#why did you ruin Dave like that >:( | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astermath · 2 years ago

Text

“So? Whatever.” pt.3

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: you and dave grow closer and you both share stories and secrets. one faithful night, when he’s got nowhere else to go, he reveals his biggest one.

word count: 1.7K

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

notes: this is probably the final one in this series, but I’ll definitely be writing some blurbs and whatnot using the popular!reader. any requests or things you want to see between these two, or just dave, are welcome in my asks!! thank you for the sweet comments and reblogs, they mean the world to me, hope you enjoy!! <3

Meeting Dave at your house had now become a weekly occurrence.

Every Saturday he’d stop by for a “tutoring session”, backpack filled with new comics and sometimes collectibles, usually bought with the money you gave him for his time. You’d started enjoying your time together so much that you started bailing on party plans or shopping trips, raising some suspicions from your friends as to what you were up to. You simply said you were focusing more on school to finish the year off properly. Which would be a decent excuse if your grades were actually improving, which they weren’t exactly.

Your Saturdays were usually spent on the carpeted floor of your room, pages spread as excited voices filled the space, talking about your favorite arcs and discussing who the best supervillain really was.

You had easily become one of Dave’s favorite people to spend time with outside of his vigilante duties, and the feeling was mutual. A crush had started brewing between you two, but neither of you wanted to admit to it. Not just because your worlds outside the safe space of your bedroom were so vastly different, but because you didn’t want to ruin this perfectly good thing you had going on with each other. Even if it meant suppressing the urge to ask him to stay the night, or him pushing away thoughts of kissing you before he’d leave, it was for the best.

Dave had grown so fond of you, you’d shared so much about yourself. You’d opened up about your insecurities, about how competitive cheerleading had affected your mental health, how you hated how your father was away so much for work, how you felt trapped by your reputation... All these things you could never talk about before, they were safe with him.

That’s why Dave felt so ridden with guilt any time you would share things like that with him. Because he was essentially just... Lying to you. You had no idea he was Kickass, at least that’s what he hoped, and the thought of you resenting him for it was eating away at him. If you knew what he was doing when you weren’t there, if you found out about this entire other persona, there was no way you’d still want to spend time with him. At best, you’d turn him in to the police, and he’d never see you again.

But something inside his head, something really stupid and naïve was telling him you’d accept him.

That really stupid part was also in love with you.

Dave’s text messages had been less frequent lately, further adding to your worries about what he’d been up to. He’d cancelled multiple times in the past few weeks, something he’d never done before, and when you asked what he was doing he got so nervous. He’d usually just give some strange excuse or said his dad needed him to be home with all the crime that’s been going on. But that wouldn’t explain the bruises you’d notice on his arms when he took his jacket off, which he’d quickly try to cover by pulling down his sleeves. You’d asked your brother if him or any of his friends had been messing with him, threatening to light his jerseys on fire if he lied about it.

“The fuck would I know about what your boyfriend’s been up to?” He spat, upset that you were bothering him with this at all.

“He’s not my boyfriend, shithead!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his head.

But damn, did you wish he was.

You sat in your room, flipping through the pages of the collector’s edition Spider-man comic Dave had gifted you months ago. Your fingers traced across the lines of the damaged paper, wondering if he really bought it like this or some asshole at school did this to it. For someone so secretly strong he sure let a lot of people fuck with him.

You thought back at all your years in high school where you deliberately ignored him or even allowed your friends to make fun of him. You wished you could turn back time and give him a chance earlier on, maybe be able to spend more time with him now that he seemed too busy for you now.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock against your window. You didn’t respond at first, thinking you imagined it, but when the sound returned a bit louder you got up. You squinted, finding it a bit hard to see who or what was outside your window when it was so dark outside. You approached and realized it was Dave, looking a bit panicked. You didn’t even think much about it, sliding your window up so you could talk to him. “Dave! Where the fuck have you--”

“Can I please come in?” He interrupted, his breath ragged, looking like a mess. It was only now you noticed the bruises and the cut across his cheek. You nodded, moving aside so he could come in. He struggled, limping a little, and you turned back around to close the window, hearing him take off his jacket and drop his bag.

“What the hell were you even--” Your own sentence was cut short when you were met with a sight you had not expected. Your eyes widened and your expression changed into one of shock and worry.

There he was, full Kickass attire, no mask.

And everything clicked.

The random bruises, the comic book obsession, his secret strength, his sudden disappearances...

A heavy silence filled the room, the only sounds present his rough breathing as he put a hand against your bedpost to keep standing.

“Is... Is this why you’ve been so busy?” Your voice sounded hurt, betrayed even. “You’ve been fighting people?”

Dave struggled to get any words out. He’d hoped he’d never have to do this, but he had nowhere else to go, and you deserved to know the truth. He looked to the side in shame, sighing. “I’ve... Been meaning to tell you. For a while now, I promise, I just... It all escalated so much, I never meant for it to become such a big lie.”

You looked at each other, and Dave’s heart literally ached at the sight of your teary eyes. Or maybe it was the cracked rib that was doing that, who knows honestly.

“Sit down.” You said, pointing at your bed.

“W-What? I don’t--”

“Sit. Down.” Your voice demanded, eyes meeting his with a look he’d never experienced from anyone before, not even when he was getting his life threatened by criminals.

He gently sat down on your bed, groaning slightly at the movement straining his injuries. You silently walked to your bathroom and took out the first aid kit from below the sink. You sat down next to him on the bed as Dave kept his head down in shame. He was certain he’d cry if he saw the expression on your face right now.

“Take it off. The top part.”

He didn’t say anything, reaching behind him and unzipping the back, peeling the layer of clothing off his body and revealing a wide array of injuries. Normally you’d be excited to see him shirtless, his toned body surprising you, but right now all you felt was hurt. You put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and gently patted the cut on his shoulder. Despite your anger, your grip on his arm was soft.

He winced slightly at the burning feeling, looking at you and seeing a few tears roll down your cheeks. “Hey, I’m... I’m really sorry.” He spoke softly as you prepared a bandage. He said your name so gently, so sweetly, that you almost wanted to kiss him, if you weren’t so upset. “Everything got so real, and I met other vigilantes, other people like me... It started taking up so much time, I felt bad, and I couldn’t just abandon it, so...”

“So you abandoned me instead?” You finally looked up to face him. You were still holding his arm, and even like this, crying and upset, he thought you looked so beautiful.

“I...” He felt his own eyes start watering. “I would never abandon you...” His hand reached out to rest over your back. “No matter what, I swear, I would never give up what we have...” He gently pulled you in, hugging you so softly, a bit hesitant.

You leaned in closer, head against his bare chest as you started calming down. He didn’t hate you, he didn’t leave, he was there, right there. You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat as he reached down to rest his face against the top of your head, the gentle scent of your shampoo calming him as well. You stayed just like that for a few minutes, holding each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, everything you wanted was right there in the room with you.

You gently pulled back, and Dave was certain he’d be met with either a slap or a finger pointing to the window to get out.

Both of those guesses were wrong.

You leaned in, lips meeting his in the softest, gentlest most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. No lust, no intentions other than to just feel closer to him. Your mouth opened slightly and Dave leaned in more, a hand reaching out to rest on your cheek as yours sneaked into his brown curls. A warmth had spread through your body, mind running blank, until you gently pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” You whispered against his lips.

“Yeah...” He whispered back. “Me too...” The both of you leaned back in, passion growing as your breathing became heavier and the kiss became more intense. His arms snaked around your waist and you moved onto his lap, straddling him. He didn’t care if it hurt, all he wanted was to be even closer to you, to never let you go.

You pulled away and looked into his eyes, before a soft smile appeared on your face. “You know I’d never hate you, Dave...” You reach out to gently touch his cheek, and he melts into your hand, tilting his head slightly to lean into it.

“I really thought you would...” He smiled. That adorable, nerdy, slightly nervous smile that you’d grown to love.

“Of course not...” You grin. “In fact...” You leaned in closer to his ear. “I always thought Kickass was kinda hot...”

Heat rises to his face, and his grip on your waist strengthens just a bit at your lustful tone.

He gained another ally that night. His most valuable one, for sure.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson @reneehillary69

1K notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 6 months ago

Text

TG: only trolls say theyre six i dont know whats up with you and that dumb fake age […] AA: i am 6 sweeps old one sweep is a little more than 2 years you dummy!

She’s still so chipper, and I love it. We haven't seen this side of Aradia since way back in the FLARP arc, shortly before she died. It really contributes to the sense that she's been reborn.

TG: im gonna shut off my phone now cya AA: yes AA: thats definitely what you did the first time we had this conversation

Dream bubble it is.

Jade showed up here because her dream self is dead - but as far as we know, Dream Dave is perfectly fine. Did Jack do another murder offscreen?

TG: oh sup TG: looks like youre a fairy AA: yeah TG: thats cool

TG: this wasnt the suit i was wearing

TG: it was this ugly fucking rag […] TG: and i went to take a nap TG: terezi said id reach god tier TG: or i guess show me why i wouldnt

Oh, it’s that Dave! I’d assumed he'd been completely written out of the story when Jack slit his throat and ruined Terezi's day.

So these bubbles also collect the ghosts of non-Alpha versions of the characters, provided they died in the Alpha Timeline. We might also be meeting the Dave who was killed by DD - and I'm sure there's a bubble somewhere just filled to the brim with Aradiabots.

TG: then this isnt a memory or a dream at all […] AA: it is the afterlife AA: but what is happening now is taking place in a bubble which is accessible to the living through dreams under the right conditions […] AA: the entry point for any bubble is always a memory

So from now on, every flashback could potentially mutate into a dream bubble - but at the same time, everything we see before the mutation is an actual memory, that really happened. It's incredibly convoluted, and I am totally here for it.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3481 #s128

161 notes · View notes

madockisser · 2 months ago

Text

cardan/nicasia: why they’ll never happen again analysis/speculation

a while back i saw someone (or rather, a thread of ppl saying that they hope cardan and nicasia don’t get it on in the next book which is supposed to be nicasias book (supposedly) and i even saw someone say they WISH THEY DO ?!

so here’s your fun reminder of what nicasia put cardan through!

I’ve gathered together all the shit nicasia did to cardan: being the first girl he loved then breaking his heart w his friend, allowing cardan to catch them ON HIS BEDROOM FLOOR. (not entirely her fault but she totally had shits and giggles abt it when cardan confronted her) then when Locke screwed her over, she got CARDAN and his power as prince, to harass the girl(s) locke chose over her, one of which cardan liked, then later on was trying to manipulate him to marry her (which i think is when cardan realized they weren’t rly even friends anymore), THEN kidnapping and torturing the girl she knew cardan loved, AND befriending his abusive neglectful mother!

like damn. how u even fumble that bad, not just romantically but as a friend.

also I’d like to add her consistent entitlement, not just the whole “i bully girls bc I’m a princess and i can!” but the “cardan take me back even after i emotionally ruined you multiple times!” 😐

poor cardan

anyway, I’ve read lots of holly black books, and she is VERY mindful w abusive sort of relationships. and cheating relationships. she writes about them a LOT and each time they are pretty irredeemable.

note(the only exceptions):Taryn and hazel (darkest part of the forest) who sorta cheated on accident/ it wasn’t their fault-> but didn’t end well

add on note sorry: “but nicasia cheated on cardan on accident bc Locke was a gancanagh!” false! nicasia admitted that what her and Locke were doing was prolonged, the scene that cardan finds them is not their first time screwing around. nicasia KNOWINGLY cheated on cardan. then she was like “ok but i still care abt u! take me back” ?

now you can say that it could sorta be classified as an accident due to lockes natures (which are actually really disturbing if u think abt it) and that’s true, i never blamed nicasia for that relationship, but i do blame her for all the utter dogshit she not only put cardan thru, but Jude.

and this is cardan we are talking about. he who killed half an army for Jude when madoc tried taking his daughter back (sounds funny out of context).

we must remember that cardan does not want Jude hurt and humiliated and that’s exactly what nicasia went and did to Jude. through all the books bro. nicasia literally kidnapped and tortured Jude in the undersea so there’s 0 chance of cardan touching nicasia unless maybe to turn her into a tree again (but he can always just do that at a distance 😛)

anyway back to the cheating:

which is why i know that holly would never pull any sort of bull w cardan and nicasia, and you may be thinking (well that’s bullshit what do u know?) 3 separate books w cheating tropes, and 5+ diff relationships that involve cheating w no redemption. LOL

anyway black and i certainly agree on that front, and the way she uses the trope so consistently, and makes it so the cheaters are never endgame, or have a horrible death (Locke AND his mom, also Eva Duarte 😭the dude Ben dated from dpotf, and Kaye and that guy Janet was dating, Val and Tom and dave and lolli (modern faerie tales)) is pretty telling!

holly is great at writing healthy relationships, and she knows that tcp is her biggest hit w the media, so she won’t go and fuck that, not just bc she would never and it’s out of her writing style and character and literally moral compass when it comes to writing relationships, but also bc her publishers/editors would NEVER let that slide.

but i can’t wait for her book! i love knowing that nicasia will never have a chance w cardan again, it’s no less than what she deserves 😋

anyway sorry for ranting! I just feel so strongly abt this topic, cardan would never cheat on Jude, since he’s been cheated on before, and it was heart wrenching, and bc of his upbringing, he would never. if you haven’t, go thru my masterlist in my pinned and find the cardan /nicasia thing where i explain why he wouldn’t cheat far better there!

But feel free to add on, i probably missed a few things so lmk!! 🫶

102 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 11 months ago

Text

Come Together

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: Ever since the academy, Aaron and Y/N have been at each other's throats for a spot on the BAU. He got it, She didn't. Now they have to plan the Bureau's Holiday party together without killing each other.

Warnings: angst, fighting, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, Aaron had a crush on her while married. why he and haley broke up, miscarriage mentions, divorced Aaron, flirting, teasing, kissing, fingering, hate sex, p in v smut, rough sex, no condoms used

Word Count: 4.8k

Penelope is usually the one to plan holiday parties… but after last year's spiked punch— that ruined a lot of upper agents' sobriety, which wasn’t her fault at all, the director delegated to having two random people plan it together. He pulled names from a hat that just happened to be Aaron Hotchner and Y/N Y/L/N.

She was happy to do it, and he was fine with doing it… they just weren’t happy about doing it together. The two agents couldn’t stand each other and it goes all the way back to being in the same year at the academy.

They were tied for the top of the class, duking it out to be the chosen one for Agent Rossi’s new right-hand man. And of course, it went to a man. It didn’t matter to them that she was fantastic at what she did, or that her final score was 0.2% higher than his. He was a man so he got it.

She got a job in CARD which, she liked, it was still an opportunity to solve cases and bring kids home to their parents… she just had to work with the BAU more than she liked and take orders from them. And then Rossi left, Gideon stepped down and Aaron Hotchner was the fucking Head of the BAU.

She was taking orders from him. Him and his goon squad of pretty people he picked over her.

She would’ve pushed everything aside and dealt with him, she would’ve mended things if he accepted her into the team. But he never did. After 5 applications and being looked over for everything while he hired younger and younger, she finally gave up and started to hate his guts even more.

Now she’s in the elevator, pushing the button for floor 6 and shaking the thoughts of strangling him out of her head so she can deal with him for half an hour. He’s always so busy that she’s been waiting all week just to talk about this stupid fucking party, and the only time he has is at 8:30 pm on a Friday when she should be at home.

She walks right into the bullpen, up the stairs and knocks on his door. “come in?” He calls.

“Hey,” she says with a deep sigh. “Can we talk about the party?”

