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idesofrevolution · 8 months ago

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Quality Time

*PING* Rocco looked down and smiles. He'd been wondering what Carlo and their father had been up to for the past week. Ever since their mother left a couple of years back, their father had been relatively distant- choosing to spend his hours away from the office at the gym instead of at home with his sons. To be fair, Rocco had left the house at 18, and now at 24 he wasn't home as often as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, it took both boys by shock when their relatively distant father decided to take a month off of work to spend some "quality time" with his sons. Carlo got the first two weeks, and Rocco would have the second. What they were in for, their father wouldn't say.

Hey, Roc. Dad wants us all to meet up tonight. We're at the gym on Broad Street, meet us there in 30 minutes.

The text was odd, definitely different than the normally chipper tone his brother is known for having. There wasn't even a single emoji... Rocco had hoped that everything would go well, but from the curtness of Carlo's message, it wasn't looking good. He sighed, walking his lanky ass over to the closet and throwing on some clothes, wasting no time making the 20 minute walk down to Broad street. The dim neon glow of the Planet Jacked sign illuminated the front of the strip mall; at 9PM on a Wednesday, the gym was the only business open compared to the vacant suites and GameStop next door.

Rocco pulled open the door, pulling out his phone to text Carlo that he'd arrived. The response was immediate:

In the kettlebell room. Hurry up.

Something did feel off, but Rocco had dismissed it as an irritated Carlo trying to pawn their gruff and macho dad off on him. Neither were "manly men" by their father's standards, not that he'd ever treated them poorly by any means. It just meant that they had little to nigh in common with eachother, and little to build a very "buddy buddy" relationship on. But, at least he was making an effort.

Rocco made his way through the gym floor, weaving through benches and weight machines to the double glass doors that houses the calisthenics room. He pushed open the door, and walked inside. Right off the bat, his suspicions that something was off were proven to be justified as he saw his brother flexing in the mirror. Or at least, he thought it was his brother. The man had Carlo's likeness: his short stature, his green eyes, the black and green headphones... but this was not his brother.

Carlo was easily 100 lbs of muscle heavier than when he'd left with their father on Monday morning. His hair was buzzed short, his formerly friendly face now scowled an aggressive smoulder, his arms and legs were bursting with hard muscle. Compared to the 5'2" skinny 19 year old Rocco had known, this man might as well have been a stranger.

"Get my bag over there, gotta shower and change." His voice was harsh, gruff... as if he'd smoked eight cigars before working out. He remained flexing in the mirror, as Rocco stood there gobsmacked. His eyes quickly shifted from his physique to his brother standing perplexed at the door. "You gonna sit and stare or are we gonna get going?" Rocco slowly walked over to Carlo's gym bag, picking it up and straining to shlep it over his shoulder. "Jesus, Roc. We've got to get you into the gym. C'mon, let's go." Carlo turned and walked out of the room, with Rocco hastening to meet his pace.

"Uh, Carlo... Did you... take something? I mean, I'm not accusing you of anything, but how did you..."

"Get this fuckin' jacked? Dad helped out a bit." Outside of Rocco's eyesight, Carlo smirked devilishly. He sneered, hocking a mouthful of spit onto the garbage can. Rocco nearly dropped the bag and bolted. This couldn't be the sweet, naive little brother he'd grown up with. If anything, he was acting more like their father than himself. As they entered the locker room, Carlo stopped at the mirror again, pinching his chin as if he were checking himself out in the mirror. "Yeah, Dad was saying he wanted me to try some pussy this week, and that girls liked a guy with guns. Heh, it worked." He flexed his massive arms, the putrid scent of heavy unwashed musk wafted from his pits as he did. Rocco pinched his nose, dropping the gym bag onto the bench.

"Since when have you been interested in girls?" Rocco spoke with genuine concern in his voice. Carlo had been an out and proud gay man for years now. Their father never understood it, but it never really bothered him any. To him, as long as his sons were 'getting some' then all was well. But this, combined with Carlo's inflated ego and body...

"Since I felt like it. Thought I'd give breedin' a try. After six girls this week, I'm tuckered out." Carlo sauntered toward the shower stalls, tossing his hat and headphones to his brother before turning to face him. "Dad will be here in a minute, just wait here." With that, he walked into the stall, and Rocco could hear the water starting to flow. He fell backward onto the bench, awestruck. Turning to the bag, Rocco imagined vials and vials of steroids and testosterone hiding within. It was the only logical explanation. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unzipped the bag, and ripped the top open to reveal:

Nothing. Carlos' normal street clothes, albeit a bit stretched out now, and an empty shaker bottle. No drugs, no syringes, nothing incriminating whatsoever. Whatever had happened to him, it wasn't due to roid rage.

"NNNNUGUUHHHH" Carlo's voice echoed in the empty locker room over the sound of the showerhead. Rocco stood up quickly, darting toward the shower stalls. Before he could ask if his brother was okay, the noises began. Wet noises- unaffiliated with the running shower. Rocco slowly crept closer, and the sounds had become clearer. Slimy schlorps and squelches combined with Carlo's moans of seeming pleasure. Was he fucking a pocket pussy? Surely not, he assumed, though in the back of his mind, the brother he'd seen was not the Carlo he knew. "uuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNAGHHHHHH!" One final moan and a rubbery slurp, and the room was silent again.

Rocco quickly rushed to the end stall, ready to rip the white curtain open, only for it to open on it's own: revealing the hulking figure of his father. The shock was palpable, as thick as the steam in the air. His father towered above him, as he always did, a massive slab of hard meat with a face. Sweat dripped from every part of his hulking body, and his face was already plastered with a surprised expression. As if he weren't expecting Rocco to see him yet.

"Dad... Is Carlo oka..." Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, he saw his brother slumped over on the shower seat, passed out under the hot streams of water: still in the shorts and running shoes he'd been wearing moments ago. His muscled body could barely bend at the waist, so his limp torso sat at a slight angle to the rest of his body. Rocco turned to his father, whose expression hadn't yet changed.

"I said I'd be there in a minute, Roc." The limber young man tried to rush to his passed out brother, only for the iron grip of his father to stop him in his tracks. "He'll be fine. He'll wake up just the way you know him, with a couple of extra pounds. Don't you worry."

"Dad, what the fuck is going on?" Rocco shouted at his father, whose brows began to furrow. The hulking man grabbed the white curtain, shutting it behind his son. Slowly the look of shock turned to one of seriousness, and a twinge of nervousness shot down Rocco's spine.

"I'm on vacation, Roc. With my boy. And now it's your turn to spend some time with your old man." Rocco took a step back, confused and anxious. "You're what, 24 now? Let me tell you something, Roc. When you hit 50, it doesn't matter if you're the sexiest god damn man alive- women just don't look at you the same. They take one look at you and see a stacked old man. They look at you like you're disgusting, Roc. I just wanted things to be the way they used to, when I was your age." Another step backward, and Rocco felt himself pinned against the wall. "It doesn't hurt. Carlo said it felt damn good. He'll wake up feelin' like a million bucks and go right back to sticking that greasy pole into some man ass. Might even be better than before. But you..." His father leaned in against the wall, the wafting stench of his BO encircling the two. "You swing both ways. So will you do your pop a favor, Roc?" Rocco swallowed his spit, as his father leaned in until they stood inches from eacother, eye to eye.

"W... What kind of favor?"

"Let me be young again. Just for a couple weeks. I'll hop back in Carlo if things get out of hand, he's already said he's good with it. Let your old man take you for a spin, show you how I used to do it back in the day. Then at the end of the month, I hop right out. Deal?" His father stuck his hand out, waiting for him to accept this insane deal. Rocco turned to his brother, slowly coming back to consciousness.

"... One week. And if you don't fuck things up, I'll think about the other two." His father smiled as Rocco shook his hand in agreement.

