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daydreamingleclerc · 1 year

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corrupt // mason mount

in which; he’s the university’s superstar sports player, and you’re just an innocent little bookworm. he walks you home one night after commotion in the street and you can’t help but offer him inside.

includes; corruption kink, uncomfortable cat calling, master manipulation, excessive usage of pet names (it gets annoying, sorry), dom!mason, sub!reader, foul language, fingering, oral (m, f rec), choking, protected sex, squirting, swearing, a sprinkle of CNC.

i was listening to sk8er boi by avril lavigne and it spiraled into this. i’m not sorry. thanks @landopeaches for helping me w all the ideas and being there to lust over mason with throughout the process <3

this is filthy. and just under 10K words. please read at your own risk. don’t say i didn’t want you.

22:04.

the library didn’t normally stay open this late on friday nights, especially during the week of varsity, but you had a way with words and a very appreciated knack for batting your eyelashes.

“i think it’s-”

“-ssh, i'm writing,” you held a hand up to your housemate and best friend, becca, as you finished your train of thought before your new column ultimately came crashing to a halt, “okay, continue.”

she sat beside you, flicking through a book she clearly had no interest in. she’d given up on her sociology assignment long ago, as had savannah, who was now half asleep on one of the sofa’s further down the room. aside from the odd one or two chess club players downstairs, you were the only three in there.

“i think it’s probably a good idea for us to get going,” becca hummed, and much to your distaste, savannah had never been happier. “it’s ten p.m on a friday night, y/n, why don’t we all go pick up some food and watch a movie?”

savannah had already gotten her jacket on and slipped her bag over her shoulder. she didn’t need anymore persuasion.

“you guys go ahead,” you responded, wiggling with the mouse of your laptop as the screen dimmed, “i’ll catch up soon, i just have to finish this section of next weeks column,” becca scowled at you and before she could open her mouth, you eased her racing thoughts, “becca, i'll be fine. just pick me something and i'll pay you back later. i promise i'll be home before eleven.”

the house that the three of you lived in with two of your other housemates was only a short walk away from campus and that gave you roughly forty minutes to finish up this segment. savannah yawned and becca still looked unimpressed.

“you’d better be,” she picked her bag up off the back of her chair and slid it on her shoulder. she left a kiss on the top of your head, “because if i find your dead body in a back alley tomorrow morning, i'll kill you.”

“charming,” savannah yawned. “love you, y/n.”

“love you.” becca gave you a reluctant wave as she walked down the stairs of the library.

you didn’t leave long after the girls and as you exited the warmth of the library and walked out into the crisp april chill, you regretted not bringing a thicker jacket to cocoon yourself as you walked home. blaring music came from all angles, as did the stares and wandering eyes.

it was clear to all eyes you weren’t making your way to or from a party, dressed in a white sundress with cherries printed on the fabric and a white knitted cardigan. the pockets of the cardigan gaped with just your mobile phone, id and house keys inside them – you'd rented out a locker for the night to keep your laptop safe rather than dragging it back home and threatening to drop it.

as you turned the corner onto the main loop of on-campus flats, your palms grew sweaty. you had to pass the flats and walk across the courtyard – which was full of spillover students itching to go out to either one of the clubs in town – to get to the back gate so you could slip out into the car park and cross into your estate to get home.

a drunken body bumped into you as you crossed the road, and in turn your phone fell out of your hand as you tripped up the curb. you managed to steady yourself but unfortunately for you, your little stumble had caught the eye of a small group of drunken boys.

“hey sugar, you look lost, fancy coming up here with us?”

you didn’t recognize any of them, which was unusual considering they looked like the kind of boys who did sports, and you were a columnist in the university newspaper. you only did two sports columns a month, and the rest were focused on arts media – which was your degree, after all – because of that, you knew everybody.

you knew you should’ve responded, told them to fuck off, or at least say no; but you didn’t. you froze. all you did was shake your head, and when they got closer your legs began to speed up.

“hey, i was talking to you,” the same voice echoed, “don’t walk away from me when i'm just trying to have a conversation.”

you fought off the urge to throw up. confrontation was something you despised, especially in front of a big crowd. “are you deaf?” the voice shouted, clearly agitated now, and you could hear it getting closer and closer until it was virtually behind you.

mason, one of the school’s star ex-students and most glorified alumni noticed the commotion going on in the courtyard. luckily enough, he was stood with a friend who was smoking outside in a small congregation of people waiting to head to another party. he recognized you from the times you’d sat out on the pitch during games with your notepad and fluffy pink pen, that would always get dampened when the inevitable rain kicked in. he had a lot of time for you, even if you had no idea.

“i’m offering you sex on a plate here, love-”

“-gareth, piss off.”

your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest in that moment, and when a familiar face stepped out of the shadows, you let out a puff of air. your eyes caught mason’s, and immediately he rushed over to you.

“y/n, are you okay?” his hand rested softly on your shoulder and massaged the hot flesh of your skin in an attempt to calm you. he waited for you to nod, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “you’re freezing, do you want to borrow my jacket?”

you shook your head and couldn’t help getting lost in the way he got the boys to mutter an apology and scramble away with their tails – dicks – between their legs.

“where are you off to?”

“uh, i, um,” you pinched the bridge of your nose and tried to compose your thoughts. in the three years you’d known mason, he’d never once touched you this way. a complimentary nod of the head after a quick post-match interview or a stolen glance in the hall followed by a soft smile were all the emotional bridges you’d built together. “i'm on my way home.”

mason gestured to his friends to go on without him as he continued to walk with an arm around your shoulder. “i’ll walk you home, babe, okay?” he hooked his thumb under your chin and got you to look over at him, “i’ve just got to stop off at a party and show my face for ten minutes, whereabouts do you live?”

“uh, forty-two goodwood drive.” your voice came out quieter than expected, and mason hummed, nodding his head when his lips formed a smile.

“perfect, the parties at twenty-eight goodwood drive, we can stop off there for ten minutes, have a drink and then i can walk you to the door.”

“we?” you frowned, “i'm not good with big crowds, mason.”

he tutted, “that’s a lie, remember last year when you stood up in front of all the freshers with that powerpoint on how they could join the school newspaper?”

you were shocked he remembered that, and it took you a minute to compute his words and formulate a response. “that was different, it was work related,” a knot formed between your eyebrows and that usual smirk had found its way back to mason’s face. it seemed to be a permanent feature. “honestly, mason. it's fine, i can walk myself home.”

“no, darling. i've said i'll walk you home, please,” he stopped to look at you for a minute, and the knot between your eyebrows released as if subconsciously, “let me at least walk you home.”

it flattered you that mason mount of all people was willing to walk you home. not even men you dated offered to do that. and he had almost begged you.

“if you insist.”

he patted your shoulder with the tips of his fingers and you began walking again, safe in the cage of his arm.

“atta girl.”

22:50

it seemed to be a night of firsts.

for the first time, the campus celebrities, as becca called them, had allowed you into their party as if you were one of their own. mason had poured you a drink and you held the red cup between both hands to hide the shakes. you wanted to say they’d come on because of the drunken cat calling, but you knew on the surface it was because mason was keeping you close.

you were thankful, nobody really knew you at this party other than maybe two people, one of them being mason. it was clear you were uncomfortable; the push and shove of drunken antics wasn’t something you were particularly used to. you knew your limits, and at the grand old age of twenty-three, you expected everybody else to know theirs, too.

it seemed, wherever mason was, a flock of people followed. he had his very own fan club. mason was already a student when you’d arrived, he'd graduated university from his sports science combined course a year early because he was scouted by a football agent and now he was off playing league football and crushing it, you had to admit. he still had a lot of friends here and came back semi-regularly to join in on the parties and sex.

the pair of you sat down on a plush suede sofa, and he noticed you checking your watch for the time. you’d been twiddling your thumbs at this party as mason’s impromptu plus one for twenty-five minutes, and you anxiously tapped your fingers on your knees. you were supposed to be home in seven minutes.

“whats up, princess?”

your cheeks heated up at the use of his constant pet names, but this one seemed to take the cake. “i told my housemates i'd be back at the house for eleven.”

when he flashed that signature mason smirk that you found yourself fawning over for months, the familiar knot formed between your eyebrows. “you can allow yourself to be a little bit late, darling,” mason’s expression then mimicked yours, “do they keep tabs on you like they own you or something?”

his question took you by surprise. it was the first proper rude thing he’d said to you all night, and that’s how you expected him to be around you, but so far, he was everything but. “i’m kidding,” he suppressed a chuckle and scooted closer, “just tell them you’re gonna be a little late, babe. don't worry, you’re safe with me.”

he shot you a wink, and it sent butterflies swarming around your body and wetness pooling in your underwear. this was probably the most turned on a man had ever made you, and he hadn’t even touched you, or said anything remotely sexual.

before mason could open his mouth, a boy you vaguely recognized as someone from the hockey team slid over and sat on the corner of the coffee table. immediately, they got into conversation, and you found yourself once again admiring the way he held himself. you snapped out of it almost instantly.

“who's the girl then, mase? got yourself a new toy?”

“his new what?”

“got myself a new what?”

yours and mason’s questions overlapped, and immediately his friend could sense that what he said was wrong. he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or apologize, and then he saw mason’s expression and chose the latter. he scurried off, and you placed your cup down on the coffee table in front of you.

“i think i should just go,” as you went to get up, mason grabbed your wrist and you caught one another's eyes, “mason, please.”

he pleaded with his eyes to get you to stay, “don’t listen to anything dom says, sweetheart,” mason scowled in his direction and dom couldn’t help but keep flickering his eyes over at the pair of you in regret, “he doesn’t know his brains from his balls, and that’s why he’s on the hockey team.”

he pulled a laugh from your lips and it immediately put him at ease.

“promise you won’t listen?” his hand brushed your knee, and you fought every inebriated urge you had to not pounce on him.

“mhm, i promise, mason,” you smiled, placing your hand on top of his. he smiled and scooted closer ever so slightly, “thank you.”

“good girl,” his words ignited a flame inside of your stomach, and the wet patch inside your underwear grew significantly. you'd never been called those words before, and he knew what he was doing when the knowing smirk grew. “would you like another drink?”

“yes, please,” you squeezed your legs together when his fingers brushed closer as he stood up, and he knew how he made you feel within seconds. you grabbed his fingers as he lifted them from your leg. you looked so innocent he could’ve exploded. “don’t be too long, please.”

“you’re so cute when you’re clingy,” he watched as your cheeks lit up in heat, “i'll only be over there. two minutes, tops.”

eleven o'clock had been and gone. becca and savannah had tried to ring multiple times to stick their noses in and find out what was going on, but you’d be leaving soon, and once mason had walked you to the door, they’d be all yours to gossip with.

you shifted in your spot, and tried to peel yourself off the sofa without distracting mason from his conversation with somebody you didn’t recognize at all, but it was unsuccessful. “where are you going, babe?”

“i need to pee,” you shifted again, and got up successfully without mason stopping you. he finished his conversation abruptly and you almost rolled your eyes, “where are the toilets?”

“i’ll take you.”

“i don’t need you to be my bodyguard, mason. just tell me where the toilets are and i'll go on my own.”

his lip quirked up into a hint of a smile. you got sassy when you’d had a drink. that boded well for him and his everlasting thoughts of you in compromising positions.

“darling, with all due respect you don’t know anybody here and i don’t want you wandering,” he finished the dregs of his drink, “i'll take you and then we can leave, c’mon, give me your drink.”

“why?”

“because i don’t want people seeing you holding it and it getting spiked, c’mon.”

you gave in rather easily and handed mason your half-full cup with a thoughtful smile. you hadn’t gone for a wee since before you left the library, and now you’d been holding it for a while it was something of a relief to be going. he took you to another bathroom, one in a less quiet part of the house. he had clearly been here multiple times before.

“you’re not gonna come in with me too, are you?”

“depends,” mason shrugged, “are you offering?”

you swatted his arm with a friendly punch, even though a part of you wanted to say yes and have him take you then and there in the bathroom. the door unlocked and a couple walked out, hair in disarray and clothes mismatched. brilliant.

“you just wait at the door, big guy.”

it stank of weed and sex in the room as you homed in on your surroundings as you peed. what started out as a stressful night had soon become enjoyable, and all thoughts of anxiety you had before you arrived at the party had washed away. you couldn’t hear mason at the door, even though you wouldn’t have been able to anyway because of the thumping bass; but you half expected him to be gone by the time you opened the door.

you wiped your hands on your dress and smoothed over your hair in the mirror. your mascara smudged in both corners of your eyes, and you cleaned it up, merging the outer smudges into your eyeliner. mason was stood with a soft smile on his face when you walked out, and you mimicked it, “i expected you to have found someone better to spend your evening with, thank you for waiting.”

“better than you?” he handed you your cardigan, the one you didn’t even realize you were missing, and you slipped your arms into it, “impossible, darling.”

you blushed again and covered your face with your hands, suppressing a delicate giggle from masons ears. he made sure the cardigan was on your shoulders, and a shiver trickled down your spine when he pulled your hair out, so it wasn’t trapped between fabrics.

“okay princess, finish your drink,” he handed you the cup and you downed it in one, trusting him enough in that moment to know that he wouldn’t spike it, and he raised his eyebrows, impressed, “all in one, good girl.”

your mind raced at the dirty scenario echoing through it, and heat pooled all over your body. you were honestly surprised you couldn’t feel your own slick on your thighs. nobody had ever made you feel like this before, and mason loved the hold he had on your achingly innocent persona. you subconsciously bit your lip and mason fought off a guttural moan.

“what’s with that expression, darling, hm? was it something i said?”

you opened your mouth to react, but he pinched your hip, laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders once again, the pair of you wandering down the hall like nobody's business.

he checked the time on your watch as you walked, lifting up your wrist as if it were a feather, and pulled a faux shocked face at the time. “oh dear, sweetheart,” he tutted, “eleven eighteen, your owners will be waiting up for you.”

you rolled your eyes at his jab, the second rude one of the night. one more and you’d be summoning up the courage to punch him in the face.

“they aren’t my owners, mason. they're my friends and they care.”

the two of you stepped out into the cold night air, your nipples hardening against the lace of your bra and scratching against the cotton of your dress. your thighs immediately came up in goosebumps and the cold was a nice juxtaposition to the heat pulsing your clit.

“so you’ve never submitted to anyone, darling?” he asked, shoving his free hand in his jacket pocket, ignoring the crowds of people wandering the streets and girls throwing up in bushes, “let them take complete ownership of you? let yourself go?”

his words shot straight to your core. you fumbled for a reply.

“uh, no, i.. um, i don’t think so.”

stupid reply.

“you don’t think so? oh, sweetheart. you'd know if you did,” as you got closer to your house, a swarm of longing pulled at your chest and you yearned for him now, in a way you’d never yearned for anybody in your life. “but then again, you’ve never tried it with me.”

the last part was muttered, and you could barely hear it.

“what?” you whined, the short, abrupt question coming out in a far more sexual tone than necessary.

“nothing for you to worry about darling,” he patted your cheek softly, “look, you’re home now.”

you half expected him to fall back on his promise, to walk away now and leave you high and dry. to leave you to sort out the mess he’d created, but you’d yearn for more than just the touch of your own fingertips or the ripple of a vibrator. you just didn’t know how to ask him.

he walked you right up to the door, as he said he would.

“thank you, mason,” you smiled. everything inside of you screamed to ask if he wanted to come inside, but when you opened your mouth, you just found the question too overwhelming. “i... uh...”

“what’s up darling?” he questioned, “don’t be shy. use your words.”

he smirked at the way you shivered. there was that feeling between your legs. again.

“do you... um. will you come in?”

he couldn’t help but lean across to kiss you. your lips soft against his slightly rough ones, and your hands flew up to his chest and your palms rested on the warmth of his white shirt. he kissed by the book, exactly how you imagined he would, and when he took your bottom lip between his teeth and swiped his tongue along it, you yelped.

you were too innocent, like bubble wrap left unpopped. he wanted to corrupt you from the inside out.

his dick hardened in his jeans.

“want me to make sure that you get into bed safe?” you nodded and his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and in a bold move you took it into your mouth and circled your tongue around it. you'd never done that to anybody in your life. it even shocked you.

“god,” mason groaned, finding the doorhandle with his free hand, “such an obedient little girl, hm?”

23:27

when becca and savannah saw mason standing in their hallway with a playboy smirk dressed over his face and a charm they just couldn’t resist, they couldn’t quite believe it. it boded worse for you in the long run, because they now saw with their own eyes that he was standing in your hallway, and they would be pacing around the livingroom until he left in the early hours so they could finally get their answers. becca was on the netball team, so mason recognized her.

“hey, becca,” he hummed, as effortlessly as ever. as if he didn’t just make out with you on your own damn porch. “still playing netball?”

she towered over him, her five-foot twelve slim frame was the perfect one for netball and she used it to her advantage, even if she wasn’t that good at the sport.

“mhm,” she nodded, snapping out of her trance for a minute. savannah was still simply stood next to becca in awe, “thanks for bringing y/n home.”

“it was my pleasure,” he looked at you and smiled, and your entire body rocked with heat. “she’s asked me to stick around for an hour or two, if that’s okay with you two, of course?”

you couldn’t help the little smirk that quipped at the corners of your mouth and you hid your face in his bicep. mason was playing into the joke he’d made earlier at becca and savannah being your owners. the pair of them nodded, and mason looked over at you.

“where’s your bedroom, darling?”

savannah almost choked when she heard the pet name.

“uh, top floor on the left,” his hand ran down your arm and his fingers entwined with yours as he walked to the stairs, and once again you tugged on his fingers, “would you like some tea?”

mason's mind raced. your innocence really wasn’t an act. he wanted to pity you, or patronize you, or build up an orgasm until it bubbled up inside of you and you squeaked and squealed and thrashed around in his arms until you begged him to let you cum. his dick grew again, but he just smiled.

“sure, darling,” he squeezed your fingers, “milk and two sugars, please.”

you nodded and watched as he walked straight up to the top floor of the house. you averted both becca and savannah’s eyes as you walked past them through into the kitchen. pizza boxes sat on the counter, with one unopened for you.

“what the fuck was all that about?” savannah questioned.

you unintentionally ignored her, to focused on drowning out the slick between your legs. nobody had ever made you feel this way, nobody had ever left you as needy or as desperate for sex as he had. in all fairness, you’d only had sex with one person, and it wasn’t even that good.

becca snapped her fingers in front of your eyes and you zoned back into the conversation. you smiled.

“oh, uh, he walked me home and we got to talking,” you shrugged as you pulled the milk from the fridge, “turns out we get on well, so i invited him in.”

“go y/n,” savannah clapped her hands together, “finally got a sexu-”

“-bye girls, thanks for the pizza!”

as you juggled with two cups of tea and the box of unopened pizza, mason walked into your kitchen. he'd already made himself at home, it seemed, seeing as his jacket and shoes were back up in your bedroom. “need some help, princess?” he asked, and when the pet name arose again you blushed heavily, and mason took the pizza box from your hand, “see you girls later.”

23:52

“i’m so boring, aren’t i?”

you asked him. you couldn’t help it.

you were sat between his legs and watching a movie on your teeny tiny tv screen at the foot of your bed. mason's eyebrows furrowed and he stroked at the skin on your arm. he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your head.

“not at all, darling. why do you say that?”

you shrugged, too embarrassed to answer. sex never came easy to you, you were the stereotypical bookworm student. you stayed out of trouble, you did your assignments and handed them in way before they were due. you were co-editor of the student newspaper, for fucks sake. you weren't the kind of girl that brought home hot, sexy, god-like alumni into her bedroom on friday nights just for a hook up.

mason knew that, and it was all part of the reason you enamored him.

“i’m not... i just... i'm... frigid.”

mason tutted and tucked some hair behind your ear, “you aren’t frigid, darling. you just need someone to loosen you up a little bit, someone to answer to, don’t you?”

you felt his dick grow harder underneath you, and it sent a shiver up your spine. you nodded, and mason spun your head around, so you were looking at him. his breath was hot on your face and you heaved for a breath when his fingers found your thighs.

“there’s so much i wish i could do to you, little one,” you gulped audibly, a shaky, hot breath, “but i won’t do it if you aren’t ready.”

“w-what.. um, w-what do you want to do?”

mason's fingers grazed higher and higher up your leg, and he was painstakingly close to the sticky slick on your inner high thighs.

“i want to do so much to you, darling, but i fear if i tell you, you’ll break my heart,” his fingers grazed at the soaked cotton of your pants and he laughed lowly, “but then again, if i tell you, it might make you wetter than you have been all night.”

you mewled when he dragged his finger between your folds over your underwear. you opened your mouth to ask him a question, but he shushed it with his free hand, bringing the tip of his index finger to the middle of your plump lips. “is this the first time you’ve been touched here, darling?” you shook your head. “yes? no? use your words.”

