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ienjoywritingfilth · 3 months ago

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Night of the concert deserves a part 2! 🫶

hope u like it and i hope i get some reviews pls. i really love reading them all an i have almost 500 followers!!!!!!!!!!!!

pairing: dbf!Joel x fem!reader

trope Best Friend's Dad! Joel Miller

summary: after a really close call Joel does his best to stay away from his daughter's seductive friend. but all goes awry when she comes to sleep over one weekend.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), dubcon, oral, infidelity, unprotected p in v, absolutely filthy talk, chair sex, creampie, daddy mentioned, somnophilia, other shit i might have forgotten

word count: 6.1k

part ii of 'the night of the concert'

Joel hasn't been able to stop thinking of that night. The night of the concert. The night you threw yourself at him.

When he frantically fucks his wife it's your cunt he sees behind his eyes. When he drives to work he gets hard as he remembers the way your tits bounced as you rode him. And above all he recalls that sultry voice you put on for him.

When was the time you fucked college pussy, Joel?

Not since college.

You'd been so slick and warm, so perfect around him. Your cunt had the kind of grip that makes his balls tighten just at the memory.

So when Sarah asks one morning a month or so later if you can spend the night this weekend Joel chokes on his coffee.

"Her parents are arguing all the time now. Her mom threatened to file for divorce," Sarah says with a frown as Joel wipes at his now stained work shirt.

"I'm not home this weekend," Angie says tapping on her phone before glancing at her husband. "You'll have to check with your dad. But I don't see why not. Right Joel?"

Sarah looks at her dad with pleading eyes. You haven't been over since everything happened and Joel knows it's been hard for Sarah. She has no idea what you did.

"Right," Joel finally nods, digging into his eggs. "Yea no problem kiddo."

What else could he say? He's never told his wife or daughter what happened. How could he do that without blowing his life up?

The entire week leading up to the weekend Joel thinks he'll fuck it out of his system. He goes down on Angie every night that week leading up to her flight. He fucks her in every position and he fucking loves it. So does she, claiming that college Joel is back after one particularly satisfying session.

But it's not enough. He's taken to sitting in his truck parked in the garage late at night when everyone else is asleep. Only then does he pull up your Instagram and begin stroking his cock vigorously. He watches your reels and pinches to zoom in on photos you took of yourself at the beach. He comes harder to static images of you than inside his own wife and that's how he knows he cannot be anywhere near the house this weekend.

That Saturday Joel drops Angie off at the airport so she can go on her yearly trip to her sisters back in Colorado. Of all the fucking weeks for her to be away.

"You gonna have a movie marathon while I'm gone?" His wife grinned at him. "Or just be lazy by the pool?"

"Thought I might go fishing with Tommy."

Angie's face went grim. "I don't know that I want the girls alone in the house, Joel."

"Why not?"

"Her friend is going through a tough time," Angie said sympathetically. "Her parents are divorcing and then suddenly we're both gone? I just feel like you should be there for her."

Joel felt his entire body break out in a flush. Angie is so damn thoughtful. It's what he loves the most about her.

"Okay sweetheart. I'll stay home."

----------

When you come to the house that sunny Saturday afternoon and knock on the door, Sarah is in the bathroom. Joel hears her calling him from where he sits in the garage reading magazines.

"Dad? Can you get it?"

Joel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was keeping his promise to Angie, but he didn't want to be thrown into the fucking lions den.

He feels the sweat accumulating down his back as he tugs the door open.

You're wearing cut offs and a tight tank top that holds you perfectly. The entire outfit is molded to your body, showing Joel every curve. He can see the red strap of a swimsuit underneath.

"Hi Joel."

You smile at him like everything is normal. Like last month you didn't ride him and beg for him to fuck you.

"Come in," Joel offers.

"Thanks."

You're carrying a yellow tote bag covered in lemons. Joel tries to fix his attention on that until Sarah comes to greet you. Southern manners insist he wait with you when everything in him tells him to hightail it the other direction.

He wills his cock to stay flaccid, but just in case he goes to sit at the kitchen table, muttering that you can join him if you want. You do, slipping into the seat across from him. To your credit you look just as uncomfortable as Joel feels.

"You want a lemonade?"

"No thanks."

He notices how you twirl a strand of your hair around your finger before anxiously picking at the pale blue polish on your nails.

"I just wanted to say thank you for not saying anything to Sarah about. You know."

"Of course," Joel says with his neck bobbing as he swallows. "I know how close you two are."

He doesn't add the other things. I can't stop thinking about it. I want you gagging on my thick cock. I want you bouncing on it again. I wanna fuck you full of my cum.

"I'm really sorry, Joel."

You say it so sweetly and filled with so much regret that Joel feels like a perfect asshole. Here you are anguished about the entire thing and he's been getting his rocks off to it since it happened.

Sarah's footsteps are heard on the stairs and you both look to her as she enters the kitchen.

"Let's go swimming," she announces, grabbing you by the wrist. You giggle, following your friend out into the backyard where the glittering pool awaits.

Joel tells himself that he just wants to tidy up the house, but it's just denial on his part. From the kitchen he can see into the backyard where the two of you jump into the pool, splashing and giggling.

He focuses on you, watching the skimpy style of your suit cut into your ass, leaving most of it on display as you pull yourself out of the pool. Was it done intentionally? Were you hoping he'd see?

Dirty old pervert. She thought she was coming over to see a friend. Not to entertain you.

Still he watches as you oil yourself up, tugging down the collar of your swimsuit to get as much of your flesh as possible. You look so good from where he's standing, all sun kissed. He can still recall the silky smooth of your thighs.

He forces himself to putter around the house, not letting himself linger at the windows. He tries to ignore the sound of you splashing.

When his stomach begins to growl he heads for the fridge, barely able to hold in the groan when he sees you already there, your head ducked in as you search for something. You're completely soaked, your hair damp over your shoulders. The cold of the fridge and your damp suit have your nipples poking through your suit, absolutely begging for his mouth. You must notice Joel because you straighten, looking concerned.

"Sorry," you say, your body dripping onto the ceramic tile. "Sarah said you had popsicles? She wanted one."

Joel hides the grimace at your words, his cock twitching curiously at the image of you soaking wet and licking a Popsicle.

"We're all out," he lies.

"I'll tell Sarah."

Joel doesn't answer, but he watches your ass jump deliciously as you jog back outside through the sliding doors.

He runs to the bathroom, the door barely closed as he tugs his cock out of his jeans. He spits into his palm and begins to jerks himself off. Images of your wet body in that skintight suit have him throbbing and releasing ropy strings of cum within seconds.

He looks up into the mirror and sees the flush to his cheeks. The way his mouth is wet and rouged from biting his moans back. He’s fucking disgusting. But at least now he can get back to normal. Now he can order pizza and eat it with you both before retiring early.

The pizza arrives just as you and Sarah come in, citing that it's getting cold. You're both wearing the towels around your bodies, but Joel can't help but notice that yours is slipping down, affording him a generous glance if you pointed nipples once more.

"Gotta send out some quotes," he tells you both as he hands over the BBQ chicken pizza. "You two have a good night."

He recuses himself to his home office beside the garage, thankful that he made it the entire day without one misstep. There have been too many close calls and too much tension and all of it on his end. He tries to ignore everything and focus on his work.

"Done in the shower if you want it!"

Your muffled voice calls out to Sarah, startling Joel from just staring at his computer.

"Thanks!"

He hears his daughter enter into the washroom, the shower running. The gentle sound of footsteps on carpet stop outside his office door and Joel realizes he's barely breathing. He knows you’re standing on the other side.

Don't come in.

He watches passively as the door to his office is cracked open and your head peeks in.

"Hey, can we talk?"

He's safe behind the desk, he figures. If he does get hard you won't be able to see it. He gives you a patient smile.

"Of course. Come in."

He regrets it the second he says it because when you come around the door and close it behind you, he sees that you're just wrapped in a towel. You stand on the other side of his desk, all concern and nervous lip biting.

"I just wanted you to know that when all that stuff happened last month I was in a really bad place," you explain.

Joel hears you speaking but all he can focus on is that your toenails are peach. That your legs are kissed from the sun and bare. That your breasts swell under the towel. Then he realizes you've stopped talking. You're staring at him quizzically. Shit, did you ask him a question? His chair creaks as he leans back in it.

"We don't have to keep going over this. I understand."

You step closer to the desk, nodding.

"I know. But it's important to me that you know."

Joel feels himself relax and he shuts the laptop. Maybe this evening won't be as stressful as he thought. You’re being mature about everything and he doesn’t want you to be in more pain. Your parents are splitting up, you need support.

"It's important for you to know that I didn't plan it or anything," you emphasize.

"Okay."

"Not like this time."

Joel is nodding in understanding when he suddenly freezes.

"Wait what did you just say?"

He sees the small curl to the corner of your mouth. You’re amused.

"Sarah mentioned Angie was gone for the weekend. So I told her I was having trouble with my parents and asked if I could stay here. It was the only way I could think of to see you again that wasn't suspicious."

Joel’s eyes go wide. You make an exaggerated pout when he doesn’t answer.

"Joel I can't stop thinking about how it felt to ride your cock that night."

Joel almost gasps with how hard he gets at your confession. The head beading with pre-cum, soaking his boxers.

"I can't stop thinking about that night," you say before slowly slinking towards him when he still doesn't answer. "And I don't think you can either."

It takes a moment for the words to completely register, but when they do Joel makes sure to lean forward, covering his throbbing erection.

"You need to leave," he says with what he is praying sounds like authority. "We ain't doing this again."

Please leave. Please fucking leave. I'm not strong enough.

"I need something to cum on," you say.

"I don't care," Joel says quickly, his eyes on the floor. "Get out."

"Uh uh," you tease with a smile. "Lean back."

"Leave."

"Show me."

Joel's cheeks are bright red, sending a thrill through you. With a dejected sigh he moves backward in his office chair, removing his arm from where it was resting over his lap. The thickness of his cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans and he spreads his legs wide, almost challenging.

"I forgot how big you were Joel," you breathe, coming to stand in between his parted legs. Your hands land on his shoulders so you can lean forward, your mouth at his ear.

"Remember how it looked fucking my pussy?"

Joel says nothing but you see his neck bob when he swallows. He's angry and horny and frustration pours off of him in waves.

"You've had your fun, now get out."

You grin to yourself before shaking your head.

"You don't want me to leave."

Joel opens his mouth to tell you exactly that when your fingers come to the towel folded under your collarbone. Before he can say anything you've unravelled it, letting the towel drop to the floor at your feet.

"Jesus," Joel croaks. He's never seen your fully naked body before, and now that he has he'll never forget it. All lush curves and perfect fucking tits that make his mouth go dry. Your sweet pussy glistens with arousal.

"It's okay Joel," you whisper softly as you step towards him, drawing his big palms up with yours. He doesn't fight you on it, not even when you begin pressing them against your waist. "You can touch."

You're still damp from the shower and you smell like his wife's shampoo.

"Shouldn't," he says in a slur, even as his hands grip tightly around your naked waist, pulling you towards him.

"You should," you coo as you lower yourself into his lap. "We both know how good it feels."

Your knees are on either side of his thick thighs, holding yourself just above him until you take his cock out from his jeans. Joel says nothing, only watching passively. He can't control it, he can't deny you, and he was an idiot to think he could. His cock is throbbing by the time you bring him out of his pants, the head sticky with pre-cum.

"You want me to stop?" You ask playfully, your thumb tracing the slit as he shivers. "You want me to leave?"

Your hand is going around the shaft and tugging when he tries to answer. Joel groans under his breath.

"We shouldn't..." Joel says it but there's no power behind it, especially when your hand slides down the base, twisting when you reach the springy hair there dense and lush.

"We really shouldn't," you whisper, your mouth sensual as you bite your lower lip in a mockery of regret. "It would be so bad of us."

You tease the tip of him between your pussy lips, gliding the head between the seam, tickling your clit. Joel feels his eyes roll back at the pleasurable sensation before he forces them open so he can watch.

"You think about me when you're with her don't you?" You whisper with a Cheshshire grin. "You think about fucking this tight little cunt when you're with your wife, don't you Joel?"

Yes, he does. But he'll never admit that to you. Instead he's silent, just watching you line the head up with your dripping hole. It looks so good, so perfect and wet. The warmth of you teases the head of his cock and he suddenly can’t take it anymore.

"Put it in," Joel instructs throatily.

You nod excitedly, crouching and just about to lower yourself onto his length when the shower down the hall suddenly turns off. Your eyes go wide, the realization that Sarah is going to be exiting the shower any second.

“I better go.”

But Joel is in a frenzy, the scent of you in the air and your wet cunt dripping onto his cock.

“You wanted this cock," Joel murmurs before grabbing your thighs and spreading them widely over his lap. "Show me how much you want it."

You gasp at the intrusion of his thick cock, your hands flying to lace around his neck as he urges you to take him deeper.

"She's she's gonna. . . Gonna be out," you groan, sinking into his lap.

He feels you hesitate before he starts rolling his hips and you welcome him deep. You don't want to fight it.

"Just for a minute," Joel says, pulling you further down onto it. Your thighs spread and he watches your pussy swallow him. “Show me how bad you want this cock.”

"I do," you groan with your head lolling back. "But we're gonna get caught.”

Despite this your cunt twitches around him, your eyes beginning to shutter.

"Show me how you fuck a married man," Joel growls against your temple, starting to bounce you in his lap. "Remind me why I need this cunt."

Instinctively at his words you start to bounce on it. It's wrong, it's so fucking wrong but it gets you so wet. You're rolling your hips when you hear the door to the bathroom creak open. You nearly leap out of your skin. You shoot a wide eyed look of concern at Joel. He raises a forefinger to his plush lips, signalling for you to be quiet.

You try to pull yourself off of Joel's lap but he shakes his head before burying himself deeper into you. He puts his hand over your mouth when you begin to whine.

Your feet don't touch the ground. They just bounce in the air as he fucks up into your swollen cunt. You're drifting into a haze of pleasure when there's a knock at the door and Sarah's voice floats in.

"Dad, have you seen---"

You're bouncing on his lap, your tits jumping. Joel gropes them, his eyes on your body even as he speaks.

"Your friend was in the backyard last time I checked," Joel says as he fucks up into you, watching the way your brows knit together. "Try there."

"Okay."

Sarah leaves the hallway and Joel can only grin at your cock -drunk expression. You’re close, and it only takes a practised rub of his thumb on your clit to have you whining into his palm, your arousal dripping down his cock. He pulls you off of him, amused at the soft whine you utter.

"Sarah's gonna figure out pretty quick that you're not out there," he tells you. "Head out."

He says it with authority and for once you listen. You nod, pulling the towel back around your body and slipping out the door. Joel is still sitting here, his cock hard and soaked with you.

----------

It's only a matter of time before he hears the two of you giggling as you watch a movie, chattering away. He knows Sarah pretty well, she'll be asleep soon. She's never been able to stay awake during any movie they start this late.

Your laughter peals through the house and Joel feels his tummy tighten. When he sees his cock lengthening under his sweats he's disgusted.

What the fuck is wrong with him? The shit he said and did. That wasn't him! He's never talked like that. And yet the memory already serves to get him throbbing. He should go to bed, should do anything but sit here turned on out of his mind. He hears padding of feet and knows that you and Sarah must be heading to bed.

“Night Dad!”

“Night babygirl.”

He waits for the door to shut, counting fifteen minutes before exiting the office. He sees no lights on under his daughter's door. Good, you're both asleep. He creeps towards the kitchen, planning on grabbing a piece of pizza and a water before retiring for the night. He's wandering in the dark home on his way when a shape on the couch stops him.

It's you, sleeping on the couch. You're wearing a skimpy pyjama shorts and white tank top. Your breasts are rising and falling with each inhale of breath. He comes closer, standing next to the sofa and watching you sleep.

You’re beautiful like this. All vulnerable, your face smooth. He can't stop looking at your tits through your shirt, missing them already. He can't help it; they fit so perfectly in his hands. Without further thought he tugs the shirt down, letting your breasts spill out and the nipples are already tight buds when they touch the air You stir briefly at the sensation but remain blissfully asleep.

Joel watches your face, waiting for you to do anything but you continue to sleep. Your lips are parted as you inhale softly. Joel feels hypnotized as he pulls his heavy cock from his sweatpants, already drooling with pre-cum.

