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eclipsedpascal · 2 years

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Within This Room

Duncan Shepherd x Reader

You've been having a hard time the past little while, leading to you staying in bed for a several days straight whilst battling the demons that left you there; but you're worried about the effect your mental state is having on your boyfriend, Duncan.

Warnings: depression, crying, some self hatred bcs why not and themes of loneliness.

Notes: this is definitely the most depressing thing ever ever written, but there's also a good amount of fluff at the end dw😌 i'm working through some personal stuff at the moment and I found myself sitting down to write with no aim, this is the finished product. Just needed to write some comfort character Duncy:)

Word Count: 2.6k

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The Horizontal blinds did little to block the ambient lights of the late city below, casting silhouettes of themselves aline with the faintest of blue hues onto the bedroom's once grey walls. They tinted the room with a rather dull pigment, but one bright enough to slightly illuminate the dark and lifeless room they had seeped upon. Bleak, shadowed sheets appeared in creased mounds of cotton, piled over the fragile body buried deep within them, doing their most to bring warmth and comfort, but failing pathetically. The only other light in the dreary room came from the modest analogue clock which had found itself a home on the bedside nightstand but only a few months before, staying only in your mind as a constant reminder of the time that had managed to be wasted, cocooned inside the artificial closeness of those feather filled sheets.

The clock read 1:23; it’s luminous red writing shone brightly into the hole you had created in the covers so many hours before, only in effort to poke your face out enough as to not smother yourself after too long of breathing the same recycled air. The light lay against your despondent face, creating the illusion of what felt like the only heat source inside the gelid room. If it weren’t for logical reason, you would have come to the conclusion the space was growing colder every other minute for no purpose other than to spite you, that it was purposely keeping you from the warmth you craved so dearly. But it was the clock that mocked you; the only thing bringing you comfort within those unfeeling four walls and yet the thing that had been cruelly tormenting you the most.

Guilt consumed you for hiding in the sheets for the length of the day, only leaving the bed once to run to the bathroom after holding your bladder so long. You were convinced you’d given yourself UTI after procrastinating going to the bathroom merely 8 steps away for as long as you had. You at least grabbed a snack before returning to your blanketed residence for the foreseeable future, but you had found food wasn’t as easy to stomach in your current state than you had hoped it might be. It really shouldn’t have surprised you when the sugary food only aggravated your saddened and sickly state further.

The past few weeks had been difficult to say the absolute least. After striving to stay productive and denying your feelings of mental pain for as long a stretch as you had, not only your mind but your body had reached its breaking point, strain having left it empty of all its required energy. So after several days of uncompromising laziness leaving you bound to the large penthouse apartment with not even the power to think without wanting to fall right back to sleep; unless it was to scrutinise yourself of course, that you had all the time in the world for, you were perplexed at how you still managed to be exhausted when your lover would finally return from work.

In the past, whenever Duncan would prepare for work you would always do your absolute best to disrupt his compulsively detailed morning routine. Enticing him to stay in bed with suggestions of the many activities that could be pursued usually did the trick, or nagging him as he brushed his teeth in hopes it made him playfully pick you up and kiss you with toothpaste still smudged on lips to get back at you for your irritating behaviours, or helping him with breakfast and slyly pointing out how hard he had worked the day before, so perhaps he should just take some time off; I mean he was the boss after all.

It didn't matter what it involved, you would do anything to get more time with the man you loved so dearly, but recently you hadn’t the same motivation. The desperation you felt to be close to him was at an all time high, yes, but the guilt you felt over your newly depressed state and the effect you feared it may have on him left you pushing him away more than ever. What made it so much worse was that he didn't seem to mind, staying in his office till later, spending just a few more hours writing his emails at home on the sofa before coming to join you in bed than he usually would. What if he wanted this? To be apart from you more? Perhaps you had given him the glimpse he needed to realise you weren’t as important in his life then once believed.

The thoughts that spiralled themselves down the tangled and knotted up thread inside your mind had been growing more and more heart wrenching by the day. All you wanted was for him to hold you, and yet it was as if he had been manifesting the opposite. Today had been no different, if not worse.

He had left earlier than usual, the only memory of him from the morning being him kissing your half awoken form goodbye and murmuring words of love to you, a heart warming message if it hadn’t been for him working some of the longest hours known to man all day. Surely he knew now was when you needed him most? You always struggled when it came to telling people that you were down like you were now, but it never mattered with Duncan. He was always so in tap with you and your emotions due to how similar the both of you dealt with these kind of issues.

You had heard him come home in the late evening, his footsteps moving around the kitchen before pattering their way to his home office where they had been firm the rest of the night. Most the time he would check in on you after getting settled, but not tonight. Not even a word.

You couldn’t blame him for throwing himself into his work of course, you understood his recent aversion to you. You knew your attitude came off as insolent and arrogant, not even being able to hold a conversation with him without seeming uninterested and careless. If you hadn’t hurt him with your blasé and words, then your withdrawals from time spent together outside the bedroom had definitely done the job. You wished with all your power the ability to place your freezing, bare feet on the expansive wooden flooring, wanting nothing more than to visit him whilst he worked and apologise until you could feel your lips no more. It was as if you had entered paralysis, not being able to do anything other than lay on your side and feel your warm tears uncomfortably stream down the side of your face onto the now slightly dark puddled spot on the mattress as you stared at that damed clock.

You felt your face growing increasingly hot with a sour mixture of self hatred and guilt as you watched the digital numbers on its face change once more, but you had endured enough. Using all of your strength, you unsheathed your numbing arm from the fortress of fabric around you, gathering all of your might into its swing and striking your palm into the side of the clocks plastic body. It flew from its previously permanent spot on the table, impacting the wall of blue hues and shadows and shattering into a few rather large pieces.

The sudden clatter startled you, the only noise in the room up until this point having been your pitiable sobs and shallow breathing. The noise echoed through the room, forcing you to clench your eyelids shut and clentch up your face with regret. Opening your eyes, you noticed the still functioning red light was now open to the rooms stuffy air and far brighter than before, mixing with the walls icy tones and creating a rather dark purple as your frustrations rose to a level not known before and amounting in an overwhelming amount of tears flooding down your face.

What was once sobs had developed into cry’s you couldn’t hold in, Sniffing and wailing at your futile attempt to destroy the only thing in the room holding you accountable for your selfishness.

You distinguished the sound of urgent footsteps making their way down the long corridor to your bedroom before being interrupted by the door whooshing its way open. Duncan halted his steps as he entered the room, assessing the confusing situation he had walked into but never letting go of the doors silver handle. His eyes moved from the broken clock on the floor to the seemingly trembling lump of whimpering duvet on the bed before him.

His features dropped. His lips opening slightly and faltering before they could speak. brows creased, drooping as the deep rooted ache it brought him to see you in so much pain dragged them down. He slowly closed the door behind him, thinking about how to approach you next and hoping he wouldn’t just upset you further.

Trying to shield yourself from the impeding questioning Duncan would surely be pursing after your more than odd behaviour, you pushed your face down into the sheets and listened diligently to his steps, still bawling quietly when his weight created an imbalance on the bed next to you.

You felt his hand grace your leg through the duvet, stroking simple lines over your skin in attempt to calm your chaotic breathing. “What happened, sweetheart?” He asked gently, not really expecting an answer from you in your current state, but wanting to bring you out of your shell enough to see the face he missed so awfully.

You were frozen with anxiety, fighting yourself to speak up and explain what had happened, wanting to apologise profusely but not being able to squeak out a thing but whines.

Wanting to be closer, he adjusted where he sat next you and cautiously lifted the blanket from over your head, finding your cheek and immediately swiping away the trails of salty water that led from your closed eyes. “Y/n, please talk to me.” His voice cracked ever so slightly when he spoke. He slid a hand underneath your shaking body and lifted you up to his chest, cradling you as close as he could to himself and allowing you to rest your face on his shirt, dampening its expensive fabric with your lament.

He held you like that for a while, hushing you and rocking you back and forth as you began to even out your breathing. Drying tears had glued your eyelids together so much it hurt to finally open them and look up at Duncan’s concerned face. It pained you seeing him so filled with worry for you, and that was enough to push you into saying what you had been needing to for days now.

“I-i’m s-o, s-so sorry, i’m s-sorry.” Your words open the flood gates once more, blubbering into the collar of his shirt and grasping onto this shoulder and curls with your hands as you desperately attempted to apologise for your behaviour over and over again.

