#This man is a weirdo AND a menace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

abysswalkerastraea1 · 1 month ago

Text

Sporadic Contingency

The predicament you found yourself in was utterly unfathomable. Death was yet to come for you, perhaps it was because you had a lot to offer the clown; he in turn reciprocated. Perhaps he thought you were amusing, for now.

Your morals must be twisted because one thing was for certain: There was no denying the unshakeable, terrifying tension building between the two of you.

12,400 words

Slow burn

Rough sex (obviously!!)

Art being a fucking dom

The predicament you found yourself in was utterly unfathomable. In fact, thinking back through foggy thoughts, you couldn't really trace back to where this started.

You supposed fate aligned correctly for you. Logically speaking, you had a lot to offer the clown, and he in turn reciprocated favours.

Living within the vast forest adjacent to miles county, not many people ventured into the thick greenery. You had resided here for some time, at first with your father and then on your own once he passed.

You're grateful for the fact that your father had such a lively business. If not for that, you doubt you'd ever be able to live so well and comfortably all alone on the outskirts of the county.

You lived in an old cottage with ample firewood to stay warm and luscious land that stretched afar. A lot of it you used to keep animals.

You were accustomed to fattening the pigs up through spring while they birthed their young and slaughtering them in the winter for food supply. It was just another day at work for you; not that you had to work. You could live amiably without any need of strenuous hard work like farming, but you enjoyed it.

It was more of a passionate hobby than a job.

You travelled into town for any necessities you may need in your fathers old truck, but largely remained to yourself and a chunk of the townspeople knew that.

Some called you crazy for living in nature while that killer was on the loose, but you moving into town didn't necessarily change your chances of survival.

Thus you stayed put.

It wasn't until one clear night just after Halloween did you hear a disgusting squeal coming from one of your pigs. It was the sound of a slow death, and it startled you enough to grab your late fathers shotgun and storm outside courageously to see just what the hell was stealing your livestock.

You expected an animal. What you found instead shocked you.

A man, tall and lumbering and clad in a monochromatic clown costume kneeled hunched over one of your pigs, it's body twitching and steaming as it's hot innards met the chill of the outside air.

You heard the wet sound of his hands delving into the pigs guts and gripping a handful before bringing the meat to his lips.

This stranger was eating your livestock. Devouring them like an animal, raw and uncooked and grotesquely bloody.

You remained frozen, shotgun pointed, glancing at the black bag that lay beside him full of various menacing tools stained crimson.

If your father taught you one thing, it's that you should treat people with kindness, especially the strange ones.

The weirdos are the most dangerous, and living out here all alone meant that if one ever wandered into your land, it was probably best to treat them as a guest and act amicably, if only for your own safety.

Steeling your nerves, you cocked your head at the man, seeing the gap appear in the pigs abdomen as it's organs were devoured.

"Might want to cook that, stranger." You spoke gently, shotgun lowered to the floor.

The freakish clown paused, fingers laced in guts, head turning slowly and deliberately to the side.

"Tastes better that way, personally. Cooked, I mean." You shifted nervously from foot to foot, the chill of the autumn air getting through your pyjamas.

Maybe coming out here in nothing but some bottoms and a vest wasn't such a good idea.

The mans side profile was lanky even while crouched. His face held extremely prominent features, and you began to wonder if they were prosthetic or not.

You dared to step directly behind the stranger, his blood shot eye staring at you from the corner, pig entrails held frozen. They were cold now.

"Come with me. I can cook that right up for you, throw a few herbs and spices in and make that a great dish."

The clown let the guts slip through his fingers, gloves tainted red, and stood to his feet slowly. Your breath froze in your throat at the way his height seemed to grow and grow as he extended fully, back straight and rigid, and turned around almost menacingly to stare down at you with a dirty grimace.

Apart from the bizarre clown face paint, he appeared incredibly beat up. His one eye was completely red, and you wondered if it was simply shut from injury or if it had been gouged out. It was hard to tell with the amount of blood covering it.

He had a few large gashes littering his body in various places too. His clown costume was ripped terribly.

You both stood silently, your body shivering lightly at the blustery wind and your hair tousling gently. The clown remained unperturbed to the elements.

His good eye was narrowed into a glare, face contorting in an ugly fashion, eyeing your bare feet, your lowered shotgun, up to your bare shoulders and then finally back to your face.

An ominous smirk began to stretch across the strangers visage. It was actually rather unsettling, even without the pigs blood covering him. Merely the smirk alone set your nerves on edge.

You cocked your hip, hand resting on it comfortably as you stared up at him. "So, what do you say? It's a cold night, and you're looking a little worse for wear. Come on in, I'll help you out." Your words were true, and you think the stranger sensed that, but he seemed keenly aware of the way your voice shook.

You don't know how you knew that. Maybe it was the way his lifeless eyes shined dimly at the way it shook. Eventually, the clown nodded slowly, wordless.

You offered him a smile and a nod of finality. "Great. Follow me, if you would." You dared to turn away from this maniac, though you supposed if he wanted to kill you he could easily do that while you were looking at him; He was huge.

Not in the muscular sense, but in height he was at least a head and a half taller than you. Incredibly lanky and thin but from the way he was devouring that pig, he definitely had strength.

Walking a few steps, you paused suddenly and spun around, your silent guest directly behind you. It startled you but you tried not to let it show. "Mind grabbing the rest of the pig? Wouldn't want it going to waste. I'd do it myself, but you know how a lady gets.", you chuckled breathily; it was hard to speak when his void eyes were staring at you, smirk still somehow present and frozen on his face.

"--Don't want to dirty these pyjamas, they're my favourite. And, pardon me for saying but you're already dirty, and you'd no doubt be able to pick it up with ease, so..", you finished lamely, smiling as genuinely as you could.

It felt forced that time. He was starting to unnerve you.

Finally, the clowns expression fell into one of light thought, doing a visual sweep of your stature. It embarrassed you slightly, maybe he was judging your pyjamas. They were simple, but your favourite. Or maybe he silently agreed that yes, he could easily pick the animal up compared to you.

Dead weight was heavy, after all. And he was a big guy, in a sense.

The clown grinned this time, large and sharp, showcasing bloodied teeth, before nodding vigorously. Clapping excitedly, he hunched down to gather up the pig remains and nodded at you, as though to say 'lead the way'.

Smiling in return, you turned and led him to your home.

As soon as your back faced him, your expression morphed into one of doubt and anxiety.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

That was some time ago. It was mid winter now, and Art - the odd clown that had spelled his name to you in blood on your window - was no where to be seen.

You hadn't seen him for two weeks, he often appeared when he wanted and left for days on end too.

You had both settled into an accord of sorts.

The clown was a maniac, yes, and had often tricked and teased and terrified you with knives and hammers, pretending to finally put an end to you only to stop millimeters from your face, laughing silently and slapping his knee dramatically.

You screamed each time, gripping your chest in terror but forcing a breathy laugh to escape you, shaking your head. "Got me again, Art. When will I ever learn?" You tutted, voice shaking and body trembling.

You knew it was only a matter of time before he killed you, surely. So, you did things to keep him happy.

Like offering your old, worn out barn as his work place to fix up his weapons or create new traps. It was dingy and damp, but Art didn't even mind. His mouth opened into a perfect 'o' shape, eyebrows high in surprise, pointing to himself and then to the barn.

"Yes," you had confirmed to him, "the barn is yours. Do what you like with it, I.." you had paused. Art sensed something was left out and cocked his head at you with a menacing smile, hand under his chin as though he was ready to listen to you spill a secret.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Art. Im happy to give you the barn, you do what you want in there and I won't ask questions, but in return I was wondering if now and again, when you're free to of course, if you could help me around the place?", you asked softly, sweetly, your round eyes staring up at him so innocently he often wondered if he should pinch your cheeks until the flesh tears off or flail you.

Maybe not yet. He liked having you around for now. You were sweet and entertaining, and cooked good meals.

Art tilted his head left and right in deep thought, eyes rolling up to the sky as though truly debating with himself, before his large hands suddenly slammed down onto your shoulders heavily, causing you to gasp aloud, eyes wide.

Art began to silently laugh, lifting a finger and thumb to roughly tug at your cheek, before nodding excitedly.

You sighed in relief. Well, you couldn't very well ask him to spare your life as a favour, so you supposed asking him to help you with chores was your only option.

In a way, you think he was amused by how ballsy you were. He was terrifying, after all.

Thinking back to the present day, you hadnt seen him for two weeks, which meant he was either out on a killing spree or recuperating after a nasty fight.

You've since gathered that this man, this thing, isn't really human. He eats because he enjoys it, but you've seen him go weeks without food. This thing you've allowed into your home was demonic, and its sick how fond of him youre growing.

Sighing, you felt fatigue catching up with you as you had spent the last few hours tending to the fields, animals, and other chores such as gathering wood and cutting them into pieces.

Mindlessly lost in thought, you bent down to pick up a log, putting it into place and heaving the axe up ready to cut it. Your arms were shaking; how long ago did you eat? Well, it was around 4pm now, and you've been busy since around 7am, so it's been far too long, and you were ridiculously sweaty even in the mild winters day.

You lifted the axe, elbows suffering and shaking, before huffing loudly and dropping it back down. You really needed a break but you also really needed to start getting this wood ready for the cold winter nights.

Determination taking over your features, you lifted it again, fatigue overwhelming you but to hell with it because you had things to do before nightfall. Inhaling deeply, you lifted it high, stumbling forward as you let the axe split the wood sloppily; it was very off mark, and if your father was here right now he'd make you do it again.

The axe embedded itself into the surface below, and with both hands you gripped the handle to try and wrench it out but to no avail.

Huffing agitatedly, you gritted your teeth and tried again.

The sound of a honk startled you, your entire body jumping and a yelp escaping your throat as you spund around with a hand held to your chest.

"Art!", your tone held accusation but you still laughed. "How long have you been standing there? Please dont tell me you witnessed my horrible attempt at cutting wood.."

Art shrugged, picking up the pathetic attempt at cutting the log in half and scrutinizing it. He shook his head and closed his eyes as though disappointed.

You flushed in embarrassment. "Yeah, that really was a sorry attempt..", you turned back to the axe, gripping it and tugging. It didn't budge.

Suddenly, a pale, gloved hand gripped the handle and ripped it out with ease. You blinked at him in shock, watching at how he slyly looked down at the axe in his hands and then at you, rolling his eyes as though to say 'have I got to do everything around here?'

For a speechless clown, he was sassy. And terrifying.

You smiled tiredly. "Thanks. I'm so hungry and sweaty and gross and ugh--", you shook your head, "ignore me. Are you hungry? I'll go and--"

Fingertips touched your lips to silence you, and then a finger shot into the air, telling you to wait. The clown eagerly knelt down to rummage through his bag of..mysteries.

He excitedly rubbed his hands together as he found what he was looking for, and delved in to grab it tightly.

The clown spun around to face you, item hidden in box, and closed his eyes dramatically, then stared at you pointedly.

"Oh, um..Close my eyes?", the clown nodded happily at you being able to understand.

Your pulse increased, fear gripping you. You wouldn't refuse him. Closing your eyes slowly, you held your hands out. "I-I trust you, Art. No funny games, okay? Please.", you pouted.

Art cocked his head at your pouting lips and shaking hands. He had that unexplainable urge to squeeze you tightly and also cut your lips off with a scissors. You were adorable, he'd admit that. He wondered if a day would ever come where you'd flutter your cute eyelashes at him and he'd grab a knife and burst your dazzling blue orbs.

Maybe one day, but not today.

It was only on rare occasion that you'd catch the sadistic killer of miles county choosing to not act with violence.

You were the only rare occasion.

Pushing those tempting thoughts away, Art held the box excitedly and tip toed over to you dramatically. He was eager for you to see his gift.

Firm hands gripped your own as a box was dropped into it, only a small box.

You smiled uncertainly, eyes closed, and felt the box with your hands. Art poked at your eyelids gently for you to open them.

The box was black. Tattered. You lifted the lid slowly.

A multitude of emotions filled you. You didn't know which ones to show. Art watched eagerly, excitedly, though you could still see the sharpness of his eyes.

The box was filled to the brim with Beatles. They were squirming and hurrying over one another in an ugly display, some spilling out onto your arms before falling on the floor. Luckily, you weren't terrified of insects.

Looking at Art, he began mimicking holding an imaginary box and shaking it hard, then pointed at you.

You shook the box hard, the Beatles scattering everywhere, and gazed into the box.

Your blood ran cold.

A decapitated fox head stared at you, eyeless and bloodied with its tongue cut out and shoved into one of its eye sockets. Beatles crawled throughout its skull.

"A..Fox."

Art nodded aggressively, pointing animatedly at your chickens cooing in their pen, then at the fox, then at himself.

"Oh! You killed the fox that has been hunting my hens?"

Art clapped silently and his eyes dazzled as though screaming 'bingo! Finally!', then pointing and laughing at your pale expression and wide eyes. His gruesome smile was held wide, cutting sharp, as he buckled over in silent laughter.

Your mouth quirked upwards in amusement. Well, he was certainly keeping his end of the bargain. The fox was a pest, after all, even if his method of killing was a little..unorthodox. Not that you'd ever complain.

You couldn't help but giggle at this absurd man. "Thank you, Art. I appreciate that. Now with my hens remaining alive and well, I can make you some more of those pancakes you like once they lay their eggs."

Arts mouth opened in surprise, eyebrows raised high. He tipped his hat in a gentlemanly fashion, nodding at you as though to say it's a job well done. You agreed that it was.

Putting the box down, you gripped the axe once more, ready to return it to the shed. "Well, I'm going to have a quick shower, then how about I make us some supper?"

Art wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, and heat lightly warmed your cheeks. Before you could reply, the axe was ripped from your hands and Art had already gotten to work with cutting some more wood. He did it flawlessly.

He shooed you away dramatically, wiggling his eyebrows one more time before chopping through the wood efficiently.

Conflicted in how easily he embarrassed you, you made your way tiredly to the bathroom. You really needed that shower.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You let the hot water wash away the stress of the day, eyes closed as you nourished an apple smelling conditioner through your hair.

You sighed, feeling ten times better already, muscles sore from the strenuous chores you barely managed to finish today.

Standing in the warm confinement of water and steam, you began to wonder if Art was still cutting wood. This led to thoughts about how bizarre it was having a murderer in your residence while you showered vulnerably. He didn't appear to want to kill you yet, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Wrapping a towel around your hair and body, you stared at your tired complexion in the mirror and frowned.

You really shouldn't be so comfortable with his ominous presence, but..

There was something quirky and charming about him, you guessed.

You soon froze at the sound of an alarm blaring.

You ran to the bathroom door, tearing it open. What was--

Was that your fire alarm blaring? But why? You had meat in your slow cooker, yes, but--

Panic surged through you as you darted out of your bathroom and bolted down the stairs. You didn't know how or why but you prayed that your kitchen was in tact.

Barreling through your living room and into the kitchen, you scrutinized the area, seeing no smoke, no fire, nothing.

Eyes wide, you ran to the slow cooker and switched it off. There wasn't even any smoke coming from it, how had your alarm gone off? Bending to check in your oven, you confirmed what you already knew - there was nothing in there.

Standing straight, hands on your hips in annoyance at that blaring alarm, you sighed aloud. Your towel remained upon your head, however loose hair had managed to escape and fall upon your shoulders from your erratic movements.

Glancing around desperately, Art was no where to be found. With his height, he could probably reach the alarm on your ceiling and deactivate it. You spent no time waiting for his possible arrival and grabbed a chair.

Lugging it over to the centre of the room, you gripped the top of it and shakily stood tall upon the chair. Reaching up high, you fiddled with the alarm, attempting to get a good grip to be able to remove it.

You huffed, making a sound of aggravation as your towel somehow remained firm around your figure, even if it was short. The water from the shower was cold on your body now and it only seemed to worsen your mood.

Finally managing to rip the damn thing from the ceiling, you removed the batteries and tossed it to the floor with a scowl. Stupid faulty alarm.

In a less than desirable mood, your hand gripped the chair to steady yourself. Before you could even put a foot on the floor, a honk sounded so close to you it had you yelping; you hadn't even sensed him let alone heard him.

Wide eyed, you stared down at the clown. His shoulder was practically brushing your outer thigh as you stood high. "Oh, Art, I didn't see you--"

A hand being thrust out to you interrupted you. He was offering his large hand to you, and although uncertain, you couldn't deny that he had a peculiar charm. Smiling, you gripped his hand with your own to steady yourself, lifting one leg to put on the floor.

Except you never did. You barely caught the malicious grin the clown gave you, eyes narrowed into slits and teeth bared as he lifted one foot backwards and kicked the chair out from under you.

The leg of the chair shattered from the force, splintering and bending as you began to topple to the floor. You screamed, eyes squeezed shut.

You thought you had whiplash at the way your hand was wrenched painfully towards his body, your figure pressed up against his as your head butted into his chest.

He had an arm around your waist, suspending your weight in the air against his body with no difficulty.

The clown remained frozen, grin still as wide and terrifying. Your feet barely brushed the floor. "Art!", you screeched, body shaking from adrenaline, hair towel fallen to the floor.

The clowns eyes snapped to yours disturbingly. Before you could berate him further, you were tossed upwards until dexterous hands rested at your shoulders and below your knees. He was holding you bridal style and it terrified you.

You cried out in shock, gripping his clown suit between white knuckles, bath towel beginning to slip ever so slightly. You felt a mixture of terror and embarrassment at being in the brutal arms of the county killer.

And the terror only increased tenfold as the clown removed his grip from supporting your shoulders for mere seconds, your body heading straight for the floor, before securing his arms around you again before you could make impact, shoulders moving in silent laughter.

You truly screamed that time, legs kicking out and arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. Your eyes squeezed shut, towel slipping even more; it mortified you.

"Oh my goodness, Art, you terrified me! And I bet it was you that set off my alarm?", you accused in a high pitched, shaky tone, grasping him incredibly tight as you felt his fingers teasingly loosen just to scare you.

Art nodded vigorously, proud and excited that he had been caught, and snapped his head down at you. His grin of sinister glee slowly morphed into a knowing, filthy smirk.

You blinked up at him vulnerably, wide and glassy eyed, rigid in his arms, before realising that oh my God, you were in a towel this entire time, a short towel that surely moved during the commotion--

He must have noticed the sudden panic in your eyes, for his lecherous smirk stretched terrifyingly, eyes narrowed.

Surprisingly pervertedly, Art glanced down at your body swiftly. Once, twice. An indication that you should probably take a look. His eyebrows wiggled, and without needing to look, your cheeks reddened, lips parted in shock.

Head snapping down at yourself, a flush spread from your neck to your cheeks. The towel had dropped so low your breasts were threatening to spill out obscenely. It didn't help that you were of ample size.

And although everything else vital was covered, the way your upper thigh was exposed had you squirming desperately to try and make some distance.

"Ah!", you cried, "my towel! Put me down!" You demanded helplessly, overcome by embarrassment as Art snickered silently at your need to protect your intimates.

Art dropped the arm holding your legs, letting them crash upon the floor painfully. The sudden downward motion had you squealing, gripping him hard. You were grateful that he supported your upper body, you supposed.

The way your body dropped had your towel falling fully for a split second before you ripped it back up to cover your modesty.

You tore yourself away from him - he let you - and stared at him with wide eyes, chest panting in fear and fluttering peculiarly.

Your hands shook as you gripped your towel, knees knocking together, withering under the intense stare of the clown as he foregone his usual dramatic, knee slapping laugh and instead almost seemed to chuckle in amusement, brows as low as they could go, head tilting in fascination at your half naked state.

He expected anger, frustration, undeniable fear at his actions towards you. What intrigued him was the way your round cheeks flared crimson and how your eyes, usually relatively confident when regarding him, fluttered everywhere but him.

Yes, he decided, head tilting left and right slowly, deciphering. You seemed incredibly flustered.

He felt lust, often. For blood, violence, but rarely sexually. Pain was sweeter than pleasure, he thought, but regarding you now, languidly staring at you from head to toe, an idea struck his mind...

An idea you couldn't decipher, but the way his eyes lit up and his eyebrows rose pleasantly sent heat flaring through you.

You didn't allow it to consume you any further as you darted up the stairs and into your room.

On the way past him, you saw his shoulders moving in a silent, mean laughter.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

That had been two days ago. Since then, you continued on as normal..

Or as normal as can be.

Art remained busy in the old barn, the sounds of hammering and God knows what else permeating the quiet air at all hours of the day, and oftentimes there would be silence; He had left.

It had been a full day and a half since you last took sight of him. It was unusual how domesticated you felt, preparing enough food for two with a little extra leftover, keeping only the dark towels in the bathroom from when he no doubt came strolling in covered in blood and took a shower.

You came to notice he was meticulously clean about things he deemed worthy, such as his clown suit and himself. He loved to bathe in his victims blood, yes, but after a fun days work, you often found him spotless. Well, apart from his teeth. Bizarrely, he didn't utterly stink, and you come to the conclusion that he chose his terrifying mouth to look that way on purpose.

That was good. You appreciated that even if he didn't necessarily do it for you.

The only thing you had gently persuaded him on was allowing you to at least dry his clown suit before putting it on. With a roll of his eyes, he allowed it.

There were very few things he allowed genuinely, and you seemed to believe he had grown accustomed to your gentle naggings of 'Art, please don't touch that with blood on your hands', or 'There was no need to trail bloody footprints all over my kitchen'

You never demanded. That probably helped. Of course he had days where he'd grin mischievously and smear blood across your mirrors and door handles, knowing you'd have to touch it and clean it.

You could live with that. Thankfully, after a night of killing, he was reasonably tame, eating whatever food you kept in your cupboards with a calm expression.

That wasn't to say that he wasn't unpredictable. He could snap on times and come at you with a knife, chasing you around the kitchen as you screeched and whined for him to stop, all the while watching him laugh with glee.

And on real scary nights when he seemed bored, well..

Anything could happen then. Even still, Art remained tame as of yet in comparison to the things he is capable of. He clearly saw a need in you, and repaid your generous cooking, cleaning and fixing up his costume for him with keeping you alive and leaving you mostly unharmed.

A cut here or there, yeah, and definitely a bruise but you were alive and well.

The only real affect he had on you was terror, he did enjoy popping up randomly in the dark when you had got up for a glass of water, hand roughly pushed over your mouth as your screams muffled into his hand before realising who had caught you.

Or the times you'd check on him in the old barn, just to see if he was around for dinner, calling his name out. Venturing in, you'd freeze as the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the entire area, only for the sound of a flame thrower igniting near you making you scream and cover your mouth in terror.

Each time you'd ramble something like 'Art, stop it! I-Im making beef for dinner and I just wanted to check that you wanted some!'

The clown would tug on your cheeks with both hands, patting your head as though to say 'how adorable are you?' before pushing you surprisingly gently towards the door and shooing you away.

You'd run back to the house with your chest beating so loudly you could hear it in your ears.

Presently, you were wearing a cute brown dress, tights covering your legs as you cleaned around the place. Loving the winter, you brought out your cosy candles and fairy lights, loving the gentle glow as the nights grew longer and the sun faded earlier. It wasn't quite time to decorate for Christmas yet, so this will do.

In fact, having a little break from the clown had allowed you to really tidy everything up, get your chores done, see to the animals and bake some brownies in the oven.

All in all you felt refreshed and well, truly in your element. It allowed you to push.. peculiar thoughts of Art from your mind.

Time carried on, and the brownies were cooling on the baking tray as you sat comfortably on your settee, a white blanket decorated in pumpkins covering you. You loved Halloween, too.

Dropping off to sleep, your mind felt at peace until a muffled sound was heard from outside. Lifting your head, you didn't react as you awaited Art to barge in at any moment, only..nothing.