“Mhm,” he nods, waving her in. “Come sit, I already have some ideas.”

“Okay…” she sits down in front of him, ignoring all his plaques and accolades and staring down at her clipboard. “I called around and there are 3 places available that are big enough to hold us, on the 3rd Saturday of the month.”

“Awesome, I already called a friend of mine with a Christmas tree farm and acquired 3 trees— Douglas furs, all pretty and big, we’ll just need a ceiling over 12 feet to house them,” he explains.

“And who’s going to decorate them?” She asks.

He shrugs, “We’ve got a big budget, we can hire someone to do it.”

“Who did Penelope use?”

“Herself,” he smiles that devilishly condescending smile. “I’m sure if we ask she’d want to help out again. She loves Christmas.”

“Did you ever figure out who spiked the punch last year?” She asks, genuinely feeling sorry for Penelope.

Penny was the only one on the team that she actually liked.

He nods, “Dax Cooper up in counter-terrorism.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“Worse than me?” He teases. “Seriously, when are you going to stop being mad at me?”

“When you admit you hate me!” She fights back. “I did nothing to you. You’re the one who conspired with Dave and got hired here and then you purposely lost all my applications and never let me know why you wouldn’t even interview me.”

“I didn’t lose them, I put them to the side,” he shrugs. “You weren’t ready to be on our team.”

“But the walking calculator and teen Mrs. USA are?” She laughs.

“Reid and JJ are wonderful assets,” he snaps, jaw tight and eyes full of fury. “This is why I don’t want you. You wouldn’t be a team player. Not until you get rid of the attitude and accept that this job is about more than numbers. Yes, they’re young, yes you beat me by a fraction of a percent, but that doesn’t mean you have what it takes to do what we do.”

“I look at cases full of missing, dead and raped kids all day, how is that any different?” She honestly can’t believe it.

“Because you look at a screen all day with facts and witness statements and I go out into the field and I talk to parents and I deal with the cops and I don’t start fights over petty bullshit,” he reminds her. “I have never called you names or signalled you out. All you do, every time we're on a scene together, is whisper and gossip and try to undermine me. You need to grow up.”

She just shakes her head, holding in a comment that could hurt him because… and she hates to say it, but he’s right. “Whatever. Should I call one of these places and book it tomorrow or what?”

“Do whatever you want, just give me the address so I can have the trees and decorations sent over,” he honestly doesn’t care. “I trust your judgement on a caterer, I’ll pick a band… what else would we need?”

“Invitations, which I can handle,” she assures as she stands up to walk to his door. “I’ll cc you on everything and include the director for oversight. I’ll call you if I have questions.”

“Y/N,” he calls out to her before she leaves. “I’m going to be looking for a new agent in a few months…”

“And?”

“If we can work this out by then… maybe things will be different when you apply this time?” He suggests, giving her innocent eyes and genuinely meaning it.

“Okay.”

—

“Did you see her last night?” Dave asks, walking right into Aaron's office with two coffees right at 8am.

He nods, “I did… you don’t have any connections to a band I can book for Christmas, do you?”

“The Jazz club might be able to lend us some members,” he suggests. “I’ll make a call… but I take it things went well?”

“As well as they could go, she’s still so mad at me for getting this position over her,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how to make her realize she just wasn’t ready. Our working together would’ve been awful. It would’ve—

“Ruined your marriage that just ended?” Dave teases. “I know you liked her, I saw the way you two looked at each other and I saw the teasing and the way you talked about her. She was more than a friend to you… I couldn’t have her on the team like that. I couldn’t see you go through what I did with Caroline.”

“I hate thinking about how different things could’ve been if she was on the team though,” he shakes his head and stares off out the window. “We almost broke up back then, you know? We almost never had Jack…”

“You know it’s perfectly normal for marriages not to work out, it doesn’t mean you loved her any less, it just wasn’t meant to be forever,” Dave reminds him. “You’re still friends, there’s no ill will. You never cheated, she didn’t either. You just grew apart. It happens.”

“But now I’m single and I can pursue Y/N… but she hates me,” he sighs. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop hating me.”

“Nasty hate sex is fun,” Dave teases, making them both laugh. “I’m serious… you wouldn’t believe the women I’ve—

“I know, actually,” Aaron shakes his head. “Strauss can’t look at you the same anymore.”

“Hey… that wasn’t hate, it was just indifference,” he teases.

“Whatever,” Aaron can’t help but smirk. “Can you work on the band for me?”

“I will, I’ll get them to throw in some love songs too,” Dave teases on his way out.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Two weeks of planning and emails blow by in the blink of an eye.

He gets ready for the party early, having to be there to check things over and meet the band and shake hands with the higher-ups as they arrive. He has a nice suit on, a red tie for Christmas and dark green socks that no one will ever notice. But he wants to look nice.

For her.

He walks up to her where she’s hiding in the corner. Adorning the most stunning golden dress and holding her clipboard, making sure everything gets delivered and set up in time for the start time at 7. They still have 4 hours till then, but she’s an overachiever. And a worrier. She needed this to be perfect.

She looked perfect. Like the 2000 Holiday Barbie brought to life. He’s absolutely astounded by her beauty he just stares for a moment before he says anything.

“You know, you look very pretty today,” he compliments but she doesn’t take it that way.

She looks at him like he just insulted her mother. “What?”

“That dress, it looks nice on you,” he looks her up and down. Smiling like he has some tricks up his sleeve. “What? Can’t I think you look nice? Haven’t we spent enough time talking this last month to let me compliment you?”

“Don’t you have a wife?” She asks, disgusted he’d hit on her. “And a kid?”

“We got divorced back in April,” he shrugs. “And you say you want to be a profiler, yet you haven’t looked at my hands in months?”

She looks now, noticing that he doesn’t have a ring and the tan line that should be there is long gone, which means he’s telling the truth. “Oh… sorry.”

“It’s better this way,” he nods, giving her a sweet smile. “Is everything going to plan?”

She nods too, “Yeah. Just waiting on your band… please tell me they’re good?”

He laughs, “They’re great. Dave’s got this Jazz bar he basically owns with how much money he’s spent there so they owe him one… You’ll like them.”

“Jazz, at Christmas?” She can’t believe it. “Hotch—

“Aaron,” he corrects her. “Please, for the love of god, call me Aaron again.”

“Why?” She laughs, “We’re not close.”

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “You can’t tell me that before everything went down, we didn’t have something going on? We were friendly, I almost thought you had a crush on me?”

She looks at him with a brow raised, “You thought I had a crush on you?”

He nods, “And then you found out I was married.”

“So you’re saying if you weren’t married we could’ve hooked up at the academy?” She asks. “Sounds like you liked me too, regardless of the wife.”

“No—

“Be honest,” she begs, stepping into his space even more. “If things were different- if you didn’t have a wife and we fucked back then, would you have screwed me over for the job?”

“I didn’t screw you over, I simply already knew Dave,” he finally admits after 10 long years. “I knew he was about to leave, he knew Gideon didn’t want to be in charge. He wanted someone to run the whole unit who wouldn’t choke— not saying you’d choke, he just knew I was already hard on the inside, I wasn’t going to lose my mind with all the shit we see.”

“You could’ve put in a good word for me, Aaron, I would’ve been fine working under you. I would’ve loved even just an office job in the BAU, I want to work with more than just missing kids,” she begs. “I’ve done it for 10 years, now. You know that makes me strong. You have a kid of your own, you know it’s not easy to think about them missing, let alone deal with it.”

“I know… and I was serious, I have a new position opening up and I want to give this another try,” he admits. “I want you on the team.”

She shakes her head, “how can I be on the team when this—” she points between them. “This, whatever this is, is going on?”

“The sexual tension?” He teases and she swats his arm. “We’ll be fine.”

She shakes her head. “Just, give me some time to think about it?”

“I can do that…”

—

She watches him from afar most of the night. Talking only when they needed to, like in front of the director or on stage while introducing the band and thanking everyone for being there… she was having a very hard time being in the same room as him with all she knew now.

She was still mad at him.

Mad because she’s wasted so much of her life hating him when they could’ve been happy together… but at the same time she was sad for his ex-wife. She wondered how long the marriage was loveless. Did she know? Did she suspect? Who broke it off? Does he see his son? She knew he was a good man back then but, what kind of good man has a crush on someone else while married? Would he just do that to her if they got together?

She had so many questions in her mind and they wouldn’t shut up.

He approaches her again while she’s deep in thought, staring at the floor while she sips on a drink she doesn’t even like.

“Having fun?” He asks.

She shakes her head, “No.” she puts her drink down on the table just behind her and turns back to him as he begins to speak.

“Something not going according to pl—

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me you like me?” She snaps. “I was so okay with hating you for the rest of my life because I couldn’t be on the team I always wanted to join and then you tell me you like me? That if you didn’t have a wife you’d want to be with me back then?”

He steps more into her space so they can keep their voices down and between each other, “because you deserve to know.”

“No, I don’t think so,” she fights back. “You were never worried about me being too immature for the team, you were scared you’d end up cheating on your wife with me. I didn’t even know you had a wife until I developed feelings for you. You never wore your ring to class, we spent every day sitting together in class or at the library and you came back to my dorm a few times… you pursued me as much as I was pursuing you and then you made it my fault.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he bows his head, ashamed. “My wife and I weren’t in a good place, we were talking about getting separated… then she got pregnant.”

“I thought Jack was only—

“We lost a couple babies before him,” he admits. “I didn’t want to be like my dad. I didn’t want to knock her up and leave her so I stayed. I stayed but I wasn’t a good dad anyway. I was always at work, I missed important things with my son and she was the one to end it because she deserved someone who wanted to be home with her and my son deserved to grow up knowing his dad wasn’t always going to be there but loves him enough to be as present as possible when he is home. I couldn’t be that when I was with his mom. we’re so much better apart, I love having weekends alone with my son and doing things we like and not worrying about fighting with his mother in front of him. And she’s happier now with her new boyfriend and Jack's happy with the prospect of a stepdad who can step up in all the areas I lack.”

“That’s a really mature thing to do for him,” she manages to give him a small, press-lipped smile. “Still doesn’t make me feel better about what you did to me.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you the truth and that I’m sorry for so long, but when we’re together it’s always a fight. I can never get an honest minute with you, you always just come in guns blazing and my instinct is to tease you back,” he admits. “I am sorry. I wish things were different. I would like to start over if you’d allow me to.”

“I don’t want a job on your team,” she says, stepping in even closer. Close enough to kiss him. “I can’t work with you like this.”

“Why?” He smirks.

“Because Strauss hates you enough as is without you fucking your subordinate,” she whispers. “I’m not throwing myself under the bus… just to be under you.”

He lunges for a kiss, pressing his lips against hers as he cups her face. She backs up slightly in surprise, bumping into the table behind herself. Aaron’s instincts are sharp, he reaches behind her and steadies it so the drink doesn’t crash against the floor and draw more attention to them. She knows the few people in this corner are already looking at them, but she doesn’t care.

This is a kiss she’s waited a decade for.

Her hands go inside his suit jacket, she reaches around to grasp his back and pulls him flush against herself. They break the kiss just to breathe, going in for another and another until their tongues meet and they’re the odd couple making out in the corner of the party.

His hand slips from her cheek to her jaw, along the side of her neck and then she pulls away, “not here,” she reminds him they’re in public and he can’t touch her anywhere he wants to.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “How long do we have to stay here?”

“I have to stay for shutdown tonight,” she sighs. “But…. Come with me.”

She pats his side and moves past him, leading him out of the little corner they’re in and towards the main room. He follows her up a staircase, past people they both know and respect and they catch a few eyes but, she puts on a fake pissed-off look and they think she’s leading him somewhere to yell at him… cause that’s what they do.

“Hey man, where are you going?” Derek asks as they pass him and Penelope sharing a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

He’s quick on his feet, “One of the vendors fucked up, we have to chat with their boss and discuss how they can make it up to us.”

“Oh, damn, well… have fun,” he teases. Letting them go on down the small corridor towards some offices.

She leads him to the only open office she has access to, flicks on the light, lets him in and locks the door behind them. He’s quick to crowd her space, press her up against the door and grip her chin to tilt her attention up toward his eyes once more. She’s back inside his suit jacket, he’s so toasty-warm in there she can only imagine what it’ll be like to be naked with him.

“What were you saying about fucking up and making up for it?” She teases him.

He smirks, “I will… but first we need to find a way to release all that pent-up frustration we have against each other.”

She tries her best not to laugh, just shaking her head with a smile as she lets out a little huff, “Ah yes, fuck me like you hate me so we can restart fresh.”

He cups her face with both hands, eyes darkening with lust, “you’ve been such a brat for so long.”

“And I’m sure you know the cure for that?” She teases, pulling him in closer. One of her legs slips out of the slit of her dress and she brings it up to wrap around his hip, he’s quick to drop one of the hands from her cheek to grip her thigh.

“I do,” he whispers, his voice so deep it makes her stomach drop with anticipation.

He kisses her abruptly, she grips his back pulling him as if they could possibly get any closer but they can’t. Not yet. He grinds against her as their tongues meet again, his hand on her leg goes a little higher until he’s gripping her ass. The hand on her cheek starts to slip again, caressing her chest, she lightly moans into his mouth at the feeling. He’s everywhere, boxing her in against the door, but she wants more. She wants him buried deep inside of her, pounding her against the table over there, letting her know just how much he’s wanted her this whole time.

He kisses the side of her mouth, her jaw and down her neck, letting her catch her breath just to knock it all out of her again when he starts to lightly suck on her skin. “Aaron, don’t you fucking dare,” she scolds him.

“I won’t,” he speaks against her, just lightly nipping and sucking at her skin on his way down to her cleavage.

She pulls her hands out from inside his jacket to roam his shoulders until one hand ends up at the nape of his neck to play with his hair. Her head is tossed back against the door, and he kisses every inch of available skin on her chest.

He reaches down and gets both of his hands under her ass, making her jump up so he can carry her. Still kissing her neck, he moves them over to the table and sets her down. She’s just the tiniest bit taller now, he kisses her cheek again, looking her in the eye once more as he spreads her legs and runs his fingers along her thighs, realizing now she has nylons on. His hands go further, towards her aching cunt, he grips her thighs while both thumbs play with the seam of her nylons.

“I’m gonna rip these,” he announces, finding the weakest part of the seam and tearing it open enough to fit his cock through, without completely ruining them. He moves her thong to the side and drags his index finger over her clit. “You’re fucking soaked…”

She tosses her head back, both hands gripping the table like her ice depends on it when two of his fingers plunge into her. “Oh, fuck,” she moans a little too loud.

Attaching his lips to her neck again, he sucks on her pulse point while fucking her on his fingers. It’s hard and quick, covering the palm of his hand with her slick as his thumb rubs her clit. She’s always known his hands would be good for this, if nothing else.

“Please, Aaron? Oh my god,” She starts to beg.

“Words, princess,” he teases against her neck, teeth grazing her skin, his breath hot, it sends a shiver down her spine.

“Wanna cum,” she whispers, breathy and so close. “On your cock.”

“Okay,” he pulls out, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his palm up to his fingers. He sucks them into his mouth with a groan. His cock twitches between them, jumping with excitement.

She whines again while he undoes the zipper and tugs his cock out, “please?”

“Hold on,” he spreads the excess wetness over his cock, stroking himself twice while biting his tongue. It clearly felt so fucking good but she knew her tight cunt was going to be better.

He slips in slowly and her grip changes, letting go of the counter, she wraps her legs around him and grips his back with her fingernails dug into the skin. “Better?” He whispers into her ear.

She whimpers when he doesn’t move, feeling so full, “fuck me, please? Fuck me the way I deserve.”