“n-no, mason.”

“you’re not a virgin?”

“shockingly, no,” your sarcastic comment left mason pinching your clit over your underwear and you yelped, “i’ve had sex once before.”

“just once?” he questioned, and watched the way your body writhed when he finally pushed the damp cotton aside to stroke your clit. he could’ve growled at the feeling of your pussy in his hand. “oh, darling, you’ve got so much to learn.”

mason's fingers worked expertly on your clit, and you couldn’t help but widen your legs. he certainly found it with ease, which is more than you can say for the guy you lost your virginity to. you lifted your hips and mason helped you wriggle free from the cotton restraint, and his mouth was watering at the thought of your bare, naked pussy. he wanted to scoot around and lick it.

“was he good, baby?” mason asked, lips nibbling along the outer shell of your ear. “did he touch your clit like this, hm? or did he -” with his free hand, mason rubbed at your nipples through your dress and bra, “- roll your nipples like this? hm?”

you wriggled around and let his fingers explore your body, itching to let him touch you more. “n-no, mason. he didn’t touch me like this.”

mason tutted, “come on, baby, what did he do?”

“he used me to make himself feel good,” you hummed, getting more and more used to the fact that he was swirling your clit around with his fingers, “i didn’t enjoy anything.”

“such a shame, darling. you're gonna be used to make me feel good, but i promise you’ll enjoy it because i know how to handle innocent little girls like you,” he kissed your neck, “i was hoping to be the first person to bury myself inside your pretty little cunt, but i'll just have to be the first to do everything else.” he chuckled lowly at the way your breath hitched, and when he slapped your clit it made you jolt.

“did he ever make you cum?”

you shook your head.

“n-no, mason.”

another clit slap.

“why are you slapping me?” you pouted, “have i done something wrong?”

the confusion was evident on your face. you couldn’t figure out why he was slapping you, and the crease between your eyebrows formed. mason’s hand moved from your chest to your chin and turned your face to his. “are you going to address me by my name like a good girl?”

the crease deepened and mason couldn’t help but laugh at you, and you frowned.

“w-what?”

“are you going to be a good girl for daddy?” your heart almost jumped out of your chest. your eyes grew a shade darker with lust and mason didn’t go unnoticed. he slapped your pussy again. “answer, princess.”

“d-daddy?” you questioned, and mason almost blew a load in his pants.

“mhm, yes princess. understood?”

you nodded your head. “yes, daddy. thank you, daddy.”

he rolled his eyes and released a groan, unable to suppress it any longer, and now he could feel a wet patch of pre-cum forming in his pants. “fucking hell, babygirl, you’re gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?” he shifted, and moved so you were now sitting against the headboard and he was staring down at you. he got down to his knees, the way his breath hitched when he was face to face with your pussy made your back tingle. “do you want me to eat this pretty little cunt?”

“uh.. uhm.. okay,” you hesitated. mason noticed and began to massage your thighs with his fingers, digging into the soft flesh. “i’ve never... um. nobody has ever...”

“relax, princess, i'll make you feel good. it's all part of daddy’s job to look after his little girl.”

a rush of blood swarmed to your clit and you moaned softly at his words. he was corrupting you already. he traced the cherries on the hem of your dress, “these are pretty fruits, baby, can you tell me what they are?”

he began to kiss your inner thighs in that moment.

“uhm, they’re cherries, d-daddy.”

“mhm, well done darling,” you wriggled when his teeth sunk into the flesh of your thigh, but he soon soothed the sting when his tongue ran over it, and it formed a pretty mark of his teeth, “tell you what, princess. if anything gets too much – today, or ever – in one of these situations, you just say cherries, just like the ones on your pretty dress.”

you nodded, but you were still confused. “why do i have to say cherries though?”

“because, baby, sometimes your brain won’t be working properly and you’ll need a distinct word that means stop, do you understand?” you nodded again, and mason’s fingers traced your pussy again. he wasn’t looking at you now, his attention had been drawn to your clit, red and aching, but he was still talking. “it’s easier for daddy to pick up on that word rather than stop, baby, because sometimes i won’t be listening. i need to make sure you’re safe.”

“w-why?” you could feel his fingers swirling around your inner lips and you fought every urge for a moan.

“because, you’re my submissive, and as your dominant, i have a duty of care over you.”

you shivered at that. your head was spinning so fast it felt like it was going to fall off. mason's tongue had darted out of his mouth and licked at your clit, you jolted, but he didn’t put it away. instead, wherever your hips dragged you, he followed, his lips never leaving your clit. his tongue flicked repetitively, and his lips suctioned around it, sucking at your clit as if he were drinking through a straw.

as you wriggled, mason's arms caged your hips down onto the bed, so now you were unable to wriggle away and you cried out his name in a weak, pathetic little moan. he pulled off of your clit with a pop, “oh, babygirl,” he tutted, “you can do better than that for me, can’t you? i know you can.”

he licked a teasing stripe up your pussy and delved around your hole, where his tongue slipped inside and you yelped, bucking your hips up into his face and crying out his name again. “oh, mason... oh.. fu- your tongue.. feels so good,” the sensation tingling away inside of you was one you’d never felt during sex before, and the pad of a tongue licking and lapping at your clit felt particularly strange. “oh.. god.”

mason used his hands to part your lips further, allowing his face to be buried deeper into you and your hands sprung to his hair. he hummed against your clit as he licked, nibbled and swirled his tongue, and the pleasure was almost unbearable. he bumped your clit with his nose when his tongue slipped back inside you again, and raised his eyes so he was looking directly into yours. the contact was almost too much, and the butterflies were beginning to get overwhelming. your orgasm was fast approaching.

he held your legs open further and pushed the hem of your dress up, so it rested at your bellybutton. you could see his nose and cheeks glistening with your wetness, and the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach had begun to travel south.

“d-d-daddy... i... i can... i'm all tingly... i think i'm gonna...”

mason pulled away from you right as you felt like the dam was going to open, and you whined, thrashing around in protest. he raised an eyebrow, “you need to ask daddy for permission to cum, little one,” he slapped the inside of your thigh and you winced, biting down on your bottom lip, “because your pretty little cunt is his, and you need to ask for permission to use something you don’t own.”

oh.

he lay there, waiting patiently.

“can i please cum, daddy?”

mason was satisfied with your plea, at least for now. he wasn’t going to have you begging until you cried this time. “of course, princess,” he hummed, delving back into your pussy. you mewled and he mumbled against your clit, “daddy’s pretty little cunt.”

with that, your orgasm hit you. you thrashed around at the feeling, lifting your hips off the bed. immediately, mason’s hands splayed under your bum, holding you up as he continued to eat like his last meal. you cried out, almost screaming at the sensation. becca always talked about her boyfriend doing this, and you never understood why she liked it so much – until now.

you tapped at mason’s head when you couldn’t take it anymore, and he pulled off of your clit with a pop. his entire chin glistened, and it ignited a fire in your eyes. arousal seeped through your veins, and mason couldn’t help but laugh against your lips when you sat up and pulled him closer by the collar of his knitted jumper.

in a bold move, your hand dropped to his crotch and you felt his dick, rock hard and straining his jeans. you blushed upon having the realisation that you’d never sucked anyone off before, and you were almost definitely about to suck off mason. that, and his dick felt fucking huge.

“what’s up, little one?”

mason pulled away from your lips and tucked the loose hair behind your ear, and you couldn’t help but bury your head into his neck. he hooked his hand under your cheek and lifted you up softly, looking deep into your eyes. there was a moment of peace, where he scanned your eyes for any discomfort, but you were determined to see it through.

“it feels... big.”

your cheeks felt hotter than the sahara desert by this point, and mason chuckled at your innocence.

“do you think so, babygirl?” he questioned, and his fingers curled around yours and made you squeeze at it. he groaned at the contact. “should we see if you’re right, hm?”

you nodded eagerly, and mason almost fainted when your eyes grew black with lust. he placed your hand firmly back into your lap, and he stood up to pull his shirt off. you almost drooled at the sight of his naked torso, and the tattoo’s scattered around it. he unlooped his belt effortlessly, and within seconds his jeans were tossed to the floor. his dick was so hard that the tip poked out from the waistband of his jeans, red and desperate for some attention.

he kept his eyes on yours to gage your reaction as he pulled down his boxers. you were right. it was huge. and thick. it inflated mason’s ego to triple the size it already was, and he loved how easy you were becoming, but this was only the tip of the iceberg. he wanted to make you his, and by the end of the night, he would make sure you were the only girl that he was corrupting.

“t-that’s supposed to fit... i-inside me?”

“mhm,” mason’s hand jacked himself off as he stood up at the edge of the bed, your head at the perfect height to suck. “it will, baby, and it will hurt, but i'll make it fit, you haven’t got to worry about a thing,” he pinched your cheek and you subconsciously smiled. commotion went on outside your bedroom door, one of your housemates was sneaking along the landing, and it caught your attention, but mason pulled your head back to face him with his finger hooked under your chin, “it’s not gonna suck itself, darling.”

you gulped. “i’ve... i haven’t... you're going to have to teach me, daddy.”

mason had to stop jacking himself off and pause for a moment in fear of ejaculating all over your face at the sentence that just left your mouth.

“okay, princess, but first you’ll need to take this off,” he ruffled the hem of your dress and you frowned, “don’t give me that look, babygirl. it's only fair.”

you hooked your arms out of your bra and dress all in one, and mason helped you step out of it steadily. his breath hitched when he saw you naked, drinking in the sight of your naked body. you'd never looked more beautiful, and he’d never been so desperate to be buried inside of someone.

he leaned down to kiss your lips, and then slid down onto the bed, so his head was at the pillows. you followed suite, kneeling down at his side. he guided your hand to his dick silently, and you giggled softly when he helped you move your hand up and down, “that’s good, baby,” he said, running his fingers up to your wrist to loosen the movement slightly, “now lean over so your mouth is hovering over it, and spit on the head.”

“t-the head?”

“the tip, baby, the tip,” mason chuckled at your innocence, and you did as he asked. spit hung from the tip of your outsplayed tongue and trickled down to the head of his penis. as you smeared it around with your hand, your thumb ran over the slit of his dick and he jolted, a groan tumbling from his lips. your eyes shot up to face him, looking like a dear in the headlights as you feared you did something wrong, but mason shook his head. “that’s good darling, so good. why don’t you – fuck – why don’t you try and take it in your mouth.”

you leaned down, so your lips were millimeters from his dick, and took a deep breath. you’d always envisioned doing this, and who it would be with, and none of your fantasies could ever compare to this.

your lips pursed around the head, taking just that into your mouth and looking up at mason through your eyelashes. he seemed to like that a lot judging by the way he looked down at you and nodded. “okay, little one, you’re doing such a good job,” he patted your head subconsciously, “now, alternate between bobbing your head, twisting your hand and running your tongue around the head. just get a feel for it, darling, okay? i don’t want to cum just yet.”

you nodded, and much to your surprise you enjoyed the compromising position you had been put in. mason made it feel so easy, so comfortable, and it made your heart flutter and your pussy throb. you began to bob your head gradually, taking more and more in with every move. mason admired your innocence and every time he remembered that his dick was the first one you’d had inside your mouth – your sweet, innocent, virgin mouth – he wanted to bust a load.

“oh god, yes, little one,” mason’s hand bunched your hair up in his hand out of habit, and you gagged around him as he thrusted up into your mouth ever so slightly, “you’re doing so well for me, got such a pretty little mouth.”

you moaned, and the vibrations sent shockwaves up his dick and all over his body. he thrusted up into your mouth and you gagged again, your eyes watering at the sensation but you liked it. “play with my – fuck – play with my balls, baby, just squeeze them gently,” mason cooed, smoothing your cheeks with his free hand, and you did as you were told, halting the movements of your hand stroking his dick so you could use it to stabilize you as you fondled his balls. he groaned loudly, “fuuuck, baby. that's it, such a good little girl.”

he thrusted up into your mouth again and this time spit came spluttering out of your mouth and landed along the prickly skin around his pubic bone. your eyes watered again, so much so that the tears soaked your eyelashes and mason lowered his hips. “you okay, baby? do you wanna stop?”

you nodded sheepishly. mason's dick fell from your mouth and the tip rested at his bellybutton. he noticed your knotted eyebrows, “what’s up, darling?”

“my mouth.. it tastes weird.”

he chuckled and couldn’t believe how innocent you were.

“that’s because it’s no longer a virgin mouth, little one. it's now forever tainted with the taste of my pre-cum,” he leaned over and kissed your lips, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, “you’re going to be tainted with my taste forever now, baby. never getting rid of me.”

he used his strength to roll you over, so you were now laying with your head at the pillows. he admired how pretty you looked. anxiety pounded in your chest, and you suddenly got overwhelmed, but you knew it would pass, it was just nerves. mason noticed, and tucked some hair behind your ear.

“do you remember your word, darling?”

“cherries, daddy.”

“good girl,” he leaned down to kiss your lips, “if you want daddy to stop, you need to use that word, understood?”

“mhm,” you nodded, and leaned up to kiss him. he chuckled at your neediness. “there’s.. um... i have... in the bathroom cabinet.. there’s some... condoms.”

“daddy’s shy little girl wants him to fuck her, hm?”

you mewled underneath him and fought off a blush by buring your head in the pillows when his finger grazed between your folds, and you jolted at the sensitivity, “please, daddy, i... i... i need it. i need you.”

mason fought back the urge to fuck you raw.

“babygirl, listen to yourself beg for me,” he tutted, standing up and slipping on your dressing gown momentarily to go to the bathroom, “such a naughty little thing, hm? weren’t like this an hour ago. i've turned you into a little slut, haven’t i?”

the last part of the sentence was partially shouted as he wandered into the bathroom you shared with another housemate, and you could’ve died there and then. you only hoped everyone else was minding their own damn business.

he came back with a handful of condoms, and the dressing gown was tossed to the floor with the rest of the clothes. “go on, baby, say you’re daddy’s little slut,” he teased, “otherwise i'll leave you high and dry, begging for my cock all night.”

your cheeks heated up as you opened your mouth. mason stood there, cock on full display, waiting patiently. you took a breath, “you’ve turned me into a little slut, daddy.”

he made a satisfied hum noise and ripped the condom open with ease. you watched as he rolled it on and he climbed back on the bed, the sheer touch of his skin on yours leaving you with goosebumps. his fingers ran through your folds again and your wetness was enough.

his hand outstretched your leg, so it was out at an angle to the side while the other was bent at the knee draped over his shoulder. you moaned at the feeling of being poked and prodded so he could get you exactly how he wanted you.

you squirmed with anticipation as mason guided himself to your pussy, and when he slipped inside you let out a strangled, desperate moan. every time you thought his dick was fully inside of you, you were proved wrong, and with the angle of your legs, he only penetrated you deeper. he groaned at your tightness and the way his dick seemed to slot perfectly inside you.

“fuck, little one,” his pubic bone hit your skin and he successfully buried himself to the hilt inside of you. “your cunt is so wet and tight, fits me so well, like it was made for me.”

you mewled at his words and attempted to buy your head in the pillows beside you but mason grabbed your chin with his hand and forced you to look at him above you. he pulled out and pushed back in the whole way once again. “don’t you ever look away,” his fingers squeezed at your cheeks and moved down your face until they gripped at your neck, “daddy always wants to see the way your eyes roll back when he hits -” mason raised his hips up so the angle of his hips changed ever so slightly and he smirked when your eyes rolled back with a moan of his name, “that spot. such a naughty little girl.”

“mhm,” you mumbled, already feeling a pressure building between your hips, “your naughty little girl, daddy.”

“fuckin’ right,” mason's fingers squeezed your neck in approval, “daddy’s dirty little girl, you’re filthy, aren’t you?”

you could feel him hitting so deep inside of you and the way his hips slowed with each pull out had you on the verge of screaming. your headboard began to thud dully against the wall and you couldn’t help but let out a long, drawn out moan.

“gonna wake up the house if you keep moaning like a whore, baby,” mason cooed, pushing himself forward so the stretch in your legs began to sting and the angle of his dick grew deeper, “i can feel you clenching my dick, darling. such a tight little pussy.”

your hands gripped at his shoulders and mason’s head dropped between your bodies so he could watch himself slipping in and out of your pussy. the angle of your body underneath him was driving him insane and he couldn’t help it when a moan slipped past his lips.

the closer you got to an orgasm, the louder you became, and it only spurred mason on further. he was itching to get you cumming, and so when his fingers brushed your clit and you almost screamed in pleasure, he smirked. you were almost positive that savannah and becca could hear the entire thing from their rooms on the bottom floor.

“d-daddy...”

mason smiled, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “yes, little one?”

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried, arching your back up off the bed, “please, daddy.”

mason tutted. you were going to have to beg a lot better than that.

“come on, darling, you can beg better than that,” he left a kiss to your jawline, “i know you turn into a mindless whore when you’re being fucked, but that was pathetic.”

you squeaked and clenched around his dick again. your body was in overdrive and with every thrust it felt like you were going to explode.

“d-daddy... please,” you choked, throat running dry, “p-please, i need to cum, i'll do anything, p-please, daddy.”

“you’ll do anything? oh, darling. i wouldn’t say something like that if you don’t mean it.”

“please, i’m so close,” you were panting now, fighting off your orgasm with every passing second. mason leaned down to kiss your lips hotly, pulling your lip between his teeth and biting down so hard he almost drew blood, “please.”

your begging attempt was satisfactory. for now.

“go on then, darling,” he drawled, “cum for daddy like a good girl.”

you couldn’t help the scream that left your mouth, and your orgasm shook your body so hard that it left your limbs twitching. this orgasm seemed to be more fulfilling, and lasted longer than the others you’d had this evening. your clenching pussy triggered mason’s orgasm, and despite the fact he came into the condom, you could still feel the heat of his cum inside of you.

it was only when you noticed the wet sheets underneath your bum and mason’s wet torso that your eyebrows furrowed.

“fucking hell, little one,” mason groaned, pulling out of you and looking down at the seeping sheets, “look at the mess you’ve made.”

“what happened...? what did i do?”

it had only just dawned on mason that you were completely clueless. this was the first time you’d ever squirted.

“you just wet the bed, babygirl,” he rolled to the side of you and your eyebrows furrowed, “daddy fucked you so well and so deep that you squirted.”

he admired the way your eyes widened, and he smirked. if he wasn’t sure about keeping you in his life before, he was definitely going to keep you around now. you yawned, completely and utterly exhausted from the night’s events, and mason pushed the sweaty hair out of your face, “we need to get you clean, sweetheart.”

“mm, tired,” was all you could say, fighting off a yawn, “just wanna sleep.”

mason stood up and slipped your dressing gown back over his shoulders. your eyelids continued to flutter, and you would’ve fallen asleep had he not have handed you his shirt and boxers, “come on, darling, you need to clean yourself up,” you sighed but obeyed his words, pulling the shirt over your head, “i’ll help you put fresh sheets on too, okay?”

his hand looped through yours as he guided you to your bathroom, and your eyebrows furrowed again. mason began to run the water and you sat on the toilet seat. “you’re helping?” you asked, scrunching your nose, “i thought you were just going to leave.”

mason laughed. you really were clueless, and it was adorable to him.

“you really think i'd fuck you like that and then just walk away?” mason raised an eyebrow, and once again, the thought dawned on him that that’s exactly what happened to you after your first time. that was all you’d ever known. “oh, sweetheart, no, i wouldn’t ever do that to you.”

he tested the temperature of the water with the tips of his fingers, and helped you wriggle out of his shirt as you stepped into it. he kissed your forehead as you rested your arms on the side of the bath.

“pack a bag and come to my house next weekend,” he said nonchalantly, and suddenly, all your exhaustion had dissipated, “please.”

“y-you want me to...”

“i’m not asking you, y/n,” his stern bedroom voice had returned and it sent shivers down your spine, “i’m telling you.”

your heart settled in your chest and he smiled against your lips when you leaned over the bath and kissed him. “i’ll stay at yours if you stay here.”

“i wasn’t planning on going anywhere, darling,” he kissed your nose, “you’re going to get sick of me.”

you smiled.

“impossible.”

#mason mount #mason mount x oc #mason mount x yn #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x you #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount drabble #mason mount fic #mason mount imagine #footballer x you #footballer x yn #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #football smut

2K notes · View notes

suzayaaa · 2 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ LEAVE, NOW ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: jeno x fem!reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.6k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: angst, breakup

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: cursing, cheating

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: can i just say i’m proud of this one…

𓆩⟡𓆪 requested by some of you!

