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angelofthepage · 3 months

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Thoughts on the "Updated" Bendy Employee Handbook

Before we go any further, let's make it very clear what kind of post this is: we're not here to hate on the book, and none of anything I'm about to say is said with ill intent. I am here for analysis, constructive criticism, and discussion. This post is a little more critical than what I would usually share, so viewer discretion is advised.

Today we're talking about the newly updated Bendy Employee Handbook, which just recently released as of this month at the time of this post. And I have a lot of questions about this entry, and really, game guides as a whole in our modern gaming world. This book appeared to advertise itself as a rerelease of the original handbook with additional content for Bendy and the Dark Revival, but upon comparing the two, I've noticed there's actually a number of changes they've made, some good, some bad, and some that I'm not sure what to make of. So come and join me under the cut, and if you have some thoughts of your own, feel free to comment or reblog and add to the discussion. Without further ado, here we go!

Part 1: The Baffling Amount of Cut Content

Our story begins where most stories do, the table of contents. So right off the bat, when comparing this book to the original, you'll notice something off.

No, your eyes do not deceive you, an entire section of the original book was cut, on top of making other sections shorter. And the weirdest part? Some of these things were exclusive to that original book, they didn't appear anywhere else in the Bendy franchise. So already we're off to a weird start. Some of these missing pages aren't so bad though. In some cases, they're just format changes to make the book flow a little better/take up less room. Sometimes they succeed in that, sometimes they end up feeling more cramped, it's pretty subjective whether or not this improved the book. But it certainly does cut down on pages. Case in point, the beginning of each chapter of BATIM.

Don't worry, Joey's letter hasn't been cut, but it has been moved to earlier in the book, so it's no longer in Chapter 1. This was a very odd change. Other things that are missing are character monologues, but it's inconsistent. Alice Angel's speech about the screaming well of voices and Joey's monologue right before the final boss were kept, but Sammy's "sheep sheep sheep" speech and Bertrum's audiolog right before his boss fight were inexplicably cut.

Here are a few cuts I found pretty significant.

These pages are all missing from the update. In the case of this newspaper article, what does that mean in regards to whether or not this is "canon" or "retconned"? Joey Drew, did you or did you not have plans to expand into a Bendy themed toothpaste? The people need to know! X''D But seriously, while some of this is inconsequential, some of it matters. The mascot costume in particular, that's the only sketch we get (that I'm assuming came from Bertrum or Joey regarding that part of the parks, no one is specifically credited for making it). It doesn't show up anywhere else in the series (to my knowledge). It's strange that it's just, gone now. The Bendyland spread is such an unfortunate loss, that's some of the closest we've ever gotten to seeing the map of the park. Yes you can see it in BATIM, but being able to get up close and personal with it without having to control Henry was really nice. It makes me wonder if they're trying to erase the past details so they can do more with Bendyland in the future, something that's different from the original vision. I don't think that's it, but it could be, though they'd also have to go back on The Illusion of Living too, given it’s discussed there with some really fun details.

Speaking of which, that's the weirdest piece of cut content: the missing section that ends the old book (that was reiterated in The Illusion of Living). It's Joey Drew's tips for making a cartoon. It's formatted differently and has no images in TIOL, but the basic information is still the same. What's not the same though, is the loss of the tutorial pages for drawing the toons. These are another thing that don’t show up anywhere else in the series, making them a much more permanent loss. And even though this section is cut, it’s still referenced on the back cover of the new book, which is a bit odd.

These were really cute and showed so much personality for not just the toons, but for Joey as he described them. Cutting this was genuinely disappointing for me. Same with the paperwork in Joey's apartment. Those were some of the highest quality images we had of what was on his desk and bulletin board, and I liked being able to see them clearer. The biggest loss of the cut content isn’t just the pages themselves, but the personality they gave to this book, and the Bendy world as a whole.

This was the very first Bendy book to be released, and therefore our first look into this world in this format. And while I don’t think it’s the greatest thing in the world in terms of being a game guide, I didn’t pick up the original for a game guide. I picked it up because I wanted to see if it provided more context for the world. And when it does that, it does a good job. The memos from characters we know, Joey’s financial records, the images from the desks of people like Joey and Bertrum, they give us insight into how things were going at the studio. Some of my favorite details from the original are Joey’s memo about how Susie was replaced by Allison, and the receipt for Joe’s Fine Dining. The fact that that memo was distributed to everyone but Susie enhanced what we already knew from BATIM, and it paints him as a much crueler character than we knew him to be. Not to mention the repeated use of “I have to say, I’m an instant fan”. Having Joey say those words makes the concept of him creating the cycle so much more interesting. Like did he script out every little action these characters take? Or is this something Susie picked up and recycled from him after potentially finding this memo in real life? Oh there are so many delicious possibilities. And the lunch date, oh my gosh. One, it started my quest to build the Joey Drew menu using all the things he eats in the books, because damn does he have good taste. And two, it was so cool to have a look into an interaction Susie told us about in that one tape. Like that was REALLY GOOD. Give me more like that! When you have other parts of the series back up things we’ve heard only one character say, it gives more credence to the idea that they actually happened that way, or gives us a clue that we need to check for character biases when they tell us their side of the story. And in a series where MOST characters are unreliable narrators, that is REALLY IMPORTANT for establishing timelines and figuring out what’s real versus what’s fabricated. That was my biggest hope for the update, for more flavortext and world building that expands on things we already know.

But um…the dark revival part of the book doesn’t do that.

Part 2: The Dark Revival’s Minimal Offerings

After an abrupt jump from Bendyland to BATDR, we get into the new stuff. The Bendy and the Dark Revival section of this book is alarmingly short and has very little substance. There is no new expansion of the worldbuilding or insight into these characters. I mean, the book describes Heidi as being a female lost one? So if you wanted a confirmation on her gender, there you go I guess? I guess that detail was never like, stated explicitly, but this is me stretching to find something new that it gives us. Actually, wait, it does give us one new thing, but I’m gonna be honest, it kind of rubbed me the wrong way.

The book refers to Allison having a “pet wolf” when we get her introduction in Chapter 1. It then later describes that Tom “likes being pet” when we get his introduction in Chapter 5. Which by the way, is the only image of Tom in this entire book, since his original render from the old version was cut. Now, I’ll be honest, I used to like that second detail, I thought it was cute that he doesn’t just tolerate Audrey, he actually LIKES being pet. Those are two different things, having some insights into Tom’s feelings and characterization would have been a breath of fresh air. But no, when I reread the book and saw that first detail, that made that really weird and uncomfortable actually. It would be one thing if in-universe, Tom called himself a pet, or Allison called him that with consent. Heck, if there was another character in-universe who wanted to purposely insult Allison and Tom by saying that, that would be fine too, then it’d be reiterating the narrative. But on its own? I take issue with taking Tom of all characters and calling him her pet. The Safehouse Boris never got treated that badly, hell, Buddy in the books never got dehumanized this badly when he became a Boris. But Tom, Tom gets to be the one that’s dehumanized? There is something that really rubs me the wrong way about that. Especially if he turns out to be Thomas Connor or has some connection to him. I can’t assume if he is or isn’t anymore given all the stuff BATDR pulled with Allison and Henry. But on the chance he IS Thomas Connor, do you have any idea how bad that looks, to have a character that, because of details written in Dreams Come to Life, many fans speculate to be a person of color, referring to him as Allison’s “pet”? And even if he ends up not being a person of color (I say as I groan about the inevitable discourse for the DCTL graphic novel that’s coming out), it’s still kind of awful to say that about anyone. Tom is a character that has repeatedly gotten the short end of the stick in this series. He’s relevant to BATDR for all of a couple of minutes, and he’s incredibly underutilized and lacking details or depth for most of the series. Thomas Connor, he gets a bit of depth as of The Lost Ones, that novel does great things for him. But Tom Wolf? Short end of the stick. And I’m sad to see that continue here.

The one positive thing I have to say about this section is that it’s really nice to have so many of the audiolog character transcripts here. Most of the notes and logs from BATDR are here with all their words typed out. The ones that in-game had a chiller styled font are transcribed a bit strangely, as now they’re written like the messages written on the walls in-game. But it’s not the worst. If anything, all of this gives me a great resource as a theorist. Having a record of all of these and what chapters they appear in makes my goal of constructing a timeline and cross checking information much easier.

Though from a graphic design standpoint, these pages frustrate me a little bit. They’re so cramped, and there’s several spots where the text isn’t centered properly within its text block. I get the sense on some parts, it’s because it’s placed so close to the spine of the book, so they don’t want any information getting cut off, but it still looks funky. And there are several spots where that explanation doesn’t really apply. There’s also some weird placement of fun facts. While I love that this book lets us in on some secrets, they’re not always placed in an area that makes sense? Like, there’s a note about how to get the Inkjets Concert, but the steps for how to get it are placed way after a point in the narrative where you’d be able to get it, and I’m kind of scratching my head as to why it was done that way. Is it to encourage a second playthrough? Or is it to not spoil the story? Why not split the information up? Or have a dedicated secrets page like they do with the achievements and theMeatly’s cutouts?

Though speaking of not spoiling things, this book is really odd about what it chooses to focus on. So, Henry’s model is in this book, right next to a passage about a “mysterious man” you can meet in the Cyclebreakers area. They showed his model but didn’t name him as Henry? I don’t quite get that choice. Also, despite the cyclebreakers being very important to this story, they aren’t really mentioned before this very brief section. However, Porter? The character shown for all of a few seconds? He’s got at least three images throughout this book. The balance feels off with what this book chooses to put emphasis on.

Also, this one really annoyed me: Allison. So for everyone who’s actually played BATIM, you would know that Allison Angel is never referred to as Allison within BATIM. We only know she’s called that because people dove into the game’s files and revealed her and Tom’s names upon the release of Chapter 4. And the book follows suit with this, it does not call her Allison in the original handbook whatsoever. HOWEVER, the BATDR section messes this up. When it introduces her, even though in-game she introduces herself as Alice, the book introduces her as Allison. But when we get to Chapter 5, the part where she’s actually named Allison by Audrey, it suddenly switches to calling her Nice Alice? It’s a weird choice and I don’t understand why this happened.

It leaves me wondering just how much the new author of this section and their editors know about the Bendy series before going into this project. What context were they given to write this thing? It makes the book feel unpolished to have so many mistakes in its formatting and information. I don’t know what the quality control team for this release looked like, but a part of me wonders how many editors this went through before making it to the final release. I don’t work in publishing to know what that looks like, but I’d genuinely love to learn more on this subject, it’s fascinating.

There’s also a very strong dissonance in the imagery. While I’m glad to see the renders from BATDR’s advertising so clearly and up close, the difference in their coloring looks strange when put next to the rest of Bendy’s usual color palette. It leaves me wondering what assets the book team was given for use in this release. There’s a lot I could say here about the importance of press kits and brand guidelines, especially in this day and age when so many fans are making just as high quality of content as the official releases of media. And that leads me to the most disappointing part of this book.

Part 3: Stolen Content

If you’re active in the Bendy fandom and know its many creative members, then you may already know what I’m about to dive into. MLSpence3D is an artist that enjoys 3D modeling, rigging, animating, and rendering. He can often be found engaging in all sorts of corners in the indie mascot horror community, such as playing a notable role in the production of SuperHorrorBro’s upcoming title, Glitched Out, as well as providing the renders used on the Bendy Wiki of the in-game characters. Spence has had his work mistaken for official renders before, and unfortunately, it’s not just fans making that mistake. The render of the Piper used in the BATIM portion of the original handbook is Spence’s, and it unfortunately hasn’t been removed in this update, nor has he been credited or asked for permission to have it used here. I’ll admit, his stuff looks so official that I’ve mistaken it as such too, and it speaks to a much needed conversation on assets, metadata, and protection for artists of all mediums.

Our fandom is not the only place where this happens. Back when FNAF: Help Wanted was in production, the cover art mistakenly used fan renders as a part of its photomanipulation. Developer Scott Cawthon was quick to apologize and make things right, removing the renders and replacing them with officially made FNAF models. Heck, we had something similar happen right here with Bendy back when the voice cast of BATDR started working with Streamily. The initial post that advertised their Streamily debut used renders from Spence and a few other artists that had to be tracked down, and they didn’t have the rights to use them, nor were they credited. It makes a lot of sense that this happens, when you don’t have sufficient resources and aren’t an active member of the fandom, if you’re a graphic designer trying to make a piece to advertise something, you’re going to need assets to make that. And if you’re not given sufficient assets by the people you’re designing for, you turn to other sources to get the job done. They may not know what on Google is official vs fan content. The fans are so skilled and passionate about what they do, and with the number of series that have fans steadily joining the official teams, it’s incredible what can result from being passionate. But it also makes for a much needed reminder to add metadata to your files so that they can be traced back as belonging to you. Watermark your stuff, clearly mark your work as fan content in the tags, captions, and descriptions, in an effort to protect yourself. Don’t use images you find online unless you have a very clear idea of where they came from, so you can direct people back to the source when they ask about it (or better yet, link the source in your description from the start). Give people another reason to pause and double check their work in the chain of command (they should be pausing to double check anyway, but let's be real, we don't live in a perfect world). In a world where credit and sources are more important than ever, remembering to give credit where it’s due from the start will save you all kinds of headaches in the future. Video game developers, especially those of you in the indie scene: please develop press kits to give to people your teams collaborate with. By giving them assets they can reliably use to advertise for you, you will save everyone a lot of hassle in the long run. And if this is still happening even with a press kit, it merits having some conversations to evaluate why and solve the problem. If there is no other takeaway anyone gets from this post, this is the big one I want to see some positive change on in the future.

Part 4: The Functionality as a Game Guide

This book works for your first time through BATDR, but not for any kind of sequential playthroughs. The way it directs you through the game uses the audiologs and notes as waypoints. Once you pick them up, they are removed from the environment, and so if you’re picking up the game after a long time away from it, you’re not gonna remember where those were, so it’s likely not going to be useful for navigating. It reminds me a lot of the way my parents talked about one of our old hometowns. We lived in Vermont for a little while, and there were two things about our area that we laughed about. One, never leave your car unlocked unless you want it filled with zucchini. Two, if you ask for directions, you’re not gonna have a clue unless you’re a local, because they word everything in a similar fashion to “you’re gonna drive past where the old barn used to be”. At least give me a landmark that still exists, or a map! The BATIM chapters aren’t much better, they sort of give you a layout map, but it’s not helpful. Especially in Chapter 3, the place where you arguably need a map the most, there is no kind of instruction for how to get through Alice’s fetch quests if you get lost.

In my mind, a game guide is something you turn to when you need help getting through a game. Now, mind you, I am not the target audience for a game guide. I don’t own game guides. There are a few in my household that my siblings own, for stuff like Super Mario Sunshine, and I guess technically my Pokedex for Pokemon Black and White 2 DOES double as a game guide. But like, we now live in the age of the internet. If you want to know how to get through something, there are a million articles and Let’s Plays that detail how to complete the base story, find secrets, and even suggest strategies for tackling difficult challenges. Some of these are designed to be informative, and some are more reactionary and built for entertainment, there’s lots of flavors to choose from!

And it makes me wonder, what does that mean for the medium of game guides as a whole? I think they still have their place. For one thing, different people benefit from different learning styles. Being able to read a guide may work better for someone than a video depending on their brain wiring. And for people who don’t have reliable or frankly any internet, or rely on a library for that, it’s nice to have a book so that you don’t have to wait to keep playing. I’ve never seen anyone get a game guide from a library, but I absolutely think it’s something a library could have. It’s also just really convenient to have all of that information available in one book, as opposed to having to search through multiple forums and sources and risk getting spoiled. And when they’re done well, sometimes they can have secrets not even the existing player base knew. Like I knew that there was this secret about a ghost train that appears if you set your system’s clock to 4:14, but I didn’t know if AM or PM mattered. Thanks to this book, now I know that it doesn’t matter, both work, which is really handy to know! But uh…most of the secrets that were revealed in this book were things I knew within the first month that BATDR came out. None of them were new to me as someone who’s plugged into the world of Bendy. There have been multiple videos detailing how to get these secrets, and how to play this game, by many different indie horror enthusiasts. It almost makes it feel like this book came out a bit too late, and it’s only released about a year or so after this game came out.

Which really begs the question, who was the target audience for this book? Was it for new fans who were struggling with these games? Was it for longtime fans who wanted a memento of the occasion and a record of all the stuff in these games? Was it for lore hunters hungry for new secrets and world building? Having read both versions of the employee handbook, I still can’t definitively say who the target audience is. That kind of frustrates me, that’s the first thing they taught us about back when I went to school for graphic design. It’s important to keep your audience in mind when designing something, that way it caters to their needs, appeals to them, and gets your message across effectively.

Part 5: Final Thoughts

I still can’t say for sure what I was supposed to get out of this.The parts of it that I found charming and appealing were not continued or built upon in this update. There is no new world building or lore. It doesn’t do an effective job as a game guide given its reliance on non-permanent elements of gameplay. It doesn’t give us tools to cross reference what we know from previous entries, nor does it expand upon details that lacked clarity within BATDR or BATIM. It removed some of its more charming content, and it still has stolen artwork from its previous iteration. By the time I got done reading this book, I was left feeling disappointed and kind of exhausted. No joke, I grabbed a friend, and we went through it all to compare it page by page to see what changed. It was something you could make a drinking game out of, not that I would recommend that.