He hums, kissing her cheek before looking into her eyes, all watery and blown out, her mascara started to run a bit. He tilts his head to the side, “how hard?”

“Hard,” she looks him dead in the face.

He slips out, pulls her off the table and turns her around so her chest is against the cold hardwood table-top and flips her dress skirt up and out of the way. He rips her nylons even more, all the way up the back so her ass is exposed. He takes her ass cheeks in his hands and spreads her apart, amazed at how her pussy clenched in anticipation.

“Please,” she whined, almost stomping her feet with desperation.

He slams into her without warning, making her gasp loud enough to be heard by anyone wandering the hallway outside.

He pulls out a bit and slams back into her again and again and again until the noises she’s making are complete nonsense. She whines and moans and leans against the table for dear life while pushing back against him. He slaps her ass a few times, making the sound reverberate around the room like an echo.

He needs more friction, so his thrusts get less powerful and more rhythmic, he uses her like a toy bouncing her on his cock like a rag doll. She felt like her main purpose in life was to be fucked by him like this, it felt so good, it felt incredibly right, and she loved every fucking second of it. All those years of fighting paid the fuck off.

He slams into her cervix over and over, the head of his cock kissing the puckered spot inside again and again. Her hungry cunt sucks him in so deep, never wanting him to leave, and he can tell she’s close just from the way she clamps around him like a vice. He reached around to her stomach and drags his hand down her mound to rub her clit with his middle finger. The rhythm barely matches, but she loves the way it feels. It’s unpredictable, it’s all under his control, she just sits there and takes it like the good girl he’s raised her to be.

“Cum on the cock you hate so much,” he insists, “I wanna feel it. I want you to cover my cock in your cum before I fill you up to the fucking brim.”

Too fucked out to really respond she reaches one hand behind her back so he’ll hold it. He intertwines their fingers and leans forward to kiss her shoulder as his hips snap against hers with force. She starts to shake, her legs barely able to keep her up as her orgasm hits her and rattles through her body. He feels the spasm from the inside, her cunt flutters as she releases all the built-up tension in her body She’s so fucking tight he’s barely able to register his own orgasm approaching when he topples over her on the table.

He fucks into her as deep as he can go and then stills. She can feel rope after rope of his cum pump into her, they can hear the dribbles on the floor between them as it overflows and drips out of her, along with her own.

He kisses her back, breathing hard against her. She’s just trapped there under him, legs quaking in her heels, “holy fuck?”

“Sorry,” he pulls back and out of her, “shit… we didn’t think this through.”

She sighs, holding her dress up so she doesn’t make a mess. “Are there any tissues in here?”

He looks around, “Yeah… but it’s just that brown paper towel roll like we have at work.”

“It’ll do,” she shrugs. Watching him walk over to the dispenser near the sink in the corner of the room, he takes a bit out and cleans himself up quickly, putting himself back in his boxers before her gets some more.

He leans her forward again, kneeling behind her, he cleans her up to the best of his ability and then he repositions her thong. He even wipes up the floor before tossing the paper out. “I can’t believe there was so much…”

She laughs, dropping her dress back down and fluffing it so it looks normal again. “10 years worth of—

“Okay,” he shakes his head with a smirk, stepping back into her space, he wraps her up and kisses her forehead, “you did so good.”

“Thank you,” she smiles sweetly, she feels so different. There’s so much affection in her chest as she looks up at him once more. “I’m glad we got that out of the way.”

“I’ll stay with you here while they’re cleaning up,” he assures. “And maybe later I can show you how sorry I am for keeping secrets all these years?”

“I’d really like that… but I’m still not working for you,” she teases.

“I guess I’ll just have to take on more CARD cases so you’re forced to see me,” he teases right back, smiling at her.

This is going to be fun.

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

280 notes · View notes

gaymurdersalad · 5 months ago

Note

Jack! You should try talking it out with Dave. Tell him how you feel, how from your perspective how tiring and agonising this whole situation is.

Dave cares about you a lot. I'm sure he'll understand you.

> Fuck you! Quit giving me those puppy dog eyes! It’s not gonna work this time, no, you’re not gonna ruin my life and waltz back in like we’re still friends. I only liked you when I hated myself. Get it through that fucking lobotomized skull, you purple leech.

> … Do you even realize what you’re sayin’ to me, Sportsy?

> I know exactly what I’m saying! You deaf too, you bastard?

> I didn’t ask for your help! Y’know, Sportsy, I coulda been perfectly fine rotting in that alleyway! You didn’t HAVE to drag me back to your home just to fuckin’ chew me out you goddamn hypocrite! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

> It was a moment of weakness. Never in my right mind would I ever let you back in here!

> Sportsy, I know that ain’t really what you think, so can you stop bein’ so goddamn difficult and just tell me what the hell is pissin’ you off today?

> Today? Today?! You’ve been making my life fucking miserable since the moment I met you! You saw I was struggling, you noticed that I hated the company, and instead of leaving me well enough alone, you took advantage of me and made me do your fucking dirty work! I was prepared to do good, I was prepared to save whatever kid was stupid enough to let your cryptid ass lure them into the backroom, but god, when offered with the opportunity to burn it all down, I took it! I couldn’t have met a worse person, someone who fed into that fucking hate and malice and made me worse!

> You’re— You’re blaming me? Sportsy, You’re grown! You are a grown man, you made your own goddamn decision! How are you being so childish right now?! Stop tryin’ to escape the parts you don’t like about yourself, just deal with ‘em like every other adult!

> Deal with it?

> I killed children! Little kids!

> And that’s somehow my fault?

> If you’d have never been there, I never would have done it.

> But you did, you stupid motherfucker, you did! So grow up!

> If you weren’t so fucking obsessed with the legacy of a man that doesn’t even love you, I would never be here! I’d still be living my shitty existence with my shitty family in a shitty house that I couldn’t afford in a shitty world with a shitty job! Your bullfuckery cost me a life, it costed dozens of kids their futures, it destroyed families! Telling me to grow up?? You can only do whatever the fuck your daddy tells you to do!

> Do you know what the hell this means to me? Do you even understand why I’m doin’ this at all? It’s ‘cause I trust him, Sportsy, I trust him with my life ‘cause he’s saved it over and over again! You don’t know what’s happened to me, you don’t know what the hell I’ve seen, what Henry’s dragged me out of! You’ll never fuckin’ understand what he means to me!

> You’re right. I don’t know. Although what I do know, as any other sane, rational person would, is that whatever he’s done for you, it does not justify snuffing out the lives of little kids as some twisted form of gratitude.

> You’re bein’ really unfair!

> Unfair?? I didn’t realize murder was unfair! Okay, you should have every right to take someone else’s life! It’s only fair! It’s only right ‘cause it’s Henry!

> You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause you ain’t never had a dad, you don’t know what the fuck I’d lose if I didn’t satisfy him!

> …

> Yeah, turns out I ain’t brain dead, you soulless bastard. I remember everything you’ve ever told me. Everything you spilled outta those rotten guts in Vegas. You wanna know why, you sick fuck? ‘Cause I liked you. I liked how you treated me, like a person. Lookin’ at me wit’ them doe eyes, so fuckin’ receptive and so goddamn… affectionate.

> Look, Sportsy, I know you whether you want me to or not. I know you don’t hate me, I know you never did. I don’t hate you neither. It’s not a question of if you’re ashamed of what you’ve done or whether it’s my fault or not— you like me. You are so fuckin’ violated to know that I can see through you. Sometimes that’s what I like about you, but right now it’s pissin’ me off. Lay down the goddamn charades and tell me what you want without usin’ any of that goddamn language you were dishin’ out earlier.

> Stop living for Henry.

> …

> Stop making it impossible for me to like you.

> … I can be close with Henry and still be your friend, Sportsy—

> No, you can’t! My entire reason for existence is to right Henry’s wrongs! My best friend cannot be his fucking protégé! Dave, you don’t understand what this is doing to me! I want you more than I want to do good in the world! Do you realize how sincerely fucked up that is?!

> … You’re not the only one who feels this way, Sportsy. This is puttin’ me in a uncomfortable position too. You’re askin’ me for a lot.

> I didn’t realize not murdering anyone required serious introspection.

> Gah, it’s not just about the murder, get over it! That’s all you ever wanna fuckin’ talk about! The very fuckin’ notion that I should lay all my loyalties down for the likes of you is downright insulting— the one who abandoned me after givin’ me a taste of humanity! Yer a joke and a conman and I cannot fuckin’ stand you!

> Yet I care about what you think of me, which is the wildest part of it all! I want you to like me again, but as you’ve so clearly forced down my throat, you won’t do it again unless I betray my own father! Unless I submit to YOUR goddamn ideology! Is it just that you’re usin’ me? Do you just want another pair of hands just like I asked for yours all those years ago? Trynna worm your way into a heartless vessel, are ya? All I got left is my brain, Sportsy, and you and that pink fuck are rippin’ it apart at the seams! Gah!

> You ain’t blameless yourself, anyhow! What, you had one good trip on ether and decided you were a saint? You’ve killed same as me, don’t you dare try and look down on me like you’re any better! So easily persuaded to kill, so easily persuaded to spare— can you ever make up your goddamn mind, or are you just gonna let people boss you around your entire afterlife? Yer like a fuckin’ sheep, like goddamn livestock for people that wanna use you! Turns out we ain’t so different after all, huh?!

> GOD, YOU’RE SUCH A FUCKING PLAGUE!

> I WISH I NEVER TOLD YOU TO SKIP WORK! I WISH I MAIMED YOU IN THAT SPRINGLOCK SUIT, I WISH EVERY RIGGED PIECE IN THAT FUCKIN’ THING WRANG THE LIFE OUTTA YOU OUT FOR GOOD! GOD, I WISH YOU WERE FUCKIN’ DEAD!

> … You… You wish you what…?

> …!

#gaymurdersalad #murder salad #salad lore

134 notes · View notes

weirdgenetic-fuckup · 9 months ago

Note

Can you do headcanons of Dave Mustaine from the 80s who is perverted by the reader, taking things from her without the reader knowing so he can masturbate, fantasizing about the most obscene things? thank you <3

A/n: Since you asked for headcanons I went with a different format, sorry if that's not what you wanted lol, I hope you like what I've written anyway

Warnings: Smut, Dave being a pervert and stealing readers lingerie, masturbation, if you think I missed anything please let me know otherwise enjoy!

Link to part 2

It started out innocent, he swears

You forgot some of your clothes at his house one time, he meant to just wash them and bring them to you next time he came over to your place

He was going through the outfit you’d left so he could organise your clothes, he didn’t want to put anything through the wrong cycle and ruin them for you, it was perfectly normal

A pair of your panties was with the pile

He pulled them out and couldn’t stop staring at them, a pretty pink lace he was sure you were missing

He looked around for a tag or something saying how to wash it, of course he figured it would be something delicate but he just wanted to make sure

That’s what he told himself

His mind was wandering and he could feel himself hardening in the confines of his jeans

Dave shoved your panties in his face as his hand undid his belt

He palmed himself through his boxers before getting what was a great idea at the time

He manoeuvred his jeans and underwear down so he had full access to his leaky red cock

He began jerking himself off with you panties, his eyes rolling back at the sensation of the rough material on such a sensitive thing

This all started a new obsession for him

Whenever he was at your place he’d make up some excuse of needing to use the bathroom and then he’d take something else from you

It got to a point where he had a stash of your fanciest lingerie

He’d sit and listen to your complain about losing all these expensive sets and pretend that he did know anything about how filthy he truly was behind closed doors

He’d go home and coat something pretty and black in his seed

Wrapping his dick in all your favourite things just to send his mind into overdrive with all these dirty thoughts

Thoughts of you on your knees between his legs, looking up at him with pleading, glassy eyes while your cheeks were stuffed with him

Thoughts of you sitting on his face while he ate you out so deliciously, cherishing all your juices and salty tastes until you came all over his chin

What it would be like to fuck you so good you couldn’t walk the next day

Or have you bouncing on his cock like your life depended on it

He was in bed, his cock and a pair of your panties in his hand as he stroked himself at a fast pace

He wasn’t making any attempt to silence himself, why would he when he was alone?

At least he thought he was alone

He was alone until you came into his room without knocking, he didn’t even know you were coming over and now you were staring at him fuck himself with your favourite pair of panties

#Megadeth #Megadeth smut #megadeth x reader #megadeth fanfiction #Dave Mustaine #Dave Mustaine smut #Dave Mustaine x reader #Dave Mustaine fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

popcornforone · 2 months ago

Text

Domestic

A Dave York Fic

Day 14 of Pedrotober (Free Choice Prompt)

Masterlist

When i first looked at @norththelemon & @alyssamariag prompt list I messaged them & said I’m gonna write it, but where the hell was our favourite stabby stabby. They did he was on one of the original lists before they decided to do the one we have for pedrotober. So I knew from that second that the Free Choice was always going to be Dave. As I’ve sat here & written it, it’s got me feeling all unnecessary. That’s the power Save has over me. That’s why he’s mine. Anyhow sorry…

Synopsis:- Daves losing passion for work & home life, & your feeling it too.

Word Count:-1600

Warnings over & above:- DAVE YORK HAS HIS OWN WARNING! PIV rough sex, swearing, mention of previous passionate sexual exploits, fingering, just Dave being Dave really. if youve read any if previous Dave Reviews you know its about it get Feral as fuck.

Thanks for the Read as always peoples.

Mondays are the worst. He’s always grumpy. So many meetings he has that could have been emails. Debriefs on missions he wasn’t part of. New protocols coming in for what he has to do going forward, but being the best assassin half of this crap doesn’t apply to him. No one would dare even think of warning or firing Dave. He’s too good at his job & if they did, they’d soon become yet another name to add to his list of unfortunates.

October also always seems to be slow for work for him, but this year it’s even slower. An election year means more security. More people on the watch. He’s had 1 poisoning this month which he would have probably sent a child to do, it was so simple. He’s getting bored of office work & he comes home each day grumpy & miserable. Sipping on his neat Scotch & moaning that the world is too safe a place. You always scoff because you know the world is the most unstable it’s been in a while.

You are going to make this Monday night one Dave will remember. You know if he’s not got a mission he will be walking through the front door at 5:22 like clockwork. He will take off his jacket, throw his brief case in the study so it lands on the sofa as he kicks his shoes off. The tie will come off & the top button of his shirt will be undone as he unlocks his phone. He will take the few paces, while blindly looking at his emails, to walk into the kitchen. He will vaguely notice you preparing dinner so that when it’s gets to 7oclock ish it will take you only the cooking time to complete it. He will kiss your check, smack you bum & whisper”how’s your day been beautiful” before getting glass of juice from the fridge & then sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter while you tell him about your day & he nod & murmurs “oooh nice” not vaguely interested in what comes out of your mouth while he doom scrolls.

No tonight that’s not happen you say to yourself. Tonight Dave will be reminded that his wife loves him & needs him & wants to make him feel like a man.

The time arrives, There you stand by the kitchen counter pretending to be prepping dinner, wondering if he will indeed notice or not. The door creeks & you stand there trying to not turn around, licking your lips hoping he will notice.

Dave is sat in his car at 5:22, today has been a long day, a very boring long day. He wants comfort & no questions when he gets in. He just wants to hug you & appreciate you. He rubs his head. He’s become one of those boring husbands. When he first started dating you, your freaks matched. Often interrupted by hotel owners to keep it down at 3am as he fucked you hard. Ruining bedding with baby oil. Taking you to the emergency room that one time the bed broke in a motel & your hand got split by the bed frame. You used to be the pda couple that other couples would moan at. But after 2 years of marriage, the spark is dwindling. He wants to show you he still wants you. He knows he does. But tonight he just wants to sensually make love to you & be your big spoon. He also does know that when work picks up again, he will need a release & you will be the person who benefits from that the most.