𓆩⟡𓆪 this is an additional part 2 of jeno’s texts in “when will you leave me?” post, but it also works as a separate oneshot if you don’t want to read the texts.

It hurt.

Your heart, your mind, your body. No part of you was able to keep itself strong, to have any kind of energy to be. You were tied to your bed, sinking into the cold sheets with each move like a lifeless animal on its last breath. The breath that hurt so much, grabbing your sore heart and squeezing it violently as you shut your eyes with tears down your cheeks because no matter where you looked, Jeno was there.

The sheets you were lying in wore the scent of his musky cologne. Most of the pictures on your wall were with him, of him, or the moments spent with him. Hell, even the wrinkled t-shirt you were wearing was his. But the worst of all, you only had him in your mind.

No matter where you went and what you did, he followed you like a spell that had to be undone by a witch to let go. In a way, he did put a spell on you—the moment that caused all of this replayed in your head like a broken record, mocking you ruthlessly until you begged on your knees to stop this madness.

The words you’d never imagined to hear, the situation you’d never imagined to happen.

It was a pretty day. Clouds formed what you could call a shadow of blinding sunlight dodging the skyscrapers to reach and lit up your face. A perfect day to surprise Jeno.

You did most of it almost automatically, like a routine. A takeout from his favorite restaurant in one hand and a bag filled with your clothes and skincare products in the other; everything needed for a sleepover.

After three years of calling yourself boyfriend and girlfriend, you were bound to have some sort of security in your relationship and maybe even further and more serious plans for the future. Jeno had suggested first to add your fingerprint to the doorlock of his apartment. You didn’t mind not having it before, but the offer made you smile. It sounded like the next, although tiny, step in your relationship.

You unlocked the door and entered quietly, hoping he wouldn’t be anywhere near the entrance. Just as you were about to put the bags down and take your shoes off, you heard two familiar male voices, but the words were more distant than ever.

“Wait, so you cheated?” Mark asked, voice cracking slightly.

The silence was excruciatingly long. Your heart froze, bruising with each second passing.

“We talked, then she kissed me.” Another pause, shorter, yet more damaging. “It was good… I felt something I never felt with her.”

Her.

He couldn’t even say your name properly.

You were a fool. A stupid, hopeless, desperate fool.

You were now just her, yet you still waited and hoped for him to reach out to you, explain himself, and apologize.

You damned yourself over and over and over again. You were the one who got hurt. Why did you want him back if he stabbed you right in the heart and twisted the knife inside?

Why did you want a cheater back?

Those words wouldn’t leave your mind even for a moment, trapping you in a self-pitying bubble that was too strong and too painful to break through.

You checked the time on your phone. It was still early afternoon, but time wanted to torture you, slowing down and rolling at its own distorted pace to make sure you took a hit with every thought that crossed your mind. Your phone was dry. The only notifications were a daily reminder from a mobile game you haven’t played for a good week and a text from Jaemin you were not ready to deal with yet. Swiping your fingers on both, your eyes clung to the lockscreen for a moment. Just yesterday you would smile looking at it; you and Jeno, beaming to the camera in a cat cafe. He was always so sweet, then he decided to ruin you in the worst way possible. You opened settings, quickly changing the photo to something that would sting your soul a little less. Now it was an old photo of your family dog that never liked you that much to begin with, but dislike was still better than betrayal.

The doorbell sound rang in your ears, forcing you to get up from your bed. You dragged your feet on the cold floor and made your way to the door. Your hand reached for the handle, opening it slowly, not expecting anyone. The sight knocked you down more than any bullet ever could.

Na Jaemin with a firm frown and behind him, the reason for it all.

Lee Jeno.

You wondered if this was how you’d looked like when you’d found out. Eyes glued to the floor, hunched back, arms limp, head down… Did you also look so lost, like the ground was sweeping from under your feet brutally slowly, letting you fall and bruise your body, letting your body take the damage for your mind? Did you also crumble to the ground, looking for any steady thing to hold onto, because hope wasn’t one of those things anymore?

You’d thought you would feel if you saw him. You imagined yourself over a hundred times screaming your lungs out at him, ripping the skin away from his bones, ending his world just like he ended yours.

You should’ve been mad. You should’ve grabbed him by his hoodie and torn him apart to pieces. You should’ve made his heart bleed slowly and painfully, blood dripping on the floor one by one, drip, drip, drip until he was drowning in it. You should’ve ripped your throat yelling every insult you could think of into his face.

You were static. No screams, no cries, no choked-up laughs. You just looked at him, trying to meet his eyes for once. You wanted to get into his arms, cry into his chest, silently blame him for all the pain he had caused. You wanted to understand, but you have never wanted his pain. You have never wanted him to be the same wreck you were now, because nothing hurt more than seeing someone you love being hurt.

“I’m sorry for bringing him,” Jaemin glared at his friend, “but I think he needs to explain himself. It’s better for both of you if you do it immediately.”

Jaemin bowed his head to you, eyes softening in a mix of pity and compassion when he looked at you. He didn’t say anything more, opting to leave you both alone with no choice but to face the inevitable.

“I’m sor-”

“Take your things please.”

Serenity was the look on his face when his eyes met yours. It was clear, clearer than the day you’d found out, that he already knew and expected.

“You won’t even let me explain?”

“Get inside and take your things.”

You didn’t want to let him talk. If you did, your mind would listen to your heart and you would let him stay a little longer.

You watched him get past you into your apartment, muscle memory leading him to your bedroom. You followed him, but stayed at the door. He was quick to start shuffling around your room, taking any belongings of his he could see.

Jeno had always been careful. Those little details you forgot about, like leaving your jewelry in your bathroom after showering or losing your phone somewhere in the sheets every time the alarm went off, Jeno had never missed out on. He almost knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew how to wound you and he still did it, even adding salt to it, making sure the suffering was obvious.

You watched him throw his clothes into the bag he’d once left at your place, arms crossed and a sour frown on your dried face. His back was facing you, thankfully, because you wouldn’t be able to say the things you wanted to his face without shattering your soul entirely.

“I thought I knew you,” you started. Jeno halted his movements, but didn’t turn around, “I thought you were…” the one? No. You wouldn’t say it to him now, he didn’t deserve to know. Choking the tears inside, you continued, fists turning into stone, knuckles white, hiccups turning into venom on your tongue, “You were so casual saying it… You don’t even regret it, do you? You don’t fucking care. You never did.”

Jeno’s voice was hoarse, barely audible even in the uncomfortable silence. “I did.”

A scoff and a single laughter. “No. If you did, you would think about me at that moment. You would think about hurting me, you would care about me, but you didn’t. You don’t care… You know what? Nevermind. Leave, Jaemin will take your shit.”

The bag dropped on the floor with a thud. No words were said anymore, nothing needed to be said; it was over. You met Jeno’s eyes for the last time, stone cold, as if you were a burden or a meaningless obstacle on his way. His shoulder was harsh when he bumped into you, and for a short moment when he’d reached for the door, you hoped.

Maybe a simple sorry would do, maybe it would only crush you more. You wouldn’t know, you let his actions speak instead of words.

The door slam was your goodbye.

Tears flooded your already swollen face, your whole body shaking uncontrollably, sinking into the floor. At that moment, a memory echoed in your mind. A piece of conversation with Jeno you would’ve never thought about, but now, when it was all you could hear, a bitter smile barely creeping up to your face, realizing you always knew.

“When will you leave me?”

“I won’t, baby.”

“Don’t lie, everybody leaves. Some just do it later than others.”

319 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 7 months

Text

The Devil Made Me Do It *Mature* 👻

Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader

Word Count: 9.8k

Warning: M - Secrets, Mystery, Alcohol Use, Scares, Costumes, Flirting, Teasing, Language, Mysterious Behavior, Longing, Fluff, Angst, Co-Workers to Lovers - SMUT - Unprotected sex, Fingering: (F - Receiving), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral: (F - Receiving), Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Praise, Dirty Talk, Possible Corruption and Dub-Con, Light Dom, Aftercare

Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!

“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.

“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”

“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.

“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”

“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.

“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.

You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.

“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.

“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”

Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'

“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.

Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.

You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.

Maggie: Fancy!

During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.

“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.

“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.

Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.

“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.

It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.

“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.

“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.

“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”

“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.

“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.

“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.

“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”

“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”

He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.

“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”

Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.

You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.

“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.

“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.

“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.

Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.

“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.

“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.

“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”

“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.

“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”

“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.

“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.

“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.

“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.

“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”

“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”

“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”

Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”

You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.

There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.

“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.

“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.

“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”

“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.

Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”

“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.

Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.

“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.

“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.

“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.

The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.

“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.

“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.

Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”

“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.

“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”

“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.

“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”

“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”

He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.

“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.

Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.

“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.

Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.

“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.

“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.

You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.

Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.

The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.

“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.

“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.

“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.

Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.

“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.

“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.

“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.

The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.

“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.

“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.

“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.

“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.

“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.

“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.

After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.

“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.

“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.

“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”

“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.

Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.

“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.

“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.

“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.

It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?

Screw it!

You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.

“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.

His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.

“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.

You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.

“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.

Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.

“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”

Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.

“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.

“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.

“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”

Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.

“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.

“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.

Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.

You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.

“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.

Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.

“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.

“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”

“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.” “I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.

“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”

“And you.” He called back.

“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”

“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.

Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.

“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.

He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.

“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.

“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”

“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.

“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.

You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.

“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.

“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit. Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.

Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.

“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.

“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.

Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.

“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.

Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.

Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.

“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.

“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.

“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”

“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.

“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.

Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.

August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.

Alerting him that he had shown up.

He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.

Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.

“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.

Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.

“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.

A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.

You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.

“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.

“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.

Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.

“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.

You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.

“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.

“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.

Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.

“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.

“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.

Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.

“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”

“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.

Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.

“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.

“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.

It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.

You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.

A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.

“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.

Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.

August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.

“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.

“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.

August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.

“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”

“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.

“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.

“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.

“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.

Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.

“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.

“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.

“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.

“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.

“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.

“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.

“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.

The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.

“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.

“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.

“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.

Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.

“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.

“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.

“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”

Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.

“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”

“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”

“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”

“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”

“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.

You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”

Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.

“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.

“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.

“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.

You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.

Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.

“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.

“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.

253 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

Note

Namjoon + “sibling’s best friend” except the sibling has been rooting for them to get together for years

combined with your other namjoon request 💕🫶🏻

Namjoon + “stuck in an elevator” bc god of destruction or simply bad luck idm either

the one with namjoon and the u-haul

ft. jeon!reader, moving day, a mild age gap, jk being a lil shit as usual, and blondejoon 🥵 (cw: claustrophobia / brief depiction of a would-be anxiety attack)

If you ever managed to get your hands on your brother, you might kill him.

Of course, you’d have to find him first — and if your sixteen unanswered calls were any indication, Jeon Jungkook might’ve left this mortal coil already. Unfortunately for you and the rented U-Haul parked outside your apartment building, you needed that evasive little shit and his inhuman stamina.

More importantly, you’d needed him an hour ago when that rental clock started ticking.

The minutes you’d burned up already — firing text after unacknowledged text at your twin — were ones you’d quite literally pay for later in the form of late fees. Jungkook knew this, knew you, knew that your neurotic, Type-A brain had calculated exactly how much time would be needed for the two of you to orchestrate your cross-town move. Just like he knew you were simultaneously too weak to move these boxes yourself; and too poor to shell out for the full-day rental package or professional movers.

And yet, there he wasn’t.

You’d worn crop circles into the carpet already with your relentless pacing. One more step, and the pedometer built into your Apple Watch might give up altogether, explode into a cloud of sparks around your wrist. Worse, it might send out an emergency alert to the nearest mobile crisis unit and get your ass pink-slipped. Maybe, you think, you should try being still for once in your life.

You hit the brakes so suddenly that the inertia makes you wobble, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let that anxious momentum drop you unceremoniously onto the nearby sofa.

The one was supposed to be loaded up an hour ago.

Not that you’re counting.

Just as soon as you slump with a huff into the cushions, a rhythmic knock at your door yanks you back to your feet. All you see is red as you stagger over a sea of cardboard boxes, wind your way through garment bags, odds and ends to reach the entrance to your apartment. Your hand snaps like a bear trap around the doorknob when you finally clear the obstacle course; and you nearly rip the door off its hinges when your rage propels it open.

The preparatory breath you’d sucked in — gunpowder in your lungs, ready to pop off at your unbelievably tardy brother — instead leaves you in a startled gasp:

“Oh, God.”

Immediately, your face begins to burn with embarrassment. You don’t know what to do with your hands, either; they’re still balled up into fists and ready to swing. Fuck! Sweaty palms! You wipe them furiously on the back pockets of your denim shorts and try to keep the rest of you from liquifying.

“Actually,” comes a surprisingly soft voice from a body so contrary, “It’s pronounced Namjoon.”

Oh, no, no, no, no.

Not that lopsided, tight-lipped smile.

Anything but that.

You, a fool, blurt out the obvious, “You’re not Jungkook.”

Of course, this offering is worthless. The twerp who entered this world three minutes before you was sixty-three minutes late; and his friend — the one you still can’t believe Jungkook manages to keep — was standing in his place. His older, smarter friend, whose massive hands you picture when you —

Kim Namjoon has a laugh that makes less noise the more he means it. Based on the melodic little hiss that erupts in response to your declaration, he finds your buffoonery hilarious.

You are not long for this world, you fear.

“Got me there,” he concedes. Looking up to find him beaming at you, you’re not surprised that staring at his grin — the one that shows all his teeth and makes his eyes crinkle — feels a lot like staring into the sun.

Don’t you dare faint. You’ve survived three years with that face. You can and will be normal about this.

As if that wasn’t enough, Namjoon has the audacity to lay his palm flush against the door jam above your head and lean down and — shit, his biceps just look like that? All the time?

You’re already a puddle at his feet when Namjoon hums, “Heard you needed an extra set of hands.”

You want to ask if he’s psychic — his hands, in any context, are precisely what you need — but you don’t. You clear your throat and throw on your best approximation of nonchalance. Cross your arms over your chest in a way you hope looks casual, tilt your head to the side.

You raise a single eyebrow before responding, laying it on thick, “So, he lives, huh? Texts you but not his own flesh and blood? Sends his poor hyung as a proxy?”

“I have free will, you know,” Namjoon chides you without any real heat. “And a free afternoon, too.”

He then shrugs his shoulders before pointing over yours. The target he’s acquired sits at the very edge of your peripheral vision, a beast in velvet upholstery. His grin is downright impish when he continues, “Unless your plan is to yeet that couch straight off the balcony, I suspect your options here are limited.”

If you’d been given the opportunity, you’re confident that you may have come up with some witty remark. Instead of ongoing banter, you get a hand on either side of your waist, picking you up and moving your rag doll body out of the doorway. Namjoon smirks as he sets you down, ignores your slacked jaw, and invites himself into your apartment.

On his way to the couch, he spots something that catches his eye. He pauses, bends down towards a laundry basket full of assorted bullshit, and pulls out what can only be described as a cursed object. It’s your most hideous and most beloved possession, having joined you in every major move since you left your parents’ house: a ceramic shelf-sitter in the form of a rooster, the body of which is entirely made of sculpted fruits.

Namjoon is absolutely baffled by it, open mouth forming a circle as he stares down at his discovery. You should be baffled, you think, it’s God’s ugliest creation. Then, as if the force of his quiet blinking was too much for it to handle, the bunch of bananas composing its tail feathers pops off and promptly falls to the ground.

Horrified, he watches in slow motion as it hits the hardwood below with a thump. You watch as his shoulders sag; unable to tell whether the fond little tug in your chest is based on your weird, broken art, or how completely crushed he looks.

“Ah, fuck. I’m sorry!” He gasps, ducking down to grab the runaway appendage. Fuck the bird — it’s him. Then, he mutters directly to the object looking laughably small in his palm, “What’d you do me like that for? Rude as hell.”

Instinctively, you cross to where Namjoon stands in the center of your living room. When you reach him, you feel him brace himself for your reaction; but all you do is bend at the waist, grab a small tube of super glue from that same laundry basket, and hold it up. He glances from your fingers to your face.

“A must-have when you break shit as often as I do,” you chirp. Then, you gesture with your free hand to the basket. His gaze follows and locks onto the small, strawberry knee joint that you’d accidentally severed as you packed. To say that his eyes light up is an understatement.

Namjoon taps at the “made in” sticker on the bottom of the rooster and smirks, “This is what you get for buying American, honestly.”

_____

You didn’t have “spending time with Kim Namjoon” on today’s bingo card, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Lucky for you, he was stronger than your idiot brother and infinitely less frustrating to be around. The pair of you moved around your apartment like you were ballroom dancing; neither of you needing the steps called out to know them. It was easy, it was synchronized, and you didn’t have to beg him to stay on task.

Absolute none of that would be the case if your day had gone as planned.

In thirty minutes’ time, all of your possessions had been loaded into the U-Haul except one: the couch. Due to its bulkiness, you knew it’d be difficult to maneuver despite its relatively light weight.

Namjoon, boasting more brain cells than you by a long-shot, had suggested using the elevator. So long as it was angled properly, he reasoned, the two of you could make it fit without issue. Then, you wouldn’t need to wrangle the first neighbor you came across to help you pivot the blasted thing around every stairwell.

It was a short trip, only four floors, so you’d decided not to explain why you’d taken the stairs for every previous run of boxes.

Maybe you should have, because forty-five minutes have passed since you entered that elevator, and you are swiftly running out of ways to pretend that you’re fine.

From where you sit cross-legged on the elevator floor, you can hardly see Namjoon, who is believed to exist somewhere on the other side of your couch. Every now and then, there’d been a flash of blonde hair next to one of the couch’s arms — proof of life — but he’s more often invisible than not.

You’re okay with that fact, you realize. It means he can’t see the way your anxiety is manifesting only half a meter away from him.

“D’you think this call button even works?” He calls out to you, unknowingly contributing to the cold sweat slicking the small of your back, “I’ve pressed it a hundred times and — as you know — we haven’t been rescued.”

You wonder if you sound as strangled as you feel. Throat tight, you mutter, “Nothing in this building works. ‘S part of why I’m moving.”

Apparently, you do sound as strangled as you feel. You hear shifting in Namjoon’s corner of the elevator, and then you see his face materialize near the bottom of the couch. His eyebrows were initially furrowed, but the concern he carried there migrated. It settles and causes his eyes to widen when they find you.

“You alright?” He asks immediately. Sweetly.

In the grand scheme of things, yes, you would concede that you are — generally — more or less alright. You’ve been in worse places with worse company, and relatively speaking, this isn’t your ultimate nightmare. You’re capable of far greater panic than this.

In this moment, however, in this godforsaken metal box with walls that feel like they’re getting closer by the second, and stale air that gets heavier and heavier when you try to breathe it into your lungs, the walls of which are also getting —

Namjoon answers for you, decidedly but without even a hint of judgement, “You’re not alright.”

There’s more shuffling from the corner. Within a few moments, he manages to wriggle himself into a standing position. With two hands now on the couch’s spine, he glances urgently in your direction. His eyes soften, but you’re distracted by the loose lock of blonde hair that falls over his forehead, over them.

“If I find a way to you, does that make it better or worse?”

Of course, big-brain Kim Namjoon has the sense to ask. Of course, he’s emotionally intelligent enough to realize that joining you in your space could either calm your anxiety, or force it into X-Games mode. Of course, you feel like you’re being hydraulically pressed, so you don’t have the available brain cells to run a proper cost-benefit analysis.

So, you peep, “I — uhh, I don’t know?”

He purses his lips like he’s trying not to smile — because, as you’ve learned, he’s a good fucking person — but you feel a little bit less like you’re actively dying when you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. Taking that gut reaction at face value, you swallow and wordlessly wave him over.

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

The way he grunts softly when he single-handedly pushes the couch further upright would make your whole body clench if it wasn’t already. The same is true of your rapid heart rate and the simmering desire to swoon. Wait — it’s called “fainting” if it’s a medical event, right? Whatever it is, the urge only gets stronger when he slots himself into the tiny bit of space at your side.

“Here — Oh, hang on,” He says, prompting you to look his way.

Your eyes catch him just in time to watch him wipe his hand off on his jeans, then hold it out to you. Without a second thought, you accept it. Squeezing slightly to express your gratitude, you smile and let your joint hands rest against your thigh. Like a shot of clonazepam, he has you calm in an instant.

A few moments of silence pass comfortably. Eventually, when your pulse returns to safety, you tilt your head back against the metal wall behind you and gaze upwards. The ceiling is back where it belongs, no longer inching towards you with the intent to flatten you against the floor. You breathe deeply then sigh out the exhale.

“I’m so glad I’m not trapped in here with Jungkook,” you announce, “If he were here, he’d be jumping up and down to try to get this thing to move, and I’d be nerve-barfing everywhere.”