I would struggle to recommend this book to any Bendy fan, unless you’re a completionist like me who wants to own every book as a physical copy. The original employee handbook was a far better read, and if you can find a copy secondhand or at your local library, you’re in for a small but tasty treat (quite literally if you decide to make the bacon soup recipe, which fun fact, originated in this book and was developed by the wife of Bookpast, one of the writers on this series!). The Dark Revival section feels tacked on and not as well thought out as the original book was. There is a very odd disconnect between the two. I’m genuinely confused as to why it was put in a rerelease of this book rather than making an entirely new book for Dark Revival. Dark Revival is a much longer and detailed game than Bendy and the Ink Machine. I would expect a book that describes how to play it and its world building to take up a lot more pages and go in depth on different details than this one did. So why was it done this way? Does this have to do with some sort of contract with Scholastic that we don’t know about? Was there a time constraint, or a page count that had to be met that they couldn’t meet with just BATDR? Did the people working on Bendy have too much on their plates to dedicate the time to a new book? What happened here? I wasn’t expecting to leave this book with more questions than answers, but here we are.

Overall, I don’t think it was worth what I paid for it, but it’s going to live on my shelf with the rest of my books. This will be handy for when I need to reference the audiologs and don’t want to look up a YouTube video to remember what was said. It’ll also be nice if I’m traveling. See, whenever I visit my grandparents, their wifi is pretty limited, so if I want to draw anything while I’m up there, I have to print out references or download images on my phone before I go so I can do that. Having some of the new renders in this book will be useful if I decide I want to draw Bendy stuff or theorize while on the road.

Now it's your turn. Tell me your thoughts on the Updated Edition of the Bendy Employee Handbook! Is this something you want to read? If you have read it, did you enjoy it? Were you left wanting more? If we ever get another book like this, what sort of things would you like to see? Let's talk about it. And remember, if you did enjoy it, that's not a bad thing, absolutely no judgement there. Just because it wasn't for me doesn't mean it's not going to be enjoyable for someone else. Every work of fiction has its audience. <3 Here's wishing you a wonderful rest of the day, and happy reading!

#bendy employee handbook spoilers #bendy employee handbook #bendy spoilers #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #batim #bendy and the ink machine #bendy books #bendy book spoilers

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littlefeltsparrow · 10 months

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You know what? I’m still mad about Papa Archeron getting a portrait while Nesta didn’t.

Nothing stokes my rage like that poor excuse of a parent being glorified in death while his eldest daughter is lambasted for not parenting his children for him. Despite the fact that he was the Archeron sister’s only living parent, the responsibility of parenting more often than not seemed to be placed on Nesta. Strange isn’t it? That the child was deemed more culpable for failing to parent than her LITERAL FATHER who mind you, fucked off to who knows where in the middle of a conflict only to return and be tragically murdered by the big bad villain.

But that’s not all. Papa Archeron dying saves SJM some major brain gymnastics. Because he died suddenly and tragically, he never has to answer for his failures as a parent. He’ll never have to face his daughters and make the effort to fight his wrongs because he conveniently was able to take the easy way out. Because of this, the lion’s share of culpability gets placed on Nesta’s shoulders (and don’t get me wrong, Nesta has failed her sisters before but not to the degree that their father did) where she is then left to suffer the consequences of her Father’s negligence.

Listen, I’m not about to claim that Nesta wasn’t bitchy and ungrateful towards Feyre during ACOTAR and a few more instances throughout the series. Objectively Nesta has been cruel and unkind to her younger sister when it was completely uncalled for. But I take issue with the fact that Nesta is held responsible for things that were ultimately her father’s fault and he.d to a much higher standard than many of the male characters in the series.

Nesta was far from perfect as an older sister, but she still made efforts to mend her relationship with Feyre during ACOTAR and ACOMAF before becoming the main scapegoat of the inner circle. You know what I never see? Rhysand or any members of the IC speaking ill of papa Archeron or expressing any anger whatsoever that he failed his daughters during an extremely vulnerable period of their lives. But you know what I do see? Every IC member judging Nesta so harshly and treating her so callously for her failure to protect and nurture Feyre while they were living in poverty. And yet, who is blamed for Feyre’s illiteracy? Who is blamed for Feyre’s decision to hunt in the woods when their father was RIGHT THERE?

Let’s be real here, Nesta receives more in-text and out of text criticism than Papa Archeron for two reasons. Firstly, Nesta is an actual character while Papa Archeron is a plot device used to explain why the sisters are in such a poor situation. HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE A FIRST NAME! So how can I possibly engage with his character in a meaningful way when his characterization has as much substance as a pile of cobwebs.

Secondly, Nesta is assumed to be more culpable in the neglect of Feyre’s safety and education because it was expected that she take up all the maternal duties to compensate for her Father’s absence. Even though Papa Archeron was there physically, there is little evidence that he contributed to any community building in their family or made any attempts at mediating conflicts between his daughters. As a father, there isn’t much expectation on him as a parent while for Nesta there is. Nesta’s refusal to be parentified was a subversion of the expectation that she would become a sacrificial parental figure to her sisters (despite only being a few years older than them). As such, Nesta’s refusal was viewed as more offensive and wrong than Papa Archeron because it was a resistance to rigid gendered expectations being forced upon her.

And then we come to the ultimate conclusion of Nesta’s lack of a portrait. Papa Archeron gets to die a hero and have his daughters honour his memory while Nesta has to live with the consequences. Nesta is the one who was there and yet she’s punished tenfold on a much larger scale by a clique of immortal fairies with no sense of proportionality when it comes to wrongdoings.

#anti sjm #pro nesta #anti nessian #anti ic #anti rhysand #sjm critical #acosf thoughts #acotar #nesta deserves better #nesta archeron

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beastyboyxx · 4 months

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Your Body, My Rules. ★★★

Summary: With a rough gig resulting in you almost eating another bullet to the head, you decided to treat yourself in the best way you knew how. Although it slipped your mind that Johnny had front row seat to your whole sexual situation.

Warnings: Dialogue Heavy, Smut, MLM, Johnny Taking Control, Getting Caught, Handjob, Overstimulation, Johnny Is An Asshole, Teasing, Humiliation, Ruined Orgasm, Multiple Orgasms, Johnny Using Your Arms, Forceful Johnny, Restraining, Forced Orgasm, Choking.

Characters: Johnny Silverhand

Category: One-Shot

Series: Cyberpunk 2077

Word Count: 1691

Your hand was working its magic. It didn’t take much for you to be in bed, kicking your shorts off and stroking your cock like no tomorrow. Who wouldn’t after the night you had.

Some gig you took on was a spoon full. Wraiths giving you a proper beat down while you tried to hack some data. Eventually, it ended in a blood bath as usual. And now you were pissed you had just risked your life for some lousy data that probably meant jack shit.

It was enough. For now at least, but it wouldn’t hurt to get a joytoy, although it was a bit embarrassing to do so. Especially ordering one to arrive at your doorstep. So your hand would have to suffice.

Leaning up, adjusting so my back was firm against the wall I spat onto my palm and continued. The sensation that was so familiar never got old surprisingly.

“Fuck… yeah that’s good.” I groaned. My head dropping back to the wall as I closed my eyes to take in all of the feeling.

“Well what the fuck.”

My heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t exactly honorable to get caught with your shorts down and cock sprung out. Quickly I tossed a blanket over my bits in a blink. My eyes darted around my apartment but no one was seen.

“The hell—? I… oh fuck.” My head fell back with a groan. It clicked, like a lightbulb flickering on. It was none other than the annoying construct Johnny Silverhand.

“Truly a sight to behold. My fleshy prison jackin’ himself off to get some edge.” His voice was wired into my brain. Almost as if he was right in my ear. “Did you really get all pent up you forgot about the little voice in your head?”

“Can it Johnny. You’d be doing the same.” I spat out. More pissed knowing I had been caught. Especially with peeping eyes that could’ve been watching the whole time.

“Quick to assume. I don’t blame you though but Jesus you are horrible at handjobs.”

“Not your place to be criticizing how I pleasure myself. Fuck this—“ I reached over to the nightstand. The blockers Misty had given me were practically shining as I outstretched my hand.

“What— Johnny what did you do.”

My whole arm flexed and stopped. It was like some force was keeping my arm outstretched. “What the fuck!?”

Suddenly my arm was forced onto the sheets of my bed, then my arm raised up to meet my face. My fingers clenched then released all not by my own doing. Johnny chuckled deep within my head.

“Now we’re talkin. Just sit back and relax, I’m taking the reins for this show.” Johnny lowered my hand to my throbbing length.

“Hey—! Johnny I swear—“ my free hand darted down trying to stop him. It repeated, arm stopped midway and was forced back behind my head.

The position I was in was like some beer dad relaxing on the beach although it was a cock in hand rather than a cold one. Very fitting for Silverhand.

“Knock it off already! Jesus Johnny!”

“Not till I’ve had my fun. Just because we now share the same body doesn’t mean I can’t indulge myself. Your body, my rules.”

“That doesn’t make any sense— ohh god…”

Johnny began stroking, using my hand as his own. I couldn’t tell if he felt it too, but god it was electrifying. The image of your hands jacking yourself off even though it isn’t your doing was igniting some sick kink in my mind.

His laugh echoed in my head. If he decided to appear I’d probably be fully at his mercy. Silverhands pace was moderate, not too fast not too slow. My head rolled back, eyes closing, as I tried to imagine it was me rather than Johnny doing the stroking. Just to save myself as much dignity I had left.

“Yeah that’s it…” Johnny purred. “Just relax…” every word he slurred out in a breathy whisper. You could hear the smile through his voice.

“Shut up already…mmmhh-“

“You like this huh? Somebody else using your body. Y’know it’s me who’s jacking you off right?”

“Just shut up—!”

“Really going to yell at your caretaker?”

Suddenly Johnny sped up. His hand moving at a vigorous pace that had my legs tense, and my head roll forward as curses pooled out.

“You digital prick—! Fuuuuck! Hahhh”

“Let’s roll out the red carpet for this first one yeah? Make it so you’re drooling like a dog.”

“You’re such an asshole— Mmmngh!” I bit my lip. It was embarrassing enough I was reacting but the noises really got under my skin. Maybe Johnny wanted that.

Silverhand chuckled. He knew exactly what he was doing and I hated it. I hated him. I hated this.

“Almost there already? Jesus you’re sick…”

“You— would… be the sa—me… Aahhh slow down!”

“Not gunna happen. Not till you’re begging me for mercy, that alone would probably make my own little bubble pop.” Johnny moved my right hand down to my throat. My thumb pressing into my adams apple til all fingers were wrapped tightly around my throat.

“So indulge me. Your body is mine.”

His stroking quickened, then slowed, then my hand ran up to the aching head of my cock that was already slick with precum. Johnny running my fingers around the head shaping it into an O shape. My waist and lower legs tensed and flexed until I felt my body slip away control of my lower bits.

It was horrifically embarrassing. Johnny was fucking my hips into my hand like some pitiful desperate slob. But god did it feel good. It was in this moment I was thankful he couldn’t read my thoughts. Not entirely.

My eyes rolled back. The sight was one to witness, and definitely one to rile anybody up with a hard on n’ such. Considering the position my hand at my throat, my hips desperately bucking up into my hand that kept still. All of it mine, but not by me. Johnny you sick fuck.

It wouldn’t be long until I popped. Rearing near I felt that build up to the final blow. Although I don’t think Johnny wants this to be a “one and done” game.

“John—ny! Jesus Christ! You… Hahh— bastard—! Fuuuuuck!!”

Strings of my slick shot out in ropes. My body gaining back some control while I bucked out a few more thrusts into my hand. I fell back onto the bed, panting from the erotic handjob given by Silverhand.

“Perfect. Now that you’re all hot and bothered let’s get to the real fun part.”

My body tensed again, arms down at my already sensitive cock while my legs were spread apart.

…

Some time had passed. My mind was fogged along with my apartment turning into a hazy blur. I lost count but was easily reminded of how many times I already came from that stupid fucking voice buried deep into my head.

“Whoa! That makes what…? Three? Four? Jesus kid.” Johnny smirked with his voice. I wanted to gut him.

“Haahhh— You sick… fuck.” A loud, erupting groan rolled my head back.

Johnny had my hand jerking on my cock while my free hand was holding my body up. My back facing the ceiling as my waist was lifted, thanks to Johnny. He was hoping to coat the sheets again with the already found pool just underneath me.

“C’mon… I know you got at least one more. A man of your stature doesn’t have a lot of time to fuck his stress away.”

“You talk… to mu—ch…!”

“I think you like it. Your cock gets all kinds of bothered whenever I choose to speak up.”

“No shit.” My jaw clenched, eyes dropping to the sight of my hand once again jerking out another orgasm.

“You can give Johnny one more can’t you?”

“God damnit—!”

My eyes screwed shut as that familiar erotic sensation rolled through my body. My toes curled as I took a fist full of the sheets. Another ready to ruin my bed—

“Not so fast.” Johnny purred. My hand stopping at the vigorous speed to a squeezing stop. My body jerked as it tried to release but to no avail.

“What the fuck Johnny!?”

“What? Gotta have a little fun for myself right? You get it.”

“You’re an asshole…!”

“Right, say that to the guy who’s been jacking your cock for the past hour now.”

Johnnys voice chuckled deep within my brain. Johnny forcing me to lift myself as I faced my pillows. Once again one hand at my cock and another at my throat.

Johnny had my hips in control, mercilessly thrusting them into the prison of my own hand. This wasn’t the same from the first two times, he was genuinely trying to make me feel utter misery mixed with pleasure that couldn’t be ignored.

My bed sheets ruined, cock glistening, and the smell of shame and sex filled the small apartment. Johnny having front row to the entire show ate it all up with no room to leave any leftovers. The legend loved every second of my sexed out misery.

What felt like an eternity of fucking into my hand my cock gave out once final pool of thick slick oozing out in strings onto the bed. My body shook, and my legs flexed before I fell onto the soft sheets. The bed bouncing a bit.

“Atta boy, now you’ll be stress free and all rested up for the big day tomorrow. You’re welcome, maybe next time I’ll have you fuck some fleshlight.”

“Jus’ shut up already Johnny…” I slurred out. My eyes already shut as I relaxed into the bed, my body still fuzzy and tingling from the overwhelming session I endured.

Although it wouldn’t hurt to try it again…

#m4m #male reader #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk johnny #johnny silverhand smut #johnny silverhand x male reader #johnny silverhand x reader #oneshot #mlm #x male reader

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splatoongamefiles · 2 months

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guy with tartar icon has entered the askbox. I think it's worth noting the sheer amount of shit that tartar went through I WILL PREFACE THIS BY SAYING THAT NOTHING MAKES ATTEMPTED OMNICIDE AND EUGENICS MORALLY RIGHT OR ACCEPTABLE ✋ the professor essentially hoisted emotion and the collective knowledge of humanity as a whole onto a machine that was then guaranteed to survive to watch everything and everyone it knew die out before being entirely isolated with no other signs of life for 10,000ish years (guesstimating how long it may have took for inkfish to begin developing, anyway) like no wonder it went totally postal. its particularly cosmically ironic knowing what we know now from alterna that inkfish's entire society and way of being was built off the dreams and crystalized memories of the last of humanity. boy what I wouldn't give to see tartar and orca interact. there's a lot of parallel between its motives and grizz's but we still didn't really get enough of his backstory to really get to know him as a character. here's hoping for more grizz lore in the splat3/sideorder equivalent of haikara walker though. i don't really have a thesis or point im trying to make here i just think all of the villains so far have been superb characters and will jump at any chance to share my countless hours over five years of loredigging and thinking about them

yeah if i had the entire internet beamed into my head i'd go insane too. let alone be stuck with that for 10k years.

also yeah, the "ironic because inkfish are also based on humans" actually fits into the english translation of tartars motivation better

In the original, tartar specifically talks about how inklings would fight pointless turf wars and other inkfish specific qualities and tartar reveres the humans and his goal is to bring them back

In the English translation, Tartar criticizes the inklings for basically the same bad shit humans did, and instead wishes to bring a new race into existence. I think the splatoon 3 lore fits this one better.

(paraphrased from this rassicas video)

#ask #stobotnik

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jccatstudios · 5 months

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I have been following your soc comic adaptation and it just so good!!! I love how you draw them!

I have just one question: Why did you not include Inej's opening musings about Kaz on the first page? (Kaz Brekker didn't need a reason etc) I actually really like how there is not text on the first two pages, it's really atmospheric and moody so this really is not a criticism, I don't want to insult you. I guess I was just wondering what the thought process behind that was?

Oh, I've been wanting to talk about this for a while! Buckle up, this is gonna be one of my long comic rants. (Also, no offense taken at all! Anyone's welcome to question my artistic choices and I'm always happy to take critique, even though that isn't your intention.)

So, the thing is I actually planned on including that first paragraph into the comic! Here's when I first shared the thumbnails on here. Just for the sake of this post, I'll insert them here too.

The boxes are meant to be where excerpts of that introduction would go. When I was creating the thumbnails, I was thinking about how iconic these lines were and how well they introduce the world and characters. I even finished the pages with the intention to include those lines. This is from my original csp file.