He let out an almost amused sigh at our words. “No, no, no. Look at me Y/N.” He held your face with both hands now, bringing it up towards his own and wiping your reddened cheeks yet again. “You have nothing too apologise for. Nothing.” He shook his head, punctuating his words as he held eye contact with your water filled eyes. “It’s not your fault you're struggling right now. Whatever it is you need to do to feel better, I want you to do that and not ever feel like you gotta apologise to me for it. Now if you feel like I can help you with any of those things, all I ask is that you tell me; But that is the only thing you ever have to say, got it? Don’t you dare apologise to me for hurting.” Feeling emotional himself, he kissed your face a few quick times and squeezed you into him as he finished talking, muffling your cries with his chest. “You’ve done nothing worth apologising over.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You never understood how you had gotten as lucky as you had with Duncan; why he had chosen you to love over others was a question you pondered often, but never came across an answer to. But his words still confused you, why had he been separating himself from you so frequently if this was truly the case? “I-i don’t understand” you got out between rapid breaths. “If I’ve n-nothing to apologise for, why have you been ke-keeping yourself from me so often?” You wiped your nose on your sleeve, sniffling up and awaiting an answer from him, but being far too nervous to look directly into his assessing eyes.

He moved his now disappointed gaze to those badly shut horizontal blinds in front of him, the lights of outside shining across all of his skins imperfections and reflecting against every stubble of hair in his beard. “That’ll of been my mistake.” He looked back at you almost apologetically. “I assumed you wanted space from me.”

You took in a shaky breathe. “But I’ve been w-withdrawn and cruel to you.” You looked up at him, opening your lips and beginning to mouth an ‘i’m sorry’ when he stopped you in your tracks. “Sweetheart you’ve done nothing of the sort. You’ve just been tired; never cruel.” He leant his forehead down on yours, closing his eyes and deeply breathing you in. It stung him to think you had spent your time locked up in this room with your own misery so long you’d managed to convince yourself of such things.

“Y/N, I love you.” You felt as if you were look into each others souls now, noses touching and eyes never parting. “I love you so much and I hate seeing you beat yourself up like you have.” The last tear you had left to cry finally pooled over your brimming eyelid at his words, too lost in his eyes to even notice its stream ending at the curve of your lips.

“I just don’t wanna feel like this anymore. I feel as if I’ll be stuck here forever with these feelings, stuck forever in this fucking room.” You looked around the space and what had become of it during you stay, suddenly wanting nothing more than to leave it.

Taking this opportunity to save you from your own mind, he spoke. “Come on then, let me run you a bath hm? Get some food after?” Duncan mused at you, eyes racing back and forth as they attempted to figure you out.

You looked back at him, holding onto his face with your hand and thinking about how much you had missed his touch during the touring time you spent in your own company. “T-that would be nice.” A small smile amounted on your face, the first in some time. Duncan noticed this, and couldn't help himself but lean down and kiss the first sign of happiness he’d seen on you in far too long. He didn’t take his lips of yours as he gathered you up in his arms, lifting you into his cradle and standing up from the now empty pile of deflated sheets.

He turned from where you had been residing on the bed, walking past the forgotten analog clock and its many reminders, to the closed bathroom door that when opened shone a bright and warming white light onto your face, half hidden in the crook of Duncans neck. Stepping into the cleansing rooms light, he watched as you breathed in a deep sigh of relief at the change in atmosphere, chuckling under his breathe at the smile you attempted to hide under his jaw.

He closed the door after him, finally leaving the consuming solitude of the dark and desolate room behind you.

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Thank you sm for reading!!:)💗

Tags: @celestialrequiem @ntxoza @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @blakescoven @ritualmichael @ghostangels @ferndolan @brattylovee @7-wonders @lavenderahs @9layerdevilfoodcake @chicaluna2410 @dailylangdon @kitty4860 @lovelylangdonx as always, I just tagged whoever I thought might be interested, but I haven't posted in a while its very likely I'm wrong!! so if you want to be removed or added from the tag list just lemme know:)

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x female reader #duncan shepherd x reader #older!duncan#older duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd imagine #daddy duncan #cody fern #cody fern fic #cody fern x reader #cody fern imagine #house of cards fic #my writing

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celestialrequiem · 3 years

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Days of Candy 2

Teaser Chapter 2

Summary: In the small town of Willowdale, Y/N finds her dull life as a waitress at a mediocre diner get a little more interesting when the mysterious and daunting Sheriff takes an interest in her.

This series will have dubious consent and sexual harassment. It is a dark story about a Corrupt Sheriff’s who manipulates so if you are uncomfortable with that please don’t read!

This story also deals hugely with sexism as its based in the 60s.

He thought maybe that’s why you liked Xavier, he bought a similar red jacket as James Dean from the film several days after meeting you. Xavier also had that rebel vibe to him. He remembered his friend as well being a fan of Marlon Brando hence why he wanted to be an actor. To move out of the suburbs, to go to the dreamland..to Hollywood with you. You used to always want to be around him, he didn’t let the deputies patrol the drive in, since he always saw you there with him. He hated seeing you with his friend but he can’t help himself, he wanted to always be near you, see you and to one day feel your skin on his skin.

He hated how you and Xavier were like Natalie Wood and James Dean. The perfect couple.

His jaw clenched and his brows furrowed as he starts to get jealous over a dead man.

You noticed his face seems boiling from rage as his hands gripped forcibly the steering wheel…you don’t know why. Scared to ask so you just continue gazing at the view in locomotion from the car window, as your sheer scarf around your head blowing from the impact of the wind.

You loved the aftermath of the rain, the order after the chaos.

Author’s note:

Chapter hopefully coming this week 😭, I sadly have a lot happening in my personal life so fingers crossed i have this done by the end of this weekend. It still is in the editing mode.

Also if you haven’t watched Rebel Without a Cause, Xavier’s red jacket reminds me so much of James Dean’s in that film.

reference photo (i have this poster in my room hehe)

(Duncan has a housewife kink so obviously and misogyny kink but just to be safe lmao)

tagging some gals (who want to be tagged or who might be interested, let me know if you wanna be removed) : @guiltyfiend @instincts-baby @9layerdevilfoodcake @beautyiswithinchaos @langdons-pinkyring @bloodcoatedeclipse @plymptxn-reborn @5am-cigarette @anakinsslag @michaellangdonstanaccount @rexellaaa @jimmason @devilish-hecate @angelicmichael @car241 @kitty4860 @deliciousartpoliticsdean

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divine-angel-langdon · 3 years

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inspired by the 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝒾 series by @7-wonders

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd moodboard #mood board #crimeboss!duncan #memento mori #7-wonders #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd fics

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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Below, you will find my complete Crossovers masterlist! It includes prompts, drabbles, series, one-shots, concepts, headcanons, and MORE, regarding various crossovers of different television shows and movies!

* Copyright @wroteclassicaly - Do NOT redistribute, post to another platform, translate, or plagiarize my work (this includes AI) — under any circumstances! Reblogs, comments/feedback are ALWAYS appreciated! *

* Note: I do NOT claim ownership for the tv/movie universes I write about, or their established characters! *

My library blog

Main Masterlist

Key:

❤️‍🔥 = smut

💔 = angst, depression, & anger

💝 = fluff & comfort

Series titles are in bold red

Appropriate warnings and tags will ALWAYS be added!

When the Tide Meets the Shore - (Andy Dolan x Jim Mason x Fem!Reader) 💔💝❤️‍🔥

Series Teaser - ❤️‍🔥💔

Listen to That - (Michael Langdon x Duncan Shepherd x Fem!Reader) ❤️‍🔥

#my work #my writing #kristenwrites #crossovers #crossover fic #andy dolan #jim mason #michael langdon #duncan shepherd #andy dolan x reader #jim mason x reader #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader

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daadddysprincessss · 3 years

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Bonfire nights

Parings: Jim mason x y/n

Summary: takes place in the past - the first memories you had of jim. Most likely a 2 or 3 part series

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

taglist: @ghostiesbedroom @lovelylangdonx @queencocoakimmie@langdonsinferno @peachesandfern @gold-dragon-slayer @charlottelouise135 @hplotrfan @rosegoldrichie @taryn-just-happened @rocketgirl2410@little-grunge-flowerz @ccodyfern @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonsoceaneyes @sojourne @starwlkers @bellejeunefillesansmerci (hope its okay if i tagged you)

You sat on your favourite rock - close enough to hear the waves crash at the other rocks beneath you - but far enough for the water not to reach you, it was where you first met - Jim.

At the other end of the beach you could hear laughing in the distance, it reminded you of the late nights with Jim and his friends - you would watch them from afar, they always seemed to be laughing and having fun by the bonfire - you were a watcher.