In Dave walks. Jacket. Bag. Shoes. Tie. Grabs phone. Goes to…

Pauses…

He looked up…

His jaw hit the floor…

A opaque black robe, black heels, stockings, lace panties, your hair curled.

Daves hit the jackpot, he licks his lips. That’s the girl he fell for. That’s the arse that takes his penis like a champion. That the mouth that moans & is only quite while he splurges down her throat. The pussy that he only has to say sweetheart to, to make drip.

He can feel his cock hardening already. He may have been in that spot for about an hour but he doesn’t care, you always looks beautiful even with no effort but right now if he doesn’t do something, his erection will be out of control & he will cum inside his trousers.

You can tell he’s liking the view, the foot steps stopped. You smile & try look in the stainless steel pot to see his face, but it’s curved so isn’t a true reflection. You then quickly hear footstep behind you. Your arse is slapped hard & you jump a little. Your earlobe nipped upon.

“What did I do to deserve this sweetheart?” He growls. His hand swatting your arse again. Your lace panties sodden already just by those few words & your husbands scent.

“Being my husband, that’s what you did” you snigger.

“You’re breaking my fucking heart baby” he says, slamming his phone onto the counter & then spinning you around. His eyes draw to your exposed breasts. You didn’t even tie up the robe. He quickly drops the robe from your shoulders, & his mouth latches onto your left nipple. You moan & grab the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Fuck baby, ooh god” you groan. You own hand travels to the inside of your underwear but Dave swats it away.

“All mine tonight sweetheart not yours” his lips finally find yours. This was how you used to kiss back in those hotel room, & when you first moved in. Sloppy. Hungry. Passionate. Your hands on auto pilot deal with his belt & fly. He so hard. You know it’s gonna be a fast fuck, you know he’s all pent up but you don’t care. You want your husband to use you & you know that Dave will make sure that later you get what you really deserve.

“Fuck baby” he moans dropping. To his knees as he pulls his trouser & boxers down , but he lingers & with his teeth pulls down your panties. Leaving the stockings & heels on. You automatically open your legs. His tongue on your clit in seconds. Both your hands thrust into his hair as your hips jolt & you moan.

“Fuck Dave” you cry, another swipe happens across your pleasure before he stands up.

“I was gonna fuck you arse but your dripping, your sodden, & your clearly needy” he rubs his length against your clit before he then lift you onto the counter. Your legs are so wide, your cunt dripping, his cock coated in pre cum & your slick.

“Gonna make you scream sweetheart” he says & after a few tugs of his length, he steps into your personal space, does one last tease of his penis against everything that is sensitive & a then in a large thrust fills you up. “Fuck me, so tight” he moans looking at you clamping around him, how your body has tensed up. “Taking me like the whore you are” you sit up a little & grab on to the thin shirt material as he starts to pound.

“Fuck Dave oooooohhhh yes fuck me, fuck me like a whore”

“You want it” his hand that isn’t gripping your thigh goes to your clit”you wanna be dirty for daddy”

“Fuck”

“Want daddy to fuck you like the slut you are, offering your body like that”

“Yesssss oooh fuck yes yes yesssss”

“Walking around in just lace & stocking, driving me crazy?” The room is now filled with your moans of yes & the sloppy clapping noise of his penis pounding inside you, balls deep, flesh on flesh. Like he’s not had sex in months.

“Fuck fuck fuck” your going high pitched & he holds you in place, your had feverishly rubbing your clit, while you grip the counter like your life depends on it.

“Cum sweetheart, let me hear it”

“FUCK ME DAVE!!!!” You’ve not screamed that in a while, but as soon as the words leave your mouth you see stars, as your orgasm hits you. “Fuckkkk”

“Oooh fuck ohhh shit oooh fucking shit” Dave screams himself as he cums & films you up, your cunt drenched in both your essences. He almost let go of you, it’s only your vice grip on his shirt & his cock inside you that stops him from collapsing & causing an accident.

“Fuck Dave” you pant looking into his eyes & rubbing his clean shaven face. His light blue shirt the only thing he was wearing now covered in sweat. He lowers his head & tenderly kisses you. Lips that are no longer hungry but filled with love. You sigh & giggle as you break.

“Good day sweetheart?” He finally asks & then chuckles.

“Yea I guess so” you say as he helps you off the counter & he pulls his trousers back on.

“You guess so?” He raises an eyebrow. He then picks you up & carry’s you over his shoulder, smacking your still naked arse. You are still in just your stockings & heels. “Well I guess I’d better make it extraordinary” & he start to carry you towards the stairs up towards your bedroom.

“What about dinner baby?” You ask as you laugh & wiggle your bum.

“Tonight Dinner can cum after desert.”

45 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 21 days ago

Text

Reprise

Aaron gets a call, and it feels like nothing short of history repeating itself.

-x-

Hi besties,

So, I recently realised all of my hurt comfort lately has been Aaron comforting Emily...so then I wrote this.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Minor Emily Prentiss whump, pregnancy, minor injuries

Words: 3.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He keeps getting interrupted.

Paperwork was the most boring part of his job, but one of the most important. If they got it wrong, if even the tiniest detail was missed, then it could be used as a technicality by a defence lawyer. An error that could lead to a dangerous individual being back on the streets, which was something Aaron didn’t want to weigh on his or anyone on his team's shoulders. He’d been there. Had felt guilty over mistakes he’d made before, and any assurances that he’s human, that he’s bound to make mistakes occasionally, would always fall flat.

He was reviewing casework, desperate to get the pile of files in front of him finished so he could go home and spend the evening with his wife and kids, but every time he was getting somewhere someone would knock on his door to ask a question. A distraction that could lead to a mistake that meant he found himself reading the same pages again and again, not making any progress as the clock ticked closer and closer towards his little girl’s bedtime.

He’d already sent Emily a text. Had let her know he was running late and to have dinner without him but that he’d be home before the kids went to bed. If he wasn’t away on a case, bath and bedtime were his jobs, now more than ever because of Emily’s pregnancy. Not only was she struggling to kneel on the floor next to the bath these days, but she was exhausted all the time. The four years that had passed since she’d had Mae were enough for her to have forgotten how rough pregnancy was, especially now she’d just tipped over into her third trimester.

He knew if he called her, if he told her he’d be even later than he thought, that she wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d say that she understood and she’d hand the phone over to Mae, would encourage the four-year-old to speak to him over the phone so he could at least say goodnight to her. Then, when he did get home, she’d kiss him hello and offer to make him a drink whilst he went to Mae’s bedroom to kiss her forehead and just watch her for a minute or two. Her face relaxed and her cheek pressed into the pillow as she hugged her favourite toy to her chest. Both she and Jack, and the little boy Emily was currently pregnant with, were a reminder that good things existed. That he had the life he once thought he’d never get a chance at again.

There’s a knock on his office door and he sighs, shaking his head as he calls out for the person to come in, his pen already placed down on his desk.

At this rate, he’d get home to everyone already in bed.

“You could look happier to see me,” Dave says, smirking at him as he leans against the doorframe, “I am your best friend after all.”

“Emily is my best friend,” he corrects, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s your wife.”

Aaron smiles despite his irritation at being interrupted, “She’s my best friend too,” he says, his smile getting wider when Dave furrows his brow, “Have you ever thought this might be why none of your marriages worked out?”

He places his hand on his chest in mock hurt, “You know, you used to be a lot nicer before you married Emily,” he jokes, and they both laugh.

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted me?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at him, “Or did you just come in to ruin my flow again?”

“I’ve finished last month's budget reports for you,” he says, pulling them from behind his back and placing them on his desk, “All you need to do is sign them.”

Aaron looks up at him, “I’m not going to unknowingly sign off on the department paying for your next book tour am I?”

Dave chuckles and shrugs, “Guess you’re going to have to see how much you trust me,” he jokes, “You should just go home, Aaron. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow.”

He sighs and nods, “I know. I wanted to make more progress than I have. Cruz has been breathing down my neck.”

“You’ve got two kids and a pregnant wife, who happens to head up his Counterterrorism unit, at home. He’s not going to begrudge you going home,” he looks at his watch, “Especially when it’s already an hour past the end of your day.”

Aaron knows he’s right, but old habits died hard. Even now he found himself getting sucked into work, although never as badly as he had when he was married to Haley. In some ways, he found that Emily's understanding of his job in the way she did helped, because if she ever asked him to take a step back it made him question himself, made him do as she asked of him. He wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t proud that Haley asking him had never been enough, but he knew it meant that he’d learnt from his past. That he hadn’t brought the mistakes from his first marriage into his second one.

“You’re right, I’ll-” he’s cut off when he hears his phone ring, the vibration of it against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office. He frowns at the withheld number and picks it up, sending Dave an apologetic smile as he answers, “Aaron Hotchner.”

“Hi, Mr Hotchner, I’m Lisa, I’m an ER nurse at Stafford Hospital…”

Everything slows down around him, his chest stuttering as time moves like syrup, every second sticking in the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe as he tightens his grip on his phone, surprised he doesn’t crush it as the nurse confirms what he already knows she’s going to say.

“Your wife and children were brought in this evening after being involved in a car accident.”

___

Emily wasn’t answering her phone. It doesn’t even ring.

He calls her. Again and again and again and she doesn’t answer. Each time it goes straight to voicemail the sound of her voice on her personalised message makes him ache, his shoulders so tight as he drives he worries they may pop out of the joints.

He tries again, presses the speed dial in his car but it goes to voicemail again. Her voice ringing out through the speakers around him.

“Hi, you’ve reached Emily Prentiss, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you.”

“Em, call me back, please,” he begs, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him this might be the last time he hears her voice, that this will replace whatever she’d said to him when they left for work that morning in their separate cars, “I’m…please answer the phone. I love you.”

It’s familiar. Too familiar. His hands tight on the steering wheel as he’s desperately trying to get to the woman he loves. Fear greeting him like an old friend as it breathes down his neck, its hand about to reach out for him and grab him by the shoulder. He tries to tell himself that it’s okay, that she and the kids are fine, but he can’t stop thinking that she hasn’t answered her phone.

She would answer if everything was okay. She’d call him if everything was okay.

He doesn’t remember a second of the journey by the time he makes it to the hospital. He flashes his badge at a security guard who tells him he can’t park where he’s pulled up, not caring if it’s an abuse of power. Every single cell in his body vibrating with fear and pre-emptive grief and guilt. He should have been with them. If he’d just gone home when he should have he would have been with them.

He walks up to the desk in the ER, grateful there isn’t a line of people. He’s already speaking to the nurse before she looks up at him, all of the details he had spilling out of him in a second, words tripping themselves as he desperately gets them out.

“I got a call about my wife - Emily Prentiss, she’s pregnant. And my children Jack and Mae Hotchner. I was told they were in a car accident.”

“Okay,” she says, looking at the computer, “Let me just check my system for them…” She drifts off as she types, and he hates how good he is at his job. Hates that he sees the very brief furrowing of her brows before she smiles up at him, “Did you say Prentiss?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice barely recognisable even to himself.

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t see that we have any patients in the ER with that name, and I can’t see your children’s names either.”

He grips the counter, his fingers pressed against cheap wood as he holds himself up, “What do you mean they aren’t on the system?” He demands, shouting at the young woman in front of him even if he doesn’t mean to, his desperation reaching an all time high. He finds himself wishing he’d taken up Dave’s offer of driving him here so that he wouldn’t be alone for this.

“It could mean a couple of things, it could mean they’ve already been discharged,” she swallows thickly, “Or, I’m so sorry but it could mean-”

“Dad?”

He turns around so fast at the sound of his son’s voice that he pulls his neck, but the pain that flares in it barely registers. All the anger and grief floods out of him in an instant the moment he sets eyes on him, on them, standing just a few feet away. Emily is standing next to Jack, her arm around his shoulders and the other arm securing Mae to her hip, the little girl’s face pressed against her neck. The only visible sign of injury is a bandage on Emily’s forehead, the stark white of the material a sight that is a little too familiar for his liking.

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, making it to their sides in a few seconds, pulling them into his arms. His whole world in his embrace before he pulls back, dropping a kiss to Jack’s forehead and then turning to kiss his little girl’s and then finally his wife, “I thought…you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know,” she says, unwrapping her arm from around Jack’s shoulder to cup Aaron’s cheek, her skin warm against his, “I’m so sorry baby. It was broken in the crash. Couldn’t even get it to turn on,” she looks over at the desk, a flash of irritation in her eyes, “And they wouldn’t let me call you myself.”

“And you’re…” he looks her up and down now he’s closer and then at the kids, looking for cuts and injuries that weren’t there.

“We’re okay. If I’d been in the car alone, if I wasn’t pregnant, I probably wouldn’t have come to the hospital,” she assures him, her hand slipping down to his neck, her thumb tracing back and forth over his jaw, “We all got looked at. We have some bruises from the seatbelts, and I hit my head on the steering wheel. But the doctors were happy to discharge us.”

“You’re okay?” He asks, breathless, as if he’d run all the way here. He places his hand on her bump and the baby moves, the breath Aaron sucks in rattling back and forth between his ribs, “And the baby?”

“He’s okay too,” Emily assures him, adjusting her hold on Mae. She turns to look at her, obvious fear shining in their daughter’s eyes and she tickles her to draw out a laugh, “We saw baby brother on the screen, huh?”

Mae nods, her excitement at being a big sister overtaking everything else, “We saw his peni-”

“They said everything looks good. Told me what to look out for that would mean I had to come back in, and I have to arrange a check up with my OBGYN in a couple of days. We got new pictures,” Emily says, cutting over her toddler, not missing the poorly hidden smiles of amusement from some of the people sitting in the waiting room, and the horror on some of the other faces at a four-year-old knowing the anatomical terms for intimate body parts. She presses her lips together and looks at her husband, “I can show you when we get home?”

“As long as the doctors are sure everyone is okay,” he says, “Maybe I should talk to someone, ask them to look at you all again.”

She smiles, passing over Mae so he has the comfort of their little girl in his arms, and he takes her willingly, stamping his lips against her forehead as he holds her close. She melts into his embrace, exhausted by the stress of what had happened, and he runs his hand soothingly up and down her back.

“Honey,” Emily says, reaching for his hand, linking their fingers together so she can squeeze his palm against hers. “We’ve all been cleared. We’re okay. I promise. Right, kiddo?”

Jack nods, “Right,” he smiles at his Dad, “Can we get pizza?”

Aaron chuckles, the residual panic still simmering in his gut, but he clears his throat and nods, wanting more than anything to just get his family home where he could keep them safe, “Yeah buddy,” he says, ruffling his hair, “We can get pizza.”

___

“I have a feeling we’ll wake up with both of them in our bed,” Emily says as she walks into their bedroom, groaning as she sits down, her body aching in more ways than it usually did these days, “But they are both asleep.” She turns to look at Aaron. He’s sitting on the bed too, an arm's length away, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, “Honey-”

“What happened?”

She sighs and swallows thickly. They hadn’t spoken about it, not whilst the kids were with them. An unspoken agreement that they’d leave it until they went to bed. Neither one of them wanting Jack and Mae to relieve it when they were awake, when it was likely they would in their dreams.

“It was low impact,” she says, shifting towards him until their thighs touch. The guy behind us wasn’t paying attention, he was on his phone,” she reaches for his hand when he tenses and links their fingers together, “He went into the back of us at a red light. He’d already been slowing down because he saw it go yellow, he just missed it going red.”