"Turn around, boy. And just take some deep breaths." Rocco did as he was told, slowly turning around and placing his hand onto the brown tiled wall. He could hear Carlo coming to, and hearing the wet clap of his father's hands rubbing together. "Alright, boy. It's gonna be tight, deep breath!" Rocco took a slow inhale, feeling a strange tingling sensation as he felt his father's hands on his bony shoulderblades. As he exhaled, he could feel the calloused hands slowly sink into his back. "Ohhhh, fuck." His father's gravelly bass voice growled in the cavernous room, soaring above the wet schlorps of his huge arms slowly sinking deeper into his son. Rocco watched as his father's hands appeared beneath the skin of his arms, the outline of his fingers sliding down his biceps and forearms was quickly followed by the sounds of rubbery creaks as his father's considerable muscles slid into his own. Bones cracked and skin stretched as powerful biceps and firm forearms swelled with the invasion, as his father's hands slipped into his own like two tight gloves. His meaty fingers cracked under their own volition, as his father flexed his new triceps.

"Da... Dad? Oh fuck, Roc! It's your turn now, huh, bro?" Carlo's chipper voice cut through the wet sloshing as his father stepped forward, shoving his huge sweaty feet forward into Rocco's heels, immediately swelling to fit his size 14 boats. His father's ripe foot sweat started to pour from his soles while his calves started to sink in as well. "Feels great, right? I mean look at me? Dad promised a rockin' bod, and I mean, fuck! What guy is gonna turn me down now?" Rocco continued his deep breaths, trying to ignore his brother's bizarrely normal demeanor.

"Boy, you remember what your dad taught you. Take control, and fuck hard. They'll be beggin' for that cock." As the words left his father's mouth, he thrust his groin against Rocco's rear, letting his son's skin wrap around his thick ass as he slid his beer can dick into the sheath of his boy's- quickly swelling thick and musky as his balls grew into the size of clementines.

"Roc, just wait. Dad's gonna take good care of you. We're closer than ever, right pop?" His father's hard, hairy torso sank quickly into Rocco, his back expanding as his body fully enveloped his father up to their necks. Massive, juicy pecs and washboard abs pressed against his taut skin, and sputterings of the old man's hair started to sprout across his legs, arms, and chest. Rocco looked down at his massive body, no longer under his control, inflated with his father's stature. He could feel the scratchy scruff of the old man's beard against the nape of his neck.

"Alright, boy. Let me just slide..." He felt his father's nose press against the back of his head, and as it sank in, his vision became fuzzy. "Right..." His neck bulged and stretched, his jaw clenched and sharpened. "On..." His hair grew thick and messy, his eyebrows fuller and lower. As the last of his head was swallowed by the back of Rocco's head, a final crack of his neck and a slow exhale signaled that Rocco had already sank into the recesses of his mind. Facial hair sprouted across his chiseled jawline, as he smiled his pearly white teeth. "In." His father's gravelly tone now bellowed deep from within. He pushed himself off the wall, stretching his now 6'3" body, dripping in his old man's fragrant sweat. Turning to Carlo, he raised his eyebrow.

"Alright, boy. Let's go get some ass."

---

"Yeah, this is my brother's place, we'll be alone here. Don't you worry!" Carlo led the couple into Rocco's apartment, the boyfriend ogling his juicy ass as they walked inside. "Yeah, he's in the other room. This way." Carlo smiled as he threw his arm around the duo, the woman blushing as she turned to him.

"You sure he's down for this?" Carlo only smirked as he opened the door to the bedroom, revealing 'Rocco' in all his glory, swiping through the endless supply of thirsty messages on his Taimi. The couple's jaws dropped at the very sight of him, fresh from the gym, smelling of a locker room right after a basketball tournament.

"Oh wow... Uh, Hi there... I'm Victoria and this is Ollie..." 'Rocco' barely looked up from his phone, picking up his ripe gym shoe and socks, and tossing them to Ollie.

"Sniff, boy. When you're done with that, you can do the same for my brother." The boyfriend eagerly started to huff the stinking sock, moaning in pleasure as he did. "And you..." He put his phone down onto the table, turning to Victoria with a wry smirk. "Come show daddy some love."

#male possession #male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #jockification #musk #body possession #musky #father to son #familial transformation #familial possession #muscle tf #male tf #male merging #merging #body merging #bisexual #gay to straight

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Mission Control 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

That day, the bus is mostly empty. It's only you, an eldery couple, and the driver. The ebb and flow of traffic slows the wheels as the driver passes by vacant stops. You watch the pavement roll by between patches of grass.

The dulcet ride lures you into a calm even as your pre-work nerves buzz. You hug your bag in your lap as the driver stops and the doors open to let in another passenger. The axel squeals as the vehicular behemoth pulls away from the curb.

You continue to watch the city as the new rider strides between the seats. You sense their shadow loom closer and closer. You expect them to claim the empty seat across from yours. Instead, the sit right next to you. It's an odd choice given the few passengers aboard.

You fidget and make yourself smaller. You turn your head straight as you try to see the stranger from the edge of your vision. They're big. Broad enough that their arm presses to yours even as you try to shrink into yourself. Tall too, his knees against the row in front of you.

He sits rigidly beside you. Uneasy at his proximity, you fish into your side pocket and slide free your phone. You open it aimlessly, tapping habitually on the crossword app you play at work in the low times.

The solutions elude you as your mind can't detach from the man crowding you into the window. Why can't he sit anywhere else? You look around at the unclaimed seats. He stays as he is, stiff, straight, unmoving.

You close out of the came and lock your phone. You clasp your hand around the device as you hug your bag once more. Your other hand toys with the little pom pom that hangs from your zipper.

The bright bus signs pass by. You're stop is coming up. Now is the awkward part. Getting the man to let you out.

You pull the cord to signal your intent but he's already on his feet. You glance over and thank him softly, a brief glimpse at his face. A scar ripples from his hairline, through his temple and angles down his cheek to his jaw. His eyes are a bold blue and his nose finely cut despite the large blemish.

He stands back as you grab your bag and sidle out. You go to the doors. He follows.

Huh?

He grips the yellow bar behind you, his large hand gripping as if he might crush the metal. You stare at his knuckles and the bus jerks to a stop. You nearly fall off your feet. The man catches you by your hip with his free hand.

You set your feet and cough out another thanks. Embarrassed, you slap the doors and they open. You scurry off and the men once more trails after you. As you veer towards the mall, he waits until the bus takes off and crosses the street. With him, your suspicious leaves.

You're frazzled as you enter work. You don't know why. You just... are. Something about that man sticks with you. Even if he never said a word, it felt like he was trying to tell you something.

You clock in and try to shake it off. His face flashes in your mind. You can't place what seems so familiar about him. You would remember if you met him before. How could you forget?

You go to the counter as Layton talks with a customer about the new seasonal blends. The tea shop has its peak times, especially as winter approaches, but it's one o clock on a Tuesday and that's never very busy anywhere.

You greet the next customers. Two girls interested in the cold brew pots. You show them what you have and explain the store's points card. The buy a sampler and nothing else. Typical.

Layton finishes at four. The traffic picks up once he's gone. You don't mind as it keeps the time moving. It peters out as the dinnertime rush fills the food court. You can hear the crowd from around the corner.

You set to wiping down the counter and putting away the few stray canisters left out. As you turn back, you have to swallow down a shriek. You didn't hear the man over the mall's top hits playlist.

You hesitate as your eyes meet. It's him. The man from the bus. You blink and press your lips together.

"Hello, uh, how are you today?" You ask.

He just stares. No answer. No sign he even heard you.

He's in all black. Boots, jeans, cargo jacket. He stands like a soldier. You part your lips again, "are you looking for anything in particular? Today we have our apple crisp chai as the sample."

He still doesn't react. Not more than his eyes falling to the nervous twiddle of your fingers on the counter. Your scalp prickles and your nape burns. If he keeps this up, you'll have to phone security.

He raises his hand to reveal a familiar object. It's the fluffy pom pom from your bag. Your brows pop up, "oh? Thanks. It must have fallen off."

You reach for it and your mind races. As nice as it is to return the key chain, you can't help but wonder. How did he know where to find you?

