and sloppily as he grabbed both of my wrists into one of his big hands pining it over my head.

“If anything I do bothers you or you feel like your not feeling it or don’t like it, you let me know ok?”

I nodded

“I need words baby girl”

“Yes, I understand”

“Good” He smiled and I felt something cold close around my wrists. I looked up to see the handcuffs around my wrists being closed on the headboard of the bed. Roman sat up and looked down do my naked body at his disposal.

“Fuck, you’re such a gorgeous sight” He said as he palmed his hard cock through his boxers. “I can’t wait to bury my cock deep inside you” He panted

“Roman, please do something” I whispered

His hands roamed the sides of my body until he stopped at my breasts as his hands squeezed them hard while pinching my nipples.

“These were made just for me. Do you see how they perfectly fit my hands? I can only imagine how even more beautiful your breasts will look with my cock sliding in between them” His eyes were glued on my breasts.

I tugged at my handcuffed hands, begging “Roman, please, I need- something”

“Let’s take a look on this pussy...are you wet for me Y/N?”

“Soaked”

He raised his eyebrows “Really? Let‘s see” Two of his fingers slides through my folds “Fuck baby girl, you are soaked. Jesus, we won’t even need lube” His fingers traced lazy circles around my clit, making me moan in pleasure. One callused finger slipped inside of me.

“Oh baby girl, you’re so tight, fuck I will barely be able to move. I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy stretch around my cock”

He took his finger out and cleaned with his tongue, humming in pleasure to the taste of my juices.

“You taste amazing, Y/N. Fuck I need more” He slide down my body placing his head between my thighs. His tongue gave a long lick from my entrance to my clit sucking it. Making his way back to my entrance again dipping his tongue inside of me, beginning to fuck me with his tongue.

“Oh my god, Roman, please fuck me! I need you inside of me please” I whined

“As you wish baby” He smirked

He slides his cock through my folds to lube it up, then places the head of his cock at my entrance

“Are you sure about this baby girl? ‘Cause once I start I won’t be able to stop myself”

“Roman, just fuck me already would you?” I said impatiently

He chuckled lightly saying “Easy tiger, we’ll take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you” Roman leaned down to peck my lips and returned to his previous position.

He started to slowly slide inside of me, inch by inch, painfully slow. He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, so I knew that we needed to take it slow, but fuck he feels so good I just wish he would roughly thrust into me, so I wiggle my hips to take more of him.

“Fuck Y/N, slow down! You’re too tight and I’m not exactly small, if you keep rushing things you’re gonna end up hurting yourself and I don’t want that”

“I know is just that your cock feels so fucking good, I just want you to fuck me Ro”

“Trust me baby, there’s nothing that I want more then fuck you senseless, but I want you to enjoy it as well ok?” He kissed my nose then my lips

When all of him was finally inside of me we both moaned loudly, I’ve never felt so full before and it was both a dream and a nightmare

“Motherfucker! Jesus fuck Y/N, you’re so fuckin- Oh my god.. I gotta focus ‘cuz I feel like at the slightest move I’ll cum” He pressed his forehead to mine as his thumb slowly traced circles on my clit.

“Roman” I gasped “Please don’t tease me like that, fuck it feels so fucking good” I cried as I felt my walls tighten around him

“Oh fuck!” Roman growled loudly “Don’t do that baby girl, don’t squeeze my cock like that, you’re gonna make m-“

“Move,please” I circled my hips

“Fuck it” He said as he forcefully grabbed my hips and begin to quickly thrust me.

“Oh Roman...harder, I need harder”

“Harder?” He chuckled “Like this?” He pounded into me mercilessly

“Yes! Just like that, oh please, don’t stop” “Fuck Y/N you’re going to get me addicted to you baby girl” He kissed my lips vigorously

“I say we should push you a little further..” Roman took the vibrator from the bed and placed on my clit.