-2 months ago-

You watched and listened to Jim and his friends for what seemed like forever - you wanted to be like them - outgoing, goofy, sporadic- you were neither of those things, they just seemed like a really cool crowd of people. But one night it was all about to change - Jim saw you sitting alone as he slowly walked down the mini trail that lead into the bay-

“Hey - you alright” Jim called out from behind you

You turned your head slightly to see who it was - “yeah im fine” - Jim had messy brown curls, bright ocean eyes you could see from a mile away - and he was always in that jean jacket, it suited him so well. This was your first memory of Jim - of course you saw him at school but you never actually talked to him.

“Wanna come join our fire” jim asked softly as he walked towards you

You turned to face him then immediately looked over at the huge bonfire - “its not really my scene over there” you laughed - you could hear ms popular heathers laugh above them all.

Jim laughed - “its not mine either but its a lot less lonely”

You pulled your jacket tighter to your body - “maybe” you spoke softly - you did have a small crush on Jim, he was kind and sweet (from what you could see).

Jim crouched down beside you - “the offer is always standing love” he smiled as he looked out into the ocean with you.

“Thanks” you smiled - “im y/n” you spoke softly

“Jim - Jim mason” he smiled - god there's that smile. Jim knelt there for a few more minutes then got up walked towards his mini party -

“Bye Jim” you said quietly to yourself

Its been a few days since you’ve seen Jim in the bay of palos - but you would see and hear his mum pacing back and forth yelling at the bay boys (jims friends) for being so damn loud at night, but you had hoped to see him again..

-2 weeks pass by-

You decided to change it up and go out to the bay earlier - you wanted to soak in the sun… for once - today was different, it was quiet and calm, the tide was low, there was not a segal near to hear, but the best part was there was no bay boys, just Jim and his twin sister Medina surfing. Jim and Medina were basically attached at the hip - but they have such different personalities, Jim was a ‘follower’ and Medina had a strong personality, I guess their relationship was unique.

Both of them made surfing look so easy, you could never ! on the best of days you were lucky not to trip over your own 2 feet.

“HEY” Jim yelled from what seemed like the middle of the bay - his hand was waving at you

You had your legs stretched out with a book in your hand - homework of course - for a second you didnt realize Jim was waving at you, “what? Me??!” you yelled back at him

Medina waved her hand to come join them - “I'M STUDYING” you yelled back while holding your book up.

An hour or so went by without any disturbance from the mason twins, it was nice - peaceful. You could help but think of what Jim looked like while out on the ocean, and the texture of his hair - he probably smelt of salt water - his beautiful chocolate curls probably look amazing after being in the water all afternoon.

“Hey sunshine - how've you been” Jims voice boomed from above you while he blocked your sun-

“I've been well - how about yourself mason” you looked up at him - “it been awhile” you laughed.

“Yeah yeah - it's good to be back, but hey - you still owe me” Jim smiled

“Excuse me - owe you what ?” you questioned him, then yourself

“You said maybe to coming to a bonfire and i didnt see you at the last 2 we had, so your coming tonight” jim smiled as he unzipped the top half of his wetsuit

“Tonight? I - im uh busy” you tried to make an excuse - he was a gift sent from god, the way the water droplets fell down his shoulders onto his chest - it made it hard to concentrate

Jim laughed - “i'll come pick you up, lets say 8pm?”

Its like he didn't even give you a choice - “uh - sure, yeah that works”

“Its the blue house yeah?” jim asked as he pointed to the blue-ish white house with no fence

“Yep - thats me” you laughed

“Its a date” Jim smiled as he picked up his board and walked away

“A - date” you whispered to yourself

Within seconds of realizing you were going on a mini date with Jim freaking Mason you stood up and grabbed your belongings and literally ran up the hiking trail - you needed to get ready, to shower, pick out an outfit, hair, makeup - but there just felt like there was not enough time.

When you got into your bedroom you dropped everything on the floor and headed to your dresser -- you picked out a pair of black ripped jeans, and paired it with a pale yellow graphic tee, for shoes you would probably just wear your vans - who cares if they were dirty, they were old anyways. As for your hair you sprayed some dry shampoo at the root and a texture spray throughout - the messy style just fit you perfect.

‘Y/n! - theres a young man at the door for you” you mother called out

“Already?” you spoke quietly to yourself - you quickly grabbed your cell, and a pony… just incase.

It felt like you ran down the stairs but you knew you werent it was just moving so fast - “hi Jim” you smiled when you met him at the bottom

“You look - wow” Jim smiled at you

There it was - that smile, it melted your heart - maybe cause it was the way his eyes smiled with his mouth - or maybe cause he just seem genuinely happy.

“Shall we ?” jim held his hand out for you

Your fingers interlocked his and he quickly pulled you out the front door - “arent we taking this path” you questioned jim as he walked past the short cut down -

“No” he shook his head as he kept walking with you

Something didnt feel right, you have never seen jim take the long before - “jim where are we going”

“Down to the bay - where just gonna take a different path, i dont wanna share you with anyone yet”

“Share me?” you raised a brow

“Yeah - your the dark mysterious girl, and i like that.”

“Jim your freaking me out” your feet stopped in place

“Im sorry - i didnt mean to freak you out - i just wanna get to know you better before my friends rip me away’ his voice cracked

“Oh-” your voice was low - “so your just gonna ditch me with a bunch of random popular girls?”

“Oh god no - medina, my sister will be there. And besides your staying by my side.” Jim smiled

You nodded your head and proceeded walk behind jim - the both of you walked in silence for a moment, you reached the top of the bay -

“y/n”

“Yeah jim” you looked up at him

“I really like you - i kinda always have.” jims eyes locked to yours

#jim mason #jim mason x reader #jim mason x you #jim mason x female reader #cody fern #The Tribes of Palos Verdes #topv #michael langdon #michael langdon x you #michael langdon x reader #ahs #Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd blurb #duncan shepherd x you #duncan shepherd x female reader #duncan shepherd fic #michelal x female

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chaos-is-beautifvl · 3 years

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to anyone interested, here’s a little snippet of the detective!Duncan Shepherd fic I’m working on based off no body, no crime by taylor swift

—

The curtain came to a close, the velvety red fabric signaling an end to the night. A man, dressed in a black trench coat topped with a likewise black fedora, with his hands tucked in his pockets to protect himself from the bitter winter, walked out of the theater. It was like a scene from a movie, the protagonist, a mysterious man in a foreign town, coming to solve a mystery. Rather, it wasn't a mystery as he had it all figured out. They didn't say he was the best for no reason.

What was the mystery at hand? Well, when a man goes missing without a word, without a trace, it raises some questions. Especially when the woman, who was the sole beneficiary of his will, is the talk of the town.

Questions arose the same way you raised your glass to your lips while preparing dinner. It was nothing fancy; despite your relationship with the missing man, you were a simple person, at least that's what you'd like to think of yourself. You didn't like social interaction all that much, instead preferring to curl up on the couch and watch television. You didn't like ignorant men because what did they have to offer to the world anyway. And, what you most despised, was the people in the goddamn town.

Stirring the spaghetti sauce in the pan, you looked to the clock, the rhythmic ticking holding your attention until the clock struck eight. A content hum left you as you made idle work of turning the burner off and setting the pan off to the side to cool.

As you finished cleaning off the counter, there was a knock at the door. Looking back to the clock, you noted the time: 8:10 — just as you’d figured.

Wiping your hands clean, you strolled through the house to the front door. Before another knock could sound, you turned the handle and cold wind of the air came round.

“Well, hello, there, Detective.”

With a hand raised in a fist, ready to rap against the wood, the aforementioned mysterious protagonist stood on your doorstep.

—

#duncan shepherd #my writing #duncan shepherd x reader #no body no crime fic #duncan shepherd fic

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myfavouritelunatic · 1 year

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I was tagged by both @helenvader and @pursuitseternal ❤️ thank you so much! 🥰

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, do not be shy and share anyway. ❤

So some of this will definitely be from things I haven’t published, or maybe even unfinished projects. Let’s see what the archives cough up...