He presses the warm, spongy tip of his cock to your soft lips, feeling like every nerve in him is on fire the second they touch. Pre-cum clings to your pouty, parted lips when he pulls back and he feels his balls tighten at the sight.

Just a little inside, he reasons. You'll never know. Your mouth is so warm and tight and he'll stop before you wake up.

With slow precision he slips the head between your parted lips, hissing at the wet scorch of your mouth. He feeds his cock slowly into the welcoming warmth, eyes fixed on your face. You’re still placid, huffing a bit in your sleep before settling again.

It’s so wrong to take you like this but Joel can’t stop himself. He saws in and out of your mouth and his movements are frustratingly slow. The tip of his cock is coated in your saliva, but he's desperate to go deeper. He can't stop himself. He thrusts in, feeding it over your wet tongue with a grunt.

He's hardly surprised when you suddenly blink your eyes open. You're groggy from sleep when his find him standing next to the sofa. His thick, hard cock slowly flexing into your mouth. You go to pull back in surprise but his hand cradles the back of your skull, keeping you in place.

"You're okay," he murmurs down at you. "Shhhh."

He tenses and waits for you to pull back from him. He is sure he'll hear your screaming echo through the house. And he'd deserve it: he's been fucking your mouth for the last two minutes. He's surprised when instead you move your face forward, sucking him deeper. Lightning bolts shoot down from the top of his head and he holds in a moan.

Your hand comes to stroke the base of his fat cock as your mouth forms a tighter O shape. Joel tilts back, pelvis jutting forward into your mouth. You take him down to the base, your head bobbing along him.

He watches you take him deeper into your mouth, drooling around him with your eyes gazing up at him. He can see your free hand snake down under the blankets, rubbing furiously and he grins.

"You wanted this didn't you?"

You nod shallowly around his girth, letting him shove his cock deeper down your throat. He fucks your face slowly, taking his time to pull out, your bottom lip cradling the head before thrusting in over your waiting tongue.

Joel slowly removes himself from your mouth. He isn't going to be satisfied with fucking just your throat. Wordlessly he tugs the blanket off of your lower half, not even stopping to look at you when he hooks his thick fingers around the waistband of your pyjama pants. You lift up, helping him to tug them off and toss them onto the floor.

You don't speak; unlike last time you both know you have to be quick and quiet. Sarah could wake up at any minute. That’s part of what makes it hot for you, knowing that your best friend’s dad has his thick cock out, ready to fuck you on the family couch.

Joel tugs his sweatpants all the way off, throwing them to the end of the couch before crawling over you. His large body covers you and its mere seconds before he's pressing his cock against your slippery pussy lips.

He pulls down your tank top more, wanting your tits to be fully exposed to him. The pink nipples harden under his ravenous gaze. You murmur in surprise when he tilts you back, lifting your breast to his mouth and sucking in one achy nipple.

You gasp at the sensation, your cunt tightening around his cock. Joel groans against your chest, his big hand hand moving to do the same with the other. Soon enough your nipples are wet with his saliva. He watches your head fall back, already so turned on about the illicitness of what's going on. Joel grins wolfishly, grabbing his throbbing cock by the base and slapping it against your clit.

"You want this married cock?" Joel grunts down at you quietly, watching as your eyes fight to stay open on his face.

"Yes," you slur already drunk on him and the moment. "Fuck yes I want your married cock."

You give a little whine, your body shifting under him desperate for friction. Joel watches the needy way you move for him, trying to urge the head of his cock between your spread thighs.

"Beg for it," Joel whispers gravelly. His voice is hard and hushed in the darkness.

"Please," you whisper without any hesitation. "I need it in me."

Joel feels heady with power when he hears your desperate supplication. Your hips are arching to meet his.

"Again," he hisses, slapping his cock harsher against your mound. You whimper back, tits bouncing as you take in the jolt of pleasure.

"I'll do anything you want," you promise, rolling your hips up against him. He releases his cock, letting your hips maneuver until he's nestled at your entrance. "I'll give you anything, anything. Just fuck me with your big cock, please."

Joel should make you keep begging for all you've put him through, but you're soaking him and he hasn't even entered you yet. If he wasn't rushed he'd take you apart piece by piece until your were a slobbering mess. But he needs to rush.

He holds himself on his forearms, caging you underneath him and grunting as he starts to feed his cock into you. Your arms go around his shoulders before you bury your face in his neck.

Fuck you're tight. Your pussy a velvet clench that welcomes him, moulding around him. He grunts into your hair as he buries himself deeper, holding in groans when he hears your desperate whimpers for him to go deeper.

When your ass hits his pelvis you swallow and whimper lustily in his ear.

"M'so full, Mr. Miller."

Joel has to clench just teeth from moaning. You know exactly what you're doing using that name and you both know it. You make an achy groaning sound, like he’s so fuck you can barely stand it.

He thrusts into you, watching with satisfaction as your tits jiggle deliciously for him. He doesn't see the smile spreading across your features. And now for the first time in the evening you speak in that low, seductive purr.

"Fucking a college girl with your married cock," you say nibbling his ear, feeling him falter. "And you're so hard aren't you? You like doing bad things, huh?"

Joel grits his teeth, trying to ignore you and just cum. You're just a vessel for his seed right now. Your body bows underneath him, pliant and willing.

"Is that it, Joel? You pretend to be a good man but at the end of the day look at you," you say, letting him bounce you harshly along his cock. "Fucking a girl half your age on your couch when your wife is out of town."

"Shut the fuck up."

Joel gives a growl and you gasp as he maneuvers your legs up, pressing them between your bodies. He's folding you in half and before you can say anything he's entering you brutally once more.

The slaps of his balls against your ass are no longer muffled, but neither of you notice. You're both so far gone, practically animalistic at this point. Joel is sweating, his hair falling into his eyes as he draws out and slams back into you. He enjoys the sight of your tits rippling when he does.

"Just admit it," your murmur between slaps as you bounce under him. "Admit you wanted to do this a month ago."

"I did," Joel grunts into your neck even though it shames him to admit it. "I did okay?"

"Yeah, you did," you say with a soft giggle that’s girlish and cruel. "You wanted this pussy."

His hips slap against your ass more quickly, several harsh thrusts before he stops, panting. You're smiling up at him, looking more devious than normal. He grips your wrists, holding them above your head, stretching you out before he pulls out and slams back into you.

"You gonna shoot your cum deep, Joel?" You ask with your tits bouncing in his face as he fucks you into the sofa. "Gonna watch me push it out?"

He groans gently as he slaps his hips against yours, his cock sawing in and out of you. He watches your body twitch, your hips rolling the best they can in your position. And then suddenly he feels his release imminent.

He pulls out of you, going to kneel on either side of your waist. You pout in disappointment. He grunts, jerking himself off aggressively, his teeth clenched and his wrist moving jerkily. You cup your breasts, silently presenting him his target. His cum soon splashes over your tits in milky ropes as he breathes raggedly.

And he should be finished. He's fucked you, he's cum. You're both panting and flushed but Joel is mortified to find he's not close to being finished.

"I'm still fucking hard," Joel groans.

He's still so turned on, shocked at how good you feel even after he's cum. It's been decades since he could fuck like this. He still sits up on his knees, but now he taps your thigh.

"Ass up. Now."

You do as he asks, presenting yourself to him without question. He grips handfuls of your ass, letting them fall together and clap for him before marvelling at your messy pussy as you arch your back for him. You're so fucking puffy and slick. Once again he slides in, pressing you into the couch underneath him.

You both gasp at how good it feels, your hand going to clench his stationed on your hip. Joel's mouth is at your ear.

"Just tonight and never again."

He needs to make it clear that after tonight this is done. No more games, no more seductions. This one night is all you get. He gradually picks up speed, watching your ass jump as he pulls out and thrusts as deep as possible. You look so good from this angle, all submissive.

"Need more," you groan over your shoulder.

"You're gettin' more sweetheart," Joel pants against your ear before straightening, his hands coming to spread your cheeks so he can watch himself pulling out. You coat the length of his cock in cum, leaving it shiny when he pulls out to admire how it looks. You feel even better when he then feeds it back into your twitching pussy.

"Yes, yes," you moan quietly, your hands gripping the arm of the couch in front of you. You bury your face in the pillow, not wanting your moans to be heard. You know you're drooling, your body his to use and to fuck.

"Gonna fuck your ass next," Joel promises as he thrusts, not knowing where this beast inside him came from. He gives your ass a slap. "You want that? Want me to fuck this sweet little ass?"

You want to nod but all your energy has left you; you just lay there and take him, feeling his fat cock filling you to the brim over and over. He forces your wrists behind your back, pinning them there at the base of your spine as he drives himself deeper. You're at his mercy and the realization makes everything in him tighten. He can do whatever he wants with you tonight.

"Joel you're so deep," you moan into the couch cushion, your body jolting with every jerk of his hips.

The blanket is forgotten on the ground, your naked bodies writhing on the couch in the very spot where you first rode him. Only now instead of being a reluctant participant Joel is in full control, his large body covering yours, flattening you against the cushions as he fucks into you from behind.

"I fucking deserve this," Joel mutters out between thrusts, tilting back his head. "Deserve to fuck this pretty pussy all night don't I?"

"Yes," you slur.

Your head tilts to the side, your cheek crushed against the cushion. Drool seeps out the corner of your mouth, your eyes rolled back into your head as the pleasure overtakes your body.

Joel feels animalistic, he feels powerful looking down at your body at his mercy. For a moment he feels affection for how much you clearly want this and want him. The look on your face is pure bliss.

"Gonna bounce for me after this," Joel tells you in an urgent whisper. "Gonna fuck you in my bed and you're gonna bounce on my cock."

"Yes."

"Gonna fuck you until you can't move," Joel promises, feeling lightheaded at the possibility of fucking you in that most sacred space.

Your eyes crack open and you glance up over your shoulder to see him red-faced, shiny with sweat, his teeth bared. His eyes are bright and almost feral, like a wild animal. He's beautiful in his ferocity.

"Finish inside me, Joel."

Joel knows that he should stop right now. He should grab a condom. He should check that you're on the pill. He should do so many things but all Joel can think of is filling you full of his seed. Of watching it drip out of your used pussy.

"I need to feel you cum inside," you groan gently, looking at him over your shoulder. "Please fuck your cum deep in me, daddy."

Joel holds in an eye roll.

This daddy shit again.

He thinks about ignoring it or denying you a chance to hear him say it. But you've been so good for him, so eager and so fucking tight. He's never going to forget the velvet clutch of you, how you're perfectly moulded for him, how responsive you are. He lowers his mouth to your ear, releasing your hands.

"Daddy's gonna fuck his cum so deep," Joel relents. "Gonna fuck you with his married cock. Gonna fuck his cum so deep you’ll be dripping for days."

"Fuck, yes," you moan into the pillows, your ass jiggling with every thrust. "Fuck it deep, Daddy!"

He watches the frenzy you work yourself into, gripping the side of the sofa and fucking yourself on Joel's cock by moving yourself back and forth. It's only seconds before you cum hard, drowning Joel's cock in arousal once more as your eyes pinch tightly.

"Daddy . . . Daddy . . . Daddy . . . "

It's a murmured chorus, a desperate plea as you ride your high, collapsing forward, only to have Joel continue pounding into you. Joel is so close, he feels his balls tightening as he fucks into you with brutality, the sharp slaps filling the room.

"Gonna take my cum like a good little whore," He groans, his cock almost a blur as he slides in and out of you. He pulls himself completely out before burying himself once more.

"Fuck yea I am," you moan softly, wishing you could see his face as he pounds into you. "I'm your good little cum-whore, Daddy."

Something about that phrase in your broken, whimpering voice has him there at the edge. His hands go to yours curled over the couch arm once more. He covers them with his own, using the momentum to pound into you as deep as physically possible. You head jerks with the power of his body driving into yours, your body completely at his mercy, your ass rippling with each thrust of him.

"Take Daddy's cum now," Joel groans, pushing in as deep as he can go. "Take it and---"

Anything else Joel was about to say vanishes as the room lights up and the familiar visage of his wife Angie appears her hand on the light switch.

She looks confusedly around before her eyes rest on the scene before her. She looks to see her husband curled over you, his cock wet and free of a condom. She sees the way your eyes are rolled body and how your body is positioned, succumbing to his violent thrusts before caught, Joel attempts to stop.

But he's too far gone, the buildup already mounting and before Joel can move you off of him or do something to salvage this, he comes violently.

And then so do you.

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cloudcountry · 3 months ago

Text

SUMMARY: you're so deeply in love with rollo flamme.

COMMENTS: this is my entry for my event the chimes of comfort!!

It’s hard not to admire Rollo when he works hard, his brow pinched and a scowl on his face. It takes everything in your power not to tuck those loose hairs behind his ear and trace the prominent cheekbones that make his pale face seem so hollow. He makes a soft tch noise, lips pursing in frustration, and you swoon.

You’re staring like a sap, you know that, but it’s hard not to when everything about him is absolutely enrapturing. His hooded eyes scan the mathematical equations faster than you can blink, his mind computing just how many ingredients he needs for each potion at unimaginable speeds. Your eyes drift down to the hand that grips his pen, the bones of his hand pressed against his skin as he writes, and you rest your cheek on my palm as you observe him.

It’s just so easy to love him. Serious, prickly, dedicated Rollo. It’s so easy to stay by his side, to know that he’s what you want. It’s so easy to imagine a future with him by your side, the only person who doesn’t see your lack of magic as a weakness, but a strength. Your heart flutters softly in your chest as you stare, taking him in like a work of art, a masterpiece.

You love him. You’ve loved him since you met two years ago and you'll love him forever, you just know it. Oh, what you would give to add a ring to those pretty hands of his, and him to call you his husband, for you to be Mx. Flamme, tied to him forever and always.

“Mon chou chou.” he murmurs, sounding almost mocking but you know otherwise, his eyes trained on your face, “Is everything alright?”

You can’t stop the dopey smile that blooms across your face, or the way your hands squeeze each other to stop themselves from reaching out to him. Mon chou chou, what a beautiful sound!

“It’s more than alright.” you laugh, as soft as the little bells he rings for you when you ask, the two of you indulging in gentle chimes right before bed.

It’s more than alright because I have you. And you’re beautiful.

“Focus.” he reminds you softly, a single elegant finger pressing against your review packet for potiontology, “I won’t permit you to slack off.”

“Right, right, it’s our final year.” you sigh, looking down at the half finished packet.

Your final year at Noble Bell. Graduation was a heartbeat away, your diploma almost within your grasp. Where were you going now? Would you go search the workforce for jobs, or continue schooling? You knew Rollo’s plans—ever the planner, that man—but had put very hesitant thoughts into your own. You didn’t want to mess up, or to become a burden on your family and him. The thought alone was almost too much to bear. You purse your lips, eyes drifting over to his face, searching his visage for answers.

There was that scowl again. Such a sweet sight from such a sweet man. Any focus you might have had melts like butter, and your smile returns, soft and full of love, completely distracted. You hear him scoff and mutter something under his breath (which sounds very much like oh for heaven’s sake) before he scoots his chair closer to yours. It’s like an electric jolt shoots straight up your spine when his knee knocks unceremoniously against yours, his hand resting on your thigh to keep you both steady.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.” he demands, leaning closer to you.

“I just...love you.” you say softly, a bit embarrassed at how intense your thoughts are and how little those four words cover it.

“I love you too.” he says it back and his voice is as stoney and soft as ever.

He’s new to being vulnerable, to letting his walls down, to being him.

“I love you so much.” your cheat heaves with your overwhelming emotions, your lips and mouth moving before you can think to stop them, “I love how sweet you are, I love your hands and your cheekbones too and I love how you pout when you’re having trouble with a problem, I love how you sound when you call me mon chou chou, it makes my heart race.”

Rollo blinks, staring at you with his usual standoffish expression. Even when he’s so close, he feels so distant. You take a deep breath and continue to talk, choosing your words more carefully and speaking slower.

“I want to stay with you as long as I can. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything I will want. I want to spend forever with you, when we graduate I just want to be with you. I’m not certain of anything in my future except for that. I just want to be with you. I want to live with you, to come back home to you or have you come back home to me it doesn’t matter, I want to make dinner with you and make breakfast for you, I want to wake up to your face everyday and I...I...”