“Good god,” Namjoon snorts. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye; he’s thoroughly amused, not at all grossed out by the picture you’ve painted. You know I’m right, you think.

It’s not clear if he knows you’re watching when his smile turns shy. He says it quietly, like he’s divulging some heavy secret, “Glad I called him off, then.”

You hum in agreement before those words actually register in your distinctly soup-like brain. When they finally do, you tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes at him in confusion. For the first time in three years, he gets to hear what it sounds like when you buffer in real time:

“Sorry, you — huh?”

The math isn’t adding up. The science isn’t — doing whatever it is that science does. The words? Well, they’re failing you. You’ve got nothing.

Namjoon’s free hand rubs against the back of his neck. He smiles sheepishly, so damn cutely. For a second, he nibbles on his bottom lip before coming clean, “I may have asked Jungkook if I could sub in today.”

No thoughts, head empty, just wide-eyed blinking. It’s all you’re capable of with your stomach doing backflips the way it is.

“He was — umm — more than happy to switch swifts, you know?”

Of course, he was. Jungkook is a brat.

Namjoon chuckles and it’s then that you realize you’d broadcasted your thoughts out loud. He shakes his head as if you hadn’t just spit objective fact out into the elevator. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to follow the plot.

“For being an older brother, Kook’s a surprisingly good wing-man.”

Your jaw drops. Finger raised, you interject immediately, all piss and vinegar. “Joon, he is three minutes older. Don’t you dare give him credit for that. His ego’s already hit the ceiling, and I am not calling him oppa —”

Namjoon purses his lips again. The corner of his mouth ticks upward again. He’s apparently waiting for a response that you haven’t given him, again. Your sentence dies out before you can punctuate it.

Oh. Did you —?

Eyes as big as the moon, you sputter, “Wing man?”

“There you go, champ,” he laughs, affectionately nudging your shoulder with his. “Is that lag one of those twin things people talk about, or —?”

You land a playful smack on his bicep, but let your hand linger. Not unlike the way he’d done twice before, you pinch your lips together and try not to grin like the fool you are. Taking advantage of your pause, Namjoon reaches across his body with his free arm and peels your palm from his bicep. He keeps on holding it and you only melt a little bit.

It takes effort on your part, but you squirm in your spot until you’re able to face him more fully.

“Namjoon, you have to tell me the truth,” you demand. You squint back at him, narrowed eyes emphasizing the dramatic tone you’ve taken. “Did you or did you not break this elevator on purpose?”

He laughs so hard that it’s silent. His heads ducks down, too, until his forehead rests gently against your shoulder. From there, he sighs, “I did not break this elevator on purpose.”

After a pause, he sits back up, handcuffs his gaze to yours, then grins with all his teeth. “I’d be a fool not to capitalize on the opportunity, though.”

You close the distance and kiss him with all you’ve got, cotton-candy sweet and fresh-linen soft. It’s easy — the way it felt when your busy bodies swirled around your living room, never once stumbling — and you swear you hear bells ringing.

Namjoon pulls away breathless. He begins to ask the question, but the gentle lurch of the elevator answers before he can finish.

#jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #knj #2k drabblepalooza #re: the one with namjoon and the u-haul #kim namjoon #namjoon #bts #bts drabble #namjoon drabble #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

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2frosty4you · 11 months

Note

Fem reader accidentally flustering the mercs by something she did or said and not understanding why (merc) is so flushed and stumbling over his words? :3

Flustering the mercs [Drabbles]

Fem Reader flustering the mercs :3

| Masterlist | ask/request box | Words: 1090 |

i had to stop myself from just continuing some of these 😭😭😭

Also using tumblr on mobile 😭😭😭

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Scout:

You grab his arm and pull him back to cover as a bullet remains where his head was.

“Jesus christ scout at least be careful”

“i - “

He’s speechless, your hand still gripped around his wrist. You look angry with him, but the feeling of your touch on his wrist makes him red, you drop his hand.

“You aight there?”

“Yes! yeah i- i could’ve totally avoided that without ya y’know aha”

He would quickly spit out, messing up words as you raise an eyebrow as he stumbles and runs around the corner. Heart beating fast and his face red.

Soldier:

Im sorry but soldier does NOT get flustered, but you make his heart beat widely when you talk with his racoons in a baby voice,

“Awww aint ya cuties, whats your names huh”

“Sergeant Smith, the one with the medal is lieutenant bites

“what cuties they all are”

He says with speed as you nuzzle the raccoon and baby talk it while laughing, he’s staring for a while before you look up to him.

“You okay solly?”

“Affirmative!”

His heart is widely beating as you treat his pets like your own, giving them food while you think he isn’t looking and always happy to see them when he takes them into base. (even if medic hates them)

Pyro:

They laugh and clap as you flick open a lighter to show them the hello kitty lighter you had bought.

“See! its a pink flame, isn’t that cool!?”

“mpHmH!”

“Anyway this is for you anyway, gotta go see medic; dont burn the place down!”

You toss them the lighter, and wave.

Pyro sits there, holding the lighter in their hands as their face is a bright red under their mask. Laughing as their body buzzed and felt her hands move to flicker the lighter

Happy knowing it came from you.

Demoman:

“Yeah, an she carried your drunk ass to bed; what a sight HA”

Scout teased, demoman’s face flushed red as you walk in. Waving.

“Hey you three, what's up?”

“Tellin ol’ demo here how he ended up back in his bed”

“Yeah! an look at the drunkard”

His face was a dark red, a. hot feeling radiating as he grummbled and burried his head in his arms.

“Hm? oh yeah did you drink the water i left you?”

“y-yah”

He mutters, you raise an eyebrow but the other two men laugh to themselves as demo grumbles into his arms.

Heavy:

A bowl of hot soup laid before heavy, you standing with a white apron tied around you with a smile.

“What are you waiting for? taste it”

He takes the spoon, blows on the soup and takes a sip. His eyes widen as he feels the taste of his mothers soup on his tongue.

“Does it taste right? not sure if i got it all correct, russian is hard for me to read”

You smile, he coughs softy. Nodding, face a soft pink as you stand like a sun in the kitchen.

“Da, its like how my mother used to cook”

He stumbles over a few words, yet you look at him with a tiled head and a bowl of your own.

Engineer:

Engi had been tinkering on his sentry all night, large bags under his eyes as you place down a place of cut red apples with a bottle of juice.

“Engi, eat something”

“I- oh thanks darlin”

He would say with a smile, face red as he ate. You standing there with crossed arms.

“Take a break soon, we need you tomorrow”

Your small act of affection causes him to stutter and laugh softly, scratching the back of his neck slowly sipping the juice you gave him. Looking over his blueprints, just waiting there for him to finish and take a break.

Medic:

It was a hectic battle so far, medic was tired healing the scout and not noticing the enemy demoman behind him he dropped his gun and readied for the impact of sword against his neck, when it didn’t come and the sound of a body dropping make him look up.

You turn back to him with blood dripping from your face and body.

“You okay doc? He didn’t hurt ya did he?”

“i- nien- nien he didnt”

He’s red, standing there staring at you as you look feral with the demoman’s blood soaking into your clothes and skin,

“Doc? ya there?”

He stumbles over his words as he holds his medigun close, waving to you as he speeds away to go heal heavy who was yelling for him. Almost tripping over his feet as he couldn't remove the image of you from his mind.

Sniper:

Sniper grunts, holding the wound on his arm. The blood bleeding through his fingers as you come around the corner, head perking as you walk back.

“Snipes?? what happened jesus,”

“nothin nothin”

He bites back a groan of pain as he went to grab the med back, you kneel before him.

“Snipes move your hand, jesus what even happened”

“its foin, its nothIN-“

He takes a sharp breath in, and with a delicate touch you move it, which feels like electricity through his body you take the hand holding the wound and place it down.

His face was growing a thick red, heat radiating from his cheeks as he looks away from you, treating his wound like glass even if both of you were war criminals.

Making quick work of the bullet wound, you wipe your hands on your pants and look at his red face.

“Aight, should be good. I’ll get medic to heal ya if we come through”

“tha, thanks mate”

“Try not to get hit again”

Spy:

It takes a lot to fluster the spy, but with you?

You grabbed the spy's arm, pulling him down as a soldier walked past you two. The two of you cramped against each other behind the crate, him in for lap with his two lanky legs just strewn around you two.

His face is red under his mask, breath quicking as he faces away from you.

You look up, and then push him up.

“Be careful, next time i ain't saving you”

“oui, merci,”

His words slip into french as his feet stumble and you catch him before falling.

“What, are you sick? Is that why your head is out of the game?”

“no, non, its nothing ami, merci for hiding me”

He cloaks and quickly leaves as his face was red and his head was clouded with you. As you stood there, a confused look on your face as you kill the other spy.

╚═════════════════╝

248 notes · View notes

owlwithanapple · 16 days

Text

Bird & Fox

Chapter 2

When the alarm clock rang, you opened your eyes looked at the ceiling. The paint color of the ceiling was your favorite blue. You sat on the bed, raised your hands, stretched out, and yawned.

In the past, you didn't have a chance to get up on time in the "organization", always wake up by the sudden attack. The sudden tranquility made you very uncomfort, felt as if something was missing.

You get out of bed, go into the bathroom, pick up the toothbrush and squeeze the toothpaste to start brushing your teeth, squeeze some facial cleanser and rub it in the palm of your hand, apply it evenly to your face, wash the facial cleanser on your face with water, and wipe your face with a face towel.

You take off your pajamas and underwear, adjust the water temperature to warm water, which can release the fatigue on your body, turn on the shower head and let the warm water wash your body, squeeze some shower gel on your body and then wash it.

Take a towel to wipe every part of the body, dry the wet hair with a hair dryer, leave the bathroom and return to the room. The most distressing question every day is what to eat, what to wear and what to do.

Open the drawer in the wardrobe, which is full of all kinds of underwear. Choose a set to put it on, choose a simple vest and denim trousers to match, which can highlight the curve of your figure, and then tie your hair up. Today's matching is complete.

You posed to the mirror in front of you and appreciated your figure, but you were heard "Woff!" from the living room. Somebody interrupt you, your pet corgi, named Kirin, which barks outside the door.

As soon as he see you open the door open , he quickly run into your room. You see him jumping like a child in your bed. You lie on his fluffy stomach and absorb energy to heal you.

You pinched his fat cheeks. "Little bad boy, I'm going for a walk today. Don't make trouble. Do you understand?"

"Woff~" He ignore you and lie lazily on the bed. You open the curtains let the sun outside shine in. His cute appearance is really super charming and healing.

"If there is a bed, there is no master, you traitor corgi." You smiled at Kirin and touched his head, you took out your bag and mobile phone from the drawer and left the room. You went to the hallway and put on a pair of boots and left home.

The first time walked on the street, opposite of last night. In the morning, it was full of hardworking workers, and at night, a bunch of criminals were messing up the city. The buildings saw last night seemed like a horror city. But, the buildings in the morning were clearer.

Yesterday you only had a bowl of instant noodles, so today you must have a good meal, but facing a strange city and crowds, you are really a little scared, but you have to overcome these obstacles. Since you are here, you can't rely on others.

Told yourself that you must learn to be strong. You are a very experienced ninja. How could you give in because of fear? So you took the first step. Inadvertently, a motorcycle came from the right. Thanks to him braking in time, he didn't hit you.

You were so obsessed with self-thinking that you completely forgot that you were wandering at the intersection. You subconsciously stepped back two steps from the motorcycle. If the rider hadn't stopped in time, your death record in Gotham City would be crossing the road without looking.

When the news of your death reaches the "organization", they definitely make fun of you. You will die with eyes wide open and cannot be buried in country. Calm down first, don't mess up your thoughts, and apologize to him first.

You saw him get off and push the motorcycle aside park it. You went forward to apologize. As soon as you got close, noticed that he was tall. Before you could say anything, he had taken off his helmet. His face looked very handsome, cool and stylish motorcycle, a part of his bangs is white, smooth black jumpsuit, matched with a cool leather jacket, and a pair of combat boots, the overall look is cool and atmospheric.

You noticed that his handsome face was the type of man that was pleasing to the eye, and he also had a sexy temperament. I saw Batman last night and thought he was quite mysterious and sexy, especially his lips. Are the males in Gotham City all that good looking?

"Lovey, are you okay?" You were interrupted by him when you were thinking. You panicked and hesitated about how to answer. As a ninja, you are a very confident person. But now you just an ordinary person, so you have to give a relative conclusion.

Unlike before you could easily knock people out, hide in the shadows, or scare people. Since you are an ordinary person, you should play an ordinary role. You smiled slightly to show that you are kind, and then an idea came to you, "I'm fine, sorry, I didn't look at the road when I walked."

Jason POV

I have been busy on patrolling and fighting criminals for several consecutive nights, and I don’t even have enough time to sleep. I woke up early today with a lot of resentment. I ate fast food for three meals, and I made a mistake to schedule the maintenance of the motorcycle in the early morning. I didn’t even have a little free time.

There is no point in complaining more. Work is work. The motorcycle can help me at work, and can’t ignore it. Criminals won’t wait, and I can’t take it lightly.

"Hwah~, so fucking sleepy." I yawned, changed into clean clothes, went to the garage to start the motorcycle, picked up the helmet and put it on, rode the motorcycle and left home.

Morning of Gotham City, people come and go, busy office workers, and the bustling commercial streets. People never stop but flow away one after another. I stopped at the intersection waited the traffic light to turn on.

Accidents always happen. When the traffic light turns on, I continue to drive. I see a woman suddenly walk out of the road. I brake immediately. The thrill of a moment makes me completely sober.

I parked my motorcycle aside, making sure was fine, I spoke to the woman. She said "I'm fine." From the looks of her, apart from some old injuries on her arms, there were no signs of me hitting her, she didn't ask me for compensation. I was so lucky.

But look closely, although she is wearing simple clothes, she is particularly eye-catching, with a pretty face, a slim upper body, jeans that make her legs look long, and long brown hair. She is simply beautiful.

Perhaps can be said the bad luck of several consecutive days has finally brought a good thing. I wanted to ask her out, but accidentally trespassing on the road cannot be a reason for conversation. It is really distressing. I have done everything I should care about.

What should I do?

Y/N POV

You were lucky not to be hit, but why did he keep staring at you? Did he want compensation? That would be reasonable. There will always be such people in life. They suffer even though nothing happened. Gotham City is not short of such people.

It's just like what happened during the training. It was obviously not you broke the sword, but framed by others and punished. You knelt on the stone cut bamboo with a sword every night. The person who framed you, will definitely beat him up next time you see him.

With no choice, you reached into pocket took out your wallet, wanting to give him some cash as compensation, but plans can't keep up with changes. When you opened it, there was no cash in it, only your ID, driver's license and two bank cards.

You forgot go to the ATM to collect the cash you need for daily use. You took out your phone and checked your bank account. You found that you had not yet processed the online transfer procedure. You could not use force,"Ummm,I'm sorry, I don't have any cash on me."

When he heard what you said, he immediately shook his head to indicate no. You were confused. He noticed your expression showed confusion, and hurriedly explained, " No, Lovey ,I don't mean anything else. I just want to make sure you are unharmed."

You were stunned but relieved, thankful the situation didn't develop to serious level and didn't need to be resolved by force. You hesitated for a moment and pointed to the other side, "Then I'll leave first, bye."

When you said you were leaving, he had no reason to keep you, he had to let you go. "Yeah, bye sweetie." You heard his reply and walked across the street to the other side, while he got on his motorcycle dejected and frustrated.

Jason POV

"Fuck me! Why am I such an idiot and so timid! Ask her out for breakfast! Hey, Lovey , do you want to have breakfast together..., it's so simple! Why are you so stiff!

I complained as soon as I got on the motorcycle, regretting not getting her contact number. I hadn't even started chatting her up yet, and I, Red Hood, backed off when I met a girl.

But what's the matter with the scar on her arm...

Y/N POV

You left the intersection , on the way, you smelled a faint smell of coffee. You followed the smell to a cafe. It was the smell coming from the cafe.

The smell increased your hunger, you stepped into the cafe. There were many people in a hurry, perhaps office workers. You noticed the cafe was a counter ordering place, called the number and went to pick up the food.

You hurriedly followed the line waited for your turn to order. After a few minutes, finally it was your turn. You went to the counter read the menu. The menu was accompanied by pictures for reference. You wanted to try every food, but didn't order more just to avoid wasting food.

You ordered your favorite cup of cappuccino and a simple delicious English breakfast. The waiter gave you a number card, noting you were dining indoors. You found a seat by the window and put the number card down to reserve a seat.

While waiting, you listened to the lyrical songs playing in the cafe. During that free time, you took out your phone to check the news. Sure enough, there was content about Batman arresting criminals.

"The hell?" Something caught your attention. Last night, someone filmed a video of you doing parkour on the street wearing equipment and posted it on social media. But! What is "Gotham runner"? ! The title is so shit!

Let's pause the story content and make a simple self-introduction here. My name is Y/N, code name Kitsune, I just turned 20 years old, I grew up in the organization "SHINOBI" founded in Japan.

It is an organization that trains people to have super high-level combat capabilities. "SHINOBI" is divided into two groups, SHIRO and KURO. Even are divided into two groups, everyone's work style is completely different, but the purpose is the same, which is to contribute safety of public security for the country and produce social poisons.

No matter which group, there are levels, such as S, A, B, C, D, which are called "Cyber Ninja". I am a ninja in A, which belongs to the middle and high-level group. I go on missions and take a break from my busy schedule.

For some reason, I was kicked out by "SHINOBI" and exiled here. Forget it, as long as they can continue to provide equipment and money, it won't be disadvantageous to me. For the time being, I will just watch and find something I want to do.

The above is my introduction, and the details will continue from the story.

When you hear the waiter calling your number, you take the receipt to the front desk to collect the food, and go back to your seat to eat.

Knock…knock…

"Huh?" You looked out the window. It was the motorcycle guy just now! Are you kidding? Why did him chase you here? Is he following you? You let your guard down didn't even notice that you were being followed.

He knocked on the window again. He stood outside the window and talked. His lips moved as he said, "Wait for me." Then he ran into cafe and stood in front of you. His forehead was a little sweaty. He put his hands on the table and winked at you, "Hi, Lovey."

What exactly does he want to do? You can't feel any murderous intent at all. You don't understand what his intention is. Does he know your true identity? Since he is in front of you, you can't back down.

"Can I sit down?" He asked politely. You were embarrassed to refuse him, so you nodded. He moved the chair back and sat down. You took a sip of cappuccino to your mouth. You took a peek and saw that his appearance was durable.

You put down the cup and looked at him, facing him with a very optimistic attitude. "What a coincidence, you are also nearby?"

He heard your question, and this time he decided to go for it. "Hahaha, yes, my motorcycle is being maintained nearby."

You nodded slightly "So...?"

He swallowed and held out his hand "Do you mind making friends? My name is Jason. What about you?"

You were confused. What is this? A scam? You held his hand "No, hello, my name is Y/N."

After letting go of his hand, you just looked at the plate of food on the table in silence. You didn't know how to send him away, but you felt bad to send him away like this, you took the initiative to start a conversation "I just moved to Gotham City recently, and I'm not familiar with this place. It's good to make some friends."

He frowned when he heard it, and you realized that his expression was different, but soon he returned to a smile, this time he looked more confident and charming "Wow, then I have the honor to be your first friend?"

He spoke with a sweet tone accent, you have met many men, but this is the first time you have met a man with such a personality. You are unconsciously interested in him. "Haha, of course."

At the moment you laughed, Jason felt an inexplicable warmth in his heart, an unprecedented feeling. Even though he had been with many girls before, your actions were attracting him step by step. He blurted out what he wanted to say most in his heart, "Y/N...Your smile is very beautiful."

The sudden compliment made you a little overwhelmed. You didn't hate it. There was a warmth lingering in your heart. He gave you a feeling that was a little difficult to grasp, but he was not a bad person.

In a strange city, you are alone without any friends. Maybe it is a good thing to make a friend. Since you have started a new life, you should move in a new direction and not stop at the same place.

The wonderful thing is you two can chat with each other. Through Jason, you know every bit of the city. He even recommends restaurants and supermarkets near the apartment to you, which are exactly what you need to know.

When you came to Gotham City, you didn’t know much about the daily life of this city. You didn’t even know where the supermarket was. Thanks to him, you finally know it. You can go to the supermarket to buy some things in your free time later, and then go home to cook.

When Jason learned that you immigrated here from Japan, he was very surprised, and you live alone. He heard you also have a corgi. Jason likes dogs very much.