When I lettered it all out, I felt like something wasn't right...? Hard to explain. I wanted silence for the opening and the narration took that away. I then thought about the reader who'd go into this without reading the novel first, wondering if they'd be thinking, Who's this Kaz Brekker guy? Is it this character on the page? It's clearer in the book, but I didn't think it paired well with what I drew. I didn't want any confusion. It's also Inej's chapter, and while Kaz's parts take up most of it, I still wanted it to feel like her POV and her story. We can hold off officially meeting Kaz until page four.

But the main reason I took it out comes down to my philosophy when it comes to comic adaptations. I believe that an adaptation should use the original story in the best way for the secondary medium. A comic adaptation should play to the strength of comics, not the original source material.

Time and time again, I see a lot of comic adaptations of books try to use a book's strength instead of a comic's. When that happens, you get pages upon pages of narration boxes and exposition that could've easily been told in a single panel's image. If you want to read excerpts from the original novel, go do that! They're beautiful and well-crafted and you should be reading the original anyway! If you're making a comic adaptation, make a comic, not an illustrated version of the novel (that's a whole field of its own).

This whole thing really ties well into what I'm doing for Chapter 3. Kaz is such an internal character, his chapters have a lot more exposition that isn't setting description or character actions. I've had to do a lot more of my own writing for this chapter than the last just to turn that exposition into his own voice as an internal monologue. Sometimes, it's just a change from "he" to "I," but there are other times I've had to write new dialogue and find ways to naturally flow between thoughts. If I didn't do the work to adapt the expository text and instead just put in narration boxes of text from the book, there would be a greater disconnect between the reader and Kaz. Third-person limited works great in books and doesn't separate the readers from the story, but in comics, first-person internal dialogue keeps the readers inside the scene better.

If I were to redo Chapter 2, I think I would try to find a way to incorporate the information from the chapter intro better. I think by losing the intro I initially planned to include, I didn't establish certain ideas very well. Ketterdam and Kerch are established later on pages 4 and 5, but I don't think I ever go back and mention The Barrel. Also, the idea that Kaz is deliberate, even if his reputation says otherwise, is important too. I've made sure to fix this kind of issue in Chapter 3 and keep record of what kind of information I'm losing as I adapt it.

#comic rant over!#thanks for the ask I really love talking about this stuff #soc comic adaptation #asks #comics talk

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ladyluscinia · 5 months

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With all due respect, maybe people feel like they’re not allowed to post about Izzy because people have argued that sharing the opinion that Izzy was not acting benevolently in Ed’s best interests during season 1 is “spreading izzy anti rhetoric” and should not be allowed in the #Izzy Hands tag.

Look I'm way too lightheaded to answer this with my usual thoroughness, but this is a... 20 month? ...old red herring that has been clarified as such on more occasions than I can count so I'm sure I can find some examples.

So here's the short and sweet version. And here's the multiple, extensive attempts by predominantly poc bloggers to draw attention to and reduce the massive harassment campaign in this fandom with methods that did include asking people to not tag character hate.

Your hypothetical S1 meta was never the problem we were complaining about, though tbh people insisted on being absurd about those too. Yes if you put a meta in the #Izzy Hands tag then people who like Izzy are going to see it and might, gasp, respond because that's kind of what tags are for. Yes tagging negative meta as #Izzy Critical is basic politeness for fans to filter and a logically better organization system if you want people who are interested in your meta to find it and have a tag to hang out in without "the canyon" (which pre-S2 meant everyone who talked about Izzy positively / had the wrong Edward takes). This is the logic behind #OFMD Critical as well. No I cannot guarantee you will never receive a single annoying comment for posting in a public forum but you have got to be real about how big a deal that is before declaring that you are bravely risking harassment by posting a broadly popular and fairly lukewarm take about Izzy being a shithead. 🙄

Also since this is presumably coming off this... If you genuinely think "the canyon" (pre-S2 era or current near-dead state) is a boogeyman mob who hate every single aspect of OFMD except the loser antagonist who they have woobified beyond measure and think is the main character and right in all things, and will relentlessly attack anyone who dares to suggest otherwise... yes, I do think you're pretty stupid. 🤷‍♀️ Like that is a pretty stupid thing to believe if you have any knowledge whatsoever of "the canyon" and a pretty stupid thing to say out loud if you are just taking others' word for it.

Learn to be normal about people having different interpretations of a tv show

#our flag means death #izzy hands ofmd #ofmd harassment #ask #anon #ladyluscinia

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alicelufenia · 2 months

Text

So yeah had the chance to sleep on it and gonna give my full thoughts on the (unannounced) new dialogue for Minthara when Durge makes the decision to reject [SPOILER]. Gonna keep it under the cut but also read @shoddynomenclature's flashfic about it, it echos a lot of my feelings on the subject.

I think this had the potential to be something that makes her character even more nuanced and interesting by showing an uglier side of herself. Yes she has been abandoned by gods before, and the pain of that can't be understated. So seeing Durge reject Bhaal, to walk away from an inheritance when she was taken from Lolth against her will? Must feel frustrating. Seeing a character work through those emotions and fucking it up could be really good. COULD be.

This one conversation, where she throws everything about her relationship with Durge aside and turns her back on them with just a single non-critical response and no follow up? This ain't it.

I hate to say it, but this addition has all but killed my interest in playing Durge, if this is what it does to her character.

I'd LIKE it if there will be future additions, conversations you can have back at camp after the stress of the day has passed, to ask her what's really going on here. Yeah it WOULD be nice if there were some follow up where we can talk to her about our reasons for rejecting Bhaal, with the option to reconcile. Which could even lead neatly into her post-Orin speech, y'know some of her best writing in the game where she realize that Bhaal is no different than Lolth, or the Absolute.

Or, the chance to refuse to get back together with her after that. The only other way to break up with Minthara currently is cheating, which sucks, whereas having a big ugly argument and deciding "We've both said our peace, and understand each other better now, but we can't be together. Not after all this." THAT'S Really Good.

But unlike others, I have no confidence that any such addition is coming.

Because (if I understand it right) this dialogue was datamined from release, but was always inaccessible until the recent hotfix. So it was easy to ignore, treat it as cut content like the pregnancy plot (which I still don't get and frankly at this point I don't wanna know).

By deciding to make it accessible, Larian has made it clear that they want this to be a part of her character. But unlike this dialogue, there isn't any follow up sitting in datamine waiting to be turned on.

As far as we know, this is it. It's useless to speculate on what they could add (why add to her writing so piecemeal like this anyway?) because they didn't wait until they HAD more, to make this a part of her writing. Hell, it wasn't even worth mentioning in the hotfix notes!

Loving her partner to the degree she's willing to put aside her thirst for power is such a key part of Minthara's character that this dialogue completely abandons. What Larian is saying here is that her love for Durge was just a ruse to entice someone she could control into acquiring power, even at their expense. And if that's Larian's vision for Minthara's character, then why stop with Durge?

Why does she break up with Durge for rejecting Bhaal, but not with Shadowheart for rejecting Shar?

Or Astarion if he remains a spawn?

Why shed all those real tears for Karlach if she'd rather die than return to Avernus?

Why continue to share Tav's bed if they refuse the Astral Tadpole? Why offer no real objection if they destroy the brain, though she's rooting for them to take control of it right up until the moment? Why can she find power enough in the two of them with the Absolute gone to continue their plans for conquest, but Durge refusing to become just like Orin, her tormentor she swore to kill, is a dealbreaker?

If she tells my Tav the bond they share is called alurlssrin, can I even believe her, when she said the same to Durge only to call them stupid for believing in love right after?

Do you see the problem here?

Do you see why people would rather this dialogue not exist, if this is what it does to her character?

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lifewithdavefarts · 6 months

Text

DaveFarts - Episode 26 “Critical Stink” [Episode List] During a D&D session, Tim insists that he should be immune to poison damage. The gassy-as-usual Dave makes sure he’s gonna regret such request.

POV: Tim

Critical Stink

The evil Yuan-Ti general and his minions had us cornered: the humanoid snake turned out to be a bigger threat than our team expected. Radahm, our Rogue, managed to backstab one of the lesser enemies in front of us, who then bled to death mere minutes later. Ergg, the annoying wizard, quickly casted a defensive spell to protect us but the snake-like soldiers had weapons capable of undoing any form of magic (…something we never heard of before, in our years of adventures, but OK).

I, the brave Paladin Desal, was our team’s last hope: I could attack our formidable foes with my mighty holy sword, getting closer to the general himself, whose venomous bite was just as dreaded as the blade of his mighty scimitar. Yet, I decided to go for it, I had nothing to fear, for The High One has granted me poison immunity many moons ago. This is why The Fate brought us here… why She brought me here.

It was all leading up to this.

I rush with all of my might towards the snake general, who noticed my deft movement, his long neck dodging my sword at the last second. He hissed back at me, his mouth going for my arm.

I felt his teeth piercing through my white armor, but once again, I had nothing to fear, for The High One has granted me poison immun-

“What do you mean I’m losing HP?!”

Me (Desal), Greg (Ergg) and Adam (Radahm) were having one of our D&D sessions, which are getting rarer given how busy we are. Dave was our DM for this Quest and… we didn’t really like where this was going.

First, that whole bullshit with Yuan-Ti weapons undoing Greg’s magic (and magic in general apparently). Never heard of such thing nor we care, even though Dave found our shock quite delightful. And then -and this is more personal-, all of the sudden, my character stopped being immune to poison… because plot I guess!

“Dude!” I scolded Dave. “I thought we agreed on this like moo- I mean months ago.”

Adam and Greg backed me up, just because the wanted to dunk on Dave than anything else.

“Gentlemen.” our DM replied, in a mockingly formal tone. “…and Tim.” he turned to me and took a sip of his beer, then resumed talking. “What I told you back then was that The High One would grant Desal poison immunity in case you rolled a Nat 20 on a Defense Roll.”

I remained silent.

“And, I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t see a 20 anywhere on this table.”

The derisive sarcasm was just as annoying as it sounded, not even considering Dave being utterly wrong about this. If only I could find those papers where we actually took note of this…

“I’m with Tim on this one.” Greg said. “Also if he dies, our quest is basically over.”

“I guess we’re done then.” I said, referring more to the fact that Greg agreeing with me was basically a death sentence to any possibility of being right. “What about you, Adam?” I asked.

“Well, I got my share of EXP by backstabbing that snake guy, so I’m gonna try running away my next turn.” he snickered.

“Team of the year.” Dave commented, amused.

“Disgusting.” Greg remarked.

“Wow the the True Neutral Rogue doing True Neutral things I’m such a bad player.” Adam replied.

“Hey! This is not about Adam’s admirable commitment to role-playing.” I pointed to our DM. “This is about Dave making up the rules.”

“Here’s what I have to say about it.”

Dave, who was wearing a brown hoodie and a pair of dark blue jeans, simply leaned a bit, the wooden chair he was sitting on cracking under his weight. One of my friend’s deafening farts soon followed, the wooden surface making it even louder. Not the first one my bro ripped during our D&D session (we were all high on beer and junk food, so gas was expected), but definitely one of the louder ones. While he still casually does it, I’m pretty sure, considering that evil smirk, that this one time he simply ripped one to, well, startle me, as he knows very well how awkward I (still) get whenever Dave is so chill about my fart kink.

“I guess a storm is getting closer.” Greg commented, after the 5 seconds blast ended.

Dave quickly snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Good call. Let’s wrap it up.”

So our DM quickly made up that those Yuan-Tis that almost killed us are afraid of thunderstorms (ripping another thunder-fart to further prove his plot point) and thus they ran away, scared, leaving us there, licking our own wounds (almost literally, given Greg rolling a 4 when he attempted to heal us).

We survived, but that was pretty underwhelming.

“So Greg managed heal me, no more poison and shit like that.” I commented.

“I’m your DM: I decide if you get to survive tonight.” Dave reminded me, that annoying sarcastic smirk drawn on his face, fully aware of how annoying he was being.

But admittedly that’s part of the fun you know.

“Well that wasn’t fun at all guys, see you in about 6 months for our next session.” Adam said, as he got up and reached for his jacket. Greg did the same.

We had one last sip of beer together and then our friends left, leaving me and Dave alone at our place. It was late, about 1:00 AM, but also a Saturday.

As me and my bro/roommate tidied up the table we just finished playing on, he decided to keep making fun of my strategies.

“The first mistake was choosing the Paladin as your class, as I told you many moons ago.” he snickered.

“Says the Wizard enjoyer. Having fun casting shit from behind the trees?”

“Yes, because I don’t get poisoned from there. Also, I’m more of a Bard you know.”

“I shouldn’t get poisoned, you know it. But our DM got amnesia apparently.”

Dave laughed, rolling his eyes. “Nat 20 on Defense Roll.” he spoke slowly. “Such a difficult concept to grasp!”

We sat once again at the now clean table, opened two more beers and we kept talking.

“Look, I’m not saying that you don’t remember it. But yes, you don’t remember it.”

“I don’t remember it.” Dave insisted. “Because it never happened.”

“Literally the only thing my character is going for is poison immunity.” I stated, perhaps exaggerating, but you get my point.

“Wow immunity against the worst damage type. Congratulations, Desal! You’re a Paladin, start summoning light pillars or some other gay shit!”

“Dave, we agreed on it. I DESERVE to be immune to poison.” I insisted.

“Fine.” my friend took a quick sip of beer. “All kinds of poison?”

“Yes.” I said, satisfied.

“…even poison gas?” Dave said, a faint smirk appearing on his face.

“Well yes of course, especially pois- I know where this is going.” I glanced at him, unimpressed.

Indeed, Dave laughed and once again leaned, another loud blast erupting from his jeans-clad ass, the wooden chair under him enduring that powerful flatulence like a silent hero. 5 more seconds of farting and he was done.

“You g-gotta admit…” I said, bravely, almost shaking for how embarrassed I was. “That’s one type of poison I’m definitely immune to.” I joked, I tried to.

“Shut up.” Dave replied, chill as usual about my fetish. “You’re tough, I’ll give you that, but Tim…” he put his hand on my shoulder, being hilariously serious about all of this. “We’re talking about my farts: one of these days you’re gonna die because of me.”

He finished that short speech by effortlessly ripping one more quick 2 seconds rip, faking a sad expression, as if I truly was risking my life. I managed to laugh, my boner however almost hitting the table for how good those farts were, a faint smell reaching my nostrils as well.

“Come on. Let me have this at least. Poison immunity in real life!” I kept joking.

Dave looked at me, with a smirk, then turned his attention to a D20 dice we left on the table and reached for it.

“You know…” he started talking in a tone of voice that made me think this whole thing turned into a business deal for some reason. “I can grant you your precious poison immunity… if you pass the test…”.

He was fiddling with the dice, now looking back at me.

“Let me guess: another rule you just made up.” I said.

“Not at all! I forced you through this test so many times lately… but tonight I decide if you actually passed it.” he laughed.

I had no idea what he was talking about. Or rather, pretended not to.

“I don’t understand. Are you planning some kind of challenge?”

“Sort of. I’ll just show you how it’s going to work.”

He passed the dice to me and I just stared at it for a few seconds.

“Roll the dice, Tim.” he said, with a smirk.

I played along and mindlessly let the dice fall on the table. It rolled for a few instants and then I read the number facing up out loud. “Meh, that’s a 4. I’m just like Greg.”

In response to what I just said, Dave snapped his finger to gain my attention. As I turned to him, he leaned once again and a thunderous fart echoed in the empty living room, easily surpassing the sounds coming from the TV across the room, the wooden surface of the chair he was destroying with his gas greatly increasing the loudness of the already powerful rip.

The blast lasted around 5 seconds and… that wasn’t rocket science, I knew where this was going now. I was speechless, I had no idea Dave would even think something like this.

“No.” I simply said, shaking my head, embarrassed.

I stood up, leaving the dice on the table, ignoring the fact that my friend could clearly see the tent I pitched through my blue sweatpants and walked towards the couch, as I kept repeating “No”, each time my bro laughing more and more.

“Scared, Desal?” he promptly asked.

“No!” I took a big breath, turning back to my bud still sitting at the head of the table, his eyes glued on me, his smug smirk still drawn on his face. “It’s just… come on man… I don’t want to… of course I…”

Dave stood up and walked towards me, without losing that smile, now looking a bit more chill. “You know you don’t have to worry about this, not with me, right?” he simply asked, and I knew exactly what he meant.

“Alright…” I said. “I’ll do your dumb test.”

He laughed. “This also counts as me getting my revenge for, you know, you doubting my DM skills.”

I figured I’d just give up: Dave was gonna blast me either way, and I deeply appreciated how he wanted to make sure that no, I had nothing to worry about, he knows I have this kink, he knows I was gonna like this… but that wasn’t going to stop him from torturing me with his well-known blasts. A “revenge”, as he calls it.

Truth to be told, as much as my boner tells you other wise… I do have my limits, and my friend’s farts sounded very nasty tonight, fueled by hours of beers and low-quality food. What made it so dangerous (and hot) is that Dave is well aware of his skills, so he knew that this was indeed going to be a test.

My bro sat on the couch and nodded at me, as if what was going to happen was completely normal, so I sat next to him.

“So… roll for initiative?” he joked, handing the dice back to me.

“I hate you so much.” I replied. Dave just never ceases to amaze me though.

I let the dice roll on the small table in front of us, as Dave took a sip of his beer. We both watched it bounce around for a few moments, until it stopped, a big 7 facing up.

The fart I heard when I rolled a 4 was already impressive so… how is a 7 going to sound like? My roommate seemed to read my mind since he elbowed me, smug smile and all.