You bite your wobbling lower lip—why are you starting to cry—and gaze upon your love with what you believe is the most yearning you have ever displayed.

“I just love you.” you repeat, because everything in your future is so uncertain, because you never know what could happen tomorrow, because magic could very well take you away just like it took his brother away, because he has nightmares about such things every night, because you want to grow old with him and die by his side, because you want your hearts and souls and everythings to be one.

“I...I don’t pout.” he huffs, turning away from you with red cheeks and shaking hands.

Ah. Of course he would be hung up on that.

“You’re pouting right now.” you giggle, “It’s cute.”

Rollo is silent for a few beats before he turns back to look at you, brow furrowed in that cutely serious way you know and love.

Vulnerability. He may not know he displays it so openly with you (and maybe he doesn’t, maybe you can just read him well enough), but you’re glad he does.

“You want to...marry me?” he clears his throat, placing his ringed hand over yours.

The symbolism of such an act is not lost on you.

He’s checking if he heard you right. If he read your intentions right.

“After graduation...I’d like us to think about it.” you reply, flipping your hand to intertwine your fingers.

Mx. Flamme sounds lovely. It sounds right. You know the name will sound sweet on your tongue when you tell people it’s your name, when you’re called over by a coworker, when your friends tease you with formalities. It’s the type of name that will give you happiness for as long as you live, the type of name that only the man in front of you can give you.

And that’s because it’s so irrevocably his.

“Your wish is my command.”

He raises your hand to his lips and kisses it—his lips brush over the knuckle of his ring finger and you shiver, It’s a promise.

No, more than that, it’s a vow.

“My sweet lamb.” he whispers, the words slipping under your skin and into your veins, passing right through your beating heart and rattling you from the inside out.

His lamb. His pure, unblemished lamb.

Your heart sings like a choir at the new name.

#the chimes of comfort #auburn's fics <3 #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #rollo flamm #twst rollo #twisted wonderland rollo #rollo x reader #rollo flamme #rollo flamm x reader #rollo flamme x reader

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yurinaa-world · 2 months ago

Note

Helloo ☆ I hope youre having a nice day 💫🌸 I was wondering if I can request Blade, Ratio and Sunday with reader who appears stoic/reserved and seems disconnected but is actually soft and cries/smiles easily around them 🥹 thank you!!

- 🪻

"𝒜 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Veritas Ratio & Sunday x Gender-neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who appears reserved and disconnected but is actually soft around him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

You are both soulmates from the outside, both reserved and disconnected….except you aren't, and he is, the complete opposites of each other. He likes it better when you’re alone anyway, you’re more expressive that way and only he enjoys that.

He likes that reassuring smile on your face the morning after you fixed up his wounds, asking him if he’s alright and if he’s feeling any pain but he can’t think about that right now, forget the pain for now.

He can’t help but get a little clingy—though his face just screams he’s going to murder someone, even if his body is sore he wants to see your face close-up, maybe even steal that smile off of your face.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Be careful, blade,”

Him Showing up late last night and injured wasn’t exactly in the cards for you there you were, and now you’re like his personal nurse, taking care of him in the morning. His chest and arms were all cleaned and bandaged to the best of your ability, all while he groaned at the sharp pain his body was in.

“Open up, it might taste a bit weird.” You smiled, trying to make him feel better as you spoon-fed him a bitter medicine, even the colour looked like complete muck, which just made him frown at the taste of it, injuries may not be a big deal to him but nothing is killing his tastebuds.

“Disgusting.”

“Please bear with it,”

He won’t bear with it, not in the slightest, instead, he’ll be selfish and want something more to clear his throat, getting rid of that bitter, disgusting taste, and you’ll be the victim of it. Touch his bandages all you want but he’s not going to let you leave, he’ll grab your hand and drag you down on top of him.

“Is something wrong?”

He’s a silent man, rather than doing something useful with his mouth instead of saying unnecessary things that you already knew, shoving his mouth on yours was more important, you could taste the bitter medicine in your throat, the taste getting more apparent the more he doesn’t want to let go of you.

“It’s better to bear with now.”

💫𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹"

You may be the only answer to his problems, he feels exhausted by his students, and after a long break they have forgotten everything he’s been teaching, and the vein on his forehead might explode.

His anger gets bad to the point he can’t help but rant to you about his terrible day of reviewing with his class.

He may calm down a little when you smile and laugh a little about his complaints, it’s not your fault the way he talks.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I wish to bash my skull on the table, these students will be the death of me.”

He's been ranting for a while now…and the whole time—going unnoticed by him since he’s very into his anger—you just wanted to laugh so badly, hearing his analogies with his complaints were truly testing you.

“Idiots, they incurable, truly I’ve failed as a teacher,” his monologue was cut short when you started laughing—it was like a jolt of realization, seeing you laugh at him like that yet he wasn’t very pleased.

“Seems like you’re enjoying this.” He stares back at you blankly as you calm down from your laughter. “I’m not but Veritas, if you keep stressing out so much, you might just grow gray hair already,” you smile, your hand gently creasing his hair to express your point more.

“I don’t want you to get wrinkles in the next few years.” you smile, it was a very gentle and natural one, not forced in the slightest which just made his heart skip a beat, your smile always made the tips of his ears red when you both alone with each, it might’ve also made him go soft as well.

“Any expression can contribute to wrinkles, even you’ll get some,”

In a low whisper, all under his breath so it wouldn’t reach your ears. “Yet even with wrinkles, you would look even more charming.”

Seeing this side of you makes him grateful of what he gets to see.

💫𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝒶𝓀 𝐹𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎"

He’s gotten many personal questions about you from many people outside of your relationship. It's insulting if he's being truthful, and they just don’t know when to stop prying when they need to. Those backhanded comments don’t go unnoticed by him, he’s not some idiot.

But it’s not the bad, words are just words unless the press gets wild and tries to do something then it’s something you shouldn’t worry about, not while he gets to see a different side of you that no one else gets the privilege to see.

Seeing you come with a pretty smile spread upon those lips, while you convince him to take a break and relax from all the papers he’s been doing. He might just do it since you’re the one asking (and he can’t resist that smile)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Sunday, you should take a break, or else your hands might cramp up from working so hard.”

A gentle smile plastered on those lips while you had his hand intertwined with your own, pressing it against your chest, almost as if you were giving him your blessing—it makes him feel as if he’s a teenager with a crush—gaze turning into a gentle one.

“I must’ve lost track of time, I didn’t mean to worry you, yet there still are many papers to do.” He sighs, before gently pulling his hand away—to not hurt your feelings—yet you grab onto his hand again—not wanting him to start back his work.

“Please take a break Sunday, I’ll only let you work if you take a break right now.” You conveyed, his hand can’t help but stare at both of your hands intertwined before taking a fresh breath of air at your intervention.

“If it makes you happy, then I’ll take a break,” A weary smile on his lips when your eyes light up at his agreement with your lips going back to that smile

“Yet I would like for you to stay with me.”

he loves the look of it, why don’t you keep it that way on his whole break? It’ll even motivate him to finish his work faster.

“If it helps you.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

#✧*:･ﾟ✧:･ Yurinna's Writing :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧#honkai blade x you #blade x reader #blade x you #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #star rail #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #honkai dr ratio #veritas x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

All In 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellllllooooo 😁

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The next morning comes too soon and with too little sleep. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t lay still long enough to get much rest. Every time you sunk into the shallows of sleep, you were just as quickly awoken by visions of the unknown. You don’t know anything beyond the time at which you’ll set off to your fate; nine o’clock.

You don’t need an alarm. You're already awake and alert. You sit up and rub your temples until the thumping dulls. You can’t entirely shake the pulsing thrum.

You drag yourself to your feet and cross to your dresser. You open each drawer, sifting through the contents with disappointment. You don’t have anything that nice. You pick out your nicest jeans and a halter top Roxie gave you. You’ll be sweating your bum off in the denim but you don’t have many skirts or even shorts.

You can hear your mother getting ready for her own day of work. Of actual work. You wait until she’s done to claim the bathroom. She’s off only a couple minutes after, calling out a goodbye and I love you that you return in a higher pitch than you mean to.

You dress and tidy yourself up as best you can. Your bedtime shower did little to help you sleep but at least it saves you a step. You spritz yourself with strawberry body spray and try to smile at your reflection as you put your toothbrush back.

Sigh. Did Bucky really call you sexy?

It’s not even eight. Lots of time to wallow in anxiety and self-doubt. You pace around the front room, ready to go, but not really. You have your purse with the fringe and your least-worn flats. They pinch around your toes but they’re cute; pink loafers with a little leather rose on each.

You cradle your phone then squeeze it hard enough to make it light up. Only a few minutes. Or not. You hear a car outside and peer through the curtain. You recognise the vehicle. Shoot, time to go. Oh, god, what are you doing?

You lock the door behind you and turn to face the gallows. Each step is filled with sand, your legs are heavy and your feet clunky. As you near, Merv appears to open the door for you. You’re surprised but not to find Bucky waiting within.

As you slide onto the seat, he watches you and rumbles out a silty, ‘morning, doll.’ You aren’t ready. You don’t know why but you thought the drive would give you time to toss away the last of your caution but you’re clinging to it like a raft. You feel entirely powerless. More than you ever have.

What he promises, money; you always assumed it would give you more control, that it would solve all your problems, but it’s really just a new set of problems. You settle onto the seat as the door closes and buckle your seat belt, focusing on the simple task. He stretches his arm over the back of the seat as you lean against it and his heat seethes into you.

“Good morning,” you force out at last.

“That’s a cute shirt,” he purrs as his hand wanders down to tickle your bare shoulder, your nude bra strap showing garishly. “Would look better without this.” He touches the strap and you make a noise. “But I can wait for that, doll.”

You stare forward. The divider between you and the front seat is up. You are completely alone. You feel your heart about to swell and split.

“I’ll admit, I was up late last night,” his arms shifts slightly as he leans forward. You only notice then the scent of coffee and two cups in the holders behind the console. “Got a pick-me-up to start the day. Gotta be awake for you, doll.”

He takes one of the cups and you realise, he means to offer it to you. You feel too bad to tell him you’re not much for coffee. “It’s called a blue dream tea latte? I think it’s blueberry or something. I saw it in some ad online. Sounded like something you’d like.”

“Oh, thanks, er, it does?” You murmur. You’d seen the same promotion on Pinterest. It’s a rather strange coincidence that he’d think of you. “I... I’ve never tried a tea latte.”

“Doll, I’m gonna give you lots of things you never had, take you places you never been,” he flutters his fingers across your neck as he retracts his arm. He grabs the other cup and groans as he sits back, blowing over the plastic lid. “So tell me,” his arms presses against yours. He seems so big sitting so close, “where’ somewhere you always wanted to go?”

“Er, I don’t...” your eyes drift over as Merv drives lazily through your neighbourhood, “know. I never... thought about it.”

“Anything you always wanted to do? Skydiving? Wait, yeah, you don’t like being high up. Makes sense, being so close to the ground, huh?” He chuckles and leans into you playfully, “you an outdoorsy type? You like hiking?”

“Um, I don’t know, I think... I like walking in the park sometimes,” you hold the cup with both hands, letting the warmth flow into your cold veins. You can smell the blueberry and you instinctively take wife through the slot of the lid.

“Mm, don’t worry, we’ll figure it out, doll,” he assures you and sips again, swallowing thickly before he lets out a thigh. “I think you’ll like what I got planned, even if you don’t know what you want. I’ve always been good at figuring that out, you know?”

“Oh?”

He laughs again, “you’re so cute, doll.” He looks over at you, “how’s the latte? Did I do good?”

Your eyes nearly cross as you stare at the cup. You bring it up carefully and take a dainty sip. You almost moan at the creamy but sweet taste. You pull the lid away and dab your lips with the back of your hand, turning to give him a wide-eyed look.

“It’s delicious,” you smile.

He grins and tilts his head, “see, doll, you don’t even gotta say it. I know exactly what you need.”

You’re breathless. Something about his tone, his words, mingles and coils around your throat. It’s like one of those old Wattpad fantasies you devoured in your teen years, those escapist dreams of having everything taken care of and not having to think, and yet, it’s too real. You take another drink to keep busy.

“After our first stop, we’ll eat,” he says, “that okay? You’re not ravenous?”

His words make you flinch. You blink and shake your head, “I’m okay.”

“Sounds good, doll,” he relaxes and once more extends his arms over your shoulders, this time hugging you closer.

He turns his head and nuzzles you, making you squirm. You’re rigid, paralysed by the proximity. You’ve never been this close with anyone. He still feels like a stranger.

“Mmm, strawberries,” he growls, “I like that.”

You giggle and barely keep a hold of your cup. You really can’t understand it. You never had interest from anyone. You didn’t even really have friends in school. Sometimes, you even think Roxie hates you, and your mom, well, she loves you because you have to. You just can’t comprehend what he sees.

“Thanks...” you wisp.

“No, thank you, doll,” he drawls, “for making my morning brighter.”

🃏

You doubt Bucky does anything in half-measures. Merv pulls up to another upscale building and you can’t help but gape out at the white brick facade. Everything is so big and fancy and better than you. You’re so out of place in his world that you can’t but wait for the moment he decides to kick you out of it.

The white-haired driver gets out to open the door. As you step out, your loafer slips off your heel and your foot slides down the curb. You trip outward, bracing yourself for impact, but don’t hit the ground. A hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back onto the seat. You cringe, happy at least that Bucky can’t see your face as he clings to you.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, “you hurt yourself?”

“No, no,” you wriggle in his grasp, “I’m fine. It was just... stupid.”

“Not stupid, good thing I was here to catch you, huh?” He reluctantly releases you, a caress along the back of your arm, “now you be careful. You need me to get out and carry you--”

“No, no!” You grab the car and push yourself out, fixing your shoe as you get your bearings. “Really, I’m okay.”

He chuckles and follows. It he laughing at you? You turn to face him as he steps up on the curb. It’s easy when he’s sitting to forget how small you really are.

“All good, doll, I just can’t have you getting banged up,” he says as he gestures you across the wide sidewalk.

You peer back as Merv shuts the door and Bucky brings his hand to your lower back, just like that woman at the casino. His gentle touch sends a chill up your back despite the beaming heat from above.

“Promise, you’re gonna love this.”

He urges you on to the front doors. They are made of iron, twisted in the middle, and two long handles curlicue in the middle. He stops and presses the little silver button along the side, a buzz muffled within. You wait, fidgeting, and presses his palm firmly to your back. You still yourself and clutch your bag tighter.

The interior doors, dark walnut, open inward and a woman appears within with a particularly snobbish look. She’s tall with straight shoulders and a Chanel style suit. She unlocks the iron doors and opens the right one. She eyes Bucky past her hooked nose as she lifts it higher.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greets.

“Meredith,” he returns, “thanks for having me.”

“Only for you,” she assures as her eyes fall upon you, “you’ve brought...”

“Someone very special. A connoisseur like yourself,” he insists, curtailing whatever she thought to remark.

“Yes, certainly she would be,” the woman accepts with a sniff and steps back, “please, come in. Should I have Charlene make tea?”

“I don’t think we will require it. Doll?” He pauses as he confirms with you.

You shake your head, “no thank you.”

“Very well, follow me, then,” she spins and struts away.

Bucky nudges you inside first, following through the narrow door. As he comes up parallel to you, a shadow appears to close the doors behind him. The whole experience is eerie. What is going on?

You follow the woman, Meredith, up the wooden stairs with a rose-printed runner along the center of the steps. At the top, you smell the definitive scent of books. She directs you into a room, opening the door but standing back to let you through. Bucky nods and thanks her one last time.

“You know the rules, Barnes,” she warns.

“Been a while...” he mutters.

“You remember,” she rebukes.

He laughs and pulls the door shut as she retreats, her heels clicking through the wall until they taper off to nothing. A record player drones from the corner and the window lets in the yellow sunshine, adding to the illumination of glass-shaded lamps. You peer around, as curious as you are confused.

Bucky brushes by you, knuckles rubbing against your waist, and he approaches the antique table at the center. Several stacks of books sit neatly piled atop it. You approach sheepishly and read the spines. You recognise the titles though you’ve never read any of them. As you think, you realise that these are the same books you have on your reading app. How could he know?