Jason POV

Actually, someone just contacted me said the motorcycle has been fixed can be picked up, but I replied it would be later, because I want to continue spend my time with her. It will be too late if I don’t seize this rare opportunity now.

I didn’t expect to have such a good chat with her. I didn’t notice how much time had passed. At first, I was really afraid I would scare her away, but she was so easy to talk to. I was glad I didn’t miss the opportunity when I met her.

Suddenly a phone rang was interrupted us. I clicked on the phone and it showed "Dickhead". I hung up the phone and continued to chat with her.

The word "Dickhead" show again, the second call. I hung up the phone impatiently. The quiet time was interrupted by the third call again. It was that "Dickhead" again.

After a while, I received several text messages…

Dickhead: Good morning, Babybird😆

I muted my phone put it on the table. A few minutes later, it suddenly vibrated. I picked up the phone and saw that it was “Boy Wonder”. Even Tim called, but I hung up.

Y/N POV

His phone kept ringing, maybe it was something urgent. You two had been chatting for a long time, and it felt like it was time to find something else to do, so you said, "Jason, if you're busy, let's talk next time."

Indeed, you talked for a long time, and the phone kept interrupting the conversation, so he turned off his phone in anger, but you didn't know when would talk again. You got up walked to the counter to ask the waiter for a piece of paper and a pen, and then put them on the table.

"What's wrong?" He was confused and looked at you blankly.

You thought and wanted to know if he would have a chance to see you again, so you took a bold try. You opened the pen cap and wrote your private phone number on the paper.

After writing, you folded the paper and put it in the front pocket of his jacket, and said "Let's keep in touch." Jason was dumbfounded and quickly took out the paper. It was your phone number. He excitedly said, "Wait for my call!" and then left the cafe.

Jason POV

I ran to pick up the motorcycle that had been maintained. When paid the bill, I confirmed the paper was still in pocket. It had your phone number. I can’t lose it, otherwise the chance to see her again would not be so easy.

I happened to want to buy breakfast today, and then I saw her sitting by the window. Without thinking, I went to the window to attract her attention. Although she looked at me with a smile on her face, I knew she were confused when I suddenly appeared out of thin air.

I leaned against the motorcycle and took out my phone to turn it on. I found a bunch of missed calls and messages from "Dickhead". I was hesitant because very difficult talk to this guy. I had no choice but to call "Dickhead" again.

"Hey, idiot Dickhead, what do you want to talk to me for?"

"Hey, Babybird! You finally answered my call! ~"

"Fuck you..." I was about to hang up the phone.

"Pleaseeeeee~"

"Did you call me back for breakfast?"

"Right! So smart!" Dick said happily, and I was annoyed...

"Go to hell, Dickhead!" I yelled at him.

"WHAT!"

"Damn, you really know how to mess things up at the right time. Don't let Tim sit in my seat." I hung up the phone.

I saved Y/N's phone number and clicked into the chat room see your profile picture was a corgi face. This was the corgi you mentioned. The description said "Hello" in Japanese. What a simple style.

Looking at your chat room, I hesitated about how to start the topic, but I still put away my phone, put on my helmet, and rode my motorcycle back to the manor first. Bruce asked Tim to investigate something, maybe I could help.

Y/N POV

You are sitting alone in a cafe, looking at your phone, but you haven't received any message from Jason, which means he is really busy. You are a little lonely. Don't think about it now. Going to the supermarket to replenish food is the most important thing.

You walk on the street and feel that this city brings a strange charm. It is a scenery you have never seen before. This can be said to be your new beginning and new life.

Occasionally, miss your previous life.Practiced as soon as you woke up. Even the rest time was only ten minutes. Three meals were carefully selected and prepared. There was no day to go out and stroll around, just stayed indoors.

Now can walk on the street with a swagger, eat and drink casually, and see the sun. Even the shadow can be seen. It is no longer a dim room. You are now on the road of light.

Now there is a foul smell of alcohol coming from behind. It is conceivable that this smell has been smelled since you left the cafe and walked a distance. You walked into the alley decided to lure the wolf into the house. You stood there motionless waiting for him to take the bait. The prey always appears as the prey.

"Hey, beauty~ Come have a drink with uncle~ I'll treat you~" Sure enough, the good times didn't last long. A strange uncle with a strong smell of alcohol stood behind you and followed you all the way to the alley, even putting his hand on your butt without any hesitation.

Originally, I just wanted to shake him off and run away, but facing such a person who is mentally confused and addicted to alcohol, the more you resist him, the more excited he will be, indicating that the problem cannot be solved in an ordinary way.

You turned around to face him and observed that he was holding a bottle of wine in his hand. If you use force to solve it, he might hit your head with the bottle. At that time, you hand it over to the police, they will be treated as mentally confused and the matter will be hastily dealt with.

You looked around to make sure that there was no one around and no surveillance. You put your hands behind so that he couldn't see your hand, you clenched your fist and hit him on the chin at lightning speed to make him lose his balance. Then he fell to the ground and fell into a short coma.

You made sure he fallen to the ground then dragged him to the side of the trash can. You leaned over and whispered in his ear, "If you touch me again, I will break both of your hands."

"Ah..." You thought of the point. It was too late for you to say that he fainted, but this kind of person deserves a lesson. If he makes the same mistake again, you can only pray that he will not meet you again, otherwise it will definitely not be as simple as fainting.

The matter is resolved, you leave the alley and walk among the crowd as a passerby. This is a habit. Ninjas always act secretly and remain vigilant and cautious no matter where they are.

Ding~

Your phone receives a message. You click into the chat room to find out. It is a report from "Gotham runner" and there is a message send by your companion "So lame, bad name." You reply "Shut up!"

Put the troubles behind continue to carry out the main task, which is go to the supermarket to buy things and fill the empty kitchen with food. No matter whether you are a ninja or an ordinary person, it is never allowed to have no snacks at home!

Chapter 2 End.

Do you hope there will be Chapter 3?

Leave a message to let me know 😁

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sakshikaribykriti · 2 months

Text

Easy and ready to go, our mobile bags make for great gifts to every one old and young. These are spacious enough for a phone, cash, keys and a little something. The light weight slide sling makes it easy on the shoulders while you take a walk. The straps are broad to give enough support.

#Women's mobile sling bag #Mobile cross body bag #Walking bag #block print lining #handcrafted

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madhattervanessa · 11 months

Text

Bookworm

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (preOutbreak)

Summary: This is just a short blurb because I just- Joel Miller is a plague to my brain and I saw someone on my dash posting about one of the pedro boys building you a bookshelf and then fucking you against it and while I have lost the post I sure as fuck haven’t lost the thought.

Warnings: Surprise gifts, plotting boyfriend, oral (m receiving), a little bit of hair pulling, nipple play, fingering and praise

Words: 1870

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

You sigh as you peek out of your office towards the living room, the faint huffs of your boyfriend and his heavy steps once again piquing your interest.

“Joel? Are you alright?”

“I’m alright, baby, just-” he groans and your eyebrows jump up as you try to take a peek around the corner. “-I just went grocery shopping. Got you a new bag of plant soil.”

You furrow your brows.

“Didn’t you do that Tuesday?”

Another tumble. You set your headphones down on the table and slowly get up.

“I just forgot a few things, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

You hear a door slam shut and a muttered curse. When you finally turn the corner, Joel immediately fixes you with a smile, a package of toilet paper underneath his arm while holding a bag of oranges in his other.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes traveling along his body. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Suspicious.

“Are you taking your lunch break soon?”

The question makes you jump out of your racing thoughts.

“Yeah. I need some more coffee and get out of my office. Do you want some, too? We could drive over together."

"No, no I'm fine. I just want to make sure you see some sunlight when you work from home", he retorts before dropping the items on the kitchen counter.

You let him wrap you in his arms. His adoring look makes you forget about all of your thoughts and you lean up to peck his lips.

"Maybe you should get a little walk in, too, listen to an episode of your podcast, hm?", he suggests before kissing your forehead and you melt into him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me, Mister."

You give him another kiss and detangle from him.

"But it's a good idea. I'll be back in 30 I think- are you sure you don't want anything from the coffee shop?"

"I'm sure, baby. Be careful."

"Uhuh."

When you return home, it's eerily quiet: you had grown so used to Joel working away in the garage or at parts of your home that the quiet suddenly unsettled you.

As you set your keys, your bag and jacket down in the hallway dresser, a quiet hum catches your attention. Movement from the living makes you inch closer, your fingers itching as you set foot in thr kitchen.

"Baby?"

"Just a second!"

You frown and you're about to ask what's wrong when Joel emerges, quickly enveloping you in his arms and walking you back towards the hallway.

"Hey. You're back early."

You squint at him even as he kisses your temple, your mind already busy overthinking his every move.

"Joel Miller. What's going on? You've been acting weird all week. Is there something I need to know?"

He huffs out a laugh before meeting your eyes.

"Yeah - well, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

He hums and lifts your hands in his.

"Close your eyes for me."

You sigh but cover your eyes with your hands nonetheless. He carefully guides you forward and you feel his lips ghost over the nape of your neck for a moment.

You can smell the faint scent of your favorite candle burning. It brings a smile to your face instantly and you wriggle in his arms as he pushes you further into what you presume to be your living room.

“Is this why you have been hanging around in my garage so much?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes”, he murmurs and slowly lifts his hands from your face. Your breath hitches when his hands come to rest on your waist.

“Open your eyes.”

When you do, it takes a few more blinks before the scene in front of you settles into clarity: He has rearranged the living room a bit and you frown at the amount of candles in the summery weather but then you look towards the window nook that had been bothering you with its emptiness that is now filled neatly with a beautiful shelving, the wooden boards gleaming with polish.

Underneath is a little bench, neatly tucked between shelving and you feel like you’re about to cry when you spot your favorite color over the upholstery.

“Oh my god.”

He nudges you forward a bit but you’re frozen in your spot.

“Do you like it?”

You muffle a gasp, a few tears following right after as you let your eyes travel over the beautiful shelf again.

Joel’s hand gently rubs over your waist. The kiss he presses to your neck snaps you out of your reverie.

“Joel- I-” you take a hesitant step towards the shelf and Joel pushes you further until you can let one of your hands touch. You reverently follow the seams of the wood with your fingers.

“You can pull this bench out, thought it would be nice to read here when the sun falls through the window”, Joel explains and you smile as you watch him demonstrate. He sits down in front of you and meets your gaze. Aside from the squint of his eyes he seems undeterred by your watery eyes.

“I think this is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me”, you whisper. You cradle his face and gently kiss forehead before you lean in to reach his lips.

Your fingers already feel the warmth of the sun on the back of his curly head. He pulls you further into the kiss. The firm grip on your waist makes you laugh before his teeth dig into your bottom lip, turning it into a gasp.

“You like it?”

“I’m gonna suck your dick until your eyes roll back, Miller”, you murmur, your lips already wet as you let your tongue roll over the bottom.

He grins and you squeal as he tugs you forward into his lap, smothering your laughter with another deep kiss. His beard rubs against your heated cheeks as he leans forward towards your ear. You whimper when he drags his teeth over your neck, his lips quick to follow. When you cant your hips against his in response just to hear him groan into your ear.

“Fuck, baby- don’t you have- you have work to do”, he grunts but you keep grinding up against him, mercilessly, as he lets his head fall back onto one of the shelves.

His mouth falls open and you bite your lip at the sight. You can’t resist and lean down to nibble on his jaw and neck. He groans, murmuring your name but he doesn’t stop you. On the contrary, his hands only spur you on to keep grinding harder.

You drag your tongue over one of the tendons of his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. It earns you a harsh grab, his fingers digging into you hard.

Before he can stop you, you slide down to the floor, your hands swiftly undoing his belt. Joel lifts his head slowly, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. You don’t give him the opportunity to shuck his pants off before you put your mouth on him over the fabric of his underwear.

“Fuck-” his hand twitches just out of the field of your view and you hum, gently mouthing over the head of his twitching cock. When you risk a look upwards, he meets it head on. “-fuck, you’re so hot, darlin’.”

You stretch the band of his underwear and smooth more spit over him. You close your eyes to focus, and immediately his hand finds the nape of your neck. When you finally guide him into your mouth, you hear him gasp again and answer with your own moan.

You almost choke when he thrusts up. A warning look and a thumb rubbing over your jaw later, you swallow around him and he curses above you. You continue like that for a while before letting him pop out of your mouth and attaching your lips to the underside of him. He curses and you hear his head fall back against the wood when you slide your lips upward, keeping the pressure.

“Darlin’- fuck, you need to- need to stop-”, he groans. When you don’t listen, he pulls you off of him by your hair until you can meet his fiery gaze. Your lips feel hot and slick, your breath only enhancing the sensation.

“Let me finish-”

“Want you to come up here”, he grumbles and you huff at him before obliging- your knees are tired and wobbly and he has to heave you up halfway.

He tears at your dress and you think you hear the zipper break as he roughly pulls at it. You manage to get the fabric off of you, discarding it blindly. The band of your bra stands no chance against Joel’s hands and follows.

He presses his cheek against your breasts, his hot breath fanning over your nipples as you struggle to pull your panties aside. The only help you receive is the impatient jut of his hips against you, coating his hard cock in your slick.

“C’mon, baby,” he envelops one of your nipples with his lips, forcefully licking over the pebbled bud as you struggle to get him inside of you.

When the tip of his cock finally catches on your pussy and you sink down, the relief burns through you, and Joel’s hand grips your ass with bruising force.

“Good girl- fuck, you feel so good around me, baby”, he mutters, his beard rubbing against your nipple as he pants.

You cant your hips against his, aided by his hands. You hold on to his shoulders before cupping his cheeks. Your eyes barely open to catch a view of your garden and you feel Joel groan, his teeth dragging over your collarbone.

“You’re so good to me, Joel”, you murmur and press your lips against his temple. He grunts and you feel the sweat between you, your knees are screeching with the effort but you keep going.

“You need help, baby?”

He pushes his thumb against your clit and you moan weakly, your knees already shaking as your orgasm suddenly takes hold.

“Oh god, Joel-”

“Come on baby, let me feel it, need to feel your pretty pussy cum for me”, he grunts and you feel him move underneath you, thrusting into you hard until you start whimpering into the crook of his neck.

Your legs shake as you cum, the unforgiving pressure too much to keep yourself upright as you feel Joel twitch inside of you, filling you up with labored breaths that cool the sweaty nape of your neck.

You both catch your breath, content to sit in the sun and melt into each other. Joel is the first to recover, his hand gently trailing over the back of your neck and down over your spine. You sigh, smiling as you let your lips trail over his shoulder.

“So”, he starts before pressing a kiss to your temple. “how many shelves do you want, baby?”

You laugh and he smiles at you, watching in awe as you giggle in his lap, the sun illuminating your flushed face.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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jadewritesficshere · 4 months

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Walker

Eddie Munson x Reader

So my joints have been hurting more and more recently, and I've noticed a decline in what I can do without taking breaks. It isn't to the point I need a mobility aid yet, but that struggle with my own mortality and insecurity came up and I wrote this little blurb as a way to work through some of that...yea....

Warnings: Reader needs a walker, hurt/comfort, discussion of insecurity

You don't want to look at it. The metallic frame seems to taunt you. If you turn away, the sunlight glints off the bolts holding it together, casting a burst of light into the corner of your vision.

You glare at the inanimate object. A walker. Something you always pictured using when you were old and greying. Not when you were young and in the "prime of your life" as people called it.

You can hear the fall of footsteps and rustling of plastic bags coming from the hallway. You peer through the crack of the door and the frame and spot Eddie, multiple bags in his arms. Eddie uses his hip to open the door, grin widening into a wild smile at you. You can feel your heart pick up speed as you return a small grin.

"Hey," you murmur, sitting up slowly in your bed. Eddie dumps the bags onto your bed with a thud before he presses a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut and you can feel the warm exhale of Eddie's breath against your face for a split second before he kisses your forehead again. You feel the press of his lips trail down your nose, pausing at the tip of your nose before he jokingly nips at it with his teeth. Your eyes snap open as you jerk back, but Eddie follows you, pressing his forehead to yours.

You stare into his soft, warm chocolate eyes. "Hi," Eddie mumbles before pressing his lips to yours. Eddie pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes," Got something for you." You tilt your head slightly as Eddie grabs one of the bags. He dumps it out on your lap, doing the same with the rest of the bags.

An assortment of paints and paintbrushes scatter across your bed. A bottle of glitter, thankfully never been opened and still in packaging (a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of glitter all over your bed). There are stickers, glue, stamps, and basically anything you would need for a craft project.

"What's all this for?" You poke at the obviously newly bought glitter," New dnd mini?" "For you!" Eddie waves his hand over the supplies with a flourish. You blink at him, waiting for him to continue. Eddie bounces up and grabs the walker so easily you're almost envious," Thought we could make over this bad boy. Make it look fucking metal."

You take a deep breathe in," And why would we do that?" You can feel Eddie watching you as you cross your arms and look away. You can hear Eddie sigh before hearing his footsteps come closer to the bed. A hand gently lays on your shoulder, slowly going up and rubbing the back of your neck. "I know you hate the walker. Thought that if you made it more personal you'd feel better about it."

You snap your head over at Eddie," I don't want to feel better about it! I don't want to have to use it Eddie! I used to be active, okay maybe not like running a marathon, but I could hike for miles no issue. I wish I had been more active, cause i can't now! Hell, I'm grateful if my joints aren't stiff getting out of bed in the morning. Some days I can get up and be okay, and others I can barely roll over in bed. My body is fucking rioting against me. Using that just proves how weak I am."

You can feel the tears start to form and you clench your jaw, willing them not to fall. You look down, annoyed at yourself but more at your own health. Eddie's fingers slowly massage your neck, tension slowly easing out of it. "Look at me," Eddie commands. Your eyes lock onto his. "When I was recovering, and I used a walker, was it weak?" "You got maimed and almost died dumbass of course not-" "So what makes you think you are for using one?"

A heavy silence fills the air. Eddie inhales before continuing, "I know the situation isn't the same, but follow me here. Was I weak or bad or less then for using a walker? No. Will Wayne become less then or weak for using a cane? Nope. What about Max, think she's weak in her wheelchair?" You shake your head slowly.

"Exactly. This walker? It doesn't make you weak or less then to have one and use it. It's a tool to help make life easier for you. Don't you think we deserve an easier life after the shit we've seen?" Eddie gently cups your face with his other hand," I hate seeing you think less then about yourself, and I know I can't take that all away, but if making over the walker helps I'll do it. Fuck, I'll buy my own and use it if you want. Be the coolest people around using walkers, except for Ms. Miriam."

You let out a chuckle and smile weakly at your boyfriend. "Miriam is pretty cool," you lean your face into his hand, relishing the comfort it brings. "Fuck yeah she is! And so are you. You're still the person I love, an aid isn't going to make me think less of you. Anyone who does think that doesn't deserve to be in your life anyways." Eddie nods before pulling back and flipping both middle fingers off, "They can suck it."

Eddie grows quiet for a second, absently fiddling with his rings," But, if you want me to drop this for now I can. If you want, I'll pack all of this back up and we can do something else. I know it doesn't fix all those thoughts in your head but...I dunno thought it would make things a little easier."

You look at Eddie and then at the supplies on your bed. You hum as you think, looking things over. Eddie sits in silence, a hard thing for him to do, waiting your decision. You inhale, "Want to paint it black?" Eddie's grin is infectious and you can't help smiling back.

It isn't perfect, life rarely is. It may not take away every thought you have, every insecurity or frustration that cuts deep. But it does soothe that ache. And as you and Eddie paint the walker, you can feel a little better.

#You are not less then for having an aid and you are not less then for having a disability #Just because things are turning out different then you thought doesn't make you less then someone else #As I said this is very personal to me right now...grieving the way I thought my life was going to be...and that's okay...it will be okay #Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson/reader #Eddie Munson/you #Jade is Talking

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fallstreakfeathers · 8 months

Text

WHERE LIGHT DWELLS

Warnings: au typical trauma, biting, Sekido bites you but not in the Fun Way, septic shock, vomiting. Not formatted for tumblr bc it takes forever on mobile We are now formatted for tumbl.hell, Reader is gn and not described.

Word Count: 8,085 8,385 (update as of 4/9/24)

If it's unreadable, try it on Ao3 : Where Light Dwells

( Taisho Secret: I don't like sekido.)