I clumsily tried to ask how, well, he was going to face-fart me this time. “What do you want me to… you k-know.”

Dave simply put the beer on the table, right next to the dice and, still silent, simply stood up, towering over me, my face already aligned with his sagging denim ass. He stepped in front of me and reached for my head, planting it on that warm ass, still stinky for all the previous farts he ripped, a faint scent of rotten pizza greeting my nose. He held my face there for a few seconds, in silence, as if he wanted me to, well, enjoy that the leftovers of his previous rips.

But now, finally, the test has officially begun: a big fart engulfed my face, my friend barely needing to push it out, ripping that blast almost effortlessly. He firmly held my head in there, as if I was going to move it away, which obviously wasn’t going to happen.

And yet, Dave keeping my face into his roaring butt, letting me take big whiffs, was always a great bonus: whether he did that because he knew my kinky ass would like it or not… I just didn’t know, but I was ok with it nonetheless… as long as he was okay with me.

He raised his left leg a bit, letting his ass roar even louder.

The impressive flatulence lasted 9 seconds: just beautiful, but I knew this wasn’t the worst (best?) my bud was going to hit me with tonight.

Dave let my head go, turned around to stare down at me, and laughed a bit. He then sat back next to me, as if nothing gross and weird happened.

“This is how you get poison gas immunity: you gotta train those nostrils first.”

“I hate you so much.” I repeated myself, as I took a sip of his beer.

He patted my shoulder in response. “No worries, your training will resume soon.”

I reached for that cursed D20 once again and fiddled with it a bit, before going for another roll.

“How long is this test going to last?” I genuinely asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

“We’ll see.” he winked at me, while looking at something on his smartphone.

Still deciding on whether I was or not the luckiest man in the world because I have a friend like him, I went for another roll, the D20 once again bouncing on the small table in front of us. Admittedly, I sighed in relief when I saw a 2.

“Remind me to never take you to Las Vegas…” Dave commented.

Since it was 2, my bro simply spread his long legs, showing off his sagging jeans in the process, and ripped a short (but still loud, despite being muffled by the couch) toot. Small for Dave’s standards, not even 4 seconds long, but still a nice sounding fart overall.

Not that I wasn’t aware of his skills, but the fact that those were all natural, back-to-back, was almost fascinating to me. Fetish or not, I wish I had such powers.

“Still pretty impressive for a 2, I gotta say.” I said, getting more comfortable with openly acknowledging Dave’s talent.

My roommate chuckled in response. “Such a kinky bitch.” he joked.

As my way to challenge him after that ridiculous fart, I quickly went for another roll. The dice spun for a moment until it revealed the number at the top spot, which immediately made me swallow my pride: a 16.

“Looks like you’re gonna get your ass kicked, Paladin.”

“You better shut up or I’m gonna kick yours.”

“With what? Your nose?”

As Dave (rightfully) made fun of me, he stood up once again, this time on the couch, towering over me even more than before (he had no shoes anymore, only a pair of sweaty socks).

“Just… just do it.” I simply said, horny, my heart racing fast.

Amused, my friend managed to directly sit on my head, as if I was a stool.

“You really want me to k-kill me?”

“I’m your FM: I decide if you get to survive tonight.”

I remained silent. “FM…?”

“FM dude.” Dave kept talking, still sitting on me, as if this was such a natural way to talk to each other. “FM!”

“I don’t get it.”

“Too much blood rushing down your cock, fine.” he said, knowing exactly how true that statement was. “I’ll give you a hint then.”

Treating me like the wooden chair he soiled with his gas, Dave leaned a bit, as he pushed the next rip out… but after a few seconds nothing came out.

“I’m brewing a big one, give me a moment.”

And we just remained there, silent, the stench of his ass almost forming a fog around me, the rough surface of his sagging jeans brushing through my hair. I heard Dave laughing, fully aware how weird that scene must have looked.

“Alright, here it comes for real. Ready?”

He didn’t even wait for an answer as an earthquake shook my skull, making my body shake down to my knees. The vibration literally made some drops of pre-cum leak out of my penis, further proof of my friend’s incredible powers. The fart, needless to say, was so loud it almost made me deaf: I wasn’t made of wood, but the sound of Dave’s blast bounced off the top of my head quite nicely, sounding like a loud, low-pitched chainsaw.

21 seconds. 21 fucking seconds. All natural, all as disgusting as it sounds. I didn’t even need to sniff as I was probably trapped in an invisible bubble of gas.

Finally, after wiggling his ass a bit so my hair would completely absorb that fart, Dave stood up, ripping a couple of small toots while doing so, and sat back where he was. He looked at me with a smirk, but couldn’t help but laugh noticing me startled facial expression.

I’ll just never get used to this.

“FM… Fart Master… Fuck you.” I said, shaking my head.

“If it's any consolation… you almost earned that immunity you wished for.”

This is all just a dumb kinky game for him. I couldn’t be happier, but also holy shit, the thin line between kink and torture was getting blurry with a friend like him.

“Just say that I earned it. It’s late, we’re both tired.” I tried to end this, not that I wasn’t enjoying it but come on, I couldn’t force my straight bud to do, well, this, even though it was his idea to begin with.

“Fine. One last roll.” he agreed.

I shook the dice in my fist for a few seconds before finally letting it fall one last time on the table. It bounced a couple of times, I could feel the tension rising.

And finally…

No.

No fucking way.

There’s no way this wasn’t scripted somehow.

“Uhhh… Dave?” I dared to turn to him. He was already laughing.

A Nat 20, a fucking Nat 20, something that I always crave during our D&D sessions, but this fucking dice decided that a FART session was more important apparently.

“That’s gonna be a critical hit, Tim.” Dave stated, standing up again.

“No way you got that much gas already.” I bravely said.

My friend laughed again, that usual smirk drawn on his face.

“I’m just gonna blast you on command for a bit.”

The fact that he said that sentence so naturally made me leak a bit more.

“uhhh… thanks?” I said, my brain now completely devoid of any blood.

“Yeah sure, just lie down so I can put an end to this test.” I obeyed. “And also to your face, obviously.” he added, pointing down at me.

Once again, as if it was something completely mundane, Dave waited for me to lie down, so he could simply sit directly on my face, treating my head as part of the couch. Then, he just sat down on me as he said, the sagging jeans-clad asscheeks basically devouring my face. I couldn’t see anything but some details of the seams and textures of my friend’s jeans; at the same time, I felt the warmness, the stench, the sweat, all at once. I was used to my bro blasting me up close and personal, but this time it felt particularly overwhelming.

He wasn’t crushing me (I’m sure he was doing his best not to), but that doesn’t mean that I couldn’t feel most of his weight all over my face. As his ass was resting on my nose, he put one leg on the table in front of the couch and leaned a bit, so he could ease some gas out… or rather in.

As promised, Dave was gonna fart-face me on command for the critical hit. He masterfully sucked some air in, showing off his skills smoothly. I knew this was gonna be a fucking fart concert. I was both horny and scared, because my bro is indeed the Fart Master, as he bragged earlier.

His ass stopped making noises, a sign that what came in was going to be blasted out soon.

“I mean… all of this to earn something you had all along. What a thirsty bitch.”

I heard Dave say, playfully mockin- wait what? All along? But I didn’t have time to say anything back because of the loud fart that pierced through my eyes and ears. It sounded a bit more “airy” than his previous ones, given that it was on command, but oddly enough it’s like there was a mix of natural gas in there as well: the stench of spoiled beer definitely helped prove it.

The fart lasted 11 seconds, way “shorter” than the previous ones, but as I said, this was gonna be a concert, so as soon as the first blast ended, Dave started sucked air in again, faster than before, as another ass-thunder quickly went down my throat, loud and proud as my friend does them.

Basically, this concert was gonna be one long ass fart with many interruptions.

This one was more of a series of 7 loud long rips ripped back-to-back, lasting about 3 seconds each. It was insane: it was like somebody was shooting at my face point blank with a fucking shotgun.

At this point I started to wonder whether Dave knew I was still there, as he kept ripping farts as if there wasn’t anyone lying under his ass.

Now he was sitting full-weight on me, almost making me fuse with the couch. He spread his legs wide again, as much as his sagging jeans allowed him to, so he could easily release an impressive, meaty, loud, almost wet rip all over that sweaty mess that used to be my face. Now that’s definitely a mix of natural and on-command, and the fact it was slightly wet only made the smell burn my nostrils even more.

This one fart didn’t want to end instead, my bro’s ass roared all over my face like one of those beasts we fought earlier during our D&D session. A display of cocky, disgusting manliness I’ll never get used to, given how skilled Dave is.

Finally, after around 20 seconds, his ass went silent again. I heard Dave whistle in relief.

“You ok down there bro?” I managed to heard him say. So he does know I’m still here!

He got up just a bit, his ass hovering (or rather, looming) over me, just enough to let me slip out of that gas chamber. I sat back to my place as he let his ass sit on the couch again, this time without having me under it. I managed to give a quick look at my friend, who had this silly smile on his face. He was visibly disgusted, but also oddly amused.

“Than-“ but he cut me off.

“You know, you totally earned your poison immunity bro.” he paused for a few seconds. “I mean… that’s what I’d say if you didn’t already have one all along.”

Oh, right. “What the fuck does that mean…?” I asked, sounding a bit more rude than I wanted to.

Dave laughed. “I actually found our conversation from months ago.” he showed his phone to me. “This is the part where we agreed on your immunity, but I forgot.” He chuckled.

I skimmed through the messages and, indeed, I was right.

“You sick bastard.” I sneered at him.

He found it hilarious. I found it… well, I too thought that it was hilariously hot as fuck, but I had to fulfil my role of being a pain in the ass.

“So you just wanted to torture me.”

“Not at first.” he admitted. “Then again, it’s not like I need an excuse to blast you, right?” he then said, winking at me. “Plus, I’m a Bard, I can make music with everything.” he then added, patting his ass.

I just didn’t know what to say, so I did what every mighty Paladin would have done: I simply stood up, not caring about my very visible, damp, huge boner, and went beating my meat in the bathroom upstairs.

Honestly, if Dave took his role of DM as seriously as his role of being my FM, our D&D sessions would go much more smoothly.

The End

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

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its-jaytothemee · 2 months

Text

A Burden Shared - Part I: The Fight (1/2)

Pairings: Astarion x Tav, Halsin x Tav, Astarion x Tav x Halsin

Word count: 2,645; Tav and Astarion POVs

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Read on AO3

Summary: A group sparring session turns sour, and Astarion becomes very protective of Tav. Halsin goes to comfort Tav afterwards and ends up confessing some feelings he's had for a while now.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Feelings Confessions, Spoilers for Act 3, Sparring, Protective Astarion, Soft Halsin, Tav needs a fucking hug.

Author's Note: The tadfools get a filler episode. No explicit material yet, but will be present in a later chapter. Part 1 is finished, hopefully part 2 can be uploaded sometime in the next week or so. Will switch between a few character POVs, for now I only have Tav and Astarion. Enjoy! :)

The city was in far worse shape than Tav could have imagined. They arrived in Rivington to find the town overflowing with refugees, learned of Gortash’s impending coronation, and learned that Duke Belynne Stelmane had been murdered. They also found out that Orin was a shapeshifter, capable of taking on the appearance of anyone she wished. Doppelgangers had infiltrated Jaheira’s squad of Harpers, and to add salt to their wounds, Raphael was lurking around Wyrm’s Crossing trying to tempt them into a deal for the Orphic Hammer. They had arrived at the city gates a day and a half ago, and still had no suitable way to get into the lower city.

At the Emperor’s insistence, they all headed to camp early even though it was barely midday. Given the state of the city, they realized that they needed time to re-evaluate their plan of attack. Tav was still unsure of how much trust they could place in the Emperor, but she could feel it mirroring her own anxiety around their surroundings. They trudged back through the muddy roads of Rivington, making their way to their camp on the outskirts of town. An ethereal voice glided into their thoughts.

“I need time to reconsider our approach. Stelmane’s death does not…bode well. Take the time to rest, it is hard to tell when you will be afforded another opportunity to do so.” The Emperor’s voice disappeared from their minds as quickly as it came.

“So, what now? We just go lounge around at camp? Drink wine and not kill anything?” Astarion asked with his typical melodramatic flair.

“We could go back to the circus!” Karlach yelled, running up and throwing an arm around Tav’s shoulders.

“I am not taking any chances of running into more murderous clowns, Karlach.” Astarion shot back, jumping to the other side of Tav and looping his arm through hers.

“I never even got to get my face painted.” Karlach pouted.

“Chk.” Lae’zel was trailing behind the three of them, a sour look on her face “We waste time ‘resting’ when we have no wounds that need healing and our minds are still sharp. We should press on into the city.” She had been particularly critical of Tav lately, their time in the Astral Prism didn’t help with that.

“Easy Lae’zel,” Jaheira chimed in, “if we try to force our way into the city right now, we could attract the wrong kind of attention. I recommend caution.”

“Let’s just head back to camp. We should catch the others up on what we’ve found, and I don’t think we’ll be getting into the lower city right now with Gortash’s coronation so close.” Tav decided.

She was still unsure why they all looked to her for these types of decisions. Ever since they crashed on that beach, she was assumed to be the default leader. Tav had been doing her best to keep this unlikely group of companions together. It helped that they were all really quite fond of one another now. Only a few real fights had broken out amongst their ranks, most of them stemming from varying states of exhaustion and were fixed by a good night’s sleep. With each new ally they recruited, her imaginary authority grew. Even with the addition of Halsin and Jaheira, two wise leaders experienced years beyond Tav, they still looked to her for guidance. To make things worse, it wasn’t even just her camp of companions that was looking up to her. So many of those they had met on their journey here talked about how she was the hero who would save Baldur’s Gate, the hero who would save them all.

But now they had finally reached their destination. Home. Tav was trying to maintain her composure, but she was starting to panic. This was a big city, and they had ticking time bombs in their heads threatening them more and more each day. If they didn’t find out how to take out Orin and Gortash, she doubted the small artefact she carried would still be enough to protect them when an elder brain was unleashed onto the city.

Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, trying to piece together any plan that could get them closer to getting these tadpoles out of their heads. She had some old friends in the City Watch, maybe they could tell her if anything strange had been happening. But there was always a chance that they were loyal to the Absolute as well. She had a contact in the Thieves Guild but would prefer to use them as a last resort only.

“Tav? Tav?”

Astarion’s voice startled her out of her thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?” She shook her head slightly, trying to bring herself back to the present.

“Just making sure you were still there, darling. You seem…distracted lately.” He smiled softly at her.

“Ah, just the fatigue of a hero. I guess.” She joked, trying to keep the mood light. If they needed her to be a leader, she didn’t want to burden anyone with her worries.

“Now you see why I prefer skulking in the shadows over basking in the spotlight.” He still had his arm looped around hers.

“Well, it’s not like you had much of a choice between shadows and light before, my love.” She teased, leaning into him.

Astarion was about to make a quip in response when they were spotted by Gale at the edge of their new camp.

“You’re all back rather early, that’s not usually a good sign.” Gale’s chipper voice called to them.

“We ran into some unexpected complications.” Tav replied. “We may need a new plan for getting into the city. Wyrm’s Crossing is crawling with Flaming Fist loyal to Gortash. Not to mention all of the murders and the fact that the cult of Bhaal has apparently recruited every shapeshifter in the godsdamned realms.” Her frustration was creeping into her tone. When she looked around, everyone was looking at her again. She let out a small sigh.

“Let’s get everyone gathered, see what we can come up with.”

As everyone gathered in the middle of the camp, Tav debriefed the rest of the group on what they saw in Rivington and Wyrm’s Crossing. Jaheira detailed the encounter at the Harper safehouse, also telling everyone about her search for Minsc of Rashemar. They discussed the multiple murders that included Duke Stelmane. The topic of Raphael was a short one, as pretty much everyone agreed that they should have no dealings with the devil. Finally, Orin was the point of discussion. Bhaal’s bloodthirsty chosen had already proven to be a complication. She could change shape in the blink of an eye, which meant she could be anywhere. Tav tried to listen as everyone talked around her and over each other. She rubbed her heavy eyes, trying to convince the headache she felt coming on to stay away.

“So then, what’s our next step?” Wyll’s voice piped up as everyone finally started to quiet down.

When Tav looked up, she realized all eyes were on her again. She looked around the camp at the tired faces, all waiting for her to tell them what to do. And she had absolutely no idea what that was.

“We uh,” She started, trying to search through the fog clouding her brain, “we need to find a way into the lower city first and foremost. Maybe we can con our way into Gortash’s coronation.”

“What good will it do us to attend a ceremony that is so obviously a farce?” Lae’zel’s commanding voice countered. “We don’t have time to play the political games of your realm. We must press forward into the city as soon as possible.” Her yellow eyes were fixed on Tav.

“The Emperor needs time to figure out how we can get the other two Netherstones. If we just – ” Tav was cut off by Lae’zel.

“I will not wait around to be given orders by a ghaik.” Her tone told Tav that this was not a topic she was willing to discuss.

“What would you have us do Lae’zel? Fight our way through the entire city?” She could hear the exhaustion seeping into her voice. “You saw one of those Steel Watchers, the city is supposedly crawling with them. We’d be lucky if we made it to the Elfsong Tavern."

“Tav is right.” Jaheira spoke up next. “We need to find our way into the city…quietly.” She looked at Lae’zel.

