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impale-me-radio-daddy · 2 months

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Heaven Spent

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, guided masturbation, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy and tits, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

Now has a sequel: Hell 2 Pay!

You weren’t a real exorcist, not really. You didn’t pass the wingspan requirement for a start, or, as the Lieutenant never ceased to remind you, the strength requirements. You were never getting selected into one of the lucky squads who got to go down to Hell and do battle with demons. But you had begged to join, and everyone needed someone to sweep the floors and do laundry, and so, that was you, swooping through the exorcist barracks with a mop and bucket while everyone around you trained in combat.

Most of the exorcists didn’t even acknowledge your existence. You were invisible, inaudible, the help. The big exception to the rule was Lieutenant’s strongest soldier, Vagina. You would see her training tirelessly, on the practice grounds after all the others had left, and bring her a fresh towel and a pitcher of iced lemonade. She would smile at you. She knew your name. When you started talking about something that interested you, she didn’t tell you to go away or walk off.

In all of Heaven, Vagina was the closest thing you had to a friend.

And then, one day, the squads had come back from their battles with the forces of Hell, and she had been gone. No-one had wanted to look you in the eye, no-one even mentioned her name. Gone. Dead? No, Vagina was Heaven’s strongest soldier, you’d heard Adam say as much. There was no way she could be dead.

Had they left her behind? Every day your thoughts were plagued by thoughts of Vagina stuck behind enemy lines, Hell’s forces doing terrible things to her. And of course the Lieutenant wouldn’t send more exorcists after her; how could she risk Heaven’s forces for the wellbeing of a single soldier? But you? You were disposable. You were no asset to Adam’s forces, your wings so malformed that you could barely fly, and with Vagina gone there wasn’t anyone who would miss you on a personal level.

With your access to the exorcists’ laundry, it was easy to assemble a makeshift uniform for yourself, a spare sword strapped to your waist as you lined up with the departing squads. The masks disguised everyone’s faces, so no-one looked twice at you. You filtered out the chatter of the exorcists around you as you watched the portal to Hell open, a glowing circle with a core of deep red.

You would find Vagina, and return to Heaven with her, useful at last. Maybe the Lieutenant would be so impressed that she would make you a full exorcist.

Vox slurped his kale and spirulina smoothie as he watched the descending horde of angels through fifteen distinct drone feeds. This year’s purge was uncharacteristically quiet in the Vee tower; Valentino was doing some sort of romantic make-up dinner with one of his sluts and Velvette was organizing some sort of augmented reality event where sinners ran the length of the city taking selfies without getting killed by exorcists, which left Vox holding down the fort.

One of the systems gave a beep as it picked up an anomaly. Now that, that was interesting. It looked like the pack had a straggler this year. Vox picked a drone to fly closer, opening a channel to Velvette as he did so.

“-you better not be taking the piss, Vox. I’m sort of a tiny bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hear me out, this could be big,” said Vox, and Velvette gave a snort but went quiet. “Any of your fuckheads out near the west side of the pentagram?”

One of your wings was bigger than the other. That was just how it was, just a little defect that made it difficult to fly, and almost impossible to fly long distances. When you had asked about it, Saint Peter had patted you on the shoulder and told you that everyone was special in different ways. And you had accepted that. Some people got beautiful singing voices, or brains that could do mathematics faster than anyone else’s, and you got one wing that was smaller than the other, primary feathers growing in with a slight curl that meant your flight was wobbly and exhausting.

And that was just part of God’s plan.

What was not part of God’s plan, it seemed, was for you to keep up with the squads of exorcists descending to Hell. They sped up as they passed through the portal, the pack quickly speeding up to a pace that your wings could no longer carry you at. You found yourself drifting behind, panting as you beat your wings to correct your uneven path.

Strangely, you didn’t see the forces of Hell rising to do battle, but you supposed you were inexperienced in this sort of thing. The last time you’d even swung a sword had been at the exorcist tryouts. Giving up on catching up with the pack, you hung back, your wingbeats slowing as you surveyed the city below from your wobbly vantage point. You should find somewhere to hide, you reasoned, until the battle was over and you could look for Vagina safely.

Finding Vagina in Hell was harder than you would have guessed. Even after you shed your exorcist disguise and folded your wings away, people didn’t really want to talk to you, and when you started asking about Vagina, faces turned covetous, and people started asking for money. Which, of course, you didn’t have. You didn’t need money in Heaven, why would people want it in Hell? But everywhere you asked, the answer was the same. If you wanted to know about Vagina, you needed money. And if you wanted money, well, you needed a job.

That's how you found yourself in a line of sinners three miles long, for an open audition for a spokesperson for something called Angelic Security, a subdivision of something called VoxTek. You weren’t going for the audition itself, but a sinner had offered you money to queue for them, and queuing was a pretty morally decent, angel-appropriate act. You knew how to queue. You could queue for days.

You were queuing when a fish demon with a VoxTek nametag walked past, on a video call with someone important, the other side of the conversation blaring out the speakers of his tablet as he held it up to his face.

“Listen, do you have any idea how fucking busy I am today? Whose crackpot idea was this anyway? No, don't answer that, I don't fucking care. Just pick the three at the front and, uh, that one, no, the hot one with the gray skin.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The fish demon glanced over his shoulder at you, making a beckoning gesture as the man on the other end cut the call.

You pointed to your chest with a silent me? and the fish demon nodded, walking on without a backwards look as you trailed along after him.

“Actually, I was holding a spot in the line for someone else, they were going to pay me money, if you could let me borrow a phone, I could -” you scurried to keep up. “-you know I don't think it's really fair that someone’s paid me to keep their place and now I'm going in with you, isn't that against the rules?”

“Look, lady.” The fish demon held out a hand as he waved the other candidates over, to grumbling from the other people in the line. “I'm not paid enough to deal with your drama shit, save it for the casting director.”

“Are you really going to leave all those people out there?” you asked quietly as the assistant let you through the security gate at the front of the building. “Some of them have been waiting for days. It doesn’t seem fair.”

The man shrugged. “What can I say? Welcome to Hell.”

Out of a lingering sense of guilt, you let the three women who had been in the front of the line go into the audition first, so that when you were called up, no-one was waiting. The casting director turned out to be the tall demon in the shirtsleeves and sweater vest that the dour fish had been talking to on his tablet. He had a large, rectangular head, and was handsome, in a striking sort of way.

He was sat on a bench against the wall of the audition room, elbows on his knees, and he looked up as you came in, watching you walk, an eyebrow raised.

“H-hey.” You gave a little wave. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, I was saving a space in the line for someone else, but the assistant told me to come in here, and, you see, I was hoping that maybe I could phone the person, and, um, maybe they could do the audition?”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” The television headed demon gave you a sidelong grin.

“I'm really sorry, but I don't.” You bit your lip, mentally preparing for a lie. “You see, I'm kind of new here.”

“Oh yeah? How long since you, y'know?” He made a vague hand gesture, getting to his feet.

Oh, darn. You had no idea what a good number would be here. You furrowed your brow. So if the universe was about ten thousand years old, and the average human lived to one hundred and twenty years old… a reasonable amount of time for a newcomer to have been in Hell was…

“Oh, not long. Only about three hundred years.” You plastered a big smile over your face, hoping Mr Television bought your deception.

“Oh, only three hundred you say? Wow, you are new, huh.” He smiled back at you, and you did a quick internal fist pump. Success! You were a natural liar! At this rate, you'd be able to find Vagina and be out of Hell in no time flat.

“My name's Vox, by the way. Like the company.” He snapped his fingers, and the tagline VOXTEK: TRUST US scrolled across the big screen on the wall of the audition room. He tilted his head. “What's yours?”

“My name?” You blinked. It had been a very long time since you'd had to introduce yourself to anyone not already aware of your name, and everybody in Hell just seemed to enjoy making up rude epithets for you, so you hadn't bothered with introductions. “My name's, uh, Areola. Like the -” you paused, unbuttoning your shirt.

Vox stared at you, frozen for a second before he raised a hand to cover yours, halting your struggling fingers. “You don't need to whip them out, dollface. I know what a boob is.”

“Y-you do?” you stammered, part of you thankful and a smaller, more sinful part disappointed, the touch of his fingertips on your hand like fire against your nerves. He was probably down here for one of the carnal sins, the sins of the flesh Chastity was always warning the younger angels about. “Of-of course you do, silly me.”

“Can I call you Ari?”

You’d always hoped the other angels would give you a nickname like that. Like Vagina was called Vaggie by her squadmates. But everyone in Heaven who called you by any name at all called you Areola, even Vagina did. To have Vox just give you a nickname like this, apropos of nothing, seemed too good to be true.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that. A lot, actually.” You swallowed. “You’re the first person who’s been nice to me here,” you admitted.

Vox shrugged. “I’m a nice guy, most of the time. I can afford to be. You want the job?”

“What?” You blinked. “B-but I didn’t audition. I w-wasn’t even in the line.”

“It’s not a hard job, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Vox, holding out his hand. “You take a few photos, record a few infomercials, and bam, you’re done! You won’t even have to run your own social media profiles. And the money-”

“I’m really sorry, Vox, I-I can’t.” You took a step backwards, hands raised. “I-I should go. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

You ran.

You ran without thinking, heart in your throat, past the security doors, away. Taking something that wasn’t yours was stealing, even if someone offered it to you. You should never have gone inside. Hell was terrible and confusing, and you wished that Vagina was here. She would know what to do. She would have said something tough, and made Vox do the right thing. She wouldn’t have run away. You stopped, panting for breath, and realized you had no idea where you were. You were down an alley, a crowd of curious sinners behind you.

“Hey, it’s that bitch who cut the line.”

“Thinks she’s better than us.”

Oh, this was bad. You took a step back, reaching for your angelic sword with a trembling hand.

Velvette’s face looked down at Vox from the big screen on the wall where the tagline had scrolled, thirty feet wide. “That’s seriously who you’re gonna hire as the new Angelic Security mascot? You have to be fucking shitting me.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Velvette, she is a real, literal fucking angel. I challenge you to think of a more appropriate pick.”

“It’s your subsidiary, so whatever.” Velvette pursed her lips. “I just hope you know that I’m not costuming her dumpy arse.”

“Your concerns are duly noted,” said Vox, redirecting his attention from the call to his nearby drones. “Now pipe down. I need to focus.”

Vox gave a small sigh as he transferred a small portion of his conscious mind to the drone that hung in the air over the dispersing line of would-be auditions, looking for your face. He flitted from security camera to security camera, searching for a telltale flash of white and grey.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to be so naive. Exorcists, from what data he had on them, were hardened killers, who regarded sinners as scum to be cleaned up.

Vox hadn’t spent a lot of time with exorcists, but he had spent a lot of time with killers, and his guts told him you weren’t one. Which was weird, but he could work with that. He just needed to make sure that no-one else got to you before he did.

“Alleyway behind the old munitions factory,” said Velvette from above him, sounding bored. “There’s three pissed off old slags about to shiv your new pet; someone’s streaming it.”

Fuck. Vox grimaced, switching his attention to the feed. Sure enough, there you were, fear on your face as three taller sinners made you back up against a wall, your hands out, pleading. “I’m gonna cut the signal. Make sure nothing goes viral.”

Travel by lightning was fast, but it wasn’t instantaneous. Vox manifested in a flash of ozone to see two dead sinners, you with your sword through the guts of a third. Your eyes were glowing gold, unseeing and dangerous, a splatter of blood across your face.

“Ari?” Vox ventured, keeping his voice as low and calming as he could.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh-” You yanked the sword from the guts of the woman who’d been about to stab you, and oh goodness that was a lot of blood that was gushing out of her. You looked in horror at Vox. “I didn’t-” you started, then stopped. The one person in this place who had been kind to you, and he had to see you like this? These sinners weren’t even soldiers; they just looked like regular people, and granted they had tried to murder you, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die.

“Hey, babydoll. Easy, now.” Vox approached you his hands out, calming.

You were a murderer now; the police would catch you and you’d have to go to Hell jail. You didn’t want to go to Hell jail; the food was probably terrible and you’d never be able to find Vagina. The back of your throat hurt at the hopelessness of it all. You stared at Vox, your vision wobbling as tears formed.