1. Talk of the elf and the low man's arrival in Númenor had been rampant. (from The Blacksmith)

2. As I entered the dungeon to complete my usual cleaning duties, the first thing I noticed was that I was not alone as I had been the night before. (from the untitled cell fic)

3. “Fighting at your side I... I felt... if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being then I...” Halbrand let his voice trail off, suddenly afraid of how Galadriel would react if he finished his words. (from I Felt It Too)

4. Galadriel gazed longingly at the silver ring upon her finger. (part one of the Saurondriel companion pieces, which I’m now calling Two Rings)

5. There was only one being the dark lord’s mind was concerned with. (part two of the Saurondriel companion pieces, which I’m now calling Two Rings)

6. Galadriel wears two faces. (from an untitled WIP)

7. The sunrise woke you, it’s orange beams flowing through your window, bathing the room in early morning light. (from Mark Me, a Michael Langdon x Female Reader one shot)

8. You heard the door slam, jolting you out of your melancholic stupor. (from Your Strength, a Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader one shot)

9. The tick tick ticking of the clock. (from an unpublished and untitled Llewyn Davis x Female Reader one shot)

10. Darkness... an abyss... neverending... Steven... Marc... Jake... falling in... and pulling you down with them... (from Your Knight, an unpublished Moon Knight system x Female Reader one shot - which I COMPLETELY FORGOT I had written, and I might just publish it now 😂)

Tagging, with no pressure whatsoever: @honeyfarts666 @gil-galadhwen @nenyabusiness @lettalady @maeve-curry-writes @vellichormybeloved @bad-surprise @formerlyir @haladriel and anyone else who wants in! ❤️

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

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It Was Fun Till It Lasted

Duncan Shepherd x F1 Pilot Female! Reader

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I have been a bit silent the latest weeks, but I just got hit by the inspiration train as of lately (even more after all the F1 glory we have been getting) and I just thought about a small drabble, about Duncan in the race car universe.

Not as a driver, but more like a sponsor.

This is very PWP, even for my sentimental ass, so I do hope that you’ll like it, even though it isn’t the most perfect thing ever (just to warn you).

Also I just wanted to give @guiltyfiend a big shoutout because she has been a constant source of inspiration for me with various fics (‘Quid Pro Quo’ has been the main reason why for the existence of this drabble) so do check out her lovely fics!

I am also personally, maybe (since I don’t feel apprecciated in the other fandoms I am in) of making a few comebacks in this fandom, if any of you would like iit obviously!

So, please, if you want more, don’t forget to leave some kind of feedback I truly apprecciate it from the bottom of my heart and it’ll truly make my heart beat stronger and my fingers write faster!

Don’t ever ever forget to support your beloved writers with feedback, if you liked what they wrote!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Galas can be annoying things, but when an handsome fellow accidentally drenches you in champagne there are many ways your night might change.

WORDS: 5,4 K

WARNINGS: Mention of Sexism, Misogyny, Harassment On The Workplace, Inaccurate Portrayal of The F1 World, Inaccurate Way Of Cleaning Champagne From Clothes, Sex, Slight Dirty Talk, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Sex Between Strangers.

You sipped slowly from the flute of champagne you had managed to steal, meanwhile your boss wasn’t looking, since you had been instructed to avoid getting yourself drunk till you got the trophy in your hand, to avoid replacing the ‘drunk Kimi meme’ in the F1 world.

But it was difficult for you, an introvert, to feel at ease in a room full of different people.

A few of them were gladly ignoring you, but more were looking at you like you were some kind of freak in a costume, which was probably the best description for being one pilot of the only all-female team existing in F1.

You had grown up with the myths of Ayrton Senna and Niki Lauda, thanks to your grandfather and his the passion for fast cars and elegant ones, raising you as some kind of substitute to him, who had never been able to race, having had various problematics with his own health.

An heartattack at seventy had taken him away, just as you signed your first contract with the F2.

You had been partnered with a male pilot, and although the car wasn’t the fastest, you had managed to become much better than your partner, eventually getting yourself fired because females, in a place like F1, couldn’t raise to fame, throwing you in a depression that had brought you almost on the verge…

… but then your newest F1 stable had brought you back, giving you a car that wasn’t definitely one of the best you could have gotten but it had gotten you through a nice first season, and you had actually arrived at the sixth position in the constructors’ championship, alongside your partner…

… who, right now, didn’t look less bothered than you, at this fancy party.

But Abigail could definitely hold the curious gazes better than you.

You might have needed something more than champagne to get through a night like this.

You had begged your stable director to just bring Abigail, the social butterfly out of the two of you, but he had just insisted that ‘having two beauties on his arm would have done him and the stable more good than just one’.

And aside from the blatantly sexist part of the comment, you knew he was right.

Sponsors had been rushing to you this season because the media had focused much attention on the importance of new female figures in races, but now that the novelty was rushing off a few had decided to let you go, so you had to grab a few new ones, convincing them through either the use of your talk and your feminine charm.

‘… I had almost thought that he’d ask us to sleep with the sponsors to get them to stay’ had commented Abigail, as you both set yourself up for the night, the elegant rented dresses waiting for you on the comfortable bed of the expensive suite of the hotel ‘… it was this close to becoming an episode of ‘Law & Order: SVU’.

And now Abigail was being her usual chatty with a few sponsors fawning around her, as you tried to down the flute of champagne almost as if it was a full bottle of vodka, something that you honestly missed and stared at the expensive drink in the glass.

If only your glare could turn it in something that would give you more liquid courage.

A few of the rookies had been tried to talk with you and you had been extremely happy to have someone approach you, but soon the chat had diffused itself and all the drivers had been called back by their own director, and you had found yourself alone, again, and with annoying stares upon you.

Many of the pilots from the other stables had tried to get you in bed with them, and you knew that there were various bets going on about getting you or Abigail to finally relent your ‘haughty pretenses’, not to talk about the fact that the entire media platform and magazines had been set up on you and Abigail, waiting for any false step of yours.

You had been dubbed ‘the sole chance for feminism to raise’ and everyone was waiting for you to fall.

To prove that F1 wasn’t female territory.

So, you had been rigorously swearing off any coupling with the other drivers.

The fact that you found it already quite difficult to combine your training and the various galas you had to attend with an healthy social life, certainly did help with the whole ‘chastity promise’ thing.

And you never regretted such a choice during the race season.

The ‘no sex’ rule helped you during the competition, keeping your mind in the game, but now that the driving season was ended and you were finally enjoying your well-deserved holiday, you couldn’t help but hate thoroughly the situation you had landed yourself in, only able to rely on your hand and a few interesting toys.

But otherwise, utterly frustrated.

And yet unable to come up with a solution on such a short notice.

Dicks didn’t grow up on trees, these days.

You just bumped in them, apparently.

Because, as you were halfway through having your second drink of the night, counting on the fact that the director of your stable was halfway through a successful talk with some well-dressed older gentlemen, hence making him quite busy already and unable to check up on you, you clashed against a wall.

A wall of muscles, at a second glance.

A breathing wall of muscles, at third glance.

But you were far more interested by the fact that the bump-in had just made you spill your entire drink on your Givenchy rented dress, the one that costed more than your apartment rent, something that made a loud ‘shit’ leave your mouth and making the ‘wall of muscles’ raise his head towards you, as he noticed the stain.

And then, when you noticed that ‘wall of musclea’ had a pretty face and an even prettier body, a softer ‘shit’ left your mouth.

What a way to make an impression.

“Oh Gosh, I am sorry!” American accent, no British accent.

That was probably where Mother Nature had drawn in blessing him with all the ‘fucking handsome man’ gifts.

His handsome face was elegantly touched up by high cheekbones and feature that had something of roguish matched with elegant traits and darker colors, making him stand out as someone who wasn’t definitely a pilot or a journalist.

Which was ideal for you.

Such an refined face was matched with an elegant tailored body, the suit definitely made for him and him solely, knowing perfectly how to highlight each and every trait of a body that was obtained through attentive work, a careful one that was meant to impose itself or pump his muscles with no aim, but to give him a lean appearance of power.

That definitely worked with you.

“… oh” brain to Earth, brain to Earth, (Y/N), say something intelligent ‘… it was an accident’.

Tell that to the lady that will want the dress back.

But for now, that wasn’t your main concern.

Which was the handsome man in front of you.

But you couldn’t just hump him right there, not only because you were pretty sure that it would have been described as ‘sexual harassment’, but all the spotlight was set up on you, hence all the cameras were focused on every little small mistake you could have done, intensifying them in a way that didn’t happen with men.

You had to be perfect, but even more than that.

You had to be the male everyone thought you were, although you lacked of the attributes.

So, flirting was considered a hellish sin.

“Gosh, I am… extremely sorry” he repeated again, as his eyes shared a quick glance with yours, and you just nodded your head as if you had to confirm to him that you had heard him clearly the first time, before ducking to the restroom, hoping to be able to scrub away the stain, at least to avoid its yellowish color on the stark white of your dress.