“Chk” Is the only sound they heard in response.

“Why don’t we all just take a rest today?” Tav suggested. “Gods know it’s been long enough since we’ve had more than an hour to relax.”

There were some mumbled sounds of approval, and everyone sort of shuffled off towards different areas of camp. With her small crowd dispersing, Tav finally felt like she could breathe.

“You should take your own advice.” A deep voice called from behind her.

Tav looked over her shoulder to see Halsin leaning against a barrel. She smiled weakly and walked over to him.

“That’s funny, I could have sworn I told you the same thing all those nights ago after the goblin camp.” She teased. He smiled at that, causing her heart rate to pick up a bit.

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid my mind was still rather clouded back then.” He looked back out over the camp. “You’re exhausted, Tav. I see the fatigue in your eyes, I hear the strain in your voice.” His voice was much softer now.

“I don’t have much of a choice, Halsin. Everyone here is looking to me for answers. Answers that I just don’t have.” She was once again aware of the headache trying to force its way into her eyes.

“Here, I have something for you.” He held out a small potion vial. “This will help keep those headaches away.”

She took the vial and immediately downed the whole thing. It had a very strong herbal flavor, the initial bitter notes faded into a sweet aftertaste. She could already feel the small ache starting to fade causing her to let out a sigh of relief.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him.

“Anytime.” He said with a nod of his head. Before he turned to leave, he gave her one last lingering look, causing her to blush slightly.

Tav watched him walk away, the soft breeze was blowing his hair around his ears. She admired the shape of his arms, suddenly finding herself wondering what it would feel like to be caught between them. Her eyes continued to wander further down his body, taking in the shape of his hips and thighs. Another thought took over her mind as she imagined digging her hands into his thighs, slowly making their way back to his backside, how it would feel to be pressed against his–

She felt her face redden at the thought and snapped herself out of her fantasy. A huge wave of guilt crashed into her as her eyes landed on Astarion. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little…pent up since their time around Moonrise. For the most part, it didn’t bother her much, just in moments like this when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed. Regardless, it was worth the frustration if it made him feel comfortable. She had noticed such a change in him over the last tenday or so. He seemed so much more relaxed than when she first met him, actually taking the time to rest at night rather than prowling around the camp. His nightmares seemed to be fewer and further in between. Her desires were nothing compared to watching him peacefully enter a trance while laying in her arms each night.

He caught her staring and flashed his devious little grin at her, not helping her contain herself. All she was able to manage in return was a tired smile. She walked over to him and slowly slid her arms around his waist, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Hello, darling. What was that for?” He hugged her to his side.

“Do I need a reason?” She responded, trying to hide the shame still swirling around inside of her.

She stood there holding him for a few moments, listening to his soft breathing.

“Are you…alright?” He asked her, concern apparent in his voice.

“Of course.” She lied. “Seeing the city in this state is just…overwhelming.” She looked up at him and tried to flash a reassuring smile.

He eyed her in return, obviously suspicious.

“I’m fine, love. Really.” She was trying to convince herself as she said the words.

“I…I want to be here for you, my dear. Like you have been for me.” His voice softened.

“I know…” She whispered back. “And you have been.” She was telling the truth. Just having Astarion around her did make her feel better. She just couldn’t bring herself to admit to him that she was struggling. And she definitely didn’t want him to know about her…other frustrations. He was just starting to open up and trust her, she couldn’t bear the thought of him pushing himself too far on her behalf.

“Hey! Lovebirds!” Karlach yelled at them. “Those weapons looks like they could use a good sharpening.” She was holding her own weapon over her head to show them.

Tav let go of Astarion’s waist and picked up her sword.

“Come on, let’s at least take a chance to fix up some of our gear.” She helped Astarion gather up some other weapons and brought them over by the rest of their group.

***

Astarion had come to enjoy the smell of the oils they used to condition their armor. The sound of scraping whetstones filled the air around them, an oddly comforting sound now. Everyone in camp was sitting in a circle of sorts, tending to their weapons and other equipment. Tav was sitting next to him, cleaning dried blood and Gods know what else off of her large sword. Astarion knew something had Tav feeling down, but she wouldn’t way what it was. He didn’t want to push her, he knew that she would talk to him when she was ready. But he wanted to at least try to cheer her up a little bit. Give her a small confidence boost, maybe.

“Tell me, darling,” Astarion started, taking on a flirty tone, “are you really proficient with any type of weapon?”

“Ewww. Keep it in your pants, Fangs.” Karlach called from the other side of the circle.

Tav laughed in response. “Maybe not any weapon. I definitely favor my greatswords and greataxes, but I suppose I can make do with just about anything. My instructor was adamant that a true fighter shouldn’t rely on only one skill. You never know when you’ll be disarmed in a fight.” She shot a teasing look back at him.

“Ugh, it was one time. Honestly Tav, you act as if no one has ever made you drop a weapon.” He had his hand on his chest, feigning offense.

“Hard to disarm me when they’re knocked to the ground.” She smirked.

“Feeling cocky today, are we?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a playful grin. “Maybe the others would be interested in a little sparring session then?” She was still smiling back at him, but before she could respond, Karlach leaped from her seat.

“Fuck yeah!” She yelled. The others joined in, already starting to argue about who would go first.

“Let’s see if you can hold on to your weapons against us, darling.” He looked back to Tav and winked. He knew it was unlikely anyone in this camp could actually beat her in a one on one fight. Surely an afternoon of showing off her combat prowess would lift her spirits a little bit.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 astarion #bg3 halsin #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #halsin x tav #astarion x halsin x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 headcanons #astarion fanfic #bg3 brainrot #the tadfools

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cryoculus · 1 year

Text

— people pleaser ⟢

pairing: thoma x ex-assassin!reader

summary: it’s been three weeks since you left for yashiori island, and saying that thoma was stoked to have you back was an understatement. but as the days passed, he noticed something quite...distressing.

word count: 5.7k words

notable characters: thoma, kamisato ayaka, kamisato ayato, gorou, yae miko

tags: jealousy, misunderstandings, light angst, suggestive themes

notes: this is a guard dog side story that was written for thoma's birthday back in january 2022!

masterlist

“Miss Kira!”

Naturally, Thoma was the first to greet you by the gates once you and Ayato finally made it back. He took it upon himself to take the bag you brought off your hands, beaming at you like a puppy who just met its owner after being gone all day. Well, in hindsight, that’s not too far-off an analogy.

You shot him a tired smile, lacing your arms around his neck to peck him on the cheek. “Hey, pretty boy. Did you miss me?”

“You bet,” he replied with a chuckle before pulling away to turn to Ayato. “I’m glad to see you’re well, too, my lord. Any progress with the investigation?”

The Yashiro Commissioner heaved a long-winded sigh, handing his own luggage to the other guards. “Barely. Locating the wards was quite tricky. We had Doctor Shinya with us, too. He’s a learned gentleman from the Sumeru Academia, so if he can’t locate them even with the guidance of our Yashiori native, Miss Kira, then it’s best if we went back to the drawing board.”

Thoma nodded in understanding. “I see. No wonder you got back so early. But is it really alright to leave the Tatarigami unattended?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you insisted, patting him on the shoulder. “‘Yato over here made good on the diplomatic interventions you and milady have been overseeing in his stead. He talked some former resistance soldiers into keeping an eye out for the situation. So it’s all good.”

…Alright, Thoma was more than glad to hear that Ayaka’s efforts to restore Narukami’s relationship with the Sangonomiya faction have borne fruit. But did you just call the head of the Kamisato House ‘Yato?

Ayato didn’t seem fazed by this, though—chuckling as you all headed inside. “It’s as the lady says. Sangonomiya Kokomi has agreed to cooperate with the ongoing investigation, since the Tatarigami also poses a threat to the safety of her own citizens.”

You snorted. “We nearly got kicked out of Sangonomiya Shrine when you criticized the way they prepared their sashimi, though. I know you’re a big shot and all, but you should seriously keep things to yourself sometimes.”

“I did no such thing. I simply suggested that it would be better if they served them fresh!”

“That’s not how the shrine maidens saw it…”

Thoma was no stranger to conversations that had nothing to do with him, and thus couldn’t relate to. It’s a staple for a chief retainer to stand on the sidelines and simply let his charge do all the talking. But the…familiar way in which you addressed Ayato was something entirely new to him. He didn’t think you’d ever spoken to someone else in the estate (someone that wasn’t Thoma, at least) in the same, animated manner you conversed with the Commissioner. Despite being officially hailed as a retainer of the house, you still had your reservations for the people that got close to you.

He used to pride himself for being one of the select few you’d fully put your faith in, but…

“Now that you mentioned it, I did come off as too forward for someone that’s already asking for a favor,” Ayato sighed. “This is why I let Ayaka handle all the formalities instead. Let’s send them an…apology package, shall we?”

“Sure. I’ll help you pick some stuff out in the city after I get a good night’s sleep,” you said. “Gods know it wasn’t exactly comfortable sharing a tent with you of all people.”

The moment the words left your lips, Thoma felt his brain short-circuit and jumpstart back into motion right after. You and Ayato shared a tent. For three weeks. His girlfriend slept in the same, close proximity as his lord. And they were acting completely casual about it!

This is probably just nothing, he assured himself—albeit poorly. Right…?

Thoma took all of that in stride. Of course he did. He’s Thoma—the level-headed, even-tempered housekeeper of the Kamisato House! It’s in his job description to take things in stride. So when he decided to tail you and Ayato to your impromptu shopping trip to Inazuma City the next day, his actions didn’t bear any ill will at all!

He was as discreet as a Mondstadter could be smack in the middle of Inazuma. Making himself scarce was something that Thoma has had trouble with for the longest time. Everything about him screamed outlander no matter how much he tried to dress himself up as a local. But you and Ayato didn’t seem privy to his advances—sampling dishes from Kiminami Restaurant without a care in the world.

You weren’t really up to anything suspicious so far. But the fact that Ayato insisted that you two go out without any guards was already worth looking into. It didn’t help that you hadn’t spoken a word about this before heading to bed either.

To Thoma’s relief, you still opted to sleep in his room last night like you always did before. The feel of you snuggling against his body underneath the sheets was a feeling he missed so much, he could almost cry. So even if he wanted to break the ice by asking how you and Ayato had suddenly grown closer, the chief retainer couldn’t stand the idea of ruining the cozy atmosphere that he hasn’t felt in weeks. Besides, he might just be reading into it too much. Thoma does that a lot these days.

“Hm? Thoma? Is that you?”

He nearly jumped out of the bush he was hiding in at the sound of another voice, hiding the binoculars (that he definitely didn’t steal from your drawer) from view. However, when Thoma saw who exactly caught him stalking you from such a high vantage point like a psychopath, he could only crane his head in confusion.

“General Gorou?” he half-asked, half-greeted. “What brings you here?”

“Um,” he began awkwardly, ears perking up. “This is my hiding spot, too, so…”

Thoma didn’t even know where to begin asking about the general’s predicament, but he decided not to press the matter. This wasn’t the first time he’s spoken to Gorou—given the peace talks he was mandated to attend by Ayaka’s side. But this was definitely the first he’s seen him loitering around the city.

“Who are you…?” Gorou squinted from the cliff’s edge where Thoma decided to conduct his stakeout, following it up with a quick— “Oh.”

“...Don’t tell me you see them from all the way up here.”

“Don’t tell me you’re performing an espionage mission on your own charge!”

Oh, right. Of course Gorou would focus on Ayato; not you.

“I’m not,” he explained. “I’m just…”

For a moment, Thoma considered unloading the troubles he’s been harboring since yesterday onto this not-so stranger. Gorou wasn’t someone who he saw on the regular, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to confide his girl-problems in the guy? Besides, from his contributions to the peace talks alone, Thoma could tell he was someone who gave top-tier advice.

But before he could even speak a word, Gorou suddenly froze up—body reflexively easing into a defensive stance. “Tch… My apologies, but I’ll have to make an abrupt leave or else she’ll catch me.”

“...She?”

The general immediately bolted away from the shrubs, scampering back to the streets of Inazuma City and leaving Thoma more clueless than he was to begin with.

When Thoma glanced back at Kiminami Restaurant through the binoculars, he realized that you and Ayato had already left in the midst of his chance meeting with Gorou. Great. Now he had no one to stake out for.

“You there.”

Thoma jolted in surprise once again—immediately assuming that an officer from the Tenryou Commission was probably going to scold him for going over the fences. But when he whirled around, it wasn’t a bulky soldier that greeted his sight, but rather a familiar shrine maiden with a cunning air to her.

“Have you seen a little fox boy running around?” Yae Miko asked with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We have a deadline coming up soon, and he just keeps slipping right underneath my nose. What a pain, that one.”

“Uhh…” Something told him Gorou was going to be very happy if Thoma did him a solid right here, right now. “Nope. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lady Guuji.”

She sighed, crossing her arms with a resigned look. “Well, frankly, I can’t be bothered to chase after him now. How about you entertain me instead, Kamisato retainer?”

It took him a moment to realize that Yae Miko actually remembered who he was, and Thoma swallowed the lump in his throat before hopping back over the fence—leaving the binoculars hidden in the shrubs to retrieve later.

“How may I be of service?” he asked nervously.

Yae Miko gave him a single look that was enough to make any lesser man cower. It’s a good thing he regularly accompanied Ayaka to her meetings with the priestess at the shrine. Else, Thoma might’ve grovelled at her feet from the pressure of her gaze alone.

“Give me your palm, would you?” she requested softly.

Thoma blinked. “Pardon?”

“Your palm, boy. I’d like to read it.”

He still didn’t fully understand what she was trying to make him do, but Thoma unfastened the harnesses on his right glove—flexing his fingers a bit before extending it to Yae Miko. The priestess took his hand in her much softer ones, and while the other men from the Yashiro Commission preferred women who were soft to the touch, he’d developed a fondness for your calloused palms. The same hands that he held in his own during colder nights or a simple stroll around Ritou. The same hands he wouldn’t mind holding for the rest of his life.

Wait. Why was he thinking about you when—

“You’re a fire elemental,” Yae Miko murmured, tracing the lines on his palm firmly. “That explains the Pyro Vision, yes. Hmm… Good vitality, strong mental constitution, relatively stable, and… Oh?”

Thoma felt his stomach drop. He did not like the sound of that.

“I-Is anything wrong, Lady Guuji?” he asked dryly.

The priestess continued running her finger along his palms, as if tracing a poem out of his skin. She had a hint of a smile playing on her lips, but Thoma knew better than to deduce a kitsune’s intentions from their facial expressions alone.

“Your other lines are in order, but your heart line… Quite shallow,” Yae Miko sighed, shaking her head. “This means you’re more sensitive and vulnerable than the rest. For someone who’s stood by Kamisato Ayaka’s side all this time, this is quite the surprise. You’ve always come off as a level-headed person to me, but I suppose living here as an outlander makes your heart waver every so often. Am I right?”

…How on earth did she find all that out just by reading his palms?

“From the look on your face, I can tell that you’re going through something unpleasant as well,” she continued, letting go of his hand with a stern look. “I don’t know the specifics but it would be good to actually speak to the person or people involved. There’s no point in punishing yourself with uncertainty when their reassurance is readily attainable. Isn’t that right, Kamisato retainer?”

Now he knew why some of the shrine maidens at the estate spoke of Yae Miko with a hint of fear in their words. She was way too perceptive!

“It’s an honor to receive direct counsel from you, Lady Guuji,” Thoma said with a small bow. “Thank you very much. I’ll make sure to reflect on it.”

“Oh, reflection alone won’t get you anywhere, sweet boy,” she chuckled behind her hand. “Rather, you should act on it. Playing the people pleaser can only last you for so long in a place like this. I’m sure you know that well—being an outlander and all.”

That hit a little too close to home, but Thoma didn’t make it evident on his face. “I understand. Thank you again.”

That day, Thoma decided against searching the city for yours and Ayato’s whereabouts. Instead, he went straight home and leveled the hedges faster than the time it would take for three people to do the job. Yae Miko’s words repeated themselves like a mantra in his head, and all he could do to cope was keep himself busy.

Playing the people pleaser can only last you so long in a place like this.

You and the Commissioner didn’t return until nightfall, and Thoma didn’t voice out a single complaint—receiving you and his charge with bright smiles and a warm welcome as usual. During dinner, though, he felt Ayaka’s gaze trailing after him every now and again. That was a telltale sign that the princess was catching on to whatever was bothering him, but Thoma had a tad too much pride to let her in on the situation.

After all, this was probably just nothing.

Right?

Things didn’t exactly get better in the next few days like he’d hoped.

You’ve been quite elusive as of late. You hadn’t slept in his room since the night you first came back, and while Thoma usually didn’t mind your independence, his…current predicament made going about this in a completely logical manner quite difficult. Your outings with Ayato have become more and more frequent than what he was accustomed to. The Commissioner had a penchant for holing himself in his room for days, and now he took public matters into his own hands?

Another thing that startled him was the fact that you’re oh-so willing to tend to Ayato’s requests! Back then, you used to bemoan the workload and talked Thoma’s ear off about how much you wanted to quit despite the Kamisato clan’s good graces. Of course, you didn’t mean a single word. Both of you knew how attached you’ve gotten to this family, and peeling yourself away was more work than you’d otherwise expect.

But now, even when you weren’t busy, Thoma would catch you going up to Ayato’s study to do Archons-know-what. He wasn’t so terrible a person that he’d jump to conclusions about his lord doing unsightly things with his lover, but…

“Thoma.”