Sitting up, you waited silently, hearing that muffling once again.

You frowned. Art was a master of silence, if he didn't want you to even hear the rustling of his bag, you wouldn't.

So why did you hear leaves crunching loudly, and..

Oh.

That wasn't Art.

You could hear voices mumbling now, close to your window, though unintelligible. You wondered who it could be. You had no known close relatives, and no friends, really.

Not close enough to appear unannounced on a late Friday evening, anyway.

Living in the middle of no where, you learned to be cautious of such sounds. You had no neighbours, and hardly anyone ever passed your cottage. Those that did tended to knock politely, not skirt around your perimeter sneakily.

Aside from Art; he's different.

Standing swiftly, you opened a drawer, gripping a handgun. You could never be too careful out here all alone, and you doubted it would go down easy if you stood with your shotgun aimed at them.

Handgun it is. Hiding it furtively, you stepped outside with confidence.

The sight of two men dressed head to toe in black greeted you, peeking through your curtains.

"Can I help you?", you began politely, causing them to bolt upright and spin around to face you. You couldn't see their faces.

They weren't amicable strangers, that was for certain.

"That truck yours?", the tallest indicated with a nod of his head.

"It is."

"You, uh..you live alone?"

You smiled.

"I do."

The two men sprung into action. "You do, do you? Be a good girl and chuck me the keys."

"Why would I ever do that?" You remained calm, pulse elevating, adrenaline begining to grow.

"Why?", the other repeated with a scoff, and swiftly pulled a knife out from his pocket, "because I want to see your round ass walk away like a good bitch, so go grab those fucking keys before I cut your face off."

Talk about overboard.

Nodding politely, you backstepped. "I understand. I don't want any trouble, give me one moment, please."

You backstepped further into your house, keeping the door open.

As you did, you heard one of the men hiss 'im not a fucking murderer, let's just get the truck and fucking go!'

You had a few options here.

You could run, hide, call the police.

You shook your head and steeled your nerves. Hell no. This was your damn property.

The two men looked around cautiously, impatient. "Where the fuck is she? We should've gone in with her."

"She's terrified, bitch probably can't find the keys."

They heard the sound of a gun cocking. Loudly.

Turning back to the door, you supposed they never thought to see a shotgun aiming directly at them. You could see their eyes widen behind a black robber mask.

"Woah, hey, keep the fucking keys--", one began, hands in the air, knife dropped to the floor.

You remember holding this very shotgun the night you met Art. You smartly lowered it, knowing true evil and terror when you saw it.

But these two? They had nothing on Art. Just average men, trying hard to terrify a woman. A nasty smirk broke out on your face, one of anger and satisfaction.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen. You're going to get the fuck off my property before I blow a hole in your chest. How's that sound?"

The scared one nodded vigorously, hands jittering as he backstepped, ready to bolt. The other, however..

"You wouldn't do that. You don't have it in you.", the other tried calling your bluff, taking a leap forward. It started you, but you remained strong.

"Wouldn't I? Out here in the middle of no where, who'd ever come looking for you?"

The man shrugged. "You might be right, but whose going to look for you?"

Before you could respond a hand grabbed from behind, reaching out and gripping the barrel of your shotgun and forcing it to the sky.

You instinctively pulled the trigger, sound blasting through the forest loudly causing birds to flutter away.

How the hell did he get in the house?

The assailant was stronger than you, tearing the weapon to the floor before gripping you by the hair roughly.

You grunted in pain, hands frantically searching for the handgun on your person as the man at the bottom of your steps began coming at you too.

You managed to shoot him in the thigh, hearing him cry out and collapse.

The scared one took off in a sprint, never turning back.

The aggressive one currently ripping strands of hair from the root wrestled you to the floor after shooting his friend, boot pressing firmly on the hand that held the gun and kicking it away.

He got on top of you and held you down as you struggled and fought against his hold, head reeling to the side as he back handed you, hard.

Furniture and anything close by moved and was tossed over as you fought back, unwilling to let him pin your hands to the floor, punching a fist into his groin to get him to crumple slightly so you could lug him off with all your might.

You scrambled to your feet and made a dash to the door, barely getting halfway before a strong body wrestled you back to the floor, your hands aching from the wall as he ripped your dress from the back to keep a hold on you.

You continued scrambling ahead, reaching out for anything, hands gripping the large sewing needle you had lost some time ago and turning to stab it into his cheek.

The man hissed, face turned into an ugly snarl as he staggered back in pain, holding the wound.

You up and ran, panting and panicking as you frantically made it outside.

The man didn't let up, he ruthlessly grabbed your hair causing you to cry out and slapped you so hard across the face you saw stars.

Blood dripped from your mouth as you stumbled back, held upright by the man's grip on you.

He grabbed your cheeks hard, squeezing the blood from your mouth, snarling. "Pretty thing, I'm going to put you in your fucking place--"

You cried out a sharp 'no!', kicking him between the legs and pushing him away.

You both fought tooth and nail for a while, you managing to run a short distance before being dragged back and hit even harder in the face.

This time you gasped helplessly for breath, blood spurting out of your nose and down your mouth.

What scared you the most was a hand gripping your thighs and trying to spread them.

"I'm going to fuck you before I kill you, bitch. And it's going to hurt." The man seethed the ugly promise, tearing your dress up high and grabbing your tights to rip a hole in then.

You cried out, kicking him in the jaw but to no avail. Without any weapons you had no chance in winning against his strength.

You saw an opening as he stumbled back at your kick and bolted it as fast as you could towards the trees. You knew this land well, so you knew where to hide.

Frightful and shaking, tears littered your cheeks as you heard the sound of the man getting to his feet to chase after you.

You gasped painfully, unable to breathe, and all but screamed bloody murder as you ran directly into a chest.

An arm wrapped around your struggling body, a hand smothering your scream as you fought and cried out desperately against another assailant. This one was like a brick wall, unmovable to your attempted attacks, even if he himself wasn't attacking you.

Two hands gripped your shoulders and shook you hard, causing you to look up at his face in terror only to pause, wide eyed.

That familiar, monochromatic clown tilted his head down at you in a thoughtful frown, mild confusion pooling in his irises as he studied you from head to toe, moving a gloved finger to wipe at the blood trickling down your chin.

"Art!", you cried, chest heaving up and down, "Theres--These men--attacked me and--and tried to-to--"

You could barely get your words out, watching as Art cocked a surprised eyebrow up and attempted to decipher your rambled sentences.

He didn't really need to. Upon further inspection, he could see the bruising of your face, the very blatant tear of your tights which showed a lot of skin, and how your dress had been ripped.

He knew something was off when he heard the sound of gunshots. He knew you had guns, but for you to use one meant something was amiss. Something compelled him to come and look, dropping the dead body he had been mutilating in the woods, eager and..somewhat impatient, to get to you.

That was a foreign feeling, and now having actually studied your shaking hands that gripped his costume and the amount of blood that covered your face as tears dribbled down fatly, staring up at him in utter relief, he was unused to such an expression, and truly didnt mind it coming from you.

Gazing outwards at the forest, an intense ire began to build in him. You weren't going to die today, he doubted you ever would because you were his, and only his.

Having finally made a decision, Art grinned cruelly, fingers eager and twitching excitedly to meet this so called attacker.

Letting his arms drop from you, he took a step forward to make his way to the house, stopping as you gripped his arm in fear.

"W-wait, please don't leave me--"

Art held up a hand calmly, shushing you, and went through his black bag, retrieving a hammer. He patted your head, as though telling you not to worry, and made his way towards your home. He walked excitedly with a bounce in his step.

You knew what that meant.

You were so happy to see him, as fucked up as that is, but he clearly made the decision to protect you. You felt relief and fondness, sitting against a tree with your knees up to your chest, waiting.

You wanted them dead, truth be told, but may God have mercy on them for what Art is about to do..

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You remembered hearing gut wrenching screams and splatters of vomit as various tools were used to maim the trespassers.

You remember your body moving on auto pilot as you entered your home, Art briefly stopping his flaying of the man who threatened assault on you, to lift a hand and wave at you, fingers dancing playfully.

You waved back slowly, trudging up the steps and into your home where your living room was a mess from the commotion. There were patches of your blood on the floor, a lamp upturned and glass shattered messily.

Body and mind exhausted, you laid down on the settee and fell asleep dreamlessly. You didn't even awaken to the sounds of a chainsaw and guttural screaming.

You don't know how long you slept for. You were in and out of consciousness for a while, waking up to your ribs aching from the attack, or your lips burning from being split, the blood drying on them and irritating them.

You were still a mess, hair dishevelled and face bruised, dried blood flaking off your face and your clothes in almost tatters.

Your face was still puffy from crying, eyes opening slowly and slightly bloodshot. Moaning weakly, you stretched your legs out and hissed as your ripped tights dug into a deep cut in your thigh.

The TV was on. You barely registered the comforting hum of some early Christmas film that was on, volume low and tranquil.

Slowly standing, you made your way to the kitchen. Your chest fluttered at the sight of Art, sitting calmly at the table with a plate of sweet treats you had in the cupboards, including biscuits and cake, and what looked to be a cup of hot chocolate.

He was eating them very civilised, too. You were proud of that. It wasn't like he needed to eat, at least you thought, but he really did enjoy sweet food. Same as you.

Clad in a surprisingly clean clown suit, he waved at you, his hands stained red. He must have cleaned himself up for the most part, and..looking around, you sighted a mop bucket, so he must've really made a mess and cleaned up after him.

That was oddly..sweet. It made you smile.

"I must have been asleep a while." You gathered aloud, taking a seat at the table across from him.

The clown shrugged, held up a hand with 4 fingers. So you slept for about 4 hours then.

You rubbed your eyes, exhausted. The clown tilted his head at you slowly, frowning softly in thought with a finger to his chin.

"Yeah, I'm a mess. I can't believe those guys." You huffed, glaring down at yourself. Your anger spiked at the sight of your attire.

"He ruined my favourite fucking dress!" You exclaimed, arms folding frustratedly. You were a mixture of huffs and mutters as the clown cocked a calm eyebrow - how had you both switched places? - and listened to you curse and swear which he had never heard before.

It made him chuckle silently, head in hand as he watched you. Feeling eyes on you, your frown softened. "Im sorry, I'm not myself. I thought I had it all under control when I saw the two of them."

Your gaze dropped lower to the floor, reminiscing. "I didn't really notice the third. I have no idea how he got in." You almost whispered defeatedly, eyes misted and glassy as you remembered the way that man treated you and touched you.

You suddenly felt incredibly dirty. What if you hadn't managed to outrun him? He was about to violate you. And what if Art had never showed up? He'd--

Your thoughts draw to a pause as Art taps your hand gently, points to himself and does a stabbing motion, then points outside.

It made your lips quirk. "Their dead?"

Art nodded excitedly, grinning wide as his fingers tickle your hand. You begin to giggle, and grip onto his hand. "I'm glad you turned up. I mean, I managed to fight him off barely, but imagine if..."

You froze, eyes staring at your intertwined hands, and shook your head. "Assholes."

Art suddenly lit up like a lightbulb, face making one of surprise as he held a hand up to wait. Comically running out of the room, you awaited his return as he came near you with one of the robbers mask. Something was wrapped inside it.

Art got down on one knee and presented it to you with arms outstretched, wiggling his eyebrows, and you giggled again. Gripping the fabric, you found it soaked with blood. Opening it, a human heart stared back at you. It was relatively fresh.

You blinked slowly, not at all feeling usual feelings of repulsion and fear. Instead you felt..warm. The symbolic meaning of presenting you with the heart of your attacker wasn't lost on you, and as fucked up as it was, you blushed faintly.

"I.."

You smiled incredibly gently, Art thought. It made him happy to see your face finally light up after those filthy, rotten humans dared to touch what was his.

"I'm incredibly grateful for that. Thank you, Art. Who'd have thought you'd make such a great protector?" You winked playfully, laughing when he returned it dramatically with a nod.

"Oh! I almost forgot!", you rose and grabbed a nearby dish. "I made brownies!", you pouted at the fact that they weren't warm and delicious anymore, and Art thought that if you kept acting so cute he'd have to hurt you. In a good way, of course. He was still confused about that.

Art revealed one of his rare smiles, lacking it's usual slyness or sinisterness, and grabbed a brownie delightedly. It made you beam.

There you both sat, his hands bloodied and your face bruised with a heart sitting between you both as you shared the brownies.

There was an undeniable connection, and as you cuddled up in your blankets after a fresh shower, staring up at the ceiling, you thought about that.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The dynamic had shifted. Art could still be sly and mean in his ways of scaring you, but he certainly toned it down. He seemed to want to hear your laughter more, launching tickle attacks on you until you were a squealing mess on the settee, wriggling and fighting against his grip as tears of laughter wet your cheeks.

"Please!", you squealed, "no more! You win!", you'd shriek, body contorting until his fingers finally stopped and he stared down at you smugly.

For a moment, you both stared in silence, you catching your breath and him observant as ever.

With a burst of excited energy, you fled his slack grip and bolted to the other side of the living room, jumping in your spot. "Just kidding! I got away so I won!" You giggled ecstatically, watching as the clown slowly stood to his tall height.

Your laughter died down, nervous excitement replacing it. He held a glint in his eye that could only mean trouble. Art tilted his head dramatically, finger to his lips as though saying 'Oh, you've won, have you?'

You shook your head in panic, hands held up in surrender. "i-i didn't mean that! Honestly!"

Art mimiced your panicked face, holding his hands up in surrender as he jumped towards you. You jolted, stumbling back as an uncertain laughter bubbled up.

"Believe me, I know I could never outrun you..", you glanced towards the kitchen door, plotting.

Art lifted a hand to his chin, silently humming in thought, before holding up a hand with fingers spread wide.

He dropped a finger, holding up 4.

Then 3.

"Wait--wait why are you counting?!"

Art froze, grin held wide as he remained unmoving. You shifted nervously, about to say something before Art suddenly came to life again and darted towards you.

You screamed and bolted away, running instead to the stairs that were closer and hoping to make it to your room.

You did, and as you ran through it and turned to slam the door shut, Art was already in the doorway and wrapping his arms around you as you shrieked and cried out apologies for challenging him.

Art showed you no mercy, throwing you to the bed and holding you down with ease as he assaulted your ribs again with his fingers.

He laughed silently at your torture, gleeful and delighted at your non stop screaming and laughing.

"Art! Wait! I can't take it anymore!--" you wheezed, grabbing his wrists and pushing as hard as you could.

He didn't even budge. He was like a stone wall. Art paused, cocking his head down at your futile efforts and back up to your terrified face.

You froze, realising that you just challenged him again.

With a flash of black and white, Art jumped atop you, straddling your hips as he held your wrists down with one of his hands, watching you squirm and whine.

He chuckled evilly, silently, eyebrows low and grin spreading wide.

But there was that same look from the other day again. Peering down at you, he watched you analyse the position you were in, eyes fluttering up to his face in shock as a flush tainted your pretty skin.

Art knew that look. He was very meticulous when it came to the human body and the emotions it can feel.

You were panting, chest fluttering and warmth radiating off of you as Art smirked down at you knowingly. He raised his eyebrows, hand to mouth in shock as though to say 'Are those dirty thoughts in your head?'

Although silent, it was as though you knew that he knew what you were thinking. You felt dazed, so red and undeniably enjoying the vision of him above you, holding you down.

There was no denying the guilty thoughts you had had of him in the privacy of your bedroom at night, faceless men turning into monochromatic, super natural clowns each time you reached your peak.

You felt vile at first. But after his protection against those men the other day, your feelings definitely shifted, and since then you couldn't stop your thoughts from trailing to him..

The sexual ones, too. The private ones where you thought about pale, strong hands holding your head down against the bed as you were taken from behind.

The ones where your head was wrenched back by an iron fist in your hair, too euphoric to the point that you could only babble words.

You knew he could take you there. And his incessant flirting in real life, where he'd wiggle his eyebrows at you if you passed in a towel or if you bent over, or where he'd stand teasingly in your way of a doorway, forcing you to squeeze past him as he smirks and winks. Those things made the thoughts all the stronger, and at times you wondered if he knew what you were going to do once you got back to your room.

Sometimes, the way he smirked and waved at you with a wiggle of his fingertips just after you finished getting yourself off made you wonder. He must've known, this freakish demonic man.

The memories brought heat spreading down to your neck, your tongue tied as you struggled to break the tension. You struggled to get a word out, eyes fluttering in nervous anticipation. It was hard not to romanticise this charming clown.

"I--"

The clown leaned down close, void eyes staring into yours that were so full of emotion, raw and naked. His strong hand that was capable of such violence began tracing your jawline delicately, as though you were porcelain.

You inhaled shakily, feeling the digits drop to your neck, pressing against your fluttering, rapid pulse.

From anyone else, that would feel uncomfortable. But Art doing that felt so suffocatingly intimate you didn't know how to react, eyebrows drawn together in mild confusion at your feelings.

The way Art smirked made you realise he knew exactly what he was doing. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he gripped the glove with his teeth and tugged it off, freeing his pale, veiny hand and bringing it to your cheek, thumb tenderly rubbing the area.

You felt like your head was going to burst from how red you were. You think its because the utter shock at having Art act in a way that wholly juxtaposes him and touch you delicately made you feel so exquisitely special that you didn't know how to register it.

How can a mere innocent touch melt you so much?

His fingers traced the lines and curves of your face in fascination. There was no doubt a morbidity to his thoughts, but there was also mild, genuine adoration in his lifeless eyes.

Your pulse quickened, butterflies dancing in your belly at the thumb that now traced your plush lips. Body reacting faster than your thoughts, your tongue wet the tip of his thumb.

A glint began to shine in his eyes, ferocious and wanting. He tilted his head down at you, unsmiling but not in a scary way; he appeared quite tranquil, and something else.

His thumb dipped into your mouth slightly, experimentally, and he was pleased at the way you wholly accepted him in, swirling your tongue intimately around his digit.

Your eyelids drooped, overcome by this display of raw connection, your lips glistening as he slowly retrieved his thumb, giving your lips one final stroke before gliding his hand down your neck again, tickling the skin with gentle fingertips before moving down to your collarbone.

You held your breath, biting your lip as the usually menacing clown above you glided further down, and down, until his hand brushed the outline of your breast, barely skimming across your nipple.

You inhaled sharply, how were you this sensitive? You could feel heat pooling between your thighs already.

Art tilted his head, examining the large, soft globes that hid beneath your clothes. Eyes flickering up at you, Art smirked before gripping the front of your shirt and tearing it open with ease.

You gasped aloud, eyes wide and mouth agape as your breasts bounced free, nipples hard and begging for attention.

You flushed so deeply red that your face began resonating heat. You were so embarrassed at being half naked in front of him, and you didn't know why. Maybe it was because of the teasing way he winked appreciatively, removing the other glove from his hand swiftly before grazing your breasts barely, hands gripping handfuls of them boldly soon after.

His thumbs skimmed over your pebbled nipples, watching your head loll back against the pillow as you inhaled and exhaled shakily. Bolts of arousal were shooting to the junction of your thighs every time his calloused thumbs teased your perk nipples.

Art was entranced by your visible display of arousal, so sensitive and so wanting; he had never felt this way about a person. Even he knew he was being unnaturally kind, inducing you with pleasure that was sure to have you tingling.

Art never did things unless he wanted to. He didn't want to hurt you. No, his dominance and roughness that he could just tell you craved would come later. For now, he wanted you wet and yearning.

He was proficient in knowing how to hurt the human body, which means he's acutely aware of how to pleasure it; that simply came hand in hand.

And, glancing down at you, having been brought from his thoughts by your breathy exhale, he could tell that what he was doing was incredibly pleasurable. You squirmed, legs widening and relaxing unconsciously below him, your pretty green skirt riding up your thighs.

"Art-", you whined in a whisper, nerve endings alight and tingling, begging to be touched.

Art flashed a smile, head tilting once more as though wondering what to do with you. He could leave you here, undeniably wet and sticky and yearning, begging sweetly, or he could indulge, nudge your pretty thighs apart and fuck you like you've wanted him to for a while now.

You didn't hide it well, especially after touching yourself mere minutes before seeing him, pupils blown wide, hair tousled and sweaty, legs lightly shaking. You should probably stop leaving your wet, soft underwear on your bedroom floor too. That's a big give away, if you didn't already know.

The sarcastic thought had him grinning, and after moving his head back and forth in thought, weighing out his options, he flicked his thumbs over your nipples a few more times, watching you react immediately and arch your back towards his hands.

"Ah-", you gasped, shuddering, gnawing at your lip with hooded eyes.

Art rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, then shrugged lightly to himself. He wasn't necessarily a sexual creature, but he was still in the body of a man. Tweaking your nipples teasingly, Art nodded.

He wanted to fuck you, hard.

But he wanted to tease you first.

Arts eyes dropped to the way your legs had spread for him, dark underwear on display from the way your skirt had ridden up your thighs.

Trailing a hand down your waist and to your hips, Art studied you as his hand moved lower, teasing your inner thighs, pinching the fatty flesh there before pressing two fingers against your apex.

You reacted immediately, shuddering a breath in and out as your legs spread fully, bent at the knee.

Pale fingers traced your soft, wet lips through your underwear, tickling from where your hole would be and up towards your pulsating clit, circling the bud with light pressure.

You moaned quietly, legs squirming slightly as you yearned for a direct touch, his teasing becoming relentless. Your hands balled into fists as white hot tingling sensations barreled through your stomach and your clit, demanding to be touched but to no avail.

Art knew this, and pressed two fingers firmly against your clit, circling.

"Oh--yes--", you whined, looking fucked out with your head lolled back when Art had barely done anything. He wondered how you'd react to the plans he had for you later if this is how you were after a few strokes.

His teasing continued, trailing down to your hole and dipping in slightly, soaking your underwear, before running his finger to the edge of the useless garment and hooking two fingers in, tearing it apart.

This time, Art used both hands to grip your thighs, spreading them far. He studied your pink, exposed slit with incredible interest. The mess of wetness was excessive, coating the length of your sex, your inner thighs and gliding down to your tight rim.

You squirmed in his hands at his staring, to which he tightened his grip, making you shudder.

"Art..", you whined

His eyes snapped up to yours expectantly.

"Please, I--", you gasped at his fingers tracing maddeningly around your labia, refusing to touch you directly. "Please touch me. Please, I--..I need it so bad.", tears filled your eyes with frustration, "so fucking bad, you have no idea.."

But Art did know. He's always known, and just to prove his point he searched for something in his pockets, retreaving it and dangling it in front of your face.

You froze. It was your used underwear from yesterday, when you masturbated before a shower, throwing the garment to the floor. You thought you had imagined throwing it to the floor, because upon coming back to the bedroom, it was gone.

You looked mortified, hands covering your face. "You've known all along?" You whined, unable to face his grin. You felt humiliation creep up your chest at being caught red handed, biting your lip hard to ground yourself. Pathetic tears threatened to fall in frustration.

You gasped as two hands gripped your own and pinned them above your head, using one to keep them there while the other hand wagged it's finger back and fore, Art shaking his head and tutting silently.

You were forced to face his smug, teasing stare, your own face pouting. Art lifted two fingers, wiggled them, before bringing them to your lips.

You accepted, swirling your tongue around them, before they were retrieved swiftly. Wiggling them again, Art made a show of demonstrating just what he was about to do to you to bring that smile back.

Winking in a way that had you melting in a puddle of embarrassment, Art pressed two fingers to your wet entrance, grinning before gliding them into your wanton hole.

Your reaction was instantaneous, a keening 'oh!' torn from your throat, back arching as you squirmed beneath the hand that pinned you down.