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Part 1

Your car purrs along the deserted backroad; a not-so-short-shortcut home to avoid the traffic on the main highway. The radio sings in the background, not that you’re really listening to it. You can’t even tell what’s playing over the wind that whips past your open window. Some old classics. Maybe country. It cuts in and out as cell service wanes, and you think that the atmosphere could fit a horror movie despite the daylight. It’s dilapidated enough, at least, and the wind pushes the trees in a way that makes the creaking branches look as if they might just snatch you up. The scenery that blurs past your window is more interesting than whatever song manages to glitch its way into your car. You drive over a pothole and the bumper jumps, jerking you in the seat. You wince. You don't remember that one being there last time, but with the size of the storm that wrecked the shingles on your neighbors roof a week ago, it was a miracle there were no downed logs. Yet.

A dark, unusual shape catches your eye as you navigate the pits and ruts of overgrown foliage and litter amongst a twig-strewn dirt road. At first you ignore it- after all, it’s probably just another bag of trash someone’s dumped in the woods. But, something about the shape of that shadow tugs you back, and you hesitantly slow your vehicle and put the gear in reverse.

Gravel and dead leaves crunch under the wheels as you stop, and the closing door startles you in the uneasy peace of the forest. Even the birds seem quiet today. Heavily aware that you are alone in the woods, on a backroad that is so rarely traveled anymore that it’s more grass than dirt, you creep towards the dark figure and peer over the side of the ditch. Your face pales. That’s… there’s a hand poking out from under a large bush. And ragged clothes that don't hide whatever it is from the suffocating heat. You’re trying not to freak out, praying it’s a mannequin, or even someone's… personal toy. Anything but a corpse. It stinks, a rotting, pungent sweetness that turns your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s whatever is in front of you or if it’s the miles of trash and dead plants around you. Several steel wires had been wrapped around a cedar tree behind the bush, and you swallow hard as you see the iron is stained red. You hope it’s rust. The wind dies down, and you swear you can hear labored breathing as you crouch in the ditch, trying to see under the bush without sticking yourself in reach. Your heart sinks further.

There’s an adult man hiding under the leaves, and you can tell from his pointed ears and the horns that curve out of his forehead that he's a demon. Someone's pet, from the looks of the rusty tag hanging from chains way too tight on his neck. Red, swollen bug bites pock his arms in a furious itchy red. You pull your own sleeves down. The bindings cut his flesh, leaving gaping wounds that cross around his body. They look inflamed, from what you can see. Something yellow oozes from a few of them, mixing with the blood soaking the ground under him.

There’s several deep punctures in his arms that are obviously from another demon’s teeth. Possibly even its horns. Then the wind changes and the smell hits you full force. You stumble back, stomach cramping as you try not to retch. The demon pulls his trembling hand back as the leaves move, trying to hide his sun-burned skin from the heat. Demons… the sun hurts them much faster than it does humans, you remember. At least, prolonged exposure does. From what you’ve heard. Not that you’ve ever dealt with demons. You’ve never even met one, except for the unfortunate, skulking thing your friend kept around. The girl wouldn’t even meet your eyes, shoulders hunched and tense like she was expecting to be hit for even breathing. Her ratty hair had hidden her face. You disapproved of the concept of a demon ‘pet’, but your friend insisted it was better than a dog or cat. Traditional pets couldn’t do household chores. Or wash your car. The demon under the bush stilled, his eyelids shut tight with an ugly grimace on his face. Sharp fangs poked at his bottom lip. He was curled in on himself as much as he could with the bindings. His long, dark hair was matted with twigs and grime, and he trembled. With what, you couldn’t tell. Pain? Cold? Maybe both. You peer around, trying to see if this is some kind of sick trap. A joke. But you’re as alone as you were when you stopped the car. As alone as you thought you were. You shift on your feet, a twig cracking under your weight. It seems to echo on the otherwise quiet road. In a split second, the demon lunges from the bushes with a vicious snarl, his hands outstretched before his body is snapped back by wires that held fast and branches that creaked in their reluctance to release him. You lose your balance on the gravel as you scramble backward, seconds too late. If it hadn’t been for the bindings that tied the demon to the tree, you’re sure he would’ve been upon you. For now, though, drool drips unbidden from his growling mouth, and the demon’s blood-red irises stare at your crouching form with a furious, biting hatred that had you shivering almost as much as he was. He did not want you here- that much was obvious when he attempts to lunge once more, spitting gore and drool on the ground with a howl. The chains and wires whined, creaked, snapped bark off the cedar tree as much as they dug bloody ruts into the man's skin. Then, to your surprise, he slinks back into the bushes and collapses with a pathetic groan. His eyes dart around, unfocused and… confused. Like he didn’t know where he was. You quickly finished giving him his space, breathing heavily. It was horrifying, seeing a sapient being act so beastly, but if someone could chain him to a tree then you couldn’t bear to think about what he must have been through. He’s delirious, you realize. And obviously aggressive. Scared, you tell yourself. Probably scared. Hopefully just scared. The sun is high and the demon shakily pushes himself against the tree to hide again. It’s quiet now, except for his ragged breaths. After several minutes pondering options, you hear the demon move again. He’s in the shade, straining against the creaking metal wire and rustling bush. They seem like they might snap from the struggle, but they cut his flesh more instead. He hisses, struggling like a flailing dog. You look away, unable to watch while the demon stumbles around. He can’t move more than a couple feet in any direction, and the more he moves the more entangled he becomes in the bushes. It’s quite obvious by now that he isn’t thinking clearly. You worry that the chains cutting into his throat will choke him to death, or he’ll die of blood loss. He hasn’t stopped growling, and any time you move he bares his teeth at you with a glare. You take your opportunity when he stops to rest a moment.

“Hey! Hey,” you gently call, raising your hands in a surrendering gesture. The demon swings his head towards you, eyes flashing. He loses his balance more than once as he waits for whatever you’re about to do. But, the growling stops as he stares, and he only releases an occasional grumble if you shift on your feet too much- a warning not to come close. You heed it. You feel like you’re trying to calm a bear. The demon’s wounds aren’t healing, you notice with a frown. Odd. You’ve heard that a demon has much better regenerative capabilities than humans do. They heal within hours. Sometimes minutes, depending on genetics. Unless something is wrong. You wonder if that something has to do with the petals smashed on the chains. A sweet purple color amidst the rusted reds and dying leaves.

He collapses once more, wheezing, and you make your decision. You can’t leave this man to die here, but it’s very obvious that nothing would be accomplished if you couldn’t earn even a little of his trust. You stand yourself up, ignoring his grouching, and quickly return to your car with a final look around the area. “I’ll be back, okay?” You promise. He doesn’t believe you, pretends not to hear- has no reason to. You’re human. Like the bastards that took his brothers. That tied him to this horrid tree. You’ll drive off and you’ll never return. Probably won’t even drive down this road again. You’ll drive off… and he’ll suffer slowly until death finally frees him. Sekido winces quietly as the driver's door closes and the engine roars to life. He’s too spent to move any further than to fall into the bush again, but he doesn’t think himself pathetic enough to try to crawl after you as you drive away anyhow. He’d tear his own throat out before he let himself be that weak, even in his delirium.

You swallow the lump in your throat, increasing your speed to turn a corner. You knew nothing about demons. Didn’t know how much time you would have to save this man’s life. The forest whipped past. Then, you lost sight of him. I am going to die here, Sekido thought. He was going to die at the side of an abandoned road in agony and despair, and nobody would ever care for him or care that he was scared. He covered himself with the bush to the best of his abilities, trying to fight off the chills without letting the cursed sun burn him anymore than it already had. And then, he closed his eyes with a groan. He hoped this would be the last night. Hoped he wouldn’t wake again. Hoped his brothers were someplace better than the hellhole he’d been thrust into.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Time crept along slowly, minutes felt like hours, but eventually Sekido had fallen into a fitful sleep. His respite was cut short forty-five minutes later by the car door that jarred him from rest. He held himself still. Just wants to die in peace. Is so dizzy he could’ve sworn the trees were dancing above him. Footsteps crack on dry gravel, hesitating a moment before retreating to the vehicle.

You approach him slowly, trying not to scare the demon any more than you knew he already was. Or make him angrier. The emotions are so often intertwined, you muse to yourself. In your nervous hands is a package of raw meat and a wide-lipped water bottle, and for a minute you consider the intelligence behind what you were about to attempt. Demons don’t eat human food (according to the website you hastily searched up in near panic), but they can eat uncooked meats. Could even go long periods of time without eating at all, though it wasn’t necessarily healthy. Food was to be ‘used as a reward’, the website had said. Taken away as a punishment. They needed water as much as any other living thing, the article had admitted in its explanation of the twisted expectations of demonic obedience and training. Your nose scrunched in disgust at the casual cruelty. You hoped the demon would at least take the water.

“Hey,” you softly say, crouching on the ground out of the demon's reach. He stares at you as you approach, snarling lowly. His sight locked firmly on you, even as the wind blew strands of matted hair into his face. But, he didn’t lunge, and that was a good sign. Hopefully. You took the opportunity to scan the parts of him you could see. His injuries looked even worse than when you’d found him, and with eyes that seemed to sink into their sockets, he was obviously dehydrated. You wonder how long he’d been strapped to this tree. Part of you thought it best if you don’t know.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’ve got water.” You shake the clear bottle and take another tentative step forward. “I just want to help…” It was strange, speaking to a human-shaped being like he was an animal. But you didn’t know how else to talk to him. Weren’t sure if it would make him worse to be spoken to as an equal.

His eyes are full of doubt. Glazed. Humans don’t help. Humans take, are selfish. Lie and destroy. Beat you senseless for surviving. You can tell how sick this poor, trembling man is- even through the growling and drool. Sweat drips off his face and his skin is so ashy anyone could mistake him for a corpse. Except that he is still yowling his displeasure like an untamed cat. He watches the water longingly. Desperately. “Please let me help you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice quiet. You unscrew the bottle and hold the water out, approaching the demon sideways and angling your body away so you wouldn’t be crawling directly towards him. You hoped that you would seem like less of a threat that way. That’s how the internet had said to approach a stray dog, at least. Your arm is just out of his reach as you await his reaction. You shuffle another step forward. He snarls again, spitting and stumbling to his knees. Droplets of blood wet the crumbling leaves. His unfocused gaze finds the water again, but he doesn’t seem to believe this isn’t some cruel trick, even as he sniffs the air at you. Your eyes mist at his stench. You aren’t sure if the demon is even aware of the way he smells. You hope not. Somehow you think that might be for the best. You wonder if he can even feel shame, dehumanized as he is. You don't let yourself entertain the question of whether someone inhuman can even be stripped of his personhood. The wind shuffles through the bushes again and the dying sun casts long shadows in the forest around you. It makes the demon look more skeletal than he did before. His eyes squinted in fury, teeth clenched so tight it must hurt, like he couldn’t believe the gall you must have to even approach something like him. You knew you would have to push past your own fear before this man would ever let you help him- and that you are his last hope. Nobody else would help an aggressive demon- much less take care of him. Too much work, some posts on that horrible website had said. Not worth it, others lamented. Better for everyone to just cut their necks and get a new demon than to deal with something that’s broken. You weren’t going to let that happen.

And so you gulp your anxiety down, trying not to let your arm shake the water out of the bottle. No use drowning the forest floor. For a moment you fear he’ll lunge. His eyes, red as the blood that drips from his wounds, are locked solidly on you when they aren’t flickering about like a shadow might attack him. When he tenses you freeze until he stops trembling again. Like a macabre game of red-light-green-light.

Your thighs burn. He’s ready to fight you off. That much is clear even with his sickly pale skin and panting breath. Even if he can barely stand. Even if he’s so dizzy it seems the breeze might blow him over. “Please,” you beg quietly again, moving another few inches closer to the shivering demon. A mistake. He howls with panicked eyes, springing towards you and catching your arm before you can do anything. Just as fast, he sinks his sharp teeth into your forearm with a violent snarl, ignoring your screams. He bites harder, dragging you under him as you kick at him. You drop the water bottle and it tumbles, diluting the bloody ground. The demon hovers over you, pinning you to the moss as his blunt nails dug into your flesh.

You could feel the second your skin gave way and ripped. His body quaked in his violence, even as you sobbed. “Stop!” You wailed. You swear you can feel something cracking in your arm, and shriek again as his teeth grind further. Your vision blurs. You push your leg against his stomach, hitting against his head with your free arm in hopes of getting him to release you. It does nothing to stop the hissing beast atop you. “I’m sorry! Please!” You cry. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You know that nobody travels these roads, which is why the demon was dumped there in the first place.

Nobody would help you. You were entirely at the mercy of a violent, sick demon out of his mind with rage (terror). Your blood is hot, painfully so against his sticky tongue.

Almost sweet. He’s not sure if it’s the chills that have wracked his body for the last two and a half days, or if he’s just so starved that anything in his mouth burns like an open wound. A flicker of emotion passes over his face, disappearing as quickly as it came but you recognize the fear through your tears. He’s terrified of you, even as his drool mixes with your blood. You can’t breathe against the grip he has on your neck, and you know it’s going to bruise if you get out of this alive. Flailing weakly, you push against the demon again, grabbing at his cracked, flaky horns, and again it’s useless. Even in his half-starved, dehydrated and ill state he is so much stronger than you. You vaguely remember something about that on the website as black spots dance across your horizon. “Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” you gasped, trying to swallow any amount of air to soothe your burning lungs. Petrified. The demon doesn’t let go, but he isn’t biting any harder. You hope… you hope maybe you’ve gotten through to him somehow. You wonder if anybody would ever find your body out here. If so, would they find the demon as well? You hope he doesn’t have some transferable disease. You curse yourself for stopping your damn car. You hope he remembers to let go of your throat as you finally fall to the darkness and go limp under him. You don’t feel him trembling, collapsing against your chest with a weak groan.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Your throat burns, feels like sandpaper against the flesh as you wake to starry skies and a deeper, throbbing pain in your arm. Something heavy lays over you. Shivering. Muttering something as it twitches. Your clarity returns and your sight adjusts to the dark, revealing the demon that has fallen over you like a limp doll. Pale as death. Exhausted and groaning in his sleep. His eyes flicked under the lids. The demon's teeth had abandoned your arm. Left gaping, circular holes that you try not to look at lest you panic again. You take in your surroundings with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the deserted forest road. The water bottle had been drunk- what was left of it, anyway- and left crumpled on the ground. Streaks of blood painted the inside, like the demon had tried to sweep up any of the moisture that refused to fall with his tongue. You winced, moving your injured arm, but stopped when the demon grunted. His body jerked in his sleep, brows furrowed. Cloth had been tied tight around your wound- the man’s hand was still touching the wrappings. He must have used the last of his strength to prevent you from bleeding out, using scraps he tore from his own filthy, barely usable clothes. And then, he fell from the effort. It would explain the haphazard way he was draped over you. Your nose wrinkles from the stench, and you have to try yet again not to choke as you feel his greasy hair brush your face.

The poor thing seemed to have a permanent scowl, his face downturned even in his restless sleep. You make use of the opportunity to take in his appearance more.

He was almost entirely human-looking, except for the two curved horns on his clammy forehead and the wine-colored cracked skin that stopped before his brows and also colored the underneath of his eyes. His nails, long but blunt, had bits of dried blood under them. You couldn’t tell if they were naturally that dark blue color or it was the dirt caked to them. The demon looked as if he would have been quite built had he not been so emaciated. Even his face, sickly as it was, seemed like it had a hidden beauty to it that couldn’t be marred by his ragged trousers and worn wife-beater that was barely passable as a shirt anymore.

His weight against you is uncomfortable- sharp bone poking in all the wrong places, his breath quick and harsh against the quiet night. You breathe shallowly yourself in an attempt to avoid absorbing his fetid air. Sweat continued to drip from his forehead. You slowly, carefully, hold your uninjured hand in front of his dirt-caked skin and frown. You could feel his fever from an inch away. The wires tying him glint in the moonlight when he shifts. You had bolt cutters in the trunk of the car, along with a cooler of bottled water and more meat. He hadn’t eaten anything- the package was too far out of reach and now ruined by the sleeping sun. Your arm needed to see a hospital. He had missed any arteries, thank God, but you probably needed stitches. And antibiotics. Who knew what was in a demon’s saliva. But… Something in you knew you couldn’t leave this demon alone here, even with the injury he’d inflicted. If you left the demon here and went to the hospital, if the staff found out he was the one responsible, he would be killed without hesitation. You wondered if you might just be crazy.

You had to be.

The demon stirs, slowly opening his eyes. His hands press against you as he blinks, clearing his vision. He growls again with a sharp grimace, then he looked away, scowling tensely at a bush. Like he could light it aflame with his anger. Of course. Was he ever going to stop growling and giving you the stink-eye? It had surpassed the point that it was no longer frightening you. Now it just made you sad. It seemed as if he had no real control over his reaction to people, even if that person was trying to help. As if the anger that found its way through his clenched teeth was instinctual.

You stay very still, trying not to scare him. Or make him angrier. With his weight against your sternum, it's not like you could really move if you wanted to. Quietly clearing your burning throat you open your mouth to speak, then close it, unsure of what to say or how to break the ice. What do you say to a demon who nearly tore your arm off a couple hours ago? You wondered if he’d ever had a moment of peace in his life.

His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment you worry he might attack again. When he doesn’t lunge, despite his feral gaze, you finally speak. Maybe you could still work your way into his trust? Or at least, get him to stop jabbing you with his elbow.

“If you let me up,” you start quietly, softly, almost a whisper, “I can get those wires off of you. And get you food and water, but… but you have to promise that you won’t bite me again.” Your eyes are misty from the pain that throbs in your arm. Gravel digs into your back, and despite your compassion for a demon you knew probably had not an ounce of love shown towards him, and your honest wish to help, you are very scared of what this man might do to you if you tried to do anything without his acceptance again.

He studies you intensely, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, contemplating your offer. Like he knew you’re his last chance. He finally nods with a derisive snort, shakily leaning himself off you and slumping against the cedar tree.

You slowly move back, away from his reach, and realize that you don’t even know what to call this man. “What's your name?” You weren’t expecting an answer, weren’t even sure if the demon could speak. For a long moment there was nothing but silence while he continued to gawk at the ground, then- “Sekido,” he muttered quietly. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. You waited for him to keep talking, but he doesn’t.

Just stares at the dirt. “Okay… okay,” you take a deep breath. A name is progress, even if minorly so. “Sekido, I’m going to go to the trunk of my car. I have bolt-cutters in the back. I’m going to get that wire off you before we do anything else, okay? But I can’t do that if you’re going to bite me again. Do you understand?” You prayed he understood. Prayed that he’d let you get this over with. Prayed this was a bad dream and nobody could be so cruel, and you’d wake up without a bite in your arm.

Sekido’s body stills and he nods slightly, just barely noticeable. “Fine, human…” he grumbles. Spits ‘human’ like it’s a disease. As you shuffle to your feet, your legs numb and tingling, pondering the inhumanity that led this man to be tied to a tree, you think it might as well be.

You limp to your car and open the trunk with one hand, shuffling through the random assortment of items stored there (you’ll use them someday) until you reach a small red toolbox. You take the mini bolt cutter and trudge back to the rut. “I’m going to come beside you, okay?” You’d definitely learned your lesson about approaching this man without explicit permission. You weren’t eager to risk a repeat, so for now you would narrate everything you were about to do (in an effort to keep him from panicking) and wait for Sekido to confirm that it was okay.

He eyes the tool in your hand with scrutiny, trying to read your true intentions, and finally gives the slightest nod of his head. The wires cut into his skin horribly- far worse than you’d originally thought. Every movement sawed them deeper. Some areas, the few those odd purple petals were absent, had begun healing over. Quite literally trapping the metal inside. You couldn’t force yourself to imagine what that felt like, but you cursed quietly. “Sekido, I… I don’t know how to cut these things in a way that isn’t going to hurt,” you admit slowly. “They’re in you pretty deep, and-”

“-Just do it!” He snapped, glaring at you viciously. “Or are you too stupid to cut me free?” You blink at the insult. This demon… is not very nice, you think.

Not that you really blame him. Some part of you thought it was a good thing that he felt okay enough to hurl insults, so you said nothing in return. Maybe he didn’t think he would be punished for it. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care at this point.

At least he was cooperating.

“I’m sorry.” You lift the pliers to cut the first wire, and it twangs loudly, springing away with coiled force. Sekido jumps slightly as the wire breaks, then glares at you again like you weren’t supposed to see that minor display of weakness. Crimson blood dripped from the open wound. “You’re slow, human. Cut me free.” You ignore his impatience, unwilling to harm him any more than he already was. They were good cutters, but the vibrations left from the cut metal sent ripples into your hand. Rendered it numb. Spilt trickles of blood from the wound on your arm that you caught the demon glancing at once or twice. Finally, all but one had been cut from Sekido’s body. The man had torn the metal strings from his healing body as soon as they’d been clipped, despite your horrified gasp. Saved you from fumbling with them like an idiot.