“You’ll be okay, shit, uh, let’s get that big knife out of your hand-” Vox’s blue talons were on your fingers, prying them from the hilt of your sword as he moved in, and you resisted for a second before his coaxing moved you and you let go, surrendering the sword into Vox’s grasp as his other arm wrapped around you. “You’re gonna be okay, I got you.”

Pressing your face into the fuzzy material of Vox’s sweatervest, you gave a big, ugly sob. You clung to him as you cried, vaguely aware of his arm around you, his claws petting your hair. Oh, you’d ruined everything now. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled against his chest. “Y-you should probably hand me over to the police now, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Excuse me?” Vox’s tone was incredulous.

You sniffed, blinking more tears from your eyes. “You know, the police? Since I committed three murders?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Vox breathed, looking down at you, his claws carding through your hair. “There aren’t any police in Hell. Well, there are lots of cops in Hell, sure, but no police force.”

“B-but I just, I just-” you motioned to the bodies in the alleyway behind you. “How will I be punished?”

“Oh, fuck me, you’re adorable.” Vox covered his face with a hand. “You’ve had a long day, babydoll. Let me take you home, and you can have a bath, and a change of clothes, and maybe then we can talk about your problems, yeah? I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

No-one had ever been this nice to you, even in Heaven. Part of you wondered whether Vox was in Hell by mistake, and you nodded, slowly, face against his chest again as his hand moved to the small of your back.

“You’re bringing a fucking exorcist to our fucking living quarters?” Valentino’s eyebrow raised above the frames of his pink glasses. “Are you fucking stupid? Or just thinking with your dick?”

“Look, I’ve just gotta win her trust, okay” Vox leaned back, analyzing Valentino’s surroundings through the videofeed. He was in his studio, which was a good thing. There was also a visible lovebite on the exposed skin above Val’s second set of arms. Which was good; it meant Valentino and his on-off squeeze were on talking terms.

“So you can fuck her?” Valentino took a drag on his cigarette, pink smoke briefly clouding the lens of the camera.

“Uh, so she’ll fucking work with us.” Vox sighed heavily. “You have a one track fucking mind sometimes Val, I swear.”

“But you are gonna fuck her, aren’t you?” There was a gleam in Val’s eye now.

“First of all,” said Vox, holding up a finger, careful with his volume so that his words didn’t travel to you ensconced in your bubble bath in the next room. “I don’t recall putting you in charge of where I put my dick. And secondly, fuck you.”

Valentino laughed, good-natured. “Alright, papito.” He grinned, gold tooth flashing. “I’ll take my Angel out somewhere else tonight, you have fun with yours.”

They compared calendars before Vox closed the call, grumbling to himself. All things considered, it could have gone much worse- if Valentino hadn’t been in a good mood, he might have decided to be jealous and that would have been a pain in the ass. Valentino’s instincts weren’t wrong, either; the big moth had been around Vox for too long to not have picked up on his preferences. The combination of dangerous power and lack of worldliness just did something for him. And then there was your body.

Vox chanced a peek through the security cameras as you climbed out of the bath, a sneak preview, he told himself, growing hard in his pants as he took in the soft lines of your thighs, the crest of downy feathers that covered your pudenda, snowy white to match your hair. Fuck, but you looked soft all over, as if his hands would sink right into you. Vox cut the feed with a groan; if he kept on watching there was a good chance you’d walk in on him jacking off over the video, and that wasn’t really the impression he wanted to make. No, he needed to be trustworthy, a good guy, someone you felt you could work for. Someone you’d trust your soul to.

And Vox might be a voyeur, but he could keep it in his pants if he needed to. Business before pleasure.

Vox was right; the bath did help. Warm water cradled your body, the panic that had wracked you flowing out of you. You added bath salts, and bubbles, and stayed in there much longer than you really needed to, feeling the dirt that had accumulated on you since your descent into Hell float away. Vox’s tower was the only place you’d visited in Hell so far that had been clean, all shining chrome and expensive polished black granite. Finally, you climbed out, even your conscience feeling cleaner than it had when you had started, and grabbed a towel so fluffy that felt like it had been imported from Heaven.

The outfit that Vox had left for you was modest and well-fitting, a soft wool cardigan with a camisole and blouse to go underneath and a pleated a-line skirt that reached your mid-calf, all in eggshell colors that complemented your grey skin. Even the underwear was perfectly sized, and you tried not to think too hard about it- you were pretty sure that one of VoxTek’s subsidiaries was a fashion company of some sort, and Vox had probably guessed.

“Hey, Ari.” Vox gave you a smile as you stepped out, and you found yourself smiling back at him. “You feeling better? I ordered us Dim Sum.”

“I, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You pushed your hair behind your ear. “For everything.”

Vox’s smile only grew. Your plan had been to thank him for his help and leave, but he’d gone to the trouble of organizing you food already and leaving would be rude and the little steamed buns he was offering you smelled very good, so you found yourself sitting with him, listening to him talk about the food as he piled different items onto your plate. All of it was delicious.

“-and you need to try this one, it’s got the spicy shrimp paste, I don’t know how you are with spice, so it might come on a bit strong for you, but it’s worth it, trust me.”

You nodded, your reflexive oh no, I couldn’t dying on your lips as you smelled the bun, the delicate scent of the shrimp coupled with a dark, sweet undercurrent. You bit in, the gummy texture of the outer dumpling giving way to something coarser and more savory; perfectly cooked crustacean flesh that leaked juices when broken, in the paste that Vox had described, which imbued a richness and a sweetness both at once. It had a spice that began as an ache on the back of your tongue, and built and built upon itself, until you were salivating almost painfully and yet somehow wanting more. You closed your eyes, your jaw stopping to prolong the moment.

“So.” Vox picked his moment to lean in, face perilously close to yours. “What do you want, Ari?”

You, was your embarrassing, gut instinct response, thankfully stymied by your mouth full of dumpling. You chewed and swallowed, which gave you time to think. Vox was trustworthy. He’d been nothing but kind to you. He wanted to help. “I had- have a friend,” you said, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a risk, telling Vox. If he figured out that you were an angel, you’d be in big trouble. “She’s in Hell, somewhere. I’m looking for her.”

“I’m pretty good at finding people,” said Vox, his expression sympathetic. “Maybe I could help?”

You shook your head, the taste of the dumpling still lingering on your tongue. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much, and I’ve got no way to repay you. I don’t even have money.”

“I’m sure there’s a way we could help each other,” said Vox, unperturbed. “Money isn’t everything, after all. Let’s think about it, see what we come up with, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed Vox, nodding slowly. “You’re really nice to me,” you added, with a small frown.

“And is that a bad thing?” Vox asked, his screen tilting. He picked up the second of the shrimp paste dumplings with his chopsticks.

“No,” you admitted, quietly.

“Then,” said Vox, holding the dumpling out to you, not to your plate this time, but to your face. “You should accept it, yeah?”

Your face flushed from grey to white as you came to the realization that Vox’s intention was to hand feed you, a warm sensation in your stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Cupping your hands under the dumpling to ensure none spilled, you opened your mouth. Again the outer shell of the dumpling was gummy against your lips, and you held it gently between your teeth so that Vox could withdraw his chopsticks. He looked happy as you chewed, and you told yourself this was nothing untoward, simply the demon being a good host.

“We should watch a movie,” he said, chin in his hand as he watched you chew. “I’ll let you pick.”

Hell, it turned out, or at least Vox, had a much wider selection of titles than were available in Heaven, and you hesitated to pick. In the end, Vox quizzed you on what you’d seen and what your favorites were, and picked something out. His earlier demand, of accept it, let me be nice to you, stuck in your head, overriding doubts that you might have expressed. You’d been warned, in Heaven, about the dangers of fraternization. How two people, watching a movie together alone, could fall into sin. But you’d never done anything like that, and Vox seemed nice.

When Vox patted the sofa next to him, you hesitated, and so Vox grabbed the bucket of popcorn he’d made and placed it by his thigh, a barrier between you.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You looked at the popcorn. “It won’t stop us kissing,” you joked, a small smile.

“You can kiss me, if you like,” Vox returned your grin. “I won’t mind.”

He wasn’t joking, you realized, a surge of warmth through your core that caught you unguarded. “Isn’t that a sin?”

“Kissing?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “I’ve read like five, six versions of the bible and I don’t think any of them said shit about kissing.”

“Oh.” You swallowed, feeling your face turn from gray to white in a blush.

Vox didn’t do more than to open the possibility for you, but that possibility remained, playing at the periphery of your mind as you watched the movie with him, his arm looped easy round your shoulders, the bucket of popcorn the only chaperone stopping your hips from touching his. You could lean over, and just kiss him.

Waiting until he was engrossed in the film, his slim side profile showing to you, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the plastic of his screen’s casing. The material was smooth, the edges angular, and strangely warm.

“Heyy. What was that?” Vox tilted his head to you, an amused cast to his lips. When you didn’t answer his grin widened. “Did you just kiss me? In the middle of the movie?”

You tore your gaze from his, embarrassed. “Y-you said I could,” you protested, adding a belated, “sorry.”

“But kissing is usually a two-way thing,” said Vox, leaning in.

“I didn’t kiss your face,” you said, very factually.

“You didn’t,” agreed Vox, pushing a strand of hair back from your ear, the sharp edge of his talon tracing over sensitive skin. “So I won’t either.”

Vox leaned in, the bucket of popcorn chaperoning you threatening to topple as he drew his lips to your ear. The close proximity of his screen was enough to make your skin tingle, and you drew in a breath and held it, an uncomfortable pulse building between your legs as he took his time, breath hot over your neck and the shell of your ear. You didn’t dare tell him to hurry up, didn’t dare tell him to stop, not with how his mere proximity had you quivering, until at last you felt his lips, ghosting over your earlobe, teasing the soft flesh between them. Was it still a kiss, if his lips were now wrapped around a part of you, and sucking. Oh, Heavens. You bit back a noise, warmth pooling in your core as Vox’s tongue teased the circumference of your ear.

“Vox!” you squeaked, and he let you go, grinning.

“Try kissing my face next time. Or not, your choice.”

You went back to the movie, trying to tamp down the sinful thoughts that were spinning through your head. He didn’t deserve to be thought of lustfully like this. He was a really good guy- he was just trying to watch a movie with you and you were thinking lewd thoughts about him. You were an angel, for crying out loud: you were meant to be better than this!

His lips had felt so good, his tongue even better, a crackling spark that licked against your nerves. What would kissing his lips feel like? What would that tongue feel like, inside your mouth? Vox’s arm was back over your shoulders, his blue claws bright against the white of your blouse. You could touch his hand. Holding hands wasn’t sinful. People in Heaven held hands all the time. Hesitantly, you reached for his hand, your fingertips stroking from his wrist and over the back of his hand to his knuckles.

“You gonna kiss my hand next, babydoll?” asked Vox, his voice low and teasing.

“N-no,” you squeaked again, voice rising in pitch as your throat constricted.

Vox exhaled, glancing over at you, his thumb catching your exploring hand and stroking along your index finger. “Something the matter?”

Oh, all you could think about were the possibilities. Oh his lips on yours, his hand skating down over your shirt to encompass your breast. “I’m having sinful thoughts about you,” you confessed.

“Ohh?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Lustful thoughts?”

Slowly, you nodded, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry. I know you’re just being a good host, and you don’t deserve me objectifying you…” you trailed off.

Vox just smiled. “I think I deserve to know exactly what lustful thoughts you were having, don’t you?”

“I was thinking about your fingers in my mouth,” you breathed out, though that was the least of your inner debauchery.

“Like this?” Vox asked, trailing blue talons up the side of your neck, over your jaw, and over your lips. You opened your mouth reflexively, and Vox slipped two fingers inside. Oh, fudge. Your eyes fluttered closed, a noise in your throat as Vox’s fingers explored, gentle as anything against the surface of your tongue, your cheek. “Were you thinking about them anywhere else?”

Face hot, you nodded, Vox’s fingers still inside your mouth, pulling at your lower lip slightly as he rocked his wrist back and forth.

“You gonna show me?” Vox asked, his voice still teasing, and with a shaking hand, you gestured to your own breasts, cupping them through the fabric of your blouse. The heat in your core was almost unbearable now, an embarrassing wetness pooling in the gusset of your panties.