Art began to thrust his fingers deeply, pulling out to the tip before delving back in, watching you writhe and gasp. You were desperate for more, hips lifting higher.

Art pulled his fingers out of you, showing the wet lubrication that coated them, scissoring them apart to watch the way it attached his fingers with stringy gooeyness.

You released a frustrated whine this time, fighting beneath his one hand. "No, no don't pull them out, please--" you pouted pathetically, desperately.

Art wanted to torment you more, but his desire to see you screaming in pleasure outweighed that at the moment. He wanted to break you.

Shrugging innocently as though to say 'well, you asked for it', Arts two fingers sunk into you to the knuckle, pumping in and out firmly and roughly, curling rhythmically against that spongy area he knew would have you seeing stars.

"Oh--Oh!", you cried, hips tilted up into his assault, the lewd sound of your wet hole permeating the air as his fingers went in and out, in and out, restlessly and roughly, giving you exactly what you wanted.

Art smirked darkly, increasing the pace rapidly, so fast he had to hold your kicking legs down as he brought you too much pleasure, too much torment in the sweetest way he could give.

You cried out loudly now, unable to hold your voice back, body convulsing lightly as your peak approached.

"A-Art, Oh, Ohh--" you moaned, panting and thrashing back and fore as his fingers forced an orgasm out of you, intense and sudden, squirting down his wrist and soaking your bed.

You gasped for air, legs falling slack as your mind felt like it was floating.

You didn't have any time to think as Art gripped your hips tightly, flipping you over effortlessly and pulling your ass into the air. He smoothed the skin gently, before giving it a slap, watching you jolt.

You were soaked, legs quivering as you braced yourself. Your knees knocked together, staring back at him desperately.

You had dreamed of this for some time, you thought, gnawing at your lip anxiously. Judging by the sudden, bare feel of his hard cock against your folds, you knew you were in for a ride; he felt huge.

He was definitely thick, but even more than that is that he was incredible in length. He wasn't an ordinary man, so you shouldn't be surprised, but a tingle of fear and excitement gnaws through you all the same.

"W-will that fit?", you whispered in awe, salivating, and Art merely shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows as though to say 'ill make it fit', before putting a hand on your head and pushing your face into the bed.

You felt arousal course through you at his actions, being pinned down and bared for him to use. You pushed your round ass into him as much as you could, desperate and whorish, feeling his body judder with silent laughter.

He teased you at first, pushing the tip in, then retrieving, only to push just a little bit more in, and then retrieving again.

You huffed, unable to hide your frustration, but choked on it as Art slowly pulled out, then slid all the way in to the hilt.

You cried out loudly, hands balled into fists in your blanket, head pushed into the bed hard as Art gave you no time to adjust and began fucking you.

Your insides were on fire, pain and pleasure at his large intrusion mixing together, pulling moan after moan out of you. You could barely breathe, struggling to say his name as Art now gripped both of your hips and bred you.

A hand was lifted from you before coming down hard on your jiggling flesh, one stroke after another, getting harder and harder until you were writhing and whining.

He didn't stop, testing just how far he could go, switching to the other cheek when he felt your screams were getting particularly painful.

The stinging was unbearable, but it made you so wet, so pliant for him to absolutely manhandle you into the bed, gripping a fistful of your hair before he ravaged you just the way you wanted.

You were already a babbling mess, cock drunk when Art had hardly done anything. He rolled his eyes at you, though he was definitely amused at the unintelligible song you sang for him, something about his large cock and something else about breeding you.

You filthy girl.

Arts hand tangled rougher into your locks, before he gripped it hard and wrenched your head back, spine arching.

Your whines increased, becoming incredibly high pitch and feminine for him as he forced your head back.

Your neck was burning, but you loved this feeling, having a firm hand tug your hair back and an incredible, curved dick hit your insides just right.

The way he fucked you hard made you want to pretend to be bratty in the future, just so he could put you in your place. In fact, maybe one day when you're feeling particularly moody or low, you could get him to fuck it out of you, sweeten you up. The thought of being forced to take him deep as he fucked the brattiness out of you had you sopping, thighs drenched and shaking and barely standing.

"Ahh--Art, it feels so-", you moaned brokenly, thighs collapsing as the demon above you took to forcing your face back into the bed, other hand forcing your wrists above your head.

Having your thighs together now made his cock feel utterly massive, forcing the air out of you as he glided in between your plush cheeks, invading your sodden hole.

It made you feral.

"Oh my God oh my God--", you cried weakly, sobbing. Tears rolled down your cheeks in over stimulation, and Art leaned his body over yours, pushing you into the bed as he used one hand to smother your mouth, hooking his fingers into it.

You babbled, sucking his fingers desperately as you drooled down his wrist and your chin.

His fingers stuffed your mouth, thick length now ramming into you harder. You could barely hold your head up anymore, resting weakly against his wrist as you cried and whimpered, mascara blackening your eyes and cheeks messily.

Suddenly your hips were gripped and your body was forced onto it's back. You whined at the loss of him inside you, legs wrapping obscenely around his trim waist, needing more.

"Fuck me, please fuck me-", you breathed, head lolling back as fat tears burned your eyes, soaking your cheeks. Your lips were formed into a frustrated pout, fists clenched as though you were about to have a tantrum unless his dick resumed fucking you.

Art grinned truly maniacally down at you, gleeful and amused at your cries. It was a stunning sight, seeing your usual reserved self acting like such a slut.

He pouted right back at you, holding two fists up to his eyes and rotating them back and forth to impersonate dramatic crying. He was mocking you cruelly, laughing at your fucked out expression.

Forcing his fingers into your mouth again, Art pushed them down your throat, watching your eyes widen as you gagged and choked. Saliva pooled in your mouth excessively, and he scooped it out with both fingers to smear it messily over your cheeks and down your chin, laughing silently and pointing.

"No, please stop mocking me..", you whimpered quietly, lips wobbling as you pleaded at him with your big eyes. Your hips bucked desperately, thighs sticky and warm.

Art dropped his grin and rolled his eyes at your antics. You really wanted him to fuck you? Sure.

A malicious glint lit up his eyes, tenderly wiping the black tears staining your cheeks from your makeup.

Before you could blink, a strong hand was wrapped around your throat roughly, and a moment later his hot cock was pummeling into you mercilessly.

You couldn't even scream, sounds trapped in your throat and escaping in high pitched exhales, your head falling back against the bed as he strangled you.

It terrified you, but as your breathing became less and your head became clouded, a sudden, indescribable pleasure ripped through you so powerfully your eyes rolled back into your head, drool openly gliding down your cheek.

Your body felt weak and unresponsive, unable to even grip at his wrists for some reprieve, but the pleasure..

The fucking pleasure was mind numbing.

Your eyes drooped, face turning almost purple as he fucked you so deep you felt sick.

You couldn't gasp anymore, weak breaths barely getting past the brutal grip on your throat.

You were delirious now, feeling in a dream like state, ecstasy exploding behind your eyes and lighting your nerves on such a burning fire. You felt like your soul was ripped out of your mortal shell, experiencing the biggest high of your entire life.

Art cackled madly, silently, a sick adoration twisting in his eyes at the way your consciousness began to slip. He held your neck dangerously tight, tighter than he planned but judging by the way your hot, wet pussy gripped at him, he knew you loved it.

The sounds of your joining bodies was obscene and lewd, squelching and loud as his cock forced your lubrication out of your body.

Art gritted his teeth at the morbidly stunning view of you drooling excessive saliva, tears soaking his hands and mascara clumping your eyelashes, your eyes now bloodshot and heavy.

They rolled back, and soon you become quiet.

Bringing you to the very edge, Art removed your hand and allowed air to enter your lungs.

You gasped painfully, choking and sobbing as you were given no time to inhale greedily, instead getting ravaged inhumanly fast.

You couldn't lift your head, eyes blinking dazedly up at Art, who lifted a hand to wave at you mockingly.

You tried to speak but couldn't, mouth held open in permanent ecstasy. Your hips snapped upright as fingers roughly rubbed at your engorged clitoris, abusing the greedy nub.

A cry tore from your raw throat, head thrashing side to side and legs shaking violently as your orgasm rendered you incoherent.

You screamed out, squirting almost violently down your quivering thighs and over Arts rigid, brutal cock.

You sobbed, face screwing up pathetically as genuine, uncontrollable cries wracked your form. You could barely intake breath, body and nerves unable to handle the level of soul wrenching pleasure and borderline pain that was inflicted upon you.

Art gripped your shaking thighs and lifted them above his shoulders, face devoid of his usual smirk and instead scowling down at you with smouldering eyes. He fucked you harder, faster, animalistic before his hips stuttered once, twice, and a hot, thick load of cum filled your gaping pussy.

The amount was unnatural, not human, but your body lapped it up all the same as your insides convulsed and quivered. You moaned weakly, keening in a higher pitch as your lips wobbled and your eyes remained misted and delirious.

You didn't even feel Art pull out, stuck in a dream like state as aftershocks lit your body up. Your legs were dropped from his shoulders, falling unceremoniously to the bed, wide open.

You babbled incoherently, arm covering your face. Art stared down at you serenely, gazing from your dick dumb espression to the mess of cum coating your thighs, globs of it dripping down to your asshole. Your hole gaped and twitched, greedily gulping up all that it could take, thoroughly fucked and bred.

You felt two fingers scooping up the mess and pushing it filthily back into your pussy.

You whined, dropping the arm from your eyes to finally look at the demonic clown that had surely taken grip of your soul and tore it out.

Art smirked down at you, winking playfully. He revelled in the mess he made of you.

"Art that was--I--Mmm--", you moaned, responding to the gentle caress of your clit with his fingers. You were so wet and full of cum, biting your lip.

You didn't move as you felt his form pull away from you. You were so out of it you felt drunk.

You didn't feel him tucking you into bed, only remembered being beneath the blankets as he tilted his head down at you contemplatively.

He felt something foreign, that was for certain. He felt a possessive adoration over you, wanting to break you into a crying, sobbing mess, strangle you until you stood on the precipice of death like earlier, but also..

Watching you now, eyes drooping as you gripped his hand softly, tiredly, he made the final decision that he wanted more tender moments like this.

You were the rare occasion, the only occasion.

He was going to consume you whole.

#terrifier #terrifier 3 #damien leone #art the clown #art the clown x reader #art the clown smut #terrifier smut #terrifer x you

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blasphemousclaw · 1 month ago

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ok I keep seeing takes that shadow of the erdtree fumbled the hornsent because they made them too unlikeable and unsympathetic and enabled all those “total hornsent death” weirdos but I wholeheartedly believe that the writers have been portraying the hornsent sympathetically from the very beginning. like just because the story spends time on the darker aspects of hornsent society doesn’t mean that it’s arguing that Marika and Messmer were in the right? in fact I think it’s pretty obviously arguing the opposite?

some of the first sights you’ll see in the Shadow Lands are the scorched ruins, which are surrounded by hornsent grave markers — wooden stakes each with a horn affixed to it, horns being seen as sacred objects in hornsent society. the victims’ shades (by the look of them, ordinary people; farmers, merchants, and laborers) can be found wandering around the Shadow Lands and are often non-hostile; they can be found kneeling, weeping, stacking small stones, or clasping their hands in silent prayer.

there’s a courtyard in Belurat completely filled with hornsent graves, and it’s also the place where Queelign invades you… the sheer number of graves here is horribly sad, and the fact that Queelign attacks here even after all those people were killed honestly makes him seem like an absolute monster

just look at this menace. knocking over the graves of the people he murdered. shame on you Queelign

further into Belurat there’s a very small, missable room where you can pick up the Dried Bouquet talisman:

“A quaint bouquet of dried flowers, offered to a small grave. Raises attack power when a spirit you have summoned dies. The sorrow that flows from the untimely demise of a loved one is a tenderness shared by all, regardless of birthplace.”

this description is pretty directly saying like, “hey, these people are human beings just like you who grieved the loved ones they lost, who couldn’t sympathize with that?”

my personal favorite examples here are the scorpion stews, which are given to you by Hornsent Grandam after defeating Divine Beast and wearing its head:

Scorpion Stew: “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. Traditional meal of the hornsent. Boosts physical damage negation temporarily and gradually restores HP. Once made with love by a certain elderly woman for the family table. Having long gone cold, this soup gives off a rank, sour smell.”

Gourmet Scorpion Stew: “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. An exquisite dish chock-full of mouth-watering scorpion claws. Boosts physical damage negation temporarily and gradually restores a great amount of HP. The thoughts and feelings of the cook melt and blend into the stew, but those who can distinguish the taste of love are few and far between. "Partake, partake, until thou art sated.””

how can you claim that the hornsent are dehumanized when grandma literally cooks you a traditional hornsent meal made with love!!! how heartbreakingly sweet is that!!! especially with the dialogue you get from Hornsent if you share the stew with him:

“What’s this? Do you think me in need of alms? Ah… but this dish. Tis fare o’ the tower. I remember fondly this kin-clad scent. …Brings back memories I’d all but forgot. This, by my troth, is but a dismal copy. Indeed, I think it rather plain to see… things once broken can never be the same.”

we’re presented with the image of a delicious traditional meal that hornsent families used to cook and eat together, and then we remember, Hornsent Grandam is all alone, she has no one but us to cook stew for, and Hornsent has no family anymore to share his stew with.

before wrapping this up I want to mention Leda’s dialogue about the hornsent because I think it describes the situation pretty well (surprisingly well maybe, given what she’s like):

“Long ago, Queen Marika commanded Sir Messmer to purge the tower folk. A cleansing by fire. It’s no wonder the hornsent holds the Erdtree in contempt. That aside, man is by nature a creature of conquest. And in this regard, the tower folk are no different. They were never saints. They just happened to be on the losing side of a war. But it’s still a wretched shame.”

the hornsent were not a perfect society. far from it. but no society is perfect, and the hornsent need not have all been saints for what happened to them to have been wrong. no person has the right to act as judge, jury, and executioner for an entire civilization of human beings. if people want to take the very worst of hornsent society as representative of their entire population and argue that every single one of them deserved to die then I’m afraid that’s their problem, because the game absolutely does not agree with them

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #hornsent #hornsent grandam #needed to get this out of my system bc ive seen so many inaccurate and bad-faith claims about the dlc that im losing faith in humanity

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soobnny · 5 months ago

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dating him | lee know

❝ come over, the cats miss you ❞

if he wasn’t a menace before (impossible btw), he sure as hell is now

this man is relentless

teasing as his love language

just loves riling you up bc he thinks ur reactions are so cute

and he smirks a lot too

if he wasn’t so damn attractive, u would’ve wiped that smirk off his face !!!!!

“wait min, i got a text”

“nice to know you have friends”

u hate him 😭😭😭😭😭

he’s such a little shit that he’s even rilling u up during ur dates

laser tag games where he kisses you to distract you before taking you out

HE’S SO MEAN

he’d push you against the wall with a sly smirk and you think you won’t fall for it again, but you do

every single time

u should’ve known better

this is lee “resident cheater in all possible games” minho

anyways

he is also an ass lover ❤️❤️❤️

i’m sorry but u cannot go into a relationship with him without expecting him to always have his hand on ur ass in some way

so in short

the trope is giving u thought he was out of ur league but he’s actually a weirdo

so now u’re dating the Weird Kid

(u wouldn’t want it any other way)

his other love language is acts of service

i said in my chan one that minho also gives Chief Hong from hometown cha3

like tell me i’m wrong

man wife #2

he is ur personal handyman

he’s just good at everything

will most probably only do it for u tho

seungmin: hyung can u fix my sink

minho: no

seungmin catching strays 😂😂

you: babe—

minho: what do you need me to do now

he says it in fake annoyance too

but he’s got his tools in his hand already ready to do whatever u want

obsessed i tell u

he drives u around too

if you have an event, a party, a project, anywhere you need to be

he’ll drive u there

he always makes time

AND he picks you up too like shut up

it could be a party that finishes at 2am and he’s just waiting for your call to pick you up

sometimes, you tell him he can just sleep early bc your friend will give you a ride home

when you get home, look … he’s still awake

he’s been waiting for you to come home this whole time to make sure you’re safe

BUT he doesn’t say anything

the moment he sees you’re alive and breathing (and doesn’t need taking care of), he’s on his way to the bedroom to sleep

when u look around, he’s done the chores already

he just does things to lessen the load that u might have u know

if u’re so stressed with anything, he’d silently clean up ur room or bring u food

so u don’t have to think about that anymore

also the best chef in town btw

he likes cooking together

and by cooking together i mean like he does all the work and u just stay there and keep him company

he can’t risk ur clumsy ass injuring urself

comforts u thru his cooking too

would baby u and feed u when u’re sad

his favorite dates with u are quiet, homemade dinners

just likes being with u and u only

away from everyone else

as niki would say, i don’t like anyone except sometimes you

it’s in moments like those that he just unwinds and shows u his softer sides

he’s honestly just so gentle and soft

he looks at u with stars in his eyes

ugh such an attentive listener too

sometimes u think he isn’t listening, but he’s got it all memorized

“yeah u mentioned it on our date 3 months ago”

like damn

anyways, moving on

his pet names for u give olden times

honey, darling, jagi

but also loser, idiot, stupid girl (endearingly)

so u two are giving me old married couple

u’d both wake up early and have coffee or tea together and just talk abt anything

also this is far into the future but like

sneak peek at minho as ur husband

i think u two would be the type to have a garden

like gardening would be ur little hobby

he grows fruits and vegetables

u beg to grow flowers

OK BACK TO BOYFRIEND MINHO

randomly sending selfies thru the day

THOSE selfies

u know what i’m talking abt

forces u to send selfies back

(ur photos are all saved and hidden in his phone but he will never tell u that)

oh u’ve also become his cats’ mom btw

one of ur favorite errands to do is going grocery shopping for his cats

u’d always end up buying them a gift

“u’re the reason my cats are spoiled”

SUUUUUUURE minho suuuuuuure

cat fashion shows

like dress to IMPRESS

(btw idk why but i feel like u could force him to play roblox with u)

he also uses his cats to lure u to visit him btw

“soonie misses u, u’re being a bad mother”

it’s just him who misses u let’s be real

and if ur favorite thing to do with him is cat shopping, his is walking by the han river with you

he loves walking

esp when it’s with you

just a peaceful walk tbh like yall don’t even have to say anything

tho sometimes when he’s feeling playful, he’d suddenly play tag with you

ends with both of u just sitting by the river and looking at the lights and the stars and holding hands or maybe ur head on his shoulder

damn wish that were me fr

when u go home, u watch some variant of a trashy reality tv show together

u’ve basically seen it all

but if anyone were to ask u what happened in those shows, yall wouldn’t know

u two were too busy just making out instead of paying attention

or falling asleep

old married couple i’m telling u

expect to also be dragged into his camping

when he has particularly long days off, he’d propose going camping together

ah, the beauty of warm bonfires and quiet conversations

he’d take good care of you the whole time

like yessss do your job as a man and fix up this entire camping site

and he does

tho, aside from camping, he’d also suggest hiking to take in the view of the mountains and the pretty sky

u’d wake up early on both occasions just to watch the sun rise

in contrast to these very productive activities, sometimes minho also just loves lazy sundays where you just cuddle for the entirety of the day

what more could he want

u and his cats with him

that’s honestly just the dream

good luck cat mom

have fun acting like an old married couple with lee know

he is the dream man

nonchalant to anyone else except u

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago

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By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.

She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.

"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.

"Steve Harrington."

"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"

"Oh, er--just me, actually."

Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"

Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."

So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.

Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.

"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"

Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"

Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"Little bit," Steve smiles.

"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."

"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.

After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.

---

Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.

He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"You alright, man?" Steve asks.

Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."

His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."

He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"

He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.

"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.

Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.

---

It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.

He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.

Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.

He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.

Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.

"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.

"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.

"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."

Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.

He is so weird.

---

In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.

Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.

Flirting with her is easy.

He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.

It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"

Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.

It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.

"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.

He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.

Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.

---

They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.

They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.

Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.

Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.

A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.

Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.

Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.

He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.

He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.

---

When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

"Have you seen my notebook?"

"What?" Steve's heart drops.

"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"

"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.

"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.

Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.

"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.

They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.

"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.

Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."

"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.

The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.

Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.

"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.

"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #ficlet #oneshot #college au #best friends to lovers #fluff #eddie has a terrible crush #steve is oblivious #platonic stobin #a little angst #misunderstanding #they're all besties #eddie writes songs about steve #secret crush #and they were roommates

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ryescapades · 4 months ago

Note

can i request Narumi x reader but the reader is similar to Dazai(not really but i forgot who else that i could make an example of) ? Very silly and people underastimate them because of that but when the situation calls for it they're scary as hell.

Maybe Narumi underastimate them at first, and then he saw how scary they actually are but instead of going 100% scared he's like "thats kinda hot"

Maybe the reader is a captain/vice-captain of another division or a platoon leader. Also, make the personality EXTRA silly(the reader is doing it on purpose) like airhead, silly, and very naive (the reader is faking it and people actually fell for that act)

caprice | narumi gen

— three times narumi noticed you during the joint training session between the first and third divisions, slowly getting to know you from afar and the one time he inadvertently decided to fall for you (literally).

genre/warning: gn platoon leader dazai!reader, fluff, inaccurate use of scientific conditions and processes, idk if reader is silly enough here... i tried my best ok TT

a/n: uh another long fic haha thank you for the request!! dazai is actually one of my top kinnies but i'm not sure if this is even good, anon i'm rly sorry if it's not up to your standards 🥲 also here's the menace :3

3.4k wc hoshina | extra

the first time narumi gen met you, a member he'd assumed was from the third division, the only thing that was on his mind was what the fuck?

no, literally.

because what the fuck were you doing being hung upside down in the first division's gym room, discussing about god knows what with his platoon leaders?

"wait, wait, i think i'm finally feeling it!" you squealed, arms expanding to the side to distance the others from your hanging body. "whoa! is it working, is it working?" tachibana inquires excitedly beside an entertained-looking shinonome. "are you really sure this method is even legit?" the latter added, amusement clear in her eyes.

"what the hell are you guys doing?" narumi couldn't help himself from intervening the scene, for the sheer incredulity had taken over him before he even had the time to think it over. the three of you turned to face him in surprise.

his own subordinates straightened up to give him a salute, while it took you a few minutes before you did too. "ara, if it isn't captain narumi himself," you mused. narumi only raised an eyebrow, not shocked in the slightest that you knew him as he waited for a reply to his earlier question. at that, your expression enlightened.

"oh, right! your platoon leaders here were meditating earlier and tachibana-san almost dozed off... so i suggested a method to feel less sleepy. being hung like this makes you feel the blood rushes to your head, you know? it's such an exhilarating feeling for real," you claimed, resulting in the captain to gaze at you questioningly as your thumb and pointer fingers perched below your chin almost proudly.

narumi blinked, thinking about how... odd this person— you— was. is the third division only consisted of weirdos? must be some random low-class officer meeting those two on accident, he thought, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

it was not long after that when the first division's captain saw you again, this time in the mess hall where you were sitting with some familiar faces from the third division, which only reinforced his theory that you were indeed from the third.

"reno, have you watched the new movie i talked about before?" furuhashi asked, swallowing his food before looking at his fellow officer. "oh, the one with that famous actor from russia? no, i haven't. isn't that movie adult-rated though?" the silver-haired prodigy asked.

"whaaat? why are you children watching movies about people who play hide the salami, huh!?" kafka scolded, causing furuhashi to counter back, "who the heck even says 'hide the salami' these days, old man?!" by then you just arrived with your tray of food, hearing only one-fourth of the sentence when you took a seat beside the older man.