He sighed, casting a sidelong glance across the hall. “Yes, milady?”

Ayaka had that look on her face—the one that spelled you owe me an explanation for this—and Thoma wondered why he thought he could ever escape her scrutiny. This was Ayaka after all.

Wordlessly, he led her to the pavilion, where the fresh breeze wafted through the courtyard. They sat on the edge of the platform like they always did, since they were children. And as Thoma gazed out into the ocean below, Ayaka patiently waited for him to speak.

“Milady, what would you do if you thought your lover was…losing interest in you?”

It’s not like Thoma never considered the possibility—in fact, he has. Multiple times. You used to be one of the underground’s renown assassins. Even if you’ve successfully adapted to your life as a retainer in such a short time, Thoma knew very well that you were still a lone wolf by heart. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to him if, one day, you decided that you didn’t need the Yashiro Commission—didn’t need him—anymore, and fled into the night. He didn’t like it when it felt like you were slipping out of his grasp. You already did once, and he feared that it was bound to happen again.

This definitely wasn’t a thought that occurred to Thoma on a daily basis. But whenever he did consider the idea of you leaving him behind…

Ayaka’s eyes widened slightly at his inquiry, and Thoma could almost hear the thought process occurring in that head of hers. What do you mean? Did you and Miss Kira have a fight? Is there anything I can do?

However, the reaction that he actually got was…far from what he imagined.

Ayaka pressed her lips together in an attempt to suppress a snort, startling when such an unbecoming noise came out of her before pressing a palm across her mouth. Thoma didn’t know whether he should be offended that she was laughing at his predicament or relieved because the Shirasagi Himegimi was finally letting herself express an extensive spectrum of emotions. Either way, Ayaka was quick to recover from that quick slip-up.

“And here I thought you might’ve been coming down with something,” she sighed, clearing her throat as she composed herself. “Thoma, what gave you the idea that Miss Kira was losing interest?”

“...You’re going to think I’m ridiculous.”

“I’m sure your reasons aren’t any more ridiculous than the list of complaints we receive from the citizens on the regular,” Ayaka reassured. “Now, go on. You’ve always heard me out when I have things I can’t get off my mind. It’s only proper for me to lend you an ear as well.”

Thoma closed his eyes. Yup. There was no escaping Kamisato Ayaka’s scrutiny.

So, he told her. About how he noticed you and her brother have grown exponentially familiar with each other ever since your trip to Yashiori Island. How you’ve been avoiding him(?) as of late. He’s not very sure about that last one, since you still respond whenever Thoma calls out to you, but it’s as if you had more impending matters to attend to than paying attention to him. If he’d been any less understanding than he was, he would’ve sulked.

Ayaka listened to every word carefully, nodding every so often. And once Thoma was finished speaking, she breathed in deeply.

“I see. So that’s how things appeared on your end,” the princess lamented. “I’ll be the one to apologize on their behalf. Those two… You’re right about the fact that they have grown closer since Yashiori. But there's absolutely no reason for you to fret, Thoma.”

Thoma shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying is, Brother and Miss Kira are two people who, when they put their backs into planning something, give it their all so it would be a success.” Ayaka grinned. “That kind of explains why she’s been hard to come by lately. Although, you should be seeing the fruit of their labor very soon.”

“...That doesn’t make you sound cryptic at all, milady.”

She giggled behind the guise of her fan, and Thoma ultimately resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any answers out of her anytime soon.

“You’ll see~”

He hardly got a wink of sleep that night.

Thoma tossed and turned alone in his bed—wondering what in the seven nations you and Ayato had been cooking up to warrant this much of your time. Could it be pertaining to your investigations on Yashiori Island? Was it some sort of new and improved cure for the Tatarigami? He hadn’t the slightest clue, and he wasn’t getting anywhere near a logical explanation come morning either.

To his disappointment, Madarame had to get him out of bed because he’d overslept. This was something unusual for Thoma to experience because his circadian rhythm was as impeccable as Ayaka’s swordsmanship.

(He humbly blames it on the lack of attention from his significant other.)

“Lord and Lady Kamisato have already gone out for the day,” Madarame explained as he and Thoma made their way to the courtyard. “But they did leave instructions for you to drop by Komore Teahouse once you’re able. It’s for an…urgent matter, so to speak.”

Thoma sighed. Great. Now there was another impending issue on his plate, when he hadn’t even sorted out his conflicted feelings about your recurring absence. Not that Madarame had to know about these tendencies of his. Nobody would believe it—the housekeeper of the Kamisato clan, craving the love and affection of his girlfriend like a kicked puppy.

“What of Miss Kira?” he asked, just in case. “Has she said anything?”

Madarame’s face scrunched up into an apologetic look. Thoma sighed.

“Thanks anyways,” he told him glumly. “I’ll head over to the city now. Hold down the fort while we’re gone, okay?”

“Of course.” Madarame bowed, but just as Thoma was about to turn on his heel to make his leave— “Oh, Master Thoma, one more thing.”

The chief glanced at the other man with one brow arched as he flashed him a sincere grin that only served to puzzle Thoma. “Yes?”

Then, earnestly, Madarame spoke:

“Happy Birthday.”

Things just got more depressing, if that was even possible.

Thoma made the trip to the capital in several states of distress. He’d been so caught up in trying to wrap his head around yours and Ayato’s antics that he forgot today was his birthday.

It didn’t help that it seemed he was the only one left in the dark. Ayato knew. You knew. Hell, even Ayaka knew what was going on. During last night’s bout of senseless overthinking, he considered ditching common courtesy and just straight up asking the princess all the things he wanted to know about. As strong-willed as she was, Ayaka was still quite meek. Thoma knew he could pressure some answers out of her given the right conditions, but he never once tried to do so in any other situation. Being a people pleaser, and all that.

But now, he was at his limit. His lover obviously thought another man’s time was worth her while compared to Thoma’s. Even if Ayato loved and raised him like they were blood brothers, he couldn’t help the unshakeable feeling of resentment. Just one trip to Yashiori made them all smitten like that? When Thoma has been by your side far longer?

In the back of his head, an ominous voice reminded him that you and him only became more honest with your feelings after retrieving that cure from Yashiori all those months ago.

Who knew Miss Kira was that easy? It hissed. She ditched you for Ayato on your birthday.

Shut up. Shut up, she’s not like that.

Okay, having an internal argument with himself in broad daylight was all sorts of weird. But that extensive contemplation made Thoma fail to realize that he’d already arrived.

Komore Teahouse has been the Yashiro Commission’s stronghold in the capital since time immemorial. Both Ayaka and Ayato preferred having business dealings in the discreet rooms of the shop rather than back at the estate. Not only was it carefully guarded by the Shuumatsuban, but it was more accessible compared to the manor in Mount Yougou.

The first thing Thoma noticed, however, was that nobody was stationed outside. Not Kozue, not Heihachi. Even that pesky Snezhnayan Ramsay was nowhere to be seen.

All of a sudden, a chill ran across the length of his spine. The grisly that thought the Teahouse had been under siege crossed his mind as quick as lightning. Kozue would never leave her post for just any reason, so that was the most sound explanation he could think of. Hurriedly, the chief retainer slid the door to the shop open; hoping that this wasn’t where Ayaka and Ayato were headed for the day—

Pop!

Thoma could only stand by the doorway in stunned silence as a small blast of confetti hit him in the face. To his side, the Commissioner’s familiar face came to view—an unsuspecting party popper in his hands, before the rest of his company shouted:

“Happy Birthday!”

All around him, the familiar faces of friends, family, and comrades were present. Taroumaru was seated comfortably on his usual spot on the counter—holding up a sign that spelled Happy Birthday, Thoma! Ayaka was, surprisingly, in the company of none other than Yae Miko herself, a person he never thought he would see again so soon. She winked at him from behind the princess, as if telling him to keep a secret only they knew about. Yoimiya and Sayu have also joined the fray; with the former clapping her hands gleefully and the latter napping on top of the counter.

And then there was you.

“Hey,” you greeted casually—holding a delectable-looking cake in your hands as Yoimiya took it upon herself to light the candles. “How’re you doing, guard dog?”

Thoma was at an utter loss for words. He gaped at you in silence, green eyes alight with surprise as he absentmindedly let you ease the cake into his hands.

“W-We’re both guard dogs,” he mumbled before promptly snapping out his trance. “Wait, what’s this? Don’t tell me…”

Ayaka chuckled from where she sat herself down in front of the counter. “Miss Kira and Brother have been putting together a surprise party for you, if that isn’t any more obvious than it already is.”

“We thought you’d appreciate the, ah, change in pace,” Ayato supplied, setting the party popper near the door as he crossed his arms. “You’ve been working so diligently these days, that you deserved as much.”

His lips quivered with the intent to speak, but no words were coming out. Thoma’s gaze darted around every person in the room, as if unable to get a grip on the reality before him—what the hell is Yae Miko doing here?!—until his emerald gaze landed on your form.

You grinned. “What are you waiting for? The candles aren’t going to blow themselves y’know? Plus, we prepared an entire repertoire for your special day.”

The thought of you going out of your way just to prepare all this made a familiar warmth surge through his chest. Of course, he felt all the more guilty of thinking those nasty thoughts about what you were up to. But he supposed he could repent for that a bit later. The others looked on expectantly, and Thoma, who’d always been weak to the whims of others, heaved a sigh.

So he puckered his lips and blew out the candles.

“I am so sorry.”

Those were the first words that came out of his mouth once Thoma pulled you into another room in the Teahouse. You gawked at him, confused as your lover sank to his knees and bowed before you.

“You know, I’m not really into this sort of S&M play, right?” you told him as you sat in front of his repentant form on the tatami. “But do I want to ask what this is about?”

Thoma sat upright with a sigh, maintaining a certain distance given that he felt like he didn’t deserve to be near you at all after everything he just assumed… “I thought you didn’t want me anymore. You’ve been so busy with the Commissioner these past few days that I assumed—”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a sec,” you interjected, palms raised. “Are you saying you thought Ayato and I hit it off or something?”

“...Yes?”

If the small snort that Ayaka gave him yesterday was disrespectful, the reaction he gained from you was downright insolent. You laughed your heart out until you were a giggling mess on the floor, wiping the tears in your eyes at the prospect of Thoma getting jealous of Ayato over something that he completely had the wrong idea about.

“Okay, for the record, ‘Yato and I are just tight as hell. Like bro-bros, y’know?” you explained, and Thoma didn’t really understand your verbiage. “He’s the one who dragged me back to fix things when shit hit the fan, so he’s kind of like my voice of reason for a lot of things now…”

“That includes how I’m going to handle...us.”

Now, that caught his attention. “Pardon?”

You sighed, pulling yourself upright before scooting a bit to lean your head on his shoulder. “I’ve never nurtured any sort of stable relationship in the past, y’know? Zero experience. I’m terrified of messing up somewhere so badly that you’ll leave me because of it. That’s why I asked for Ayato’s advice while we were in Yashiori.”

…Thoma had no idea that you carried such sentiments inside. He wanted to tell you that even if you slaughtered every person in this building right now, he would still love you. Though that’s stretching it a bit, it didn’t make it any less true.

He was so hopelessly in love with you. It was downright ridiculous!

“He told me that one of the best ways to keep a relationship going is consistency,” you murmured, linking your hand with his. “I have to be consistent in letting you know how I feel. Always, without fail. I can’t just be a lone wolf forever, since I came to work at the estate on my own volition. It means I gotta be more open with you, too, yeah? That’s why I thought throwing you a birthday party was a good place to start.”

He couldn’t believe it. The woman he feared would leave him one day also harbored the same thoughts. That made him a hypocrite, now that he thought about it. Thoma had been so busy keeping the peace and making things easy for everyone in the present, that he hadn’t dedicated any time to addressing the future he’s bound to share with you.

He was yet to give you a proper reassurance.

“I-It’s just—” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re just so amazing, you know that? Everyone trusts you, everyone looks up to you—even if you’re an outlander. I can barely talk to one of milady’s annoying socialite friends without saying something standoffish.”

Thoma squeezed your hand with a fond smile. “And?”

“And I feel like, I— Ugh. You are so going to give me an earful for this, but… I still feel like I don’t deserve you.”

The chief retainer exhaled loudly through his nose before pulling you closer to his chest. You visibly startled at the gesture, but followed his lead, no less.

“That’s something you can’t easily convince yourself of,” he acknowledged, remembering the times you told him about your childhood in Yashiori Island; about the years you spent as a wandering mercenary. “And I don’t blame you for it. But I hope that you’re willing to move forward to the next phase of your life, and not chain yourself to the sins you committed in the past. I’ll always be here, Miss Kira. Every step of the way.”

He felt your fingers tighten around his bicep and the sigh of relief that expelled from your chest. You turned around to face him with a teary look in your eyes. But just before he could panic and wipe them away—

“It’s been a while since you’ve called me by my real name,” you sulked, cupping his jaw in the curve of your palm. “That one’s reserved for you alone, remember? Don’t forget to use the privilege.”

Thoma let out an airy laugh, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss as he murmured the syllables of your name against your mouth. You sighed—hands moving to the back of his neck as you shifted on his lap. Both of you were well aware of the fact that the others were in the other room, playing a very interesting variation of mahjong that Ayato came up with, but you didn’t care.

Your lover even let his tongue slip inside the cavern of your mouth, hands firmly planted on your hips as he—

“I was wondering where the celebrant was.”

Needless to say, the two of you sprang apart at the sound of Yae Miko’s voice. Red-faced, Thoma greeted her with a stuttered reply that has the priestess chuckling at the doorway.

“No need to explain yourselves. Young ones always have so much energy, after all,” she teased. “Lord Ayato was kind enough to invite me to this little get-together, but I must take my leave. There’s something I need to look into back at the shrine.”

“T-Thanks for coming Lady Guuji. It really is an honor,” you told her dryly, with whatever semblance of composure you could muster up.

Yae Miko flashed another one of those conspiratorial grins. “That reminds me, I left a matrimonial charm in Lady Ayaka’s care as your birthday present. If the two of you ever plan on tying the knot, just show that to one of my shrine maidens, and I’ll personally oversee the ceremony myself.”

…Wait a moment. Did Yae Miko, the Lady Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, just give the two of you her blessing for marriage?

“Well, you can continue what it was you were doing,” she laughed, lifting one hand in a wave. “I hope to see you both soon~”

Then, there were two.

“We’re going to pretend that didn’t happen, right?” you asked.

Thoma nodded. “Definitely.”

As the two of you straightened yourselves out before rejoining the others at the party, you randomly asked, “Hey, this is a little out of the blue, but have you seen my binoculars anywhere? I put it in the drawer by your cabinets, but I can’t seem to find them anymore.”

He feigned a look of contemplation—wholly aware that he forgot to retrieve your special gadget from where he hid them in the bushes the last time he saw Yae Miko. Fuck.

“Nope, no clue,” he replied swiftly. “We could ask around in Ritou if they’ve imported anything similar?”

“Ehh, that was just a hand-me-down from the Tenryou Commission anyways.” You shrugged. “Oh, by the way…”

Thoma paused as you leaned closer to his ear to whisper something. If he hadn’t been embarrassed when Yae Miko walked in on the two of you, he definitely was now.

“I’m going to make up for the time we spent apart when we get home,” you whispered. “You’ll play along, right, pretty boy?”

The chief retainer could barely suppress the groan that reverberated in his chest as you tantalizingly ran your hand across it. Now that he’s fully recovered from his own emotional turmoils, the fact that he’s been wanting to get you alone all this time came crashing down. But it wasn’t as if he’s in any position to refuse.

He was the people pleaser after all.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin smut #genshin fanfic #thoma smut #thoma fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #genshin thoma #cryoculus #guard dog

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kittenofdoomage · 1 year

Text

Hot For Teacher

Summary: He never forgot the teacher that had the most impact on him.

Prompt: Dean Winchester, in class, crushing on the teacher

Pairing: Dean Winchester x older!female!teacher!reader

Word Count: 5643 words

Warnings: fluff, crushes, slight angst, some mentions of John’s stellar parenting (don’t @ me, I love him, but I can be character critical), smut (nothing underage), flashbacks, reader is approaching forty, some humor about sex in later life.

Ao3 Link

“I’m telling you, man, this isn’t our thing,” Sam dismissed, following Dean through the doors into the high school reception. His brother grunted, flashing his badge at the security guard, who directed him to the desk where a gentleman was quietly reading.

“And I’m telling you, it might be.” Dean retorted, fixing a professionally fake smile onto his face, leaning on the desk with one elbow. “Agents Townsend and Daltry, we’ve got an appointment?”

The man peered at him over his glasses, pursing his lips for a split second as he glanced at the identification Dean was holding. After a second or two, he looked down, checking the clipboard wedged underneath his arm, before he smiled back at them. “Principal Matthews is in her office, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Dean nodded, turning to move a little further away out of earshot. “We got five kids, swearing they saw a monster.”

“Yeah, highschoolers, seniors in their final year, acting out an urban legend,” Sam replied. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry right now.”

“Yeah? Got any leads?” the older man challenged. “Because last I checked, we had bupkis to go on.”

Sam sighed, but the argument was cut short as a door opened, and a tall lady with grey hair looked at them. “Agents?”