But before you could start raising the dress off your legs, where the stain was more evident, you were followed inside by the man, and before you could utter any protest, he caught the ones in your eyes.

“I swear I am not a creeper” he raised his hands as if to reinforce this “… I just… you shouldn’t scrub on silk, it’ll just ruin the fabric, just ran the water and then wait for it to dry, some alcohol and a bit of bleach might also help, the stain will come out, with a single wash… I swear”.

You had a million questions for the stranger, unsure if you shouldn’t have already screamed at him for having entered the ladies restroom, but you just assumed that he was the first handsome guy ever to come with a cute personality.

And good domestic knowledge.

That was meant to always do something to a lady.

“… thank you” you settled on uttering, comforted by the fact that the guy turned around to leave you some privacy, but you couldn’t just let go such an opportunity, even more when you were in some kind of secluded area, and he didn’t look like the type that had a secret go-pro camera under his clothes.

Some girl that you had once met in a bathroom at one of the races had turned out to have one, as she egged on commenting some shit over Abigail.

Unluckily for her, Abigail was in the other stall and she had flushed in the noisiest way the water, before appearing with some kind of triumphant aura around her.

“… can you please stay?” ‘people will probably doubt you on your “abilities” if you come out after five minutes’ you almost wanted to utter, as a test to know if he looked just like a sex god or he fucking was, although with the way his cheeks blushed of a light red, you simply bit down on your tongue “… just to help me get the stain off, properly… you seem to know much more than me about it”.

“Things happen in college” he commented, as if it was an explanation.

What kind of parties had he been in college?

You just remembered the rush to grabbing the cheapest and most efficient alcohol.

He reached out as kindly as he could to start on the farthest part of your dress, where it wasn’t straight up skin tight, gently dabbing it with a piece of paper you had handed him, the fabric destroying itself on the dress, but the stain became a bit less prominent.

Enough to pass as some kind of enrichment the stylist had done on the dress at the last minute.

You hoped you could make the lady that had rented it to you buy this shit off too.

Because you either managed to get the stain out or get yourself a sponsor for the new year, or you’d have had to probably start living on the road, with only a few shining trophies for losers, such as the one you were supposed to grab tonight, for ‘best promising team’.

As if there was some kind of competition, between your small team and various established ones…

“… what are you doing at such a party?” you knew that conversation during this kind of thing would have gotten it to seem less sexual than it truly was, and although you were as good at small talk as you were at handling a crowd, you did your best to sound as relaxed as you could be.

But your question still sounded like one out of a police interrogation.

“Friend of a friend” it was more like meaning ‘none of your business’ but kinder, and you couldn’t deny his own right to privacy “… by the way, I do think that I should give you my name… in case you want someone to curse for the dress, I am Duncan”.

“I am (Y/N)” you were glad when no light of recognition shone in his eyes, just as his hand lightly grabbed the back of your upper thigh, to make the dress adhere perfectly to your skin and dab the stain more properly, a light shiver at the touch made you understand how truly touch-starved you had been “… and you look as out of place as me in this fucking gown”.

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” and he lightly leaned in closer to you, enough that you could feel the strong but comforting perfume of his cologne, something that smelt extremely male and yet, you couldn’t detect a trace of toxic masculinity in it “… I have never seen a single race of F1 in my life”.

Just what you needed.

“… oh tell me about it” you played coy, as his hands raised up from your legs skillfully avoided your ass, instead choosing to grip on the outer part of your hip, handling you with care but a sureness that made you want to relent the whole ‘male image’ you had created around you.

What would you have given for a night in which you didn’t have to be the one in control, constantly checking every detail!

“… neither a fan of the whole race panorama?” he asked, as his eyes trained themselves on your stomach, barely covered by the white of the dress, showing him a bit of skin behind it, exactly as the absence of your panties, a crazed decision of Abigail, who had thrown away your seamless granny pants.

‘They might be protective when we race, but these are shit’.

You knew you shouldn’t have lied to him about not belonging in the racing setting, but you just wanted to have one night in which you weren’t the prodigy, the promise, ‘the sole chance for freedom to raise’.

You just wanted to be (Y/N).

“Definitely not”.

“Brought here by a boyfriend?” now he was scanning his own ground, and he had a small break from his cleaning duties, as you caught a glimpse of that damned profile, the kind of thing you saw on expensive old coins.

He was definitely some kind of emperor in his own right.

“Nope” you mumbled, before you gave him back his own same coin “… just brought here by a friend of a friend”.

He smirked at his words being spit back at him and you smiled almost foolishly.

You even let out a soft giggle.

How fucking long had it been since you had giggled?

And done it because you honestly wanted.

And not because you were forced in front of journalists or potential sponsors.

His hands were now on the side of your chest, against the slight hill of your bra (you could have forsaken panties, but you needed that support), his hands lightly tracing the ridge of the silicone part where the bra stood attached to your skin, sweaty due to the fact that you had been wearing the whole thing for five hours, before of the event.

“… and you had an idiot spill a drink over it, in the span of an hour” the words were meant for self-deprecation, but the smile that accompanied him was utterly confident.

Had you had panties, they would have definitely hit the ground soundly in that moment.

“… it could have been worse” you mumbled, just as your eyes twinkled with secret meaning.

‘You could have been a complete twat or old enough to be my grandpa’

“… you couldn’t have known how to get out champagne stains” you joked, settling up on a more PG-13 comment, unsure of what to do, since it had been quite some time since you had last flirted, and although his hand told you a story, you weren’t exactly sure if he had gotten all the clues of the game.

He laughed so brilliantly that also a light blush joined your soft giggle.

“Gosh, that would have been awful” his tone was joking, but his eyes were onto you, as they searched some kind of confirm in yours, and you just had to lean in to sign the deal, leaning down to kiss him.

You had never been one for one-night-stands and neither for quick fucks in a restroom, but with the way he lightly gripped you, making sure to position you on top of the elegant porcelain sink, careful to avoid the water: it wouldn’t have been neither.

And you were completely swept away.

He definitely passed the ‘kiss’ test.

His hand went through your hair perfectly, but careful of the small updo you had done, his fingertips lightly scraping the baby hair on your upper neck, in a way that kept you grounded, just as his lips lightly bit onto your upper lips, leaving you wanting for more, just as he backed away with a cunning smirk.

One that spoke of that technique never failing.

And before he could perform again that cocky enchantment, you kissed him.

Releasing on him entire months of sexual frustration.

And you had to say that you surprised him, enough that you were worried that your suddenness would have scared him, but he just needed to regain the control, before his hand without any care went to mess up your updo, in a way that instead of grounding and relaxing you, made you tense up, just as his hand splayed your knees wide onto the sink to have him come up between them.

And after the passionate kiss you had been sharing, you found yourself quickly locked, with one that gripped you by the hair against the cold mirror and another one splayed on your knee

The fabric of your silk dress lightly caressed the skin of your inner thigh, right as his elegant and expensive pants did the same with your core, making you feel that you shouldn’t have seriously worried about the ‘five minutes thing’, or at least you hoped.

But the package seemed fucking good.

“… so, would you like to have a bit more of help?” the way he pronounced the word ‘help’ sounded downright sinful and how could a girl deny him, as your own hands moved to gently tap on his sharp cheeks, the scratchiness of a cleanly shaved beard making you feel like this was all real.

“Just don’t get my dress dirty” it was a whisper, but your eyes played with the dominance you wanted to relent to him, and he just looked intrigued.

“Then spread your legs properly, little one” and as if under a spell they opened properly and let him adjust himself against them as his hands lightly raised up to collect the dress away from your legs, stopping right up on your hips and leaving a bit of dress to cover you, as if he had to leave you some modesty “… good girl”.

You purred at that, leaning in the light petting of his grip having become less pronounced as a grip and more a caress.

“… I saw you out there in the crowd and I wanted to buy you a drink, because you looked at unease as me, I thought that you could use that” he commented as his face lightly moved down to the crook of your neck, his nose making a teasing trail down your profile, just as his beard lightly scratched your skin, making it redden simply for his lips, before he covered it of purplish bruises “… I thought I had done the worst thing ever since with pouring a drink over you”.

“… couldn’t stay mad when you fucking looked like a sex god” you muttered unable to deny the truth, your body arching right against his as his hands, gently dragged he strap of your dress down your shoulders, revealing the awful skin-like bra, but he just seemed focused on your collarbones, his hand working slowly to ease the bra away from you, eventually dropping it onto the small tissues box over both of your heads, so it wouldn’t get on the ground.