“Ooohhh”

“Fuck, you look so beautiful baby girl, a whimpering mess underneath me”

“Ro- Roman I’m gonna cum”

“Cum baby, I wanna feel you cum around my cock”

And I did. My orgasm was so hard that my juices made a mess on Roman’s thighs and the bedsheets.

“Y/N, fuck baby...so fucking gorgeous, my messy girl” He chuckled “Where do you want me to cum baby?”

“Inside” I panted while I felt another mini orgasm come through me

“Fuck, I’m officially addicted to you baby girl. You’re my wet dream come true...gorgeous face, delicious body, perfect pussy..so tight for me. And on top of it all, you want my cum inside of you?! You are beyond perfect Y/N”

He thrusts into me 3 more times before finally cum, filling me up with his seed.

As we tried to recover our breaths, Roman uncuffed my wrists and placed a sweet kiss into each one.

“You ok baby girl?”

“Mhmm” I hummed

“Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”

“No, of course not. You were perfect!”

“Good baby” He smiled

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing baby”

“Why? Why me?”

“Why not you?” He asked sincerely while he brushed my hair with his fingers

“I don’t know, I can’t picture someone like you with someone like me.. I mean, there are so many beautiful women in the company that fit you better...I’ve never thought you could find me attractive”

“Are you serious? Have you looked yourself in the mirror? You’re gorgeous, so perfect Y/N. Yes, there are beautiful women in the company but they’re nothing compared to you baby. You stand out, exactly because you’re different from all of them. You’re unique”

“Still...I don’t know..”

“Oh so you don’t believe me? Maybe I’ll have to show you then”

I could feel his cock beginning to harden on my thigh

“Show me? How?”

“Well baby girl, good thing there are more items of the box for us to try it huh?”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you don’t really think that I’m gonna let you go right? Now that I’ve tasted you, you’ve got me hooked baby. We’ve got the whole night for me to change your mind about us together. And I bet you that I will” He smirked as he leaned down to kiss my neck...

What a great way to celebrate my birthday 🎁

#roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #wwe one shot #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #masochist writes

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cybernaght · 3 years ago

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The Rebel/叛逆者: A Review of Sorts

After being only semi-invested in the Rebel, I ended up getting so into it in the final weeks of its release, I’ve shelled out on IQIYI premium just to get the final couple of episodes a few days earlier.

That’s right kids, it’s a Review of Sorts. Unfortunately, I could not find a translation of the novella the drama is based on, so will be looking at it as a separate entity.

Most of this post is spoiler-free, however I have dedicated a few paragraphs at the end of it to discussing the final episode, as there are a few specific things about it I wanted to mention. There is a clear spoiler warning before that part.

If you don’t want to risk it, TL;DR version of this review goes something like this: Rebel is very decent, and positively one of the best things that I have seen to come out of China since I’ve jumped into that particular rabbit hole. It’s pretty well written, it’s very beautifully dressed and shot, and the cast is killing it. I thought it dropped the ball a little in post production, and I did not always love the pacing. Other than that, it’s incredibly decent, and well worth watching, unless communist propaganda really irks you, in which case stay very well away.

I have been having many conversations with @supernovasimplicity all the way through watching this drama, so there are likely to be some thoughts here that are influenced by those.

The story centers around Lin Nansheng, a struggling servicemen in the Guomingdang party. He has a great analytical mind, and absolutely no emotional capacity for his job. He has trouble handling violence, he is impulsive, he cannot speak to his superiors without bursting into tears, and has nothing even remotely resembling a poker face. And that is what makes this drama as enjoyable as it is.

I don’t think Lin Nansheng’s journey would have been nearly as exciting had he started it from a place of competence. He botches up everything he touches because his big brain switches off the moment his emotions kick in. And so, when you see him grow in confidence, learn to control himself, learn to fake his smiles and compliments, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of pride. It also makes Lin Nansheng very likeable as a character for reasons other than Zhu Yilong’s ability to look like a bush baby.