Your mouth falls open as you keep your hands folded together. You don’t dare to touch anything. It all seems so nice and likely expensive. And with how Meredith spoke, you’re certain she wouldn’t appreciate you putting anything out of place.

“She’s a book collector. I came here a few years back to buy some first editions for my sister,” he picks up a book.

“How...” you bend to read further down a stack.

“A lot you can learn about a person online,” he flutters through the pages, “isn’t there?”

You look at him and blanch.

“I know you Googled me. Everyone does,” he snickers, “it’s fine. Comes with the territory. But you...” he snaps the book shut and comes around the table, holding it out to you, “all I found were some books and a few pictures of a cat.”

You take the book and stare at the cover. Those pictures were old. Kai died at the end of high school. You run your hand over the embossed title; Middlemarch. You remember adding it after binging and old British series.

“My cat. She’s gone now,” you shrug.

“Sorry to hear that, doll,” he says. “I might know someone who can cheer you up, though.”

“It’s... fine. She was a good cat,” you shrug.

“Hm, yeah, but a friend, all the same,” he says, “so, you want it?”

“What?” You peek at the book again.

“All of them? I can have them packed and sent to your house.”

“Huh?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, “my mom...”

“Ah, it’s fine, we can sneak em in,” he assures.

“No, no, I couldn’t... it’s too much. Very nice but... must be... a lot.”

“It is, doll. Meredith gave me a damn headache tryna get in here on short notice but I did it,” he leans a hand on the table and hooks one foot over the other. “You gotta at least pick one thing to walk out of here with.”

“Oh, I... I wasn’t meaning... I didn’t mean to be ungrateful,” you rub your thumbs along the edges of the book, “sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re not, doll. You’re... adjusting. I’m doing my best not to scare ya away but you gotta bite the carrot a little here,” he says, “so grab a few and we’ll go have some breakfast.”

“I...” you look between him and the table. You have no doubt that he went to a lot of effort for this. For you. You can’t just throw it back in his face. “Thank you, it’s...” you turn to face the table and lean in to see more of the books. You let yourself smile, “it’s wonderful. No one’s ever... except mom...”

“Get used to it, doll,” he steps closer, his hand once more on your back, “with a smile like that, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing it.”

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #all in #au #casino au #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 7 months ago

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I think one of the biggest patterns we've been seeing in critical reviews of OFMD is just this very blatant refusal to engage with the show on its own terms.

Obviously, it's fine to not like a show for whatever reason. OFMD hits the perfect sweet spot of emotional, dramatic, and funny for me, and not everyone is going to feel the same way. More than personal preference, though, I've so often seen a failure to understand the show on the most basic level.

OFMD is a romcom. The relationship between the two leads is The Point of the Show. That's why it absolutely baffles me when I keep hearing people say "there's no plot" - yes the fuck there is! It's right there! You wouldn't get mad turning on a romcom and being like "why are they focusing so much on the relationship between these two characters >:( where's the plot?"

I think part of the problem is there's not a lot of Western shows that are so focused on a storyline like this, but OFMD is very clear about what it's doing. It's a character-driven story to the extreme. The big end-season plots about the English aren't actually about the English, so the action beats and villian characters don't get the same attention they would in another show because they're not the point, they exist only to tell us things about Ed and Stede and force them into situations to drive development for our central relationship.

OFMD never compromises from what it is. It's a campy queer romcom, and it's about pirates but it's not about pirates. And if you refuse to engage with the story it's trying to tell you about the relationship between these two guys, if you're not willing to try to empathize with them, then yeah. You're probably not gonna like the show because you're not interested in what it's giving you and you're demanding it give you something else instead.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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coconut-dreamz · 9 months ago

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you're losing me

'how long can we be a sad song' || tom blyth x reader

part two

a/n: i felt angsty and i love this song so i wanted to write something based off of it

you say, "i don't understand, " and i say, "i know you don't" we thought a cure would come through in time, now i fear it won't

the fights felt as if they were never ending lately. it hadn't always been this way, but that felt like a lifetime ago. the problems had started when tom began filming for tbosas but they had ceased when filming for it wrapped. but your relationship wasn't the same as it was before. now it was time for promotions and the fights had started up once again.

"i don't understand! why do we keep having to have this fight over and over again!" tom shouted. you scoff in disbelief at his outburst. he didn't know why you felt so insecure and jealous? it wasn't like you had told him at least a dozen times before.

"you know what, just go on your tour alone. i don't want to ruin it with our fighting." you resign, taking your already packed suitcase back into the apartment, away from the door. "you should go, the cab's waiting." you tell him quietly, unable to look up from the ground.

he just sighs, "alright, i'll see you in a few weeks." staring at you, waiting for you to look up at him. " have a safe flight," you look up at him, but refuse to meet his eyes. he just thanks you and heads out the door.

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

you sat in the dark room of your shared apartment with tom. you had picked it because of the view of the city lights, but now it just felt cold and desolate, like nobody lived here. in all honesty, it hadn't been lived in for awhile. with tom gone for movie promotions, you hadn't been able to be here alone, opting to stay with a friend instead.

you don't know where to go from here. should you salvage what remained of your relationship with tom? or should you scrap everything and start new?

the latter choice had been seeming more and more appealing as of late. you hadn't heard from tom in days. at first you chalked it up to him being busy and the time difference, but you saw he posted a new croissant review and realized he was ignoring you. where had it all gone wrong?

i'm getting tired even for a phoenix always risin' from the ashes mendin' all her gashes you might just have dealt the final blow

you had made the mistake of watching one of tom's latest interviews with his costar rachel. you watched it because you'd missed him, but now that you'd watched it, you wished you just stayed missing him. you didn't miss the way they looked at each other. it'd been so long since you'd looked at each other like that. your eyes were always filled with rage or tears whenever you saw him lately.

you were just so tired of it all. you contemplated texting him and breaking things off. it'd be a whole lot easier that way. maybe the weight on your chest would be lifted. but a part of you didn't want to let go of him. he'd been your everything once.

stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore for you 'cause you're losin' me

"how are you baby?" tom asks, his voice cutting through the silence, breaking you out of your reverie. he managed to find some time to call you while on his press tour. "huh? oh, i'm fine. how are you? how's press tour going?" you ask absentmindedly, hearing you ask about tour sparked a light in tom's eyes. he started rambling about the antics he and his cast mates had been up to.

you smiled fondly hearing him talk, until he mentioned rachel. she'd been a sore spot in your relationship lately. the mere mention of her name left a sour taste in your mouth. the grin on your face immediately swept off.

"it's getting late, i think i'm gonna go to bed. i hope the rest of your tour goes well," you fake a smile, trying to hurry to end the facetime call. "oh, i guess it is late over there. i love you, sleep well.” he bids you a goodnight. "love you," you reply and end the call. you bury yourself in your blankets, tired of the emotional turmoil that was caused by your relationship lately.

every mornin', i glared at you with storms in my eyes how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? i sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick my face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

you'd lost the glow your skin once had. it'd became increasingly noticeable to those around you. your makeup artist had to try harder to make it less noticeable on red carpets and photo shoots. but it was all in vain, everyone noticed how you'd looked sickly lately, everyone but tom.

or, if he did, he didn't mention anything about it. "you look great." he complimented as you two climbed into the car that was to take you to the premiere of his film. it had taken your makeup artist a lot longer than usual to do your makeup, having to cover up the blemishes and gray tone of your skin from the lack of care you'd given yourself lately. you’d been opting to lay around in bed, moping.

"thanks," you mutter as the car begins to move. you picked at your nails, something you'd picked up lately to help deal with your nerves. you no longer could have any type of nails, you'd bit them down to nubs lately. but tom didn't seem to have noticed. he didn't seem to notice anything about you lately.

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition now, you're runnin' down the hallway and you know what they all say you don't know what you got until it's gone

"stop! where are you going?" shit. you stop dead in your tracks, tom was home early for once. you'd thought he wouldn't back for another day or two. "did you hear me?" he makes his way in front of you. you try avoiding his gaze, but it was difficult when his icy blue eyes stared into your soul.

you tried to formulate the words to tell him it was over. "i'm leaving." you finally managed to say. his concerned eyes turn frantic at your words. "what?" he whispers out, grabbing your hand. "you're leaving? why?" you take a breath, you tried leaving when he was gone because you couldn't face him. "things haven't been the same lately. i think we need a break. i'm going to stay with a friend. i'll come back for the rest of my things later. i think it's best if we don't talk for awhile." you manage out, finally meeting his eyes.

what a mistake. his previously concerned eyes were now filled with sadness. you tried moving past him to your car. he grabs your hand one more time, "can you at least tell me what's wrong?" you sigh hearing this, "i think you know why, tom." is all you answer, dragging your suitcase behind you.

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army frontlines , don't you ignore me

it'd been a few weeks since you'd moved out of your shared apartment with tom. you felt relieved when you had finally walked out of the apartment. it had been feeling less like a home and more like a prison lately. you felt stuck in time in there. everyone around you was moving forward their lives, your friends, family and especially tom, but there you were. stuck waiting around for tom to give you the time of day.

you'd spend too long waiting around for your relationship to go back to how it once was. you'd given that relationship your all but got the bare minimum back in return. you should've called time of death on it months ago, but a big part of you wasn't ready to let go. you had spent your best years with him after all.

and i wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her

you and tom used to talk about the future all the time. laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and giggling about your thoughts on what the future had in store. you told him about your dream wedding and he told you about how he wanted a cozy home with a big yard for your future children.

but that seemed so far in the past. you suppose he changed his mind. who'd want to marry a person who'd give every piece of themselves for someone who won't even bat an eye at them? you'd given him your all in the last year of your relationship, but had gotten nothing in return. all in an attempt to bring back what you both once had.

and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" "lose something, babe, risk something" "choose something, babe, i got nothing to believe unless you're choosin' me"

you laid in the makeshift bed of your friend’s studio apartment waiting for tom to reach out. you were aware of what you had told him, but you wanted to see if he truly did care about your relationship.

it hurt to see him happy on set of billy the kid. you followed his castmates and it hurt to see the snippets of him on their stories. he looked so happy and carefree. the exact opposite of how you were feeling and probably looked.

you hoped he was just respecting your wishes of having no contact for a few weeks, but the small voice in the back of your mind was screaming that he didn't care. that he was happier without you, that he was better off now that you were gone.

you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me stop, you're losin' me i can't find a pulse my heart won't start anymore

a constant buzzing woke you up from your deep sleep. you blindly search for your phone. when you find it, the clock shows that it's exactly 12 in the morning. you hit answer without looking at the contact. "hello?" you answer, your voice raspy from lack of use.

"love? it's me, tom. it's been exactly 6 weeks like you said. can we finally talk?"

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth angst

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dragonnarrative-writes · 8 months ago

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im gonna be honest, I keep rereading pt 3 and 4 of the slasher handler and fantasising about how incredibly sexy it would be if kyle acquired a handler of his own by accident or on purpose and he finally understands simon's obsession now 😵‍💫

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle and Simon aren't friends, per se. They only met through Johnny, because Johnny is sloppy and impulsive and never knows how to clean up his own messes. It's offensive to Kyle's meticulous nature and, apparently, appeals to Simon's need for a pet.

Since Johnny's been serving time for the last nine months, with nine months to go (sloppy work, he's lucky Kyle was able to clean things up), Simon's gone to ground. Every now and then, news of his work pops up. Once, one of the victims had ended up at the hospital Kyle works at.

"The Ghost Killer strikes again! Ah...! Run...!" Kyle had muttered to himself, taking the unconscious young man's rapidly fading vitals. They'd found him in an abandoned building, an old hospital well outside of Simon's usual territory. Which means something has changed.

That evening, sipping a beer, he'd called Price on his burner.

"What can I do for you, Kyle?"

"Just letting you know that your dog is out of the yard. The big one, not the terrier," Kyle answers with a smile. "He left behind a bit of a mess, but there was only one little rabbit left suffering. I handled it."

Price had hummed on the other end. "I saw the news. 'S not like him. I'll check in." And then he'd hung up.

Months later, and Kyle finally has an answer when he catches Simon trailing behind a woman not once but three times. He's surprised to see her face, an old classmate and the justification for his second ever human kill. He's almost sad to know that she's been marked for death. When he hears about the Ski Lodge massacre and the Ghost copycat, he has a drink in her honor.

So it's a surprise when she reaches out to him online and asks to meet.

She's frazzled and wild-eyed when she sits in the chair across from him. She's also wearing one of Simon's beanies. And when she reveals what Simon's been up to, he can't help but laugh.

Simon - the weird, off-putting, murderous Ghost - has somehow managed to find the one person in the world who devotes herself to a project more than him. The Final Girl Girlfriend.

They're both doomed.

Kyle begins the painstaking process of reviewing his daily journals for mentions of Simon and their shared connections. It's very unlikely that Simon would be caught alive, and even more unlikely that he'd say anything about Kyle or Johnny or Price. But unlikely isn't impossible, so it's important to start getting his stories straight now.

Reviewing, flagging, and annotating his journals from his initial meeting with Johnny to now takes a month and three days. It's always an interesting process, looking at his life with the advantage of hindsight. There's always a new fascinating pattern to examine. For example, that first summer, he'd meet with Johnny every other week, and two and six days later, he'd gradually step up a patient's blood thinners.

Another pattern that's emerged is that he hasn't dated anyone for more than 35 days in the last three years. That's about as long as it takes for his exacting nature to become... a conflict. It's not much of a problem. He's a nurse, he works long hours. He's got a gym routine and volunteers at the local pet rescue once a week. He's a part of the community, so he doesn't stick out as a loner. But he's also solidly at a point in his life where someone would expect him to have a partner.

He makes an online dating profile. It takes a week for him to delete the app.

"Darlene," he greets the head nurse with a smile and her favorite coffee at the beginning of his next shift. "How are you today?"

"Kyle." As always, she barely glances at him, just holds out her hand for her drink. "You're early. What do you want?"

She's right, he's thirty minutes early. He grins. "You wound me. Can't I just want to know how a beautiful woman is doing?"

Darlene gives him a blank look over the top of her bifocals. "Save it for the maternity ward, Garrick. What do you want?"

"Just wanna know the lay of the land," he says, coming around the desk and taking the seat next to her. He likes Darlene because she only expects him to be coy for a short time. "Been on the apps, trying to date. But my hours make things difficult. You know everybody's business. How is anyone in a relationship around here?"

"The surgeons are all on meth, the rest of the doctors are on coke, and the nurses are either fucking each other or their high school sweethearts," Darlene says, dry as a desert. "You know this already. What do you actually want?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug. "Just want to know who's not seeing anyone, or if you know of someone at another campus with the time."

She takes a sip of her coffee and thinks for a moment. "Stay off the psych and plastics floors. Maternity floor's about to get a whole new batch since all of those idiots got pregnant within three months of each other. But there's something in the water up there, so unless you also want a baby, I'd say leave them alone."

"James is on the maternity floor," Kyle points out.

"James cheated on his boyfriend and his side piece with another nurse," Darlene points out, settling into her coffee and gossip. "Which is another reason to stay away from plastics, but also trauma and rads. I didn't know you were bisexual."

"Doesn't come up much," Kyle dismisses, sipping his own coffee.

By the time Kyle has to clock in, they've explored the pros and cons of almost every department. The prospects are pretty grim. Maybe being single isn't the worst thing in the world.

He makes a point of spending time with the other nurses for the next month. He goes out for drinks and karaoke, attends a couple of baby showers. Lets on to a couple of gossips that he's looking, tells another that he's not sure he has time to date. Enjoys the conclusion of a project when a racist old bastard finally has the heart attack he can't bounce back from.

And then the nurse coroner flags the death for investigation.

Kyle doesn't panic because technically all deaths in the hospital are investigated. But he is intrigued. His own notes show that the patient's condition was well within the expected parameters of recovery and relapse. His medications were administered appropriately while Kyle was on shift, and the hydrogen peroxide added to his IV would have been nigh undetectable.

In the end, the hospital is not determined to be at fault for the death, and that's all that administration cares about. But the cause of death is changed from heart attack to embolism in the record, and that is intriguing.