“Get in my lap, babydoll,” said Vox, his voice soft as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a string of spittle trailing from your lower lip as he did. “I wanna do all the things you were fantasizing about me doing.”

Oh, you wanted this, you wanted this. So badly that it was a pulsing ache, an insistent drumbeat between your thighs. “Th-this is definitely sinful,” you said, hesitating.

Vox made no move to force you, sitting back a little on the couch. “Does it matter?” he asked, his tone going from sultry to playful again. “We’re both damned, after all.”

“R-right.” You swallowed, cursing yourself for your earlier lie. He waited, quiet, the movie playing forgotten on the big screen in front of you, until you moved the popcorn bucket to the floor and climbed onto his lap, your skirt bunching up around your knees as you straddled his legs.

“Well, heyy there beautiful,” growled Vox, looking at you, a finger pushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and you felt your face break into a smile. He crossed his legs, one over the other, so that his top thigh was flush with the gusset of your panties, smirking at you when his leg made contact. “Sitting comfortably?”

“Your leg… feels nice…” you managed, lamely, struggling for words. The pressure felt exquisite, the folds of your labia squashing together in a way that made you profoundly aware of the pulsing between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” Vox didn’t tease, and you were grateful. “You wanna stay like that? You maybe wanna rock back and forth a bit?” As if to demonstrate, he pushed his thigh up between your legs, against your gusset, and moved it side to side. You found yourself giving a soft whimper at the sensation. “It’s okay, baby,” said Vox, his voice soft and coaxing. “You can rub against me.”

You shouldn’t, you knew. You knew you should climb out of Vox’s lap, leave the feeling of his thigh between your legs behind, ignore the slick pooling in your panties. You should apologize for taking advantage of his generosity as a host, for even thinking about using his body in such a sordid way. You didn’t, though. Instead you canted your hips back, grinding your sex against the tensed muscle of his leg, finding warmth and friction and pleasure.

A shameful little whimper escaped your lips, and you felt Vox’s eyes on you, intent. “You don’t mind?”

Vox looked pleased with himself. “I invited you here, didn’t I?” He reached to your chest, tracing the lines you had traced when you had cupped your own breasts, the sensation of his claws through the fabric of your shirt leaving a tingling in its wake. You rocked your hips again, finding a slow rhythm, the sensations seeming to layer one atop the other, Vox’s talons moving up again, circling first one of your nipples and then the other, bringing each one to a sensitive point. “Do you wanna get them out for me?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

He withdrew his hands and your skin seemed to ache at the lack of him. “Will you touch them, if I do?” you asked, your voice small.

“If you ask me to,” said Vox, hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, over your thighs. “Otherwise if you want, I can enjoy the show. You want me to touch them, Ari?”

He used your name, not an epithet, his eyes on yours, and you felt the flush that bloomed on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest joining the pulse between your thighs as you continued to pleasure yourself on Vox’s thigh, each slow movement of your hips grinding the juices that soaked your panties into Vox’s slacks. Fingers trembling, you unbuttoned your blouse to your navel, then unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall from your shoulders, leaving your breasts exposed, nipples peeking over the lacy edge of your camisole. “Please,” you answered, feeling very exposed considering how little you were showing.

Vox pulled down the edge of your camisole with one talon, admiring his handiwork with a grin before his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs tracing soft circles around your namesake, your areolae. You made a noise in your throat, grinding hard against Vox’s thigh, and Vox gave an answering growl.

“Is that a good noise, babydoll?” Vox asked, gravel in his voice now. “You like having me squeeze your tits as you rub your pussy on my leg, huh?”

Shamefaced, you nodded, and Vox leaned in, a shift in his grip on your breasts pulling a moan from you. You froze, uncertain, as Vox lowered his wide rectangular head to your chest. As he had with your ear, he paused before his lips touched the skin, already tender and puckered from his fingers.

You whimpered, heat pooling in your core as you ground yourself wantonly against his leg, wet fabric against wet fabric, and Vox groaned, his breath hot over your breast. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking your nipple between his lips and sucking.

No amount of Heavenly chastity infomercials could have prepared you for how your next moments felt; Vox’s mouth first on one breast, then the other, the gentle tug of his teeth, the electrical lash of his tongue, all of that competing with the feel of him between your legs as you rode his thigh, your rhythm ascending from steady grind to desperate canter as sensation built and built. You found yourself pleading, losing rhythm as you jerked against Vox’s thigh, answering moans from Vox vibrating through your flesh as he suckled at you, your world narrowing to that scant handful of sensations. You cried out, feeling something inside you seize, and your eyes fluttered closed, your hips stilling.

“Vox,” you squeaked, uncertain.

“Heyy. Hey hey hey.” Vox lifted his face from your breasts, pulling your torso flush with his, his arms around you, his legs uncrossing. “I’ve got you.”

As before, his embrace was a comfort, and you found yourself pressing your body against his, your eyes squeezing shut. “There’s something inside me, it just twitched, it’s still-”

You felt Vox’s body tense against yours, and he tilted his screen to look at you, an error message flashing up that he hastily dismissed. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You, uh, you mean to tell me that you don’t know what an orgasm feels like?”

Your eyes snapped open, your core still throbbing. “That was an orgasm?”

“Well, uh, your heart rate spiked, and your pupils are dilated and your blood pressure is dropping now,” said Vox. “So yeah, seems likely.”

“I’ve never-” You sank against Vox, feeling weak.

“You’re making me feel like a real piece of shit, you know that?” Vox pressed his palm against your back, rubbing circles. “Your first orgasm and I didn’t even fuckin' kiss you first.”

“You could kiss me now,” you said, peering up at him, shy.

Vox gave a bark of laughter, a grin creeping back onto his face. “That a request, babydoll?”

His tongue in your mouth felt as good as you’d feared it might.

Click here to read the sequel

#vox x you #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox smut #no antlers tho #hazbin x reader

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aviscarrentals · 5 months

Text

i want to play a (racing) game

a series of f1 fics based off of some of my favorite horror movies

charles leclerc- the shining

you, your boyfriend, and a bunch of friends decide to spend your winter break together in a giant hotel. what could go wrong?

max verstappen- it

after years away from your hometown, derry, you suddenly receive an urgent call from your long-forgotten childhood friend, alex, that leads to you returning to the very place you swore you would never face again

carlos sainz- a quiet place

after losing everything you know when the world fell into apocalypse due to the invasion of alien-like monsters with some very sharp ears, you find a new family in the other survivors

lando norris- scary movie (saw parody)

you wake up next to a stranger in a dimly lit room chained to a chair, which is bolted to the floor. luckily, the situation turns out to be more humorous than terrifying (may or may not be 100% based off of the jerma episode of generation loss LOL)

fernando alonso- freaky

you wake up in the body of a middle aged man. but not just any man. a man who also happens to be a wanted serial killer.

george russell- the purge

you and your best friend alex's annoying best friend, george, have to work together to survive the purge night (lily's also there)

pierre gasly- unfriended

you and your friends video call every friday night to hang out together. unfortunately, an angry spirit has decided it wants to spend some time with you guys as well...

mick schumacher- fnaf

after countless failed attempts, you've finally found yourself a new job! the bad news is, it's a night shift and you're scared of the dark. so, naturally, you drag your boyfriend along with you.

alex albon- child's play

when you and your boyfriend unexpectedly have to take in your young niece, you two struggle to make a connection with the little girl. maybe splurging on the cool new doll she's been wanting will fix that.

yuki tsunoda- final destination

what do you do when some random guy that you've never spoken to before tells you he's seen visions of you dying? what do you do when it turns out he was right and death is pretty pissed off?

oscar piastri- the menu

you and your husband have worked non-stop to build a successful, stable life for yourselves. you two really deserve a break. how about a fancy dinner on a remote island prepared by one of the most revered chefs in the entire culinary world?

ollie bearman- scary stories to tell in the dark

it's the final halloween before you have to move away from your hometown and your best friends since birth. hopefully you can make it a night to remember.

lance stroll- the cabin in the woods

you and your boyfriend decide to invite some friends to spend the weekend in a little log cabin in the forest as a way to momentarily retreat from your stressful lives. well you definitely won't be getting any rest this weekend, that's for sure.

logan sargeant- scream (aka yelp)

an eerie masked killer has made its way into your town and is slowly picking kids off one by one. who could it be? is there anyone you can trust? prologue chapter 1

liam lawson- happy death day

happy birthday! i hope you're excited because this will be the longest day(s?) of your life

sebastian vettel- the texas chainsaw massacre

it's summer, which of course means it's time for a roadtrip! unfortunately, you and your friends decided to visit texas, usa, where everything's bound to go wrong (because it's texas, usa)

kimi raikkonen- would you rather

desperate times call for desperate measures, although at this point desperate would be an understatement. so when the perfect opportunity falls right into your lap, who are you to turn it down?

jenson button- halloween

it's halloween! the spookiest day of the year. even though you don't bother participating in silly little holiday celebrations, there are some traditions you can't ignore…

mark webber- 28 days later

the world has gone to shit. even so, you're doing everything you can to survive, despite how hard it is on your own. maybe it would be better if you formed a team?

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itsabouttimex2 · 5 months

Note

Plot twist: the moment d!reader is set free from both of the circles at the end of the journey, they dissapear into the night, never to be seen again...or not.

I'm sorry i just, as much as i love yanderes, i want to see them suffer. At least a bit.

Ps. You're an amazing writer and i really enjoy your fics. Also, you really helped in getting my friend into yandere, so thank you for that🙂

Taken Aboard:

Running Away

(I’m super glad that you enjoy my fics! And I’m glad your friends enjoys them, too! Yandere is a really fun trope to play with!)

So, in the case that you do pull a runner at the end of this long and arduous journey, Y/N… your biggest enemy is now yourself.

Because, as hard as you might have tried to fight it, you have been civilized. You have grown accustomed to society. You have started to care. This journey has changed and bettered you, as it has all your companions.

You are no longer a mere demon tending to monsters great and mighty, no more a child planting seeds and spreading spores.

You can’t ever go back to being the wild little creature you once were.

If you’ve ever read Gilgamesh, I’d say Enkidu is a good comparison for your development. After he’s been ‘civilized’ by Shamhat, Enkidu can no longer return to the home he knows and loves, the animals who once accepted him now fleeing on sight.

Now, if you leave before the journey’s end…

You run, devastated and distraught that so much of yourself is gone and lost, never to be reclaimed. The forest may not be the home you know, but some part of it is still familiar.

You purge the hunters and loggers who have taken up residence within the Emerald Grove, violently spilling their nourishing blood across the hungry soil, pitch their flesh into the mouths of ravenous beasts.

It doesn’t make you feel better- you know that at least some of these men and women were trying to feed themselves, their children.

But at least the forest is newly quiet, contented by a fresh meal, leaving you in peace to mourn.

As for hoping to ‘never being seen again’…

Sun Wukong’s Golden Vision has a little something to say about that.

Within hours he’s stalking back to the Emerald Grove in a huff, hauling his way up the tallest tree he can find and unhappily making his way over to you.

The Great Sage snatches you off the bark and tosses you over his shoulder, clambering down the tree as you kick and scream. You demand to be released and removed from the group, biting and pounding your fists agains his invulnerable back.

“Being naughty today, bud? Here I was, thinking you had finally gotten past this ‘running back home’ phase.”

“I am not a baby,” you scream, digging your teeth into the base of his spine with all your demonic might. “PUT ME DOWN!”

You manage to draw just a few drops of blood, not that it phases the simian. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

“You’re making things harder for all of us, you know that? And you keep setting us back with all the running away nonsense. But I had Master call a certain someone up to maybe settle this for us all, bud.”

Against your angry protests and endless assault does the Great Sage drag you back to camp, switching to hold you in his arms instead of over his back.

Immediately do your screams of anger turn to pained wails, the sound of a holy sutra hitting your ears. The blessed bands around your wrists tighten, scraping the skin they compress to rawness.

And before you stands not only the holy monk who tricked you into wearing these golden hoops, but the goddess who gave them to him.

“Sun Wukong, please place the child down,” she lightly instructs, her tone even and polite. “Might I speak to them for a moment?”

The Handsome Monkey King obeys, nudging your towards the goddess after he releases his grip on you.