Now, only the one wrapped around his neck remained. You were in awe that anyone could survive these injuries, even a demon, and you stare with hesitation at the wire cutting his throat. That is an incredibly vulnerable area. Sekido, to his credit, kept himself rooted to the spot throughout the process, but he flinches violently when you reach for his neck. Still, he does not bite you again. “Hurry up, stupid human. You’re wasting time,” he grumbles. Tries to hide his shaking hands by gripping his thighs so hard it draws blood. His sanguine glare seems like he’s challenging whether you’re brave enough to even attempt it. “It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper. You aren’t sure if it was for him, or for your own state of mind, as you finally reach his neck. As your fingers finally make contact with his neck and the wire, the demon abandons his bravado with wide eyes and a sharp growl. Within milliseconds, his hand grips your wrist, digging into the skin. “Sekido.” His eyes have glazed again. He wobbles a bit, shifting on his knees with a labored groan and steadies himself with a hand against the moss-covered ground. “Hey, look at me,” you coaxed gently, your voice a mix of concern and compassion. As you reach out, your hand delicately covers his. He hisses at the contact, but you don’t pull away. You realize, now, that even if you managed to get this demon free- even if you get him to a vet- he will never survive the week. His chance at rehabilitation is slim at best. He would never be able to handle people or the basic expectations society has of demonkind. You wonder if he even knows how to respond to kindness. Or his own fear- you couldn’t imagine not being terrified in his circumstance but Sekido seemed to consider it a weakness. Even if you saved him tonight, he would be executed before the end of the month. Unless… “It’s gonna be okay,” you reassure him with startling conviction. You’d keep him. You have to, and there’s not a doubt in your mind now that you’ll have a new, half-feral companion in your house come tomorrow. Somehow, you don’t feel so afraid anymore- not of this man who does not know kindness’s name. He desperately needs to. You just hope that he can deal with that.

Finally, Sekido releases a heavy breath and lets go of your wrist. “Quickly.” He orders, tilting his neck just enough to expose the horrible steel binding. The tension in the air is palpable as you gingerly push a finger under wire, and wince as fresh blood seeps from the open wound.

You can feel Sekido’s studious gaze on you. The intensity makes you want to crawl away and hide. You shake the thought from your head and continue to unwrap the cords. The pain in his tense posture is undeniable, but he holds himself still again until the wire slowly begins to loosen its grip on his throat. You can see the relief wash over him as the pressure fades, but the blood flows steadily now.

Another glint of steel beneath the blood forces your face to pale again. The wire had crossed over itself, pushing its brother deeper into Sekido’s flesh than you’d initially thought. Whoever tied Sekido to this tree wanted him to suffer until his death. You wipe away the misty tears threatening to form. How could anyone possibly be so cruel to any living being? Much less to something so human? “There’s another one,” you manage to tell him. “Sekido, I’m not sure if I can…That one is so deep, I…What if you…” Your voice trails off, your concern too heavy to speak. The depth of this wound is staggering, and the thought of worsening his condition looms ominously in your mind. Wilts away the courage you’d managed to keep thus far. Sekido’s lip curled, his patience wearing thin with your hesitation. The demon grunts irritably, his tone laced with anger and frustration as he retorts sharply- “What? What if I bleed out? Idiot human, I’ve been doing that for days!” He grabs your wrist again, and this time he thrusts it to his neck, nearly bloodying your hand in the wound. “Get this fucking thing off me!” He barked. His pale fangs glinted in the moonlight. “I don’t care if it bleeds! Cut it off!” He’s breathing heavily, grips your ankle as you stand up. You slip one blade of the cutters under the wire without another word, at an angle in an attempt to not touch the exposed flesh underneath. Then, as he opens his mouth to order you again you press the blades together with all your strength. It snaps and you hear Sekido’s teeth crash together again. Sends vibrations up your injured arm. You yelp, collapsing beside the demon and curling over on yourself and clutching your bitten arm in an attempt to mitigate the pain with a groan.

Sekido stares at you, gazes at your injury- the injury he caused- and looks away as you catch him.

He won’t apologize. You don’t expect him to, wouldn’t ask it of him. Somehow you know that’s not in his nature.

Instead, you slowly gather yourself and back away from him- give him his space. Now that he had no reason to force himself to accept your presence you weren’t sure how he would behave. So you rise shakily to your feet and turn to stumble your way back to the car. He watches you. Stares into your back as you put the tool back in the box and contemplate how you could get the demon to follow you now. Thanks to that stupid website, you knew that demons were trained to follow a human's command- under the threat of punishment usually, should the demon refuse. You would never hurt him, but… maybe you could order him into the car? But, would he even listen? You are not his master. You open the backseat door anyway, turn to face the demon who’s eyes seem to glow now in the moonlight. “Sekido,” you start firmly, hoping you wouldn’t have to order him like a misbehaving dog. “I would like you to get in the car.” Sekido’s eyes harden, and his body stiffens. He does not move, glares at you like he’s been doing all evening. After a long and awkward minute of staring at each other, seeing who might break first, you steel your resolve. “Sekido, get in the car,” you order him firmly, though not unkindly. He stays for a moment. You think he might refuse again, but then he slowly, dizzily, stands up and limps his way forward. You want to help him but he snarls when you take a step forward, so you let him crawl from the ditch by himself. He pauses before the door. Grumbles a quiet, “I hate all you humans,” and then slumps over on the seat before pulling himself completely into the car. You almost allow a small, fond smile. What a brat.

“You can hate me as much as you want. I won’t try to stop you,” you replied. You were shocked he was complying so quickly, but it suddenly made sense when he collapses completely in the back. Only then did the thought pass that perhaps you should’ve laid some kind of cover on the seat to protect the leather from the blood and filth. Returning to the back of the car, you grab another bottle of water from the cooler and uncap the lid. You hold it out to Sekido. “Slowly.” Sekido stares at you, then the water, and now your extended hand. He grabs the bottle. Then, he sits there with it, just… staring. “Please drink?” You wait patiently for a few moments, shifting awkwardly on your feet, but he does not drink. You knew the water would be like heaven to his parched throat, but he simply held the liquid, quivering. What else did that awful web article say, you tried to remember. Ah. That’s right. Demons weren’t allowed to have anything, own anything, use anything without permission. Only people own things. You were sure now that Sekido’s previous caretakers had beaten him for simply eating or drinking. Surviving. He obviously wanted the water- his eyes hadn’t left it- but…

You frown, and Sekido gives you a long look- mistaking the downturn of your lips dissatisfaction with him. You look up at the bright moon, steeling yourself for again treating this person as less than, because there was no other way to get through to him right now. “Sekido, drink the water,” you order quietly. He clutches the bottle, crinkling the plastic as he raises it to his lips immediately. Sekido flinches when the cool water drips on his sunburned chin, then he tips his head all the way back and swallows the liquid hungrily. He’s drinking so fast he’s nearly choking on it, and the bottle is empty in seconds- before you even have a chance to request he slow down. “Give me more,” he says bitterly. “I’ll get you more,” you promise slowly, “if you can keep down what you’ve swallowed. You drank that really fast… I want to make sure you don’t get sick, okay?”

You hope he’ll understand your concern. “When we get home, you can have as much as you’d like. And some food, too.” You’d decided against feeding him for the time being- just until you knew he could keep liquids down. If he couldn’t handle water, he definitely couldn’t handle anything as heavy as meat. Sekido glares at you from the back seat. He tries to take a deep breath, but coughs instead. “Just give me more!” He snaps. You want to, you want to more than he knows. “You’ll get more, Sekido. But we have to make sure you don’t stress your stomach. I swear, you’ll have so much water you’ll be bored of it!” His lip curls, and he slams his clenched fist on the leather. “Give it to me now!” he bellows angrily, gripping the back of your chair hard enough to leave imprints from his long fingernails. He didn’t seem concerned at all about consequences anymore. You flinch hard at his volume, startled. Even with all his snarling and grumping, he’d yet to shout at you. You shake your head in frustration, but you could see the desperation in his wrath. In an attempt to keep control of the situation, you take a breath to calm your voice, and you close the back door. “Let’s go home, Sekido,” you say as you slump in the front seat, nose scrunching at the putrid smell that’s invaded your vehicle. You wonder if you’ll have to have the seats scrubbed- remind yourself that it isn’t his fault. Sekido’s head jerks toward the doors as the lock clicked and the engine roared to life. You glanced in the back seat, at the demon you met only hours before- a stranger now trapped in this vehicle with you. His trembling had gotten worse, even with the uncomfortable heat in the car- a burning warmth that brought sweat to your brow. You exit the car again, unlock the rear door, and pop the back hatch to grab an old blanket you’ve kept for emergencies. “Here,” you hold it out to Sekido with your injured arm. He glances at the blanket, then slowly at you- does not take it, even when you push it a little closer. Does not make a sound.

So you make the decision for him and carefully wave it over his back. “Try to relax. Just a little… if you can.” The back door closes before he can respond, and then you’re slowly stepping on the gas pedal to leave the crackling gravel road. You don’t crack the windows.

The overwhelming reality of his situation hits him like a crashing wave, and he clutches the blanket tightly over himself- is grateful your eyes are on the road and not on his pathetic display of weakness. It is the first time he’s had such a simple comfort in longer than he remembers. A sigh leaves his cracked lips at the minimal relief it provided. He is alive. He is alive, and in a car, and someone saved him. Believed he was worth the trouble. It didn’t matter now the reasons behind this odd human’s relentless pursuit of him despite his aggression. All that mattered was that he would survive tonight, even if you would inevitably abandon him. Even if his head was swimming, and he couldn’t focus, and it took all his strength even to sit up. Even if his stomach cramped, and his wounds hurt, and he was still bleeding crimson pus on the leather seats. Even if the heated cushions and warm air did nothing to stave the chills that kept him shivering like a dog. Why on earth was he still so cold?

“Who are you?” Sekido’s gruff voice drifted from the back seat.

You give him your name, tell him you’re nobody special- was just passing by on the road. Couldn’t leave him there. He listens with an almost-amused snort.

Stops cold when you ask him about himself, if he has family. For a long minute, you think he won’t answer. You peer in the mirror, and see his eyes are closed. Maybe he fell asleep. You wouldn’t blame him for it.

Would be grateful, even. Then, slowly, quietly: “I… had… family.” You could barely hear him. It was like the words had to be forced from his throat. The wind whipped past the closed window with a hollow sound as the treeline closed in, leading you into a tunnel.

“Can you tell me about them?” Part of you was afraid of pushing too much, afraid that he wasn’t ready to talk about something personal, so you don’t hold your breath as you awaited his response. You just drive, sailing smooth around bends and corners as you try to bring this tortured soul home- attempting to make the journey as gentle as possible. “Three brothers,” he said simply, his breath heavy. “I had a father… a long, long time ago. Dead now, most likely. The old coward…” he trailed off. He didn’t seem to hold hate for this father of his, despite the insult. You decide not to press further about that one yet. “Tell me about your brothers,” you replied softly. “... Aizetsu is the youngest,” Sekido said slowly. “He’s always sad about something, but… kind. Compassionate.” The demon shifted, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter against himself, hoping the pressure might ease his nauseous stomach. “Urogi is obnoxious, loud and stupid. He never shuts up. Always too damn friendly with everyone. Always has enough energy to go around…” He coughed with a grunt and sigh. You glanced in the back, making sure he was alright but said nothing to ask about his condition. Somehow you knew it would only anger him to be seen in this state of supposed weakness. “Karaku is the eldest under me… and so different. Karaku never gets angry about anything. He always had to be touching you… I-... I hated them,” Sekido lied, choked wetly on his own untruth as he tries to bury his emotions the way he buried his head against the seat. Tries to slow the rapid bump-bump-bump of his heart before this strange human hears it. He had no control here. But then, when had he ever had control of anything in his life? “They sound entertaining,” you offer, thinking of your own family. You wonder what yours is up to now, as you pass fields and factories that dot the side of the road. The familiar sights meant that you wouldn’t have much farther to drive. You can’t bring yourself to consider what might have become of your demon’s siblings.

“They are…” He stopped with a frustrated mumble, trying to choke out the words. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he snarled at his own patheticness, grateful you couldn’t see past the blanket covering his head. “They were all I had,” he finished so quietly you had to strain to hear him over the hum of the engine.

Your own heart ached at the bone-weary exhaustion in his voice. Part of you wanted to tear apart the earth until you found Sekido’s brothers, but you don’t know what they look like and you couldn’t bring yourself to make this man an empty promise. For now, you settled with being glad he was with you, and hoped he would tell you more about himself eventually. Though he had trouble getting the words out, talking seemed to help quell his nauseated stomach a little. “Thank you,” you said, “for sharing. It means a lot.” “Mmmn,” Sekido grumbled quietly. He was trying to act indifferent in an attempt to keep himself calm, but you thought you could feel his appreciation at the same time. Even if he didn’t show it in his stoic, angry face. “Just… drive,” he sighed. You allow yourself to smile as you watch the road in front of you. Sekido’s bossy attitude would be considered a good thing- it meant he might trust that he wouldn’t be hurt for it, and if that was the case then he was welcome to be as commanding as he wanted.

The car was silent for several minutes, except for Sekido’s uncomfortable shifting in the back seat. Then he let out a pained groan. You were already concerned about his awful wounds. You’d hoped they’d start healing, like demons usually do- like you’ve read they usually do, but now that you’re stopped at a traffic light and can finally turn to see him again, you can tell they’re just as inflamed as they were before you got Sekido into the car. Your eyebrows furrow when he releases a small whimper, holding his head with his elbows on his knees. What if… What if something terrible happened before you could get him to a doctor tomorrow? He was incredibly sick already, though the worst had been coming in waves. “Sekido?” He sat back, his head swaying dizzily while he looks at you. Sekido’s bleary gaze wanders aimlessly, unable to focus despite his heavy blinking. His face is pallid, like it’s been drained of blood. “... don’t feel good…”

You debated pulling over but didn’t despite your urge to tend to his distress. You don’t want to upset him more, and you were so close to home now anyway. He opened his mouth and you thought he might say something, but all he does is moan again through clenched teeth as he shudders and holds his stomach. “Sekido, are you okay?”

Drool drips from the corner of his panting mouth as his body wavers. You watch him anxiously. Sekido’s eyes go wide, and his chest heaves, spasms so harsh you can see it in the mirror.

And then he retches.

You can hear it splash on the floor, and your own stomach kicks. “Oh. Oh, God,” you say, one hand against your mouth, pulling over. You crack the window open. Sekido, sits up again with a hiccup, slumps his back against the seat with vomit dripping from his nose and sweat from his brow. Doesn’t have the strength to be disgusted with the bile covering his lips.

He said nothing- looked close to falling unconscious. Or worse, your fear told you. You still know nothing of demons except for what that website promoted, but… he really did look like he might be dying. Sekido’s hands tremble more. You’re trying not to vomit yourself from the smell, bitterly sour and somehow so much worse than the original scent of decay and dirt that had permeated the vehicle with him. You look glance at his wounds again, and the angry infected flesh around them as he falls over again and stays there. Reaching back, you gently pat his upper arm, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain up your own forearm. “Hey…” No response. “Sekido?” You shake him, an icy fear shooting settling in your chest. Something was wrong. “Hey!” Finally, he slaps your hand away with a whiney grunt. Something was very wrong. You shake your head. This demon cannot wait until tomorrow for a doctor. He needs one right now. You tap letters into your GPS system, then your face falls. The nearest 24-hour emergency veterinarian that takes demons is 3 towns away- that's over an hour drive!

Sekido pants something to himself, convulsing with a pitchy groan. His eyes squinted, rolling back as he huffed.

“Hey, you stay with me, okay?” You say with a pained smile and a firm squeeze on his arm. “I told you that you’d be okay, didn’t I? You gotta try to stay awake for me.” “...Tired,” Sekido grumbled quietly.

“Don’t sleep, Sekido. Don’t you dare.” ‘Don’t make me a liar’, you wanted to say. Couldn’t bear the thought of breaking your promise now. Couldn’t bear the thought of this man dying in the backseat of your car after everything.

Weren’t going to let that happen. Tires squealed, quickly turning the vehicle around. You hoped the streets would remain as empty as they have been. Prayed no cops were on the prowl tonight, as you take a deep breath and push your foot on the gas pedal.

Wind tears through your hair, howling as it passes in your race against time. Every second counted.

#pet au #sekido/reader #sekido and reader #hurt/comfort #kny sekido #demon slayer sekido #demon slayer pet au #arkwrites

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anonymatt1 · 21 days

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another story of mine! this is fiction and i’d never condone anything like this irl, but hopefully you sick perverts (affectionate) can get off to it

CW: stalking, cnc, creampie, bondage, drugging, intoxication

I first saw you when we sat next to each other in class. I’ve always been a shy person, most of the friends I’ve made already know someone else in my friend group. So it took me by surprise when you took an interest in me. I know you were just being nice, but when you introduced yourself I knew you were going to be my girl. We got closer over the semester, and you even invited me over to your apartment a few times to work on a project or to study for a test. I fell more and more in love with you the more time I spent with you, but I could tell you didn’t feel the same way. I didn’t want to scare you off, so unfortunately I could only express my feelings for you in more secret ways. Sneaking a little card into your bag that says “I love you so much it hurts”. Putting in a mobile order for your coffee when I notice you going to Starbucks (under your name of course, I can tell you’re still not ready to accept my love just yet). Scaring away anyone else who shows interest in you so I can save you all for myself.

It was over Thanksgiving break that I had a realization. If I couldn’t get you to fall for me regularly, I would just have to make you fall for me. After that I started to plan the best way to make you love me as much as I love you. I remembered you saying you didn’t have the best family life, and how you really dreaded going home for the holidays. Using that, I was able to convince you to stay on campus later than the rest of your roommates. By this point you also trusted me enough to confide that you thought someone was stalking you, and you’d feel better if you weren’t alone.

Now I just had to figure out the best way to break you apart, so that I’d be able to mold you back together as my own. You’d mentioned how you enjoy smoking weed, and I said I’d get some alcohol even though we were both still underage. What better way to begin our break from college courses than relaxing in a way that just wasn’t feasible during the semester (at least not for honor students like us). I told you that I’d stay a little more sober, to make you feel safer from this “mysterious” stalker, and that you could just let yourself go for this one night. You’d gotten pretty cross-faded, but I had to make sure I didn’t mess up my only chance to make you mine. So I roofied your next drink and gave a toast. You didn’t notice I wasn’t actually taking my shot alongside you, and you certainly didn’t notice me picking you up as you blacked out.

I took you to your bedroom and laid you out on top of your neat sheets. You looked so cute, just laying there, so peaceful. I had to shake myself out of my reverie so that I could secure you before you woke up. You wouldn’t be awakening any time soon, but I needed to make sure everything went perfectly. Another sign that we were meant to be together were the posts of your bed. They were thick, perfect to tie you down to until you realized what I already knew, we were made for each other. I spread your limbs out so I could have easy access to all of your body, I wanted to be able to explore every inch of you. Next I had to gag your mouth. I hated to do that to you, but unfortunately I couldn’t take the chance that you might panic before I could show you my love.

Now that I had you positioned correctly, I could move on to pleasuring you. During some of our more risque conversations, after we’d finished studying and you got a little tipsy or high, you mentioned how sensitive your tits were. It was obviously meant as an off-handed comment to a friend, but it gave me an idea on how to convince you I was the only man for you. I taped little bullet vibes onto your nipples and turned them onto medium. I wanted to make you as aroused and sensitive as I could before you came to. Next I set a vibrator to rest on your clit, but this one I left on low. At that point I couldn’t help but take a taste of your pussy, the sight of it too tempting to pass up. You hadn’t worked up much arousal yet, but just the taste of you nearly drove me to madness. I had to take a second to calm myself, and then I started slowly rubbing the outside of your vagina. I knew it’d be some time still before you’d wake up, so I just gently stroked up and down your lips, swapping which arm I was using a couple times so that I didn’t wear one out too much. I started to hear some moans coming out of your mouth so I quickly moved up near your face. You were still unconscious, but it seemed my ministrations were doing a good job of getting you worked up. I took a bit of a chance, but I had to hear those moans straight from your mouth. I removed the gag, and hearing your sweet voice was the most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. You still weren’t waking up, so I took another chance and had my first kiss with you. You couldn’t kiss me back, and yet it was still the best kiss I’d ever had. Then I noticed your eyes shifting, a small sign that you would soon awaken.