"Knock knock," Kyle says, poking his head into the office area of the morgue. He expects to see Dennis, the older gentleman running the morgue unit, who waves back at him. He doesn't expect the new face, sitting across the desk from him.

"Good morning, Kyle," Dennis greets, waving him in. "Been a bit since you've come to see us. Care for some tea?"

"Can't," Kyle says, apologetically. "Just dropping someone off."

"Well, at least let me introduce our new nurse!"

The new nurse gives him a no-nonsense handshake and a nod. They don't say much beyond their name, and Kyle is pleased to put a face to the name on the investigation into his last project. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he couldn't stay long, so he says his goodbyes.

But when his next completed project is flagged for investigation again, he decides that maybe it's time to take an interest.

#cod #fanfiction #dark fic #slasher handler #kyle gaz garrick #gaz appreciation nation #dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #coffeeshop chats #thank you so much for this ask #this really helped me push through the writers block!

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moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

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Chapter 6 - The New Role

Name used for reader Dani, It's just personal preference I don't like using Y/N.

Summary: Simon x reader. 5.3k words. You want to be more involved with the more dangerous side of the job. Which means you and Simon are forced to talk about your feelings and what this means for you both.

CW: smoking, alcohol, vomit, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied SA (not 141), hurt/comfort, feeeelings.

AN: Don't be too put off by the content warnings this chapter is VERY fluffy, a lot of fluff and people being bad at feelings.

Previous - masterlist - Next

AO3

Enjoy <3

1 Month later.

You’re sat in John’s office. He’s looking over papers, like it’s a real performance review, for a real job you’ve been doing for the past month. He hums looking back over at you.

“So how’s it been?” He asks putting the papers down. You look at him, it’s almost like what happened a month ago was just a one time thing. You haven’t even been in the storeroom since. They still talk around jobs like it’s a real company. There was something burning inside you now. You wanted more. You wanted to be part of their world.

“You know, good,” you say shrugging. He presses his lips together waiting for you to say more.

“Something wrong?” He asks after a few more seconds of silence. You shake your head. How would you even ask? Maybe you could ask for another ride along.

“The job is very easy, I could easily continue to do it no problem..” You trail off you’re not sure how to word it.

“But?” He asks leaning forward on his desk.

“I want to be more involved, I want to help with the special cases.” You say. He takes a big breath.

“I know what you’re going to say. I’m not a soldier, and I’m not a ‘professional’ like you guys. But I’m discrete and loyal, and I’m good a keeping secrets.” You stop yourself realising you’re not really saying much of anything. John frowns his gaze turning serious.

“You don’t want to get yourself involved in this, it’s messy work.” John says, it’s almost like a warning.

“I do I want to. I want to help people the way you helped me.” You reply quickly.

“It’s not always that simple we can’t always help everyone.” He says leaning back in the chair.

“Well I’d like to try at least.” You say, it sounds like a plea but you mean it. He lets out a big sigh.

“It can be dangerous you could get hurt.” You feel a pit forming in your stomach. He’s not wrong. Is it worth the risk?

“I know.” You say keeping eye contact with him.

“You can’t tell anyone what you do.” You nod, you haven’t been telling anyone anyway.

“You might see and hear things you don’t like.” He says sitting up straight. You nod. The pit is not going away. You know he’s trying to get you to back down but you’re not going to.

“I want to be involved John.” You say mustering up all the courage you have. He sighs.

“Fine, I’ll talk to the others see what jobs are lined up.” He says closing the folder on the table.

“Thank you I won’t let you down.” You say getting up.

“Oh by the way, we didn’t see you for drinks last time are you coming tomorrow?” He asks. You feel like you have to make it now.

“Yeah I’ll be there.” You say turning to walk out the door. You close it behind you giddy as you see Johnny sat over on the sofa looking at a tablet.

“How’d it go we got you fer another month?” He asks smiling as you walk over to him.

“Of course what would you do without me.” You joke. Sitting down next to him. He closes the tablet down.

“Johnny where’s LT he was supposed to be back 15 minutes ago?” Kyle says from the top of the stairs. Johnny shrugs.

“Have you tried calling him?” Johnny suggests.

“He never picks up when I call.” Kyle says coming over to sit in the recliner.

“Here use my phone.” Johnny says throwing his phone to Kyle.

“Why do you call Simon LT? I thought is nickname was Ghost?” You ask, Johnny chuckles.

“It is. Simon used to be a lieutenant so sometimes we still call him LT.” Johnny explains.

“What does that mean was he like a high rank or something?” You ask. You see Kyle smile.

“Kind of, he was a rank below Price, so he was the second in command.” Johnny explained.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t talked about it before.” Kyle says pressing Johnny’s phone up to his ear.

“Si’s not one to boast, you know that Gaz.” Johnny says nudging you. You don’t talk much about his military past, he tends to stay away from it. Maybe now would be a good time to get some stories though. Your head looks up as John comes out his office.

“Where’s Simon he was supposed to be back 20 minutes ago?” John asks.

“Have you tried calling him?” Johnny says, you can’t help but chuckle. John mutters something under his breath and goes back into his office. Gaz hangs up the phone.

“Try again he never picks up the first time.” Johnny says winking at Kyle.

“I miss the days we could just radio each other and we would have to answer.” Kyle says sighing.

“Ah yes Price yelling ‘how copy’ in my ear every 3 seconds is definitely something I miss.” Johnny says sarcastically.

“So how come John doesn’t have a nickname? You just call him Price.” You ask Johnny. Kyle moves seems like Simon has picked up the phone.

“Don’t know, he’s always just been Price, or captain. Maybe you should ask him, tomorrow after a few drinks.” Johnny winks at you. You sit back on the sofa as Gaz comes back.

“He hung up on me said Price was calling him.” Kyle says as he sits down handing the phone back to Johnny. You smile.

“What do you need him for anyway?” Johnny asks. Kyle sighs. You know that sigh its the ‘special job’ sigh. The one they think they’re so good at hiding but you’re picking up on it, on all the little mannerisms.

How Simon only picks the phone up first time if it’s John, how Johnny always asks Simon for help before Kyle, if only just to piss Simon off. Kyle and Johnny tell each other literally anything and everything unless you’ve explicitly told them not to say anything. John’s nickname might as well be dad with the amount of times they run to him with silly little problems.

You see Simon pull his van into the building. Johnny gets up going to the balcony looking down.

“Welcome home honey, I’ve missed you so much.” Johnny coos with a high pitched voice as Simon gets out the van. You smile, Johnny will take any opportunity to wind up Simon. John walks out his office, Simon looks up at him.

“Oh honey, I can explain! He’s no one I love you baby.” Johnny says walking over to John. Gaz starts laughing. You watch as John shakes his head and Simon heads up the steps.

“Come on we need to have a chat, all of you.” John says looking over at you. You nod getting up as everyone piles into his office. Price leans up against his desk looking at us all.

“So Dani and I had a chat and she asked to be involved more with some of the other jobs we do.” Price says, everyone turns to look at you. The only person you want to see is Simon. Half of his face is covered by a mask so you can’t read his expression as easy. No one says anything as you feel yourself blushing.

“We’ll take it slow, she’ll follow you around see if it’s definitely something she wants to get involved in.” John explains, you smile at him as everyone turns back to look at him.

“Simon, you’ve got the easier jobs next week. She’ll follow you till Wednesday. Until I can find a replacement you’ll have to spend Thursdays and Fridays catching up with the work you’ve missed.” You nod. Simon sighs, it’s a long sigh almost a huff almost like he’s annoyed or something.

“Problem?” John asks looking at him.

“No.” He replies. John nods.

“Good okay, it’s been a good week. Don’t forget to empty the vans before you leave.” He says standing up and going round to the other side of his desk to sit down. Everyone starts getting up to leave. Simon’s eyes catch yours as he turns. You can see something in them. Is he upset? Angry? Johnny throws his arm round your shoulders.

“Joining the big boys club now!” He says cheerfully as he leads you out. Simon heads straight down the steps your head snaps to him following him as Johnny leads you back over to the sofas.

“We’ve got to have a celebration drink!” Johnny exclaims going over to the kitchenette.

“We’re already going out tomorrow, besides I have to drive home.” Kyle says.

“I’ll have to pass too.” You say. You want to speak to Simon, you want to go home.

“Party poppers the both of ya’s.” Johnny says putting the scotch back in the cupboard.

You look down as you hear the storeroom door slam closed.

——————————

Simon doesn’t come over Friday night, and you don’t hear from him all day Saturday. You don’t know why he’s been avoiding you but you confirm with Johnny that he’s coming for drinks tonight. Maybe he’ll open up after a pint or two. You spend the day distracted, you try to convince yourself it’s not that bad.

You spent such an amazing month together and now he’s basically giving you the cold shoulder. You thought you had something special. He’s so caring, gentle, nothing like the Simon you know at work who hides his face. He’s been helping you recover, if you can even call it that. He’s there when you wake from nightmares, careful not to step out your comfort zone without asking. He understands you.

You love him.

You didn’t want to admit it, scared it would drive him away.

You realised it a few nights ago while you were curled up on the sofa watching some cheesy romantic comedy. He laughed at some stupid joke. It was the first time you’d seen him laugh, properly laugh. It made your heart flutter, you looked up at him as he stroked your arm, massive grin on his face. You almost just blurted it out right there and then.

You’re not the type of person to move on so quickly. Two months after your ex and you’re already sticking your tongue down another mans throat. At least you haven’t fucked him yet. The thought makes you shiver. Not because you don’t want to, you do. You just can’t.

When he’s around though you can’t help it, your eyes soaking up every part of him. Sometimes he sleep’s topless, you just lay there watching his chest rise and fall. You’ve made a mental note of each scar he has making up stories in your head about how he got them.

You move from the bedroom to thumb through the stack of mail that has been gathering dust over the past few days. Water bill, spam mail mostly trash. Then you see a hand written letter, the address is handwritten in beautiful calligraphy and the paper is almost shiny. You open it it’s an invitation, to Joe’s funeral. You feel sick reading over the contents of the letter.

You remember the officers coming the day you found out about his suicide. You grilled Simon about it but he wouldn’t go into details, kept telling you they just ‘ruffed him up a bit’ whatever that meant. You slide the invite back in the envelope almost wanting to will it to go away. You want to hide it, you’re not sure why, you pick your sock drawer shoving it down and to the back between your fluffy winter socks. You feel sick, now you want to get out the flat you look at the clock it’s only 6. You pull out your phone and text Johnny.

Wanna meet for that celebration drink before 7?

You don’t have to wait long.

Sure thing usual place? I’ll be there in 15.

You smile, you really need to get out of this flat.

——————————

“So Simon talked to you yet?” Johnny asks winking. You and Simon haven’t really spoken about what this means, you and him, where you stand. You definitely haven’t been telling anyone.

Johnny acts like he knows, maybe he does or maybe he thinks he knows. Whatever the case whenever you two are alone he always asks about Simon and winks like you’re about to spill the dirtiest secret.

“Why? I talk to him at work.” You say taking a big gulp of your second cider, you were drinking it like water. Anything to quell the nerves, stop your mind from racing and your hands shaking. The cigarettes you’d smoked on the walk here weren't cutting it.

“Don’t worry ‘bout his reaction lass. He’s a grumpy sod when he want’s to be.” Johnny says sipping his beer.

“It’s alright.” You say sighing. It’s not you miss him.

“He’ll be over it in a week just you watch.” Johnny says. You want to believe him you want to think it’s all going to be okay. Simon does this, when he’s mad or upset about something, it’s like he reverts inwards. Doesn’t want to talk or even look at you.

There had been a few days like that over the past month. He usually just mopes around the flat limiting contact until he feels better. Or worst case he messages you to say he’s staying home. You had never been to his place you didn’t even know where he lived.

You don’t know how you would feel being in another mans flat. Maybe it was better you were always at your place. You let Johnny talk only half paying attention to what he was saying while you finished your drink. You offer to get the next round taking the empty glasses to the bar. You’re waiting for the order when you feel someone place a hand on your back. You freeze.

“Hey,” It’s Simon you relax, letting your shoulders drop.

“Where have you been?” You ask trying not to sound mad at him. It’s nice to feel him near you again.

“Had some thinking to do.” He says, you scoff.

“You mad at me?” You ask as the drinks are put in front of you, you smile at the bartender paying.

“No ‘course not.” He says. You pick the drinks up. You turn to look at him. He seems distracted about something, his eyes are soft, his expression warm in the pubs glow. It’s almost like he think’s nothing has changed over the last 48 hours and he hasn’t just been ignoring you.

You walk past him going to the table sitting down. John and Kyle are here now too taking their coats off and scooting into the booth next to Johnny. You put the drink down in front of Johnny taking a big gulp of yours. You listen to John talk as he explains something about an old General getting in contact with him about something. Simon comes back with the drinks and sits next to you.

You try to relax, you want to talk to Simon. Not here though, maybe if he could come back to yours tonight. You should have asked him at the bar. When you’re halfway finished with your cider you take your coat going out for a smoke.

You don’t know if Simon will join you but you hope he could take the hint. You’re stood off the path inhaling the smoke letting it warm your lungs. The nights are getting colder, summers coming to an end.

“Johnny said I’ve pissed you off.” Simon says, you look over to see him lighting his cigarette. You chuckle shaking your head.

“You haven’t pissed me off.” You say even though it comes across a little more hostile then you expected. Simon takes another step to be beside you.

“Sorry I haven’t been round.” He says. You shake your head.

“It’s okay, I missed you.” You say nudging him. His hand wraps his hand round your waist.

“You seemed mad about me wanting to help out with the special jobs.” You say looking up at him, he blows out a mouthful of smoke looking down at you.

“Not mad just worried.” He says looking away.

“I’ll be fine.” You say not really knowing what to say. You’d had a month to think about this. You’d spent all that time trying to get as much information from Simon, Johnny and Kyle. They hadn’t given you much, talking around the jobs like it’s no big deal. John said you could get hurt, but so could Johnny, or Kyle, or Simon. The thought of Simon getting hurt made your stomach knot, you didn’t want to imagine him being hurt.

“Besides, you could get hurt as much as I could.” You say. It’s mostly a mumble, your head spinning with the alcohol. He sighs.

“I’m trained to deal with the worse possible things. You’re not you’re just..You’re just.” He stops he’s trying to think of the words.

“What I’m just a woman? Not a soldier? Not strong enough?” You spit out. He shakes his head dropping his hand from your waist.

“You’re safe. This isn’t your life, you don’t have to worry about the bad shit we do. It’s not always easy shit like stalkers or surveillance. Sometimes-” He stops himself. Like he doesn’t want to say whats next. He steps closer to you and you turn your body so his back is facing the street.

“Sometimes we have to get our hands dirty.” He says quietly.

“You said you don’t kill people anymore.” You grit through your teeth, keeping your voice down. He sighs.

“Sometimes things happen, situations can change in an instant. Look what happened to Johnny when you first started. He got shot could have died.” He says. His hand moves to grip your arm like he wants to shake you and get you to listen to him.

“What do you think happened to the people shooting at him?” He asks. You hadn’t thought about it, or maybe you just didn’t want to think about it.

“You said he was shot for being stupid.”

“He was but he was still shot. He survived because he has years of training.” Simon says. His eyes are burning into you.

“It’s not going to change my mind I already had the speech from John.” You say. Simon sighs dropping his hand from your arm.

“What did he say. It’s dangerous? You could get hurt? Clearly he didn’t try that hard.” Simon scoffs, you don’t know why you feel insulted by that.

“I just won’t get shot at.” You say holding your hands up, you don’t know what to say to him. You know you can do this you want to try at least. Your cigarette is almost completely gone now as you flick the ash away.

“No one goes on a job planning on being shot at.” He says. “That’s not the point I don’t want you getting hurt.” You stand there looking at him as he hangs his head letting out a big sigh.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t see you hurt…I love you too much.” You gasp, you don’t mean to you just weren't expecting that. For a second you think you’ve misheard him you’re just stood there with your mouth hung open. You had no idea he felt that way.

“Simon.” Your voice catches in your throat. You flick the cigarette butt on the floor. He shakes his head. You reach up and squeeze his arm. You want to say it too. Tell him how you really feel. You swallow getting the lump out your throat.