Guanyin comes to you slowly, kneeling to take your face into her soft and gentle hands.

And you bite her.

“You- you call yourself a goddess,” you scream, fangs wet with her divine ichor. “Of mercy and compassion! But all you do is hand out tools of torture and punishment! I wanted to stay in my forest! I wanted to stay with my friends!” A hard shove, nearly knocking her over. “And you helped Sanzang take me away! You gave him these awful bands and he pretended they were gifts to get me to put them on! But they weren’t! And you let him! And now he uses them to hurt me! I hate you! I hate him! I hate all of you!”

Finally you collapse, sobbing openly into your hands.

Tang Sanzang watches in horror as heavenly blood feeds the ground, causing new and gorgeous growth to break from the soil, flowers blooming in massive clusters.

Wukong seethes that you could be so disrespectful to the one and only god he actually cares for, the only one he finds to be tolerable and kind.

Everyone else just recoils in both fear and hurt, your last words ringing painfully in the ears.

But Guanyin approaches once more, kneeling to level herself with you. There is no retribution or anger in her touch, placing a light kiss onto your forehead.

“You’re right, aren’t you? This journey has not been easy, nor has it been kind- and for you especially, perhaps it has been cruel. And I too, have been unkind to dabble in your affairs. Will you allow me to ease the burdens of your travel?”

From a silk pouch does she procure a mirror, pushing it into your shaking hands.

“My child, I give to you this heavenly mirror, which has been forged from blessed steel and holy sand melted to glass by dragonfire. To look upon it will show you your beloved forest, and all those you have left behind.”

———————————————————————-

Now, this is super important- Y/N’s involvement in the journey is incredibly unfair. The others come because they seek personal growth or redemption, but Y/N?

They had to come. They were tricked into thinking those golden tightening bands were gifts and eagerly asked Sanzang to help put them on, jumping up and down in excitement at receiving something so pretty. The only reason they agreed to wear these ‘generously’ gifted bands was because they thought it was an honest gift.

So there’s already a sense of betrayal about the whole thing, that their first gift from anyone was actually just a trap to pull them along on a lengthy and dangerous journey.

Then, where the others were either entirely willing (Sanzang) or had to redeem themselves for crimes or mistakes (Wukong), Y/N was forced to come along with their worst crimes being: fighting off invaders and killing poachers. And all for that, they are ripped from home and forced to leave behind everything they’ve ever known and loved.

And Guanyin does three things here:

1. Acknowledges your anger/sorrow.

2. Validates your feelings without hesitation.

3. Actively works to soothe them.

With the mirror in hand, you can look upon the Emerald Grove and see your old animal friends, know that they’re safe even without you, and put your fears to rest.

It’s not perfect.

But it’s a good start to get you to actually care about these pilgrims, given that you don’t spend every night in flurry of nightmares, thinking fitfully of your beloved forest.

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Tang Sanzang #Yandere Sun Wukong #Guanyin #Taken Aboard #Journeyfam

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yanderecrazysie · 8 months

Note

yandere bakugo! purge au? it’s time for the purge and its the perfect time to get his darling

I’ve been watching the Purge show with my little sister and we occasionally just text each other “The Giving is near, the Invisible awaits”. I love the purge movies so much, except the Forever Purge, I just didn’t like that one.

Title: 12 Hours

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, Bakugou’s scary lol

Summary: 12 hours when every crime is legal but with a twist- if you kidnap someone, they’re yours forever.

“You’re sure everything is locked down?” You asked, biting your lip nervously.

Your boyfriend smiled at you, “State of the art system. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a smile, but you followed it up with a sigh. You had a lot to worry about. You had gotten a note in the mail, two days before the purge, that read:

Dear (Y/n),

This is a notice that a Level 5 person(s) has been given permission to hold you indefinitely if you are captured during purge hours. We recommend staying inside and taking precautions to protect yourself.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers,

NFFA Personnel.

Someone had requested permission to kidnap you forever, as long as they captured you on purge night. Who it was, you couldn’t even imagine.

Your house’s defense system was practically a joke. You didn’t have the money to get fancy equipment like everyone else had. That’s why your boyfriend, John, had offered to let you stay with him during purge night.

The thought had crossed your mind that John could be the crazy kidnapper, but you knew that he could have you any time he wanted to, so there wasn’t any point in kidnapping you.

John had an amazing security system. Not as good as, say, the NFFA members had, but still very good. You felt mostly safe to stay with him, but there was still an ounce of fear that wouldn’t go away.

You had looked up what “Level 5” meant and had discovered there were five levels of dangerous people classified for the purge. Level 1 was the lowest and, well, Level 5 was the most dangerous.

You had an extremely dangerous person after you. Who knew what they would do to you after kidnapping you? Maybe they would torture you all year long.

Your boyfriend turned on the TV and, a few moments later, the announcement played.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the U.S. Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. All other weapons are restricted.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity and shall not be harmed. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m. when the purge concludes.

“Blessed be our new founding fathers and America... A nation reborn. May God be with you all.”

Even through the metal shutters, you could hear the sirens start. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“We’re in for a quiet evening, don’t worry,” John said, putting a comforting arm around your shoulder, “Should we get the wine out?”

“Yes, please,” you said shakily.

Your boyfriend walked over to the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of wine and a couple cups. He poured a generous amount of liquid into both cups and handed you one. You drank all of it in one go.

John laughed and refilled your cup, “It’s only 12 hours. That’s it.”

“12 hours is a long time,” you muttered, “A lot can happen in half a day.”

Ten hours passed uneventfully, the two of you watching the only channel that wasn’t showing highlights of the purge from cameras set up around the country or talking about the history of purging.

On the eleventh hour, someone knocked on the door. You froze in your seat, breath hitching in your throat from horror. Your boyfriend stood up, “It’s okay, no one can get in. I’ll check the front door camera.”

He checked the camera and smiled, “See, they moved o-”

The power went out.

A beeping sound filled the house and then the scraping of metal as the shutters began to rise. The security system had been disabled and was reversing itself.

Even in the dim light, you could see that your boyfriend had gone pale, messing with the system frantically to try to reset it.

Finally, he turned to you and said, “Get in the closet. I’ve got a gun and I’ll deal with anyone that comes inside.”

You were crying at that point, but you managed to nod. You ran to the closet and hurriedly closed it behind you. You pulled some clothes down from the rack and tried to use them to cover yourself. There was no lock, so you were absolutely toast if anyone looked inside.

You could hear the door open loudly, as though someone had kicked it open. Your ears strained, listening for any hint that your boyfriend would be okay.

A gunshot rang through the house and you hoped it was from your boyfriend’s gun and not the intruder’s. A loud, husky laugh followed the sound, “Nice try, extra.”

You covered your mouth as the sound of an automatic gun’s famous ratatata followed. You knew John only had a pistol. No doubt your boyfriend had just died.

“Y/n”, I know you’re in here,” the voice said loudly, almost playfully, “Might as well come out now, so I don’t waste time trying to find you.”

You had less than an hour left. If you could just stall him until the 12 hours were up, maybe you’d make it out alive.

Your breath hitched again as he came into the bedroom and you closed your eyes.

“Not under the bed. What about the closet?” You could hear the smirk in the intruder’s voice.

The closet door flew open and the clothes were pulled off of you. You looked up helplessly at the wild-haired blonde with blood red eyes as he crouched in front of you. He took your wrist in a crushing grip, grinning at you with victory, and hauled you up off the floor.

“C’mon, we only have one hour to get you home. Had to deal with a lot of shit tonight. But I’m sure your boy toy’s car will help us out, won’t it, baby?”

You hadn’t made it the whole 12 hours.

Your life was in his hands.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere my hero academia #my hero academia #yandere bakugou #bakugou katsuki

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meownotgood · 3 months

Text

let us live, if we must die. / chapter one: fate entwined

You are a witch, and since the purging of all magic, you've been forced to live a life of solitude and secrecy. Your destiny was always beyond your control — until, by a pure twist of fate, you unknowingly fell for the kingdom's only prince.

════════════════════

pairing: prince!aki x witch!reader

word count: 5.3k

tags: fantasy au, royalty au, reader is fem, lots and lots of initial worldbuilding, essentially reader is a mage in a world where magic is forbidden, reader has a very well-established backstory, aki is there but you'll be seeing more of him later. warning: some darker themes in this chapter + blood mention

notes: here we go!! mostly establishing reader and the world here... you'll be seeing aki's cute face more after this, I promise. I hope you like it, and please look forward to the chapters to come... 💞

masterlist read on ao3 join the taglist here!

════════════════════

is love like the sea

will it wash me to the shore

or drown me with it?

—

You knew you should have cast a spell for better weather.

As crows shake the swaying trees when they flutter into the air, cawing and dotting the sky with speckles of black, you're drawn to tilt your head upward. Dark knots of gray clouds obscure the sun, blocking its light. Thunder rolls ominously overhead. You breathe a quiet tsk to yourself. The cool air smells of that familiar, earthen promise of rain. Turning back to your work, you hurry to collect the rest of the patch of colorful mushrooms, grabbing fistfuls and stuffing them into your pack.

It was a beautiful day mere hours ago. Sunshine warmed your skin in plentiful rays, before the clouds had taken over. If you were at all aware of a coming storm, you wouldn't have spent so much time dilly-dallying. Your preparations would have been completed way faster. You would have made sure to leave the cottage much, much sooner — No, if you'd known about the rain, it wouldn't have stormed to begin with.

You can't cancel out a downpour entirely. Such a feat is impossible, even for the most experienced of mages. The world can't be broken, no matter the strength of a mage's will — but it can bend. You could have pushed the storm back to the next day, at the very least. It would have given you the time you needed to forage, and you simply would've opted to stay inside tomorrow.

Damn it all. It's no use worrying about what has already been done. You need to hurry. Your distraction spell will wear off in the rain.

You snap the buckle on your pack shut, rising to your feet while clumsily slinging both straps over your shoulders. You shiver; the first droplets of water hit each blade of grass, they tap against your bare arms and the top of your head, but you're already running. You're taking off through the dense forest, following the well-known path you took on your way in.

Leaves flatten under your feet. Running against the strengthening wind, you feel goosebumps kiss your arms and your legs. You run and pant and run some more, until you can finally see the faint, warm light of your cottage, shining through the forest like a beacon of assurance. Trees taper off into a large clearing, with your cottage at the very center.

Your spell dispels on its own. A cool wave rushes over your body, the magic fading, before disappearing. Thankfully, you've made it home, just in time.

The wooden door of your cottage creaks when you slam it shut behind you. Your kitchen is warm. Blessedly warm. You take a moment to catch your breath: your chest heaving, palms on your knees, the fireplace crackling. You toss your heavy pack onto the kitchen counter with a huff, and you plop down in a wooden dining room chair. Thunder splinters, the sound loud and forceful. Rain blankets the cottage's roof, pattering to a persistent, calming rhythm.

You need to stop having close calls like this.

What would have happened to you, if you were out in the woods for even a moment longer? It's not that you doubt your skills. Your magic is versatile. A damn good defense and offense, despite your chosen spells functioning passively, for the most part. Without anyone to assist you, you're still capable enough to hold your own against a handful of demons, should they choose to attack you. But a whole horde of them?

The kind that live in these woods aren't like the ones you learned to deal with when you were younger. These demons are resilient. They're smarter. They stay hidden, until the chance arises to enter a fight they're sure to win. You've seen the prey they hunt. Despite their small footprints — six footprints for each, meaning six legs with clawed feet — they've been taking out magical beasts nearly twice their size.

Great Elk, mostly. Nearly nothing is left of their flesh by the time you find them, making for quite the grim scene. No matter how many times you see it, your stomach still churns. The creatures boast a gigantic set of horns, and you'll harvest parts of them for yourself, to keep your mind off things. You're appreciative of what those elk can provide for you, in death. That'll be your fate, if you ever screw up.

In a way, it's a double-edged sword. The forest is what protects you, those demons are what keep anyone from venturing close enough to discover you here. At the same time though, they prove a danger to you every single day.

You wish this wasn't how you had to live. Of course you want to be safer, happier; who wouldn't?