It took a large amount of restraint to pull away and put the gag back on, but the thought of losing you was enough to make me break our kiss. As your eyes fluttered open, I reached back down to your cunt to find that you had become soaked. The continued stimulation of the vibrators had made you start to leak arousal. The alcohol, weed, and drugs had fogged up your brain, and all of the sensations you started to feel as you woke up didn’t do anything to help clear it. I slapped your face. Not too hard, just enough to help jump start your consciousness. The first thing you saw after coming to was my face. I couldn’t help but have a smile on my face, I was just so excited to finally be able to express my feelings for you. I saw the fear enter your eyes as you realized what was happening and rushed to reassure you. “Don’t worry baby. I know it’s frightening right now, but soon you’ll understand I’m just trying to help you realize we belong together.” This didn’t do anything to calm you and you started to struggle against the ropes holding your limbs. Seeing that I hadn’t done enough to convince you yet, I turned up each of the vibrators and started to suck on your nipples. I continued to rub the outer lips, but I also started to gently finger you as well. You had already gotten aroused enough that I could quickly add another finger and start to stretch you farther. When you became aware again your moans had stopped, but the increased stimulation began to force you to let out sounds of pleasure once again. Once I noticed this moved to be face-to-face with you once again. “See princess, I just want to make you feel good. If you stop struggling then I can start to make you feel even better,” I murmur.

Tears had started to roll down your cheeks and I quickly licked up the trails. Your face was too beautiful to be marred by such things. At this point I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pulled off my pants and boxers, revealing my rock hard cock. Your enticing body had gotten me stiff as a board and leaking pre from the tip. “Now I’m going to start making love to you, darling.” My loving tone and words were at odds with the rape that was occuring, and yet somehow they still felt appropriate. I replaced the vibe on your clit with my hand so that I could thrust into you more freely. With one smooth push, I fit the entirety of my cock into your snatch. I saw your eyes flutter once again, but this time it was because of the rush of pleasure you were feeling instead of your groggy state of mind. “That’s it princess. Let my cock push all those silly thoughts of resistance away.” My voice washed over you. The calm, smooth, and kind tenor mixed with your growing arousal, battling with the logical side of your mind saying that this is a bad thing.

I saw that I was starting to make progress, so I went back to your weak point. I pulled the vibes off from your nipples and left them untouched for a minute as I continued to make love to you. Then I took one in my mouth as I gently rolled the other between my fingers. The small period of sensory deprivation had left them extra sensitive, so this managed to bring another moan out of you. This time it was more long and drawn out, everything came together to push you over the edge into orgasm. As I felt the walls of your vagina start to clench around my cock, I pumped into you faster. I wanted us to orgasm together for our first time, bonding us together. The sensations from your pulsing cunt, and the knowledge that I was the one that gave you all this pleasure were just enough to set me off as well.

We orgasmed together and your cunt milked me for all it was worth. Your womb hungrily swallowed my semen until I was utterly spent. As we both came down from our highs, I shifted so that we were face-to-face once more. “I’m sorry that I hid my love for you for so long, but I couldn’t take the chance that I’d push you away. Can you forgive me darling?” I muttered. “I’m going to take off the gag now. Please don’t make me have to hurt you, I only want what’s best for you.” I held eye contact with and reached up to pull out the gag. Your eyes were still watery, tears building up but not falling. You weren’t able to say it out loud yet, but you did manage a small nod to show you accepted my love for you. Another smile broke out across my face, what a wonderful night this was. Content that I was able to show you how we were meant to be together, we laid down and fell asleep, my cock still resting inside you.

#mine #matti’s writing #cnc kink #cnc stalking #cnc k!nk #intox cnc #forced intox

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enderlaithdraws · 10 months

Text

Crumb, Ranboo, Wilbur, and Charlie in the zombie apocalypses pt.1 w.i.p.

And a look into the creative process :D I'm giving this concept the title of "Zombie Apocalypse with The Crew"

Ranboo has a pistol (you can kinda see it on his right side) but his weapon of choice is a metal bat and a bowie knife. He calls it "The WACK N STAB"

I'm very proud of my nails into the crumbverses. Also I'm thinking about maybe the crew has a 5th member who is a doll or something of the sort. Just so they can joke around and keep high moral.

You can see that he is wearing no armor but some cloth and duct tape arm guards and goggles. In my mind the apocalypse happened before there was ample time to react. Meaning that the gear they have is mostly fast makeshift items from common objects. Any extra things like the guns each person has or extra apparel is from looting.

Also... Jorts <3

I'd say that at some point Charlie got lost and when he started following any human voice he could hear, he ended up right behind Ranboo. Who, instinctively stabbed what they thought was a zombie. mans took an L and a flesh wound.

The batchette is an idea from Instructables on Pinterest. I saw it while getting inspo and I could hear Charlie half screaming "Oh. my. gorshes... guys this power drill has given me a gift from God! BEHOLD... THE BATCHETTE!!!" Original image linked to this picture if you wanna get a better idea of what it looks like.

Wilbur! I feel the need to change face shape a bit to better represent him. Basically everything on him has a story. What he was wearing at the initial invasion and start of the apocalypse was a white button up shirt and black pants. He was on his way to meet with a tour manager in a café but chaos is unleashed before he can. Later on traded out some looted boots for his dress shoes. And looted the harness which he uses to hold items against his body and keep them from noisily bouncing around in a bag or pocket. At some point he gets stuck in a house in the country side that has been nearly untouched. But he knows it's only a matter of time before he is found by his predators. He has no way of communicating to the group and needs to fend for himself as long as it takes to reconnect. Which could be months. For that reason he finds an undershirt so he can unbutton his dress shirt and have more mobility. He takes down a large curtain and uses it to wrap around his legs as armor. (Think about it, its hard to bite or stab through a thick curtain.) And just cuts his pants so that it doesn't encumber him. (He doesn't take them off because the curtains are only covering his legs. Plus pockets are good for survival)

Once he's done with the curtain he finds some metal roller skate knee pads to help hold them in place and realizes that the curtain rod would make a decent weapon. Continuously looting the house he finds four kitchen knifes and some ninja stars in a bedroom (likely belonging to the family edgy teen) then attaches them using a hand held blow torch from the garage.

When the night comes he is barricaded in a top bedroom and there are zombies pounding on the door. It is a moonless, pitch black night and the little bit of light points out the glimmer of a golden cross necklace atop a bedside table. While he is no man of God. He can use all the help he can get. And continues to wear it even when he is safe. Not in a religious way, but in an idea that there is a greater good out there. And the world will be reborn again... someday.

rando in the back: *sniffs and wipes a singular tear from his eye* tHat is sO beUtIfUL..

So yeah that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed this sneak peak and if you have any ideas or wanna join in lemme know! While I am doing this for fun I would love it others could enjoy it too. So if you like it or think your friends/viewers would, then please Reblog. :D but what ever you do, have a good day!

BACK TO DRAWING AAAAAAAAAAAAA

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rreskk · 10 months

Text

Rapture to his soul

Summary: Trevor Philips, as we all suspect, is a brat. He’s unkind, deserving of Hell. Pondering the punishments that would smoothen him the most, you had taken him a ride through Satan’s tour-bus, but in the most sensual way possible. And it may of ended in something more heavenly.

TW: -Rough smut -Kinks: Bondage, masochism, sadism, cock play.

Word count: 2640

Pairings: Dominant Fem!reader/Brat!Trevor Philips

He wanted it.

The brat was bratting, and he was bratting well.

Fantasies, fantasies, fantasies… All he ever wanted, when he was tormenting and riddling you, was to be used. He had visions of you tying him and torturing him relentlessly, like he was nothing but a body bag for you to fuck. The need of your punches to his ribs – My, my! He’d want you to break his ribs! Strangle him with your arms; spank him until he was sliced and oozing red, waterboard him sensually, cover his skin with your bitemarks and fingernails.

He knew he was an utter dick to you. There were moments you were being stalked by him. His gut told him something worthwhile. The hallucinations of his drug use had made him see magic in your eyes, the hallow fire that could burn the life out of him. His obsession grew.

He wanted to die in your hands.

He wanted to die under your circumstances.

He wanted your heel to pierce his cock until it was battered and bruised, unable to work due to its dysfunction and your strength. He was small enough not to care. That 4 inch, uncircumcised penis could be bitten off by your filthy mouth and he’d thank you until Hell pitied his weakness for women so controlling.

Like fuck, he’d push all his internal issues onto you. While you stand, you’re flying in his eyes. While you stab his guts, you’re healing him. His mind is so messed up after the number of women treating him so wrong, and he’d never learn from it, resulting in your torture.

While it was all an insight buried in his ill-minded brain – he still wants it. He still wants you. Even though you were nothing but an ordinary lady, he was dying to be held and beaten by your fists. So he made himself deserve your wrath. He doesn’t care if it’s immoral; he’d never care! He’s the black sheep of society, there’s no need to fit in. He’ll carry on being a menace until –

“Urgh!”

Until he was being used, by you.

“Ohhh… Yes, yes! Again, sunshine! C’mon… Show me your worst,” Trevor’s voice was broken and swollen after being forced to suck a 7 inch dildo for your entertainment. You had made him gag, almost vomit over that damn toy.

It lied in front of him, the drool and mucus seeping from the surface and material. It was bright purple and intimidating.

“Unlike your dick, this one can give better head.” You smirked and belittled as he whined. Degradation was his favourite kink after all the years of degrading other people due to his own insecurities.

“Fuck… Mm, yes, it’s better than my dick. It’s big, it’s so big… Fuck…”

“And you love sucking on big dicks, don’t you?”

“God… Talk to me like that again, I’m so horny…” He whimpered from his place on the seat. His wrists were handcuffed by a rugged, steel chain. He was definitely bleeding due to the edgy metal scraping his skin every now and then. The cuffs had restricted his mobility. Trevor could only move his legs and head, the rest of his body unwillingly paralysed.

“You’re useless. You are only horny, horny, horny…” You chimed and moved the purple dildo closer to his parted lips – “You wanted this. You wanted to suck a big dick to impress me because your one is too little.”

His eyes glistened with delight when you continued to devalue his self-worth. Trevor went cross-eyed, staring at the dildo ahead with desperation. He let his tongue fall out, saliva dripping like a wild animal that had been tested positive with rabies.

“Here comes the aeroplane…”

He went wide eyed when you had forced the dildo back into his mouth, raiding his throat and making him gag more and more. You could see the tip of the toy hit his windpipe, his whole gullet moving from the outside. Trevor’s drool had left trails upon the purple cock that ran all down the 7 inched length. His moans were muffled and his eyes were bright red, stained with tears and the meth he had digested less than 24 hours ago.

You carried on deep-throating the dildo into his wretched mouth. You’ve never seen a grown man so hungry over disrespect and abuse. While you were used to seeing women being treated like dolls in a dollhouse – it was more captivating watching a professional criminal, a macho guy, someone who makes himself seem so dominant…

Turn submissive.

“ARGH!” His whimpers were like lullabies of the century.

“What’s wrong, baby? Is the cock too small for you?”

Trevor left bite marks against the dildo in attempts to taste the plastic. He was so blurred in his lust that your words were like sugar to his ears. He’d whinge whenever you rammed the toy into his gob, the harshness burning and irritating the surface of his mouth, managing to bruise the wetness.

“Oohhh…”

You noticed his body twitching uncontrollably. Glancing down, you saw his dishevelled penis quiver and trembled, his liquid cum squirting from his tip and dampening the chair underneath until he was sitting in his own fluids.

The dildo remained tightly in his mouth, silencing his moans that were the result of his climax.

“ARGH! UHH, ohhh… MNGH!” He spluttered out.

The wild Canadian coiled as you fondled his achy cock. Your thumb had roughly pinched his tip and causing the man to cry in soreness. You had rough-handled his length until he couldn’t help form another tight, fuming erection that throbbed against your palm. He squealed for your attention.

“URGHH!”

“Shut up.” He immediately stopped struggling but still held a small grin at your sexy command – “I’ll make that dildo into a 24/7 gag if you don’t shut up.”

Trevor tilted his head in pain. You suddenly disburden the dildo, throwing it aside. His tongue was deadened after your intimate persecution. He couldn’t help the saliva streaming down his lips and chin.

“Fuckkk… Shit, [y/n],” The numbness of his mouth had made him slur, “You’re brutal. It’s so fuckin’ hot… More, more, more. Please, I’m begging you. You’re amazing, my fuckin’ angel. I worship you, baby, I worship… You. Only you, please…”

You, while ignoring his affectionate words, had his dick between your hands again. Every time you made contact with his sensitive boner, his body fell into glitches; so overblown by your continuous maltreatment, having no justifiable reason to rile you up more since… He’s already troubled you enough. Nevertheless, you were no angel. Neither was he.

In this situation, you were Satan punishing Judas for the immortal qualities of his sins and destruction.

You tightened the grip around his cock and cooked up his fresh skin into turning red and ill-fated. He was fighting against the distraints, crying for forgiveness as the sensation was overstimulating. Trevor’s hips would jerk against your palm in response to your nasty fist.

“FUCK, FUCK… Shit, [y/n], I can’t – “

“Hold it together…” A murmur left your lips. You had leaned closer, your hot breath bullying his weakened erection before spitting on his tip. It drooled down the small length and mixed with his pubic hair.

“Oh… Yeah, yeah.” Trevor stared down as you began taking him into your mouth.

Your teeth left bitter red lines, sucking him for a few slow minutes. He tasted bad. You’d swallow his cock whole, inspecting how cruelly his skin was. He didn’t care though. As long as your tongue was feasting him till dawn appears, he’ll be more than delighted.

Nevertheless, you’d occasionally feel his thighs unconsciously close against your head. Your hands exacted his ankles far apart. Trevor whined, his legs forced open uncountably. He panted your name numerous times. His thighs began shaking when you deep-throated his raw cock, occasionally spitting out your saliva into tormenting his balls as well.

Nibbles after nibbles, bites after bites, you licked over his damaged boner before he threw his head back, crying like a deer in headlights.

“FUCCCKKK!”

He didn’t last long until he squirted semen down your gullet. Trevor had whimpered at the remarkable orgasm that had taken him by surprised. At this point, he was savouring enough sweat to fill gallons of bottles. His chest was drenched and due to his rapid breathing, his rips were evident and abs ripping through his bloated tummy.

“Pleaseee… [y/n], fuck… Baby, babe, darling – “ He whispered, “I love you, I love you! Good Lord, I’m fuckin’… Hell!”

His inflamed cock departed from your salty mouth and flapped against his wet stomach. Trevor’s tummy pouch was trembling and being sucked in and out so dramatically. You noticed his Adams-apple adjusting as his breathing grew irregular and manic. Your persecution had left him broken.

“[y/n], fuck me, woman! You’re amazing, you’re divine. I’ll do anything for you!” He praised, eyes widening with pride and lust.

“Tell me that again when you’re unable to breathe.”

Trevor’s lip twitched. He felt riled up and couldn’t help but send you a glare.

“You’re lucky, so damn lucky, sugar… I don’t get on my knees for no one – “ He’d pause and shriek out. You pushed your heel against his bare crotch, eliminating the remaining feeling in his penis.

Trevor rocked his chair back and forth like a strangled, mental patient. He was whining your name, drool leaving army of strands from his lips. You applaud his pain and pushed harder, watching him coil and combust in a pit of Hell, destruction, and evil pleasure.

“SHIT, OH GOD! IT HURTS SO GOOD!”

The chair he was struggling against began cluttering the floor. You left your heel resting on his tip before tightening your gaze upon your adoring sight. He was praying for you, worshipping.

“I love you, I fuckin’ love you! God, thank you so much! Thank you!” If he wasn’t cuffed, he’d have his hands together and religiously yearning for your undying touch.

“Harder?” You smirked.

He gulped, “Shitt… Shit, shit. Fuck, I- I don’t think I could take it.”

“Aww…”

Trevor’s eyes dropped down at your foot that abused his genitals. He shivered, hating how you cooed him so easily. Was he really that submissive and… Weak looking?

“Fine… FINE!” He crossed his eyebrows and grinned, “Go harder, [y/n]. I can take it. I’m a big boy.”

You hummed but didn’t reject the offer. Your thigh muscles began contracting as you pushed against your heel, ramming the burning cock, the pressure causing it to shimmer and brought Trevor great pain. He tried to choke back the urge to cry your name. He needed to prove his masculinity, even if he wanted this in the first place.

“Urgh… Mngth… Fuuckk…” His jaw clenched, sweat trickling off his stubble.

“You’re a big boy still?” You continued to belittle him.

“I’m… I- I’m a fuckin’ man! Your man… You – FUCK! Shit… Oh, no, no… It hurts, I – “ Trevor was obviously distraught at his failure. He pouted his face when squeaking out some groans. The thought of embarrassing you after demanding he was “a big boy”, it made him realise something; he deserves this, someone as strong as you… Putting him into his place.

Your heel gave him one last punch in the genitals before stopping your cruel, cold-hearted exploitation.

“I’m sorry… I’M SORRY!”

His penis was left thrashed and bombed. His tip was all tainted with his cum and the red, swollen skin. Due to being uncircumcised, he was left looking even more deformed. It flopped, sitting between his shaky thighs and leaving Trevor to mourn.

“Oh dear…” You gently stroked his length with your index finger, “Was I too much for you? Do I need to make you feel better?”

Knowing you were bullying his shallowness, he couldn’t care. Trevor nodded shyly and refused eye contact, fuelled by embarrassment and humiliation. He had no filter now – expressing something oddly personal and abnormal.

“Yes please, mommy…”

“Ah, alright, alright.” You whispered, not attempting to question his use of name.

You decided to treat him nice for once. You softly held up his cock and rubbed it until he grew another erection. Trevor, as per usual, choked out a few moans while the sensation of your palm scarred his beaten dick. It was nice, yet decayed.

“C’mon, you got this…” You encouraged as you began sitting on his naked lap, beginning to sit and cuddle his erection with your pussy, rewarding him – “Good boy, c’mon… Help me out here.”

He gasped and breathed, “Fuuuuuuck… Oh, yeah… That feels nice…” His hips jerked up and fully penetrated your sex, both staring at each other fondly.

You sat on his lap, beginning to bounce. His eyes never left yours. Trevor was hypnotised and found himself admiring every detail of your face. The sexual energy had turned into tension. Although you were both physically rubbing against each other, his cock thrusting into your pussy while he remained cuffed to the seat, but there was a need to do more.

“[y/n]…” And he was the first to speak.

“Mhmm… Yes?”

“… [y/n].” His eyes grew hyperfixated upon your lips. He still saw some of the cum stain from his penis. He wanted to taste him on you.

“Fuck, Trevor… Mmm, yeah, yeah, yeah.” You had both increased the pace.

Hands were now buried, graving your mark onto his naked shoulders that were pooled in sweat and saliva. His hips were grinding heavily against your cunt. It was like he ignored the repulsive burning from your heel and mouth.

“Trevor, fuck…”

He whimpered – “I love you, I- I love you.”

“God, you’re still so good.” Surprise lilting your tone of voice.

Now there was pride.

Trevor leaned his head forward and trailed kisses against your neck, enjoying his time between the nuzzle of your collarbone and jaw. It was warm there. It welcomed his lips as you were gifting his cock some quality time after hours of needy torture.

“Shit…”

He loved your moans.

“You’re gonna be so sore tomorrow.” You’d giggle.

“I know,” He responded, “But I don’t care… You can abuse me any day, [y/n].”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it. You’ll learn not to underestimate my desires.” Trevor pulled away from your neck and smirked – “I always get what I want.”

Still a brat, a brat bratting well. You had to physically restrain yourself from choking him relentlessly, and you had successfully kept your cool.

Then he began stumbling again.

“Oh God… I’m gonna cum…”

“Mhm…” You automatically groaned, feeling an orgasm rise.

“[y/n]… Fuck… Shit, shit!”

You bounced up and down before his dick couldn’t take it. You hunched forward and buried your forehead against his as you came all over his beaten cock that shivered and spilt out his own semen. The lack of movement had led to his orgasm filling you up in your soaked cunt. He whimpered and thanked you loudly. He thanked you for keeping his penis warm as you squirted.

Silence summoned. Trevor was cradling you with his head, tilting it to the side to meet yours. He had his eyes closed, still inside you. You both felt your cum combine and spill out of your pussy, streaming down his burning cock. Neither said anything.

The following aftermath of your shared rapture held a close bond. After all the pain he went through, your chest pressing against his was all that mattered. Trevor moved close to your ear and mumbled;

“I’d rather feel pain than nothing. Pain from you. It’s ecstatic. It’s like a drug, sugar. Promise you’ll do this more often? I just feel…”

He paused.

“I feel alive.”

And the compliment alone was a big “thank you” for making him feel something. You smiled at him.

“Only you’d like being a masochist. Never change, Trevor, never change.”

#trevor philips #trevor gta #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips fanfiction #gta 5 #gta #GTA V #grand theft auto #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft auto v #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing

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