"oohh, are we pranking someone?" you butt in eagerly, joining in the conversation. the other three snapped their heads towards you in confusion. "prank? who said anything about a prank?" reno asked, head tilting to the side.

you smiled, blinking owlishly at his question. "hide the salami? why are we hiding food if not for a prank...?" your eyes bounced between the three men who were sharing awkward glances with each other.

narumi, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, nearly grimaced. so you're odd and... kind of an airhead, in a way. his brain concluded, simply observing when you abruptly pointed your finger at something far to the right, "captain ashiro, look! there's a cute cat over there!!" when ashiro snapped her head so fast, she realized a bit too late to catch your sneaky hand stealing a piece of food from her tray.

"hey, eat your own food!" kafka reprimanded as you happily nibbled on the stolen treasure but ashiro only waved it off, muttering about how she's gotten used to your antics by now, secretly fond of how your delighted expression itself comically resembled a feline creature.

"what are you staring at, baka shisho?" kikoru's jeer interrupted narumi's daze, causing his back to tense. "nothing. can't you go a day without being an annoying pest?" he sneers, which the girl only laughed mockingly at, though surprisingly she didn't notice that the captain was still snooping in to hear the conversation at your table, listening to the many obnoxious and bizarre (yet interestingly smart, he'd begrudgingly admit) ways you'd recommended to prank someone.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the third time narumi saw you, it was during a joint sparring session between his and the third division. he was initially supposed to be overseeing kikoru and her new numbers weapon suit but the commotion at the central area of the training venue had snatched his, and the other officers' interest instead.

it was you, preparing to spar with hoshina, his nemesis. in hand-to-hand combat, no less. not to add the two of you were going to use real swords, not the dummy ones.

"are they serious? why would they match up against hoshina?" "i know right... they're gonna lose for sure," "yikes, i'm sending early condolences to them right now,"

narumi had to agree with what he heard his division members were whispering about. sure, he sometimes thinks hoshina's skill level is below his own, but to spar with a regular officer? the swordsman is gonna pummel you straight to the ground, no doubt!

however, his chain of thought was eventually cut off when he later noticed that you were holding on your own, superbly at that. with every hit of hoshina's blade, you'd parried with your own and every small opening hoshina had unknowingly exposed, you had taken the advantage by striking just as hard.

the rapid sounds of metal clanging against each other were loud, echoing even. it was plainly and clearly visible to him that you're not just an officer.

narumi called for his disciple, "oi. who's that training with your vice-captain?" he asked, head nodding towards where you and hoshina were still exchanging blows. kikoru glanced at the direction he mentioned before she grinned wide and cheshire-like.

"oh, them. that's one of our newly appointed platoon leaders, y/n-san! such a spectacle to behold, i know! they're from the third, after all!" she boasted. a platoon leader? y/n, huh... narumi could finally put a name to that pretty face.

wait, what? who the hell said that?

the bicolor-haired man shook his head a bit before focusing back at the fight. "what are you gloating for, dumbass. it's not like—" his sentence died midway when suddenly a particular hard swing from hoshina had struck you straight in the face, causing you to stagger backward as your block was seen a little too late to cover the blow.

the atmosphere suddenly became silent and still, narumi's eyes widening in surprise at the same time as hoshina's in guilt when everyone noticed the few drops of blood through your fingers. "shit, sorry! i didn't mean to hit ya that hard! you okay there?"

narumi instinctively took a step towards your direction when your figure started swaying, his eyes unconsciously glaring at the violet-haired man as the latter reached out his palm so that you could show him the bruise but when you gave no reply, eyes downcast and body rigid, hoshina cursed under his breath. "fuck, y/n. i'm so sorry—"

"boo!"

the unexpected sight of your mischievous, uninjured face and only a faintly sliced skin on your palm greeted the crowd. an annoyed mark appeared at the side of hoshina's head. "you cheeky lil' brat! ya had me so worried there!" he scolded, his hands pulling on your cheeks so hard your eyes watered as you whined, "but it was hilarious watching you— ow, ow, vice-captain! that hurts!"

the others seemed to relax, and a few hushed murmurs entered narumi's ears.

"the heck? what a fluke." "right? there's no way they held off for that long. the vice-captain must have gone easy on them."

on the sidelines, narumi's mouth gaped open and then closed like a fish. was that actually a fluke, or are you actually...? he was slightly bewildered, not knowing whether to acknowledge the fact that you are, in fact, such a whimsical and unserious person he almost found it quite endearing (he didn’t bother acknowledging that thought), or that it was unnoticeable by almost everyone else, but he could see the scratches on hoshina's hands and face, the nicks his RT-0001 eyes had detected were done by your sword.

they were indistinct, hardly noticeable, and barely bleeding that it just proved how careful you were in handling your blade. what's more jarring, however, was that his kaiju eyes couldn't miss the deadly and almost murderous look in your eyes when you were exchanging blows with hoshina earlier.

narumi couldn't help but to smirk menacingly as he ran a hand through his locks, feeling enraptured by the sudden realization.

so it's not just hoshina he has to beat. there's you now.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

it was another random tuesday night when the emergency kaiju alarm blared, signalling the entire headquarter of the incoming kaiju attack. in the meeting room together with the captains and other platoon leaders from the third and first divisions, you were briefly discussing strategies and plans for the neutralization process.

"so it's settled, then. two platoon leaders from each division in one sector. make sure to remember where your group is assigned and keep track of any yoju going in and out of your sector before alerting the other platoons of it. this one might get messy," ashiro summarised before everyone briskly moved out, preparing to head to the kaiju location.

narumi, who had been halfheartedly listening to the whole briefing in boredom, pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and headed towards the door, before noticing a lone figure standing by the desk in the middle of the room.

you were staring hard at the splayed out map in front you, hands shoved in your pockets and head tilted to the side in what narumi assumed to be deliberation. what else is there to think about when ashiro already summed up everything? the man thought before he shrugged, leaving you alone in the meeting room.

the mission was supposed to be simple. tedious, sure, but easy enough for the two divisions to handle. take down the honju, then finish off the remaining clusters of its accompanying yoju— it was said they'd go berserk when triggered by the death of the mother— that were scattered throughout the district.

well, until it's not so easy anymore.

once ashiro had shot down the honju using the explosive power of her cannon, all the yoju had indeed, gone ballistic. the battlefield was messy with all the kaiju corpses and rubbles from destroyed buildings.

appointed as one of the main firepower on land, narumi's earpiece dinged, and the voice of one of the operations officer filled his ears. "captain narumi! sector d requested for backup just a few minutes ago but we've recently lost contact with them!"

confusion took over the captain's expression. backup? these lots of yoju barely have a 4.0 fortitude, did a new high-leveled kaiju appear? oh well, another material to be used in increasing my kill count and popularity if that's the case. his mind pondered as he stepped off the dead body of the kaiju he'd just taken down, his bayonet slung over a shoulder.

"aite, on it," straight away on the move, he considered the possibilities of a bigger threat popping up, like another one of no 9's creation, for instance. narumi's expression darkened at the thought.

however, when he arrived at the site, there was no commotion at all. it was rather quiet. he would've thought that no battle had happened here, if not for the concrete debris and kaiju remains laying around. he decided to look around and survey the area, just in case the information he received was just a small miscalculation.

it was not until he realized he had walked for too long that he froze. sector d wasn't supposed to cover this much space, so why were there so many corpses outside of the neutralization area? narumi tried connecting his earpiece, only for it to let out a series of crackles. this is where they lost connection, huh? he thought.

a sudden movement to his left had him going stiff before he swiftly and sharply spun, bayonet ready in his hand. irritation took over his expression when he saw that it's just an officer. "hey, i almost took your head! be more mindful next time, will you?" he chastised, causing the officer to bow profusely, cowering away from his large weapon. "i apologise, captain narumi! i was just wondering what are you doing here... the neutralization is already finished in this part of the sector."

"haah?? operations said you guys needed backup. what's up with that?" he complained, glaring at the officer who he assumed was from the third division since he wasn't a familar face to narumi at all. "oh, that's already been dealt with! platoon leader y/n had it all planned out!" narumi halted at that, now intrigued so he told the officer to fill him in on what happened prior to the mission.

---

"psst, you two! come here for a sec," the men in question, toma and ryu turned when they had heard you calling for them a few feet away from the mixed group of first and third divisions soldiers in sector d. "yes! what is it, platoon leader?"

"mind helping me out for a bit?" as they immediately nodded their heads, you straight promptly explained what you wanted them to do. "so we just need to be on the lookout with you at the communication towers outside the sector?"

"ding, ding! that's correct! if you see a kaiju coming your way, just lure it back to your original post where everybody else is. i'll be staying back to tweak out some electricals at the radio masts." you stated.

with the yoju having a bat-like behavior, you'd theorized that they would use ultrasonic echolocation to create a radio wave disturbance that could badly affect the earpieces you're using. despite how low the kaiju's fortitude is, it's immense intellect make up for most of that small number.

that's why the yoju would've probably target the region with the densest wave energy, which is the telecommunication towers. with its echolocation and your communication devices pulsing simultaneously, they would interfere with each other and cause an overlap of frequencies. hence, communication lost between officers would highly likely happen.

"that's fine and all, but y/n-san... if the kaiju really is how you speculate it, what if there's a lot of them coming at once?" toma asked worriedly. "you'll die, of course." you simply answered, making the officers screech in horror, "WHAT??!!"

letting out a chuckle, you waved a hand in dismissal. "don't worry. if there are many of them appearing, just leave them be and return to your post,"

toma and ryu exchanged a look. "but then we'd be leaving you alone, y/n-san!" the latter wailed. at that, you hummed thoughtfully, "hm... i'll be the one dying then," you said matter of factly.

"Y/N-SAN!!!"

"how about we do rock-paper-scissors to decide who's fixing the comms?"

"this is not the time to joke around, platoon leader!"

you belted out a laugh at their unified shriek of despair. "it's fine, it's fine! put a little trust on me, yeah? if there's nothing else, i'll head on first. i'll be counting on you guys!"

---

"turned out the kaiju that emerged really did behave exactly like how platoon leader y/n had expected. i kind of felt bad for the first division officers that were assigned together with us because they weren't informed about the plan," toma, narumi had learned of his name, said.

narumi stood there, a tinge of amazement sitting in the far back of his mind at the thought of how meticulous you had been in planning your own strategies. although he was a bit annoyed that you didn't bother telling your fellow platoon leader or superiors— ashiro, hoshina, or him, even— about it. your officers were right; you could've died.

toma was about to add more when your sheepish voice in his earpiece caught his attention. "nee, nee, toma. are you free right now? or anybody, really. i've fixed the signals since it got altered again but uh, i kind of need some help with all these yoju around me," you said, not in the slightest worried about how dangerous the situation you were in right now.

in fact, you sounded like you were casually talking about fixing a broken lamp instead of trying to adjust the freaking junction boxes while being surrounded by a bunch of kaiju.

narumi zeroed in when toma cried out your name. "what? you said you already neutralized all of them, y/n-san! what do you mean there's more?!"

the first division captain immediately snatched the earpiece, completely unapologetic in his action. "your location, platoon leader?" he ordered. "i'm still at the comms towers— oya? is this captain narumi i hear?" he didn't bother answering before he was already running (not before tossing the earpiece back to its owner), leaving behind a flabbergasted toma.

when narumi eventually stepped past the metal fences enclosing the area where you were at, the rosiness of his irises detected not just the piles of dead monsters but also a horde of still-alive kaiju swarming around a radio mast. his eyes twitched, visibly annoyed now that he knew why his earpiece had been giving out static noises one too many times ever since he entered sector d.

he made a quick work of taking them down, slicing away and shooting at every kaiju that came his way. at one point, he heard a faint sound behind him. narumi was about to turn and finish off the kaiju that was ambushing him, but then there was a slight change in the air. it was heavy, and it was approaching fast.

suddenly, a figure dropped from above, plunging the kaiju straight in the core so swiftly narumi almost thought he saw a lightning strike right in front of his very eyes. with a power so dense it almost rivaled his own, the man could only stare as blood sprayed out from the dead monster, raining down on both him and you.

sweet lord, it was you.

with your personal weapon in hand, standing so gracefully on top of the corpse it had his breath stuttering in his chest.

fuck, that was so hot, narumi unconsciously thought.

you, with blood smeared everywhere on your face and suit, finally connected your eyes with his. "oh, captain narumi! i didn't think you'd actually come here," you exclaim. when he gave no reply, your eyebrows raised in curiosity. "did you get injured, captain? why are you on the ground?"

it was only then that he noticed that he was down on his knees (narumi? the narumi gen?? kneeling???), his own weapon laid at his side, neglected. what the hell? he refused to admit how powerful and magnificent you were that it had him forgetting about your little naivety, that it had him weak in the knees.

he shook himself out of his embarrassing stupor before quickly standing back up. "good... i'm good," narumi internally cursed at himself when he realized his voice quivered midway.

"anyway, what in the world was that?! your officer said you didn't inform my platoon of your little plan here!" he fussed.

"ah, that! it was a gamble actually. i didn't want to risk the lives of those who haven't worked with me enough to understand how i operate in this line of work. my subordinates knew what they were in here for," you explained, nonchalantly wiping away the red liquid from your face.

a gamble on your life, basically. narumi frowned at that. he was about to comment more when you turned away, though your face was still directed at him. "well, in any case, i think i should be thanking you, captain." you sent him a cheeky grin.

"huh, what for?"

"you said i was hot earlier. thanks!" with that, you dashed away to handle the remaining kaiju, leaving behind a flustered and rigid narumi gen as he watched you go on a killing spree.

in spite of your beauty and grace, in his eyes, you ain't no angel, no. you're a goddamn valkyrie, an ethereal being dancing with death in the middle of a bloody battlefield. and he— his heart, is a mere soldier ready and willing to be lead by you to the gates of heaven, he realised.

jp phrases used >> おや (oya), ねぇねぇ (nee nee)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

#rye.works #cringe ahh ending ....#but fuck it we ball #<< been my motto these days lol #also why does this look so weird on mobile wtf #kn8 #kn8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no 8 #narumi gen #gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #narumi gen x reader #narumi x reader #narumi gen x you #gen narumi x you #narumi gen fluff #gen narumi x y/n

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devotedfem · 24 days ago

Text

«Scream»

Synopsis: It's late and you're watching horror movies. But someone's calling you, a weirdo asking you questions about classic horror films. Nothing was wrong until he started to threat you, and when you hang up the phone you realized there's murderers wearing ghostface masks in your house.

Maknae line (poly) x f. Reader

2.7K words.

Genre: Scream au | yander-ish.

Tags: psycopaths maknae line, mind games, psychological terror, murderers (implied but not described), betrayal, the maknae line are a menace here, emotional conflict, delusional maknae line, angry reader, very VERY dubious consent (coercion is not consent so read with caution), happy ending for them not for reader, smut, overstimulation.

A/N: I'm so sorry for disappearing for literally a month, i moved to another country and life has been very stressful lately, so yeah i took a break from writing but here i am again, writing lots of vminkook p0rn. Hope you enjoy!

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

You’re eating popcorn, resting on your couch with your feet up on the armchair. You took a gulp of your coke can without breaking your gaze from the tv screen, you startled staining your shirt when the slasher appeared from nowhere, you cursed under your breath taking off your shirt but before you can go to your room to change, your phone vibrated with notifications. You turned them off because the boys always get annoying on the weekends.

You opened the group chat, rolling your eyes when you see the 123 unread messages.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

Jiminie: Guys can u please stfu for a moment, I wanna sleep but u don’t stop talking shit.

You: let’s kicked them out of the group Jiminie, I swear I can’t even watch a movie in peace.

Jjk: u two r so fcking boring.

Tae: right? Like can u two at least read what were talking abt.

You: we’re*

Jiminie: lol

Jjk: Guys this is serious, there’s a sicko killing people wearing a ghostface mask.

You: Ghostface masks are hot.

Tae: ??

Jjk: ???????

Jiminie: ik right

You: Anyway, maybe is just a rookie killer without imagination, like it’s Halloween and there’s a lot of sickos around here. Just closed ur doors and don’t be a pussy.

Tae: I’m literally speechless.

Jiminie: Bye I’m sleeping, stfu.

Jjk: we warned u.

You dropped your phone on the couch, walking to your kitchen to make more popcorn. You missed the plot twist of the movie because of your friend’s annoying group chat.

You were on your bra and pajama pants, not caring about anything in the world. Until your home phone rings in your kitchen making you stop immediately. You frowned tilting your head to the side, watching the old home phone still ringing. It’s being ages since someone called to that number, you didn’t even know that the ancient thing was still working.

“Odd,” you murmured to yourself, answering the phone.

“Hello?”

You heard a heavy breath on the other side of the phone. The person says nothing back, making you frown.

“Who’s this? And why are you calling to this number?” Your patience was running thin ice.

“I’m watching you,” said a man with a low voice.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance.

“Is this a prank? Don’t call to this number again or I’ll fuck you up.”

You were about to hang up the phone but a deep chuckle from the man stopped you. Why does he sound familiar to you?

“Are you watching Friday the 13th?” He taunted. His voice sounded odd, like if he was lowering it purposely.

Your stomach sink with dread, your heart rate speed up when you heard from the tv the slasher killing people.

“What if I do?” You gritted between teeth, keeping an eye on your surroundings. You won’t show fear to that weirdo.

“Let’s play a game, I’ll ask you some questions about horror movies. And if you answer wrong, I’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened by his words, you were about to hang up and call the police but the other man was quicker than you.

“If you hang up or try to touch your fucking phone I’ll slice your neck,” the threat made you freeze on your place, the wire of the home phone wouldn't let you move far away anyway.

You felt your eyes sting up with tears by fear. You remember Jungkook and Taehyung warning.

Your breath turned shallow and your grip on the home phone started to tremble. You felt cornered and scared.

“What’s the identity of the masked killer of Scream?”

You inhaled deep, this one was easy.

“Uhm, his name was Billy, Sidney’s boyfriend.”

Your eyes roamed your kitchen, watching your surroundings again with dread and fear.

“Good.”

You couldn’t help but frown again because he sounded so familiar to you, but you can’t pinpoint of whom that voice belongs to.

“Last one; what’s the plot twist of Friday the 13th?”

Fucking fucker.

This time your eyes blurred by unshed tears because of how nervous and panicked you felt. You’ve never been good at dealing with strong emotions, even when you try to act tough, in your insides you’re very easy to scare and intimidate.

“I- please i-I don’t know,” you stuttered with quivering lips, you feel like having a panic attack.

“Look behind you, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched sharply, you turned your neck to look behind you, widening your eyes and screaming at the top of your lungs when you saw a man in your kitchen, wearing a ghostface mask and waving his unoccupied hand at you.

And then you run.

And he did it too.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, noticing with horror how the SIM card was missing. But you didn’t have time to linger about that thought.

You listened to his steps chasing you from behind, making you run faster by the increase of adrenaline pumping your veins.

You tried to open the front door of your house, but it didn’t budge. You were home alone, your parents went out in a trip.

You were fucked up.

Without any more options, you climbed the staircases hiding in a bathroom.

You try texting your parents but it was past midnight and your phone didn’t have its sim card, so you can’t call neither text.

That’s why you opened the app where you and your friends have the group chat.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: CALL THE POLICE THERE’S SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE AND THEYTOOKMYSIM CARD

Jjk: y/n? what the fuck, that’s not funny.

You: PLEASE IM NOT JOKING AND I CANTK CALLM THEPLICE

Tae: are you being serious right know?

Jiminnie: you guys again?

Jjk: Y/n’s saying there’s someone in her house but she can’t call the police but she can chat with us lol.

You: GUYS PLEASEIMSERIUS PLEASE HES COMING I NEED YOUR HELP CALL THE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tae: dude writing in capitals won’t make your prank more credible

You screamed into your hand with frustration, pulling your hairs out and weeping with fear, you wanted to smash your head against the tiles by exasperation. They weren’t taking you seriously.

Then you half open the door quietly, watching the murderer roaming the hallway. When he turned his back to you, distracted on his phone, you took yours to snap a picture of him.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: *send picture*

You: THIS IS HIM HES INMYHOUSE

Jjk: what the fuck

You: JUNGKOOK IM HAVINGAPANICK ATTACK CALL THE FUCKING POLICE OR ILL KILL YOU MYSELF

Tae: Damn no need to be so harsh y/n, calm down.

You: CALL THE POLICE YOU MORONS

Jiminnie: u guys r so annoying

You: jiminniehelp me please please please im scared imnot lying

Jjk: y/n you’re making me worry, aren’t you fucking with us?

You: NOO!!!!!!!!

Tae: oh well, then we should do something abt it

You: OFC U IDIOT

Jjk: yeah ur right tae, what we should do?

You: CALLTHEPOLICE?????!!!!!!!!

Tae: u think so?

Jjk: mm not so sure

Tae: and u Jiminnie, what do u think?

You: guys whats happening, please im scared

Jiminnie: I think I’ll go and help my y/n.

You frowned with trembling hands, tasting the saltiness of your silent tears. You were about to throw up and insult them again but the bathroom’s door opening made you jump with fear.

“Here you are.”

In any other circumstance you would scream and run for your life, you would grab something from the bathroom to throw it at him and save your life. But none of that happened, you stayed in your spot freeze, maybe because you were having a panic attack, but even then your primal instincts should fuel you to run. But that wasn’t the reason of your frozen state. Not at all. It was the fact that you recognized that voice.

“You… are you…”

Then the murderer took off his ghostface mask, tilting his head to the side and making your heart shatter.

“Yes my y/n?”

Jimin, fucking Park Jimin.

The deep fear was replaced by ugly hurt and anger. You saw red, walking towards him with your fists clenched, you punched him on his shoulder but he didn’t budge.

“How dare you scared me like that! You think is funny?! I hate you so much, I don’t want to see your fucking face ever again. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, with angry tears streaming to your chin.

“You thought I was joking?” he asked with mirth, the dark glint in his eyes turned your stomach with dread.

“Just get out Jimin,” you said tired and hurt.

“Y/n, I’m here to kill you-”

And just by that your fear came back twice as hard, your ears buzzed clogging up Jimin’s next words.

You ignored your throat lump of hurt and betrayal, you felt numb while running away from him, hiding in one of the bottom’s cabinets of your kitchen.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling your knees to your chest. You cried until you felt your eyes swelling.

“Y/n? Baby where are you?”

Your eyes widened at Taehyung’s sweet voice calling for you.

You didn’t think twice before opening the cabinet and throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Taehyung chuckled hugging you back as hard, stroking your hair while you’re crying on his neck.

“There there, nothing bad will happen to you.”

The shinning knife in Taehyung’s other hand knocked some sense into you. The realization of your reality hit you hard making you gasp and break the hug in a flash, you watched him with your jaw set and your eyes showing the deep hurt and betrayal you felt inside.

Taehyung foxy smile widened on his lips, he pouted when you took a step back from him.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” he said softly, biting his bottom lip to stop a smirk.

You let him come closer to you just a step, and then you blow his head with a pan making him whimper with pain. You used his moment of confusion to run away past him.

You opened a window to get out of your house, your ears were buzzing by the raw adrenaline pumping your veins like liquid fire.

You were so, so close to reach your car until you’re not. The next thing you know is that you’re falling face down on the floor by a body launching at your back. You groaned with pain, feeling the body pinning you to the ground by its weight.

“Caught you,” Jungkook’s voice taunted against your ear, sounding out of breath.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, making Jungkook cursed under his breath. He covered your mouth quickly, lifting your body to take you inside the house again.

Your eyes were too swollen by the amount of tears you shed tonight, you were tired and hurt by their sick game.

Jungkook sat on your couch with you on his lap, one arm wrapped around your naked waist to pull you against his chest.