As you grasp the soft ball, his other hand comes up and snares your wrist. Your squeak and try to pull back. You're stuck in his grip.

Your eyes round and flick up to meet his. His gaze bores into you and at last, his stony expression cracks. He smirks, the scar on the side of his face paling as the lines around his eyes deepen. He releases the keychain and grabs a fistful of your hair.

"Ow!" You squeal and yank again.

He rips your hair out at the roots and you exclaim again. Hets go of your arm and you hit the shelves behind you. He nods and spins on his heel, clutching the handful of your hair.

You whimper and rub your head as your scalp burns. Your eyes water and your lip trembles. You just gape at the door. What just happened?

#captain hydra #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #mission control #mcu #marvel #avengers #au

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eeunoia · 5 months ago

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ENHYPEN Imagines

mafia boss | lhs.

synopsis: mafia boss heeseung pursuing you.

pairings: lee heeseung x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: mentions of bullying, people being mean to reader, mafia heeseung.

note: i think this was requested, here you go! hehe i’m slowly releasing my drafts so bare with me lmao. also i’ve been very busy lately since there will be a big change in my life (i’m not getting married). anyway, reblogs and replies are highly encouraged as it helps me boost my posts and inspire me to write more. have a nice day and ily. stay safe everyone!

Being courted by the heir of Lee clan is pretty crazy. Having him all smitten by you is even crazier. It still doesn’t seem real. You’ve always think he was way out of your league, but he never made you feel like that.

Although, there are times where he flaunt his wealth sometimes that makes you realize how different you two are. It was unintentional, you can see that he’s just really want to make you feel how much he adores you.

“Wait, Heeseung.” you halt your steps and since the tall gorgeous boy is holding your hand, he stops as well.

He glances over his shoulder with eyebrows raised, confusion and slight worry flashes through his face.

“The mall seems close. We should just go.”

When driving over the parking lot a while ago, you already noticed how the famous mall seems so empty. The lights from inside is open, it’s well lit as usual but oddly, the parking space is empty. It was really weird as it was never like this. Since its located pretty much at the center of the city, its a hot place for mall goers.

He stares at you for a while before he then glances at the mall. Realization occurs him afterwards as he smiled, tightening his hold to your hand.

“Oh, yeah. I rented the whole place.” he casually said that made your jaw drop slightly.

He started pulling you again to guide you towards the entrance, but after regaining your senses you halted.

“What?” the astonishment lingers hardly on your tone. He furrowed his brows, wondering what is it this time.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I rented the whole place to ourselves.” he shrugs his shoulders then you can feel his thumb caressing your hand softly.

“Why?”

Being the youngest and used to getting things instantly, Heeseung’s feeling a little impatient with the way you’ve been delaying your agenda for tonight. He’s been wanting to do this for days and now, he couldn’t wait.

“You said you hate it when there’s a lot of people whenever you shop.” he smiles softly, “So I rented this.” he glances at the mall behind him.

Your lips pursed while staring at him, gaze softens. Nobody ever put so much effort for you, and now that you’re experiencing it from someone you least expect to do it leaves you speechless.

He’s been doing these things for you ever since the day he told you he likes you. He never fails to amaze you and take you by surprise. Lee Heeseung surely has a lot of tricks under his sleeves.

But apart from wealth and good looks, you discovered a lot of new things with Heeseung. The fact that behind his very intimidating aura, is a child wanting to be taken care of. He loves cuddle so much, always wants to feel you through his skin. He’s very clingy.

“Hey,” he gulps and leans downwards to slightly match your height. “too much?” he worriedly utters under his breath.

Heeseung wants to try his best to make you feel his sincere love and affection towards you, but he also doesn’t want it to be overwhelming.

“N-No,” you finally aswered and smiles despite the tears brimming your eyes.

“I’m just really thankful.”

He smiles and kisses you on your forehead before guiding you inside again. The stores on the whole first floor seems to be vacant. Lights were open, but there’s nobody there. The two of you headed straight to the second floor. Lines of branded clothes greeted you.

You rarely shops here since its super expensive, but Heeseung wants nothing but the best for his girl.

“Welcome, Mr. Lee.” the staffs bows their head as he walks inside this popular brand. He has his hand on your waist.

“Help her find clothes.” he stated.

“How many pairs, Sir?”

Heeseung eyes the girl with cold look. “As many as she wants.”

He teared his gaze off of her then glances back at you. The familiar soft look is back and he smiles, taking your hand over his lips.

“Just pick whatever you like, okay? I’ll take care of everything.” he smiled assuredly.

“B-But,”

“No buts.” and the way he looks at you indicates that he will surely not accept no from you.

Since you’ve been all alone your entire life, there’s nobody for you to lean on or share life problems. You’ve been independent your whole life and so you’re still not used having him taking care of you like this.

He walks towards this white elegant couch, “I’ll be waiting here patiently so take all your time, baby.”

Even before you can say anything else, a girl wearing a uniform escorted you towards the pile of expensive clothes.

That’s where it all started. The luxury kind of living you’ve only daydream about. Heeseung became very consistent of it that it triggers something inside you. Sometimes, you overthink and get scared of him suddenly stopping. He just constantly assures you that it will never happen.

“Y/n, let the boys take care of that! Why are you carrying heavy things?!” your manager suddenly steps in and stops you from what you’re doing.

You gave her a confused look as she calls some of the staffs to do it instead. You’ve been doing that before Lee Heeseung even happen and now she’s all worried that you’re carrying those boxes?

Lee Heeseung sure made your life way easier.

“It's fine, I can totally do this. Its my job.” you tried stopping her, but she glances and continuously shakes her head in disapproval.

“What?! No!” you can almost see the fear forming her eyes when you said those words. Not fear of tiring or overworking you, but fear of making you feel upset and getting on heeseung’s bad side.

“Can you believe her? She use to scold you so much for not moving those boxes right away.” your friend stood beside you, watching as the scene unfolds.

You let out a sigh, “Yeah.”

She glanced at you and scoffed, “Well I can’t really blame her. Who wants to mess with Lee Heeseung?” and she shrugs her shoulder before walking away.

You stood still and let yourself be drowned in your own thoughts. She’s definitely right. But you can’t really relate to their fear as you know damn well that the mafia they’re scared with? Is whipped for you.

Later that night you went home and showered to go straight to bed. Surprisingly, despite the same hours of shift, you aren’t that tired. You barely did the heavy works.

The bed that Lee Heeseung provided sure is pretty comfortable, it pulls you into dreamland right away. But in the middle of the night, you’re awoken by the continuous doorbell from your door.

Your eyes pries open, a little annoyed to be disturbed in a very inconvenient hour. The clock beside your bed flashes the numbers 5:03 am. It made you curse lightly as you push yourself up to go get the freaking door.

With your hair still a little disheveled and only wearing a tank top and sweatpants, you stride your dark hallway.

You didn’t even bother to check who it was and just burst the door open, ready to smack out of whoever it is that interrupted your sleep.

“Baby.” his husky low voice completely pulls you out of trance.

The annoyed look on your face vanishes into thin air and got replaced with confused expression. Lee Heeseung is standing in front of you, wearing a white longsleeves and slacks. Seems like he just got out from a meeting or something.

“Hee?” you managed to utter using your hoarse voice. He kept his icy stares on you.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why did you open the door without checking who it was? Are you always this reckless?” he hissed. You couldn’t take it seriously at the moment as you’re still astonished that he’s right here in front of you when he’s suppose to be still in another country.

“What are you doing here?” you repeated yourself.

He steps forward and kisses you on your forehead, a bit hard since he’s a little pissed by the fact that you’re being careless. He’s already thinking of sending 24 hours security guards right in front of your unit.

He sighs then reached over you, resting his hand on both of your hips.

“Let’s go.” he said that only added to your confusion.

He hold your hand, tugging it to guide you outside. Some of his men were already there, waiting. One of them secures the door as Heeseung continued pulling you somewhere.

“Heeseung!” you hissed and tries to stop him, but it was no use. Your built are no match on his.