An attentive gesture, exactly as the way he gripped tightly your breast, making sure that your nipples were lightly caressed by his thumb, right as he bit down on the softer flesh of your neck.

“I am glad that my good looks were of some use” he joked, and gently looked up at you “… and let me tell you, I have a tongue that will make you forget all about my clumsiness”.

“I do think that I deserve an apology” you muttered, as your eyes met again, your lashes cornering perfectly your hazy eyes, breathy and soft “… a vocal apology”.

And he simply smirked down at you, falling on his knees with a sound thud, as you pushed yourself further down the sink you were on, till you felt the painful dig of the faucet in your back, enough to make you moan in protest, but soon the look of wonder on his face as he unveiled the secret underneath your dress was definitely a relief against the uncomfortable position.

“… didn’t know that you were one of those girls that go without panties” he pushed a knee up on you to spread you further to him, as he took in the proper masterpiece that had been revealed to him down there, and his kisses moved up on your inner thigh “… look like the pretty girl turned out to be a bad bad girl, no wonder I am about to fuck you like a fucking bitch in heat in a restroom”.

And you blushed at the profane words.

But it was just more endearing for you as he pushed himself to properly settle against the nest between your legs, already oozing soft milk and sweet honey, his lips lightly pushing against your own, as he dragged the same beard you had felt on your cheeks against your cunt, the sensation making you hiss, right as again your lips came to soothe your ache.

The plumpness of his lips made you unable to stop yourself from moaning out loud, your eyes closing just as he delivered a slap to your thigh, a silent warning to keep your eyes trained on him and you did, as his lips sucked your softest piece in his mouth.

His tongue was instead a blessing inside of you and this time you were the one delving a bit of pain to him, as you grabbed strongly his hair, some kind of relief to keep you grounded as your body became like a cloud, weighted down just by the tension in your whole muscles.

“Fuck, you do know how to have fun” he mumbled tightly, as he released your cunt, something that made you protest loudly “… when was the last time somebody fucked you this good, (Y/N)”.

And before you could properly reply, his finger slipped inside you, making you hiss out at the feeling of being full, so unlike the stretch of your own fingers, so slight that now you needed a minute to calm yourself from everything, as you waited to answer his reply.

And he gave you a moment to breath, before his finger lightly probed further, reaching inside with a wayward gesture that made you choke up on your own words, as your back arched against the mirror and the hand that wasn’t in his hair gripped so tightly the sink that you were sure you had left an acrylic nail there.

“… a long time for sure” he smirked so devilishly that it broke you thoroughly.

And then his tongue matched his finger and before you knew it your floating was interrupted by your skyrocketing to the ground in a pleasurable trail that brought you back to all the earthly pleasure you could ask for, leaving you numb and tensed, your eyes rolling back as you lost sight of what was going on with you.

And then as you regained, your legs were slack over Duncan’s sides, his lips teasing again the skin of your neck, but no intention to punish you with any pain or tease you, instead there was a desperate soothing in his gestures, as you slowly came back to reality.

Fuck, you honestly should do this more.

Sadly, half of the guys that wanted a hook-up wouldn’t have ever done anything like what Duncan just did with you.

And would probably last five minutes, indeed.

“… was that enough of an apology?” he asked as soon as he saw that you had regained some semblance of calmness.

“Definitely yes” not that you could reply with much more.

Your fingers spoke louder as they went to his belt, undoing it with a bit of problem since you were slightly trembling, but he tried his best to let you do it, but before you could lower the pants, he gently grabbed your hands, something soft in his eyes, as he made you look up at him.

“We don’t have to do this…”.

“Oh, c’mon…” you mumbled, but his question was sincere and you couldn’t help but blush lightly “… I am pretty sure I want to do this”.

He mumbled softly, as he grabbed something from his back pocket, as you lightly lowered pants and boxers in one move,

And you weren’t disappointed,

He was definitely a big guy.

Larger than longer, with a light curve that made you painfully ache for having him inside of you, already half-hard, and your hand gently moved up and down on him, in a gentle foreplay that was completely uninterested about the knocking on the door, eventually dissipating in curses.

“… gotta be quiet baby” he commented, as he pushed his wallet on the side of the sink, getting a condom out of it, something for which you were thankful, because although you were on birth control, he was a complete stranger to you, and although the thrill of it just made it all just more daring, you would have preferred avoiding anything that might have given you an awful month “… I don’t know if you will, since I’ll make you feel fucking good”.

You just smirked at him, with a smile that told him ‘I can take it, sweetheart’.

And he just silenced it with pushing himself inside of you.

The penetration gave you an unpleasant stretch, and you needed a minute, as your whole body shifted against him, completely pushing himself in your arms, and to his credit he didn’t do much more than steady you, as he gave you the time to adjust yourself on him, till your whole body relaxed but your own insides.

Gripping him tighter.

Goading him closer and deeper.

And he gently set up a slow rhythm, making you feel each inch of him, till you were hypnotized with the way his hips moved against you, his upper body lightly stroking your clit, as wetness oozed down him, lubing him up, as he took up more speed and you found your back pushed against the mirror with such intensity that you were sure it would have been broken soon.

But you couldn’t give a fuck.

He gently pushed you in another position turning you around, so that you could face the mirror, meanwhile he took you from behind, the angle being deeper and the slight curve of his cock hitting the perfect spot.

And the fact that you could see yourself being fucked by him was only a bonus.

The way his face became so deformed by pleasure gave it all some kind of dreamish state, as the pleasure intensified desperately and you were there just on the right spot, but not enough stimulation was there for you, till he brought a finger in your mouth, and you sucked him inside, looking at the wanton expression on your face, before you closed your eyes.

And pleasure overtook you.

It didn’t take him too much time for him to finish alongside you, as his hand lightly went in your hair again, pushing as a way to grip on reality for a last time and your muscles spasmed around you, desperately and tightly in a way that almost made you wonder how it would have felt to have his seed on you.

And not in a plastic wrapper.

But for now that was all you could do.

Your legs trembled but he steadied you, something that definitely gave him more credit than you thought, expecting him to simply tug himself back in and disappear, maybe stand a bit next to you, to wash himself, but to his credit he gently handled you better, till you were again seated against the sink, the facet now digging painfully in you.

But you were definitely sore in more pleasurable places.

He gently got you back in your dress, adjusting your bra on your sweaty skin, too sensitive for the powerful orgasms you had felt, his silken touch making goosebumps appear on your skin, as your nipples lightly peaked and he couldn’t stop himself from gently sucking one after the other in his mouth, as you moaned almost as a protest.

“Don’t start something you won’t finish” you warned him, as his eyes twinkled with teasing happiness.

“… I would… but I do think that people need this restroom” and he was right, since you felt somebody halfway through calling the security and you shouted out calmly a soft ‘sorry, I just stained my dress and I am trying to get the stain away’ “… but if you want, I can… leave you my number, for more fun…”.

Which you were tempted to take, honestly.

He was handsome, he had a good dick game and he was definitely respectful of boundaries.

But you knew these things always got too complex for you.

First of all because had you given him your number, you would have to admit the truth and secondly as much as you were free right now a partner that was repeated a few more times was dangerous, because feelings might be developed.

“… I…” but how could you let down a guy like this.

“… you aren’t the type” a sad smile appeared on the man’s face, no hard feelings for sure, but definitely uncomfortable at your rejection and you couldn’t help but simply nod “… got it, well it was fun till it lasted”.

And to his merit he didn’t do anything that might have been rough against you, choosing to instead smile politely as he cleaned himself a bit, before he exited with one last look at you, as if to check if you had changed your mind, but you simply stood painfully uncomfortable off the sink as you dabbed a bit more the stain.

“… thank you for the suggestion and…” ‘…the fucking amazing sex’.

“You are welcome”.

And with that he disappeared from the restroom, as you thought he’d disappear from your life.

The only trace of him was the faint stain on your dress and the slight blush on your cheeks as you joined Abigail again.

‘… somebody got lucky’ she simply muttered, as she twirled her glass, another one in your hands, as your eyes searched for Duncan, he joined a few of the investors, but your eyes diverted immediately from that sight, worried the connection might be seen and questioned ‘… at least one of us got laid tonight’.

You simply elbowed her, as you smiled lovingly at the sponsors.

But you definitely felt rebirthed after the restroom session.

Maybe you were wrong about not seeing him again.

Not that you hadn’t to wait much to meet him again.

That morning you had been asked to take part at a reunion of the stable, alongside a few sponsors that you had found at the latest event, it was a way to get them to know the ‘talents’ they’d fund, and as you expected old and older people to approach you, you were surprised to find Duncan standing there.