“Isn’t she so cute?” asked Jimin sighing dreamily, you felt acid rage running your veins. You felt like being mocked on.

“A little feisty, but pretty.” Taehyung sat beside you on the couch, his forehead dripping a little bit of blood. You smiled wide at his wound.

“Did it hurt?” You pointed to his forehead, he simply nodded with the corner of his lips curling down.

“Good,” you grinned with hatred.

“Now now, no need to be mean to our Taetae.” Jimin squatted before you, stroking your cheek even when you flinched your face away with disgust.

“No need to be fucking weirdos either, if you want to kill me do it already.” And then you literally spat on Jimin’s face, but to your horror and disgust he grinned wide tasting your drool with his tongue.

You wanted to throw up at the nasty sight.

“Sweetheart, we don’t want to hurt you, even less kill you,” chuckled lowly Jungkook behind you, his grip on your waist tightened a little.

“What? But Jimin said-“

“I didn't say anything, silly. You didn't even let me finish before running away,” Jimin sighed standing up, getting out of the living room and leaving you there feeling totally lost.

“Then… why are you guys doing this?” You whispered weakly, feeling way more unease than before.

“You’ll see.” Whispered back Taehyung near your ear, chuckling when you flinched.

And you did see it.

Jimin dragged your parent’s tied bodies to the floor of the living room, making your stomach sink with horror and dread.

“We came here to kill them.” Grinned proudly Jimin, kicking your dad’s side when he tried to wiggle out of his ties.

“Why!? Leave them alone they did nothing wrong!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, so loud that your throat hurt.

Jimin’s face morphed into an enraged scowl. He walked towards you in two large steps, gripping your chin up roughly. His jaw was set and his gaze hard.

“Shut up, before I cut your tongue.” He hissed with fury swimming in his brown eyes.

You whimpered afraid, recoiling into Jungkook’s chest unconsciously. Jimin’s always been scary when he’s pissed off, but never to this point.

Jimin’s face softened immediately at your fearful expression, you saw a hint of regret in his gaze.

“Hey, don’t scare her.” Jungkook snapped soothing you when you cried, he hugged you tightly. But his soft kiss on your temple didn’t comfort you at all, it only made you wailed harder with disgust.

“Puh-please just… leave us alone, what do you want?” You asked with labored breaths, you looked up hopeless at Jimin.

“Hyung,” warned Taehyung darkly. He sounded on edge by your cries.

“We want you.” Said Jimin with a cold voice.

“And we’re pissed at your parents for lying to you about us.” Continued Jungkook with a thick angered voice.

“So, we came here to teach them a lesson.” Grinned widely Taehyung like a sadist.

It was nothing new that your parents didn’t like your friends, they always told you to get away from them. You never listened to your parents because you thought they were saying bullshit, but you damn regretted not listening to them. They were right about these sickos.

“So you just want me.” You deadpan.

“Yep.” You listened behind you.

“Okay fine, do whatever you want with me. But. Let. Them. Go.” You gritted between teeth, pointing at your parents passed out on the floor.

The living room went silent at your words, the hush made you feel unease.

Jimin squatted in front of you again, this time, giving you the meanest and sadistic grin you’ve ever seen before.

“Take her up.” He ordered lowly, piercing his heavy and intimidating gaze on you, then his eyes dropped slowly to stare at your naked torso, gaze darkening and fixated on your chest. You felt your cheeks heating up by embarrassment, you felt self-conscious.

Your throat lump and your stomach turned when Jungkook carried you up to your room. Taehyung coo when he saw your silent tears streaming from your eyes.

Jungkook laid you down on the mattress rather softly, making your heart shatter. They were your best friends. The acid betrayal you felt burning your chest and throat was too painful to bear.

You weren’t surprised when you saw your SIM card on your nightstand.

“Stop looking so miserable, we’re not hurting you.” Jungkook said on the defensive. His scowl only angered you, but another part of you enjoyed to see that your disgust affected him.

“You fucking hurt my parents, chase me in my own house and manipulated me to let you fuck me! I have all the right in the world to feel and look miserable!” You felt your vocal cords ripping by your loud scream.

Jungkook and you stared at each other with labored breaths, you didn’t break your gaze in challenge, until you heard Jimin’s giggles.

“Tied her to the bed,” he said with a smile, making your stomach turn.

You closed your eyes, if they wanted to have their way with you, so it be. But you’ll be just a dull body under them, you choose to dissociate rather than to be present for them.

“None of that, open your eyes.” Taehyung growled gripping harshly your chin.

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand wrapping your neck, making your eyes open in a flash.

And the image above you freeze your entire body.

The three of them were staring down at you with hunger on their eyes, you saw their pretty faces coming closer to yours, smiling like the devils they were.

Ready to wreck you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 1 month ago

Note

Feliz aniversário (hope thats correct) 😁🎂

If you don't mind maybe you could do "What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me" with ⚔️ and a fem!reader please? Doesn't have to be nsfw.

Anon, that was perfect portuguese! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! ❤️❤️ I know you said that it doesn't have to be NSFW, but it kind of turned out VERY NSFW... 😶 I hope that's still okay and I hope you enjoy it! I know I say this about all the stories, but damn did I have a lot of fun with this one!

I found the Zoro pic on Pinterest and couldn't find the artist. If you know it, please tell me so I can give credit! 🙏

Menace

Word Count: 5586

Tags: Fem!Reader; Rough Sex; Hate Sex; Enemies to Friends with Benefits; Edging; Power Dynamics; Spanking; NSFW; MDNI; Cursing; Alternate Universe - Modern Day College;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Your fraternity house, The Straw Hats, is hosting an auction to raise money for charity. The pleasure of your company has just been bought by the most insufferable man on campus, Roronoa Zoro. You've known him since you were kids, hated him for just as long, and now you're his for the night.

Notes: Yeah I can't take it... I was going to post this tomorrow but I'm terrible. I cannot hold on to a finished fic for more than half an hour. Should I post everyday? Maybe not, but, hey, let's break all the rules 🤯 I post and you all read whenever you got the time! How about that? 😅 I hope you enjoy this! ❤️

|Masterlist|

“Why do you hate Zoro so much?” Nami casually downs her –second? Third?– serving of vodka and doesn't even wince at the burn.

“It's complicated.” You take a small sip of your second refill and stop trying to keep up with Nami, or you'll be drunk before the auction even begins.

“Try me!” She challenges you with a grin and pours another drink on her red cup.

With a heavy sigh, you roll your eyes almost to the back of your head. “We go way back. Mihawk was my neighbour, and Perona used to be my babysitter, so I played with Zoro all the time, and he was always an insufferable prick. I just can't stand him.” Clenching your teeth, you forget about your self-imposed rule of slowing down and drink the contents of your cup in one long gulp.

You regret it immediately.

“Damn, that burns.”

“That's it?” Nami scoffs. “How anticlimactic.”

“What did you expect?” Setting the cup aside, you raise your brow while scanning the crowd. The party is finally picking up speed.

“I don't know. Anything is more interesting than that. That doesn't even make sense! A lover's quarrel, a con gone wrong, you broke his favourite toy as a kid… anything!”

With a pout, you take offence at Nami's words and mumble between your teeth. “I still have a right to hate his guts. We're just not compatible.”

Nami empties her cup again and shrugs. “Weirdo! Well, looks like the party is filling up, let's take our place on the stage!”

The groan that leaves your lips sounds like it came from the depths of hell. Damn it, you really didn't want to do this tonight. But you still follow Nami through the raging crowd and up the rickety steps of the impromptu stage –the kitchen and the living-room table lined up into an unstable surface – your irritation mounting up more and more. “Remind me why we're doing this again?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“It's a charity auction! For those kids with congenital diseases in Punk Hazard. It's an awesome cause, come on. You can bear this.”

Usopp takes ‘the stage’ and starts tapping the mic, a frown on his lips. “Oi, Franky, this is not working.”

“Yes, yes.” You continue. “I'm sure I can bear subjecting myself to be sold at an auction because ‘it's for charity’!” You say with varying degrees of eye-rolling. “Hey, Robin.” You greet the arriving girl. “Nami set you up for this too?”

Robin smiles at you with her sweet, beautiful smile. “She didn't have to. It's for charity! And you're not selling yourself, it's the pleasure of your company.”

Nami laughs and you groan. “You two are too good for this world.”

“Ah, yes, perfect! Thank you, Franky!” Usopp finally manages to get the mic to work, and the crowd starts to gather in front of the stage. The Straw Hats frat house, which you are a member of, is not big, but it's not that small either. You guys started small, didn't even make it to ten original members, but Luffy made such a name for himself that now, people rush all over campus just to join. “Welcome, welcome to the charity auction for… for…”

“The kids, dumbass!” Nami growls and hits him in the head.

“The kids! So, it has come to our attention that we were being–...” Usopp takes out a cue card from his pocket. “Misogynistic pigs.” He quotes with his fingers and sets the card aside. “Because we only had a line up of ladies up for auction.”

A chorus of boos fills the space, and you chuckle as Usopp starts to sweat. “Buuuuut, we fixed that! So, today, we will host an all-gender auction with the original members of the Straw Hats.” A loud cheer erupted, and you could've sworn the foundations of the very house shook. “And some extras.” Usopp adds with a grin and gives the crowd more time to get excited.

“Get your berries ready for: Nami–” The crowd cheers and wolf-whistles and you can hear Sanji threatening every man that dares look at Nami the wrong way. “Franky!” The woos are so loud that you almost have to cover your ears. “Robin, Luffy and his brothers, and yes, ladies and germs, they do come as a package, so bid high, Sanji, me–” He stops to hear the cheers but only Kaya, Usopp’s girlfriend, gives him a loud wolf-whistle. “Our rookie/mascot Chopper and our own lovely girl.” He says your name and you're surprised to hear some catcalls as well.

Wait, no Zoro? He managed to bail out of charity? How?

“Nami, did the asshole get lost on the way here? Or you didn't sign him up for this?” You ask, curious.

“Damn Zoro! He owes me so much money that I thought I could convince him to do this, but he had one favour to call, one measly favour! And he used it.” She seems genuinely pissed, and now you share the sentiment. Why didn't you have a favour to call?

But then the auction starts, and the bidding for Nami goes crazy. Sanji wants to deck every guy that even dares to bid, so he ends up being the winner. No surprise there, he's been in love with Nami since they met. Robin’s bidding is pretty tame because she looks a bit intimidating, but Trafalgar Law, the med student, wins, and you smirk. You've been trying to set those two up for ages. Luffy's bidding goes crazy because Boa Hancock only wants to bid for Luffy, she says she doesn't want to babysit the two morons, but she manages to convince another two girls to bid with her, and they take home “the prize”

When your turn finally arrives, you sigh, wishing against all hope that whoever bids for you is not an asshole and that you manage to share some good conversation.

The bids start small, like all night. The highest they went was 3,000 berries for Luffy –and the two morons– so if you make it to 1,000, you'll be happy to have contributed! You notice that rival frat boy Rob Lucci keeps bidding and eyeing you weirdly. Your stomach churns a little bit at the prospect of having to spend time with him, since you just rejected his date invitation last week. Seems like he didn't give up.

“2,000 berries.” A gruff, familiar voice shakes your thoughts, making your heart pound. In anger. Obviously.

It's freaking Zoro. Why the hell is he bidding for your company? Other than the fact that you hate each other, you live in the same house –hell, you live across from each other.

Rob Lucci grunts and raises his arm. “3,000 berries.” What? That's how much Luffy and his brothers got. What's going on?

“The fuck? 5,000 berries.” Zoro growls at Usopp as he approaches the stage. “And you better bang that damn hammer down, Usopp.”

You stare at Zoro, eyes wide and mouth open. Did he really just bid 5k for a night with you?

“It's a gavel…” Usopp starts and Zoro narrows his eyes at him. “Sold!”

-*-

What the fuck did he just do? Zoro wants to blame his lack of judgement on the booze, but he barely just made it to the party, he only had one beer. He hates you. He can't stand your insufferable ass. So why did he bid that much money on your company?

Just to make her night miserable.

He's trying to convince himself, but in reality, he couldn't stand the way the fuckers in the crowd were talking about you. About what they would do if they got your company, about what they would try to accomplish for a chance with you.

That shit had made his blood boil and, suddenly, he couldn't stand the thought of any man being in your company.

And then that fucker Lucci made his bid. And there was no fucking way he would get his hands on you, not if Zoro could help it. He’s a fucking creep.

But damn. The look of incredulity on your face is driving him crazy. The way your brows raise, making your eyes shine brighter. The way your perfect lips curve downward in disappointment? Zoro snickers. Well, at least his stupidity managed to make you mad!

“5,000 berries, Zoro?” The way your dress hugs your curves perfectly is doing things to him that he wishes to ignore. He hates your guts. You’re insufferable and annoying. And when you were little, you were such a menace to all of his toys and play swords, always breaking things and taking them out of place. He couldn't stand you! But that doesn't mean he doesn't have eyes on his face. You are stunning as hell. And your body always managed to burn desire into his veins.

“And I would've paid more just to see that annoyed look on your face, Menace.” The way you purse your lips in rage is satisfying in more ways than one. “Now I can ruin your night. Look at how much fun that's going to be.”

“Fuck this. I'm out.” You turn your back on him, and he grunts, taking a step forward and grabbing your wrist. You stop suddenly, shaken by the same thing as him, for sure. The way a jolt of electricity burns through his veins, making his heart skip a damn beat. Shit.

“You can't just say you're out. I paid for you.” Just ignore it.

“Correction, asshole, you paid for my company, but, for you, my company is worth ten times more than that!” You jerk your arm away from him, and he seethes when you leave with stamping feet. But he doesn't follow you yet, especially because, by the way your hips are swaying, he much rather stay in this spot and take it all in.

Damn it. He fucking loathes you.

-*-

The fucking nerve! How could he? Damn Zoro! Came out of nowhere just to ruin your night. As if you'd spend your night hanging with him! Doesn't matter if he looks damn hot in his fitted dress shirt and jeans. Who cares? He's an asshole.

Crap, you need a drink.

You take a turn in the hallway to get back to the party instead of running away, as you were going to do, and run face-first into Rob fucking Lucci.

“Hello, Doll.” He drawls out, and you grimace. The fuck? “All alone? Where's your buyer?”

A frown paints your lips at his lazy insult. Buyer? As if someone could own you.

“Hi Lucci, I don't know, frankly, don't even care. Bye.” You shrug and move to pass by him and return to the party, but he blocks your way with his towering frame, a predatory smile haunting his lips as an unwilling shiver courses through your veins.

“Leaving so soon?” Lucci takes a step towards you and you back off. “Stay a while, Doll, we can have fun.” Alarm bells sound in your head as you frantically look around and take another step back, hitting the wall.

“I don't think so, Lucci. I'm going.” With a deep breath, you try to move past him, but he places one hand on your chest, above your breasts, and pushes you against the wall with a thud.

“Is it money you want? Roronoa dropped 5k, but I wasn't willing to give more for charity.” His hand climbs until it's pressuring your neck, and you start to panic. The other hand slips beneath the strap of your dress and pulls on it until it breaks, almost revealing your breast. You open your mouth to scream, but he covers it. “I can give 5k just for you, if that's what you want. To be treated like a little whore.”

He barely finishes the word before a fist comes flying out of nowhere and decks him right on the nose. He grunts and falls down, freeing you in the process, and you gasp as you stare at Zoro's angry scowl. He's baring his teeth, body still angled from the force of the blow, heavy breaths making his shoulders heave.

“The fuck did you just call her, you fucking asshole?” Zoro takes another step towards Lucci –who's bleeding from his nose and curling down on the floor– and kicks him in the stomach. “Better get the fuck out of my sight before I break more than your fucking nose.”

And to your surprise, he does. He gets up with a string of curses and just leaves. You're still leaning against the wall, a hand on your neck, soothing the pain from Lucci’s grip, and staring at Zoro. He defended you. He hates you.

“You cool?” Zoro turns to you, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I'm fine.” You utter. Maybe you should thank him.

“Next time don't indulge him.” He says with so much disdain that your shock wears off completely.

“Excuse me? Indulge him? He fucking cornered me! And I didn't need your fucking help!” You take a step in Zoro's direction but quickly take another step back when he does the same to you, anger flaring in his eyes.

“Didn't you, really?” He laughs right in your face, and his breath is warm and smells of alcohol and forbidden things. “The fuck is this, then?” He grabs the loose strap of your dress, and the smallest touch of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to set it on fire.

“I… It’s…”

“Just say thank you, Menace. It's not that hard! It's two fucking words.” He slams his hand against the wall beside your face. This close, you can almost feel the body heat coming from his chest, which he now has out for everyone to see since he unbuttoned half of his shirt.

He's right. You should thank him. But it's a weakness you don't want to show him.

“You want me to say two words?” He hums low and you can almost feel the vibration coming from his chest. You lean forward, your face mere inches from his, hatred burning so hot and fierce in your body that you can't even differentiate it from the desire you know you also feel, even if it kills you to admit it. Licking your lips, and rejoicing in the way his eye darts to them, you say with contempt, “Make. Me.”

You can almost sense the heat rising with the words you spoke. The tension crackles and burns, coiling around your bodies like a lithe snake.

“You're fucking testing me right now.” His words burn straight into your core. How can you hate and, at the same time, want him so much?

“All talk, no action, right? I'm familiar with your type.”

His smirk seems deranged, and damn if that doesn't make your panties soak.

“What if I kissed you right now, Menace, would you stop me?” The velvet in his words almost makes your head spin. Would you? Stop him? Your eyes drop to his mouth, and you bite your lower lip in anticipation.

Probably not.

But he doesn't even let you answer, his smirk disappears as his eyes linger on your lips again. For a moment, you think he's going to do it, but then he leans back and lets out a dry laugh, scratching the back of his neck.

“Got ya.”

Shit. You feel really dumb right now. You really thought he was going to kiss you.

This is a very dangerous game you're playing right now. And you're done. “Thank you, for helping me.” You let out, slowly, before you push him and return to the party.

-*-

“You're hiding from me, Menace. I paid for your company. Humour me.”

You did spend the last hour trying to avoid Zoro, because something stirred within you since he decked fucking Rob Lucci for your honour. As if you were a freaking damsel in distress. Fuck hormones, fuck primal desire for strong men, fuck fairytale movies, and fuck romance books.

But in reality, all you really want is to fuck Roronoa Zoro.

And that right there is why you need to stay the hell away from him. Because he's an asshole and you hate him. “Why do you hate Zoro?” Nami's words have been resounding in your head for the last hour and, frankly, you don't even know. It's just one of those certain things in life, like the sun rising and setting every day. The sun rises, you hate Zoro, the sun sets, you still hate Zoro.

But why?

“Well, I understand your need for my company, I'm great. But I realised that I get the short end of the stick in this deal. Your company sucks.”

He grins smugly and leans against the same wall you're leaning on. “You can bet that nothing about me is short, Menace.”

The blush that flushes your cheeks is completely involuntary, and you blame it on the solo beer you had one hour ago. You don't want to think about the thing that's not short on Zoro right now, thank you very much.

“You're forgetting your temper. Your temper’s short.”

“Yet no disbelief about what I'm implying… Interesting.”

You scoff. “I'm actually a ‘I'll believe it when I see it’ kind of gal, but in this case, Roronoa, I'll take your word for it.”

This has got to be the most civil conversation you've had in years, even if it's full of innuendo and little jabs. What's changing?

“You don't have to.” The red cup freezes on the way to your lips for a moment before you catch your breath. “I mean, I've got you all to myself. I can show you what else is big.”

Is he joking? You turn your face slightly to the side so you can glare at him and that infuriating smirk that usually makes your blood boil with anger is now looking devastatingly striking.

“Jeez, Menace, wipe that hungry look from your face. I'm talking about my collector’s edition swords.”

Shit.

“Fuck you, Zoro.”

-*-

The next half-hour is spent in your bathroom, slapping cold water on your face and giving your reflection a freaking pep talk. What the hell is wrong with you today? It's fucking Zoro! Insufferable Zoro! Hateful Zoro!

Protective Zoro… Hot Zoro…

The hell! Enough!

You splash more water on your face, open the door, and abruptly leave your bedroom, only to bump into your second chest of the night. Maybe you should watch where you're going.

“What are you doing here?” You both say, at the exact same time. “I was in my bathroom.”

Shit! Zoro's room is across from yours, so it's pretty plausible that he was there. Your eyes search his face, and he looks a bit frazzled. There are still droplets of water around the edges of his hair which makes you wonder if he was doing the same thing as you were.

But that has to mean that he's been feeling this weird too.

“What if I kissed you right now? Would you stop me?”

Fuck.

“God, I can't stand the sight of you, just go away, Zoro!” You say, anger boiling in your veins again, except this time, the anger is directed at yourself.

“I thought we might have one night of normalcy around here, since I saved your ass from Rob Lucci’s stinking paws twice today! But nooo!” Zoro bares his teeth your way, and this right here, this feeling of hatred you're used to. It feels right. It's normal. You crave it.

“Leave my ass out of your mouth, Zoro! My ass is just fine as it is!”

Zoro takes a stride forward, trapping you between his body and your bedroom door.

“Your ass needs some spanking, that's what it needs!” You blush and part your lips in surprise, but you can't hide the hunger in your eyes at his words. His hands slam against the door beside your face and you bite your lip to suppress a very embarrassing moan of need. “You think you can behave like a little brat with me?” Zoro lans forward, his lips brushing your earlobe, and you struggle to breathe. “I just want to fuck that atitude right out of you, Menace.”

You swear your knees turn to jelly. Either that, or the heat pooling in your abdomen has completely leaked through your panties and drained you weak. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You want him. You need him. But you're not going to be easy.

“I'd like to see you try, asshole.” You sounded convincing in your head, but to your ears, your voice came out so sultry that you might as well have said: oh, please take me mighty Zoro.

Whatever got you laid right now.

A dark flash of hunger passes through Zoro's eyes just before he laces his fingers through your hair and tugs hard. You keep your mouth firmly closed because there's no way you're going to easily let him indulge in your wanton moans. But fuck it, that felt good.

Another second is all it takes before he leans down and takes your lips in his. The kiss is everything but gentle. It's hard, bruising, demanding. Full of hunger and burning flames, consuming everything in its path. He tugs your hair, you dig your nails into his shoulders; he bites your lip, you bite his tongue. It's a battle of wits and wills, and there's no way in hell you're losing this.

Zoro's hand feels the door until it finds the doorknob and he turns it. Your weight was supported by the door, so you find yourself falling backwards, until Zoro's big hands clasp your ass, lifting you effortlessly from the ground and avoiding your fall.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you turn your moan into a rough grunt before it embarrasses you, because Zoro was right. He's not short on anything and his not-short-anything is pressed against your core, throbbing.

“Fuck.” You mutter, involuntarily as you bite Zoro's lower lip hard, and he enters your bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

“I told you it was big.”

“Fucking showoff.”

He slaps your ass hard, making you gasp. And damn, you want him to do it again. “Language, Menace. Behave.” With a primal grunt that travels straight into your cunt, he slams you against the door, making you wince. Then he sets you down as his hands begin to fumble with the zipper on your dress. But he's impatient and horny, so he just rips it apart.

“Shit! Asshole, that was one of my favourite dresses.” You admonish him between pants. That was freaking hot. His lips glue themselves to your neck, and he takes a hard bite.

“Shut up, I'll buy you another one.” Then he starts to remove the shreds of the dress from you.

“I'd like to know where all this money came from, you broke bastard.” You huff and rip the buttons off his shirt as payback for the dress.

“Watch it!” He grumbles. But then clothes start flying. His jeans come off, and so does your bra. He doesn't give a shit about the way he rips your panties, and you just yank his briefs out of the way as well. Fuck it. You really got the long and thick end of the stick.