“Aren’t you suppose to be in a business meeting outside the country?”

“Yes.” he answered, still not stopping and sparing you a glance.

Your brows furrowed, “Did you went straight here from your flight?” as you rack your eyes down to his outfit.

“Uh-huh.” he shortly replied, tightening his grip on your hand. It does not hurt so much, felt so warm tho.

“Where are you even taking me?” and tries not to stumble on your own feet. Your eyes dropped at your house slippers, pouting that it caught all the outside dirt thanks to him.

“We’re going to have some breakfast.” he smiles and opens the door to his car.

“I’m on my pajamas.” you informed him like he couldn’t see it himself.

He trailed his eyes from your head to toe.

“You still look beautiful.” he sincerely stated that awed you slightly.

How come he can still say that when you have no make up on and looking like a rug? He’s definitely something.

He gently pushes you to go inside and his last comment just poisoned your whole system that you didn’t even fight back. He successfully put your seatbelt before closing the door to walk around the vehicle.

“You can sleep more, baby. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.” he says while starting the car, the roaring sound its engine is too familiar for you already.

You rolled your eyes and made yourself comfortable, “You ruined my sleep.” you jokingly said.

He chuckles then effortlessly reaches for a blanket somewhere from the back to warm you up.

Since you’re still a little sleepy, you did drifted to sleep pretty easily. Which you regret sooner since the moment you open your eyes, you’re in a different seat.

“Why are we in a plane?” was your first question, slightly panicking.

Heeseung’s sat beside you.

“We’re having breakfast.”

You shoot him with a bashful look, “On a plane?” a private one, to be specific.

He chuckles, finding you adorable.

“No, silly. We’re going to Paris.”

To say that your eyes bulged out is an understatement.

“Paris?! Why?!” you exclaimed.

Heeseung has the audacity to look surprised by your reaction when he’s the one who took you from your unit then take you to a flight to Paris. And he said you’re having breakfast? In Paris?!

“Yeah,” he shrugs his shoulders. “you said you want to eat croissant.”

Your mouth gaps, couldn’t believe the man beside you. The fact that he looked so innocent while saying that as well is even more staggering for you.

“From the shop a few blocks away from my workplace!”

His eyes then softens then he blinks multiple times, finally realizing it.

“Oh...” he says.

You’re out of words and you two are occupied by silence for a while. This is totally unexpected. But what do you even expect? This is Lee Heeseung for god’s sake! He’s a man full of surprises, sometimes even unplanned.

You let out a sigh then looks out of the window, appreciating the beautiful blue skies decorated by white soft clouds.

“I can’t believe I’ll be in Paris for the first time wearing sweatpants.” you mumbled softly, like it was the biggest problem you have at the moment.

Heeseung reaches for your hand and kissed it, “We’ll just shop for a dress once we get there. Sounds better?”

You craned your neck to face him and stares deeply to his beautiful eyes. A small smile finally spreads across your face before you reached over his cheeks to caress it.

“Thank you so much.” and then you leans in to kiss him on his lips that caught him in utter shock.

“I can’t believe you agreed on coming in the first place! Those people were so mean to you!” she exclaimed as she watches how you’re scurrying to prepare for this dinner.

You looked at her through the mirror. She looks so stressed out while watching you put some make up on. Her eyes then trailed at your expensive dress— bought by Heeseung of course.

She inwardly smiles, you looked beautiful. Well, you always are. She sighs and got worried once again. She knew how bad those people treated you back in high-school so she can’t be at ease knowing you’ll be dining with them tonight.

“It will be alright, (friend name).” and gave her an assuring smile.

But at the back of your mind, you’re actually very worried as well. Scared of what may happen tonight. You convinced yourself that nothing will change unless you face those people who bullied you before. They will keep on torturing and hurting a part of you, thinking that they still have the upperhand on you.

For the first time, you wanted to stand up for yourself.

“And I can’t believe you’re going to that reunion without Heeseung. They’re probably bringing their partners to brag. You should too!”

“He’s probably busy.”

She snorted, “I bet my whole life savings, he will ditch whatever he’s doing just to go with you! That man is down bad for you.”

You chuckled with a blush on your cheeks, totally flustered about it. “You don’t even have savings, (friend name).”

She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to slap me with reality!”

“Just take Heeseung with you please? That way, I'll be more at ease.” she says in a very worried tone.

“(friend name), I can’t.” you sighs. She’s probably insisting this even more after knowing how you felt for the man.

“I genuinely love him and I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m using him.” you explained. Her eyes softens as her shoulder lowered in surrender.

“Fine, that sounds disgusting by the way!” she jokingly hissed at you then asked you to hurry up.

“Make sure to call me if something happens, okay?” she reminds you again when she drops you off at the said restaurant.

You chuckled at her, “Yes, Mom.” you answered sarcastically.

She shoot you glares. “I mean it, y/n.” she said.

You nodded, smiling warmly at her. She nods then waves after wishing you a great night. Your eyes follows her driving car and as it slowly disappear on your sight, your smile fell. Now that she’s not there to comfort you, uneasiness occupies you.

“You can do this, Y/n!” you cheered to yourself before deciding to walk inside.

It is a fine dining and you’re very thankful that Heeseung had bought you these kind of dresses. It fits the vibe so well.

“Reservation, miss?” the girl by the front desk greets you with a smile.

You nodded then returned the smile, lips shaking a little. After she checked which private room your ‘friends’ are, one of the staffs guided you to the room.

It was pretty loud when you arrived. Some greeted you, some can’t recognize you at all. Its been a while after-all.

“Y/n?” one of the girls who used to torment you before stood up from her seat and walks towards you.

Heads whipped to look on your direction, instantly making you uncomfortable. One of her brows raised as she scanned you with so much judgment.

“Nice dress,” a grin forms her red lips. “where did you rent it?” she added with so much sarcasm that made a lot of the people inside laugh.

Your heart cracks while watching them make fun of you. Just like old times. You nibble on your lower lip, smile long gone from your face. Fist balls beside you, air felt like it got stuck on your throat.

“Just joking!” she exclaims, still with that evil grin. Your eyes stares at hers and you know exactly she didn’t say that as a joke.

Her hand grabbed your arm then dragged you towards a table. You tried to halt her, already foreseeing what’s about to happen. But just like before, your mouth kept shut. You felt pathetic. You went here with a mindset that you will show them that you won’t let them make fun of you anymore and yet, here you are... still helpless.

“Guys, its y/n!” she says and forced you to sit down. You didn’t have any chance to resist as everyone on that table gave you their full attention.

Their faces aren’t friendly, same old gazes that pierced right through your soul. You feel sick on the stomach.

“How’s life y/n? Still working on that restaurant?” (name) asks taunting. She’s the most popular girl on your batch and also the meanest one.

She looked pretty and elegant with her branded dress. Her family is kind of well off, mainly why she got away from bullying you throughout high-school. It was always easy for her. Life is always on her favor.

“Gosh! That’s so embarrassing.” the other commented, she’s the one who forced you to sit at this table.

All of them laughed and agrees. You unconsciously roamed your eyes around everyone seated and it caught on Sander. (name) is sat beside him, probably chasing after him like old times. She’s always been head over heels for him.

He’s the most popular guy on your batch and often paired with (name). He has this small smirk on his lips while everyone laughs at you. It was horrible. You didn’t actually had a serious feelings for him, but it was given that almost every girl slightly had a crush on him. He was that hit back then.

You felt small while fidgeting your fingers under the table. Just by looking at them, you realized how it was before. How they used to bully you back in high-school, belittling you for being poor. You hated it. You hated them. You still do.

The mean things they’re saying is too much so you stood up, making all of them look at your way. (Name), cocks her brows and smirks.

“I-I’ll just go to the bathroom.” and you turned around, ready to leave when you suddenly bumped into something—more like someone.

“Going somewhere, baby?” a familiar husky voice asks.

You’re too immersed to how (name) humiliates you that you failed to notice how the other tables grew quiet at the arrival of someone that doesn’t belong there.