Hadn’t he been a complete stranger to the F1 platform?

And as your grew nervous and more nervous, your stable director came up to you and Abigail, slinging an arm over you both as he moved to get you and present you to him, making you blush as much as he did, but he was extremely professional.

You couldn’t, when you discovered he was your newest sponsor.

‘Girls let me introduce to you both our latest sponsor’ your boss commented softly ‘Duncan Shepherd’.

And he was Duncan fucking Shepherd.

The heir to the Shepherd foundation.

What the fuck had you done?

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Duncan Shepherd (I don’t really have a taglist anymore, so if you are interested on being there for Michael do let me know, and I’ll add you, if I ever think about writing something for him again!):

@blakewaterxx, @melodylangdon, @avocodys, @ahsbitch, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @accio-rogers

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan Shepherd Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Reader #Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader #Duncan Shepherd Fic #Duncan Shepherd One Shot #Duncan Shepherd Smut #Duncan Shepherd Moodboard #Duncan Shepherd Writing #Duncan Shepherd Imagine #House Of Cards #House of Cards Imagine #HOC #HOC Imagine

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eclipsedpascal · 3 years

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Vile Intentions

60s!Older!Duncan Shepherd x Female Reader

You’d been obsessing over your fathers older best friend for months, finding it near impossible to tear your eyes from the stunning man throughout every party of your parent's that he had attended. So when the notoriously promiscuous man made a move on your young and naive self, you decided to disregard your friends and mothers concerns of his ungodliness and let yourself collapse into his grasp. If only you had known of his growing obsession with you and it's Vile Intentions.

Disclaimer: the concept of 60s!Duncan was come up with by Daisy ( @celestialrequiem ) and all credits go to her! Daisy always comes up with the best concepts so if you’re interested in more creepy, 60s!Duncan then please check out days of candy!! It’s art😌 But with Daisies permission, i’ve been writing this piece for the past few months as a set up for a new au which I’m currently working on. I’ve already written multiple other (smutty) fics for it nd they should all hopefully be out soon:)

Please read the warnings!!

Warnings: inappropriate relationships, large age gap (reader is 20 whilst Duncan is in his early 40s), dad’s best friend!Duncan, very slight hints at daddy kink, some teasing, innocent reader, 60s housewife stereotype, possessiveness, manipulative behaviours, maybe some slight mentions of a religion corruption kink?, kinda creepy duncan, mentions of alcohol, implied judgments of reader and mentions of smut:)

Notes: This fic is kind of inspired by cruel intentions, the manipulation themes and sudcing stuff is anyway hehe. I haven’t actually finished this the way I wanted to, but ahh I just needed to post something so I can get out of the writer's block i’ve been having. So yeah! Basically this is just a bit of creepy, manipulative, 60s!Duncan that will be a set up for a few other fics i’ve got in the works:))💗

Word count: 3.3k

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You had been staring at him all night, taking every chance you could to wander off from the rest of the party and stare at the handsome man.

Duncan, or as your parents referred to him, Mr. Shepherd, was a friend of your fathers and attended most the parties your family held. He knew your father from work as he owned a partnering company to the one your father worked at. They had met each other several months ago at a business meeting, and despite Duncan being 10 years or so younger than your father, the two of them became good friends quickly. At these events, they could usually be found drinking together near the living room bar, smoking cubans and joking about their recent work triumphs. It was their favourite ritual.

Duncan was around 40, well spoken and extremely attractive. Every time you saw him you were blown away by his looks. It was shameful how starstruck you became in his presence and you knew it was wrong to be thinking of an older man in such way, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your father spoke so very fondly of him and you couldn’t agree more with his sentiments.

You remember the first night you saw him. He had come over for dinner with your parents whilst you were out with some girlfriends and you had found yourself arriving home just as he was leaving. You were far too scared to talk to him, so instead you snuck up the stairs and stopped on the landing to lean over the banister and watch your parents wish him a goodnight.

You were shy, only having flirted with a few boys whilst you were in school as dating didn't appeal to you the same way it did your peers. You had been taught from very young age that the happenings that came from ‘dating’ were ungodly and that you were to stay far, far away from them. Instead you were to simply court a good man and marry him when the time came, but it had been 2 years since you left school now and the most male attention you had been able to gather was some light small talk at the local diner that had frightened you too much to properly partake in.

Still being at home with your parents had some benefits, though. You had more free time that didn't yet have to be spent as the ‘good housewife’ and you cherished that, knowing you would have to fill that role at some point soon. Luckily that thought didn't worry you too much. You had been prepared for it by your mother most of your life and like any good young lady, practicing your cooking and cleaning was just a normal part of life.

Parties were good for this. You were able to cook for your parent’s many guests and receive their compliments and criticisms on it, though recently the only opinions you cared for were Duncan’s. You would secretly listen in on his conversations with your father as he devoured your dishes, hoping for some kind of praise from the man.

You had spent this party in particular watching him from behind the kitchen door, peering past it just enough that you had a good view of his stubble blanketed face. As per usual, he was joking with your father, holding a bourbon in one hand and smoking a cigar with the other.

There were a few other men gathered closely around them, but all were busy with their own conversations, leaving Duncan with the perfect opportunity to bring up the topic he had been eager to discuss all night.

Letting out a laugh, he turned his head and fixed his eyes onto you. Seeing you freeze up in fear, he winked at you before returning to the conversion with your father. “Say, is that you daughter over there?” He lifted his glass in your direction, noticing you had now disappeared back into your not so secret hiding spot. You had retreated behind the door when you saw him point, not wanting to be in any kind of trouble with your father.

“Mhm, that’s Y/N. Our youngest.” your father chuckled at your bashfulness.

“She’s beautiful” He took a drag from his cigar, thinking back to the many times he had spotted your precious little face staring. Of course, he already knew who you were; but your father needn't be aware of that.

Your father nodded along. “She’s a pretty doll, but she’s too shy for her own good.” He looked down at the floor, worried thoughts running through his mind at the reminder of your anxiousness.

“Oh yeah?” This didn't actually surprise Duncan in the slightest; It was obvious you were shy. He found you gazing at him every time you were in the same room and yet you had never spoken to him. But this silent attraction of yours had never made you seem any less appealing to him, if anything the challenge of coaxing you out of your shell only served to entice him further.

He liked how quiet you were, the idea of receiving the reward of your sweet young voice when he finally managed to pluck sentences out of you delighted him. Just thinking about you excited him far more than anybody else he had been with. You were uncharted territory that was willing and wanting to be claimed by him. Nothing turned him on more.

“Well no man wants to marry a girl like that. She’d be a good housewife one day if she’d just talk to the men that showed interest in her! But every time someone’s tried, she’s gotten all flustered. Doesn’t say a damn word! Then they just.. loose interest and well.. here we are.” Your father cherished you, but he feared you would struggle in the real world; being you couldn’t hold a conversation to save your life.

Taking another drag of his cigar, he watched the door and listened to your fathers concerns, hoping to see you pop your head back around to sneak another peek at him, and surely enough you did. Your father watched this interaction, seeing the two of you lock eyes before yours fell to the ground cowardly. “She doesn’t exactly make it easy.” Your father commented.

Preparing to finally approach you after too many nights spent feeling your eyes on him without a single word spoken, Duncan finished his drink and placed it down on the hardwood bar beside him, saying one last thing to your father before parting. “Well perhaps those men should've put up more of a fight.”

Giving an illusion of focus, you stared down at your feet as you nervously danced them around each other. His polished black shoes entered your vision, your eyes trailing their way up his pant legs and blazer to his stubble sculpted face. Looking up at him from where you stood in the kitchen doorway, you felt your cheeks bloom a hot, cherry red. You were terrified.

“I couldn’t help but notice your staring back there, sweetheart.” He smiled down at you, his large stature making him tower over your frame.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words would come out. You wanted to defend yourself and apologise for your behaviour, but all you managed to squeak out after your long, unwanted silence was a meek “I-i’m sorry.”

“There’s no need for apologises. I enjoyed it.” He placed his hand on the wall next to you, leaning over you and licking his lip as he stared you up and down. He had never been this close to you before. He could make out the blue in your eyeshadow and smell the floral tones of the sweet fragrance you adorned. Yet he still craved to be closer.

You didn't know what to say now he was being so forward. Forgetting every word in your vocabulary, you felt your breathing grow heavy with the weight of fear now coursing through you. You looked back down at his feet, just wanting to avoid his eyes. Obviously you had dreamt of this occurring many times before, but now he was really here on front of you, the realisation of having to hold a conversation with such an attractive, older man had become far too daunting.