It did take me a while to feel fully engaged with his performance - not because there is anything lacking in it, but just because it’s hard to be truly surprised by his choices after the exposure I have given myself to his work. That said, at about a half-way point I got charmed by him anyway, and there were quite a few scenes that were truly mesmerising. There were scenes where he broke out of the familiar mould of big unguarded eyes and fluttering wet eyelashes, and tried something that was not pretty: every time to a great success. I am hoping to see more of that in his future work.

I really wanted to like the female lead, Zhu Yizhen, but unfortunately both the way she was written and the way she was performed by Tong Yao left me somewhat cold. It did not help of course that the screenplay ended up sidelining her at every turn, leaving her with very little personal agency. She was set up so interestingly, but in the end her sole purpose became being someone for Lin Nansheng to pine over. It is particularly curious from a perspective of meta storytelling: seeing how this is all centered around superiority of communism, which as a whole was, arguably, ahead of its time in the matters of binary gender equality.

The ensemble cast of the drama is stunning. Wang Yang came very close to stealing the show at several points as Chen Moqun, somehow managing to make his rather unlikeable character interesting. I can say the same thing about Zhu Zhu who absolutely shined as Lin Xinjie, showing an incredible range and imagination in her performance.

The overarching story of the show is engaging, with some incredibly suspenseful elements; every narrative arc including a nice progression through it. As spy thrillers go, it was fairly well plotted. You could if you go looking for a few things that did not pay off in a satisfying way (notably, the Chekhov’s cyanide capsule), but you overall the story really was well told for the most of it.

I did, however, feel like the pacing started to fall apart in the last quarter of the drama. Last episode in particular really did feel rushed, not just due to its pace, but also in a way it failed to pay off the final mission in any visible way. There will be more on that in the spoiler section of this post.

Important to note that The Rebel is a show made in Communist China in the year 2021. It does not ideologically side-step from the path that was laid out for it by that fact. Which is to say, it is, undeniably, filled with propaganda. Communists are the good guys, and if you think a good guy (or gal) is not a communist, they probably secretly are. With one exception of a friendly character who is not a communist, and whose fate we actually never find out. Curious, that.

The Rebel is not a kind of a show where censorship-appeasing scenes are shoehorned in. It’s a kind of a show in which the main theme is Sacrifice For the Party.

Aside from the being the moral vector of the show, Mao’s gentle teachings explicitly help get Ling Nansheng out of prolonged depression following his injury, and almost annoyingly, this sat incredibly well with the character, as he was written. Lin Nansheng is conceived as this naive idealist who wants to be on the front line, who needs validation and support of others. His - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - his being disillusioned in his beliefs and choosing to join a party which includes people whom he likes and trusts makes sense. Him finding this one thing that gives him hope and letting it propel him into gaining confidence and competence makes sense.

In many ways, the Rebel is a story of Lin Nansheng’s failure to become an antagonist within the world of the drama.

I have honestly spent this past couple of weeks pondering whether being well written makes political propaganda better or worse, whether the subtlety of it makes it more or less palatable, whether it’s enough, as a viewer, to be aware of it to shrug it off. Ultimately, this is not something I could or should make moral judgements on, but I do believe that it’s possible to acknowledge the fact that propaganda exists in the drama, and still appreciate it for a good piece of television that it is.

That said, I am very well aware that me being kind of okay with it stems entirely from my own removal from the culture this is made in, and I am, perhaps, lucky to even have a choice as to whether I want to engage with a product which is, undoubtably, here to dress political ideology in fancy clothes.

I have, on the other hand, also seen many things in Russian media of the “Annexation of Crimea is Good Actually” variety and those make me feel very unwell, so feeling somewhat at ease with blatant political propaganda in Chinese media makes me the biggest hypocrite.

But, I digress.

Before we go into some specific plot-related things, I would like to mention that the Rebel has this weird dichotomy in which the production is sublime, and the post-production… not so much. The show very well shot. Every element of it sits perfectly together, not a single prop out of place, not a single extra underdressed, not a page of script not put to good use. It’s lit to perfection. It’s scored beautifully. So much of this show is just stunning.