The table you’re in slowly grow silent as well, noticing the tall man right in front of you. His toned arms now snaking over your waist to tug you closer to him.

“Hey...” he softly calls when he noticed how stiffed you got. At a slow pace, you lifted your head to see Heeseung’s soft eyes watching you carefully.

He is really here. You felt your heart swells and finally you felt safe. Your hand rests at his chest, lips shakes because of too much emotion.

“L-Lee Heeseung?” one girl exclaims, totally astounded by his presence.

Some of the men on that table look thrilled as well. They knew him, everyone in this room does. They know his power and influence.

He didn’t spare that girl any glance and just focused on you. His jaw clenches after noticing how you’re shaken up. It didn’t took him long to put piece and piece together. He understands what’s happening right away.

He roamed his icy glares over to the people occupying your table. One by one, like as if trying to remember each and everyone of them. The look on their face instantly changes, some even looked pale.

“U-Uhm,” (name) looked really scared. You’ve never seen her this way. And you’re not gonna lie, its a pleasure to your eyes.

“Lee Heeseung, wow!” Kent, one of your batchmates. He’s not particularly mean to you before, but he does laugh from time to time.

And there’s this one time where he offers for you to date him and got mad when you refused. Saying that you’re just a nobody and how dumb you are for actually saying no to him.

“Nice to meet you, man! Come on, sit down first.” he offers enthusiastically and even pulled the chair beside yours.

Heeseung stood still and quiet. People easily got intimidated. He heaved a sigh and you know he’s about to start saying something, but you beat him to it.

“We’ll be g-going.” you announced lowly. You aren’t even sure if they heard. Some whipped their heads at you with a look of disbelief on their faces.

(name) stares at you with a confused and a bit annoyed look on her pretty face. And with all the courage left on you, you said, “My boyfriend and I will leave now.”

Heeseung got stoned on his position when he heard that. Thankfully, you grabbed him by his arm then dragged him out of there. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to do it. But since you definitely caught him off-guard, you managed to drag Lee Heeseung out of there.

You can feel everyone’s eyes darted at the two of you and the whole room remains quiet as you take your leave. That doesn’t matter. You just want to get out of that place.

“Wait,” he halts and instantly, you stopped too. He held your arm then yanked you back near his body.

“Hold on, baby.” he licks his lips then blinks multiple times. “Let’s talk.”

Thankfully, you’re already by the parking lot. A few people are around, but its better them than those people inside.

You noticed a few familiar vehicles of Heeseung’s men along with his expensive sports car that he often used whenever picking you up.

“I j-just want to get out of here, please.” your pleading and tear stained eyes broke Heeseung. He wanted so bad to ruin those people inside. Everyone who made fun and even the bystanders. He doesn’t care. He will make sure they will pay for making you cry. For making his baby upset.

His large hands cupped your cheeks, “We will.” he huffs, calming himself. “I just need to confirm something.”

You kept your stare right at him, waiting for what he’s going to ask. You already knew what it was and initially, you planned on telling it to him in a different situation.

But it was already clear as a daylight. You love Lee Heeseung and ever since he was around, he always made you feel so special. Like you aren’t just someone. That you actually have value and that you don’t just exist in this world... you have a place here.

“Baby, I’m your what again?” he asks, very eager to hear those words from you again.

His brain already short circuited the first time you said it and he highly doubts it wouldn’t happen on the second time. Specially now that you are alone with him.

“My boyfriend.” you answered confidently.

Heeseung heart races and he felt like fireworks bursted inside his chest. He’s undescribably happy about it. He blinked mutliple times.

“You didn’t say that to only escape that place, right?” he asks, a little nervous. It amused you. You never knew this mafia boy is even capable of having that kind of emotion.

You let out a sigh and held his arm, caressing it softly. Then you gave him this assuring smile.

“No. That’s why I didn’t even ask you to come here. I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you.”

His eyes softens even more, if that’s even possible. Heeseung just loves you so deeply that the thought of being used by you doesn’t even bothered him. It's fine, as long as you’ll want him beside you. He’ll take anything just to be close to you.

Then your loving gaze turns into a glare.

“What are you even doing here?” you ask like a cop interrogating a suspect.

He smirks, “I missed you so I asked somebody to check on you... it happens that you’re heading to this event.” he chuckles. “I thought I could pay you a visit just to check if some guys would try to hit on you.” and he even raised an eyebrow.

You scoffed then rolled your eyes, “As if! You’re the one who walked there looking like a snack! You probably caught the attention of the pretty girls at that table!”

His eyes sparkles, “Really?”

Your face turned sour then you gave him a bashful look.

“Did I really caught your attention?” he asks, sounding a bit excited.

You got confused then let out a big sigh when you realized he got it wrongly.

“Heeseung,” you uttered in a very serious tone that made him stand up straight, giving you his full attention.

You felt your heart thumped louder, feeling nervous now that he’s so focused on you.

“Unlike you, I have nothing special to offer you. I only got a high-school diploma and 20 dollars in my bank account.” you tried to make it sound a joke to ease the tension because he’s staring so intensely.

He kept silent for a while.

“Do you love me?” he suddenly asks that made you all flustered, cheeks and ears turning red.

You blinked then cleared your throat.

“I don’t see how is that relevant in this conversation—”

“Do you love me, Y/n?” he repeated himself, this time even more serious.

You gulpes nervously, getting drawn by his piercing beautiful eyes.

“Yes.” you answered confidently.

He sighs in contentment and smiles gently. His eyes glisten with so much happiness that it made you wonder why.

“Then that’s good enough for me.” he stated that melts your heart instantly.

He took a step closer, making your bodies touch. Cupping your face once again then rest his forehead on yours.

“I love you, Hee.” you suddenly said that made his heart leap in joy.

Heeseung is in trance. He never knew that he’s capable of feeling all these things towards one person. He has no regrets pursuing you. If anything, he’s very much willing to do it again and again.

“I love you even more, y/n.” he whispers then kisses your forehead, then your nose and then pulls away slightly to look you in the eyes.

“You just made me the happiest man alive.” and he leans in for the much awaited kiss.

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @ayayiiie @aeyeree @heeseung-min @in-somnias-world @psh-pjh @hveanlyanqelic @woocury

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keiteay · 1 year ago

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Birds of a feather

#seminole towne center #burdines #dead mall #vacant #sanford #florida #liminal spaces #liminalcore #photography #interior photography #original photography #photographers on tumblr #justgoshoot #moodygrams #kei teay

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cadavercowboy · 1 month ago

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O Come, All Ye Frightful

Art The Clown x Reader | WC: 5.3k+ | Explicit Content

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Santa actually comes way more than once a year. Warnings: 18+ ONLY — Minors DNI. Idk this entire thing feels slightly sacrilegious. Art being criminally hot in the Santa suit while behaving like a Certified Freak. Slightly dubious consent. Handjob. Premature ejaculation. Multiple orgasms (his refractory period is non-existent). Cum as lube. Unprotected sex. Rough sex. Choking & breath play. Degradation if you squint really hard. A/N: In the words of my iconic king...ho, ho, UH OH🎄Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and so on and so forth. <3

The clock hands finally crawl their way past 7pm and you sigh tiredly, knowing you’ll soon be freed from this hellish holiday prison. Christmas music plays quietly from the speaker system and you mouth the words mockingly, tired of hearing the same dozen or so songs repeat over and over during each shift. Between rude, entitled customers and the unruly hordes of children screaming their heads off for a chance to beg a fake Old Saint Nick for crap they definitely don’t need, you’ve just about had your fill of the season.

Outside the store, the rest of the deserted shopping mall has been left in engulfing shrouds of pitch-blackness; the other closed-down and empty shops like a line of pocket-sized abysses. It’s Christmas Eve and everyone else has shut their doors early to spend time with loved ones. You should be home too, but your boss is a heartless prick.

