When Simon came back from missions it was always a surprise to you. Since you two didn't really communicate outside of when Simon came to the flat.
So it was obviously only a matter of time Simon was gonna walk in at a very wrong moment.
When he stepped inside the place was quiet, he threw off his boots and headed to his bedroom, he didn't bother turning on the light, he took off most of his gear and headed to shower.
He cleaned himself off and walked back to the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Now he turned on the light, so he could see the clothes in his closet. Though... on a second look to his bed, you were laying in the bed. Very relaxed. Very deep asleep. He gently nudged your shoulder. Which didn't disturb you at all.
He shook you a little harder, light stirring. "Why are you in my bed?" Simon asked quietly, to not scare you. Once you woke up, you stared at him like a deer in headlights. "Uhh... soft." You said, not quite awake yet.
Simon raised a brow at your response. "You're pretty." You continued and laid back down.
Only now Simon realised he hadn't put his mask back on. He cleared his throat. "Are you drunk?" He asked. Yet you were back asleep already.
He joined the bed in a couple hours, keeping his distance as to not wake you, but he was still staring...
It couldn't have been wrong to sleep in his bed alongside you, if you were the one who climbed in first...
Whatever.
Simon slept great for the first time in months, and he got awoken by the smell of pancakes.
You paused, fork almost to your mouth, as your ears were assaulted by the horrific sound of your flatmate Wilson in the bathroom. You wished that he would warn you before he needed to use the throne, cause then you'd have been able to escape before it was too late. You probably would've left now, if you weren't in the middle of eating.
BBBBBBBBRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPP!
You couldn't help but physically cringe from the booming flatulent noises ringing from the bathroom, that were unfortunately magnified by the porcelain toilet and the tiny cramped apartment. The rent in this place was so cheap, it was all you could afford, even if it meant the kitchen and bathroom were all stuffed into basically the same area, with only a door and thin walls separating the 2.
It was impossible not to gag at least a little as you heard yet another fart followed by a ringing splash. You'd think you'd be somewhat used to it by now, but somehow it always seemed to repulse you. It was always made worse by his loud, shameless grunting, not to mention the often childish, school boy laughter afterwards as well. He was just so damn proud of his toilet wrecking habits, for whatever reason.
Every time you tried desperately to take at least one mouthful, you were interrupted by a vibrating fart, a plopping sound of a rock landing in a pool, and/or a shameless groan/giggle putting you off your apatite for a bit. It probably would've been put right off altogether, if you hadn't heard this so many times before. You just wanted to have some food, then you could evacuate the place.
Finally, after what felt like at least an hour, you heard the toilet flushing, which should've made you relieved, but couldn't because it meant you knew what was coming next. The door then opened, and you were hit with the stink of Wilson's bathroom bomb. He strode out the door looking satisfied with himself. He was wearing absolutely nothing, except for his classic white boxers. You weren't going to demand him to put something on, as he was almost twice your size in terms of muscle and near height.
"Phew, God damn man, you don't wanna go in there for a while. I know how weak your nose can be, and I bet you'd probably get knocked out. So, I'd probably give that a day or so, maybe. Sheesh, That's what a good protein meal and gym sesh will do to you, just goes right through me. I mean... did you hear me in there? I felt like I dropped over a pound, hahaha." Wilson snickered, proud of his 'achievement'. He never showed an ounce of shame, and it only disgusted you all the more. You didn't know what would put you off your food quicker, the sounds, the stench or his detailed descriptions of the aftermath. It had become such a nightmare that you'd now always resorted to using the ones in the bar next door to your flats, after yours would become uninhabitable, after Wilson was done with it. They didn't smell too great either, but you'd take them any day over what was waiting for you back home.
"Seriously man, I would say that was a record breaker of a dump, but I don't think that was even my biggest one this week. And I thought I was gonna bust the plumbing, hahaha." He let out another disgusting laugh, as you cringed again. You'd lost count of the amount of times you'd had to call the plumber to deal with his 'clogging'. You practically had the same regular guy visiting every other week at this point. Apparently Wilson got along with him quite well and he'd even congratulate him as he 'didn't often see a guy with such skill'. Sometimes you felt like the only sane person around him.
"Anyway, outta the way man. I need to get some food in me, gotta keep my build up, you know." He barged past you, over to the fridge. "I need some more protein, cause I'm planning on going to the gym again later-, wait a minute." He paused before snickering.
"Hey bro, pull my finger." He presented his index finger to you. You groaned, as if he the current stench in the air wasn't pungent enough. Wilson didn't even give you enough time to respond, as he simply shrugged at your disgust, and pulled it himself, cocking his leg a bit.
FFFFFFFFRRRRRRRAAAAAPPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTT!
The room reverberated with the sound of his post dump flatulence, no longer blocked off by the thin wall (not that that usually did any good anyway). The stink of his eggy fart was now making things a bit too much, that you almost dropped your fork. Wilson just let out chuckle, as your suffering on his 'products' was always amusing to him, as he bent over to root around for some food in the fridge.
As you finished gagging, you turned around to see his back to you, which was an immediate mistake. His ass was now pointed directly at you as he bent down into the fridge, whether that was intentional of or not. On top of that, there was an obvious brown skid mark down the centre of the crack area. Wilson paid no obvious notice to your disgust, but you swore you could sense him smirking at your expense of his repulsive personality.
Finally, after a few more moments of gagging from your end, Wilson slammed the fridge door and turned to look you, with a face of mock dissapointment.
"Well, what do you know dude? Seems like we're out of good food." You knew he was lying, there was at least a enough left for him to slap a small meal together. But that's when you realised what you were eating. A nice salad, with a creamy, eggy dressing. That was the last thing you wanted to give to him, as it would absolutely turn him into even more of a stinky, nuclear bomb. You looked back up at Wilson, who was now staring down at you with a shit eating grin. You had a horrible idea what he was about to do.