Gazing up at the long shadows on your ceiling, your mind brews with the same darkness as the rumbling storm clouds. The patter of rain only seems to worsen the longer you stay sitting there. Your stomach grumbles. Darkness looms in the expanse beyond your cottage, as the sun begins to set, allowing itself to be swallowed by the thick clouds and the horizon. Finally, you sigh. You stop your sulking to sit up, and you head for the kitchen to sift through what you collected.

You were hoping to practice potion-making, so most of the herbs you collected are for healing, not necessarily for eating. A few edible mushrooms, and the potatoes you still have leftover from yesterday will have to do.

Your knife chops the mushrooms swiftly and effectively, into small, square chunks that you scoop up in your palms to dump into a pot.

When you were much younger, you lived in the city. You haven't been there in a long, long time. Everything you learned, you had to teach yourself: how to cook, how to fight. How to hone your spells. Books taught you most of what you know now. They were your mother's, once. After she passed, with no-one left to hide you, you fled. You've kept yourself stashed away here, ever since then. The threat of discovery didn't leave you with much of a choice.

You built the cottage yourself. Magic made things relatively simple. It took some trial and error, sure, plus a few nights spent out in the dark when your preparations weren't complete yet. When it rained then, you were woken up by water dripping onto you, getting in from the gaps in the shoddy roof. It's been a long time since you first came here, since you found the farthest clearing in the depths of the forest, and decided to let it encompass the rest of your life. You've managed to make a rather nice home for yourself, you think.

By all accounts, you should have perished a long time ago. The kingdom probably assumes you did. Without magic to help shield you, to feed you, to protect you, you doubt you would've lasted long out here. Perhaps that's why most people fear it.

Where would you even go, if this wasn't how you had to live? Your hand freezes up, knife stopping midair before it can come down on a half-sliced pile of parsley. Suddenly, you realize you've hardly thought about it. Gods, if you could go anywhere, as free as the songbirds you've always been envious of, you have no clue where you'd want to go first.

You could follow the sea breeze to the ocean, allowing the wind to rustle in your feathers. You've never seen the ocean before. Or maybe you'd want to soar over the kingdom, finally, and honestly free. There would be no-one to hunt you, not a soul that could catch you. It's peaceful there. For those unlike you, at least.

To the people who live in the kingdom, the nobles and the knights and the common folk alike, you aren't human. You're less than that — You're a witch, a seer, a miscreant. You are the very reason for this world's ruin: the source of all demons, and to some, the sovereign who can lead them. Ridiculous rumors, every last one. Those creatures listen to you no more than they listen to the cries of the Great Elk they're feasting on.

Still, you don't place blame on the fearful.

More than anything, you wish things could be different. You would do whatever those people wished of you to prove you aren't what they say you are, but none of them would ever give you the chance. Your magic could help people. You want to help people, not harm them. And yet, if you were anyone else — if you were normal, if you weren't you — honestly, you'd be scared too.

Demons are horrifying. They're soulless creatures, who can take a life away in an instant, only to break whoever they wind up leaving behind. And magic, magic in the wrong hands is just as frightening.

It was innocent, at first. Elves were the first to compose spells, the demons simply came afterwards. Death plagued the land; the people's magic grew stronger, but the demons were already learning to adapt. Magic became selfish. No longer were spells used to protect, to flourish a field of crops, to create a light in an endless darkness. As the first war on demons came to a close, a new threat was quick to emerge: near unstoppable mages, wielding a darkness of their very own.

Humanity nearly destroyed itself. In the process, the magic which once brought them the closest they've ever been to the Gods, that filled them with the strength of the sun, and fell into their palms like stars — That magic is all but gone, and forcefully forgotten.

You never forgot, though.

You were a child, you hadn't seen more than six winters, and already, the patriarchs were calling for what remains of the kingdom's spellcasters to be turned in and killed. Your birth was done in secrecy, your presence hidden. You stowed away in your mother's home, while you practiced conjuring simple illusions and small sparks of flame.

Young or old, it hardly mattered to those who sought you. Your father ran. Your mother was burned. In more "lucky" cases, some people would be allowed to live — relatives of knights or officials, mostly. The regency had their tongues carved out, so that they might never speak an incantation again.

Your jaw clenches, your hand tightened around the handle of a wooden ladle. You breathe in deeply, and you force your mind to wander elsewhere. Lest you lose your appetite.

There's places you've heard of only in passing. Towns and cities where magic is not only accepted, but allowed to thrive. It certainly sounds nice. However, the logical part of you struggles to find the truth in such stories. No matter which way you look at it, everything is telling you those rumors are nothing more than traps. They'll do anything to find you, to cleanse the land of what they feel brought it to rot. They're luring you, their detestable songbird, just for the chance to finally cage you in and clip your wings, once and for all.

To remain undetected, one's magic must be sharp, and their mind ever sharper. Those were your mother's words, at least. She taught you to stay focused, to be smart, and you most certainly are.

You aren't unhappy, per se, when it comes to living like this. You're safe, and that's about as much as you could ask for. You've been content for a long while, living off the forest, practicing your magic by your lonesome. It's better than stifling what you were born with. Or trying to be someone you're not, allowing the imminent risk of capture to remain hovering over your head. No, you aren't really free. Perhaps you never will be. But this is the closest you think you'll ever get to it.

The cottage is home. A lonely form of home, sometimes. No-one visits you. You'll talk to yourself when moments grow too quiet, just to fill the gnawing empty space. You aren't the kind of mage who can speak with animals, and even if you could, there isn't much to converse with; the demons have slowly begun to drive out most docile species.

Gods, you miss the kingdom. You miss when you could see the castle from your bedroom window, stone towers reaching so high into the sky, you swore they were touching the clouds. Lanterns shone from every window once night fell, glowing brighter than any of the stars in the sky. A young and hopeful you would dream of becoming an honored guest, or a knight, or perhaps a princess. One day, you'd find yourself atop the heights in the castle, staring down at your old home instead.

Foolish as it is, you miss the peace that came with those childish dreams. You never got to see it, but you remember reading books and hearing stories of the times where magic was nourished, not suppressed. Now, there is nothing. You have no-one but yourself. You miss when you didn't feel so alone.

Though, for now, you should put the rest of those thoughts aside.

Dipping your spoon into the finished stew, you breathe gently to cool it down, before taking a sip. Delicious. It warms you, chasing away the growing chill from the setting sun and the raging storm. Once you're done eating, you'll clean. Then, you think you'll spend the rest of the night rereading an old grimoire, until the complicated spell descriptions paired with the lull of the rain put you right to sleep.

After fetching a bowl from the cupboard and filling it, you sit down at the dining room table. Your hands clasp in brief prayer — a force of habit, considering no plea is actually spoken, no blessing is internally asked for. You don't have anything to say to any God. Not anymore.

Thunder crackles in the distance, like it plans to split the sky open. Rain drums and echoes against the roof. You take a moment to let your stew cool off, you manage just one bite, and —

Something's tripped the mushroom circle.

With a single fast snap of your fingers, every light in your cottage goes out. The candles and lanterns flicker briefly, before they vanish. The roaring fireplace suddenly dissipates into nothingness, leaving ashen logs of wood behind. Instantly, you're enveloped in total darkness, save for the small, floating flame you produce at the end of your thumb, with a murmur under your breath of the spell ignis.

It's been awfully long since the last time you've had to do this. Your heart begins to pound in your chest, in your eardrums. Your mind races, trying to picture the possible outcomes.

Demons have been growing in number around these woods, but they wouldn't be here; they stick to the outskirts, where they've made their dens. With the rain washing away the scent left by prey, they'd go back into hiding, not wander out here.

When you established your home here, one of the first things you did was create the mushroom circle around the clearing. Using your own blood and that of the demons, you fashioned it to inform you of anything hostile that walks over, barring any docile creatures. Wildlife wouldn't have set it off, so it's surely a stray demon, it must be. It will return to its horde once it realizes there's no food here. Unless…

Flame flickering over your trembling hand, you fruitlessly try to stay deathly still. You can't hear a thing because of the rain, no footsteps and no demon snarls. Only the steady downpour, and the echo of droplets, splattering when they hit the roof above with loud, persistent thunks.

Dammit. It's been an entire minute, and the spell is still telling you there's something within the circle. Just one presence; the spell can't tell you who or what is near specifically, but you can detect each entity inside.

You sense your magic, keen and continuous, invaded by the scorching, resolute soul of another. A deep, brilliant ocean, rippling in the wake of a pebble thrown into it. And those ripples aren't stopping — They're surging through your brain and your body, with a forcefulness that bleeds nothing but blood-red danger.

Your head spins faster the longer the seconds tick into minutes. You feel dizzy. The last time this happened, the last time anything stuck around this close to the cottage for more than a minute, it wasn't a demon. It was two presences, two men. They were lost, after they had traveled many miles into the forest from the main road, looking for one of their horses. Apparently, it was spooked on the trail, and broke away from their carriage to bolt into the woods.

They didn't stay for long. You were in your cottage at the time, and you remember not wanting to open the door, but they wouldn't stop knocking and knocking. When you gave in, cracking the door open hesitantly, it was just enough to meet the first man's eyes, but not enough to let either of them see inside.

Their tone was cordial, not suspicious. We weren't expecting anyone to be living out here, so far from any nearby villages, you remember one of them remarking. The first man ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, while flashing you an easy smile. You hardly noticed, because your gaze was focused on the sheathed dagger at his hip, and the glittering pendant hanging around his neck. A menacing shiver twisted up your spine and gripped you tight.

Still, you held your ground. You told them you hadn't seen a horse, and only that. They thanked you for your time, and left soon after.

Fucking hell, those men were knights. The pendant one of them was wearing — it was silver, engraved with text and a depiction of a lion. The knights in the kingdom have that same symbol on their armor, and out of respect, they'd be the only ones allowed to wear it as a necklace.

Those men, despite the clear hostility you must have been showing them, spoke to you so kindly. They told you they'd be nearby for a while longer, and if you needed anything, you only had to ask. The blonde man gave you a polite nod, and told you to be well as the both of them left, May the Gods continue to smile upon you.

If either of them grew suspicious, or if even one of them was capable of sensing the magic your cottage was surrounded with, they would have driven their daggers into your stomach right then and there. Townspeople might hesitate, before proceeding to slit the throat of their loved one while they slept, hoping to claim some sort of bounty for dealing with another wretched spellcaster. But knights do not. They are trained not to hesitate.

Thankfully, sensing spells is something very few can do, and most never know they can. Perhaps they can feel something, but they'll attribute it to an odd uneasiness, to a brief spark they felt flicker across their skin. It couldn't be magic. Not a soul would risk an utterance of the word, because to feel magic is to be able to use magic, and for that, they are better off keeping their mouths shut.

Either way, right now, you can't risk drawing attention to yourself. That day was almost a year ago. You lucked out last time. Anyone else who approaches your cottage next might not be so quick to leave. One wrong move, and you could easily wind up dead.

So, you hold still. Very, very still. A lone cabin out in the middle of nowhere, in the pouring rain, with no lights shining from inside isn't likely to draw much attention. Anyone in their right mind would assume it was abandoned.

Whatever it is, whoever it is, you only need to wait for them to leave, and you'll be in the clear. In the wake of your spell, you can feel the strength of the intruder's presence tugging at you, burrowing into you, cold like winter's breath and absurdly, ferociously sharp — but you'll be fine. They'll be stumbling back over the mushroom circle any second now.

You're probably panicking over nothing, honestly. There's no way anyone would be this deep in the forest during this kind of storm. They'd have to be crazy, stupid, maybe utterly lost. A lost fool isn't your problem. If the storm doesn't deal with them, the demons most certainly will.

Perhaps your magic is malfunctioning. Right, you haven't used this spell in so long that you've gotten rusty, and there actually isn't anyone here, you're simply mistaken. The storm is messing with you, is all. You shouldn't panic, because you have absolutely nothing to worry about.

That would be true, if someone hadn't just knocked on your door.

The sudden sound gets you to practically jump out of your own skin. You freeze up, your breath catching in your throat. When you hear the clear pounding of a fist against the wood for a second time, your concentration slips away, and so does your fire spell. The flame you held in your fingers goes out, leaving the cottage in complete and utter darkness.

"Hello?" Oh, great, that someone is talking outside your door now, "Is anyone there?"