You huff with annoyed boredom, bent over beside the register with your elbows planted atop the counter and your palms cradling your chin. It’s been dead for hours—not a single customer in sight—but you’ve been forbidden to leave until the mall officially closes for the night. A quick glance at the clock says that’ll be in about an hour or so. Just beyond the entryway, a flurry of movement near the floor catches your attention and you lean over the counter to see what it is.

The dingy strands of an old mop sweep into view and your eyes trace along the wooden handle until they land upon Mike, clad in his loose-fitting uniform. His long legs bring him into view with stuttered steps as he cleans the tiled floors. He spares you a quick glance and a wave which you return, trying to hide your obvious disappointment in the presence of the headphones planted firmly over his ears. You’d kill for some conversation right now.

Aside from the janitor’s brief visit and the flash of someone dressed all in red in the distance, you’re certain the building is otherwise totally vacant. With that in mind, you decide to pack it up just a little early. What your boss doesn’t know won’t kill him, you muse.

Your back is turned as you straighten merchandise and lock the door to the rear exit, rendering you completely unaware of the noiseless presence lurking and watching you from just around the corner. When you close out the register, your head is buried in the drawer and your attention is too focused on what you’re doing to notice the tall figure which glides sneakily past the shop.

You flip the switches near the door and step outside, reaching over your head to pull down the steel security gate. The heavy contraption slams shut with a resounding clang and you crouch with your key in hand to lock it in place. From your stooped position, you spot a small puddle and several oddly-shaped droplets splashed across the tile floor beneath you; the substance opaque and viscous. You hum contemplatively, knowing Mike had been by not long ago to mop and wondering where the mystery liquid could have come from. With a dismissive shrug, you stand back up and turn to head for your usual exit, the only door you know will still be unlocked at this hour.

A single row of recessed lights remain lit overhead, lending a somewhat spooky atmosphere to the abandoned concourse. You reach up to whip the red-and-green felted elf hat off of your head, the decorative gold bell jingling as you shove it into the pocket of your matching dress. A pair of tight, flesh-toned stockings hug your legs and you long to peel them off. While the uniform is fun and festive, this year you’re feeling decidedly not. In fact, you’d go as far as to deem yourself unjolly. Even as you absently hum along to the tune still filtering through the mall, you aren’t feeling your usual holiday joy.

Passing through the food court, you approach the center of the mall where the massive North Pole backdrop still stands, illuminated beneath the silvery halo of a light that never gets turned off. You laugh to yourself, wondering whether a selfie inside Santa’s sleigh in your silly costume might help to prompt some Christmas cheer. You'd deemed yourself too old to take a photo with the man himself during business hours, but you still deserve to have a little fun on your own time, you suppose.

With renewed energy, you traipse towards the yuletide scenery where you find the zig-zagging velvet ropes blocking your way, but easily slip beneath the blockade between two posts. Once you’ve entered the empty queue, you spy a comically large pair of black boots sticking up from inside the sleigh—propped casually on the curled front. Your heart stops at the exact moment the ambient music cuts off and the wide-open space falls eerily silent. It would appear you aren’t as alone as you thought.

A familiar red hat peeks over the back of the cushioned bench seat and you approach cautiously, admittedly hoping to find the rosy-cheeked man who usually occupies the sleigh. Maybe you’ll be permitted to take a photo with Santa after all, as childish as the notion may be.

What you actually find is alarmingly opposite of what you expected. The face tucked beneath the fur-rimmed hat isn’t jolly or round, nor is it warm or welcoming. It’s harsh and angular, painted in a stark black-and-white motif; seemingly done up for the wrong holiday altogether. A long, lithe body clad in all the trappings of a traditional Santa suit reclines leisurely in the sleigh, crowding the confined space as if he belongs there. Blackened lips wrap around the blunt tip of a candy cane and upon hearing your startled gasp, a pair of pure white eyes—spectral and inhuman—lock onto your face. The darkened pupils shine like two specks of coal.

Art’s expression twists into one of genuine surprise, having not expected you to come across him quite so soon. Your eyebrows flick upwards and he mirrors the gesture, waiting with barely restrained excitement as the wave of confusion contorting your face is swiftly replaced with the tell-tale signs of apprehension he knows and loves. His stomach knots with gleeful anticipation.

“S-sorry,” you laugh, awkward and breathy. “I thought you were Santa.”

The clown immediately hurls the peppermint candy aside and his oversized shoes come down with a loud thud as he hastily sits upright in the sleigh. Art points frantically to the massive banner overhead that bears the namesake, then gestures to himself; seemingly wanting to indicate that he is in fact Santa Claus. You can only chuckle in amusement, but when he emphatically waves in an attempt to have you join him where he sits, you realize he isn’t joking.

Your smile falters only a little and with a dismissive lift of your hand, you attempt to politely decline his request. Art is not pleased with this response so he childishly stamps his feet and crosses his arms over his chest as he regards you with an exaggerated and churlish pout. When he tries crooking a beckoning finger in your direction, an actual laugh escapes unbidden. His surly expression of disappointment softens slightly at the sound and his hope renews. He attempts once more to entice you, this time patting a velvet-clad thigh with his hand and even offering an inviting if not unsettling smile.

Something about the animated stranger intrigues you and you find yourself compelled to accept the clown’s invitation. You relent with some hesitation, smoothing your palms over the knee-length skirt of your elf dress and shuffling timidly towards the sleigh. Art can hardly contain himself and twists his body, looking swiftly from side to side as if struggling to remain calm and seated. You lift your foot onto the raised platform and slide your way into the tight space with him.

Art continues to wiggle back and forth restlessly, his knees pressed tightly together as he pats them excitedly with both hands before eventually straightening his spine and adjusting himself until his posture is stiff and proper. A rush of air bursts from your nose as you laugh nervously. The celebratory clapping of his palms is muffled slightly by his fingerless gloves as he waits for you to plant yourself in his lap. You do so gingerly, lowering yourself with as much finesse as you can manage and situating your bottom at the very edge of Art’s bony knees.

You’re perched awkwardly only for a moment because Art promptly yanks you in, spreading his own legs so abruptly that you nearly tumble to the floor of the sleigh between his feet. The jarring movement forces you to reach out, grabbing onto his shoulder with one hand to balance yourself as he wraps an arm around your waist and uses the other hand to nestle both of your legs between his parted thighs. Your hip is so close to his body, you can feel the warmth emanating off of him and notice a distinct lack of the customary belly you’d normally expect to find beneath the velvety soft suit.

“Sorry,” you apologize a second time, clearing your throat with a smile and another awkward chuckle as you fold your hands in your lap. “This is probably weird...me sitting on a grown man’s lap.”

Art responds with a scandalized, open-mouthed frown and a firm shake of his head that makes the white pom-pom sewn at the end of his hat flop back and forth. He blinks his eyes rapidly and swishes a gloved hand in your direction, effectively batting away your concerns. It’s clear he finds little issue in having you perched on his thigh.

When Art leans uncomfortably close, you stiffen, though he pays it no mind and peers around your shoulders to look at one of the props which comprise the festive scene. It’s a crooked sign whimsically nailed to a red-and-white striped pole that begs the question: What Do You Want For Christmas? He sweeps his hand towards the signage—inviting and expectant—prompting you to provide an answer.

“Hmm,” you stall, having not expected the creepy clown to go through all the motions of the mall Santa experience. You shift with a huff and his arm tightens around you as his other hand pats the outside of your thigh in what you suppose is meant to be some semblance of encouragement. It only serves to distract, filling your head with a disorienting buzz at the near-intimate closeness of this complete stranger. “Guess I haven’t really given it much thought.”

He considers your admittance for a moment, his face slack and pensive before he shrugs. Art releases his hold on your thigh in favor of diving a hand into a pocket in the pants of his red suit. To your surprise, out comes an artfully weathered scroll of paper that he unrolls with a quick flick of his delicate wrist. Evidently another prop, it contains names written in two columns—apparently a naughty and nice list. Art tips his head towards the paper and regards you inquisitively, as if asking which side you belong on.

“Well, I think the nice list,” you offer, happily playing along. “But I’m not entirely sure what it would take to end up on the naughty list.”