“That's not going to fit.” You mumble, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“Afraid, Menace?” He gloats with a hint of pride, and you scoff at him.

“As if.” And then you're all over each other again. Teeth clacking against each other, lips bruising, and nails scratching. It's primal and raw, and everything you could want or need at this moment.

With a swift movement, Zoro lifts you up mid-kiss and sends you flying into the middle of the bed. Your body may be bouncing on the bed, but your heart is hammering away in your chest.

“Get on all fours.” He commands as he opens drawers, looking for a condom.

“There.” You point at the dresser, and he follows your directions. “And fuck you. I don't take your orders.” You growl.

Zoro grabs a condom from the drawer and paces to you in all his naked glory. The unhinged smirk on his lips both sends a cold shiver down your spine and feeds the burning flame in your core.

He kneels on the bed next to you and flips you over as if you weighed nothing, manhandling you into the position he wants. You let out a yelp as your face gets buried against the pillows. Then his hands grab your hips and pull your ass into the air, leaving you bare and exposed for him.

“Ass up, Menace. I want to take a good look at you.”

A rush of heat courses through your body and flushes your cheeks as you use your elbows to try to rise into a less undignified position, but Zoro grabs your arms and pins them behind your back. Then he lays out a good slap on your buttcheek, and you cry out in surprise.

“I'm going to spank the little brat out of you in no time. I've had it with your attitude.” He growls, leaning over your back, and you can already feel slick coating your thighs. But you'll be damned if you're going to lose this unspoken battle of wits.

“Do your worst, asshole.”

Zoro chuckles low and lands another slap on the other side. He doesn't ease the sting, he just lets it burn on the skin, but this time you don't make another sound other than your heavy breathing.

“Look at you, all wet for me already. Aren't you a needy little thing? Pretending you don't want me, and now, look at you.” Zoro places two fingers inside your slit, and they slide right in. It feels so good you just want to explode.

You force your eyes closed as you bite down on the pillow, trying to stifle your moans. You're not going to give him the satisfaction.

“I know you want me. I know you're loving this, Menace. Look at how well you take my fingers.” He inserts a third finger, and you shudder. A rippling cry threatens to escape you, but you clamp it down tight.

“You like this, don't you? You're just being too fucking stubborn to admit. But I've got all night, Menace. I can play with you. And once I'm finished, you'll be as docile as a little bunny.”

Zoro strokes your clit and circles it languorously. You're so wet that the squelches your pussy makes are embarrassingly unholy. Can you come without moaning loudly? Can you contain yourself?

“Oh, God, fuck!” Zoro's tongue feels like nothing else. It's hot and long, and it curves just right as it enters you at the same time as he pinches your swollen nub. You almost unravel just from that.

“There's no God here, little Menace. It's all me.” He speaks to your cunt, and you can't help another shudder and groan. Fuck it, you're about to come, and you don't care if you're going to moan your heart out.

“I'm… almost…”

A ragged breath parts your lips before you drown it with a heavy groan and a curse. Zoro stops.

“What the hell, Zoro?”

He turns you onto your back with a rough shove and stares at you with the biggest fucking shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

“I want to hear you beg for release.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am.” Zoro bends your legs and places the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing you, taunting you. God, you want him inside you so badly. “Is this what you want?”

“Shit, yes, Zoro, just put it in.” Banging your fists in frustration against the bed only makes him smirk harder.

“Make. Me.” He mimics your words from before, and you grit your teeth. The fucking asshole. Then you free your legs from his hold, grab his shoulders, and pull him down so you can take his lips in a bruising kiss, yanking his hair in the process and hooking your legs around his waist.

With a movement of your hand, you align his tip with your hole, but as you're about to push your body against his, he places his hands on your hips and stills you, still taking your tongue against his mouth until you back away, gasping for air.

“Fuck, Zoro!” You say, frustrated, and just as you're about to let out another string of curses, he thrusts all the way in, bottoming out and stealing all the air from your lungs.

Your head falls back in abandon, and the first wanton moan escapes you unwillingly as your cunt fights to stretch and accommodate his size.

“Menace! What the fuck. That fucking pretty noise. I want to hear it again.” His voice rings low and clipped. He's breathing hard, and his digits bruise the flesh of your hips. He thrusts again, but you keep your lips sealed, even though it's the best feeling in the whole world and you've never felt this full. “Moan for me. Break apart, little Menace. I'm going to fucking ruin you.”

He thrusts again and again and again. His hands grope and squeeze, and then they abuse your nipples, pinching and flicking and bringing you near insanity. You're there. Right there. You just need another–...

“No! Zoro! Shit!” Tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes as he stops once again, right when you're on the verge of climax.

“Beg.”

“Fuck off.”

Zoro leans you to the side and slaps your ass again, making you curl your toes. “Beg.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A whimper, the smallest of noises, leaves your mouth as you squirm under his hold. He's all the way inside you, but he's not moving. And it's torture.

“Please…” You let out without looking him in the eyes.

“Please what, Menace? I can't hear you.” He pulls out and fills you again, slowly, so, so slowly. “Have you lost all the fight in you?”

“Fuck me, Zoro! Fuck me hard. Make me come, I need to come, please!” A litany of prayers and pleas leave your lips, and Zoro's smirk is smug, but there's a hint of something in his eyes very similar to warmth that you don't quite want to acknowledge.

“That's my good girl.” He pulls you higher, hooking his hands under your ass and lifting it so he can fuck you with the perfect angle to hit your G-spot. And fuck it if he doesn't get it right as he resumes his thrusts. Two hard thrusts are all it takes before you lose yourself.

Your thighs clench around him as you grip the sheets hard. A mountain of pleasure releases its avalanche upon you, and you moan and mewl without care or bother. Fuck it, you can beg Zoro all night if he makes you feel this good.

“That's it, pretty girl. Let it all out for me.” Zoro rambles and picks up his brutal pace, flipping you over and raising your ass in the air again. Your brain is too addled and hazed to comprehend what's going on, and the ease with which he manhandles you makes you dizzy. “I want to hear it again.”

He grunts as he pounds relentlessly into you, bruising your cervix and slapping your aching ass again.

“Zoro! Yes, harder!” You can feel sweat in the palms of Zoro's hand as he slides one up your back, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling you toward him. His other hand finds your oversensitive clit, and he pinches, making you come again and again. It's a relentless torrent of pleasure that makes you cry out his name between pants and moans.

You barely notice as Zoro clamps down his teeth against your shoulder and shudders into his own release, squeezing you against him. Your bodies slick with sweat and limp with exhaustion.

As you fall forward, struggling to regain your breath, Zoro gets up to rid himself of the used condom and opens your mini fridge, bringing a water bottle with him. He hands it to you before lying down with a sigh.

What the fuck just happened?

“That was a good fuck, Menace.” He admits with another shit-eating grin. Hell yes, it was. He hit spots you didn't even know were possible to hit. You felt pleasure like never before, and damn it all, you might be addicted with just the first hit of the drug that's Roronoa Zoro.

“Shit, Zoro. If I knew you were this damn good, we could've been doing this for a while.”

He chuckles, and you laugh. This might be the first time you both shared a real laugh since you were kids.

“Are you up for round two?” He asks, and you glance down. Sure enough, his monstrous cock is already saluting you in all its glory.

“Hell yeah. You did pay for my company, Roronoa.”

What changed? Maybe you, maybe him? You can't be quite sure. But maybe it's not quite hate you feel about him at this moment. Because hate burns, but what you two have melts. It's deeper than that.

And this time around, Zoro takes time to soothe the bruised skin of your hips with a little caress. He kisses the red welts he left on your ass cheeks, and his thrusts are less bruising and demanding.

What changed?

Your feelings. That's what it was.

Fuck.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #reader insert #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #you x zoro #zoro x you #reader x zoro

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kazutora-kurokawa · 5 months ago

Note

Hello! If requests are open, may I submit a request for yandere baji with an reckless s/o (Cross the street like she has 9 lives, talks to strangers unprompted AND lowkey tends to attract weirdos bc she wants to be nice to everyone but doesn't release that not everyone is nice?)

(I apologise if my request was too specific. Have a nice day!)

Yandere!Baji x Reckless!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, violence (not against reader), Baji being a menace per usual ♡

note: pls don't apologize, I love when people are specific with requests (I can't follow bare bones instructions because I lack comprehension sometimes lmao)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🔥 This man has to watch your every move before you get yourself killed

🔥 Holds your hand when you walk across the street because you just dart into traffic like an idiot

🔥 Reminds you not to talk to strangers who look shady and gets frustrated when you don't listen to him and proceed to be nice to anyone who talks to you. He has had to murder so many people you approach (some for no real reason but you obviously won't find that out anyway)

🔥 He doesn't trust you with sharp objects like knives or scissors because you tend to fling them around when you hold them and have probably almost stabbed him before

🔥 He can't even trust you in the kitchen period because you and the stove don't mix well, he came home once to you almost burning the kitchen down 😑

"I was gone for ten minutes...what the hell could've happened in ten minutes?!"

🔥 Sometimes he wonders how easy life would be if he just locks you away somewhere, but he knows you'd still probably end up hurting yourself

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #baji x reader #baji fluff #baji headcanons #yandere baji #yandere x reader #best boyfriend alert ‼️

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!!! I have simple request if you don’t mind how about drunk Hobie with y/n…I wanna see how you would write their dynamic cause I love your writing <3

Thank you for requesting, lovely! 💛

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, drinking, cw vomit, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up groggily to the telephone ringing loudly inside your shared bedroom. With one eye open, you blindly reach for the receiver, hand bumping all over the mess that is your bedside table. Bringing the phone to your ear, face squished on the pillow, sleep still clinging to your lashes.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N? It's Ned” you wake up in a flash, mind already flashing to Hobie or his friends having some sort of emergency during their weekly get together. Is there a fire? Did someone get alcohol poisoning? Is he okay?

“Come get your man. He's gonna get kicked out with how loud the fucker is right now. The owner’s staring daggers at him”

Sure enough, there's a loud booming laughter in the background and what sounds to be glass shattering. Ned's swirling his words together but sober enough to put together a cohesive sentence. But definitely not drunk enough to handle his friends' shenanigans.

“Oh shit! Please hurry, he's telling everyone that he's Spider-Man, what a weirdo.” there's a rustling sound then the phone falls, banging on the wall briefly. There's fast footsteps and a muffled, “Hobie! Christ, that's your third fucking glass!”

There's roaring laughter, and an unmistakable voice. “Who you callin’? The coppers? You're no fun anymore, Neddy”

The dial tone ends and you're already putting on your trainers, taking your keys, wallet and coat. You don't even bother changing out of your pajamas, they look presentable enough, right?

The train ride was awkward. You in your pajamas, hair disheveled, and mismatched socks. Good thing there weren't a lot of commuters this late or the staring would actually get to you. There was an awkward silence when you stepped inside, but with you staring right back at them with your sleep deprived eyes, they looked away immediately.

You practically ran to the white horse pub, the party was in full swing, people with sloshing pints in hand and men drunkenly trying to walk straight. Hugging your coat closer, you tie them closed, scanning the pub for the familiar figure.

Spotting Hobie halfway up the table with Ned trying to drag him off, his laughs would make you giggle if not for him being so inebriated, chugging an entire pint while his other friends cheer him on, banging on tables and guffawing over the already loud pub. A friend you've recognized before joins him on the table, finishing his own pint. Hobie eggs him on with him tipping his friend's pint closer to the man's lips, while chanting: you can do it, mate!

The wood wobbles and you quickly make your way towards him. Ned sighs in relief, you smile apologetically before he changes course for the other friend on the table, almost tackling him off it.

You hold onto his leather jacket in an attempt to balance him. He usually has great balance but you don't completely trust his coordination.

“Hobie!” You yell through the loud chatter of the pub. The owner watches on in your peripheral, “Sorry, Joe! I'll get him home!”

“You better! Your boy's a menace, he's been inciting everyone on his little drinking game”

“Isn't that good? People are buying more booze?”

“Don't push it, love. That's the only reason why I'm not gonna make him pay for the broken glasses”

You wince, “sorry about those” He grunts, waving off.

Tugging at his jacket, you call his name again. Hobie finally looks down, eyes flicking from your hands to your face. You'd expect him to greet you with a smile or even drop down and hug you, instead, he swats your hands away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

You blink in surprise, bewildered at his actions. “Hey! Hobie!”

“What?” he folds his knees to level with you, his eyes blinking a little too quickly, head tilted, hands on his knees for extra balance.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I'm here to take you home. You're too drunk” you hold his hand, tugging him down on the table.

“And you're too bloody handsy” he flings your hand away. “I'm–” he blinks slowly, trying to get his bearings. “I'm have a girl back home, yeah? Don't” Hobie pokes your forehead.

You get cross eyed, a minute ago you'd thought he was just a little too drunk, the kind of drunk where you're wobbly on your feet, now you know he definitely can't see straight. You decide to play along, just so you can tease him in the morning.

“Oh” you bring your hands on your chest in a mock surprise. “Didn't know that, so sorry”

“No harm, but she–she would…could throw hands if she saw you grope me like that”

Grope? “I wasn't– you know what, tell me more about her. She sounds nice”

Hobie beams at you, a resemblance of what he would usually look like once he sees you in a crowded room. He sits on the table like you just asked a child what his favourite dinosaur is.

“She– she's sooo good to me, y’know” you nod, biting your lip to stop a giddy laugh from escaping. “I told her that I was Spiderman and y’know what she did?!” He excitedly yells, good thing no one here actually believes his drunk ramblings or else the entire pub would know that they're currently drinking with spiderman himself.

“No, what did she do?” you smile, eyes twinkling under the dim lights of the pub.

“She said she loves me! And and” he gestures excitedly. “Supports me! Isn't that fuckin' amazing?!” Hobie sighs longingly. “I miss her, I wish she was here. She'd probably bonk me on the head with how much I've drunk though.” He trails off, his eyes glassy. “I should go home”

“Yeah, you should” you slowly inch closer to him. “Hey, babe?”

“Yes, lovie?” Hobie does a double take, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Lovie!” He tackles you in for a hug. His face snuggling closer to your neck. You rub his back, giggling.

Now you're the one struggling to balance. “I miss you too” you kiss his temple. “Let's go home before you let out anymore of your secrets”

You would have struggled more if you brought him to the tube, luckily enough, you found a cab within five minutes of waiting (and wrangling) with Hobie.

After a round of goodbyes from his equally drunk friends, you finally got him inside the taxi. The driver clicks his tongue at another drunk passenger.

“He better not get sick all over my seats” the driver says gruffly.

“He won't, don't worry” you say with a fake smile.

“I think ‘m gonna be sick.” Hobie opens the car window, letting the cool air in.

“Please don't” you whisper to him, patting his back affectionately whilst you smile at the glaring driver so he doesn't kick you out.

After a car ride that seemed endless and one throw up outside the flat, you're both finally home. Getting him up the stairs was more of a struggle, he wobbled on his feet, almost tumbling off the staircase, if not for you clinging to him he would most definitely fall. Once inside the bedroom, he groans, leaning his entire body on you. Arms enclosed around your shoulders, head lolling to the side.

Hobie drops like a sack of potatoes on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You land on top as he traps you in his embrace.

“You're so good to me” he murmurs against the crown of your head.

“Mm-hmm, so I've been told” you cuddle closer, not minding the smell of alcohol.

“Because it's true” Hobie places a sticky kiss on your head then folding his neck just to reach your temple.

“You're gonna regret this in the morning” you help him in attacking your face by leaning over him, your elbows on the side of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His hands skim over to your waist, holding you securely.

“I'll never” kiss “ever” kiss “regret” kiss “snogging you”

You laugh from the belly with every peck he leaves on your skin. “I know that, I’m talking about you drinking too much”

Hobie pauses, eyes narrowed from tiredness, lips still pursed together. “Ah that, sorry” he apologizes for his future self even though he would most definitely say it in the morning when you hand him some meds and lots of fluids.

“We'll talk about it once you're sober and without a banging headache. Rest, I'll take care of you” kissing his nose, you leave his side to grab fresh clothes for him to change into.

Before you completely leave, Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Love you, thank you” You let him bring your knuckles up to his lips, he sighs.

“Love you too, I think you're about to have the worst morning tomorrow” you chuckle, leaning closer to his touch like a planet orbiting its sun.

“With you, it won't be”

“You get cheesy when you're drunk” kissing the tip of his nose, you leave again, turning away, earning a grunt of disapproval from Hobie.

“I hate to see you go but I love watching you leave!” he says with gusto.

You should've brought a video camera with you when you were in the pub.

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giorno-plays-piano · 1 year ago

Text

Trustworthy

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: noncon, implied stalking, home invasion, smut, Toji being a part of a gang.

Words: 1k

Summary: How could you walk up to Toji Fushiguro, of all people? Him, the embodiment of trouble? Naturally, you had no idea who he was, just seeing him exiting a supermaket with a bag of food, but you should have had a better look at his menacing form and seen the way he carried himself to figure out he was NOT the person you were looking for.

_____________

"Feels good, baby?" He whispers into you ear, his bulging muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat as you squirm beneath him, his cock fully sheathed inside you.

His broad frame blocks the dim light coming from a single table lamp somewhere behind, and you are forced to stare into his piercing eyes as he keeps thrusting into you ruthlessly, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Toji bares his teeth in a smirk, and it feels like a shark opens its maw in front of you.

You can't run away. You're stuck beneath him with your head in between his hands pressed into the mattress, and you're stuffed full. He knows you can't even move, and you think it brings Toji some sort of sadistic pleasure as he looks at you with hunger, pupils dilated.

"You can't say no to me," he whispers almost gently into your ear, and you feel your insides twitching. "You can never say no, pretty girl."

Squeezing your eyes shut when he hits that spongy spot inside you, you murmur his name and bite your lips to shreds as Toji lets out a breathy laugh. Bastard. Has he planned it the moment you had spoken to him, asking for his help while he pretended to help you out?

You were so blind. Sure, you didn't know you moved into a not-so-safe area in a city farther away from your hometown until you had to go back to your new home late for the first time. Scared of every shadow, you were desperately seeking help from anyone who could safely walk you home. How could you walk up to Toji Fushiguro, of all people? Him, the embodiment of trouble? Naturally, you had no idea who he was, just seeing him exiting a supermaket with a bag of food, but you should have had a better look at his menacing form and seen the way he carried himself to figure out he was NOT the person you were looking for.

But how could you have known? He had such a commanding presence, his chest a solid shield of strength, that you momentarily thought he would scare weirdos just with his looks alone. Moreover, he seemed too unfazed and relaxed for you to consider him malicious. You thought he was just a man of formidable build who might give you a hand and walk you home. It would have only taken 10 minutes.

Toji did walk you home, actually. He exuded an aura of undeniable authority but was impassive enough for you to feel safe around him, and you were really grateful to him for accompanying you, some woman he didn't even know. He said it was fine, grunting you shouldn't have been out that late at night.

"Take a pepper spray with you next time," he hemmed, watching you enter your apartment and waving to you before he left, too.

Miraculously, you did see him the next time you were out late just a week after. To be fair, it wasn't your fault: your new colleagues decided they needed to take you to their weekly outing on Friday, and you couldn't refuse. Although you did carry a pepper spray that time just like he had recommended, it was still such a relief to see Toji walking out of a gym you almost rushed to him, feeling very self-conscious about asking him for help for the second time.

He didn't refuse you that time either, walking you back home like he was your giant guard dog. You couldn't stop saying thank you.

Since Friday outings of your colleagues were pretty much an ordinary thing, you ended up walking next to that broad-shouldered, menacing man with a heart of gold so many times you almost considered him a friend.

He was a stranger who had been keeping you safe for so many nights without any reason. You felt secure only because of Toji, and you couldn't help but gravitate towards him: his deep, commanding tone, the way he conveyed confidence in every aspect of his demeanor just made you drawn to him to the point you started seeking his guidance and approval. Considering how smug Toji was being about it, you thought he actually liked you looking at him with awe.

It's funny he is exactly the type you have always been afraid of when walking the streets at night. The infamous Toji Fushiguro, a former marine who chose a different road after his dishonorable discharge from the military. The man your neighbors recognize all too well and keep away from at any given moment.

You didn't know until you found a little note in front of your door right when Toji walked you home one last time. You were stupid enough to read it with him peaking behind your shoulder.

And here you are, with his cock pulsating in you as he sweetly whispers into your ear, "Don't tell me you didn't want it."

You did. You did want him before you discovered who he is. Who wouldn't? Toji seemed like a man every girl dreamed of, strong but sensible, sarcastic and yet respectful. If he ever touched you, you felt a jolt of electricity running through your body, and you couldn't stop yourself from wondering what it would feel like to be kissed by him, touched by him.

You know now.

"Toji, it hurts," you whine, squeezing your eyes shut again as he tuts, dropping a kiss to your brow.

"It'll get better," he exhales into your face before his hand lands on your stomach, and you freeze, afraid he's gonna hurt you. "Here, feel me."

His palm is large and warm and feels wonderful on your skin, and when he stops and slowly starts massaging your tummy, you can't help but love every second of it. He's drawing circles with his hand, and it makes you melt, makes you soft and pliable and unable to think as you squirm, enjoying his touch much more than you should. What is he doing to you? Does he even care if it hurts?

Toji takes your hand in his, placing it on your tummy and applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel him inside of you, and you suddenly come undone, watching him smiling at you, his hungry eyes gleaming in the dark as you cum, whispering his name. He groans and stills, dark brows drawn together, as your pussy squeezes him tight. Then he starts rubbing your tummy again, drawing a sigh from you.

"You're safe, baby girl," he mutters, his face inches from yours. "If you're with me, you'll always be safe."

________

Tags: @minshookie29

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #yandere #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

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karlachismylife · 1 month ago

Text

Wanting To Hold You

I actually wanted to keep the whole 10 prompts as reader asking for a kiss and characters responding, but man, I just couldn't pass an opportunity to make Ghost beg. Desperation looks good on a man :)

CW: gn!reader, reader is a tease and a menace (lovingly), Ghost is touch-starved and absolutely whipped, a tiny bit suggestive. Johnny makes an unforgettable appearance.

(Title from "Open Arms" by Jorney, which is kinda Ghost coded imo. as any song about a man horrendously in love is)

Simon Riley is a menace. That's no news flash, you've known that since that very first time you saw his looming figure in a mask that only a certain kind of person can pull off without seeming like a total weirdo or clown, and Ghost is (usually) neither of those. Spending five minutes in a conversation with him only confirms for anyone that Simon is, indeed, a menace, and that you just have to accept that fact and bear with his rich persona if you want to have any business with him at all.

If you want to get close to him, you're bound to love that he's a menace.

And you do.

But no one ever said you can't be a menace in return. Especially when Simon gets too full of himself, basking in the feeling of always getting his way, now that he's a mountain of a man with a death stare and according reputation, not a trapped and tormented shell of a young boy watching helplessly his world turn to hell.

No harm in giving him a taste of his own medicine. Not after he had been particularly demanding last few days, refusing to let you out of bed in the mornings and clinging to you throughout breakfast and your preparations for work. It's the rain, you know it makes him needy, foggy head focused only on getting his arms full of someone warm and soft, smelling nice too.

No need to make you late for work, though. Having a cuddle monster in your apartment doesn't impress your boss as a valid reason, you know.