"Hey dude, think you mind giving me that? I need something with some good protien for later. Be a pal, and give me that salad, would ya?" His grin was certainly intimidating, but you felt like holding down. You didn't fancy anything else in the fridge, and you were already a little behind on rent, so you couldn't really buy any other food. Wilson obviously noticed your hesitance, so he decided to press on further, in the worst possible way.
"Cmon bro, you're my buddy ain't ya?" He then proceeded to grab you round the head and embrace you in a rough, near chokehold like 'hug' with rubbing your head. Your face was now directly next to his musky, sweaty armpit, which reeked almost as much as his recent fart. It was difficult to breath without taking any of it in.
Honestly, you only lived with him cause it was the cheapest rent you could afford, although you considered living on the street as opposed to with him. Wilson only had you around because he loved having someone to pick on, as well as have control over, in his own "special way". He was starting to suffocate you a little before finally letting go. Realistically, that should've cracked you, yet a part of you still felt like standing up for yourself. When Wilson noticed, he continued to smirk, your suffering had always been a mere game to him.
"Seriously man, you know I need it more than you. After all I gotta keep this bod in shape." He then flexed his muscles, making you roll your eyes. However, he then turned around, facing his large, white boxer cladded ass directly at you. "Particularly, my ass man. It's my main meat, you know? Makes all the girls swoon and the guys cheer, don't you agree?" He swung his cheeks tauntingly from side to side. Whilst this may have been true, all you could focus on was that disgusting skid mark, along with the strong pong radiating off it. You didn't think this could get worse, but you should've known better by now.
BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTT!
"Oh yeah, get a whiff of that dude!" Wilson sighed in triumph, as he began to gleefully waft the scent of his pungent blast towards you. You couldn't help but audibly cough as Wilson stared back at you, almost maniacally. "That's another thing, my awesome farts. The guys don't call me Windy Wilson for nothing, and that salad will give me just the fuel I need. My gas is just part of my charm. You wouldn't want me to loose my signature gassy stink... would you?" There was a playfully threating tone to his voice now, one that built up a sense of fear, even more than usual. Obviously, you wanted nothing more, it would certainly make everyday more 'breathable' so to speak.
"W-well, I mean, I do need-" You tried to utter some kind of comprehensible comeback, but the combined miasma coming from him, along with the bathroom, was overwhelming your brain. Wilson simply tutted, shaking his head in mock disappointment.
"It seems I'm not getting through to you. Here." And then, to your up most horror, he began to pull down his boxers, exposing his naked, musky, slightly hairy ass. As he did so, you were instantly hit with a new wave of 'aroma' that proved to you that he definitely hadn't wiped his ass properly, after dropping such a bomb. Before you could even think of escaping, he grabbed you by the head and began to almost shove your face into his smelly, bare, unwashed ass. It was pure hell.
BBBBBBBBBBLLLLLOOOOOOORRRRRRTTT!
"Ahhhh, smell that? That's the stink of a true man. And if I'm going to keep it, I need some good protein food." You were struggling to escape the rotten fumes as they shot directly up your nose. You wouldn't be shocked if he singed off your nose hairs. "Now, I'll ask you politely one more time, cause you wouldn't like me when I'm angry, and believe me, I can do this all day." You then heard his stomach rumble ominously, making you whimper in terror. "But looking at you now, I think the message is getting through. Now, give-"
PPAAAARRRRRPPPP!
"Me-"
RRRRRAAAAPPPPPPPPPRTTTTTTTT!
"That-"
BBBBBBBBBLLLLLLLAAAAAARRRTTTTTTT!
"-Salad"
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRTT!
"-Please!"
You swore you would've been blasted across the room from the sheer force of his gas, if he weren't holding your head in place. The accompanying eggy, shitty stink of was so strong that you honestly felt like you were going to vomit. He'd never tormented you quite like this before.
Eventually, his butt finally came to a stop with a loud quack and let go of your head. You fell back onto the floor out of the chair, limp. You couldn't think of anything to say, being on the verge of passing out. Wilson simply pulled up his boxers, satisfied with your demise. He plopped himself onto the chair and picked up the fork.
"Thanks bro, knew you'd come through for me. Why don't you go get your own food somewhere else, I'm sure you can find something." He snickered at you, as you got up feeling dizzy, ears almost ringing from the blasts. "Also, you may wanna go somewhere else if you need to use the bathroom at all, cause that's not gonna be the only dump I take today, hahaha. Also, I've got some bros coming over for a party tomorrow and we're gonna need a judge for our annual fart contest. Appreciate it if you could help us out man, thanks." Wilson smirked at you, as you hurried past the biohazard that was 'his' bathroom and out the door, gulping as you heard him let out one last vibrating gas explosion onto the chair, complete with a another satisfied sigh.
As you walked down the stairs, into the sweet beloved fresh air, you honestly considered that perhaps living on the dirty streets might not be so bad after all.
She knows I’m awake. She fucking knows. I hear the soft hum through the wall, the stifled breath, my name whispered like a prayer. She does it louder every night, moaning just enough to reach me, pretending it’s an accident. She wants me to hear her fucking her little cunt while thinking of me. Wants me to lose control. I wait. I let her get close. And then I knock. Not to stop her. Just to hear the panic in her voice when she gasps and scrambles. I stay silent behind the door. She knows I’m there. I want her to keep going. Moaning, soaked, trembling. Until she begs. Until she forgets how to fake it and starts to fucking feel it. She plays this game so sweetly. But next time I’m walking in. And then the game ends.