The office they stepped into was large, decorated sparsely with modern furniture, and a large flag behind her desk read “Gellar Gators, Go, Go, Go!” with a cartoon alligator in a football helmet. As Principal Matthews took her seat, both men turned to face her, though Dean was still inspecting everything.

“I assume this is about the recent attacks,” she started, folding her hands in front of her on the desk. “I’m not sure what I can tell you that I haven’t already told the police. They took all our security camera footage and -”

“Nothing to be seen,” Dean interjected with a nod, pulling out a notepad and a pen. “We’re just following up, seeing if anyone remembered anything different. Maybe something they didn’t want to tell the police?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” the principal asked, obviously confused. “I know some of the other children were saying it was a monster, but we all know how children can be.”

“We’re just trying to make sure no one else gets hurt,” Dean continued, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re aware that there was another victim last night?”

“Danny Elderman, yes, I’ve been told,” she murmured, shaking her head sadly. “His mother said he would make a full recovery though.”

Sam dragged his hand out of his pocket, gesticulating slightly. “All the attacks took place on school grounds, Principal Matthews.”

“And the police searched the whole place,” she defended. “I can assure you, Agents, we are taking this seriously. The students have all been instructed to report anything strange and there’s a curfew in effect.”

The brothers shared a look, realizing that this wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Dean cleared his throat, stepping a little closer. “We’re gonna stick around, speak to some of the students, if that’s okay.”

Principal Matthews nodded, gesturing to the door. “Of course, anything to help.”

Turning on his heel to head for the door, Dean’s gaze caught sight of a board, showcasing the faculty members with photographs and a brief description of their position. A single face jumped out at him, and for a moment, he was seventeen again. He froze, staring at it, before Sam’s fist jammed into his back and forced him to keep going.

Once outside, he stopped entirely, spinning around to face his brother. “Did you see her?” he asked, feeling a little breathless.

Sam’s face scrunched up. “Who?”

“On the faculty board. Miss. Y/L/N -” He laughed, shaking his head. “Outta all of the schools in the country -”

“Wait a minute,” Sam mumbled, remembering the name. “The math teacher from Luther High? That Miss. Y/L/N?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied excitedly. “Wonder if she remembers me?”

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably married with kids by now, Dean, it’s been nearly twenty years. It might not even be her.”

“It was.”

“Fine, say it is. What are you gonna do? Go tell her you had a crush on her when you were a kid?”

Dean pulled a face, irritated by his brother’s attitude. “Not hurting anyone if I just say hi,” he muttered bitterly, “and I didn’t say you had to come with me.”

Sam seemed glad of that, at least, and decided to leave Dean to make an ass of himself alone. The gentleman at the desk was more than happy to provide the “agent” with the classroom he needed, and as Dean strolled down the corridor towards her class, his mind began to wander back to 1996, and his three months in Dawney, Montana.

It wasn’t that he hated school, he just didn’t see the point of it, not when there were more important things in the world, like hunting. His dad had left them in this crummy mountain town while he tracked something through the forest, and Dean didn’t know how long they were going to be there. Attending high school was at least a way to pass the time, and it kept social services off their backs, as well as providing a useful tool for keeping an eye on his troublesome younger brother.

Sam was happy to be starting school again. Summer had dragged, and they’d been at loggerheads in their small rented room, with little to do to occupy the time. Luther High School wasn’t a huge campus, and it had barely four hundred students, so Dean was relieved of the pressure of trying to make friends when he didn’t want to.

The first day back, and he’d already managed to irritate the science teacher and the coach. His third period was math, and when the teacher walked in, Dean wasn’t sure she was a teacher at all. She was young, maybe a few years older than him, and she looked nervous as hell as she addressed her only senior class of thirty.

“Okay, good afternoon, everyone,” she greeted, dropping her stacks of paper onto the desk. “Hope you’re not too bored of learning after the summer break already.”

A kid in the middle raised his hand, and she pointed at him, waiting for his question. “Are you really our teacher?” he snorted. “You don’t look much older than us.”

She chuckled, tugging her blouse back down where it had ridden up. “I am definitely your teacher. Well, I’m a student intern. I’ve got a degree, I’m just working towards certification now.” Picking up a piece of chalk, she turned to the board and wrote her name out in neat cursive before turning back. “I’m Miss. Y/L/N.”

Another hand went up but this kid didn’t wait for permission. “How old are you?”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled. “Now didn’t your mama tell you it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” she chided. “If you really need to know, I’m twenty-two. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hate me as much as if I was fifty,” she joked, picking up a sheet. “Anyway, we’re here to learn math, so why don’t you open your books to page thirty-three and we’ll crack on with some calculus. You’re gonna have to bear with me - they told me I was teaching ninth and tenth, so I wasn’t exactly prepared.”

In any other situation, Dean was sure he would have gone out of his way to make this poor woman’s life hell. He wasn’t a model student, and never had any intention of being one, but for some reason, as he watched Miss. Y/L/N fluster over her notes, apologizing repeatedly for the slightest thing, he didn’t feel the urge to be his usual irritating self. Instead, he kept his head down - when he wasn’t looking at her - and worked quietly, though he was certain he was getting every answer wrong.

The class ended, and the other students rushed to get out and onto their last lesson of the day, but as Dean went for the door, Miss. Y/L/N stopped him. He froze when she called his name, suddenly panicked that she had caught him staring, but the gentle smile on her face didn’t scream “trouble”.

“Dean,” she said softly, “sorry, I didn’t want to pick on you in front of everyone.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked carefully, the ever present concern of social services in the back of his mind.

“No!” she insisted, laughing lightly. “I was told you were new here, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have trouble following. These guys can pick up where they left off last year, but sometimes high schools don’t always follow the same plan, y’know?”

“Oh, uh,” he scratched his head nervously, “I’m fine, y’know. It’s math.”

A bright smile lit up her face, and his heart did a funny fluttering thing that left him slightly breathless. “That’s great,” she enthused. “If you have any problems, feel free to come to me, okay?”

He smiled back, struggling to contain the boyish crow that wanted to burst out of him at her attention. “Sure,” he replied through gritted teeth, “thanks.”

It didn’t feel like he could get out of there quick enough. His last period was a blur, passing by him as he sat at the back, unnoticed by the graying gentleman trying to teach them about ancient Europe. Miss. Y/L/N’s smile haunted his thoughts, and he couldn’t focus on anything, even when he met Sam at the school gate.

“Dean?”

His brother’s voice snapped him out of his stupor as they walked home. “What?” he mumbled, staring over at him cluelessly.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“You weren’t paying attention to anything I just said.”

Another shrug. “Was it important?”

Sam scowled. “No, but -”

He groaned, picking up speed a little. “C’mon, man, I’m tired.”

There was a small hope that his newfound level of infatuation with the opposite sex was only a fleeting thing, but when Miss. Y/L/N walked into class the next day wearing tight fitting pants with a red blouse, he knew it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of experience with girls his age, and though she wasn’t much older, he wasn’t sure his experience would lend him any favors.

The worst part was wanting to please her. He actually paid attention, making an effort to understand the numbers instead of half-assing it like he’d done his entire life.

Confiding in Sam after school didn’t leave him with any more hope either.

“Dean, she’s a teacher.”

“She’s a student teacher.”

“I don’t think that matters much,” his brother denied. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to stay out of trouble? Social services aren’t gonna look the other way if you seduce a teacher.”

Dean grumbled unhappily. “I’m eighteen in a few months,” he complained.

“You really think we’ll be here then?” Sam asked, sadness in his voice. “We’ll be lucky if we’re still here for Halloween, Dean.”

“Guess I have to hope Dad comes to get us soon then,” he sighed.

John didn’t come back for them soon. He checked in every week, promising it wouldn’t be long, but weeks rolled into months, and Dean’s crush grew, developing into something his teenage heart wasn’t sure what to do with. Channeling his nervous energy into actually doing his work was landing him with good grades, and two months in, he brought home his first report card that didn’t include an “F”. Of course, only Sam was there to celebrate it, but he was a little proud of himself.

Two months into their tenure at Luther High, and one Wednesday after class, Miss. Y/L/N asked him to wait after class again. This period was the last of the day, so he didn’t rush, waiting until she’d cleared everyone out.

“I wanted to catch up,” she began, leaning against her desk and bracing her weight on her hands. “See how you were getting on.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, giving her an awkward smile. “Good, I guess,” he mumbled, the same nerves from their last chat reaching up into his throat to strangle him. He coughed lightly, shrugging. “It’s nice here.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, glancing out of the window. “It is. Not somewhere I’d wanna live forever though. What about you?” He shrugged, and she smiled gently. “I’ve read your file, Dean. Are you an army kid or -”

“My dad travels for work,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Can I ask what he does?”

He tensed, keeping his mouth shut, retreating to the safe behavior of brick walling it. Despite that instinct, there was an urge, something inside him telling him that she wouldn’t laugh at him or call child services, and it was getting harder to ignore as she eyeballed him for an answer.

She stood straight, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a smart kid, Dean. You’ve shown that in your grades, that even with all the disruption, you’ve got a brain in there. Have you… have you considered what happens after school?”

He shrugged again. “The family business.”

“What does that mean?”

His heart thudded in his chest. “My dad, he…” Don’t do it, his father’s voice instructed sternly in his head. It never ends well. He swallowed again, trying to turn his voice to steel, to put her off like he had so many others. “He’ll be coming to get us soon. You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am,” she replied, ignoring the warning in his voice. “I don’t consider trying to help anyone to be a waste of time. And I feel like you might need some help. Even just - even just to talk to someone. Without judgment.”

An unattractive snort escaped him. “They all say that, sweetheart,” he advised her, the cockiness seeping out of him, “but that disappears when they hear what I gotta say.”

“Try me.”

The solidity of her challenge gave him pause, and he finally met her gaze, holding it for a few seconds. Even though he was significantly taller, she made him feel small, like she was seeing through him, and he shuddered, letting the guard drop.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You’ll call some social worker. I’ve been through this before, and I’m not putting Sammy through that again.”

Miss. Y/L/N frowned, dropping her hands to her sides. “Your brother is Sammy, right?” He nodded. “I’ve had him for a couple classes. He’s a smart kid,” she paused, smiling, “just like his brother.”

Dean watched her warily, feeling like prey on its back, belly exposed and vulnerable.

“The bonus of being a student teacher,” she continued, slowly walking to the door and closing it, “is I’m very good at missing things.” The lock clicked as she slid it into place, and she turned back to him. “Safe space, Dean. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I promise I won’t say a word to anyone.”

He stared at her, too terrified to move for a second. It wasn’t like his father was going to break the habit of a lifetime and build a life here, so telling her might not have many consequences, but then again, it was ingrained into him not to tell anyone about the family business.

Miss. Y/L/N waited, patiently, moving herself away from the door and back to her desk, giving him the space, and the exit, if he needed it.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he finally asked softly, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet.

She shrugged. “I don’t not believe in them,” she replied. “I’ve never seen one myself.”

“And if I told you they are real? Like really real, and my dad kinda hunts them.” He rushed it out, still unable to look at her for fear of her reaction. “Other things too,” he whispered. “I’ve… I’ve seen things that… that give me nightmares.”

Her silence felt judgmental but when he eventually managed to look her in the eye, she was only staring at him with compassion. “That sounds terrifying,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine anyone would sleep well with that knowledge.”

“Which is why I shouldn’t be telling you anything,” he growled, frustrated with himself. “Rule number one, don’t tell anyone what we do. And I went and broke it because -”

The abrupt end of his outburst made her frown. “Because?” she prompted, and he grunted, running a hand through his short hair. “Because?” she asked again, stepping closer.

“Because I like you,” he murmured, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Because you don’t look at me like I’m some kind of freak.” He turned away, embarrassed and ashamed, and ready to throw the towel in on the whole school thing.

Her hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, alert green eyes meeting hers in surprise. “I’m flattered,” she whispered, smiling gently. “And you’re not a freak. You’re a kid with a hell of a weight on his shoulders.”

It would have been lying to say he didn’t appreciate the validation. “I’m eighteen in January,” he muttered.

“Still illegal,” she chuckled. “Position of authority and all that.”

“I can assure you, I have no respect for authority,” he tried, turning on the charm, but it only made her giggle. The laughter didn’t hurt him, which was surprising, but he already knew he had no shot at her, legal or not.

“I’m not gonna pretend the thought of things being real isn’t terrifying,” she said slowly. “Obviously, I can’t relate. But I was seventeen not so long ago, and I remember how scary just regular life can be. You’re Sam's primary caregiver, right?”

“Uh-huh. When my dad’s not around, and -” He shrugged, trailing off, leaving the implication that his father wasn’t around much in the air.

“That’s a lot of responsibility at a young age. And Sam’s such a good kid, you should be proud.”

“I am.”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled, placing her hand on his shoulder again. “You’re a good person, Dean Winchester. Whatever you decide to do with your life, just don’t forget that, and I’ve got faith you’ll be okay.”

Two weeks later, Luther High School was in the rearview, and they were moving on.

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her. Standing outside her classroom, staring at her through the square window in the door, he felt seventeen again. Of course she’d aged, so had he, but for a woman pushing forty, she looked great.

Her class seemed focused on everything she was saying, and she seemed to be in her element at the front of the room, running through a mathematical problem on the board. Dean stepped closer, and the movement made her gaze dart to the door, her whole body freezing as she saw his face. Her lips stopped moving, eyes wide; the bell rang, saving her from her class noticing her sudden distraction, and she quickly dismissed them.

He waited outside the door until the room was empty, then stepped in, closing the door behind him. Miss. Y/L/N - he noted her name on the board, internally crowing that she was not married - smiled, folding her arms across her chest as she watched him approach.

“Dean Winchester,” she breathed. “That smart kid I always wondered about.”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted. “Best teacher I ever had. Can’t believe you recognized me.”

Her smile widened. “How could I forget a face that handsome?” she chuckled. “And it’s Y/N, please, we’re both grown ups now.” She looked him up and down, not even bothering to conceal her appreciation. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’re still teaching,” he commented, looking around.

“I am. What about you?”

“Family business,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure if she’d remember. “Guess I never found another path I liked enough.”

She hummed. “Are you happy though?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “for the most part. Yeah.” His awkwardness was showing like twenty years had never passed, and he smiled, shoving one hand into his pocket. “What about you? Husband, kids?”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “Two cats and a ridiculous amount of books about monsters,” she confessed after a second or two, and he blinked at her in confusion. “Guess I couldn’t quite drop the questions after what you told me. Only reading though, I don’t ever want to meet one in person.” Her face contorted in horror. “Oh, god, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The attacks - is it a monster?”

He pulled a face. “Not sure yet. My brother and I are looking into it -”

“Wait, your brother, Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t kidding about family business,” she muttered.

“I take it you didn’t see or hear anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t stay past dark, and I only teach the juniors now. You’d be better off talking to Mr. Harrison, several of his students were involved.” A knock at the door made them both turn, and Dean waved at Sam on the other side. “Is that Sam?” she asked, sounding a little shocked. “Wow. He got tall.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, he did.” He looked back at her, a smirk on his lips. “Listen, when we’ve dealt with this,” he began slowly, “I’d really like to buy you dinner. I don’t think I gotta worry about getting you in trouble now we’re both graying adults.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and she turned to her desk, bending to scribble her number on a scrap of paper. Dean took the opportunity to admire her ass in the tight-fitting black pants, and his cock reacted at the thought of finally getting what his teenage fantasies had been made of.

She straightened and slipped the scrap of paper into his hand, closing his fingers around it. “I’m certain we can still find plenty of trouble to get into,” she purred, the sudden seduction making him flustered as Sam knocked on the door again.

“I bet we can,” he stuttered out, backing up towards the door. “I’ll call you, Miss….” He laughed nervously as he corrected himself. “Y/N.”

It hadn’t taken more than another few hours to figure out the case was vampires, and Mr. Harrison was actually the creature in question. He’d been turned on a wild weekend and had decided to attempt sustainable feeding, using his young students as walking blood bags. Unfortunately, the light snacks weren’t enough to keep him going, and it was only by the grace of Sam and Dean’s presence that the final victim wasn’t a casualty.

Dean was nervous to call her when they were finally done hunting the vamp down and when he finally dialed the number, he was half-expecting it to be fake. She answered after four rings, and he stumbled over his words as he asked her if she was still interested in dinner. Her answer was a resounding yes, and he let her take the lead on a place and time.

“You’re going on a date?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m going on a date,” Dean snapped, buttoning up his nicest shirt, one of his newer red plaid button downs. “One, I haven’t had sex in months, and two, she’s literally my teenage fantasy.” He paused, tossing his brother a dirty look. “Three, maybe you should consider getting laid.”

Sam sneered at him, then threw himself on the bed, switching the tv on. “I guess I’ll stay here then.”

“You do that,” Dean grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

She was waiting for him in a little Italian place downtown, and it was all he could do not to grin like an idiot when he walked in and saw her. Her smile was bright as he sat down opposite her, both of them remaining silent as the server handed them each a menu.

“Hi,” she whispered, leaning in. “You look really good.”

Dean let his gaze drop, admiring the view of her cleavage in the little black dress she’d paired with leggings. “Hi yourself,” he murmured, smirking lightly. “That’s a very distracting dress.”

“Would you have preferred I wore a pantsuit?” she teased, giggling when his cheeks turned red. “This place is great, any of their pasta is amazing.”

“You eat here often?”

She nodded, smiling at him again. “It’s my favorite place.”