That's how you find yourself playing with the black blazing flame that Ghost is, dancing around him all night - you have his whole team over for an obligatory football game and a satisfying, fat dinner everyone contributes to. Wearing his surname on your back, draped in big, possessive letters of his old T-shirt, you flutter around, slapping his fingers away mercilessly as he tries to get into the dessert ahead of everything else. With a stern look, you make a point out of licking the spoon - rightfully his spoon, the one he always gets to clean with his tongue - clean so he gets nothing, except Johnny's mocking laugh as he watches his Lieutenant stand in front of the kitchen counter with a dumbfounded, almost pouting look.

"Behave, or I'll give your second portion to Johnny," you add to the insult with a devilish smile, passing Simon as if his big, brown, betrayed eyes aren't pulling on every string your soul has.

"Fat bastard will fookin' burst if ya let him 'ave three!" Your little plan would've gone to shit if Simon managed to grab you around your waist and pull in for a kiss as reparations for the dessert spoon denial, but that's why you shamelessly drag Soap into this mess too: as soon as Simon barks out his accusation, Johnny scoffs loudly and retorts.

While they're bickering over your casserole slowly baking ready, you successfully escape the kitchen to visit Kyle and John, who are busy with setting dinner table and listening to the pregame commentary on TV.

"At each other's throats again, are they?" Kyle's chuckle betrays no surprise as you nod happily, putting a cool beer bottle in his hand and earning a playful kiss on your knuckles.

"Muppets gonna burn our food if they keep tha' up," grumbles Price, munching on a stolen cucumber slice - since he is not the one who's getting your revenge tonight, you simply move the little plate closer to him and sit down, relaxing. Having four additional pairs of capable hands makes dinner nights much easier, so you enjoy your time lounging with your man's Captain and Sergeant until it's time to start.

It feels almost cruel to touch-starve Simon, with pretend innocence sliding your palm from under his when he wraps his fingers around yours out of habit between eating - you're not doing this out of malice, of course, you just want to pass Kyle some pepper or move a glass pitcher out of Johnny's way before he tips it over. Your thighs don't touch under the table, and when all five of you move to the living room to watch the game with whatever everyone grabs - snacks, beer, tea and dessert (you let Simon has his seconds, even though his eyes bore into you with silent indication it's not pudding he's craving already) - you sit next to him.

Not in his lap, like his wide stance implies.

First half of the game Simon seems to watch you more than football, drilling a burning hole in your skull, slght frown forming between his blond eyebrows. Are you angry with him? Did he fuck up? Somehow managed to forget an important date, even though they're all branded into his brain? Promised to run some errand and forgot? Left the goddamn toilet seat up, even though he's always the one who watches it when his teammates are over, since Johnny manages to forget every single time?

But you don't look angry, that's the problem. Neither do you seem upset or uncomfortable. After all, you would tell him if you were.

You're simply denying him what he wants, and Simon fucking Riley cannot wrap his stubborn head around this turn of events.

You don't think you can withhold your affection much longer by the end of the game: Simon looks positively unhappy, grumpy and gloomy, as he ditches the aftergame smoke and argument with the boys and follows you into the kitchen, a silent shadow on a mission to get what he wants one way or the other.

His burly arms wrap around your waist as you throw some napkins away, and you smile triumphantly.

"Everything okay, big boy?" Your cheerfulness is a bit too much, and Simon makes a miserable noise in response, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, mangled lips pressing urgent kisses to your skin, trailing along your jawline - you have to wiggle away quickly, turning around in his big embrace and leaning back against the counter with a fake question in your eyes.

"C'mon, lovie, I jus' wanna kiss ya, c'mere, eh?" He leans in and you finally drop the act, stopping him directly, with your fingers over his mouth.

The look he gives you is priceless. Sheer disbelief mixed with need, a little kid watching Santa snatch the last cookie off the plate and devour it with no crumbs left to share.

"Then ask me nicely for a kiss, Si," you purr, and that sweet smile you give him - bloody hell, you look so proud of your mischief, a naughty child yourself, unable to conceal your excitement over having him beg.

He won't. Simon Riley doesn't beg, he takes what he wants or accepts defeat with head held high. If that's the game you're playing, he'll just have to accept the rules and starve you in return, until it's you who's crawling to him for a single snuggle and smooch.

That's what he wants to think, but you stick out your lips just a little, a condescending look on your face - you've caused him to be this pent up over a bloody kiss and you dare to look at him as if you're pitying him! - and he's gone.

"How nice do I 'ave to be, lovie?" His poor throat constricted to the point of rasping.

Fucking putty in your hands, he is.

You pretend to think, a picture with your finger rubbing your chin, before you finally run your hand over Simon's nape, tugging on his outgrown hair to pull him even closer and whisper:

"Ask very nicely, hm?"

There's still a flicker of that fire you're playing with in his eyes - oh, he'll get back at you for sure. When his knees stop buckling and his spine becomes firm and rigid, not soft and pliant under your touch.

Simon Riley kneels before you in your kitchen, smelling of casserole, pudding and beer, and folds his arms behind his back, catching his own elbows in his big palms. Nothing to tie him down aside your words, he isn't worried his teammates might see him like this in the slightest.

"Please, lovie. Can I have a kiss? I've missed you the whole evening."

You're a goner just like him once he looks up at you with his big, hooded eyes - primal need and actual hint of blues just from several hours without your healing touch.

"That was very nice. Maybe you should do that more often," you exhale, attempts to keep yourself in check futile, and lean forward, cupping his face for a kiss, longing lips pressing and sucking through rapid, needy huffs of breaths, Simon's arms still bound by his will behind his back so you can push and pull him any way you want - the only plea he mouths silently into the needy tangling of your mouths is to not let go a little longer.

Johnny's never been as silent as when he walked in on Simon moaning into your lips at a simple tug on his hair.

#juju's love is illegal celebration #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #cod fluff #ghost fluff #fluff #oneshot

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bumblebeehug · 2 months ago

Text

A Way Into Your Heart

Summary: After a friendly night out, Natsu and Lucy connect under the street lights. Notes: I just wanted to write about them kissing. I have no other excuse for not writing on my last nalu week fanfic - I just wanted them to smooch for ten pages, so that's what I did! Ao3

***

Lucy was feeling hot. She was currently mushed between a fire dragon slayer and a very sweaty Ichya at the bar. The Fairy Tail guild had been invited to yet another event that they didn't deserve to go to. Even if they helped save Christina from getting destroyed by enemies, the town beneath the flying ship hadn't been as lucky. Still, Blue Pegasus were persistent that they had to thank Fairy Tail, so here they all were, crammed into a semi big pub in the outskirts of Magnolia, drinking and celebrating yet another victory.

"You okay?" Natsu leaned towards Lucy and whispered in her ear. The blast of hot air made Lucy sweat.

"It's weird that he doesn't smell bad," Lucy complained, adding a slight nod towards Ichya. As she glanced towards him she noticed that he was flaring his nostrils and bending towards her. She could only cringe. "He's smelling me…"

Natsu poked his head forward and gave Ichya a menacing stare. Sadly, Ichya was far too drunk to care. When Natsu's tactic to scare him away didn't work, he slid off the bar stool and pulled Lucy away.

"That creep," he muttered, placing a protective arm over Lucy's shoulders. "How hasn't he gotten locked up yet?"

Lucy let out a small giggle.

"It's not against the law to be weird. Plus, he's dating my great grandmother, he can't be that crazy."

Natsu huffed in response.

"Don't brag 'bout having a weirdo family tree."

Lucy stuck out her tongue. No matter how close they got, or how long their friendship lasted, Natsu would never stop calling her that. She wouldn't be surprised if he wrote R.I.P. Weirdo on her headstone one day.

On another note, Lucy was craving a new drink. She had only gotten halfway on her previous one since Natsu pulled her away, so after some coercion she got him to pay for her new one.

"I'll get us some seats," she said, pushing him back towards the bar, along with a small prayer that he wouldn't get carried away and confront Ichya. That could only lead to the fire alarm going off, best case, or worst, the bar turning into ashes, which would definitely ruin the festive mood. After scanning the tables she noticed a table for two where one guy had fallen asleep. The many empty beer glasses in front of him indicated that his night out was coming to an end. Lucy threaded over to him, careful not to bump into anyone with a drink in their hand. A sticky dress wasn't pleasant.

"Excuse me, sir?" Lucy spoke loudly in hope that he hadn't fallen asleep just yet. After a couple of pokes he finally looked at her. "Sir, could my friend and I use this table?"

The man looked like he was going through the worst kind of drunk — the kind where he'll wake up the next morning in a bush with his pants halfway down, wondering why his lip is hurting and soon learning that some other drunk guy tried to pierce it with a safety pin. He had left a puddle of drool on the table in front of him, and it was obvious that Lucy's words didn't connect. They had gone in through one ear and out the other. Still, she tried again, being sure to keep her distance, just in case.

"Could we have this table?" She shouted this time, finally hearing her own voice over the myriad of others. That seemed to go through to the man as well.

"Y-yearh…" he slurred, slowly standing up from the chair, knocking down multiple glasses in the process. Good thing they were plastic and not glass. "Hu… here ya' go sweetie…"

Lucy smiled politely as thanks. She wasn't exactly scared of drunk people — most of them were quite kind, and she knew that if anything were to happen, she'd have two guilds and all her spirits to back her up. Still, she preferred to not start a commotion. Natsu didn't have a reputation for staying calm and collected when people bothered her.

Luckily the guy left before Natsu came with the drinks. The table itself was disgusting, but it was nice not having to sit all crammed in between people in the bar. Besides, a waitress was quick to spot them, wiping down the table and bringing the used glasses with her.

"One pornstar martini for you," Natsu said, placing a pretty reddish orange drink in front of her, "and a whiskey on the rocks for me." Lucy smiled brightly.

"Thanks!" She picked up the rounded martini glass and held it up. "Here's a toast then, for a free drink!"

"And for finding a table," Natsu added, picking up his glass as well.

"And for Christina!"

"And toast to another victory for Fairy Tail!"

"Hear hear," Lucy said, giving Natsu's glass a small clink before finally tasting her drink. It was a delicious blend of sweet passion fruit, mixed with vanilla vodka and a splash of lime. She let out a squeak in delight — few things made her happier than an alcoholic drink where she couldn't taste the alcohol. They may be dangerous, but she saw no joy in consuming drinks with that bitter spiciness. "This is delicious! What's it called, did you say?"

"Pornstar martini!" Natsu leaned slightly over the table to ensure that he was heard.

"What a vulgar name…" Lucy muttered under her breath, confirming to Natsu that she had heard him. It sure was convenient that he had that excellent hearing — way less shouting. "How was yours?"

"Pretty good," Natsu said, "wanna taste?"

Lucy couldn't resist the offer. She knew she wouldn't enjoy it herself, but after drinking with Natsu for a few years, she learned that different whiskeys had different tastes. Some were quite sweet and fruity, others had nutty notes. With a tiny sip from this glass, she learned that he had gotten his favourite kind — the one with spicy and smoky notes. She made a face.

"Bleh! It's your type of drink, alright," she confirmed, sticking out her tongue to lessen the strong taste. The most she could enjoy whiskey was if it was as a highball or a whiskey sour — she avoided straight on the rocks as the plague. Luckily, she always had Natsu to drink them for her if she was served any.

"What an ugly face!" Natsu laughed, snickering at her scrunched facial expression.

"It's unnatural to be calm after drinking something like that," she countered with a sour face, trying to hide the smile in the corner of her mouth. "At least my drink resembles something edible instead of sharing more similarities with gasoline than a drink." This time Natsu was the one to poke out his tongue.

"Let me taste yours then," he dared her.

"Fine." She slid her drink over, watching him take a sip.

"Too sweet," Natsu said, contorting his face to further prove his point. "It's just sugar! Makes my teeth feel icky."

"It's not just sugar! It's fruity and sour and has that perfect amount of vanilla flavour to it. Don't pride yourself in having uncultured taste buds."

They always ended up bantering like this when they shared drinks, but Lucy found it to be pleasant banter. The kind she remembered when she woke up the next morning, earning a giggle, thinking of all the fun retorts that had been said. She knew that Natsu shared her sentiment, not letting his soft facial expressions go past her. Even when he tried to rile her up by blowing raspberries and feigning annoyed sighs, she could see how his eyes were squinted together into a constant smile. She never felt like she had to second guess their friendship.

Four drinks and three shots later, they decided it was time to head back to Lucy's apartment. Natsu wasn't as much of a lightweight as Lucy, but even he felt the effects from having one too many vanilla vodka shots. Plus, the constant blush on Lucy's face and her jokes that were gradually getting flirtier were enough for Natsu to close the tab for the night.

He stood up from his chair and swiftly helped Lucy up as well. She was still giggling at a joke she had said ten minutes earlier and was swaying like crazy once she stood up. As the pub was still crowded, Natsu held a tight and steady arm around her as they made their way to Makarov and Bob's table. Even though he'd never let anything bad happen on the way home, he felt like it was good to inform them that they were leaving.

"Natsu," Lucy called out, squirming around in his grip around her, trying to face his ear. "Doesn't Master Bob's head look like a chestnut?" She whispered silently, making sure not to be heard by anyone other than him. When her lips accidentally brushed against Natsu's earlobe he felt a violent shiver – a pleasant, but violent shiver throughout his body.

"I wouldn't tell him that though," Natsu answered, leading to a new fit of giggles from Lucy. After all, he agreed with her statement.

After giving the supposed responsible adults a heads up, Natsu could finally lead Lucy out of the premises. The cool night breeze was heavenly after having breathed the same air as at least a hundred other drunkards for hours. Some fresh air was precisely what Lucy seemed to need as well, since she sobered up quite a bit from just stepping outside. She was still clearly loopy, but at least she wasn't laughing like a crazy person anymore.

"Finally, some air!" Lucy exclaimed, stretching the one arm that wasn't glued to Natsu's upper body. He still hadn't let go of her – for all he knew, she could have been too drunk to walk straight. Though as soon as he noticed that that wasn't the case, he lightened his grip around her, settling for resting his arm over her shoulder. That way she wouldn't be out of reach if she stumbled and fell.

"Our friends really know how to party," Natsu said with a big grin. He really loved having fun with everyone – it was an unparalleled bonding experience in his eyes.

"Yeah they do," Lucy giggled, resting her head against Natsu's shoulder. "By the way, who won the shot contest before?"

"Cana 'fcourse."

"But she wasn't in the contest," she puzzled, furrowing her eyebrows in an attempt to piece it all together.

"You think she cared 'bout that?"

"Ah, of course not."

They continued walking in silence for a while. The pub they had been to was on the opposite side of Magnolia, though luckily Lucy's place was pretty much right in the middle. They hadn't walked on this side of Strawberry Street in a long time – last time must have been back when Lucy, Natsu and Happy had just formed a team and Natsu and Happy had taken her sightseeing in the city. Most stores and pubs were between Fairy Tail and Lucy's apartment though, so on this side there were mostly residents. Still, the river was as thrilling as always to a drunk Lucy. She managed to slither her way out of his grip four times, attempting to balance the ledge. Natsu, however, absolutely couldn't let her do that. He wasn't sober enough to tend to her like he usually could, so the risks were too high.

"Come on," she whined after being caught again, giving the o an emphasis. "I've never fallen in, you know that!"

"Yeah well that's 'cus I always catch ya'!"

Before Lucy could slip out of his half embrace for the fifth time, Natsu took a firm grip of her hand. Rough in his motion, he brought their hands up in front of her face, making sure she saw him holding on tightly.

"I'm not letting ya' go this time." His eyebrows weighed heavily on his eyelids as he tried to emphasise his annoyance with her. Of course, he wasn't actually annoyed, but if he looked like he was joking, Lucy would just giggle and continue struggling. He'd gone through this before.

Lucy wasn't blind. She saw the smirk in the corner of his mouth, but she decided to follow his lead this time.

"Fiiine." She quickly stuck out her tongue at him before she looked forward again. They had already gotten quite far, they'd be home in just under ten minutes.

It only took a couple of steps before Natsu softened his grip around Lucy's hand. With the new motion range she'd received, she swiftly changed the position, braiding her fingers into his. Another couple of steps and she felt a soft caress against the back of her hand. Natsu's rough, warm thumb, rhythmically moving. His hand was warm, she noticed. Well, of course it would be. It was Natsu after all. She rarely held colder hands, other than Levy's now and then when they were sharing excitement over a new book arriving in their library. Levy's hands however were small and soft, nothing like Natsu's. She was once again made aware of the fact that he wasn't just another girlfriend she hung out with – he was a man. Broad shoulders, big square hands, feet several sizes bigger than hers. Most days she wore heels, but when they were in her apartment, only socks on their feet, she noticed that she had to bend her neck a little bit further back when talking to him. He wasn't the tallest man, but he was over half a head taller than her.

Even with the cool breeze outside she felt her cheeks getting warm. She'd blame it on the booze if he asked her, but she knew very well that she was getting flustered. Natsu was a really cool guy after all, chiselled features and fierce, fiery eyes.

To distract herself she started swinging their hands. It started out mild, but soon enough she noticed Natsu was in on it and the swinging motion rapidly became comically big. Since Natsu didn't hold back on his strength he almost lifted Lucy up in the air on the upswing.

"Eeeek!" Lucy's high pitched shriek left Natsu in a fit of snickers, though he stopped swinging his arm.

Lucy had to find her balance again. Even if she wasn't wearing her highest heels, the ones she wore were thin and extremely wobbly on the cobblestoned path.

"To think that you'd be the one who would try to throw me in the river, out of all people," she teased, leaning her weight on him.

"Thought ya' wanted the lesson," he countered, leaning back. He couldn't help but love Drunk Lucy's cravings to be physically close. She never declined holding his hand or hugging him when she was tipsy, hell, she usually begged for cuddles. Though, to be fair, he hadn't exactly tried to hold her hand very often while sober, either, so she wasn't the one to blame for that.

Just then Lucy saw a familiar brick wall in the distance, dimly lit up by the sparsely placed street lights surrounding the area.

"Hey, we're home!" She started picking up the pace, eager to wash up and surround herself with her warm blankets. Soon they were in front of the building, and Lucy started digging for her keys in her purse. She just managed to get the key into the door before she turned around to say something to Natsu.

As soon as she spun her head around though, she got stopped in her tracks. Whatever she just wanted to say flew straight out of her head. He looked gorgeous. His hair was a bit messy from the long night, and his usual styled bang was hanging down over his forehead. The light from the street lamp behind him, made his hair lit up like a halo around him. And his face, she couldn't recall a time he had looked at her this softly. His lips were curved into a gentle, mild smile, and his eyes were practically sparkling. For a second it looked like he was going to say something, but it seemed like he had stopped himself mid thought. Instead his head tilted the slightest to its left, gaining an observing gaze. He was thinking of something, and she couldn't quite tell what.

Lucy looked like a puppy, Natsu realised. Her eyes resembled gemstones, glimmering between a deep chestnut colour and a lighter amber tone. He could stare at them all night, though, sooner or later she would probably want to go to sleep. For now though she had this questioning look to her. She was smiling, but her eyebrows were slightly raised, as if she was inviting him to ask her anything – tell her anything. He almost felt dizzy looking at her, her hair was giving this golden sheen, her skin looked airbrushed with that pinkish blush on the apples of her cheeks. She was angelic. Before he had noticed, he was hovering slightly over her. Had he gone a centimetre closer their noses would have bumped together.

Suddenly he got this urge. A question he had to ask her, something he'd never let pass his lips if he had taken one less whiskey tonight.

"Can I kiss you?"

The air between them stood still. In fact, they could swear the time stood still as well. Lucy was processing his words, and Natsu was waiting for an answer. A yes, a smile, even half a nod would suffice. And there it was. Lucy had wetted her lips.

She barely had time to take a breath before Natsu crashed his mouth against hers. For some reason she was surprised – she thought the moment had called for a soft, fluttery kiss, but soon her surprise was drowned in awe. After all, this was her very first kiss. She wanted to be in the moment. The initial crash had been the most forceful part. Natsu quickly adapted, moulding his lips against hers with a soft motion to it. One of his hands had been cupping her cheek when he first brought his face to hers, and now his other hand was on her waist, pulling her entire body closer to his.

Lucy, who felt like she was melting under his hot touch, was quick to wrap her arms around his neck in an attempt to hoist herself up, getting tangled up in his scarf. His mouth was burning hot, but just cool enough for her not to want to pull away, and at the edge of his lips she could feel his stubble scratching her. How could they have waited so long to do this?

She hadn't yet gotten the hang of breathing while kissing yet though, so soon she had to pat out. While panting for air, she noticed that Natsu was still bent over, giving light pecks on her cheek, continuing down, kissing a trail along her jaw. As he neared her ear he gave her a nibble, earning a giggle that could easily have been confused with a gasp to someone with an untrained ear. She could feel her entire body tingling, every fluttery graze from Natsu's lips leaving her with goosebumps. Did he know the effect this had on her? That she couldn't help but to get confused about what their relationship was currently. What were they doing?

When Natsu noticed that Lucy had catched her breath, he picked his head up from being buried in her neck. The eyes he earlier had compared to a puppy's glimpse, were now darkened in a seductive gaze. Her rosy, now plump, lips were slightly parted as an aftereffect of her panting, and he suddenly had to know what they tasted. They looked so soft, no – they were evidently soft, so certainly they had to be sweet as well. Her lip gloss, though smudged from him having mushed it around, made her look appetising.

Once again Natsu closed their distance, though this time he left his mouth slightly open. He just wanted to see if those lips really were as sweet as they looked. Lucy, who still was in a daze, having closed her eyes to invite him to further action, suddenly became aware of what he was doing. Natsu's tongue brushed over Lucy's bottom lip. She could feel her heartbeat pick up – she had never felt another person's tongue on her mouth. That didn't mean she didn't like it: if anything she wanted to do the same to him. Lick him, see what sensations he could give her, what she could give him.

On accident, Lucy's tongue met Natsu's. She was about to retreat it back into her mouth when she felt Natsu's tongue enter her mouth completely. The bodily reactions she had to his action was like nothing she had ever felt before – hadn't she known better, she would think she was about to get eaten. Devoured by the lust that had taken over their brains. Natsu tasted like smoke and whiskey, and she wondered if he could feel the aftertaste of the drinks she had had as well. Lucy quickly decided that she couldn't just be on the receiving side. She brought her hands to his head, did a combing motion through his hair that almost stopped Natsu in his tracks, and when he no longer dominated their combined mouthspace, Lucy pushed forward her own tongue. She started exploring his mouth, examining every single part of that grin that she found in all her happiest dreams. This was Natsu, no frowns, no barriers, nothing that kept space between them. They were melting together into one.

Natsu had been caught off guard when Lucy's slender fingers started combing through his hair. A motion he had always connected to being soothed while motion sick, was now edging him on, giving him the extra courage to go all in. As Lucy's tongue searched around in his mouth, feeling the sharp canines with its tip, Natsu started sucking hers in retaliation. Kissing reminded him of sparring, in a way – a balance between fighting for the upper hand and learning to give up when the other clearly was winning.

Their arms had been flailing around for the past five minutes, tugging and pulling at their partner. Lucy was busy holding on to Natsu's shoulders, sometimes trailing down to rest on his chiselled chest, but mostly finding themselves back around Natsu's face – cupping his cheeks, getting her fingers tangled up in his soft hair, drawing small circles on the back of his neck, all things that made Natsu feel like he was going insane. How could her soft touches have such huge impacts? But he absolutely wasn't complaining, he was soaking everything up, wanting to remember every detail. He was totally wrapped around her finger.

Lucy shared his sentiment, as Natsu's hands had been trailing down her waist, sometimes staying there in a massaging motion, sometimes going down further to grip her hips. Then she found him going back up again, cupping her face, bringing her so close that not an atom could pass by. She was obsessed. He was pressing his entire body against her, even putting a leg between hers, resulting in a very embarrassing moan from Lucy.