“He could have killed you.”

“He rear-ended us.”

He all but growls, “He was being careless.”

She makes him look at her, her hand cupping his chin as she forces him to turn his head, “Something that I made very clear with a lot of colourful language Mae might start repeating during breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Aaron sighs and kisses her knuckles, “What were you doing in the car anyway? I didn’t know you were going anywhere.”

She presses her lips together, giving herself a moment before she answers the question she’d been dreading all night, well aware of what his reaction would be, “We were bringing you dinner.”

His eyes go wide, the internalised anger she expected flashing in his eyes, frustration she knows he’s sending inwards for not being home on time written in the tension in his jaw. What she doesn’t expect, what she doesn’t see coming despite knowing him better than she knows herself, is the way he bursts into tears. A sob caught in his chest that sounds like it hurts, cracking his ribs from the inside out, the sharp edges of them catching on scars that were already scattered across his skin. Like he’s tearing himself apart from the inside out in the same places another man once tore him apart from the outside in.

“Aaron,” she breathes out, barely getting a second before he leans forward and presses his face against her neck, his tears burning her skin. She holds him close and turns her head to kiss his forehead. She blows out a shaky breath, seeing him this upset enough to tip her over the edge herself, “We’re okay-”

“I know you’re okay, Em,” he chokes out, tears leaving tracks on her neck, his words muffled against her collarbone as his misplaced anger turns into the grief he couldn’t shake off, “But I keep going back to that moment when I didn’t know that you were. It felt like…” he drifts off and chokes on the rest of his sentence, “It felt like my world was ending. If I lost you…”

She pulls back so she can look at him, and she presses her forehead against his, her hand curled around the back of his head as she holds him in place, “Sweetheart,” she says, the nickname he usually used for her slipping free, “I’m right here,” she says, reaching for his hand to place it on her chest, making a point of breathing in and out deeply so he can feel the rise and fall of it, “I’m okay. The kids are safe and asleep in their beds,” she shifts their joint hands to her bump and she smiles when the baby kicks, “Baby boy is kicking up a storm as always. We’re right here. You didn’t lose any of us. This isn’t like what happened with Haley,” she reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek, “We’re all right here.”

He chokes on a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He shakes his head, making it knock gently against hers before he pulls back to look at her, “Sometimes I think you know me a little too well.”

She shakes her head and squeezes the hand still pressed against her bump, “I’m your wife. I don’t think it’s possible for me to know you too well.”

“I’m so-”

“I don’t want to hear any apologies,” she says, wiping his cheeks again, “Not for staying at the office late. Or for crying. You have nothing to apologise for, okay?”

He nods, resting his forehead against hers, “Okay.”

They wear a door open just down the hall, and then the thundering of Mae’s tiny feet against the hardwood floor. When she opens their door and pokes her head around it she has tears shining on her cheeks, her lips trembling as she steps into the room.

“Mommy, Daddy, I had a bad dream.”

Emily shifts back from Aaron just enough to make room for the little girl, “Come here, baby. Do you want to sleep in our bed tonight?”

She nods as she climbs onto the bed, settling herself onto Aaron’s lap, “Yes please.”

Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Mae looks up at him and frowns when she spots his damn cheeks, “Are you sad Daddy?”

“I’m okay, baby,” He sighs and runs his fingers through her hair, exchanging a quick look with Emily before he returns his attention to his little girl, “I was just scared because you, Jack, Mommy and baby brother could have been hurt.”

She moves so she’s level with his face, all but standing in his lap now, his hands on her waist as he secures her in place. She kisses his forehead, making both him and Emily smile, and then she pulls back, “We’re okay.”

“I know, princess,” he kisses her forehead in return and encourages her to sit back down, “Are you okay to get comfortable in bed whilst Mommy and I get ready?”

She nods and then tilts her head curiously, waiting until both her parents are standing up before she speaks, “Daddy?”

“Yes, Mae?”

“What’s a douche canoe?”

#aaron hotchner #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss

32 notes · View notes

neysaadept · 1 month ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 2

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Minors DNI.

Summary: You are an old acquaintance of Rebecca Wilson. She calls in a favor to help the BAU out of a financial debacle. This also means that the current CIA employed Reader has to consult with the BAU to make this work, and not just on paper. This has to be official, which means working with a disgruntled Section Chief Emily Prentiss. A lot.

First time writing like this, so any feedback is appreciated!

AO3

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter 2 - Why Do I Even Bother?

Emily stares blankly at you, digesting this ironic twist of fate that has landed in her lap.

Someone was joining the unit that she didn’t authorize. She could have laughed at the absurdity of it all if she wasn’t so angry right now.

And now, I know how Hotch felt …

When she joined the BAU, there was so much work drama after Greenaway left that the section chief at the time approved her transfer without letting Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner know. Emily had unknowingly become a potential pawn of Strauss to spy on the BAU.

Which didn’t improve her opinion of you. You said all the right words and felt genuine, but this wasn’t sitting right with Emily. What was in it for you? A CIA special agent had more important things to do than moonlight with the FBI. She didn’t even know what skills you had to assist the team in their line of work. Hell, she didn’t even know you existed until today and here Rebecca was vouching for you or you wouldn’t be here. Tara trusted Rebecca and Rebecca trusted you. Should Emily?

In her head, Emily wants to convince herself that both of your odd recruitments into the BAU are different. That you both wanted to be in the BAU and there was no malicious intent. But Emily only knew her motivation. Not yours.

She was trying to make sense of it. The drama in the BAU was not as earth shattering as the fallout with Greenaway. She was dealing with post pandemic political shakes up and Rossi’s mental state.

At least I got my office back and Dave’s back home…

Instead of Strauss, she has a Bailey and Rebecca and you are adamant that there was no issue in making the deputy director upset. Both of you had come to her to explain the situation so she wouldn’t be blindsided by you consulting for the BAU. It isn’t like the AG just made it happen. She just approved of the plan to start the tricky process of how the money gets into the BAU budget. Which makes sense having you on the team. It is the easiest way on paper to expedite the resources instead of having you fill out all the paperwork needed to be granted your funds – which could take weeks considering the sum required. You certainly couldn’t just Zelle the money or cut the BAU a personal check since any government official or agency couldn’t accept gifts.

Ugh!

Emily’s silence was deafening. If she could kill you with the look of contempt she was directing your way, you would burst into flames and become a pile of ash that the section chief could happily walk over without a second thought.

“Look, I know you’re not happy,” you begin to say and Prentiss’ eyes narrow as if you were a child stating the obvious. That did not go over well with you but sniping back would only escalate the situation. And you really weren’t in the mood to go head to head with the unit chief in a verbal spar. Plus, it would make Rebecca mad. You didn’t want to ruin your friend’s reputation. “I’m not that happy either since I’m supposed to be on leave.”

Rebecca shot you an incredulous look you ignore. She was not buying for a second that you weren’t happy working with the FBI instead of taking the leave the CIA was forcing upon you. Prentiss certainly took notice of the reaction.

“And I wouldn’t like it either if someone was forced onto my team without my input. So,” you relax your stance and hold up your hands gesturing to Prentiss, “you make the call.”

“Hey!” Rebecca says, wondering what got into you. “Davis won’t like this if we wasted her time.”

You look at Rebecca and lightly shrug. She scoffs at you being nonchalant about the backlash. “Seriously?”

“It’s Prentiss’ call,” you answer, looking back at her. Prentiss remains silent in thought, studying you. Her only movement was her right thumb and index finger toying with a knuckle on the other hand.

“Look, you can approve of me being here and getting the money. I’ll even sign whatever you want to make good on this. Rebecca can whip that up quick,” you say with a flourish of your hand towards her.

“Gee. Thanks for volunteering me.”

“You’re welcome,” you respond cheekily, but your eyes were still on Prentiss. “I’m sure you two can figure out a reasonable amount of time I’ll need to be on staff to make everyone happy on paper. Or …”

You shove your hands down your front jean pockets as you scrunch your shoulders. “… say the word, and I’m back on vacation. And … hopefully no hard feelings for this whole thing?”

The smile that you give her reaches your eyes, truly accepting either decision.

Emily opens her mouth to answer, her jaw slightly off center, momentarily taken aback with how yielding you were …

“And now I get to spend the rest of my night working on your damn contract,” grumbles Rebecca as you both walk down the stairs away from Prentiss’ office. She had her phone out, furiously typing away to let Tara know she was going to be late.

“Yeah, sorry about your plans.” The smile gave away your amusement. “But think about how happy your girlfriend will be that you saved the BAU’s ass.” You hip check her as you sing song. “I’m thinking you’re gonna get thank you sex for saving the BAU …”

She looks at you, eyes shifting slowly from irritation to delight. “Now that’s a good point.” She fires off another text to Tara and pockets her phone. “And what about you?”

You furrow your brows at the question. “What about me what? I’m not having sex with your girlfriend.”

“God! What is wrong with you?”

You laugh. “There are many theories.”

She can’t help laughing at that. “Fair point. But is there any special someone to celebrate with or you still flying solo?”

Now you throw your head back with a sharper laugh in response. “Yeah, no. Still very much a solo gig. Not like I’ve got time for it anyway. And don’t!” You playfully shove Rebecca when you scold her. “I hear your mind wind working overtime already. Don’t get any fucking ideas.”

“I’d never!” she replies with a shrewd wink as you both exit the bullpen to leave.

Emily watches both of you walk away with a familiar camaraderie from her office door, already beginning to regret her decision to sign you on as a consultant. Were you always going to be this loud and obnoxious? Much of your behavior had been superficial until you realized you had angered her with crack about her fake death. Of course, you behaved long enough for her to take you on and offer a quick, thank you ma’am before degrading into a joke again. She watched as you wiped your brow and breathed a sigh of relief at Rebecca, announcing you were worried Emily was going to say no for sec.

She closes the door as your laughter echoes through the empty bullpen along with Rebecca’s, wondering if she should consider reneging the offer a second time in the last thirty minutes. Silently she imagines a scenario that she follows after you and rips you to shreds for being so passionless to the plight of the BAU and caring only about fulfilling a debt.

Sitting down with a sigh, Emily rakes a hand through her silver locks before taking a healthy swallow of wine to settle herself. You irritated her, probably heightened by her mistrust of you. To combat this feeling to ensure the BAU runs smoothly, she will treat you like the asset you were. All activities of yours will be approved only through Emily as indicated by the contract Wilson would write up. Emily will be watching everything you do to make sure the team is protected and that means you will be working with her. Nothing will be authorized unless she was right there by your side. There will be no wildcards fucking up the fragile autonomy the BAU still has.

Which means I gotta get this clearance confirmation done …

She switches tabs to get to her email and starts drafting an official inquiry to confirm your credentials with CIA HR and clearance with the DCSA*.

Time to find out who you are Special Agent Whitlock.

The next morning Penelope Garcia was fully back to work with the BAU with boundaries. Lovely boundaries that kept her happy to help catch the bad guys without all the gruesome visuals and knowing she would do everything by the book. The team knew they couldn’t find this sicko without her, and she couldn’t let the team down, or know that more people would die because she wasn’t there to stop him. Or heaven forbid, her beautiful BAU babies disbanded by that meanie deputy director.

Her conscious had to remain clean. Mr. Clean clean.

With her assertive demands understood by the unit, it made for a happy place in Penelope’s mind and heart as she works on compiling data from the unsubs phones in the Sicarius case. She bobbed her head to Bad Blood, by Taylor Swift, as her screens flashed with scrolling code.

There was a knock at her door.

“Enter plebian!” she calls out with a flourish of her hand.

“I think I’m a bit higher up than that, Pen.”

“Oh, Emily!” Penelope gasps as she turns around in her chair. Even with her boss smiling, she couldn’t help grimacing “I apologize, my liege, for besmirching your good name.”

“It’s fine. I assume you thought I was Luke?”

“Yes. He was supposed to bring me my smoothie! Big fail.”

“I’ll get on him for that, but I need a favor …”

“Favor may be granted if it aligns with my virtue,”

“Yes, it’s completely legal.” She leans against the desk as Garcia relaxes back in her chair. “I’m waiting on confirmation for a consultant I’m bringing on …”

Garcia’s eyes immediately lit up. and she squeals so loudly it echoes in the lair. “Eee! New blood! Who is it?!”

“Special Agent in the CIA.”

This perplexes Garcia. “Is Sicarius international now? I haven’t seen any data to suggest that he likes to play in foreign lands. So far, he’s a domesticated jerk.”

“No, nothing like that. She’s a friend of Wilson’s who’s helping out the BAU and keeping Bailey off my back, in a sense,” Emily admits.

“In a sense?” She looks Emily down the rim of her glasses, eyes widening with intrigue. “What aren’t you telling me oh fearless leader?”

Emily purses her lips as she points a finger at Penelope. “You’ll be briefed with the entire time when I’m ready? Ah!” she points a finger up to stop the woman’s inquiry. “Not a minute sooner. But I do have some fact finding I want done. “

She smiles knowingly and with promise. “You’ll get firsthand knowledge on our consultant before the team does.”

“Ah, Section Chief Emily Prentiss doesn’t want to wait for the official information to come through and wants moi to enlighten her.” She pouts, thinking, before looking serious. She points her pink fuzzy topped pen at Emily. “I’ll only use official channels and regular back doors that happen to remain open for me.”

Emily holds her hands up in concession. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Penelope puts her pen down, satisfied with the answer and opens a new inquiry on the name Emily provide: Special Agent Y/N Whitlock.

Your feet pound the dirt surface adjacent to the C&O Canal for your morning run today. You had your hair pulled back in a loose bun, deciding to forgo the football cap. The trail has plenty of trees to provide shade, even on a sunny day.

The canal water reflects stone and tree in a still frame as the wind was barely a light breeze disturbing the surface. The only indication were water bugs dancing along the surface to disrupt the moment, small circles overlaying through one another as they ripple from middle to either side.

You are glad you opted for a light training jacket to keep protected against the morning chill despite wearing shorts. It gave you a comfortable warmth as you kept working up a sweat. Running helps to keep wandering thoughts at bay. Your mind focused on the impact of your sneakers against the soft ground, the chilly air you inhale and how it changes to a visible warm mist as you exhale. Breathing and moving. A rhythmic pattern for grounding body and mind.

Your phone was safely secured by a strap around your left upper arm as you listen to Flyleaf blasting away in your earbuds. Without thinking, your speed matches the beat of the drum and you almost forget where you were. Lost in the present. A rare gift for someone like you.

Which came to an unnerving halt when a call came through. You had set your phone to vibrate and bring your arm around to see who was calling. It was Brian.

You immediately stop running and tap your earbud to take the call

“Hey,” you pant out in greeting.

“Catch you at a bad time?” You could hear his amusement.

“Nothing … exciting. Jus’ … running. Or … was.”

You take note of your surroundings and see one civilian sitting on the edge of the canal path gazing into the water. There was another one walking their dog.

“Oh good. Here I thought you’d be getting ready for work.”

You wince, hearing his disappointment as you walk over to a bench. “Word … travels fast.”

You inhale and exhale with purpose, catching your breath. “I’m surprised you found out this quickly since you got better things to do then babysitting me.”

“A consulting job with the BAU?” A pause. “Really? Of all the things you could be doing …”

“There’s nothing wrong with helping them out.”

“Of course not. Unless you’re supposed to be on leave.”

“Wilson called in a favor,” you explain as you sit. “I wanted to help her and the unit out. Bailey’s being a dick.”

“As the director of the CIA, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Still doesn’t change he’s being a dick.”