He didn’t know what it had been about her all those years ago, but she was the same now, coaxing him into an easy conversation. They talked about everything from her life to snippets of his, though she avoided asking about anything too intense, and he avoided sharing anything too disturbing. It was nice for once to just be a regular person, without the need to be incredibly guarded about his secrets.

Dinner moved onto dessert, and they kept talking, flirting with each other as the restaurant emptied around them. By the time their meal was finished, Dean had begun to envision what happened after, but when it came to propositioning it, he found himself unusually nervous.

She called for the check and insisted on paying, so he didn’t argue, sitting nervously as she thanked and tipped the server. When they disappeared again, leaving them alone, she turned her attention to him, smiling almost coyly.

“I’m not gonna pretend this is anything more than what it is,” she said suddenly, keeping her voice even and quiet. “One night between two adults, who they’ll probably never see again, right?”

He sighed with a tiny laugh, leaning his arm on the table. “I’m not the type to settle down,” he replied calmly. “And this life…”

“I get it,” she whispered, taking his hand. “I’m not looking for long haul. But I wouldn’t mind making a happy memory or two.” Her lips twitched into a smile. “Besides, I don’t wanna have gotten all dressed up for nothing.”

“I can assure you,” he replied firmly, “you did not.”

She grinned. “My place is about four blocks away.”

“My car’s outside.”

His inner seventeen year old, if such a thing existed, was jumping for joy as she led him out of the restaurant. She admired his car openly, prompting him to act out just a little, showing off his baby with pride before driving them back to her apartment. The aforementioned cats were meowing loudly when they entered, and he followed her into the kitchen, shedding his jacket as she fed the whining felines.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, returning to him once she’d washed her hands.

He smirked, bypassing conversation as he slid his fingers along her jaw and into her hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss that made her sigh when he pulled away a few seconds later. “Wow,” he murmured, staying close, noses tip to tip. “You know how many times I dreamed about doing that?”

“Did you ever dream about being in my bedroom?” she teased, twisting her finger in the collar of his shirt.

“Actually, most of the time, I was thinking about bending you over your desk,” he grinned, sliding his other hand over her hip. “I’m guessing you don’t have one in here?”

“No,” she giggled. “Will the bed do?”

“Lead the way.”

Her shoes were abandoned by the time they reached the bedroom door, with his shoes following just inside. Pants, shirt, and dress landed in another pile, and as they hit the bed, her leggings disappeared, his t-shirt following in rapid succession. His hands were everywhere he could put them, lips kissing every patch of skin revealed unless he was preoccupied by her mouth, and she whimpered when his fingers deftly unhooked and discarded her bra.

If only seventeen-year-old him had known this would happen one day.

Finally, he broke away to catch his breath, chuckling when he noticed her breathing heavily too. “If this had been ten years ago,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed, reaching for the drawer beside her bed, opening it and pulling out a box of condoms. He happily took one but didn’t open it, flashing a grin at her. “What?” she asked.

“You’re rushing me,” he chided softly. “I have no intention of doing anything but savoring this moment.”

Any reply she had to that disappeared as his fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, finding her already wet. Her moan drowned out his, and she clutched his shoulder as he eased a single finger into her, thrusting it back and forth to coax more wetness out of her.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined, arching a little, hips canting toward him in an effort to get more friction. “Oh, fuck, Dean -”

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “can’t wait to have this pussy wrapped around me.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as he added a second, opening her up. “But I want you to cum first.”

It was pointless trying to quiet her own noises, giving up when biting her lip didn’t cut it. Dean worked her higher and higher, watching her facial expression crumble as she reached her peak, her cries turning silent when he twisted his hand and grazed his thumb against her clit.

“I really wanna eat you out,” he murmured, lowering his voice to a rumble, and she quickly nodded, giving him the permission he was seeking. Withdrawing his hand, he left her teetering on the precipice of an orgasm as he removed her panties and slotted himself between her thighs.

His tongue was warm against her sensitive sex and she cried out again as he explored her, figuring out what made her tremble. She was drowning in a haze of arousal, unable to think about anything beyond his mouth on her cunt, and when he sank two fingers into her again, she had to fight the urge to close her thighs against the pleasure.

Dean was in heaven, working her into a frenzy with his tongue and fingers. He’d had a lot of time to think about this particular fantasy, and having her here, wet and warm and inviting, writhing underneath him, he was certain he’d peaked. He knew he would be replaying this one on repeat forever.

“Deeean,” Y/N whimpered, fingers tugging on his short hair. “Fuck, I’m so close -”

He broke away, working his fingers into her harder as she spread herself open a little more. “Don’t worry,” he growled, “just let go, baby.”

Her cries echoed off the walls when he sucked her clit into his mouth, teasing the bud and crooking his fingers inside her to find that extra sweet spot. It didn’t take long; she wailed as her pussy clenched around him, her pleasure ringing in his ears, but he didn’t stop, working her through the climax until she went limp.

He couldn’t keep the filthy smirk off of his face as he got onto his knees and retrieved the condom from where he’d dropped it. “You doing okay there, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Don’t,” she panted with a giggle. “You’ll make it awkward when people call me that.”

“Spoilsport,” he chuckled, opening the foil packet and tugging the condom free. “You still want this?”

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. “Uh-huh.”

A few seconds later and the condom was on. He stroked himself a few times before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, guiding the tip of his cock through her folds until she whimpered into his mouth. Her pussy was dripping, eagerly accepting every inch as he sank inside her, drawing back a couple of times when he met resistance, but not stopping until he was buried deep.

He had to stop then, feeling how hard his heart was racing. She caught his jaw with her hand, kissing him softly, lifting her right leg to press her knee against his side, allowing him to slip a tiny bit deeper. “Dreams do come true,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

“You always were hot for teacher,” she joked, and he chuckled, kissing her hard again before starting to rock against her. He didn’t rush, enjoying every thrust, relishing the way her body drew him back in, keeping him close. She didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in a hurry, letting him push her into an easy orgasm. His hands wandered, toying with her tits when he was going slower, grabbing her hips when he got faster, a little more urgent.

“Want you to cum again,” he growled, holding her leg in place as he fucked into her, “Wanna feel it right around my dick.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed, clinging to his neck. “Wanna feel y-you too.”

He nodded then kissed her, focusing on nothing but how good she felt in his arms, underneath, around him. So soft and wet, warm, inviting, his literal dream come true. Even if this was only one night, he knew he’d never forget her.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Dean -”

Her whole body quivered, thighs clenching around him as her pussy tightened, and he couldn’t hold it off, reacting with his own climax. His vision swam, and he couldn’t think beyond her warmth, her taste, her moans as she came for him. She clung to him until they were both done, collapsing with him onto the bed. Breathlessly, he kissed her one last time, withdrawing reluctantly to lay beside her.

“Holy shit,” she groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “I’m not gonna lie… the bar was low. You obliterated it.”

Dean chuckled, folding his hands behind his head, allowing the swell of pride in his chest. “That - that was awesome,” he agreed. “A dream come true. Literally.”

Y/N yawned, reaching over to place a hand against his chest. “I hope you’re not expecting a round two.”

He grinned. “Maybe in the morning.”

Thanks for reading! Please consider reblogging, maybe even leaving a comment? 😘

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #dean x reader #female reader #reader insert

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getoutofbednelly · 4 months

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one of the first fics I read after my rediscovery of fanfiction and buying a used kindle to make the experience ✨luxurious✨ was and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (I believe their tumblr is @asecretvice) . I knew I wanted to give this story a cover right away. the scenery and emotional depth in this story is so rich I really adore it.

fic review and disclaimer note under the cut

fic review: my goodness, this fic is heart achingly beautiful. as a grad student, in the trenches of acedemia, the scenes had me romanticizing the dark acedemic aesthetic again. and as a seattle transplant they had me deeply craving the east coast. what hit the hardest though, was the parental relationship explorations which were almost too close for comfort and pulled at some heart strings that I didn’t realize were there. I always thought of myself as a cas girl, but this fic made me realize just how deeply I identify with dean winchester (almost painfully so). Especially in the chapter John Winchester’s Waltz (couple highlights that hit hard are pictured). I’ve seen myself in dean in other fics in ways I don’t think I would have had I not read this one. I hope the author understands what a beautifully intimate story they crafted and how glad I am that they put it into words and shared it with us 🥲🫠

disclaimer note: I’m sharing this on tumblr because I’m aching for the fandom community, but I should say explicitly that this was not designed in communication with the fic author. I do not take any credit for the fic (credit to the story goes to the author and characters to the cw). I am simply posting because I want to fangirl in our happy fandom bubble. hopefully some of you enjoy it. if opal_bullets comes across this I especially hope they enjoy it, but if for any reason you (opal_bullets) don’t want to be associated with this cover, please contact me and I will take this down.

some notes on the cover design will be in a reblog since we are all our own worst critics and its long af.

#and this your living kiss #atylk #Destiel #deancas #spn #spn fanart #I guess?#supernatural #fanfic #fanfic review #opal_bullets #book cover #book cover design #fanfic cover #cover art #fanfic cover art

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evolutionsvoid · 7 months

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So you find yourself trudging through the jungle, perhaps looking for a rare specimen or maybe duped into searching for some "lost temple" or whatnot. It is hard work navigating this labyrinth of trees and fighting your way through the understory. The sheer heat and humidity ain't helping much either! So you stop in a clearing to catch your breath and drink some water, when suddenly rain starts to fall. If this journey couldn't get any worse! Sadly, it isn't even a refreshing rain, cool and clear, but a warm suffocating one. And it seems....a bit sticky too. As you see these thick gooey droplets fall upon your shoulder, you realize it isn't raining anywhere else around you, and this stuff is coming down in awkward globs. You touch this goop with your fingers, as apparently that is the only way to confirm if it is water or something else, and indeed find it to be warm and sticky. At this point you immediately drop everything and make a break for it, knowing full well that something is lurking up above you. No time should be wasted in getting away from that spot, only investigating further when you are somewhere more secure. Well, that is what you would do if you weren't an idiot, but if the stories and pulp novels were directing this scene, you would somehow find no need for haste.

You would instead fondle this odd goop in your fingers, and maybe take a whiff because why not. Certainly gathering critical information by doing this! And then once more falls down around you and you finally come to the conclusion it isn't just water (probably because you stuck it in your mouth), you decide to look up. But slowly! Wouldn't want to ruin the tension! Just stand locked in place and very slowly tilt your head upward, just in time to see a massive slug drop down from the branches and ruin your day (and probably life). What a load of rot! Do people seriously read these things? The pulp novels, I mean, not my journal entries. The sheer stupidity that some of those characters display is mind boggling! Why aren't you getting away from the saliva shower? Why do you have to touch blood to determine that it is indeed blood? It's ridiculous! Am I the only one irritated by this kind of writing?! I thought Eucella would find it all dumb too, but whenever I am in her office and talking about it, she always puts her head in her hands and makes a comment about how she has work to do. Really likes avoiding that subject, so she probably secretly likes that stuff. After all, she did write some pretty pulpy mushy stuff back in the day, so that might actually be her bread and butter. Oh, I am rambling again! Right! Back to the entry!

So why did I make this tale about someone getting dropped on by a giant slug? Because this entry is talking about a giant slug! The Spotted Keelback, to be exact! The Spotted Keelback is a species of, well, giant slug (doing great, Chlora), but it would be better to say that they are actually related to Carcolhs! Now do note, I did not say that they are Carcolhs, rather that they are related. As you can probably see, one group has a big ol shell on their back, while the Spotted Keelback very obviously doesn't. It seems they once shared a common ancestor, but eventually split and became the two different groups we see today. The Spotted Keelback does share some similarities in size and general anatomy, especially with that fierce radula of theirs! Developed into a very toothy mandible that can easily shred through skin and flesh. The main difference you can see is that they do not have the oral tendrils that Carcolhs have, rather their snout ends in stubby orifices or nozzles. These are why I talked about the warm sticky saliva up above (is it weird if I keep writing that? Not sure), as from these orifices come large amounts of gooey mucus. This stuff is similar to what coats the Lou Carcolh's oral tendrils, as it is like a fast acting adhesive once it makes contact with a surface. The difference here, though, is that this mucus is capable of forming long strands and webs, with incredible strength that can support the weight of the Spotted Keelback or human sized prey! Of course, it depends on the thickness of this gooey rope, as thin ones do more to entangle than actually lift up its food. This glue slime doesn't just come from their oral tubes, but from their foot and breathing pore too! It should be noted that while this mucus can grip prey and surfaces tightly, the Spotted Keelback can slither through this stuff effortlessly! It wouldn't be effective if they could get caught in their own trap!

From my earlier tale and talk of the glue snot, you can probably already guess how the Spotted Keelback hunts. Their mucus is used to snare and entangle prey, slowing them down or trapping them for the slug to come in and finish them off. They choose to hunt by ambush, typically waiting up in the thick branches above for prey to pass by down below. Their actual techniques in trapping prey can vary, as they have a few tricks. One is to find a clearing and drop thick puddles of this mucus on the ground, perfect for catching the legs of those who step in it. Another is to hang long strands of mucus down from the branches, often coated in leaves and detritus to look like random vines. Those who blunder through them will find these "vines" holding them fast, and their confusion and struggling is often enough to tie them up more and give the Keelback time to slink in. There is also the tactic of waiting in the branches and then shooting out a wide spray of mucus to shower down on prey like a gooey net. All very valid strategies! In most cases, the Spotted Keelback has created itself a long thick strand of mucus that it uses to hang itself from, suspending it in the air right above the target. When victims get tripped up, the Keelback will release its grip on this mucus rope and plunge down onto its meal. Its boneless nature means nothing gets broken from such a fall, but the same typically cannot be said for their prey. The sheer weight of a Keelback dropping on you can knock the wind out of you, break bones and leave you in a very bad situation. Its coating of mucus from its foot will affix them to prey, and their muscly body won't wait to coil around the victim and hold them tight. From there, fangs filled with paralytic venom will be jabbed in to fully stop their food from fighting back. And once they are rendered immobile, the fang-filled radula will be used to shred them into easy to eat chunks.

Since the jungle and rainforests are active places with a lot of hungry mouths, the Spotted Keelback will typically take its kill somewhere else to enjoy. They will coat it in mucus then slither up a tree carrying a long strand still connected to the carcass. Once up in the branches, the food is then pulled up and suspended mid-air. Now the slug can slither down and enjoy its meal in peace, as no large predators or scavengers can reach them in this position, and smaller ones risk getting caught in their glue trap! Kind of a beautiful way to eat, hanging in the air like that! Though elegance is far from the mind once they start digging in, as blood and meaty bits start flying and raining the ground down below. Smaller critters do love that part, darting into this meat shower for free scraps.

The slime strands they create and rappel from play a large part in their lifestyle. Obviously, it is big for hunting, but it is also how they escape predators, hold onto kills they cannot finish in one sitting and also do their whole reproduction thing. Like Carcolhs, Keelbacks are hermaphrodites, so any two of their species will do when it comes to mating! When the breeding season is on, the Keelbacks will lay down pheromone laced trails of slime wherever they go, as others can use it to follow them when they catch the scent. The individual as well will be looking for goo trails to track down mates, following it until they run into the secretor! Once two slugs meet, it is time for mating, which I must say is an incredibly beautiful display! It is truly a show you have to see to believe! Hopefully I am not sounding too weird about this. Actually, am I allowed to go into detail on this subject? Ah whatever, full speed ahead! Eucella will cut it out if she finds it inappropriate, but that is nature! Animals have sex, how do you think we get more animals?! So the two Keelbacks will create a long thick strand of mucus that hangs from high up in the trees. The two shall dangle from this strand and intertwine their bodies. Once they are suspend and wrapped around one another, they will evert their large, long and surprisingly colorful penises to inject the other with sperm. I would include a drawing of that, but I feel like I am already testing my luck with this description (I can already feel Eucella's red inked quill hanging above this whole section)! Like I said though, it is shockingly beautiful, and the end result is hundreds of eggs laid by each slug. These egg clusters are hung from sticky strands where predators cannot reach them. When the young hatch, it is up to them to fend for themselves.

Spotted Keelbacks are opportunistic predators that will happily try to eat anything that enters their trap, so that means humans are on the menu! Dryads are technically in danger too, as they will drop on any moving thing down below but won't know it tastes awful til they have their radula buried in our neck. With this, the species is feared by both locales and outsiders. Some folks call them "Jaguar Slugs" due to their large size, spotted pattern and carnivorous diet. Their glue slime is collected by some to serve as an adhesive, good for fusing two things together or repairing damage to homes, canoes and other things. Their meat is considered to be incredibly tender and delicious, and their hide is worn for ceremonial garbs or just straight up bragging rights. Hunting them typically calls for offering them a sacrifice, driving another animal into their trap so the Keelback descends upon them. Once it is distracted by this bait, the hunters rush in with spears and drive them in deep. Whatever weapons are used for this hunt should be ones you aren't afraid of losing, as when you plunge them in, good luck ever getting them out. One of the dangers of eating Spotted Keelback is finding a spear head or arrow tip in the middle of your meal. Some say finding one that was lost in a failed hunt is a sign of bad luck, which I find to be an understatement when you suddenly find yourself chewing on a spearhead.

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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"Spotted Keelback"

What else we need for Halloween? Snails and Slugs! Or more so just slugs!

#slug #gastropod #mollusk #monster #creature #art #drawing

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