At a pace that could rival only the most sluggish of snails, you shakily rise from your chair, and whisper another small flame into existence to light your way. You tiptoe over to the door ever-so carefully, directing the flame to follow with a wave of your finger. Briefly, you hesitate, before another set of knocks — more hurried, this time, as though whoever's on the other side is growing just as anxious as you — has your cheek pressing against the door while you peer through the peephole.

There's a man leant on the door, your door, clutching his side, and supporting his weight with his other arm resting on the doorframe. The soft light of the moon and stars dimly illuminates him. He's shielded from the rain, underneath the roof's overhang. His clothes are simple: pants and a tunic with long sleeves, fabric clearly soaked from the continual downpour.

It isn't anything you'd place as out of the ordinary. Even commoners would most likely be donning a necklace or a pin or something that'd tie them to the kingdom. You glance the man at your door up and down once, twice, but he seems to carry nothing of the sort.

More importantly, surrounding the hand he has pressed into his side, the off-white of his tunic is stained a dark red you can recognize even in the obscured darkness. His chest heaves as he struggles to breathe, and you feel an ache twist in your gut. His hair is dark, shoulder-length, and tied in a half-up style, his messy bangs in his eyes, with a small ponytail on the back of his head. Poking out from his hair is a pair of distinct pointed ears. They're decorated by an array of studs and hoops, with black, star-shaped earrings hanging from his lobes, glittering in the moonlight.

Your protective spell wanes. When you felt the chill of his presence, and the sharpness of his soul, perhaps you were feeling a fraction of his pain.

You watch the man's jaw tighten, droplets of water dripping from his hair. He raises his fist to weakly knock at the door one more time, and when there's no answer, the bridge of his nose forms a troubled knot.

"Please, I don't mean any harm, I was-" He winces, stumbling slightly, and he sucks a painful breath in through his teeth. "I was training in the woods… and the devils- I'm just an adventurer, I'm not a mercenary. I just want to rest until this storm clears, and then I'll be on my way. I swear it."

Devils?

Wait. Your gaze flickers back up to his expression, his brows pinched slightly as he attempts to hide his discomfort. Then, you look at his side, where his hand is pressed to an obvious wound, blood staining his fingers and speckling onto the sleeve of his shirt.

This is your fault.

When you head into the woods to forage, you always cast a distraction spell on the opposite end of the forest; it'll lure demons over to it, giving you a while of temporary safety. Sometimes there are stragglers, but nothing you can't sneak around or handle yourself. Most of the demons will head towards the area you've marked, drawn by the magical rune without their control. The spell is cast directly into the ground — hence why the rain on the soil causes it to disperse.

This stranger sounds like he's telling the truth, and with the condition he's in, he doesn't have any reason to lie. About most things, anyways. You seriously doubt he's an adventurer. There isn't anything out here of interest. Just endless woods filled with endless demons. Still, he's clearly injured, clearly in need. And you can't help but take some responsibility.

If he came to the forest to train, he must've been expecting a fight he could win. The demons here are strong, but mostly in numbers. If he's at all capable, a handful of them wouldn't give him much trouble. But you sent every single demon in the area to one location. A risky spell, but effective, as long as you know where it's been cast. He didn't.

Even after the rain came down, even once the spell dispersed and the demons ran to hide in their holes, there would still be a ton of them gathered, all in one place. Hell, as far as you're concerned, if he found himself facing down hundreds of those bastards, he's lucky to be alive — let alone still standing. He might be the luckiest man you know, actually, to have escaped that forest with nothing more than a single injury, and all four limbs intact.

But what if there are more wounds you can't see?

Nervously, you take a single step away from the door, clutching the front of your shirt as your heart continues to pound. Rain drums overhead, seeming to only grow louder and louder. Although it drowns out most everything, you can still hear when the man shifts, mumbling a swear to himself through gritted teeth. Gods, your poor heart won't stop racing, and you don't know what to do.

You're scared, for the first time in ages; scared of him, scared for him. You shouldn't let him in. That would be the stupidest thing you possibly could do. You shouldn't help him, shouldn't heal him. You should pretend no-one's home, and leave him be without letting yourself meddle.

You know that, and yet, you can't help but tell yourself you have to help him. No matter how much you try and force yourself to believe the opposite, you can't shake this feeling that you're the only one who can.

There isn't anyone else out here, not for miles. He won't make it out in this storm, and once he leaves the protection of the cottage, it's likely he'll get attacked again. From what you can tell, he doesn't even have a weapon on him. He'll get lost in the darkness. Demons will smell the sharpness of his blood the moment he steps back in the trees, and no matter how fast he can still run, he won't get far. And tomorrow, when you find what's left of him —

Another faint knock at the door has you stirring, your lips parting, although you aren't exactly sure what you should say. It's been a while since you've last spoken to someone other than yourself, not since those knights almost a year ago. Instead, your legs seem to move before you've truly thought about it, and you rush over to the kitchen, fumbling through cabinets to search for whatever medicine you have left.

Perhaps you can't let him in, that much is true. He walked over the mushroom circle with no problem, so you're assuming he isn't capable of detecting spells. Regardless, your cottage is covered in magical items. In potions you've made, and spellbooks that were supposed to be burned with the rest of them. You can't risk anyone sifting through your belongings.

And you already know pressure doesn't bode well with you; if you can't keep your cool, if you say one wrong thing and he somehow figures out you're a mage, dealing with his injuries will be the least of your concerns. He could leave and come back by sunrise with an army of knights prepared to slay you, for all you know.

You shouldn't be helping. This is dangerous. He is dangerous. You're foolish for caring about someone you haven't met, no matter how responsible you might be feeling. But that's the thing. You never get to meet anyone. And maybe, just maybe —

No, it'll be best if you give him some medicine and let him be on his way: some standard herbs, nothing infused with magic. Just something for him to take to ease the pain, and some ointment and bandages to help with the bleeding. You'll crack open the door, tell him you can't accept visitors, and offer him what you can. That's the most you can do. That's what you have to do.

You'll never see him again after this, but you know it's for the best.

You gather the herbs from the kitchen, and the ointment and bandages from the bathroom. You place them all into a small, spare pouch you had lying on the counter, which you hastily work to tie shut. As you walk over to the door, you can barely breathe. Your hands are shaking, and you stop in place, attempting to gather the courage to open it.

It'll be fine. I'm sorry, I hope this will help you. That's all you have to say. I'm sorry sir, you can't come in, but please, accept this. He'll leave, he won't know a thing, and you'll do just fine.

"Okay," The man's smooth voice starts from behind the door, causing you to abruptly tense up. He sounds more out of breath than before: "I don't think anyone is home, so I'm… I'm going to try to come in now. I'm not going to hurt you, just need to get the hell out of this rain- Please, don't kill me."

Shit.

You're unlocking the door in a hurry then. You fling it open, coming face to face with him; the man sways forward, almost tripping. He's rather tall, even taller when he stands up straight to look at you. Deep, worried blue eyes meet yours. Blue like the drawings of the ocean you memorized from your childhood story books. His expression is a muddled mess of pain, relief, exhaustion — and you must be making a face, because he's quickly attempting to make amends.

"Thank the Gods- It's okay," He says, giving you a reassuring look, and raising his hands defensively, his palms stained a dark crimson. His skin is pale, his eyes heavy, like he's lightheaded; "It isn't as bad as it looks. I'll be… fine, I'm-"

With one last stumble, his eyelids flutter. Bright lightning rips through the sky in the distance, and you're watching his knees buckle, leaving him to fall into you. You squeak in surprise, just barely managing to catch him. He's already gone limp in your arms. You're hardly able to hold up his weight, struggling not to just drop him to the ground.

Rain pelts the ground and the grass and your roof. In between the steady drone, tiny droplets of blood splatter onto the wooden floor of your cabin with a plip, plip.

Damn. And you were hoping to eat your stew while it was still hot.

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki x you

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 8 months

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Hi! Can I request a One Piece x Immortal!Devil Fruit!Child!Reader. The Reader has a Devil Fruit that doesn't allow them to actually die. They can Die but they 'Respawn' at a Random Location. They stay a Child forever and has met many people. Like Gol. D. Roger. And Whitebeard and Younger Shanks and Buggy.

Please and thank you.

I know you work very hard and are very busy but I am always patient. You don't have to write this, I understand. :)

Make sure not to burn yourself out!

-You could only look up at the marine who was going to cut you down, as the marines who had invaded the island you had been calling home were raiding everything and killing whoever they came across, wanting to purge the area so they could build a new base.

-It wasn’t the first time you had seen corruption in the World Government, and you knew it wasn’t the last.

-You weren’t scared, you knew that you wouldn’t die, you would just respawn somewhere else, completely fine. You had been scared when you first discovered your ability, more than four hundred years ago, leaving you stuck at age 6, but now, feeling the blade hit you, there was no fear.

-Warm sunshine hit your face as loud screaming filled the air around you, multiple people sounding freaked out as you opened your eyes.

-A… reindeer was crying loudly, looking down over you while a pretty woman with long dark hair had your head on her lap. The reindeer had a stethoscope, holding it to your chest while others were all freaking out, as you had just appeared in a bright flash of light.

-You inhaled the smell of salty air and you saw the bright blue sky above you, “Am I on a ship?” instantly the screaming stopped as they all turned to you, seeing that you were awake as you sat up, completely fine.

-Despite knowing that you are immortal, you always check where you would have died, where you had been hit by the sword, and like normal there was nothing there.

-Luffy came over, squatting down next to you, “So you are you?” you looked up and your eyes instantly went sparkly, “I saw you in the paper- you’re Luffy! Your bounty is so high!” Luffy immediately beamed, feeling flattered by your praise as he ruffled your hair before you spoke as Nami kneeled next to you, “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you all!”

-Robin smiled warmly, petting your hair, “You’re so polite.” You turned, nodding up at her, “I’ve learned lots over my life. I am over four hundred after all!”

-All eyes went wide, hearing this before Brook, Usopp, and Chopper started screaming, thinking you were a zombie or a ghost, panicking while Luffy and Zoro were poking your cheeks, finding that you were very much alive, and you were not a zombie.

-Franky lifted his large hand to his face, a smaller hand coming from the palm, lifting up his glasses, “So how did you come from a flash of light onto our ship.”

-Your eyes widened, as you had always been alone when you respawned, “So that’s what it looks like… well to put it simply, I respawned here. Whenever I die, I respawn in a random location. Where I was living was being attacked by marines, and I got killed, so I woke up here!”

-Stunned silence filled the air, all of them staring at you like you had three heads before most of the crew freaked out, “YOU DIED?!”

-You held your hands over your ears, the loud sound shocking you before you nodded, “Correct. I ate an icky fruit about four hundred years ago, and when I was killed shortly after, I woke up in a new place until I was killed the next time.”

-Eyes were wide, some in shock, others in anger, hearing that you had been attacked and killed so many times, Nami immediately had you in her arms, hugging you close, angry tears in her eyes, “You were attacked? By who!?”

-Luffy was oddly quiet as well, you were only a child, a young one, and to hear that you had lived and died so many times, it made him furious to think that you had suffered so much.

-You spoke up, answering Nami’s question while you were holding one of Brook’s hands, as you had never met a talking skeleton before, “This time was marines, they liked our island and wanted to build a new base, but the town I lived in was in the way, so they came and said we were all criminals and started killing everyone so they could build their new base.”

-Moments later you were in the galley with Sanji and Chopper, Sanji giving you a sandwich which you quickly tore into, your eyes sparkly, “It’s yummy!” which made him smile as he was in charge of keeping you occupied while Chopper wanted to do a medical evaluation on you while the others were preoccupied, changing courses after you told them which island you had been on.

-You were welcomed instantly into the crew, despite being a child, and they all gave their word to keep you safe, something nobody had ever told you before.

-However, you had no idea how angry they actually were, until you reached your old island, seeing the bodies of those you had called friends being burned along with the buildings, marines already making building plans.

-You had to remain on the ship with Jinbei, sitting on his shoulders as he was in charge of destroying the ships, something you were sparkly-eyed over, seeing his fishman karate, “Will you teach me how to do that?”

-Jinbei laughed warmly, finding your enthusiasm refreshing, ruffling your hair affectionately, “Sure thing Y/N- we can start tomorrow!” you threw your hands up, cheering loudly, ignoring the screams of those on the island getting their well-deserved karma.