“Anyway … the FBI asking for your clearance confirmation is what flagged your mischief. Why can’t you just take time for yourself? You didn’t have to repay the favor like this.”

‘I know,” you admit as a squirrel scurries along the trail, looking around for anything edible. “But, I just …” You sigh, heart pounding as you try to find your words. You focus on the squirrel to ground you, watching its tail snap back and forth while its head darts around trying to keep an eye on potential danger. “Come on, Brian. Sitting still’s hard. I need … something to do. This at least keeps me in the country for a while. That practically counts as a vacation.” You could hear how childly petulant you sound.

“With the AG backing this plan you’ve agreed to, I’d have to personally override it to force you take it easy. And that would cause suspicion. And clear favoritism. We can’t have that again. So, I’ll expedite the process on getting your official credentialing approved as requested. I will say I’m happy you’re using your stipend since you barely do. This is a creative use, I must say.”

“Hey, that’s all Wilson. Make sure she gets the credit for this one.”

He laughs. “Fair enough, but you need to be careful. You haven’t been integrated in such a public team in a very long time.”

“Yeah, I get that. I know what to say and not say. Mostly not say. You worry too much old man.”

I probably shouldn’t have said anything about the whole AWOL matter in front of Prentiss …Oops!

“Long as we understand each other.”

“Affirmative, Director Korogoth.”

Yeah, Brian didn’t need to know about her first slip up.

Emily couldn’t make a dent in her paperwork later in the afternoon as reports from all levels of the FBI lab were coming in from the shipping container. Repeated authorizations were needed to keep escalating the DNA testing of the victims, whose families of missing persona were rising in numbers at Quantico. She had sent Tara there to speak with them and provide as much comfort as possible with such uncertainty. They needed time and patience before they could release any information, and Lewis was the best agent for the job of explaining this.

“Knock, knock!”

She looks up and sees Garcia standing in her doorway with tablet in hand and a grimace. “What’s wrong?” she warily asks.

“Nothing Sicarius bad, but I come bringing lackluster news of our dear consultant.” Garcia comes in and sits down, turning the tablet around so Prentiss could see. “There’s like, nothing out there about her. And I tried everything. The FBI, CIA, DOJ, INTERPOL, and O M G nothing,” she finishes with a whine. “I even tried all the backdoors that I happen to know but still … nothing! I never find nothing besides the basic info that they …” she flourishes her hands out in the air at the invisible government, “… want us to see!”

“Hold on, Pen,” Emily says gently as Garcia was on the verge of hyperventilating. She always took it as a personal failure when she couldn’t come through for the team. “Why can’t you find anything?”

Penelope pulls her lips together and inhales deeply in and out through her nose a few times while closing her eyes. With a quick flex of her fingers, she opens her eyes and calmly starts. ‘Because apparently I don’t have clearance.”

“How the hell do you not have clearance?” Emily is stunned, unable to comprehend what Garcia admitted. “You have all the clearances …”

Her eyes ran through the information on the tablet that was able to be pulled: basic physical data and skill sets that a field operative would have with the CIA, list of languages spoken that overlapped with her own, and current status as active but on leave. Clearly the request for consulting with the BAU has not been approved yet. Scrolling further, there were glaring omissions of how long you were in the CIA, recruitment date and where, notable missions that were declassified, and specializations. There was no date of birth nor place listed.

What the hell do you do for them that so much is hidden? Emily wondered as Penelope spoke up.

“Yes, but I don’t have the need to know clearance about Ms. Whitlock. All my contacts said the same thing – the BAU doesn’t need to have anymore information on her except what you have in your hands right there.” She was exasperated, still, from hitting one dead end after another and huffed, crossing her arms. “They also said nothing negative about her, but why the secrecy?”

“Why indeed …” Emily trails off in thought.

Who the fuck are you?

“Is it … ah, worth it to have someone like this on the BAU, Emily?” she asks nervously. “I mean, with Bailey and all. It’s super nice that Tara’s girlfriend thinks this woman can help, but it’s really, really, weird to find next to nothing. I don’t even know where she lives! Her salary! Not even her phone number!” She steadies her hands that started to lightly shake, clearly bothered by this unknown variable.

“At this juncture?” she sets the tablet down and sighs. “Yes.”

“Why?” Penelope asks in disbelief. “This … this isn’t a good idea, Emily!”

“She’s the solution to our budget,” she reveals. “The only one I’ve got.”

“So, what? We’ve handled worse before. We can do it again. Why are you okay with this?”

“I never said I was okay with it. Just that this is the solution I’ve got to give the BAU some breathing room that we really need right now. Soon as we capture Sicarius.” She points to your face on the tablet, “she’s gone.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ll be personally overseeing her as I’ll explain to the team once this all gets cleared and approved.” She looks gravely at her friend. “And that means keeping this quiet until then. Understood?”

Garcia scowls.

“Garcia ….” Emily begins to warn.

“Fine!” Penelope huffs as she rises, snatching the tablet. “I certainly hope you’re hiring Black Widow and not some Skrull that takes us down, boss.”

Emily watches as Garcia storms out of her office with furrowing brows and murmurs. “What in the hell’s a Skrull?”

*Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency.

Chapter 3

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily x you #emily x reader #criminal minds x reader

26 notes · View notes

iwritebigbellies-blog · 9 days ago

Note

Will you spoil us and talk about a dream dinner date (aka public stuffing lol) of yours? Love your writing sm

I'm having eye surgery tomorrow (in 15h!!!) so I can't look at a screen long enough to write long... but "dream dinner dates" are a thing I write about all the time, so I have one in the bank. I posted a fragment of this a while ago... here's the whole.

***

They'd been playing for hours, the five of them; digging up every 5-player boardgame that never saw the table. Nora was used to her regular group, the four of them every Wednesday for years, but this was the first time she'd brought Tristan. They'd been dating long enough, but her friends...they would put him through the wringer. She'd avoided putting them in the same room until she couldn't, but thank god, her big, cinnamon roll of a boy fit right in. However soft he was with her, here, he had a wicked wit and could shit talk with the worst of them.

Eventually, Dave had to head home, but Jorge and Matt were up for dinner. Nora glanced at Tristan.

“You in?”

“Dinner, me?” he said, scandalized. “That would ruin my diet.” Nora almost choked trying not to laugh out loud at that. “But I did spend three hours in the gym today so maaaaaybe I deserve a cheat day.”

Jorge, the only person on the planet who knew even a little bit about her food thing, raised an eyebrow at her. “Diet,” he said skeptically.

“Cheat day,” she said firmly, shooting him her best don’t encourage him look, but Jorge couldn’t have understood about Tristan. Not when they’d met five hours ago. RIP me, I guess, she thought. As if every day wasn't a "cheat day" for Tristan.

“Cheat day,” Tristan repeated with some glee, rubbing his hands together.

Or RIP Tristan. She shivered.

Matt brought them to a pub near his place, craft beers and hi-lo bar foods in considerable portions. Nora knew better than to order anything but a salad at a place like this, but Tristan perused the menu like it was the table of contents and he was gonna start on the first page and work his way to the end. Nora’s heart flipped over half with desire and half with panic.

“Tris,” she said, low, leaning close to his ear. “You don’t have to impress me.” As much as the look on his face lit her up, he’d been so manic all day, she didn’t trust him to be safe.

“I’ll be good,” he muttered back. He took her chin with his fingers and kissed her gently before leaning close to her ear. “Can’t have you having orgasms at the table with your friends.”

Why did that give her goosebumps? He rubbed her prickly flesh until it was warm and soft again, looking as innocent as a lamb. She knew she was in trouble but it was too tempting for her to care.

“Mercy me,” Tristan said to the waiter. “Pint of Blood Brother. Hot Cheetos chicken wings and the mac and cheese. That’s two food groups, right? How about the deep fried pickles? That’s a vegetable. Thanks.” He pulled the menu back before the waiter could take it. “And leave a menu.”

Jorge looked Nora squarely in the eye with a shit-eating grin of pure entertainment. Nora scowled back.

Anyway, both Matt and Jorge ordered ridiculous things as well, so Nora got gyoza and pretended she lived on the moon. Sitting at a table with three men eating like pigs, one of whom was deliberately trying to get her worked up and another of whom would absolutely egg him on was either the most embarrassing or most amazing thing she could have hoped for out of the evening, and the jury was out on which. Their beers came, she snuggled up against Tristan, and at least for the next ten to fifteen minutes, she relaxed into her happy place.

The alcohol helped blur the edges. She loved this. Her friends, talking about games and the people they all knew and sounding out Tristan for his versions of the experiences they’d all had, looking for common acquaintances. When the conversation strayed away from him, Tristan just watched her with a goofy grin. Nora could practically see the cartoon hearts in his eyes.

And lord, they ate. The food here was so fun that everyone had to try everything, and they’d not even made it through the course when Matty and Tristan had flagged the waiter to add a couple more things “for the table.” Nora had been worried about Tristan pushing himself to make her crazy or Jorge egging him on to make her crazy, but all three of them were just in their element, enjoying the food and drinks like they did this all the time. Nora tried to pretend she didn’t notice how excessive it was, and realized early on that she was gonna be the designated driver equivalent, because even though none of them were driving, these guys were gonna have trouble finding their way to the subway, or an Uber. She sipped water and enjoyed the show.

By the time their actual meals arrived, the guys had already put away one of everything on the appetizer menu and two pints each. Tristan sat back on the bench with one arm tight around Nora’s shoulders, and she snuggled into his shoulder, rubbing his belly with one hand. That wasn’t even inappropriate; there was something about the ambiance of the place that made belly-rubbing part of the meal. Nora just leaned into it, practically purring with pleasure as Tristan drank and laughed and glowed with the people she considered her family.

None of them slowed down over their mains, not really, even though Tristan’s “mac and cheese” was a massive skillet of five-cheese gooeyness crumbled with fajita chicken and more Cheeto crunch. Massive was this place’s MO, everyone here knew what they were getting into.

“Hell of a cheat day,” Jorge finally did say, winking at Nora. “I don’t need to eat again until next week.” He’d left a wreck of his burger, which was too big for mere mortals, and was throwing in the towel.

Tristan wasn’t slowing in the least, but he nodded enthusiastically. “I’m coming here every cheat day, starting tomorrow.” He grinned at Nora, who was by now curled into herself, nursing her beer and watching the meal unfold with burning cheeks.

“Dessert, though,” Matty said. Nora didn’t expect this of him, but maybe she should have. He’d brought them here. He knew what he’d gotten them into. “Save room. We have to at least try the tempura spread.”

Tristan nodded. “Save room. Sure,” he said. Nora, eyes flickering to his beltline every 90 seconds, was well aware that room was not something he would save, it was something he would make. “You gonna eat your fries?” he asked Jorge, who responded by laughing entirely in Nora’s direction.

“All yours. Try the burger too,” he suggested. Tristan didn’t need to be asked. He just pulled the whole plate over, polishing off his skillet of pasta in three more bites.

Jorge eventually excused himself for the washroom and Matt was texting his wife, so Nora sat forward, placed a hand on Tristan’s arm, and spoke quietly.

“How are you doing?” she asked. He’d hardly slowed down since the main meal arrived.

Tristan looked at her with a relaxed, casual smile. “My stomach must be stretched out after yesterday. This is nothing,” he said. He pinched some of Jorge’s fries, grunting appreciatively. “What should I get for dessert?” He nudged the menu at her.

Nora studied him closely. “Want to take a break first?”

Tristan crammed as much of Jorge’s burger into his mouth as he could. “Mmm, maybe not. Wouldn’t want all this to catch up with me.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “It’s going to catch up with you one way or the other,” she pointed out.

“Yah, but maybe I can get dessert in first,” Tristan said, suppressing a wider grin. Nora’s eyes bore into him. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, pretending he didn’t notice. “Anyway, I missed lunch, with the gym and all. I’m famished.”

“Hmm,” Nora said. “Are you.”

“Skip dessert if you must, but Matty will join me, won’t ya, Matt?”

Matt looked up, distracted. “Hm? Yah, sure, let’s get the spread.”

“Just a normal, big meal,” Tristan said, a little lower. He finished Jorge’s dinner with deliberation, and snagged the last risotto ball Matt had left behind. Then he slowly pushed back from the table, leaning against the wall.

Nora’s eyes widened. He was full, the kind of full that was on clear display. Fuller than yesterday, that was very clear. He released a slow breath as he eased into a slightly reclined sit, a noise that made Nora’s pussy clench. His belly was so round that his belt had slipped under the bulge and his shirt couldn’t cover the real estate. He wasn’t even trying.

Nora was about to launch herself at him, but Jorge returned from the washrooms then. He dropped in his chair and gave Tristan a look of frank appraisal. “Had enough, there, buddy?” he teased, staring at his belly. Tristan grinned and folded his hands over his stomach.

“We’re getting the tempura spread for dessert,” he said. “You in?”

Jorge’s jaw dropped, and he quickly glanced at Nora before looking back at Tristan. “Where the hell are you gonna put it? I already feel like I swallowed a boulder, and I’ve been to the men’s.”

Tristan ran his hands over the curve of his bulging stomach a couple times, working out a belch. “Wherever I need to,” he said. “Cheat day. I gotta take my shot.”

Jorge finally looked at Nora. “He’s definitely one of yours,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.

Nora didn’t trust herself to speak. She wanted so badly to climb into Tristan’s lap and feel the extent of the damage, but all she could do was turn red and nod. When she glanced at Tristan, he quickly looked away, trying to feign casual distraction. He was flushed pink too.

Matt tucked his phone away and flagged the waiter for dessert and another round of drinks. Tristan thumped his belly twice and lurched forward to lean on the table again. Nora watched as he widened his legs and took a deep breath, his belly expanding, hidden by the table. “I can’t wait,” he said enthusiastically. Nora made fists to avoid grabbing him.

The beers were probably the worst. A pint is a lot of liquid, and the guys were into their fourth, at least. Nora had barely had one and she needed a bathroom break, for more reason than one. She touched Tristan’s shoulder and met his eyes awkwardly.

“I need, um,” she gestured beyond him at the restaurant. “To scoot out for a moment.”

The smile that ghosted over Tristan’s face was almost devilish.

“Oh, of course,” he said. He sat straight and scooted over with a grunt, turning and levering himself off the bench belly-first. As soon as he was standing, he took a deep breath, patting his belly apologetically with one hand. “Whoof,” he said. “Sorry. I’m getting to be a big boy.”

Nora noted he didn’t really move far from the table, forcing her to brush by him as she climbed to a stand. He offered a hand like he was being gallant, and deliberately led her so close that his belly pressed into her. She couldn’t keep her squeak-like gasp silent enough. She noted the shiver of goosebumps on his arm before she released his hand and practically fled.

She used the washroom time to steady herself, splashing water on her face and taking a few deep breaths. She could not have an orgasm in front of her friends. She could not mount the man at the table. Even if he was deliberately trying to push her as close to the edge as he could, she had to hang on. She couldn’t decide if she loved or hated what this was doing to her. She was painfully frustrated and as turned on as she had ever been in her whole life.

When she got back to the table, Tristan was still standing there, Leaning casually against a girder and chatting with Jorge about miniature painting as if his belly wasn’t pooched out like a basketball, his shirt riding up. When he spotted Nora’s approach, he smiled and his face softened, until he caught the look still glowing in her eyes and reddened a little.

Before sitting down, she stepped close to him, leaning into his ear with both hands on his belly, relishing in the size and girth of him while she could.

“You had better not get too full to fuck me tonight,” she murmured, trailing her fingers past the hem of his shirt, over his bare underbelly, and taking hold of his straining belt, “I might not accept that as an excuse.”