This entire time that they had been kissing, Lucy hadn't heard a single thing, being so wrapped up in their actions and in her own headspace. When she suddenly let her voice out, it was as if the bubble that had been around them burst. She could only take another few seconds of their smacking and panting, before she had to pull away.

"Oh my god, Natsu," she breathed, taking in the scene of the man in front of her. He, too, was panting, but had the air of being able to continue for eternity. His eyes looked even darker than usual, like they were in this limbo of determination and lust. He seemed to be waiting for her to continue talking. "We're still outside."

She almost smiled when she heard how stupid she sounded. Being outside wasn't the problem – kissing her best friend in a drunk haze was. Natsu seemed like he hadn't even considered the consequences of what they were doing. He just smirked as he answered.

"Then we'll go in." His voice was huskier than it had been earlier this night. Like a switch had flipped and some instincts were speaking, deep from his soul. Those words were all it took for Lucy to swing the port open from behind, falling back into the dim hallway that led up to her apartment's front door. Natsu immediately kissed her again, while simultaneously struggling to get the keys out of the keyhole. When he did manage, however, he didn't hesitate a second to hoist Lucy up so she was straddling his lower stomach. Lucy was quick on the notes, wrapping her legs around him so she wouldn't slide down when he carried them up the stairs.

As soon as they went through the door and threw off their shoes, Lucy jumped down from him. The kiss, that had been deep on their way up – lots of tongue and saliva, was interrupted as she took his hand and headed straight for the bed. Natsu was walking slightly behind, worshipping the sway of her hips and her sculpted back underneath that flowy red dress. He would have kneeled, hadn't he been following her footsteps towards his version of heaven – Lucy's bed, with Lucy in it.

The apartment wasn't big, so it took ten steps to stand in front of the bed. Lucy turned around, and Natsu's breath was once again taken away. He wanted to treasure her like gold, yet at the same time he wanted every piece of her. He wanted the privilege to touch her, feel her, know her. And as Lucy's lips turned upwards into a smile, he knew that she was allowing him. So he brought her face close again, accidentally bumping their foreheads together, like they had done many times before, and then he closed his eyes and gave her the softest peck on her lips he could manage. Their first kiss, outside of the apartment, had been rough and clumsy, experimental even. Now he just revelled in being allowed to feel those soft, warm lips that had been plumped up by his own doing.

And after that first peck, he gave her one again. Then a third time. Then he slowly brought them down on the bed, and then Lucy took the lead again. She figured that they could do a mixed style of kissing – no major tongue events, no extra saliva, but also no pecking. She held her mouth half open, sort of closing off any attempted entrance Natsu might want to do with his tongue, and instead softening her lips and tongue, making the make out style deep, but gentle. Natsu was of course quick on the notes and followed her lead, liking the mood it set between them. No crazy panting, no feelings of rushing, just them, there, kissing.

Now, even if Lucy could have done this all night, she realised something important. More important than the half-way relationship they had created this last half hour. Yes, she realised she was lying in bed with outdoor clothes. The realisation made her still, prompting Natsu to pause the kissing. He was still hovering over her, though their legs had tangled together, and now that he wasn't kissing her he realised Lucy's skirt had ridden up quite high. He swooped her sweaty bangs to the side.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"We have to strip," Lucy said, crawling out of his grip and up, walking to her dresser.

"What?"

"Oh, Natsu, come on. Think! We've been to the pub in these clothes, it's disgusting!" Before Natsu could even register the fact that she first of all hadn't implied what he thought she implied, and then register that he had to change out of his clothes, Lucy had switched her dress to a night gown and taken off her jewellery.

"Right," he mumbled, surprised that Lucy was so composed, despite their situation. He certainly didn't feel composed. "Are my sweatpants in the drawer?"

"Yeah," she said, picking them up and throwing them on the bed. She wanted to brush through her hair before going to sleep – it helped it stay tangle free during the night.

Natsu took off his scarf and unbuttoned the shirt he was wearing. He didn't mind undressing in front of Lucy, but after tonight he felt like it was odd. His life had just changed for the better, yet they still had to eat, sleep, brush their teeth, go to the toilet – change clothes. It would be much better if he could just kiss Lucy non-stop, for eternity.

As he changed out of his dress pants and into his sweatpants, Lucy took a glance at him. He looked like a God with his physique, the perfect muscle definition and the tan he had left from the summer – she wanted to feel every crevice. Normally, she would have shaken off the thought and made some tea to cool her head off, but with alcohol in her blood and with the current situation, she allowed herself to be bold. She snuck up behind him, though she knew he could probably hear her footsteps. With a soft touch, she felt the dip where his spine was buried with muscle – starting at his neck and slowly following it down to his lower back, stopping once she felt the curve change from convex to concave.

She had never seen him this turned on. The entire room felt electric, and when she looked up from his back, she saw that he was watching her in his peripherals. It only took him a second to turn around and lock himself to her lips, and this time she was practically thrown onto the bed. He was eating her, lightly pulling at her bottom lip until he once again dove down in her mouth. If the previous kissing had been gentle and kind, this was the heavy stuff. A string of saliva connected their mouths when they pulled apart for a second, like it was telling them to get back in again. And they obeyed.

Natsu's hands were roaming Lucy's body, no longer stopping at the friendly zones. Her nightgown showed so much skin that he would have thought she wore it to seduce him, hadn't he known better. Luckily, that meant easy access to grab a handful of her ass, earning an airy moan from Lucy.

She, too, was busy feeling Natsu up. She consistently held him close to feel as every muscle on his back was working. When she felt company at his groin being rubbed up against her, she once again felt her voice slip out, though this time she stifled it by clawing at his back. That only seemed to edge him on more though, since the accidental rubbing started feeling more intentional.

Natsu started kissing Lucy's neck again, though this time he didn't leave dry, fluttery kisses, but rather a wet trail of saliva as his tongue travelled down towards her collar bones. Lucy felt like she was floating – he was warm, made her sweaty, yet he gave her goosebumps like he was paid for each shiver, searching everywhere on her body to earn a new one. As he settled on a spot right below her collarbone, just where the flesh of her breast started, she felt a sucking sensation. He was grabbing the skin in the area with his teeth, and Lucy wasn't sure if it was painful or the best feeling ever – perhaps a mix of both.

"God, Natsu," she breathed, feeling her voice waver as one of his hands held her waist tight.

Natsu, who must have decided that his hickey was finished, hoisted himself up. Lucy suspected he was having a hard time holding himself back, the sheen on his temples and his puzzled eyes giving it away. Without a word they seemed to have agreed to take a breather, Natsu leaning himself against the window while trying to compose himself, Lucy throwing her legs over the edge of the bed to gather her thoughts as well.

Though the silence was loud now that the room wasn't filled with their smacking and panting, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was ambiguous worst case, which Lucy didn't associate with bad.

"Look, I…" Lucy started, turning her head to face Natsu's. "I don't have any condoms."

Her face immediately turned red once she said it, and she regretted having turned to look at Natsu's reaction. His eyes widened and his mouth fell agape – had her implication been that horrible?

"Now that'cha mention it, me neither."

He laughed. Slowly at first, but when Lucy joined in they fell into giggles. It wasn't the end of the world, so there were no hard feelings. Though Natsu had a hard feeling that he had to deal with… He'd have to do it quietly in the bathroom before they went to bed.

Lucy turned around properly to look at Natsu again.

"I think we should… talk. About this." She looked serious again, but not in a stern or menacing way. "It's not that I don't want to do it. I do." Her face was blushing, but she continued speaking. "I just don't think it's a terrible idea to wait. At least until we're sober?"

Natsu nodded. Of course he could wait, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of going all the way when they were this drunk and naive. He wanted her to feel into it, for her to be able to call their first night special.

"Yeah, let's do that. Should we go brush our teeth?"

Lucy let out a tired giggle.

"Yeah, I need some water as well."

As soon as they went back to bed, they realised that they didn't want to stop kissing just yet. After all, once you got the hang of it, it turned out to be easy to replicate.

#bumblebeehug writes #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fairytail #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #fairytail #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fic #fairy tail fanfiction

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omnomnomdomcaps · 25 days ago

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Making Up for Lost Time (Remastered)

Another Halloween, another lovely opportunity to explore the bewitching, twisted, and the spooky of ab/dl fiction. Here's a remaster that was originally a caption story featuring DaddysDreamDoll, but has since had its images barred from Tumblr. DM me for the full version!

Now? Really!?

An exasperated Jane scrambled out of her bedroom to glance at the intercom. Of all the times, she thought, this had to be the absolute worst for someone to be at the door.

Her evening had started out so well. She’d gotten herself all dolled up, put on her favorite jeans and top, - a pink tank with ‘Daddy’s Girl’ written on it, sure to amuse her boyfriend - and picked out the perfect tequila to bring to the night’s Halloween party.

But things took a turn. Out of nowhere, the girl was overcome with a splitting headache, so strong that she struggled to walk straight. As she reached for drugs in her stupor, Jane felt an odd, warming sensation in her pants, one she realized far too late was the feeling of her wetting herself, ruining both her jeans and the thong she was hiding underneath.

Now, to top it all off, there was someone at the door, and a very strange someone at that. Jane stared at the video feed for a few moments, bewildered at what seemed to be a slender older man, with curly white hair and a short, matching beard, dressed in a skipper hat and suit, both in garish carnival orange, blue, and white. A bizarre figure indeed, but one that gave Jane a distinct feeling of déjà vu.

And then, the man spoke, in a voice the girl had not heard in many years:

“Good evening, Jane! Might I come in? It really has been far, far too long.”

“Oh no, no no no no no,”, the girl repeated to herself, backing slowly away from the intercom. Whatever this weirdo was on about, she didn’t have time for it now. Still nervous from the bizarre happenings of the evening, Jane could feel her heart pounding as she finally turned away.

And then, as she lifted her head up towards her apartment door, the girl let out a piercing shriek, before raising a shaking arm up and pointing forward.

There he was. The man Jane had just seen at the entryway had somehow come in without her noticing, through a door she was sure she kept locked. She could see now that he walked with an ornate cane, but it made him no less menacing in her eyes.

“Oh, so sorry to scare you there,” the man began calmly, a slight drawl to his voice, “I hope it’s alright that I let myself in?”

“You… you…” Jane stammered, walking backwards on shaking legs towards her kitchen, careful not to lose sight of the intruder. “wh… why are you here? H… how did you get in here?”

“Now, Jane,” the man chuckled, clearly unphased by the girl’s nervous tone, “I already told you, I’m here to make up for lost time. And, you know, these things always find a way back to you.”

Jane’s eye twitched as she stealthily grabbed a knife with her right hand and took it behind her back. “Please get out,” she whimpered, moving cautiously back towards the man, “please…”

“Oh, heavens,” the man remarked, clearly in no rush to go anywhere, “it seems we’re off on the wrong foot. There’s no need to be scared. Though I do appreciate the welcoming gift!”

Confused, Jane scanned around to try to understand what the man was talking about, only to realize that his eyes were gesturing down towards her right hand… and the banana she was holding in it.

The girl’s eyes widened in horror. Shaking, she dropped the fruit, staggered towards her couch, and fell onto its seat, the strength to stand upright now drained from her body. She wondered, was she dreaming? Had she gone mad? Or was this really some monster who had come to pay her a visit?

“Come now,” the man continued, taking a seat in the chair opposite Jane, “what’s gotten into you tonight? Was it the little accident you had? Is that still bothering you?”

With her mind racing, her heart pounding, and her head still throbbing, Jane slowly lifted her eyes towards her visitor. In all her frenzy, she had completely forgotten that she wet herself earlier, but now it was beginning to seem far less coincidental. “You.. did you do this to me?”

The man thought for a second. “No, no, I wouldn’t say that,” he smiled, “I suppose you did it to yourself, in a way. But I may have played a role, somewhere along the line.”

At this, the girl just stared, bug-eyed.

The man cleared his throat. “Let me be abundantly clear here. I am not going to hurt you. I haven’t the slightest interest in anything like that. All I would like is to make up for a bit of lost time, to spend just a few hours this fine evening catching up with someone I’ve not seen in far too long.”

There it was again - where did she know him from? - but it didn’t matter. “Please,” she asked softly, finally beginning to calm down, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for… for whatever this is. I… I have places to be tonight.”

“Oh?” The man inquired, “a party of some sort, is it?”

Jane’s eyes widened for a brief moment. The man’s weirdness clearly wasn’t abating, but it was beginning to grow a little less surprising. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

“A Halloween party, eh? Still just can’t wait for your candy, I see.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Candy? Excuse me? For your information, it’s a grown up party.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Drinking, loud music, and I’m sure some time with that boyfriend of yours. But that, my dear, is just grown-up candy.”

The girl sighed. Whatever riddles this odd man was throwing at her, she just wanted to be done with. “What… what do you want from me?” She asked once more.

“Well, I told you, I just want a little bit of your time for us to catch up, that’s all.”

“And if I let you have that, then you’ll leave me alone? You’ll let me go to my party?”

“I will,” the man said.

Jane sighed once more, dropping her head downwards as she rested her arms at her knees. Whatever this weirdo is planning, I guess I’ll just have to play along for now, she determined.

Finally, the girl looked back up. “Fine.”

“Well,” the man smiled once more, “that’s all I needed to hear.”

With that, he snapped his fingers. And for a moment, Jane’s world went black.

When Jane came to, she felt as if she had been asleep a long, long time. The pain in her head was gone, but seemed to have been replaced with a thick fog. The clammy feeling of cold, wet jeans was gone as well, though it too had been replaced by a slew of new sensations. Taking inventory of herself, the girl found that she was now wearing a short, lemon-patterned dress, a matching bonnet, a pair of mary-janes, a pair of tights, and something thick and crinkly underneath the tights…

Her first instinct was to suspect that she had been drugged, but a look at her surroundings indicated otherwise. The clock that hung over her kitchen mantle read almost exactly as it did before she was knocked out, and the sky outside her window still carried the same twilight hues. Either the man who had come into her apartment truly had magical powers, or she was dreaming - either way, kicking and screaming wouldn’t do her much good.

“Wh-wh-why am I dressed like this?” she asked, lifting her eyes towards the man in the hat.

“Well, to make up for lost time, my dear,” he replied, “do I really have to keep repeating that?”

“By… dressing me up like a baby?”

The man chuckled. “Yes, well, this is the time you most missed out on, you see. A treasured time of newfound wonder and joy, that warms the heart and fills the spirit of most any child. And yet you, my dear, were just so preoccupied with getting your candy, that you let these precious sands slip through your fingers.”

Jane sighed. Again with the candy. “So… what do I do now?” she asked.

“Well,” the man smiled, “we’ve got some letter blocks in there for you to play with. Why don’t you try spelling a few words?”

The girl raised her eyebrows. Indeed, in front of her was a small, wheeled box of wooden blocks. “And, if I spell some words for you, will you let me go to my party?”

Jane shrugged and picked up a block from the corner of the tray. Then, for a moment, she paused, tilting her head to look at what was on it.

“Ummm, mister? What’s the picture on this block?”

“Oh, that?” the man answered, grinning ear to ear, “that would be the letter ‘P’.”

The girl blushed. This was going to be harder than she thought.

****

“And this is the Y, right?” the girl asked excitedly.

“Very good! That is indeed the Y. Just like a wishbone, remember?”

“Mmmhmmm!” Jane smiled proudly. “And now I put it here?” she asked, gesturing to an empty space next to a B-A-B she had lined up.

“Very good, young lady. And what does B-A-B-Y spell?”

The girl placed a finger squarely on her bottom lip - her favorite thinking pose - and tried for a few moments to sound the word out as the man had instructed. Bee-ay-bee-wh - baby! “Baby!” she squealed, clapping her hands and giddily jumping her knees up and down on the ground.

That initial shock of not recognizing the letter ‘P’ had made it clear to Jane that this wouldn’t be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to be so much fun! Sure, the first spelling - “CAT” - was a complete mystery to the girl, who simply watched along as the friendly older man neatly ordered the blocks in front of her. But her initial worry that this was just some cruel joke was calmed when she recognized the ‘A’ (after a few gentle reminders) in the next word, “JANE.” By the time this third word came around, the rules and patterns of these strange shapes were beginning to come into view, and the girl patented her new thinking pose as she gazed in wide-eyed wonder at her guide’s explanation of the letter ‘B.’

The whole experience was a delightful surprise for the twenty-three-year-old, but perhaps the strangest part of this magic sense of seeing letters for the first time was how new it felt. Jane, who had long prided herself in a keen memory, simply could not recall having such a sense of wonder in her own childhood. It was, to her, completely novel, its feelings of discovery and accomplishment a warm treat.

Jane was so enamored with it, in fact, that she entirely lost track of the time, considering it only when she caught a glimmer of the pitch-dark sky outside. Only then did the thought cross her mind that she might have forgotten about something…

The party!

The revelation struck Jane suddenly, and without a second thought she grabbed for the receiver laid out beside her.

“I’m sorry, mister,” she said to the man in the hat, “but I hafta call my boyfwiend ‘cause there’s a party an’ I really wanna go an’ I’m sorry, mister, but I hafta go, okay?”

To this, the man said nothing, smiling silently in his seat as he watched the girl try to make sense of the dial on her plastic phone. Sipping tea from his small, white cup - which had appeared, seemingly, from nowhere - he looked on as Jane spun the rotator back and forth and pressed anything that looked remotely like a button.

And then, he saw the girl realize her mistake.

Slowly, Jane put the receiver to the floor and stared for a few moments at the older man in front of her. In her eyes, tears began to well up, the harbingers of a coming. And then, finally, the girl began to scream.

“YOU!” she cried out, jumping and stomping about the room, “You maded me a baby an’ now I’m gonna miss my party an’ it’s your fault an’ I really wanna go an’ now I can’t ‘cause I’m a dumb baby who can’t spell an’ can’t use a phone an’ an’...”

With her fists balled up, the girl huffed and puffed, tears continuing to pour from her eyes. “I wanna go! I wanna go!” she continued, “I want my candy! I wa…”

All at once, the shouting stopped, and the girl froze, squatting down in the middle of the room. The girl was overcome with a sense of fullness in her stomach, and she realized quickly it would be too late to do anything about it.

So she simply pushed.

Shocked by the sudden embarrassment of such an accident, Jane didn’t even notice as she plopped her thumb into her mouth for comfort. Instead, she was transfixed at the way the growing mess pressed against her padding, and at the thought that she was so unaware this was coming.

When she was done, the girl broke her wobbly squat and fell onto her rear. Her thick padding ensured it wouldn’t hurt, but the squish of the impact was a harsh reminder that brought the girl nearly back to tears.

“Now then,” the man finally broke his silence, placing his teacup back on its tray, “where was this you wanted to go?”

Jane sniffled. “T-to the party.”

“And do you think,” the man asked frankly, “that that would be a good idea, to be going to a party in such a messy diaper?”

The girl scrunched her nose and shook her head.

“That’s right,” he continued, “because you certainly would not want to embarrass yourself in front of all your friends like that, now, would you?”

“No,” the girl responded meekly, pouting as she shook her head.

“Of course not. And you know, that’s not a very fun thought to think about. But would you like to hear something that is fun to think about?”

“Hmmmm?” the girl looked up, curious.

The man in the knelt down beside the girl, bringing his face closer to her own. “That little accident you had,” he began, “that’s what happens when you haven’t quite figured out how to use the potty. But, just like with your letters, it’s something you can learn and get better, and better, and better at, over time.”

“Now,” he continued, placing his hand on the girl’s shoulder, “I want you to imagine completing your potty training. Sitting there, triumphantly on your pot, a bona fide big girl. Graduated from your diapers, graduated from your pull ups, ready to wear your big girl panties day or night, not afraid of any accidents at all. Can you think about that for me?”

Jane’s eyes widened as she tried to wrap her mind around what the man was saying. After what she had just done, filling her diaper without any semblance of warning or control, even getting to wear pull ups seemed a world away. But to be done with potty training altogether? She couldn’t even imagine how proud she’d be.

Again, she tried to think back to what it felt like during her first potty training journey, but found nothing. Bizarrely, she could remember starting it - being seated on the potty as a clueless babe, unaware of what to do with it - but not reaching the end.

“Well then,” the man said, a bright smile now firmly on his face, “what would you like to do next?”

The girl thought for a moment about her priorities. Lost as she was in aspiration and memory, she had completely lost track of how bad of an idea it was to be sitting down at a time like this, and how icky her bottom was beginning to feel.

“Ummmm…” the girl blushed, “change?”

“A fresh diaper, eh? Alright, then, as you wish.”

And then it hit her.

****

She could still hear herself whining that day. “Why can’t I go? Why can’t I go? Why? Why? Why?”

“Because,” her exasperated mother tried to tell her, “you’re too little. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Next year, I promise, we’ll take you trick-or-treating with the other kids.”

“But I wan it NOW!” little Jane cried, shaking her tiny fists.

“Here,” she could hear her mother say, “if you stop crying, I’ll let you make a wish.”

Jane remembered looking around, bewildered, trying to understand what her mother meant. And she saw him, sitting in his booth, wearing the very same hat, the very same suit, the very same inviting smile.

“Come on, honey,” her mother had said, gently helping the little girl out of her stroller, “why don’t we ask the nice wizard for something.”

Holding her mother’s hand in front of the booth, Jane could remember gulping nervously before she spoke. “M-mister Wizard,” she began, “I wish… I wish I was a year older.”

“Do you, now?” he said then, “is it so you can go trick-or-treat, and get candy with the big kids?”

The younger Jane nodded shyly.

“Well, then, as you wish!” he declared, before twirling his hands about and sparking his wand.

Jane could remember herself giggling while her mother smiled, both of them thinking it was all some great show. Jane could recall the sense of confusion she had as to why she had made that wish - after all, she was three years old, and already had a costume in mind for the night.

Jane could also remember one of the strangest feelings she had ever felt - the sensation of nearly falling over as she sat back towards a stroller that was no longer there. It was a moment in her life that had baffled her for twenty years, and now she could finally, finally make sense of it.

Back in the present day, the older Jane blinked as if she had just woken from a dream. Slowly piecing everything together, the girl blushed as she tried once again to face the familiar man from the fair.

“Seems like someone’s been doing a little remembering,” he grinned.

Jane nodded silently. Then, after a brief pause, she looked up and began to speak. “Ummm, Mister Wizard? Is it… is it okay if I go to bed now? I’m pretty tired.”

“Of course, dear, it’s been quite a long day for you.”

“Th-thank you,” the girl said, bowing slightly. “And, Mister Wizard? Thank you… for everything.”

With that, the girl began to move towards her bedroom, knocking out quickly on her bed, not even realizing she was still diapered.

When she awoke on the morning of November 1st, Jane came to a number of jarring realizations. First, that there was a pacifier still in her mouth. Second, that she was wearing a diaper, and quite a wet one from the feeling of it. And third, that she couldn’t read the posters on her bedroom wall, though she still felt some pride in making out the letter ‘A’.

“Ah, you’re up!” a now familiar voice called, “I’m just about to be on my way, was lovely to catch up with you!”

“Ummmm, Mister Wizard?” Jane began, worriedly, “why am I still a baby?”

“Ah right, about that!” the man answered casually, “well, you see, while my work here is done, you unfortunately still have a year to make up for. So it’s going to be a little while for you - I certainly hope that boyfriend of yours doesn’t mind changing diapers. Cheerio!”

With that, the man left through the door.

Jane, meanwhile, lay still on the bed, slowly taking in what she had just learned. It was a lot to figure out, but most urgent to her was the question of what she would be having for breakfast. She was in no state to cook, after all, and she really didn’t feel like eating candy.

#ab/dl caption #ab/dl community

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