The clown tilts his head and regards you like a predator, grinning salaciously and wagging his thinly-drawn eyebrows in a way that causes an undeniable heat to stir low in your belly. You squirm in the clown’s lap and he playfully squeezes your leg just above your knee. Your cheeks prickle with something you’d rather not acknowledge and suddenly you can no longer meet Art’s pale gaze. Endeavoring to assuage your growing discomfort, you redirect your attention back to why you’d come over here in the first place.

“Would you mind if I took a picture of us?” you inquire politely.

Art acquiesces quite gladly and frantically nods in agreement, his obvious enthusiasm making you smile. You shift your weight to access the deep pocket of your costume and his colorless eyes follow your every move.

“You don’t talk very much, do you?”

The conversational question somehow sounds more invasive out loud than it had in your head and you turn to dig around determinedly in your pocket so as to disguise the way you cringe. Luckily, your phone slides out and brings with it the floppy elf hat you’d shoved in there earlier, leaving no time for Art to respond. Not that he would.

The clown moves swiftly, snatching the crumpled felt hat and violently unfurling it with a loud jingle. His mouth forms a perfect circle of delight and he gives the hat several more shakes just to hear the musical tinkling before lifting both arms to gently fit it over the top of your head.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you say, bending to allow him better access and smirking when he playfully flicks the little gold bell sewn on the end.

He adjusts the hat to his liking, then taps a single long digit on the tip of your nose. You duck your head bashfully, though he doesn’t allow you to hide for long. Two slender fingers hook under your chin and he lifts you by the jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes in a silent stare that stretches on until your pulse increases and your entire body grows hot.

Turning your attention to the phone clutched in your fingers, you beg your hands not to shake as you open the camera app and lift the device to align both yourself and Art in the frame, making sure to include the beautifully decorated tree in the background. The clown is so large, you have to extend your arm to its limit in order to fit him. As you do, his eyes meet your own in the image reflected on the screen and he draws his body even closer to yours. One of his hands drop into your lap and the other rests gently against your lower back. You swallow loudly.

“Smile,” you command softly, struggling to make your lips lift in a gesture that doesn’t reflect the conflicting feelings of trepidation and attraction brewing within you.

Art’s grin slashes across his face in an instant, a wide set of teeth suddenly emerging from behind his inky lips. His ghostly eyes burst open and his eyelids all but disappear with the exaggerated stretch of his face. The abrupt appearance of the severe expression makes your stomach curl with unease, but you cannot deny the way the thrilling glimmer of fear settles somewhere a little further down.

You snap a couple of photos, then switch the angle to capture a few more. When you drop your arm slightly, Art repositions himself as well. With the hand that had settled in your lap, he reaches up to cup your chin and draw your face nearer to his. This close, your senses cloud with nothing but the clown: the earthy scent of grease paint mixed with something spicy, the warmth of his nearness and touch, the subtle whisper of his steady breathing.

His painted skin is unexpectedly soft when it rests against your own and he goofily purses his lips against your cheek like a teenage girl taking a silly selfie. While the pose appears playful, the painful way his fingertips pinch the flesh of your face against the firm edge of your jawbone is anything but. Shock zings through your body, though the heat it carries isn’t due entirely to surprise. Art holds you with unrelenting force and your smile weakens even further as you fire off several more snapshots.

Before you can lower your phone, Art’s hand ventures from the small of your back until it settles between your shoulder blades. Its counterpart finally falls away from your face, instead reaching for the illuminated screen and switching over to a video before returning to firmly encircle your throat. Your breath catches and you suddenly feel as though you may overheat. The furry cuff of his suit presses against your cleavage, the synthetic material quickly absorbing the warmth that rolls off of your body in waves. Your hand shakes so much, you doubt the recording will even be watchable.

When Art turns his head, the tip of his pointed nose drags sensually along your jaw and his grinning mouth opens with an audible slickness. Humid puffs of breath skitter along your hypersensitive flesh, a prelude to the wetness of his tongue wriggling lasciviously along your cheek and up towards your temple.

You’re paralyzed—arm still hovering parallel to the floor—frozen beneath the disbelief of Art’s seductive attention and held still by the increasing pressure surrounding your neck. You know you should tell him to stop or push him away, but you just can’t bring yourself to put an end to the suggestive way he holds you prisoner and samples the saltiness of your skin.

As quickly as he licked your face, Art stops and you cease filming with your phone, hardly able to comprehend what you’ve just recorded. His mouth snaps shut with force and his hands slip away from your body as if burned by the contact. To your surprise, he carries on as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened and steadies you in his lap as he pitches to one side.

Reaching into a bag stashed near his feet, Art presents you with a single candy cane. Your head is still reeling from the hot, wet drag of his tongue across your skin and it takes a moment for your brain to catch up to what your eyes are seeing. The hooked confection is waved tantalizingly in front of your face before you manage to raise a hand and accept it.

“T-thank you,” your words emerge barely a breathy whisper.

The cellophane crinkles slightly in your grasp and you robotically stuff your phone back into your pocket. Your body moves on autopilot as you plant your feet and shift to stand, but Art’s sinewy arm bands around your waist and crushes you right back into his lap. It seems to jostle you from your stupor and you blink several times before turning to face the mysterious clown. He reaches out and snatches the candy cane from your hand, causing you momentary concern that you’ve done something to offend him by trying to leave.

He proceeds to methodically unwrap the candy with theatrical flair, then holds it out to you, indicating a desire for you to eat it here and now. You hum in understanding and attempt to take the candy cane, however Art pulls it away with a chiding look and instead directs it towards your mouth himself. Staring incredulously, you watch with niggling suspicion as the clown nods in encouragement, a glint of something sinister flickering in his white irises.

Your lips part obediently and though you do so somewhat clumsily, you lean forward and—as requested—allow the candy to slip into your mouth. Sweet peppermint flavor bursts across your taste buds and your mouth instantly begins to water. Art studies you with unflinching and steadfast attention as he feeds you, his pupils expanding into deep, dark pools of hunger. While the act is bizarre and slightly humiliating, you find yourself inexplicably turned on; exhilarated by the pleased way in which Art’s open-mouthed expression seems to silently praise your compliance.

Perhaps it’s how intimately close you are to his monochrome face or the way he shamelessly watches the lewd swirling of your tongue with such rapt, appreciative awe, but you find yourself clenching your thighs in an attempt to quell the sudden wetness blooming between your legs. Art takes notice of your restless predicament and his body responds in kind, blood rushing to his loins where he begins to harden against you.

Without warning, Art yanks the candy cane from your mouth, giving no thought to the way the sharp, hard sugar scrapes painfully along your bottom lip. He plunges the spit-sheened end of it into his own mouth, savoring the taste of you and coating it with his own saliva before carelessly shoving it past your now-bleeding lips once more.

You’re unsure what possesses you to behave so wantonly, but you lock eyes with the clown and practically swallow the narrow cylinder of candy whole; being mindful of the slight point your sucking had formed, but taking it deep into your mouth until your lips meet the tips of Art’s fingers where he holds the curved end of the candy cane. For good measure, you even let out a throaty moan that shatters the quiet of the empty mall.

His drawn-on eyebrows raise so high, they disappear behind the furry brim of his hat and his mouth rounds into a humorous circle of facetious astonishment. This time, he removes the candy cane from your lips more gently, ignoring the thin strand of saliva that follows it. With the list he had procured earlier back in hand, Art takes the pointed end of the candy cane and uses it as a pencil, pretending to add your name to the naughty column. He smiles proudly and fakes a hearty laugh before blindly tossing the props over his shoulder.

You lick your sticky, bloody lips and try once more to slide off of Art’s lap. When he latches onto you this time, something noticeable shifts in his demeanor. Whether it is the darkening of his eyes or the muscles in his body growing taut and coiling like a beast prepared to pounce, it is blatant and frightening. Your skin prickles with apprehensive awareness, though your aching center doesn’t seem to receive the same message.