And then… there is post-production.

This is not even about bad CGI (and the CGI is, indeed, bad), it’s just that most of post-production as a whole feels rushed.

Starting with surprisingly imperfect editing, which at times just fails to make the scene flow together. The final line of dialogue would be spoken within a scene, and it would fade to black instantly without a single breath to indicate a full stop. A montage sequence would be created, but every shot within it condensed to a second, making it feel incredibly fast-paced when the effect should be the opposite. There would be a cut away from a speaking character and to the same speaking character from a slightly different angle, making it dynamic without any reason to do so. There are a couple of truly startling jump-cuts.

I did not speed this gif up. This is part of a romantic montage, edited like it’s a goddamn action sequence.

And of course dear old friend slowing down footage shot at 24FPS. Please don’t do this. You think no one notices - but we do.

There are other tell-tale signs of production rushing to the finish line: occasional, but very noticeable ADR glitches, very sloppy job done at sound mixing, which contribute to parts of the show feeling ever so slightly off.

It’s not unforgivable, but it does make me wish the same amount of care and efforts that went into shooting this drama would also go into it after it was all in the can.

Oh, and just because if you know me you know I have a professional fixation on fights, and I am happy to say most action scenes are toe-curlingly delightful. Hot damn those fights are good. I am absolutely in love with the shot below, for example. Placing an actor behind a piece of set so he can exchange places with the stunt double during a one shot is such an old trick, but the execution, timing and camerawork are just... flawless. This is what perfection looks like.

Now we got all that out of the way...

SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE BELOW

Here’s the thing. I wanted to love the ending and I found that I could not.

The final mission was presented as important, and honestly the scene in which Zhu Yizhen is sending the vital message out as Lin Nansheng holds his ground in hand to hand fight is incredibly dynamic. Party, this is due to the fight itself being incredibly well choreographed, yes, but it’s also where it sits within the narrative, how high the stakes are for everything surrounding it.

But then, the tension all but bleeds out. The Important Message is sent, the fight is won, and we are treated to ten minutes of a very slow car chase, problem of which is not even its speed as much as its placing within the story. As in, by this point both of those operatives have lost their cover, and completed their Very Important Mission. It would be very sad if they died, but their survival does not technically contribute to their cause. Moreover, Zhu Yizhen getting mortally injured in order to protect Lin Nansheng as part of her mission read a little empty when the mission is technically over.

While I personally found Lin Nansheng slow recuperation and his low key ending enjoyable, I think I would have preferred to have seen a more tangible pay-off to all the sacrifices made in the name of “bright communist future”, just a little more justification for every moment of death and despair we witnessed. I would have certainly at the very least preferred to see Wang Shi’an’s death on screen. Considering how many likeable characters martyred themselves on screen, denying us the death of the one antagonist just seemed cruel.

I really did love the ambiguity of the final few scenes however, if we consider the children choir at the end a fantasy. The idea that Lin Nansheng will live out his life in this hope that Zhu Yizhen is still alive, imagining her just outside of his field of vision, his only joy being in this fantasy of her… now, that is incredibly strong. I equally like the idea of rest being promised to him at the end of his journey, and said rest being painful, and slow and unwelcome.

But it felt like as they chose not to to lean into the “sweet” part of the bitter-sweet tone of the ending and we’re unable not commit to the “bitter” part either, so it lands with a splat which is somewhat lacklustre.

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This concludes my thoughts on the Rebel.

I am more or less out of Zhu Yilong’s filmography to watch, which is probably a good thing at this point. I have just emerged out of several back to back work projects - literally today - and will hopefully once more have time for things I grew to enjoy doing during the lockdown.

Those things, if you have not guessed, include watching Chinese television and writing things about Chinese television.

#the rebel #叛逆者 #Zhu Yilong #review of sorts #now with gifs #chinese drama

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