“I don’t know what love feels like it’s been…Years. Whatever this is what we have, whether it’s love, I don’t know. I just, I want you so bad.” He flicks the rest of his cigarette away putting his hands on your shoulders. You look him in the eyes, they’re wide looking into you like he’s trying so hard to tell you something he cant put into words.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. I need to be around you, have you in my life. If you do this, I could lose you.” He stops it almost sounds like he’s pleading. You don’t know what to say. You feel guilty, you didn’t know how he felt maybe you should have spoken to him first. You thought if you did it could start an argument, or he would try to put you off maybe even try to get you fired. Your brain is still used to your ex, not Simon.

Simon who’s spent the last month practically living at your place, who spends as much time as possible with you and still respects your boundaries. He’s never so much as raised his voice at you for any reason, he still sleeps on the sofa when you’re having bad nights. He’s patient and kind nothing like your ex.

“I’m sorry.” You say hanging your head. You are sorry, you mean it. He pulls you into his arms.

“It’s okay I should have been honest, told you how I feel.” He says kissing the top of your head. You can do it you can tell him.

“Simon.” You grip your arms round him tight, bunching his shirt up in your hands. “I think I love you too.” You feel his hands loosen on you like he wants to pull away to look at you. You grip him tight not moving.

“Just hold me for a second.” You say into his chest.

“Okay, I got you.” He says going back to squeezing you in his arms. It’s almost like you can feel your heartbeat in your ears thumping away from the adrenaline of telling him how you feel. It shouldn’t be this hard. You think to yourself. Maybe if he knew how fucked up you really were he wouldn’t feel this way. You close your eyes for a second breathing him in. All you can smell is cigarette smoke, you don’t care though his warmth is enough.

“Let’s go back inside.” He says after a few more seconds. You nod even though your head is still buried in his chest. Reluctantly letting him go so you can break apart.

“Will you stay at mine tonight?” You ask before he leads you away.

“‘Course.” He smiles.

——————————

You stay out later then you expected. Feeling like a weight has been lifted off you enjoying your time with everyone. You’re quite drunk when John finally calls it quits and everyone takes that as the cue to leave. Johnny is also pretty inebriated when he goes to get up, having to lean on Kyle for support. He’s even more unsteady on his feet then usual, hobbling around winking at everyone he bumps into. It makes you laugh, not that you’re any better having to rely on Simon to hold you up as you stumble your way out the pub.

“You get her home and I’ll make sure, these two make it back safe.” You hear Price sigh as Simon’s hand finds your waist pulling you up against him.

“Price, Si!” You hear Johnny shout, Simon turns and you turn with him to see Kyle doubled over vomiting into a drain.

“It’s like Spain all over again!” Johnny rubs Kyle’s back. You feel Simon chuckle, John shakes his head going over to Johnny and Kyle.

“What happened in Spain?” You ask as you watch John help Kyle stand back up straight.

“Johnny and Gaz went out and got drunk with some marines. They came back to the base so drunk they woke up the base commander. He was so mad he had them running laps until sunrise. Kyle must have stopped every few hundred meters to chuck his guts up.” Simon says as you turn to walk away.

“What about you?” You ask.

“I was sleeping, peacefully I may add until Price woke me up to keep an eye on them while he got his ass handed to him by the base commander.” He chuckles and you reach your arm round his back.

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun.” You say smiling.

“Yeah well, there were some fun moments between missions.” He says sighing.

“Do you miss it?” You ask.

“Sometimes, the good doesn't always out way the bad though.” You hear him sigh again. You keep a tight hold of him as you walk back to your flat. It’s cool and the breeze makes you feel light headed. You’re stumbling over your own feet as you walk up to the first floor where your flat is. You pull your key out your pocket. Simon takes it out your hands opening the door and guiding you inside. You both kick your shoes of at the door then he sets you down on the sofa, as you hear him going into the kitchen.

“Hey Simon?” You say leaning back.

“Yeah?”

“Did you really mean it? When you said you loved me.” You wait for a response not hearing anything. You don’t even hear him walk beside you as he hands you a glass of water. For how big he is he really is quiet on his feet. You take the glass sipping it as he sits down next to you.

“‘Course I meant it.” His hand rests on your thigh. It makes you pause. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been drunk, at least this drunk. Let alone around a guy. Your ex loved you being drunk, said he made things easier. It did make things easier, it was better then being sober.

“I meant it too.” You say to him. He smiles taking the glass from your hand and placing it on the table before you spill it.

“I know you did.” He says squeezing your thigh. It makes you swallow hard. As you do you feel bile rising in your stomach. You don’t have much time to react as your hand slaps over your mouth. You don’t want to throw up but you can’t stop yourself rushing into the bathroom and heaving into the toilet bowl. You feel Simon’s hand on your back pulling your hair out the way into his hand. You keep throwing up in the toilet until you’re dry heaving.

You reach up pulling the flush. Simon lets go of your hair bending down in front of you passing you the glass of water. You take little sips cleaning your mouth out before gulping the rest down. You look up at him through hazy eyes as you brush your hair out your face.

“Sorry, I haven’t drank this much in a while.” You say your throat still raw.

“It’s okay.” He says taking the glass out your hand as you reach it out for him. He helps you to your feet as you wobble in his arms.

“Lets get you to bed.” He says. You nod blindly following him across the living room, almost tripping over the carpet.

“You’re so drunk.” He says guiding you over the bed. You flop down not quite understanding what’s going on. You remember the vomiting, that was real, you can still taste it in your mouth.

“Simon,” you call as you feel his hands leave your body.

“Yeah?” he calls back.

“Don’t sleep on the sofa it’s bad for your back.” You say. You reach under your shirt pulling off your bra flinging it across the room.

“I won’t sleep on the sofa.” He says pulling the duvet over you.

“Good, it’s not good for your back.” You murmur. You hear him mumble something as you grip the duvet settling down into bed. You think you hear a light switch you’re not sure, you don’t even remember falling asleep.

——————————

You wake the next morning with a ringing in your head. The bedroom blinds are wide open. You don’t remember making it home, you turn over in the bed it’s empty. You’re pretty sure you remember Simon walking you home. Did he not stay the night? You get out of bed pressing on the bridge of your nose trying to get the ringing to stop.

As you walk into the living room you see Simon spread out on the couch. He’s far too big for it but you can’t help but smile as the sheet he grabbed out the wardrobe barely covers him, not leaving much to the imagination. You see his jeans bunched up on the floor and you reach down picking them up and laying them over the back of your armchair. He’s snoring softly as you make it into the kitchen.

You try to be as quiet as possible pouring yourself a glass of water and gulping it down as you take some mugs out to make tea. You try to think back to last night. You remember Simon saying he thinks he loves you. That made you smile. You remember telling him you think you love him.

It feels like you’re back in primary school when you didn’t know what love was but you had a crush on some random boy. Do you even remember what love is? Your ex said he loved you and you loved him at some point, before he moved in at least. You don’t even hear Simon coming up behind you just his hands round your waist. You reach forward and click the kettle on taking a box of teabags out.

“You shouldn’t sleep on the sofa it’s bad for your back.” You say as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

“You got so drunk last night.” He chuckles as he watches you spoon sugar into the mugs.

“Yeah,” you say feeling embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I guess I just. I don’t know. I should have been more careful.” He breathes into your neck grabbing your waist and pulling you round to face him.

“You don’t have to apologise. It was nice to see you let your hair down and relax.” He says his thumb stroking your cheek. You don’t have to apologise, even after a month you’re still reverting back to old habits. You look at him until the kettle clicks, he reaches down kissing you on the forehead.

“You’re not still mad at me for asking to join you guys on the special jobs.” He sighs letting go of your waist siting down at the kitchen table.

“I was never mad. Just worried.” He says. You pour the water then bring the mugs over.

“Yeah, I know. I want to help people though, the way you guys helped me.” You say taking the milk out the fridge then going to sit opposite him.

“I know you do. I just wish there was a safer way for you to do it then getting involved with this stuff.” He takes the milk pouring it in his cup. You sigh waiting for him to finish. You remember the conversation yesterday, with Simon and the one with John. You still wanted to do this nothing has changed.

“We get to work together, at least we’ll always be close.” You say smiling at him. He hums blowing on his tea.

“Let’s not think about work at least not today. Let’s spend the day together we’ll do what ever you want.” You say as you watch his hand reach across the table for yours. You slip your fingers between his.

“I love you.” He says squeezing your hand. Hearing him say it makes you smile before you even realise it. You squeeze his hand back looking into his chocolate eyes, being lit up by the morning sun.

“I love you too.” You reply. It felt real.

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#call of duty #cod #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfic #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #retired 141 #cod 141

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buttsmasher · 10 months ago

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Gage (Edited)

Been trying to go through my old stories and slowly re-upload them after I give them a review. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Tags/Warnings: Fag bashing, face farting, willing victim turned to unwilling, asphyxiation by farts, fart torture

Gage is a grade A prick. You pretty much learned that the moment he moved into the house. Your other roommate literally moved out because he couldn’t stand him. The only reason you’ve stayed is because the rent is cheap and the landlord isn’t complete trash. The other reason is that you have a sort of hate crush on Gage.

You understand he’s a prick and he seems like a bit of a fag basher, but dude has a rockin bod. And he has no sense of other people’s personal boundaries. One time when you had friends over, he walked out of his room completely naked to get a beer out of the fridge. Which you didn’t mind too much because you got front row seats to watch his ass jiggle. Your lesbian friends were mortified of course. Especially when he started to shake his hips to make his dick flop around. After that, you’ve all decided to do movie night at their house now to avoid any more incidents.

The other thing about Gage is that he’s a literal gas bomb. The dude is constantly gassy and it may make your dick strain against your shorts when you’re both watching TV and he lifts a leg to let out a massive fart. And look, if you’re secretly there taking quiet inhales of his stinky gas then no one needs to know.

It all comes to a head today though. You keep a journal, and you may or may not have written all your dirty fantasies about Gage in them. Looking back at it, probably not the best idea, but too late to change that now.

You’re in the kitchen making scrambled eggs when Gage comes into the kitchen. “Good morning.” You mumble to him, not fully expecting an answer. He opens the fridge and pours himself a glass of OJ as he plays on his phone. He laughs at something before walking towards the kitchen table.

“Hey fart slut, what’s for breakfast?” You freeze. Did he really just say that? He snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Yo, fag, I’m talking to you.” You slowly turn to look at him.

“Uhm, Scr-scrambled eggs?” You don’t know why it came out as a question.

“Cool, I want cheese on mine.” He doesn’t even look at you as he plays on his phone.

“Oh, uhhh, I didn’t make enough for the both of us.” You look at the pan and push it around.

“It’s fine, just give me yours.”

“What?” He locks eyes with you.

“Let me put it another way. Give me your breakfast and I don’t post your dirty fart fantasies online.” You try to stay calm but you’re freaking out. You turn back around fully and focus on finishing the eggs, throwing cheddar cheese on top right before you finish. Your hands are shaking as you plate the food and bring it over to Gage.

“Anything else?” You say nervously placing the food and a fork down in front of him.

“Tabasco.” He doesn’t look up from his phone, you just do as he says. “Sit.” He says as you go to make yourself more scrambled eggs. “I gotta say, you’re pretty nasty. I mean, to like that shit, you gotta have some serious problems.”

“Fuck off.”

“I mean, to want to get on your knees to sniff someone’s dirty ass. That’s some dog level shit.” You watch as he stuffs his mouth with eggs. “Tell me, how are you any better than a dog?”

“You’re an ass.” Your chair groans against the floor as you get up.

“Sit back down.” Gage says firmly.

“No, fuck you. I don’t have to take this.”

PFFFFFBBRRRFFFFFF

You freeze as Gage rips a five second fart. The smell hits you from where you’re standing. You can hear Gage laughing from behind you and you can’t help the shame that wafts over you. “You’re pathetic. You get one whiff of my ass funk and you can’t walk away.” You take a deep breath and calmly begin to walk to your room. “I have more where that came from, you know?” You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to ignore him.

PFFFFFF

A high pitched fart hisses from his ass. “See? And they can be up your nose if you ask me nicely.” You’re not even looking at him and you can just see his cocky grin.

“What do you want?” You ask, knowing you’ve already lost.

“Heh, knew it.” You hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up. “You just need to beg.” He puts his hands on your shoulders. “Beg your daddy to fart up your nose.” He whispers in your ear.

“You’re an ass.”

“I know.” He turns you around and pushes you down onto your knees. “Beg doggy.” You lock eyes again, completely humiliated on the ground.

“Please, Gage, fart up my nose.” You say without enthusiasm.

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

“Fuck, that was a big one you just missed out on. Beg.” You sigh.

“Please daddy, please make me your fart slut.” He laughs.

“Better.” He turns around giving you the view of his brief clad ass. “Get your face in it.” You do as he says, getting a whiff of the lingering scent of the last fart. “Just remember you wanted this.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF

Airy farts warm your face as your nose gets overwhelmed by the absolutely toxic smell. It’s not like anything you thought it’d be like. “Wait.” You manage to cough out. “Wait stop.” You go to pull away but he holds you firmly in place.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He hikes his leg up slightly.

PFFFFFFFFFFFBBRBRBFFFFFTTTTTT

“Oof, that one’s gonna be bad.” He wasn’t wrong. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you're forced to endure that blast of a ten second fart. It’s absolutely eggy, and your eyes are watering. “Definitely wouldn’t want to be down there. But you’re liking this right fag?” You frantically shake your head no, wanting to pull away. “Aww, I knew you’d love my ass. Here, I’ll blow you a kiss.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFF

Another disgusting fart burns it’s way up your nose and down to your lungs. Your face is extremely warm and you can’t think straight. You strain to pull away from the toxic fumes constantly barraging your face but Gage’s hold is too strong.

PFFFFBRBRBRFFFFFFTTT

“Look, I know my brew is strong, but you’re the one who wanted this. And you begged oh so nicely for daddy to fart in your face. Who am I to get in your way of your dream?”

PFFFF PFF PFFFFFF PFFFFF

“It’s okay, I won’t judge you. Well maybe a little. Only cause you’re a fucked up a fag.”

PFFBBRRRFFFTTT

It’s getting really hard to breathe down here. The only air you’re getting is Gage’s eggy farts. You’ve begun to uncontrollable cough and gag against his dirty briefs.

“Man, imagine if I didn’t have these undies on. There’s no way you would survive that.” He laughs as he pulls his tight black briefs under his naked ass.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFF

“Jesus, what did you put in those eggs? I bet you put in some extra fiber didn’t you?”

“I know I’m a gassy guy, but damn, this is way worse than normal.”

PFFFFFFFFBBBRRRRRRBRRRRR

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTT

Everything is spinning around you and you’re having a hard time staying conscious.

“Is it everything you hoped for faggot?”

PFFFFF PFFFFFFFF PFFFFTTT PFFFFF

You feel yourself slump further into his musky ass, no longer able to keep yourself upright. You can hear Gage laughing as everything fades to black. A final fart hits your nose as you finally lose consciousness. “Night night fag.” Gage lets your body hit the floor before leaving you there.

When you awake again, you’re still on the kitchen floor. The smell of Gage’s ass still lingering on you.

#face farting #willing victim turned to unwilling #asphyxiation by farts #fart torture

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oliversrarebooks · 3 months ago

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The Rare Bookseller Part 63: Alexander's Contentment

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, captivity, blood drinking

October 1925

"So… how long have you been a thrall, if you don't mind me asking?"

Roger swallowed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with water. He'd devoured most of it the moment the plate was put in front of him. "It must be close to twenty-five years by now."

"Twenty-five years!" Oliver could see that Roger was quite a bit older than him, but he hadn't been expecting that.

"Most of that time has been with Fitz," said Roger. "My first master was much less agreeable. The less said about him, the better."

"Does your master treat you well?" said Oliver sympathetically, also hoping to scope out his master's friend for himself.

"He's temperamental and dramatic. He doesn't lift a finger to do chores. He demands I wake him up in time for his shows, and then when I do, he whines about how he doesn't want to leave his bed." Roger sighed. "But he isn't cruel, and he never hurts me. He can often be good company, and when he's not in need of attention, he allows me to do as I will. My life is pleasant, on the whole, so as far as vampires go, I'm glad I have him as master and not another."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. "So he isn't dangerous?"