She pulled back and met his eyes, finding his pupils fully dilated and his lips parted.

“No such thing,” he whispered back, and she felt his cock throb into his belt just under her fingers, as if making his point.

Nora grinned and slid into the booth, Tristan following so close after her that his belly bumped her ass before she sat and he tucked close to her side an instant later. He leaned in to whisper back:

“Get this belt off of me or I will never get the rest of this beer down.”

Nora raised an amused eyebrow and pressed him back by the chest. She glanced apologetically at her friends and then wrestled his belt open, his fly too, then patted his belly as he took a deep breath and reached for his beer. He groaned exaggeratedly and flashed a broad smile, playing up the role of dumb jock at the buffet. Then he emptied the rest of the pint with one hand on his expanding stomach, burping when he finished. “There we go,” he declared.

“You happy with yourself?” Jorge teased her with a knowing smile.

“He was like this when I found him,” she said innocently.

Tristan leaned over with another exaggerated groan and pressed into her with a kiss that quickly got out of hand. Matt and Jorge laughed and took digs at them, but from where she sat, back against the wall with Tristan’s belly spilling into her lap, his hand pressing subtly between her legs, and his kisses coming heavy and desperate, all she could feel was the inevitable explosion she could hardly keep back.

Then dessert.

Nora had misunderstood what Matt had meant by “tempura spread”, thinking he meant something like a sauce. But no, he meant a full spread of tempura-battered treats, a sharing platter, a table’s worth of desserts that clearly exceeded their remaining capacity. Except Nora knew Tristan wouldn’t let anything go uneaten, so she practically became a coach, bullying her friends into eating all they could just to spare her poor Tristan, who was too drunk and horny and manic to think straight.

Even she ate three things, taking a hit for the team, but in the end Tristan demolished the better half of the course. By the end he hardly seemed able to breathe, and Nora gave up subtlety to sidle up next to him and give his belly a firm massage, he groaning with relief, just to free up the space she knew he was gonna fill no matter what. When he finished, he happily slumped into her, head on her shoulder, moaning quietly with a huge grin on his face.

“I’ve got the bill,” she told Jorge and Matt. “You guys go ahead. We might need a minute before we’re going anywhere.”

“Oh my God,”’ Tristan groaned. “This place is the greatest place on earth.” He hiccuped and pressed his hand over hers where his belly stretched the most. “They just need reclining couches, like the Romans.”

“Glad you like the place, Tris, but I am three seconds away from all kinds of things that are illegal to do in restaurants, so maybe you can come here and recline sometime without me…”

“I would never come here without you,” he said vehemently, “nor anywhere else. You stir my appetite, love. I feast for you alone.”

“Tris, can you sit up?”

“Only if it is to roll into an Uber.”

“You need to get me out of here, Tristan. Immediately.”

“Yes, ma’m,” he said, a little breathlessly. He slowly levered himself off the bench then took her hand, waddling out of the pub with his belly preceding him by half a foot.

“Sorry,” he muttered once they were outside and he’d wrapped his arms around her as she slowly rubbed circles around his swollen stomach. “I didn’t mean to get like…this. I just can’t resist. Not with you. Not while—“ He stopped speaking as his whole body shivered with goosebumps when her hands glanced around to the bottom of his belly, massaging the area firmly under his shirt. His eyes closed with a gasp of pleasure.

“Do you regret this, Tristan?” she murmured, voice low since they were huddled so close.

“No,” he breathed.

“Then don’t apologize. If you can’t already tell how pleased I am, you will soon.”

#female feeder #stuffing kink #belly kink #feeding kink #stuffing #male stuffed belly #feedist writing #feedist fiction

24 notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 6 months ago

Text

EB: and now i have all these sweet wind powers. EB: which is how i am making this car fly! GG: ohhhhhh! GG: that makes sense GG: dave had mentioned you reached the god tier

I think it’s funny that becoming a god hasn’t changed John’s personality, nor his modus operandi. He’s just as meandering as he's always been, and reaching the God Tiers simply enhanced his ability to meander.

If your Title does relate to your personality, then this would make a lot of sense. Perhaps you always get a power that helps you follow your own natural inclinations.

GG: but he did not say what it involved D: GG: he probably didnt want to make me worried EB: maybe, or he was just being some sort of aloof coolkid. GG: or that!

It’s nice that John and Jade are fully on the same page in this conversation, with access to more or less the same information. That’s pretty rare in this session, and it’s particularly rare with Jade.

For a long time, she was in the lonely position of knowing more than everyone else - and then, when Descend ruined everything, she was forced into the equally lonely position of understanding jack shit. When John declared that they needed to get Jade into the loop, there was real weight behind it, and it’s gratifying that we’re finally here.

GG: i wonder what space powers would be like?? […] GG: oh well EB: maybe you shouldn't rule it out though? EB: i mean, you did mention your dream self isn't COMPLETELY dead, remember?

I’ve been thinking about this.

See, the main problem with a Jade/Jadesprite merger is that when John died on his Quest Bed, he was completely supplanted by his Dream Self. There was no more Real John.

This wasn't a problem for him, because both Johns appeared to be the same person, with the same memories and consciousness. When John abandoned his realself, he didn't lose anything, apart from his sylladex.

Dream Jade, however, has completely diverged from Jade. They're clearly different people – so if one of them was erased in the merger, we’d be losing a unique individual.

Yes, if Jade died on her Quest Bed, her two selves might fuse into one entity, with both sets of memories - but there's no guarantee, especially when a Sprite is involved. There's a decent chance that Jade's ascension would destroy one of her incarnations, and that's too great a risk.

GG: why dont you tell me about your new friend? GG: he sure seems to be enjoying that horn! […] EB: he is just this silly guy i met when i woke up here. EB: he seemed to be curious about me and followed me around for a while. […] EB: also, another thing about him… EB: he has the queen's ring! […] GG: thats great! john you have to get that ring from him! EB: i've tried! i asked him politely for it and everything. EB: but he is very protective of it!

The Ring would be incredibly useful, if it wasn't destined for Earth.

As it stands, any attempt to use it is fraught with risk - and permanently separating it from WV would almost certainly doom the timeline.

EB: i think he is supposed to keep it. GG: you do? EB: yes. once i saw something in the clouds. EB: it was hard to tell what was going on, but i saw him! EB: im pretty sure it was the future, and he had the ring, and… […] EB: and then the cloud stopped showing me. EB: but i am pretty sure that some day… EB: he will have to wear it!

It doesn’t sound like John actually saw WV wearing the Ring. Seems more like he saw him holding the Ring, and jumped to the 'obvious' conclusion.

WV held the Ring for his entire Exile, and never used it once. I’m actually a little skeptical that he will wear it, at this point, especially since he's started dreaming about how much he doesn't want the thing.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #3417 #s123

134 notes · View notes

kirk-says-wah · 3 months ago

Note

May I have a request? James is insecure about the way he looks. His last boyfriend called him ugly.

Lars and Kirk who are dating set James on a blind date with Kirk's friend Jason who just moved into town.

But with James' insecurities, he doesn't want to go. So instead they find another way for them to meet.

And I'll let you come up with the rest.

𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚

Pairings: James/Jason, Kirk/Lars

TW: mentions of past abusive relationship

“What are you saying?”

James knows exactly what they’re saying.

He knew something was up when they asked him over for a few beers, because usually it’s the other way around. He knows they like hanging out with him, but he’s noticed that maybe he’s been a bit too clingy.

“Every time we go out, you always have to tag along, so we’re just finding you someone of your own,” Lars says, crossing a leg over Kirk’s lap.

“Gee, thanks guys,” James mumbles, thumbing at the label of his beer.

“You know we don’t mind you tagging along,” Kirk says, slapping lightly at Lars’ thigh earning him a scowl. “We just want you to be happy. You’ve not been right since-“

Kirk stops himself, glancing back at Lars.

“Well, since last year.”

“You mean since Dave,” James grumbles. He tries not to think about Dave too much. He thought he loved him, that he was his everything, that they were gonna spend the rest of their lives together.

But bit by bit Dave would pick at him, making fun of him, calling him ugly and shit, and James let him for longer than he should’ve. He just believed Dave, believed him when he said he’d never make something of himself, believed him when he’d grab at his belly and call him a pig. He thought he deserved it.

It had taken an intervention from Kirk and Lars for James to realise that what was going on what pretty shit, and he packed his bags and moved into their house until he sorted himself out.

Which he did. He lives by himself in a small flat. Even has a room for his guitars. But he’s lonely. And he can’t keep ruining Kirk and Lars’ dates because he can’t fathom spending the night alone.

“You need a man,” Lars says, sipping at his beer. “And we have the perfect guy.”

James sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

“I don’t know guys.”

“Cmon man, when was the last time you went on a date?”

James pulls a face because Lars knows exactly the answer to that question.

“His name’s Jason,” Kirk says, stroking a hand over Lars’ socked foot sitting in his lap. “He just moved back after helping out his mom. He’s pretty cute.”

Lars shoots a glare at Kirk but Kirk just laughs, bending to kiss Lars’ shoulder. James�� heart feels like it’s shrivelling looking at the two of them be so happy. Maybe they’re right. Maybe he does need someone.

“He’s gonna meet you for dinner tomorrow at eight.”

James blanches. “How do you know I’m gonna be free?”

“Well, what else would you be doing?”

That’s true, but James just sighs, throwing his head back against the couch.

“Fine.”

— —

He doesn’t go to the dinner.

He gets dressed, puts on a nice shirt and wears the shoes that don’t have holes in, even brushes his hair, but by the time he’s done he just feels foolish.

No one is ever gonna like him. Dave’s words replay in his head like a jammed tape reel.

Ugly. Worthless. Pathetic.

He strips off and is in bed by seven. He feels kind of bad for standing the guy up, but his fears have overruled the culpability, and instead he falls asleep.

He’s awoken the next morning to someone shaking him awake, and he snorts a breath, snapping his eyes open only to see Lars standing over him.

Fuck. Shit. Why did he ever give him a key?

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Lars yells, tugging on James’ arm until he’s sitting up.

It takes James a moment to realise what’s going on, and the realisation hits him like a freight train. He just wants to hide and pretend this never happened. He attempts to lie back down but Lars just shakes his head.

“No. No fucking way you’re going back to bed. You’ve got half an hour.”

“Half an hour till what?” James yawns, watching as Lars digs around in his drawers, throwing him some clothes.

“Your date,” Lars says matter of factly. James feels like he’s gonna be sick.

“What?”

“What? Did you think I’d let you pass this good opportunity?” Lars says, throwing a deodorant can at him. “Jason’s a really good guy. You’d really like him.”

“What do you know?” James grumbles, still not bothering to get changed.

Lars sighs, stopping his flurry of emotions and turns to look at James.

“Because I know you. Better than you know yourself apparently. And I know you self sabotaged because you’re scared.”

James’ eyes drop, his ears burning. He really doesn’t need to hear this right now. He’s not a fucking pussy.

“Just, meet him. Spend some time with him. If it turns out you’re not ready or you don’t like him or whatever, you can end it. But I just want you to give him a chance,” Lars says.

James thinks for a moment, but ultimately agrees. He has been alone for a while, and he guesses it would be nice to talk to someone outside of Kirk and Lars.

He gets dressed quickly, glad that Lars has made him a coffee by the time he gets downstairs, and within fifteen minutes they’re out the door.

“Where are we going?” James asks, feeling a little uncomfortable. Maybe he isn’t dressed up enough, or he’s too dressed up. What if this guy doesn’t even like him? Or sees him and leaves?

“It’s a little cafe. Me and Kirk have taken you there before,” Lars says. So he’s talking about one of those times he and Kirk wanted to go on a date but James just had to tag along because he doesn’t know boundaries. Figures.

“And where will you be?” James asks, though he hopes it doesn’t sound as anxious as he feels. He’d just feel a lot better if Lars was somewhere nearby so he can come to his rescue if needed. Sure, he’s a big boy, but sometimes he just needs that extra support from his friends.

Reading his mind, Lars says, “Kirk’s meeting me there, and we’re gonna sit outside out the way.”

Still close enough that James can get to them if he needs to. With an escape plan hatched, he feels a lot better, and eventually they pull up at the little cafe.

It’s got orange walls and a wooden interior, like it’s being opened in the 70s, but the atmosphere is chilled. They find Kirk waiting out front, instantly pecking Lars’ lips.

“He’s just inside,” Kirk says, nudging James arm. “He’s like the only one in there. You won’t miss him.”

James just blinks, swallowing thickly, his feet cemented to the floor.

“Go on,” Lars says, urging James forwards. “We’ll be right here.”

James takes in a shuddering breath, and finally enters the cafe.

Kirk was right, it is pretty dead in there, with only a middle aged man sat at the counter and too old grannies in the corner.

But by the window is a young guy, about James’ age, long wavy hair flowing over his shoulders, dressed in a ratty metal tshirt matching James’ own.

James hadn’t realised he was staring at him until two blue eyes meet his own, and a soft smile lures James closer.

“You must be James,” Jason says, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

James smiles meekly, feeling way out of his depth, and nods. “You must be Jason.”

“I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” Jason says, grinning, and that at least makes James laugh.

“Knowing Kirk, it’s probably not good things.”

“Well, he said you were pretty cute, and I think that checks out,” Jason says, eyes watching the flush that creeps up James’ cheeks.

James smiles bashfully, looking down. Jason’s gaze is soft but endearing, like looking at a sunset or a box of kittens. He looks like he actually likes James. And James doesn’t really know how to take that.

“Err- Kirk said you just moved back,” he says, trying to keep up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jason says, nodding. “My dad died a few months back so I was just helping her sort stuff out.”

“Oh fuck,” James mumbles, feeling like he’s stepped his foot in it. “I’m sorry man.”

Jason just waves him off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. So how long have you been living in San Francisco?”

James’ cheeks burn but he clears his throat.

“All my life. I was born in Downey.”

“Oh so not far then,” Jason says, before shifting a little. “Hey, uh, do you want a drink?”

They sit down with their drinks and chat for what feels like hours. James finds out Jason plays the bass and he works at a small tech company across the bridge and he has a cat. Jason genuinely seems interested in what James has to say, and James finds himself opening up more as time goes on.

It’s been about an hour when he catches movement from the corner of his eye, and he flicks his attention out the window to see Kirk and Lars twisting their thumbs up and down, asking if it’s going well. He sends them a discreet glare which just causes Lars to laugh so loud James can hear it from inside.

“Are they bugging you?” Jason asks, smirking.

“They’re just concerned.”

“What? Do they think I’m gonna kidnap you or something?” Jason snickers.

James just smiles, shaking his head, a pool of melancholy dispersing in his bones.

“No, nothing like that.”

Jason’s eyes travel over him, just watching him, and James blushes, ducks his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jason murmurs, reaching over the table to grab one of James’ hands. His fingers are soft as they encircle James’, but James can’t help but feel embarrassed. He doesn’t believe him, and he doesn’t want his pity.

“I’m serious,” Jason says, squeezing his hand, obviously sensing the change in emotions.

“I don’t need pity,” James grumbles, but Jason just frowns.

“I’m not pitying you. I’m telling the truth. Maybe one day you’ll let me show you just how pretty you are.”

James swallows thickly, heat searing up his veins, the notion of Jason’s words making his thoughts turn off and his tongue lie dormant.

Jason smirks.

“Can I kiss you?”

James meets his eyes, sees the affection there, and finally lets his walls break down.

“Please.”