A breathy cry escapes you when Art harshly twists your body around, pulling you away from his thigh and settling you directly over his pelvis where you immediately feel an unmistakable ridge of firmness through the thin material of his suit. You have no choice but to allow all of your weight to rest against him as Art holds you down and begins to grind against your ass. He isn’t testing your reaction to his advances like you might have expected, rather the distinct lack of shyness in the unhurried rotation of his hips indicates something more like a warning of what’s to come.

Unsure what else to do with your idle hands, you reach behind yourself and brace either palm on the clown’s writhing hips. Your biceps quiver with the effort to ease at least some of your weight off of Art’s lap, but he’s having none of it. He yanks you down fully and even parts his thighs wider to facilitate more contact between your body and his painfully hard erection. You’re overcome with your own bout of carnal need and reciprocate his enthusiasm, swiveling your hips with determined precision.

Art has only known physical contact through the occasional struggle of a terrified victim’s body against his own and this new sensation is totally foreign to him. The stimulation is overwhelmingly pleasant—a particular faction of indulgent self-gratification yet unfamiliar to him—and he leans into the strangeness of it. His body’s reaction is swift and imminent. Art’s arms twine around you with disconcerting strength that renders you immobile, practically squeezing all the air from your lungs as a powerful shiver wracks his trembling body.

The clown makes no sound, but he hotly exhales the relief of his release against the back of your sweat-dampened neck. His hold is unrelenting, trapping you close to the solid heat of his lanky frame for a moment longer until he recovers. However, his composure does not return and instead he’s burdened with a new and curious hunger which instantly begs to be sated.

Art presses both hands to your lower back and shoves you forward onto his right knee, creating enough space between your bodies to access the elastic waistband of his crimson costume. His gloved hands move with grace and speed, easily freeing himself from the suffocating velvet prison. The consuming fire in your belly beckons you to turn and look at him and in doing so, you fan the flames into a raging inferno of desire.

A light sheen of sweat decorates the narrow sliver of skin that is visible between the disheveled halves of the rumpled Santa suit. Beads of cum still ooze from the tip of his length and evidence of his orgasm smears messily along the pale skin of a thick and visibly hard cock. With lust-driven bravery, you reach for it, desperate to feel the solid heat of the turgid flesh against your palm and yearning to quench a lecherous thirst of your own.

The tacky streaks of Art’s release wet your skin as you grip his swollen dick and give him an experimental squeeze. You slide your fisted hand from the reddened, shiny tip all the way down the veiny shaft until your knuckles meet the cum-matted thatch of hair at the base. The engorged appendage throbs noticeably in your grasp and Art’s shoulders drop as he throws his head back. His white irises roll and disappear behind his hooded eyelids, his body thrashing with stilted, stuttered jolts as your fingers tighten and you take advantage of the glide of his slick spend to begin steadily jerking him off.

When your thumb sweeps over the sensitive head, Art flinches at the stimulation and a milky rope of cum spills lazily from the slit. The warm strand of seed splashes across the back of your hand and in a flash, he’s rudely batting your sticky fingers away from his cock with a sharp slap.

You’ve barely recovered from the harsh contact when his spindly fingers delve under your skirt and tear at your tights until the delicate threads come apart and allow him access to your panties which he yanks unceremoniously down your thighs, the garment tangling in the torn stockings still wrapped around your legs. Art’s hands dig claw-like into the flesh of your upper arms, brutishly twisting and turning you as he pleases; dragging you back into his lap so he can lift your hips high enough to notch the tumescent head of his cock at your center.

A grating cry rips from your throat and echoes through the cavernous building when you’re violently yanked down and stretched with sudden force around Art’s erected cock. Though unprepared for the size of him, your cunt swallows the clown’s length with little trouble. As your lips part with an unbridled cry of ecstasy, your cheeks sting with shame at how the flood of moisture leaking from your core eases the harsh penetration, the momentum of you taking Art’s cock halted only on account of his considerable girth.

Finally managing to get your feet under you, you scramble to escape the dizzying pressure and overwhelming penetration so you can catch your breath, but Art refuses to allow you a single second of reprieve. He stands abruptly without ever pulling free of your relenting body, sinking his cock unbelievably deeper as he bends you over the curved front of the sleigh. Your elbows crash painfully into the hard surface when you attempt to catch yourself before your face makes contact. As you adjust your position, your hips drop in a way that forces the bulbous head of Art’s length to grind against you with blinding pleasure and your knees grow weak.

With your eyes pinched shut against the onslaught of sensations, you can’t see Art reaching towards the massive Christmas tree to unravel a length of perfectly-strewn ribbon. He yanks the metallic gold material free and gives it a dramatic twirl through the air before lashing it across your back the same way Santa whips his trusty team of reindeer, ushering you to continue writhing so willingly along his slippery cock.

Art quickly grows bored of that and instead takes the ribbon between two fists with a flourish while he continues to thrust leisurely; burying his cock to the root then slowly, tortuously, and teasingly dragging it back out until only the tip remains within your spongy walls. He reaches over your head with the ribbon, taking advantage of your parted mouth to wedge the scratchy material between your lips. It pulls taut and settles between your teeth, becoming the perfect means for Art to wrench your head back at an uncomfortable angle. His eyes widen comically when they meet yours upside down in a taunting stare, holding your gaze hostage as he starts to fuck you mercilessly.

Mounting you like a feral animal, Art becomes desperate with the need to wreck you wholly; driven by the desire to possess and consume you. His hips surge with unforgiving and powerful thrusts that have his heavy balls slapping your clit with each stroke.

You call out on every deep drive of his cock, the unsteady and unpredictable rhythm sending you into a tailspin of pleasure that robs you of the ability to breathe. Drool and tears spill down your face, the harried sounds he forces from you catching in your throat as you gasp for air. The hat crammed down on your head falls sideways, its cadenced jingling a derisive reminder of the depraved things the clown is inflicting on you.

Before long, the frenzied push and pull of his cock isn’t enough for Art and his lips split with a snarl, his teeth bared in a savage display of greed. Nothing but complete surrender will satisfy him and only total ruin could fulfill his recently unmasked libido. He wants to watch you fall apart and the evil motive shines brightly in his unsettling eyes.

Using your tongue, you force the spit-soaked material from your mouth so it falls around your neck. Art gathers it in one hand and pulls tight, fashioning the glittery ribbon into a sort of noose that begins to choke you out. While the position of your head is more comfortable, the lack of oxygen certainly isn’t.

Your grow light-headed both from the inability to breathe and the unrelenting grind of Art’s fat cock. With his unoccupied hand, he grabs your waist with bruising pressure and pins you in place so he can curl his towering frame over top of you. Blanketed beneath the heat and heft of the impassioned clown, your ribcage presses agonizingly against the edge of the sleigh and you can do nothing but accept Art’s brutal usage of your body.

Bending his knees, he leverages his height to fuck up into you with rapid and shallow thrusts before he cruelly buries every inch of himself inside you. Your slick walls spasm around the thick, veiny intrusion as an orgasm slams through you. Art cums with you as your pussy ripples and squeezes, but he has no intention of relenting. He ruts wildly against your ass, fucking you harder and faster until your juices spill around him and your combined fluids form a creamy ring around the throbbing base of his cock.

You bite back a scream when Art pulls out of you with a vindictively mimed laugh. The sudden termination of your pleasure sends you tumbling to the ground on unsteady legs that refuse to hold you up any longer. Twisting as you fall, you’re met with the sight of Art looming tall and ominous above your crumpled form. With his thickening cock in hand, he fists himself like a madman, crowding over you just in time to paint your face with yet another burst of cum. Ropes of opaque fluid splatter messily over your features.

The clown gives his length several harsh shakes, managing to flick a few more measly drops of his release onto your stained skin. Your face twinkles and sparkles in the light coming from overhead, appropriately looking like flecks of snow melted on your cheeks and lips. Clapping happily above you, Art offers you a decidedly proud thumbs-up of approval, deciding you fit in rather perfectly with the rest of the festive decor.

David Howard Thornton Masterlist || Writing Masterpost

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