"All vampires are dangerous," Roger pointed out. "But no, my master has no intention of doing you harm. He's been looking forward to feeding from you, as he made abundantly clear."

"Yes, he certainly did."

"How about you? Is Alexander treating you well?"

"Yes, very much so, I would say," said Oliver. "He's very gentle, and I appreciate his library. He seems determined to ensure I want for nothing. The only problem is… well…"

Roger nodded. "My master told me that there was a run-in with your master's sire."

"Have you met him?"

"Thankfully, I have not. Fitz makes a point of keeping us out of his reach. That's why we visit so infrequently."

"Did you know my master's last thrall?"

"Henry. Yes." Roger downed the last of the water glass, and Oliver stood to refill it. "He was a decent sort, a former accountant. Quiet. Loved to play cards. It's… unfortunate, what happened to him."

"…Yes." Oliver's hand shook slightly as he put down the glass.

"Thank you," said Roger, taking a sip. "For what it's worth, both Alexander and Fitz seem much more interested in you than they did in Henry, so there's reason to hope things turn out differently."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It seems possible that they'll pull out the stops to try and protect you. I've never seen my master so excited to drink from another thrall." There was a hint of jealousy in Roger's voice and eyes.

"It's my blood, I suppose," Oliver said sheepishly.

"You must have high grade blood. I'm similarly 'blessed,'" said Roger. "God only knows how vampires decide that. It reminds me of how they review fancy wines, and how it's meant to taste like flowers or minerals or some nonsense."

"I can't say I've ever really had fancy wine, even before it was illegal."

"Right, alcohol is banned here. Ridiculous, if you ask me. Vampires don't care in the least about human laws, so --"

Oliver's attention was pulled away from the conversation by a beautiful low note in his head. It sounded like his master's singing, but it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That song -- my master --" Without any words, it was beckoning him, a call too strong for him to ignore. It had never happened before, but he somehow knew just what he was meant to do.

Roger seemed unsurprised. "Your master's calling you, is he? You'd better go, then."

"Um, but you…"

"I remember the manor well enough. I'll make myself at home in a guest room. Don't worry about me."

"All right," said Oliver, grateful that Roger understood his sudden exit. He didn't stand a chance at resisting the song, and practically floated up the stairs as though he were in a dream. When he reached the door of his master's bedroom, he knocked. "Sir? Were you calling for me?"

"Come in, Oliver," said Alexander.

The room was dimly lit with a couple of gas lamps. Alexander and Fitz were both lounging casually on Alexander's bed. Alexander's shirt was unbuttoned, Fitz was wearing only an undershirt, and they were both in their shorts. A blush crept onto Oliver's face, but the vampires didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. Vampiric aura was thick in the air, and Oliver's nerves were fighting unsuccessfully against the docile trance state that was quickly claiming him.

"Did you wish to drink from me, sirs?"

"There he is," said Fitz with a positively predatory grin. "What a picture perfect thrall."

"Oh, he is," said Alexander, and Oliver felt like glowing. "Why don't you come sit down, Oliver?"

Oliver politely sat down on the side of the bed, and Fitz slithered up next to him. "Nervous?" Fitz asked.

"Somewhat, sir."

Fitz rolled over like a cat, looking at Oliver upside-down. "There's no reason to be nervous. I do bite, but I promise that you'll like it."

"What Fitz is trying to say," said Alexander, "is that we'd very much like to share in your blood, if that's all right with you."

He couldn't even think of denying his master this. The vampires' desire was too strong and his conditioning too deep. "Yes, sirs. Please share me."

"Well, now that we're not all standing around on a freezing cold dock, I can pick up where I left off, can't I?" Fitz sat up, and brought his hand near Oliver's face without touching it, his fingers moving in a fluid, mesmerizing motion. "I don't know if your master explained this to you, but just as his power is in his voice, mine is in my hands."

Oliver was staring at his fingertips, easily recalling how irresistible that touch was, aching for it. "I see, sir."

Fitz's hand cupped his cheek, and the last of his thoughts dissolved into bliss. "I'm glad we have an understanding, then," he said. "You'll be good for me, won't you, Oliver?"

Oliver had no defenses whatsoever against this new trance, not with his master looking on in approval. His muscles relaxed, his tension wiped away. "I'll be good for you, sir," he said, already half-asleep.

"Exquisite," said Fitz encouragingly, as he ran his hands through Oliver's hair and traced a finger down his jaw and neck. "You're so very good. Not resisting me at all. Just happy and obedient."

"Obedience is pleasure, sir," Oliver muttered, leaning into Fitz's soft touch. so utterly hypnotized and eager.

Fitz laughed. "That must be one of Lily's little mantras."

"Lily did a fine job priming him, not that there was any doubt," said Alexander.

"Such a charming thing," Fitz murmured, cradling Oliver's chin, "the way he simply melts under the slightest enthrallment."

"Hmm, yes, reminds me of another thrall I used to have."

Fitz chuckled. "Surely I was never like this."

"Surely you were."

Oliver's brows furrowed as he struggled against trance to process the conversation. Fitz had been a thrall? Alexander's thrall?

"No, none of that," said Fitz, tapping Oliver on the nose. "No thinking for you."

"Yes, sir," he said automatically, allowing the worries to fade away once more as Fitz caressed him.

"I've been looking forward to watching you go to work on him," said Alexander.

"Well, I can't disappoint, then." Fitz turned back to Oliver. "Do you enjoy being Lex's thrall?"

At the moment, any concerns he might have about his situation were far, far away. "Yes, sir, I'm very happy to be Lex's thrall."

"Don't you love his song? The way it makes you feel?"

"Yes, sir," he said, nuzzling into Fitz's hand with no shame, dreaming of his master's voice. "I love it more than anything."

Oliver felt strong arms taking him around the waist, pulling him close to his master's chest. His master began to hum softly in his ear, an enchanting song of pleasure, while holding him tight. All the while, Fitz kept up his intoxicating touch. Oliver's mind was entirely gone, consumed by an enthralled bliss that was stronger than any he had known.

"Isn't that song so beautiful, so easy to listen to?" said Fitz in his other ear.

"Sir…" he slurred in his drowsy haze. "It's so good… sir…"

Fitz chuckled. "You're delightful, Oliver, do you know that?"

"You're being so good for us," Alexander added in his other ear.

"So good."

"Wanna… be good… sirs…" said Oliver.

Fitz ran his finger across the spot where Alexander normally fed, and Oliver shuddered from the intensity. "You'll keep being good for me when I drink, won't you?"

Oliver was certain he'd never needed anything so much as that. "Drink… please drink from me, sir…"

"How could I ever deny such an adorable request?" said Fitz. "Just relax and keep feeling good, okay? I promise you'll find this enjoyable."

Oliver nodded, and gasped as the sharp fangs pierced his neck. It felt different from Alexander's feeding, hungrier, more desperate but no less pleasurable.

An overwhelming swirl of emotions began to pool in his mind. Joy at seeing Alexander. Fear for the future. Loneliness. Desire. Shame. Obsession. And through it all, an undercurrent of need, a deep, dark need that could never be fully satiated.

"Oh, he is delicious. I've never had a blood so rich." Fitz had paused briefly in his meal. "Why don't you have a bit, Lex? You look hungry."

"I'll take a sip, and then you can have your fill."

Oliver was shifted slightly to be closer to his master, and then Alexander was drinking gently from the wound Fitz had made, filling Oliver with a sense of peace.

Before he knew it, Fitz was at his neck again, feeding like a starving man. He was taking so much blood, and Oliver was floaty and sleepy, his eyelids drifting shut and a sigh escaping his lips.

"Fitz --"

"I know, I know, I don't want to overdrink from a thrall like this. Honestly, I don't know how you can control yourself, Lex. I wouldn't trust myself to not drain him dry."

"…It's difficult sometimes," Lex admitted.

Oliver slumped backwards into his master's arms, drifting in and out of a light doze, content and fulfilled and safe.

"You must be hungry -- all of that buildup, and you barely had a drop to drink," said Fitz. "Why don't I call up Roger so you can have a snack?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind that," said Lex.

Oliver woke up slightly as he was transferred from Alexander to Fitz, but the whine of protest in his throat was silenced as Fitz guided his head to his lap and began to stroke his hair, scattering his thoughts and stuffing his head full of cotton. The door creaked open, and Oliver could see Roger emerge from the gloom.

"You wish to drink from me, sir?" he said.

Alexander began to sing, and Oliver could feel the command in the melody, a command beckoning the listener forward and into Alexander's hold. Roger walked forward through the room, his steps as heavy as a sleepwalker's, and as he drew closer, his wide, glassy eyes reflected the gas lamp.

Oliver couldn't resist the pull, either, and Fitz didn't stop him as he crawled across the bed to his master and curled up next to him. Alexander stroked Oliver's face with one hand while welcoming Roger in with the other, singing of bliss and obedience.

"You remember my song, don't you?" asked Alexander.

"Yes, sir, very clearly," said Roger.

"Then you know the deep sense of fulfillment you'll feel when I drink from you."

"Yes… sir…" The worry and stress on Roger's face was melting away, and he looked somehow younger.

"A wonderful thrall. I'm very glad that your master has a thrall like you. Thank you for taking good care of him."

"Of course, sir… it's my pleasure and my duty…"

"You're going to be so relaxed now, Roger. You deserve it after taking care of Fitz every day."

"I do, sir."

"What are you trying to imply?" said Fitz with a laugh.

"There you go, perfectly relaxed," said Alexander, ignoring Fitz. "You'll feel no pain, only pleasure."

Alexander opened his mouth wide, and his sharp fangs glistened in the flickering light. Oliver watched in dreamlike fascination as he bit into the soft flesh of Roger's neck. Roger's eyes went lidded, his expression slackening. A goofy, dazed smile spread across his face. Oliver was too content and relaxed to be jealous. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how he looked when his master fed.

Soon, Alexander licked the last of the blood from the small marks on Roger's neck. He sank back onto the pillows, cradling Oliver in one arm and Roger in the other. Oliver glanced up to see a sly expression on his master's face as he started to hum again, the same song he had used to draw in the two thralls.

"What are you doing, Lex?" said Fitz. "Are you trying to enthrall… me… too…" A moment later, Fitz was snuggling in next to Oliver, and Oliver was surprised to see how entranced he looked. "I'll allow it, just this once."

They were all in a large, comfortable kind of pile centered around Alexander, and Oliver could feel his master's contentment. He was so used to the undercurrent of loneliness that constantly radiated from the vampire that it almost seemed foreign. This is exactly how things are meant to be. Everything that's mine is in its rightful place.

"I take it that it was agreeable to drink from Roger, then?" said Fitz quietly.

"Very much so. He was as delectable as always, and a perfect gentleman," said Alexander. "And you certainly seemed to enjoy Oliver."

"You know, when you told me the frankly extravagant amount you bought him for, I admit that I was skeptical. I couldn't imagine even the finest thrall being worth that much," he said. "But now that I've seen and tasted him… I understand. I wouldn't have given him up for any price."

"I'm glad you understand." Alexander toyed with Oliver's hair. "Apart from his natural obedience and decadent blood, he's also very pleasant company, soft-spoken and well-read." Oliver nestled in closer, happy to absorb his master's praise.

"He reminds me of you, a bit," said Fitz, running his hand through Oliver's hair. "It must be the smell of books about him. I suspect that's part of why I find him so appealing."

"Is that so?" said Alexander. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Fitz's forehead.

"And now I can tell everyone I've fed from a triple-A, twenty thousand dollar thrall."

Alexander laughed. "Well, not everyone can find such an exceptional thrall at a bargain price like your Roger here."

"To be fair, he was less of a bargain when I had to pay Lily to fix his poor mind. Still worth every penny and then some."

"Speaking of Lily, she suggested that we all meet up at the Tiger's Eye…"

The vampires continued to chat in low tones, and the sound of his master's voice was slowly lulling Oliver asleep. He tried to keep himself awake, wanting to hear the conversation and enjoy basking in his master's company, but his eyelids were drooping and heavy. He heard a yawn and then a bit of a snore coming from Roger, and he yawned too. His mind began to doze, drifting far away, unable to focus on what the vampires were saying, only listening to the cadence of Alexander's voice.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Alexander advances his plans.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampires #blood drinking #mind control #rare bookseller #alexander #fitz #oliver #roger

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adobe-outdesign · 5 months ago

Note

Have we gotten a houndoom line review yet?

I love how GameFreak's response to Pokemon's Satanic Panic problem was to make a hellhound the next Gen. And not just a hellhound, but a really good hellhound! I like that they went a more subtle route with Houndour than the Cerberus option by basically taking a Doberman and adding hellish motifs to it—black with fire-orange accents and white bones all over its body. Also nice are the shackles, which are likely a nod to how Cerberus is sometimes said to be chained.

Houndoom is even better, and does everything an evo needs to by expanding greatly on the original. Now a full-grown Doberman instead of a puppy, Houndoom has gained a pair of ribcage horns on its head, moved the skull to its chest, added an extra layer of shackles, and added a classic pointed devil tail. These all build upon the base design and themes wonderfully, and both stages are very distinct.

My only (very minor) nitpicks with Houndoom are that the skull on its chest could've been more skull-shaped as it looks more like an alien head, and the head is a weird shape. I hear a lot of complaints that it has no ears, but it has no ears because it has horns and there was no room for both on the original teeny tiny sprite. However, the Diglett-shaped head isn't quite anatomically accurate, making it look a little strange once you separate the horns from it.

(Also, side note: judging by the sprite above the chest skull and ribs were supposed to be a collar, which is a really neat idea that I kind of wish they kept. No big deal either way though, it still looks good regardless.)

I hear a lot of people say they wish [X] mega was an evolution, and like 90% of the time I disagree with them. Megas are generally handled differently than actual evos—evos often make drastic changes to the body shape and progress the Pokemon's theme in a notable way, while megas typically stick close to the original design and just add Stuff(TM). There is some overlap, of course, but generally speaking a good mega won't necessarily work as an evo and vice versa.

All of that is to say that mega Houndoom is one of the only megas where it could (and should) have been an evo. Every theme is expanded upon, the body shape has advanced pretty drastically, and there are about as many changes between it and Houndoom as there are between Houndoom and Houndour. It doesn't technically matter one way or the other, but megas are a rarely-appearing gimmick whereas evos are permanent, and this is a great design that should be used more often.

Anyway, this design is pretty perfect. It has a more muscular body than Houndoom with greatly improved head anatomy and longer legs (especially evident when you see all three lined up next to each other). The bone elements go from the small skull on Houndoom's chest to a giant wrap-around skull with tusks, as well as bigger horns and more ribcage bones. The shackles on its legs have also been broken, which is a great detail, and it's added a pitchfork motif in both the tail shape and the face markings.

My only minor nitpicks with this design are that the red claws feel a little distracting; keeping them orange might've balanced the colors better. Also, the orange on the chest should've gone under the bottom of the skull, as it creates a bit of a tension point as-is. Otherwise, this is pretty perfect all around.

Overall, a great line. There's a clear theme, each stage progresses in a logical and obvious way, and the designs are well-balanced. 10/10 would go to Hell again

#houndour #houndoom #mega houndoom #pokemon #pokemon reviews

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neathyingenue · 2 months ago

Text

What’s been going on with Silvia?

An update ft. sticky note doodles

After hearing that her dear friend the Six-Finger’d Scrimshander was living somewhere that wasn’t a house, Silvia has installed it in the guest room of her Side-Streets flat, where they’ve been getting along swimmingly.

Her professional life is going great! Ever since she and Lord Oswald J. Emerson struck a bargain—he writes silly plays, Silvia writes silly reviews, they create public beef that sells tickets and papers—the Prodigal Plebian has practically been printing itself.

Silvia’s also made a new friend, one Youthful Naturalist! She’s been lending him a hand where she can—trying to convince him to move out of his rookery, and keeping her kitchen stocked with jellied eels should he come over, and taking him wherever he wants to go in her zee-clipper.

In the meantime, she’s been growing frustrated with her lack of progress regarding her research on the Third City. If you’ve been with Silvia for a while, you’ll recall that she has been learning Yucatec Maya and chasing leads to discover if there are any pockets of Third City inhabitants untouched by colonialism where she could convince her remaining dad to move with her. (Hm? Inherently contradictory logic? What inherently contradictory logic?)