-You ran to Luffy, hugging him around his knees, “That was so cool! You were all like POW! And WAM!” Luffy enjoyed hearing your take on their battle, beaming brightly before you grinned, “Can I have a bounty too?”

-Nami, Sanji, and Usopp all shouted out, “NO!” not wanting to taint you, but Luffy was quickly laughing, “We’ll get you the biggest bounty ever!!” you threw your hands up, cheering loudly as Luffy called for a celebration, welcoming you officially to the Straw Hats.

#one piece #luffy #sanji #zoro #usopp #nami #robin #chopper #brook #franky #jinbei

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malk1ns · 4 months

Text

this post and its tags gave me brainworms that i had to purge so that i can properly focus on SGE for the next month, so…

overstimulation, forces orgasm, and crying during sex. blame @yabagofmilfs. i hope you like it!

It’s too hot in the bedroom.

Sid’s lake house in Nova Scotia is usually cool—breeze blowing in off the water and big trees shading over the roof and the patio mean that it stays comfortable even on warm days. Sid keeps the AC on for the sake of the gym, but it’s set to 70, otherwise it gets too cold when the sun is down.

The humidity this week has been oppressive, though, and the air still, and even with the thermostat bumped down to 68 the second floor of the house is too warm, especially in the bedroom with its south-facing windows that get sunlight all day.

“Sid,” Zhenya gasps. His vision feels foggy, just as humid as the shimmering air over the lake outside, blurring at the edges. The wood paneling on the ceiling looks warped, and Zhenya’s breath feels hot as he pants. “Please, Sid, can’t.”

“You can,” Sid says, voice almost kind. “At least one more, bud, I know you’ve got it in you.” He crooks his fingers and rubs, and Zhenya jolts, but he can’t tell if he’s moving towards or away from the touch.

He’s sore. Sid’s been fingering him for what must be hours now, the slow maddening buildup he prefers when it’s the offseason and he has time to spread Zhenya out over beds across North America and Europe and really take his time, and Zhenya’s already come twice; the first one so gradual he was begging for relief by the time Sid relented and jerked him to completion, and the second one so quickly after it almost hurt.

And Sid’s not done yet. Not by a long shot.

“Are you crying?” Sid asks, and Zhenya blinks, trying to focus. Sid’s moving, keeping his hand where it is but stretching alongside Zhenya on the mattress, studying his face. “You are. Already?” The press of his fingers against Zhenya’s prostate is brutal and unrelenting, and Zhenya feels pinned under Sid’s regard. “You know you’ll thank me for it later.”

“No,” Zhenya says, rolling his neck so he’s facing away from Sid. He’s shivering like he’s cold, thighs shaking as Sid works him over, and the lazy sweeps of the ceiling fan do nothing do relieve the heat. “No, don’t, you—”

“Shh,” Sid says softly, dropping a kiss on Zhenya’s shoulder, and then he pulls his fingers free.

Zhenya whines, clenching around nothing, overwhelmed at how empty he feels, but then Sid’s hands are on him, rolling him onto his side and pressing up against him. Sid runs hot, and their bodies skin-to-skin like this is almost too unbearable.

The sound of Sid slicking up his dick with lube is almost obscene in the quiet room; Sid always uses so much, always groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt when he gets a hand on himself, and all Zhenya can do is squirm as he waits.

His whole lower half feels like it’s throbbing, like a bruise he can’t stop pressing on, like the place a tooth used to be that he can’t stop tonguing. His dick is barely hard, smeared with come at the head from his first two orgasms, but when Sid slides into Zhenya’s body, barely giving him time to adjust to the stretch, it twitches, sending a shockwave of pleasurepain up Zhenya’s spine.

“Stop,” he sobs, but he doesn’t mean it, and Sid knows that, gentling him with a hand on his stomach.

Sid feels enormous inside him. Zhenya’s oversensitive, and every pass of Sid’s cock over his prostate, every thrust, makes him shiver and shake in Sid’s arms.

He cries out when Sid’s hand closes around his dick. It’s too much, surely he can’t again, but then Sid’s stroking him, pressing murmured words into his back as he runs his fingers up and down Zhenya’s shaft, squeezing at the head the way Zhenya likes.

Zhenya sobs as he hardens in Sid’s grasp.

“Attaboy,” Sid grunts. “C’mon, let me see it. You can do it, baby, give it to me.” His hand tightens past the point of pleasure, and Zhenya wails and tries to curl into a ball as he comes. It feels like something is being ripped out of him, and his dick hurts, twitching through an orgasm that’s almost entirely dry.

Almost, but not quite.

“You’ve still got some left,” Sid says, lifting his hand and pressing his fingers to Zhenya’s lower lip. Zhenya opens his mouth obediently, letting Sid feed him his own come. “Gotta get it all out or you’ll just be begging for it later. Hold still, baby, and I’ll take care of you.” He pulls his fingers free and gets a hold of Zhenya’s hip, holding him hard enough to bruise as he fucks into him harder, panting hotly against Zhenya’s neck and practically flattening him forward into the bed. He’s not gentle, he’s not careful, and all Zhenya can do is lie there and take it.

“Fuuuuck,” Sid finally groans, hips stuttering forward as he comes. Zhenya can feel Sid’s balls against his own, and Sid’s sweat is dripping off his chest down Zhenya’s back. They’re disgusting, and Zhenya wants to marinate in how this feels all day.

Sid stays in him until he can’t, letting his dick slip out with a sound that makes Zhenya want to hide. He sounds sloppy—loose—wet with lube and come and fucked open by Sid’s fingers and his dick. When Sid rolls him onto his stomach and parts his cheeks to get a better look, Zhenya tries to kick him away, but his legs are heavy and tingling.

“Nice,” Sid says, voice low and dirty and appreciative. “You look pretty sore, bud.”

Zhenya lets himself relax. Three times in one morning is surely enough; now, Sid will go get a washcloth and some lotion, and he’ll clean Zhenya up and give him a massage, and then they’ll go lie out on the deck in the shade until Zhenya feels human enough to shower.

“I better kiss it better,” Sid says instead, and the touch of his tongue to Zhenya’s used hole is so sharply good that all Zhenya can do is writhe and press his poor, abused dick into the mattress and hope Sid finishes him off quickly.

#it’s short and only meh but #the tags possessed me and this was my exorcism #sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic

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fanfic-obsessed · 5 months

Text

The Force

This is another, ‘the Force is fucking with us right?’ Kind of idea that I feel like makes up about half my ideas.

It starts just after Obi Wan Kenobi is beheaded on the death star. The Millenium Falcon has just exited the Death Star but has not jumped to hyperspace yet. The alarms have not quite rung when two things happen that derail the entire sequence of events.

First Obi Wan Kenobi and Cody (who had been on Alderaan when it was vaporized) appear, from apparently nowhere in front of Luke, Leia, and Han. They look like they did at the beginning of the Clone War (Obi Wan is still only just recognizable as Old Ben). The second is that Alderaan (and Scarif) reappeared, completely undamaged (I just want you to picture, for a moment, the operators and techs of the Death Star or anyone looking out of one of the viewports where the Planet they just vaporized-with all the detritus that entailed- reappeared unharmed). Though it was not known right away every single victim of the Empire from the Purge forward (including the Clones) have reappeared, spread out throughout Alderaan.

Every single one of them have all their memories up to their deaths. Those that had been dead for more than a month also have some idea of what has happened since their death (taking into account age, mindset, and how traumatic the knowledge would be for them).

Everyone is still very confused.

On the Millenium Falcon, they do not jump to hyperspace because they are too busy gawking at the two men that just appeared (and everyone on board, barring the formerly dead men, is asking themselves some version of -does The Force work like that?). Then they notice that there suddenly is a planet where there had been a debris field.

Feeling more than a little bewildered, Han hesitantly begins to fly toward the planet and in the background CodyWan reunites after twenty years of believing the other was dead. They are guided to the Royal landing pad by a few shaken techs who will be asking for a vacation and a raise.

Onboard the Death Star, the low level techs consider if they should call Darth Vader? Should they call the Emperor? Fire again (It would take time for the weapon to charge and no one is really sure a second shot would do anything if the planet was reconstituted the first time)?

Vader is still down in the hallways of the ship, feeling anticlimactic victory over Obi Wan’s robes and well away from any viewport when suddenly the Force is feeling much…fuller? Then it had been a few moments before. The screaming that had been deafening since Alderaan’s destruction quieted and the crying he had been perceiving since killing the younglings had ebbed.

On of the comm techs hesitantly (so hesitantly, their speech was all full of all umms and errrs and they really hope that they do not piss Darth Vader enough for him to hunt the tech down-it would not be the first time something like that had happened) tells him that there was a Padme Amidala calling from the planet demanding to talk to him.

Vader manages to get out that she should be patched through. A large part of him is going PADME!!!!!!! A smaller part is going ‘there’s no planet here any longer?’

The conversations start with Padme going “ANAKIN NO MIDDLE NAME SKYWALKER” in a very pissed off tone. It does not get better for Vader from there.

This is not the same Padme at the end of ROTS, who had gotten so caught up in being in a romance novel that she was smacked in the face with the third act twist of it turning into a horror story. This version of Padme has been watching for twenty years exactly what Anakin was doing, separated from her need to see the best in him. She is closer to her TPM self, and absolutely livid at Fascism done in her name. Padme is also, to her reckoning, back from the dead, about to meet her children for the first time, and possibly immortal (after what just happened…who knows).

Somehow Padme’s entire rant is broadcast throughout the Death Star. None of the stormtroopers know who this person is but they have a deep instinctual need to surrender (Even Tarkin does not recognize Padme after 20 years).

The Millenium Falcon lands on Alderaan. Leia grabs her parents and holds on, before anyone can say anything. Luke sees Owen and Beru (also brought back, and to Alderaan) and does the same. Obi Wan and Cody are off to one side holding each other (Obi Wan is basking in the Force being lighter than it has in 2 decades-though he does not know that rest of the Jedi are also back). Han hovering off to one side awkwardly.

Padme comes storming out, having just finished her…conversation with Anakin. Obi Wan jolted (being the only person currently paying attention who would recognize Padme-Also Bail and Breha had already had the ‘oh that kind of back from the dead’ realization). Padme strode right up to Obi wan and slapped him upside the head ‘that is for getting decapitated before telling my kids they were siblings’ then she hugged him.

After a long period of time, Luke and Leia separate enough from their adoptive parents to meet their mother. Also getting to realize that they were siblings.

After the current reuniting, and uniting, is over Padme says ‘Oh, Anakin will be coming down shortly, he has some things he needs to say’.

Obi Wan, the only other person who knows exactly who Anakin Skywalker is, goes ‘Padme…that may not be a good idea’

Padme gives a smile that could also double as a threat display, though not aimed at anyone present. ‘You need not worry, Obi Wan, Anakin will be spending the rest of his life making up for what he has done.’

For the first time Obi Wan considers that cutting off Anakin's limbs and leaving him to burn on the bank of a lava river was actually kinder than letting him face the full fury of Padme Amidala.

He did manage to communicate exactly who Anakin Skylwaker is. Thankful, at least, that Padme was there for the ‘Our father is Whom???’ Padme does reassure Leia that she did not have to be there and confront the person who tortured her and blew up her planet, but Anakin does owe them all at least one Apology. Leia promptly decides she would be there.

It is an Awkward set of meetings, not the least of which is because Mace Windu comes through with some of the formally murdered younglings (who all knew what they would be facing and wanted to confront their murderer). Vader (and he is still mostly Vader) is not sure why Padme Amidala is intimidating him, but he is going with it.

At some point someone brings up the Emperor. Padme makes that same smile, the threat display, and says that Palpatine should probably start running before she got to him. Far away Palpatine felt a chill along his spine…something had just gone very wrong.

There will be time to deal with the new metric ton of trauma. Seriously there are types of trauma that had never existed that they would have to develop therapy for. There are people to find places for that have been dead for twenty years. There is still an Empire to dismantle.

But for now there is a man who is arguably the second most evil person in the galaxy awkwardly apologizing to his daughter (unknown) for torturing her and blowing up her planet, her adoptive parents for blowing them up, a slew of children he murdered, as well as an entire planets worth of people (many of whom he owes a very personal apology-also probably some kind of compensation), with his 5’3” formerly dead wife looking on.