“You’re a nervous little thing, aren’t you?” He grazed his thumb over the bottom of your chin and lifted it slightly, his cigar balanced securely between his index and middle finger of the same hand gracing your face. “You know, I don’t bite, little one.” He chuckled, easing your nerves as you laughed lightly at his joke.

“So daddy’s not mad at me?” Feeling more confident now you had spoken, You looked past his shoulder at your father who was watching your conversation intently. You found it curious he approved of Duncan’s flirting.

“Oh no, Daddy’s not mad at you. I just thought you could use some company.” He caressed the outline of your jaw before bringing his hand to his face and puffing on his cigar, doing his very best to suppress the groan that was threatening to leave his lips after hearing your use of such a word. And his own words? They were smooth, of course. His confidence captivating and the way he bathed in your innocence; intoxicating.

He was a very flirtatious man, that you knew. You had heard rumours of his promiscuous nature when listening in on your mothers gossip sessions with her friends, all of them saying he hadn’t a wife, yet his bed was never empty.

You never saw him at Sunday service either. Everyone you knew would attend church, but not him. Not even once had he graced your congregation with an appearance. Your mother had commented on this concerning attribute of his to your father once before, during dinner, but he dismissed it, saying Duncan was a busy man and couldn’t afford to go to church when he was running such a large company; not even on god’s day.

But when you saw his face, all of your worries and concerns were washed away. He could have confessed unspeakable sins and you would have still found yourself worshiping him, falling to your knees and grovelling at his feet for just a slither of attention. And if your father trusted and defended him so often, then why shouldn’t you? Daddy knew him best and he wouldn’t be so open to him flirting with you if he was truly such a corrupt man.

“Company would sure be swell. That is.. as long as it’s you.” You batted your eyelashes at him, doing your best to uphold a facade confidence and flirt back. You didn't want to mess this up.

He smirked at the boldness of your words, moving his hand to run over your cheekbone with his finger tip of his thumb. “What’d you say we take a walk outside? Get a little more privacy.” He lowered his arm, offering it to you and waiting for you to grab it so he could lead you into the garden.

You considered your next move carefully, knowing it could be vital; but it didn't take you long to decide. You didn't care about the 20 year age gap or his reputation, too infatuated with his looks and charm to care about the judgmental stares you would receive if you walked out the door with him. So you accepted.

He finally had you.

●●●●●●●●

That night in the garden had been incredible. He was a very traditional man from what it seemed, extremely polite and respectful; far more than any man your own age had ever been. You knew others might not agree with your pairing, but you didn't care. He had asked if he could take you to the pictures the next Friday and you couldn’t have been more thrilled, trying to hide your excitement as you accepted his offer.

Your parents had argued with each other over breakfast the next morning, your mother scolding your father for letting such a man attempt to court you. She wasn’t happy when she found out you would be seeing him again but your father supported it, saying he couldn't think of anybody else who could better look after you. Duncan was more than wealthy enough to care for you properly and you were well aware of that.

Duncan knew that too, of course. He knew he could offer you so many things you had never experienced before. Whether that was buying you expensive jewellery he knew your father never did, or fucking your virgin cunt senseless, it didn't matter. He just knew he could and he would. He wanted you. Wanted to make you his and nobody else’s.

Things had moved pretty fast after your first date. The two of you would see each other pretty regularly. He would take you to dinner at a number of fancy restaurants he liked, or for drives in his red Cadillac where he would slide a hand over onto your thigh and leave it there whilst you watched him drive. You thought nothing of this little habit. It was something that made you tremble, yes, but you would have never suspected it to be his intention. Just as you didn't suspect his true motives for dating you in the first place. You would have never guessed he wanted you in the vulgar manner he truly did, and certainly not since the very first time he saw you; that would just be absurd.

At first the realisation it wasn’t just another quick fuck he was craving was much to Duncan’s dismay, but he grew to appreciate his new found desire. He wanted to lure you in, use his suave and traditional act to make you slowly fall for him, convince you he was just as reputable and unblemished as you were. He dreamt of the day he could call you his wife, his personal piece of arm candy to parade around and have obsess over him whenever and however much he desired it. It shouldn't be too hard, that he knew. You were so young and unguided. Easily manipulated, one might say. He adored the way you looked at him, your eyes glassed over with innocence, he almost felt himself wanting to look after you. Make you his little girl. But mostly he just couldn't stand the idea of another man’s hands on you. He needed to be there before someone else swooped in and stole you from him. Like an eagle stalking it’s pray.

Whenever he would drop you off at home, he would always walk you up to the front door and plant a cheeky kiss on your lips, politely pulling away after just a few seconds; but this one time was different. He slipped up.

You had been seeing him for just over three months at the time and were falling for him harder everyday. So when he walked you to the door and pressed his lips against yours just as he always did, you made the impulsive decision to keep him there a just little longer, moving your hand up to his hair and stopping him from pulling back.

You felt his hand rest on your waist, his other moving up your back to press you closer to him. You’d not been excepting his enthusiasm and it shook you to your core, never having been kissed like this before. The furthest you’d ever gone with a boy had been a four second kiss that happened in the playground at school over a decade ago.

Duncan’s lips began moving against yours, rough and urgent. It was too much. You felt your cunt grow hot and you emitted a sudden whimper at the feeling of his tongue entering your mouth. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, flailing them around as he held you tight.

You felt the bittersweet tang of blood hit your tongue as he bite down on your bottom lip, the pain of it somehow transforming into more pleasure as he violently pushed you into the door, creating a bang so loud you were sure everyone inside would have had heard it.

Of course you had been right, your mother had in fact heard it and was now interrupting the frenzied, lust filled moment you were sharing with Duncan by calling out your name, trying to find out if you were finally home at an hour this late.

He released you from his grasp, placing his arms down at his sides and pausing. You stared up at him, lips pierced and face completely red with embarrassment. You were filled with an urge you didn't quite understand as you found yourself wishing the moment hadn't ended so quickly.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” he quickly wished you goodbye, running his hand through his styled curls and retreating down the path to his car after his sudden loss of self control. You watched him for a moment before opening the front door and stuffing yourself inside, just wanting to run upstairs and hide from your prying mother’s questions.

Despite Duncan’s words, you didn’t sleep well that night. You tossed and turned for hours, tirelessly fighting the unsatisfied tingling feeling that had occupied your crotch ever since he first set his perverted lips on yours. You’d never felt like this before. Your body radiated heat like magma, urges feeling as if they had become trapped underneath your sweltering skin, trying desperately to claw themselves free from your pent up limbs before you combust from complete absence.

It all felt so new. So stimulating. so.. arousing. How could you have possibly been expected to restrain yourself from falling for someone who you could make you feel such carnal pleasures? You had been hidden from affection your whole life, only to have Duncan bathe you in it; buying you anything and taking you anywhere you wanted. He nurtured you as if you were the most precious object in existence, making sure that the overwhelming sense of love for him inside of you grew so present that when the time came to propose, you couldn't have possibly said no to him; even if you had wanted to.

●●●●●●●●

Your vision skewed and hazed by the puffy, white vail which draped over your face, you stared down at the church hall flooring, doing your best not to stumble over your own feet, being far too terrified to gaze up at the man you were destained to be with forever.

You were gaining on the end of the isle rapidly, fear flowing through your veins at a rate you had never experienced before and feeling the burn of your family and friends eyes scorching into your virgin skin. There they all stood, watching your young, trembling hands grip into your fathers arm with the sudden realisation you would soon be without him and belong to another.

Reaching the inevitable end, you left your fathers hold, carrying yourself up towards your future husband on only the dreams of what you hoped would be. Hearing the once deafening organ halt to a sudden silence, he lifted your vail and from deep within his chest, released a satisfied exhale, being reminded of the blinding and innocent beauty he was marrying.

Remembering your voice, as shaky as it may have been, you plead your vows. You stared up into his eyes and searched for the warm comfort his aquamarines had bore reassurance into your own with many a time before, solace and joy settling into you immediately.

Accepting your ring with a smile as wide as your now sparkling eyes, you muttered the fatal ‘’I do.”

"You may kiss the bride.” The priest chided happily, undivulged to how sinful of a man he had just bound you to.

Leaning in, Your new husband kissed you passionately. Quickly enough to look respectful in front of your peers and relatives, of course; but turbulently lewd enough to snatch your breathe away. He moved back, keeping his hold on your waist locked into place as he looked down at you with a devilish grin as you beamed back up at him.

“My bride. All mine.”

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Thank you sm for reading!!🥺💗

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