Enter the Sixth Coil and the freed captives. Several of them are from the original Third City. Silvia follows them to Venderbight, uses her broken Yucatec Maya to explain what she’s after—

They tell her: There’s no such place as you’re describing. We hang around in Venderbight, but even now, there’s nowhere untouched by the Masters, by London.

Silvia presses them—No, there has to be, maybe you just don’t want me there? Why not? Why won’t you let me in?? I promise I’m trustworthy, I won’t tell—

And she finally realizes that she sounds like a fucking conquistador.

Welp! No better cure for a crumbling belief system and self-perception than to zail as far away from your problems as possible! She and the Youthful Naturalist fuck off for a while and that’s when the Delight gets wind of them.

Speaking of wind. The Wax-Wind catches up with Silvia’s ship. Silvia gets a bad burn across the right side of her neck and shoulders.

Not to just rehash everything that happens ever in Evolution, but, uh, shit hits the fan, Silvia gets pretty traumatized. But secretly she’d glad that she’s helping the Youthful Naturalist, proud of both of them. Her search for precolonial Atlantis failed. But here’s another basket to put some eggs in. If they crack the secret to life and death, well, no one else will have to die like Silvia’s other dad, they can have all the time in the world to create their own utopia.

And the other basket of eggs is the Marvellous. She’s been so busy she’s scarcely had time to think of it [I’ve been on the lodging grind for 3+ months ;_;]. But can’t she just win and make the Masters let go of everything, set everyone free, end imperialism, or whatever? That’s how it works, right?

Oh, by the way, no one knows she’s been doing this shit. Not her father-ish figures, not her flatmate, not her partner, not her best friend, not her newspaper employees. Just her crew, and they are pretty pissed at her right now, so she’s been avoiding them.

Around this time, Silvia gets a letter from Shaw (one such father-ish figure) explaining about Nemesis and saying he might not make it back from his final revenge quest.

ALSO around this time (or maybe right after) Silvia gets what really sounds like a last will and testament from Jones (other father-ish figure).

And ALSO also around this time, Brett (Silvia’s best friend) is recovering from learning of the death of his partner.

Then Silvia forgets to be careful, and Caoimhe (her partner) sees her burns and asks what’s going on. She doesn’t buy Silvia’s story about a cooking accident she forgot to tell Caoimhe about (Silvia never cooks), and she really doesn’t appreciate that Silvia tried to lie. Caoimhe gives Silvia the chance to come clean.

So it all comes out. The Marvellous. The scientific voyages. The experimental surgeries. The multiple supernatural enemies. Caoimhe is appalled that Silvia would be taking all these risks without saying a single word—she thought the most dangerous shit Silvia was involved with was printing ill-advised articles about powerful people. Caoimhe’s extraordinarily patient and supportive, but Silvia didn’t even tell her!

The breach of trust frays at their relationship and drags Silvia further into guilt and despair, especially because Silvia’s support network is spread rather thin at the moment!

So… here we are. Silvia’s standing in the crumbling ruins of her relationships and ideals. She needs to help this 20-year-old cheat death, and then she needs to beat a bat at cards, and she’s so, so sad about everything.

This is it folks! We've hit rock bottom! Even I'm not sure how she's getting out of this one :) :) If you made it this far, thanks for reading <3

[The Six-Finger'd Scrimshander - @T6FS; Lord Oswald J. Emerson - @lord-emerson; August Shaw - @zeebreezin; Robin Jones - @viric-dreams; Brett Heroux - @thedandy-detective; Caoimhe Coledoc - @the-insouciant-scientist]

#silvia salcedo #notecard doodles #postcolonial fl #i do think she will get a happy ish ending but holy fuck

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months ago

Text

Study Buddy 1

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Inspired by this

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I'm always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment 💕

Group assignments are your worst nightmare. You’ve never been a fan of doing all the work while your classmates sit around and waste time. It’s one of the many reasons you opted for an online program over in-class learning. At least, you’d thought it would solve that problem.

How wrong you are. The second assignment and your task is to write a book review with a partner. Wonderful.

Worse than being the work horse, you’re just as much a pushover. How many times did you let the others speak over you and end up researching a topic you didn’t even care about? And all so they can coast off your efforts.

You sigh and look at your phone. You're nervous. It’s after three, they’re late. Or maybe not coming at all.

You frown and put your cell face down. You offered an online meeting with your assigned partner. You even made suggestions; Zoom, Whatsapp, Teams… They said they preferred to meet face-to-face, you were too reluctant to counter that you don’t. Again, rolled right over.

What was their name again?

You snatch up your phone again and check the short conversation. Terse responses to your overly quizzical messages. Walter. Your mind builds a stringy character with square glasses and a World of Warcraft tee shirt.

You stare at your last message. You told him you were there in the library, down in the basement where it’s not as busy. You think you included enough description of where; just between reference and biographies.

You minimize the chat and tap the learner portal shortcut pinned to your homescreen. It redirects to a browser and you sign in. No new announcements or notification. You scroll through the homescreen aimlessly.

You hear the heavy door to the stairs open and close and you flinch. You look up and see a man in an unzipped jacket with a messenger bag hanging off his shoulder. He’s tall and broad and his curls are slightly mussed with his expedience. He peers around and you sink into your seat.

Not him. He’s too old. Definitely not the ‘Walter’ sort.

You bring the chat back up, ready to text; ‘you on your way?’ Not anything accusatory, just checking in. Before you can hit send, someone clears their throat. You look up as that man stands across the table from you.

He says your name and you lower your phone, frowning as you straighten in your seat. Really?

“Oh, hi, Walter?” You utter.

“Mm, yeah,” his voice is more of a growl as he pulls out a chair and drops into it.

He puts his bag on the table as you lock your phone and set it aside. You swallow and grip the edges of your closed laptop. You watch him shrug out of his jacket. He lets it drop back over the chair which seems too small for him.

He’s not what you expected. At all. Not the sort you thought to meet in a creative writing program.

He inhales and rubs his forehead, “shoulda grabbed a coffee,” he grumbles. “Sorry I’m late, got held up.”

“It’s okay,” you eke out, running your fingers up and down the sides of your laptop. His eyes fall to the movement and you stop, opening the lid instead, “well, I was looking through the shared Doc, going through the suggestions…”

He hums and nods, an elbow on the table as he leans in, listening to you intently. Your voice wobbles as you speak only to keep yourself distracted, “I like the list but I’m not sure if they fit the parameters of the assignment.”

“How so?” He challenges.

“Oh, well, I… I don’t know, I was just reviewing the guidelines– if you think they do, I’m open to discussion–”

“And your suggestions? Girls’ books. I don’t wanna read those.”

You wince and bring your eyes up to meet his. You can’t tell if he’s glaring or that’s just the way he looks. You notice the few strands of silver woven through one of his curls. How old is he?

“Right, I’m not ruling anything out,” you sniff, “I did like this one. In The Woods? It sounded interesting, my only concern is it’s the first in a series.”

“So?”

“So nothing,” you wilt again, “sorry, well, how about that one? We can see if they have any copies we can take out here–”

“I have one,” he grits out. You don’t understand why you met in-person. He hardly seems to like chatting and you’re not better at it.

“Sure, okay, well, I’ll take care of getting a copy for myself,” you say, “we should set a date to read it by… I guess you already have… but we can make notes in the Doc. I’ll add a new section here.”

He huffs, a stormy gale that makes you shiver. What luck. You always did get the best partners for these things. You wonder if it’s too late to reach out to the instructor. No, that’s too much. It’s only your first meeting, you’re still strangers.

“Are you really taking this course so you can write those love stories?” He asks.

Your eyes flick up and your blanch, “what?”

“I wouldn’t let my daughter read those books. They set a bad example for girls,” he snarls.

“Oh, I didn’t… I… I want to write fantasy but er…” you stammer, his judgment scalding. “Let me just finish here.”

You turn your attention back to the screen. You go up to the list of book titles and erase the ones you put in. Your cheeks are on fire.

“You don’t have to delete them.”

“No, we don’t need them. We made our choice,” you insist with a tremor.

“Hm, shoulda figured.” You stop and once more peer over your laptop screen, “don’t have to be so sensitive. Can’t be a good writer if you can’t take criticism.”

“I wasn’t…” you begin and shrug off the argument. “Thanks, you’re right.”

He squints and tilts his head, “you also need life experience. No one wants to read a story about nothing.”

You gulp and bat your lashes at him. Wow, he’s mean.

“You don’t know me,” you quaver.

“Can guess a lot from someone’s bookshelf,” he says. “It’s my job to read people.”

“You’re job…” you wrinkle your nose, “well, then why are you taking a writing course?”

He pushes his shoulders back and inhales, “some people have something to say.”

The inference of his statement stings. You won’t debate him. You don’t know him and he doesn’t know you. Apparently, he doesn’t want to get to know you either. You’re not even sure why he came.

“Well, I think we have our next steps,” you push out your brittle voice.

“Sure do,” he checks his watch, “let me know if you need me to explain anything.”

He stands and grabs his coat and bag. You just sit there, watching him dumbly, “thanks, I will,” you murmur.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #study buddy #drabble #series

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vindicated-truth · 3 months ago

Text

Replying to @striving4mikey's latest comments on my post re: the juxtaposition of how Dongsik is with Jeongje, Jihwa (and Jaeyi), and Joowon in turn.

Oh Jihwa and Yoo Jaeyi

I don't know if it's the right English word for it—or if there even is an English word for it—but with both Jihwa and Jaeyi, Dongsik has what I can only describe as a strange sense of misplaced chivalry. It isn't even ill-intended, because it's coming from his trauma-based fierce protectiveness over everyone he loves, and both Jihwa and Jaeyi are enfolded tightly under that umbrella of care.

The problem is that Dongsik's protectiveness over them robs them of the chance to make informed decisions for themselves precisely because Dongsik locks them out of pertinent details that should have been their right to know. In essence, he's lying to them by omission.

Case in point is how Dongsik tried his best in the beginning to lock Jaeyi out of the truth about Kang Jinmook, even though it should have been her right to know as the victim's daughter. With Jihwa, while Dongsik did need her help with Lee Changjin, with the rest of the details of the case—involving Han Kihwan and Kang Minjeong in particular—he also locked her out, if only so that her reputation as a cop won't be tarnished.

To a certain extent he does the same to the other men of Manyang, like Jihoon and Gwangyoung, but there seems to be in Dongsik's case a well-intentioned yet still gender-biased view of the women as those who need his protection, rather than those who can fight for themselves and make decisions for themselves. In essence, he makes those decisions for them instead.

Contrast this, for example, with how Joowon doesn't have that gender-based bias at all when he sees how capable Jaeyi is as he continuously asks for her help, both in chasing down Han Kihwan and then later on in saving Jeongje. He sits side by side with Jihwa in their interrogation of Lee Changjin and they keep each other well-informed of the progress of his case.

The difference is, if there are certain details the women doesn't know, Dongsik intentionally doesn't reveal it to them in order to protect them. With Joowon, his intention isn't based on his relationship to them but rather based on their relationship to the case: if the detail isn't pertinent enough yet or he still lacks evidence about it, the less people know, the better.

In this as in everything else, Dongsik bases his decisions on emotion, while Joowon bases it on logic.

Park Jeongje

There's a moment the day after Jeongje's breakdown at the restaurant, and Joowon was reviewing the facts of the case so far, that Dongsik deliberately interrupts him and refuses to listen to what Joowon was trying to say about Jeongje.

This is of particular interest because it demonstrates what I have always theorized: that Dongsik has always known the possibility that the reason his guitar pick was found by Bang Juseon's body is because it was previously in Jeongje's possession.

Joowon himself was getting to this point in the conversation when Dongsik abruptly cut him off—because Joowon was right when he said the night before that Dongsik wasn't ready to hear this yet.

Dongsik had known all along that Jeongje was the last person he was with before his guitar pick disappeared, that night at the deer farm. It was the last place he had brought his guitar case and played his guitar in—whether or not what he says that he doesn't remember using the guitar pick there is true.

Because in the flashback, he was very clearly using the guitar pick at the deer farm with Jeongje.

A case can be made, in fact, that he knew all along, but omitted saying the truth when the detectives repeatedly questioned him 21 years ago about his guitar pick, for the same reason that is still very in character of him, 21 years later: he protected Jeongje.

He let the police arrest him, question him, and beat him up, even when he knew the possibility that the guitar pick had been in Jeongje's possession.

This was never confirmed in the show itself. But it wouldn't be out of his character to do so, because that's always been quintessentially who Dongsik is: keeping secrets to protect the people he loves.

He alluded to it later on himself, when he finally exploded and threw it all in Jeongje's face, asking him if he ever wondered why Dongsik never asked him anything all these years. Why Dongsik didn't question Jeongje belatedly stepping up as Dongsik's alibi, both in Bang Juseon's and Lee Yuyeon's case, and with Kang Minjeong's case. Why Dongsik didn't even question the fact that Jeongje lied to him about going to the US and was in fact admitted to a mental hospital, which he found out from Joowon.

Part of it I believe is that Dongsik himself didn't want to know. He didn't want to face the possibility that the person he trusted back then, and still chose to trust all these years later, despite everything, could ever hurt him—betray him—like this.

Joowon himself pointed this out to Jeongje before he dropped him off at Dongsik's basement: that even after all this time, Dongsik was still waiting for Jeongje himself to come clean—because Dongsik trusted him.

Because Dongsik loved him.

And when Dongsik couldn't anymore deny the truth of what Joowon has been trying to tell him all along, that's when Dongsik finally snapped—and with it, a three-decade long friendship.

The person Dongsik loved, trusted, and protected all these years—couldn't even tell him the truth.

And this is who Dongsik is, too: He will love you unconditionally, until you break him.

And he will break off his love for you.

Han Joowon

This now makes Dongsik's treatment of Joowon all the more fascinating.

He doesn't have a strong desire to protect Joowon the way he does with Jihwa and Jaeyi; part of it is because their history isn't (yet) as long and deep-seated as it is with the women, part of it may even be perhaps again a gender-biased view of Joowon as not "pure" enough to warrant his protection anyway, compared to the women.

Because Dongsik, remarkably, trusts Joowon with everything. Throughout their partnership, there is no secret he hasn't kept from Joowon himself: not even his hand in tampering with the scene of the crime and planting Kang Minjeong's fingers as fake evidence.

It's remarkable because Joowon at this point isn't (yet) someone he has come to love as long, or as deeply, as the people of Manyang.

But as @striving4mikey pointed out: he's getting there. Fast and intense and oh so deep in such a short period of time that it surprises both himself and Joowon with how uninhibited, how unconditional Dongsik's trust is for Joowon.

It may not be love just yet: but it has a great potential to be. The greatest love Dongsik has ever and will ever let himself feel, in fact, simply because he has never been so open—and so free—with anyone else, like this.

Because as @striving4mikey also pointed out: no one has ever proven himself to Dongsik, like this.

Not even Jeongje.

(Even when Dongsik wanted it so much to be Jeongje.)

Because that's what fascinates Dongsik about Joowon: that he isn't even doing any of it to prove himself to Dongsik. Joowon does what he does simply because it's right.

And it's that kind of unwavering moral compass and unrelenting pursuit of justice that Dongsik can finally, finally let himself go.

He doesn't have to worry about Joowon being unable to protect himself, because Joowon can.

He doesn't have to worry about Joowon breaking his promises to him and betraying him, because Joowon won't.

He doesn't even have to worry about Joowon not listening to him, because Joowon does.

Here, now, is the one person who will never let him down.

Here, now, is the one person that Dongsik knows is competent enough, capable enough, clever enough, and strong enough, to bear all of it with him.

Here, now, is the one person who can finally keep up with him in every way, in the truest sense: as his partner.

More than anything, Dongsik doesn't have to worry about not having his trust—his love—not returned in full. He doesn't have to worry about not receiving the same trust and love he's been investing in all the people he loved and trusted all these years.

Because it does, with Joowon.

Which is why Dongsik doesn't mind having Joowon arrest him. Why he wants no one else but Joowon to arrest him.

Because it's only with Joowon that he's finally free.

#beyond evil #jwds #lee dongsik #han joowon #park jeongje #yoo jaeyi #oh jihwa #괴물 #주원동식 #이동식 #한주원 #striving4mikey

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