#metallica fanfiction #asks #james/jason #james hetfield/jason newsted #james hetfield x jason newsted #kirk/lars #kirk hammett x lars ulrich #kirk hammett/lars ulrich #metallica fic

28 notes · View notes

lifewithdavefarts · 1 year ago

Text

DaveFarts - Episode 25 “Endurance Test” [Episode List] Tim gets a bit too cocky and challenges his gassy friend by (jokingly) doubting of his farting skills. Dave, whose farts are being as powerful as usual, if not more, gladly accepts the challenge.

This story was originally requested by StraightFartGods.

POV: Tim

The weather outside, despite being warm, wasn’t the best so our plans for the night, being a group of friends who’s starting to surrender way too easily (it’s because once you’re past 25, you get instantly old), we all decided to stay home, our respective homes even, so Dave and I ended up alone. We don’t mind that much.

Dave likes going out way more than me (though it’s not like I don’t know how to have fun) but he too cherishes some good, safe alone-time to recharge social batteries: we’re much more similar than we’d like to admit, which is why we get along so well. They say we’re “the odd couple”, but I think that weirdos simply attract each other naturally, even though they can look very different at first.

“Alright.” Dave said, walking into the living room. He was dressed as if we had to leave, so a grey shirt and a pair of good old dark blue jeans, slightly loose because he untied his belt. “I’m starving.”

“Pizza?” I simply asked.

“The day I’m gonna answer ‘No’ to that is the day you’ll know a skinwalker took my place.”

The power of pizza.

Even though we didn’t actively plan for it, the night slowly morphed into a “movie night”, just the two of us on the couch eating pizza and watching a cheesy, manly, toxic action movie that we can recite by memory because of how many times we watched it: “Bullet Gore”. Now that’s a title!

“Your face is history.” the male hero said, right before turning somebody’s head to bits with his shotgun.

We cheered as and had a sip of beer as if our baseball team scored the match point and enjoyed the unnecessary but fun gore sequences of the film.

“Too bad they ruined everything with the sequel.” Dave commented.

“Aw come on. It’s worse, but not that bad.” I replied.

“Never watched and never will.” he stated, taking a good sip of beer.

By the time the movie was halfway done (it was a surprisingly long flick), I had to turn up the volume because of some noises next to me making me difficult to hear what the characters were saying.

Indeed, Dave started farting, the way he does during nights like these, with pizza and beer acting as fuel for his already incredible talent. He was resting both his legs on the small table in front of the couch, his denim ass facing the TV, so I didn’t have a proper full view of it. I could, however, hear every single blast echoing in the room, with the terrible scent immediately following each thunder.

I would love to say that he was doing this because of my kink, but this is actually what being Dave’s close friend means: you better get used to his farts, because he’s gonna just casually do it in front of you whether you like it or not. He wasn’t even acknowledging that he was ripping one every few minutes, huge ones nonetheless, though once or twice he did snap his fingers to get me to turn to him, so I could see his smirk as he ripped one. Once again, he does this with our other friends as well, but he does seem to put some extra “care” into the teasing part because he knows I actually, well, like it.

But everyone’s got limits: the farts were huge, not overly long, but incredibly stinky. Even for my standards, it was getting a bit… stuffy in there, so I actually went for it.

“I know this is weird coming from me, but… can you tone it down a bit?”

Dave slowly turned to me with a serious, surprised face, and effortlessly replied by ripping a loud, almost wet one, renewing the stench he was immune to. This time it was one of his longer ones, around 7 seconds long.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” he managed to say while farting. “Did you say something?”

After the fart ended and a few moments of silence (ignoring the TV), I opened my mouth to speak again, but my friend’s ass spoke first, emitting another loud, long rip.

Dave gestured to his ear and slowly shook his head, as to say the he still couldn’t hear me, as if we were in a loud nightclub, but the only music piercing through my own eardrums was my bro’s loud fart.

That ridiculous scene actually made me laugh like an idiot, while also giving me the hardest boner so far of the night.

9 seconds and the rip was over.

“So, I did it.” Dave said. “You’ve been healed. I blasted your kink out of you.” he joked.

“Please…” I played along. “Those were like… low-tier farts, for your standards.”

“True.” he playfully admitted. “So don’t tempt me.” he threatened.

I hated that I found that… hot.

“I’m n-not… I’m just s-saying that the entire room smells like, I don’t know, rotten beer? Is t-that even possible?”

Dave laughed. “If only there was something or someone who could fix this!”

“What are you implying…?” I asked.

“Well…” Dave sat normally on the couch. “I assumed your lungs were better than this. But apparently you just can’t handle my power.” he said, with a cheesy smirk.

“Oh…” I got what he meant. “Well, maybe I’m not complaining because of you’re farting too much.” I leaned closer to him, as if we were doing some shady business. “Maybe I’m complaining because you’re not farting enough.” I dared to say.

My friend replied with a surprised laughter. “Are you seriously challenging me?” he didn’t sound offended or disgusted, just amused. But he can get cocky.

“Wanna bet?” I asked, indeed challenging him.

“Alright, get up.”

Dave stood up and I did the same: it truly looked like we were doing a business meeting.

“Challenge accepted.” he continued, and we firmly shook hands. “If I win, beers are on you for 3 months.”

“Deal.” I replied. “But if I win, we’re gonna watch ‘Bullet Gore 2’ later.”

While still shaking hands, Dave looked at me funny.

“Really? That’s it?” he replied, with a smile. “All of this just to watch a shitty movie with me?”

Funny how that’s the thing he found weird instead of, you know, the boner his farts give me.

“Yeah. Pretty gay, huh?” I joked.

“Okay…” he nodded, still somewhat surprised. “It’s a deal.”

We once again had this super manly handshake going on, just as an helicopter in the movie exploded in a fiery fireball, killing a bunch of henchmen and one of the main villains, with the shirtless muscular hero saying something like “Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!”. Probably the manliest moment I ever lived through.

“So, let’s hear those toots.” I said, bravely.”

“Toots?” my friend replied. “I’m gonna blast your face so hard you’re gonna regret having this kink…”.

Dave casually threatening me like this… got me instantly hard. I knew he was just playing along but goddammit, why am I like this? Why is he like this? Why the fuck did I even accept this bet?! As my own mind made fun of me, my bro lied on this stomach on the couch, his tall figure occupying all of it, his nice jeans-clad ass facing up, looking like a soft warm denim pillow.

I simply managed to sit between his long legs and planted my face into that ass, still stinky for all the farts he ripped until that moment. My nose wasn’t facing down however, as I didn’t want to make it weird.

“Dude.” I heard Dave say. “Honestly, your lack of commitment to your fart kink disappoints me”. he then laughed, reaching for my head. “Be a man and face my ass.” he said, pushing my head deeper between his denim asscheeks.

I tried not to laugh myself at that weird statement, so I just obeyed and turned my head, facing down, now fully at the mercy of my friend’s powerful butt. I took a good whiff, enjoying the smell of almost 1 hour of loud, post-pizza blasts. As I did that, I felt the ass’ muscles relaxing, a sign that Dave was pushing one out, and indeed it came out immediately: an ear-piercing blast and made my face shake, almost wet-sounding, felt like a slap on my face.

My task was clear: not a single particle of gas had to reach Dave’s nose, so I inhaled it deeply and loudly as the fart kept erupting straight down my nostrils. I inhaled so hard and for so long that I actually surprisingly outlasted my friend’s 9 seconds: now the only noise we both could hear (besides someone getting shot in the movie) was me breathing his gas in… which made me realize how weird that was.

Am I making this weird? Too… “porn-y” for my straight friend? I love that he has no problems with me and my kink, but I don’t want to cross certain lines you know. He’s not saying anything… but his silence only makes it worse. I had to make sure.

“Dave.” I said, my voice being muffled by his ass, which made him laugh. “Am I making this weird?”

My friend simply turned his head, trying to look at me. I managed to get a quick look of his facial expression but the only thing on his face was a cocky smirk.

“Not weirder than usual to me.” he simply said. He then reached for my head, making it bounce a bit in his ass. “…Ready?”

Another fart erupted, which itself was Dave’s real answer to my question: “it’s fine”, he knows what this kink is by now, and he’s the one who basically challenged me to sniff it all up. Plus, if he was weirded out he knew he could just tell me and I wouldn’t be offended: we’re all adults here after all.

So there I was, my nose enduring some of the worst rips my friend ever gifted to me, the sheer power of those blasts being raunchier than his usual for some reason, maybe because of the beers being warmer or the mozzarella on the pizza being spoiled. No idea.

Or maybe it was just Dave putting extra efforts into his farts, if that was even possible. He’s the Fart King after all, so if he was somehow able to set custom pitch, loudness and power for each farts he ripped I wouldn’t have been surprised. Then again, he could even fart on command, so maybe he doesn’t need more buffs than he already has.

“Your face is history” my friend said, in a deeper voice, a clear reference to the masterpiece we were watching earlier.

And just like the henchman from the movie, my head was blown away by a sheer deadly force, this time in the form of Dave’s being unhinged, each natural blast somehow bigger and better than the previous one. I feel like that it doesn’t matter how this bet goes: I’m winning by simply having a bro like him.

I kept sniffing it all up as the blast rushed down my throat. He was good at farting, but I was also good at taking it. It’s like I said: weirdos work better together!

Yeah, I was taking it all like a champ.

“I could do this all night you know.” he boasted, during a rare moment of his ass being silent.

“What a coincidence: me too!” I bragged.

“Ohhhh… someone’s getting cocky back there.”

Dave really wanted those free beers, huh? He once again reached for my head and, with a firm grip, pushed it deeper down his warm denim ass, now almost sagging.

“Let’s see if you can keep your promise, shall we?” that was a threat.

There was like 10 seconds of silence, 10 never-ending seconds, but I just knew Dave was brewing something big, as he kept my head there (not that I was planning to move it anyway). Finally, he turned to me, with a cheesy grin, purposely trying to look like some kind of serial killer from a slasher movie before finish his victim off.

And then he hit me with his weapon of choice: the loudest fart I heard that night. It was big, it was powerful, it was deep, long. His hand didn’t move and my whole face was shaking because of the sheer power of the blast; I had to close my eyes ‘cause the gas was making them burn. How was it possible to fart so naturally and casually like this for him will always be beyond me… but I didn’t care. I managed to breathe that monster in with my mouth open, almost choking on my friend’s deadly gas.

Dave loved the challenge, but two can play this game! I could tell he was amused, disgusted and surprised by how good I was at enduring his powerful rips.

And finally, after 16 whole seconds, that impressive display of flatulence was over, not a single particle of gas reaching my farter-friend’s nostrils, as I promised.

“I believe you’re losing your touch.” I mocked him.

“With all the farts you've been eating, of course you'd be talking shit you ungrateful bastard!”

“Ohhhh sorry, someone's a little touchy.” I kept teasing him.

“Alright, I’m done holding back.” he sounded comically annoyed by my impressive endurance.

My friend slowly turned over until he was lying on his back, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick me with his long legs. He now assumed a more familiar position, the one he usually has when blasting me. He cocked his legs up, showing off his denim ass and a tiny bit of his red boxer brief, and wrapped his legs around me, pulling me closer to his gas source. His long legs had an even stronger grip than his hand, and my whole face was now completely planted into my friend’s ass.

“I’m feeling merciful tonight, so I’m giving you the chance to surrender now.” he stated, as his legs held me still, keeping my nose right between the rough fabric of his jeans-clad buttcheeks.

“Never.” I boasted. “…unless, you know, you actually want to stop because this is getting too weir-“

“Shut up!” he cut me off. “You just had to ruin my villainous speech, didn’t you?!” he laughed.

I just didn’t know what to say.

“Again, this is your last chance bro.”

I played along, knowing he was okay with it. “Hit me with your best shot, but don’t wound what you can’t kill.”

We both laughed like immature idiots, but Dave took my words at heart, because once we were done laughing at that ridiculous moment, he felt air being sucked inside his anus.

Yes, he switched to “on-command” mode, his secret weapon, his final secret move. Despite my face being there, my bro didn’t have any trouble at sucking more and more air through his ass like a vacuum cleaner, and the sound that made wasn’t that different from an actual fart. Every time I heard that “air-being-sucked-in” noise, as silly as that sounds, I think of a drumroll, the kind of tension that raises before the beat actually drops, because that’s what Dave’s farts are: something to look forward to… if you’re into it of course.

He’s been sucking air for like 20 seconds now and I started to regret my cockiness: when even a kinky bitch like me ends up being afraid of his own best bro’s farting skills, you just know something big, maybe too big, is gonna happen.

The anticipation made me hornier than ever, and the fact that it was, well, Dave, just Dave, my friend, made it even hotter for me. So casually, undeniably hot.

Finally, he stopped sucked air in, and I could hear Dave breathing (from his mouth) heavily, a sign that he was getting tired… and even his ass was getting sweatier and warmer.

“Your face is history.” my bud said again, in a comically deep voice.

We love that movie.

What followed, however, almost made me pass out.

The loudness was almost unnatural, I feared it could make me deaf. Imagine the stock sound of a fart, only longer, more powerful, airy, the most impressive fart Dave ripped in months, something so powerful that he can even feel the recoil as he pushed it out… just like a shotgun.

The more he farted, the louder it got, and I swore he was gonna tear a hole through his jeans this time, there was no way his clothes were able to endure that. I kept sniffing, breathing heavily, the fart’s pace being faster than my own breathing, if that makes any sense. 10 seconds already and the blast didn’t seem to lose any power: I almost got scared.

As the fart kept getting ripped, I felt Dave stretching his long denim legs wide to ease the fart out, which in turn made it sound even louder and deadlier. I felt like living a weird fever dream, probably because of all the poisonous gas in my lungs. But I also felt the luckiest man in the world.

I dared to peek over that denim ass, only to be greeted by Dave having the most evil smirk in the world, completely unfazed by how weird I was, how all of that was… but I could also see how tired and sweaty he was from forcing all those farts out, incredibly enough.

I planted my head back where it belonged, sniffing as much as I could, as if my life depended on it, even though I was almost passing out for all that stench… and the blood rushing down to my boner didn’t help to focus at all.

And yet… I won. The fart was losing power, ending with a quick series of toots, Dave’s legs crashing down the couch, his left one on my right side, his right one on my left side, and I got up myself, my face leaving that gas trap, finally sitting down normally on the couch.

I took a good look at Dave: he was indeed tired, sweaty, sporting a silly smirk.

“Is that how you look like after sex?” I dared to joke.

My friend laughed. “Hey, I love you bro, but you gotta settle for my farts.”

I patted one of his legs in response, as a cheesy way to thank him, and hopefully he knew how thankful I was. I mean, he already knew how aroused I was anyway, so why keep the fact that I’m grateful a secret?

Dave too adjusted his position, this time kicking me on purpose while doing it, and sat back normally.

“I gotta say, I didn’t except you to win.” he admitted.

“…win?!” I replied. “Bro… I was basically done. That last one almost killed me.”

We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Let’s call it a tie then.” he proposed. “Until next time at least.” he just casually said.

I simply turned to the TV, only to find out that the movie was over.

Did Dave just face-farted me for like… 30 minutes?! Time truly flew by.

My friend then reached for his beer and the remote. We some on-demand features on our TV and, after navigating the UI for a few seconds, he started downloading “Bullet Gore 2”.

“Really?” I asked.

“Well, if you can endure all of that gas, I can sit through a turd of a movie.”

I think he was gonna watch this movie with me either way, regardless of any bet, just like I’m more than happy to offer him a beer whenever I could, so all of this fart-bet was for nothing.

Then again, weirdos attract each other naturally...

End of Episode 25

#eproctophilia #davefarts #fart kink #fart story #malefarts

113 notes · View notes