Even the Force has no idea how we got here.

#star wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #codywan #sheev palpatine #anidala #star wars a new hope

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funkyplantguy · 7 days

Note

Maybe Permit Manager Cub giving Mumbo special treatment because he likes him? (Bonus if Grian is a little jealous in the background xP)

ohohohoho...yes...incredible, thank you very much... - mumbo liked to think that he was a man who had a fairly standard daily routine.

most days, he started his day off with breakfast. usually an apple (golden), or some other piece of fruit or bread - something easy to eat quickly and on the go. he was a very busy man, after all - he had quite a few farms and projects that he needed to check in with on a regular basis, and one very pesky neighbor who seemed intent on derailing him at every step. (not that he minded. it was just grian, after all - and who was he to deny grian?) next usually came lunch, then the afternoons were typically spent goofing off in some way or another with grian or scar or any one of the assorted hermits he called family. then dinner (mumbo staunchly believed in three full meals a day), then a quiet evening tinkering around in his base until it was time to call it quits for the night. pretty straightforward, all things considered, with only the occasional event or festival to derail his carefully laid out plans.

nowhere in his routine was getting practically eye-fucked by cub as he sat, squirming awkwardly, across from him at his desk, but hey - mumbo could be flexible! he could allot time out of his day for...whatever this was.

what this was, grian had explained earlier, in a huff of bristling feathers and irritated whining, was a negotiation. grian wanted a raise - that is, to be paid at all for the "very important work" he was doing as the assistant to the permit office manager - and for some reason, he thought bringing mumbo along would help him plead his case. unfortunately, all it had seemed to do so far was distract cub. "mumbo? mumboooooooo? mumbo, you in there? hello? anyone home?" mumbo jolted, banging his elbow (quite painfully, thanks for asking) on the desk as he wrenched around to look at grian. his face flushed a deep red as he was met with both grian and cub's direct attention - though varied, in the expressions adorning their faces. grian, for one, looked furious - earwings fluttering in irritation as he stared at mumbo incredulously. cub, however, looked deeply, concerningly satisfied, and not at all like he'd been paying a lick of attention to what grian had been saying, either. "are you listening? i was just telling cub about all the countless hours i spend on making sure that all of the shops in the shopping district are up to snuff, and how just the other day i spent at least 6 helping you restock that god-awful gold shop you have!" that...was not entirely true. mainly what grian had done during those 6 hours was perch on mumbo's shoulder and complain that he wasn't giving him enough attention. but if grian considered that "helping"... "huh? oh, yes, quite." "see?" grian exclaimed, turning back to cub. "he agrees - the work i'm doing here is very important, and deserves to be compensated." cub hummed noncomittally, and mumbo was suddenly drawn to how relaxed the other man looked, reclining slightly in his chair. poor grian. "i don't know, g," he mused, eyes flickering from grian to mumbo, then back again. "i think that mumbo here has just as much of a claim for compensation as you do. he helped you with that sign out front, didn't he?" "the pop-up purge sign?" grian responded, his voice climbing in volume. "the one where he added an ass to your likeness?"

"correct." "i really don't think that -"

"to be fair," mumbo mused, more to himself than anyone else. "it was quite a nice ass." "it was a nice ass. thank you, mumbo." "you're welcome, cub." for a moment, grian just stared at the two of them, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. cub stared back, blue eyes unblinking, as if challenging him to disagree. mumbo, for his part, opted to stare at anything but grian. then the moment had passed, and grian let out a huff, pushing his chair back and standing to his feet. "you know what? fine. compensate mumbo, for all i care. but don't come crying to me when the shopping district goes to shit with just scar and skizz in charge. i quit!" and with that he was off, soaring out the window and into the distance - no doubt going to scar's base to seek comfort (and to complain his ear off for the next several hours). mumbo let out a surprised laugh, then turned back to cub, freezing as he took in the way the other's gaze was now locked solely on him. "so...," cub started, and mumbo felt a shiver run down his spine at the tone. "it looks like there's an opening here at the permit office. interested?"

#had way too much fun with this one thank you anon #i love making grian the most annoying bitch on the planet slash affectionate #and also writing mumbo and cub's dynamic makes me giggle #i love writing mumbo as the most wet cat of a man you've ever met in your life #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #cumbo #grumbo - implied #scarian - implied #suggestive #august writes #august answers

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nctdreams4me · 1 year

Text

In Service of Mr Wayne

Synopsis: I need to do my part in protecting Gotham City - my home - from further decay and corruption. What I discover at the long abandoned Wayne Manor is beyond anything I am prepared for...6 nameless men, coming into the light as I uncover the truth about a legend, and my own past...

Pairing: Y/N (Femme/She/Her) X NCT U "The BAT" subunit (Johnny/Yuta/Jungwoo/Hendery/Jeno/Jisung)

Genre: Mystery Thriller Smut, Mostly PWP, Crappy Depictions of Batman lore so please DC/Batman fans don't read this. I did no research and superheroes are not my strong suit.

Word Count: 7k+

Rating: Explicit Sex, Mature, PWP, 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Gangbang, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spit Roasting (I think ToT), Double Penetration, Cream Pie, Cum Swallowing, filth I wrote in a sleep deprived state

Author's Note: Someone has to have written a better "The BAT" smut piece, please, someone tell me there are fics based off this video already? ToT Cuz look....I am in NO state to be writing this sort fic.

I wrote this in like 4 hours IDK what else to say. I just needed to purge this out of my system. Take it for what it is, me being horny for NCT ToT PS. Sorry for everything, I barely edited it. I wrote this just a few hours ago. I should be in bed. Enjoy.

* * *

The night air was still, not even a breeze. With the clouds covering the moon, darkness cloaked the manor that sat at the top of the hill overlooking the sea. I tried my best to blend into the quiet atmosphere as I pressed the pass code to the gate, one careful digit at a time, ears straining for any sort of noises.

The loud creaking from the metal gate doors sent my heart jumping around like the Trix rabbit after getting a bite of that sweet processed fruit shaped cereal. Looking around, the night remained black, even my feet before me difficult to make out, grey shapes I hoped wasn’t a trap just about to stun me into unconsciousness.

A new pass code at the front door before I heard the giant oak doors unlock. Gloved hand pushing the door, I entered into the empty mansion of retired billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Or that was what he wanted the public to believe.

I received an anonymous tip about Mr. Wayne hiding his hobbyist life. Did his broken body really come from a random car collision?

Or had the elusive billionaire gotten his body mangled behind the private walls of Wayne Corp?

It was up to the truth seekers of Gotham City to figure out the honestly of these stories.

My filthy, corrupted city - the only place I ever called home - was undeserving of deceit and exploitation. It was the local folks like my family and neighbors who helped me work my way up in life.

Despite our broken down apartment and dangerous streets that we called home, my community supported me through school and I’d gotten a step up in life by landing a job at the Gotham Gazette.

Sure, I’m just the mail delivery girl on the 7th floor - but I’d received a white, unmarked envelope in my locker. Inside was a dark, blurry grey picture of what looked like 6 bodies (shapes, to be honest) standing at the edge of a cliff, miles high above the ocean. The only writing was on the back of the picture. “Outside Wayne Manor” with a date just 3 days before.

Below were 3 sets of 7 digit numbers.

I’ve always thought there was something funny about Gotham’s philanthropic CEO, but I was still in high school when Mr. Wayne announced his retirement after recovering from a life altering car accident. He moved away to enjoy his retirement with his broken back in Madagascar.

Almost a decade later, suddenly there’s a suspicious picture with 3 sets of numbers sent to me? I knew I’d been a bit chatty about wanting to get a chance to get a journalist role at Gotham Gazette, but so did half of the interns at the place.

I had to figure out the truth, and I hated my job, so I’d spent all my free time studying the history of Wayne manor. Allegedly, Mr. Wayne had sold the land off to a company based in South Korea, but the sale happened around his retirement. I couldn’t find the name of the company (or any human names) from my research.

The place seemed untouched. No news or announcement on any new developments. It was like Mr. Wayne left the property to rot.

I should have told someone about my investigation. But then again, I didn’t even know if I’d find anything. I was surprised the pass codes worked. It was instinctual to enter the numbers at the gate and door. Now that I was inside, I could text my best friend. Let them know where I was and why I was there.

But before I could take my phone out of my bag, I heard voices in the distance. Turning away from the closed front door, I saw light in the distance. Like there was an area down the hallway toward the right side that had a lamp light on.

Quietly, I walked carefully toward the light source, listening for more noises. The voices were too far away to make out but there was more than two people inside the manor.

Walking down the hallway, I took a quick glance around. The manor looked pristine, like it’d been cleaned from top to bottom regularly. Fully furnished, room to room, but eerily quiet and still.

Making it to the end of the hallway, I saw a set of stairs leading downwards, the light source coming from below.

Taking my phone out, I took a picture of the stairway that led downwards. It looked like it had appeared behind a sliding wall of some kind. A hidden entrance.

Slowly, left hand holding my phone out, I entered. I heard voices echoing along the giant cave.

“...days til we can unleash Batman Project 9.0 -”

“No one agreed on that as the title.”

“Johnny!”

“Hey, c’mon guys. We have to get all the cars into the cave before sunrise. This is Robin’s most important project.”

Step by step on the metal stairs, I got more and more insight into Mr Bruce Wayne’s secret hobby. He was…he was the Caped Crusader, the…

“It’s the Batman,” I blurted out, eyes falling to the symbol of the Batman - long wings with pointed tips inside a thick oval - adorned on a giant wall, red light adorned over the white sheet of the Batman symbol.

“Who the fuck are you?” There were a pair of hands on my shoulders from behind, pushing me forward. I gasped, losing my footing. “Johnny, did you order a seventh member?”

Making it to the bottom landing, I threw my hands out to catch onto the table, hip hitting the metal top. My eyes scanned the laptops and maps scattered on the table before going up to see four men standing before me.

All wearing black, all of them with hair slicked back. All tall and hovering over me. The tallest and broadest of the lot took a step forward, hands in his front pocket.

“You got her phone?” he asked, eyes on me before darting behind my left shoulder.

“She took a picture.” The guy who’d push me had dark red hair, big black eyes scanning me in my skin tight leggings. His front was up against my back as he handed my phone to the guy across the table. “I had no idea anyone even knew of our arrival.”

“I-I’m from the Gotham Gazette,” I said, trying to step away from the hot body behind me. I cleared my throat, standing up straight. “I-I got a tip that there was something going on here. Th-this is Mr Wayne’s mansion. W-what are you doing here? The people of Gotham deserve to know. When Mr. Wayne left, Batman did too. We always suspected-but-I”

My neck craned around as I took in the cave. Cars, guns, protective gear, too many screens and gadgets for me to take much else in.

“Well, we can’t have you revealing the truth of the Batman,” the tall guy holding my phone said. He handed my phone to another handsome man, before running a hand over his mouth, eyes scanning me. Less menacingly than the red haired guy. “If you want the protection like Mr Wayne and the Batman provided all those years ago, we can’t have you leave here. Not until we know what to do with you. Not until we launch the new Batman program. You’ll get a team of Batmans to help take care of your city. That’s what you want, right?”

I took a step back, seeing him step forward, but I ran right back into the red haired guy, his front hotter than just a moment ago.

“C’mon Johnny, she’s cute.” He planted his hands on the table, caging me into his arms. “We can get good PR if she works for the Gazette.”

“We can’t just let her loose based on her word,” the guy named Johnny said, hands back into his pants pockets.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything to anyone,” one of the men behind him stepped forward. Milky skin, intense glare in his eyes as his hands fisted at his sides. “I can take care of a small thing like that.”

“Hey, I have a name.” I balled my own hands into fists. I'm not afraid to let these strangers know who I am. I have nothing to hide. I told them as much, giving them my name, telling them exactly how long I've lived on earth in Gotham, knowing my love and care for the rotten city went deeper than any of these strangers.

“We aren’t here to hurt you,” someone spoke up behind me. A beautiful man with pouty pink lips walked down the stairs, big eyes staring at me. “We want to clean up Gotham, too. We were all orphans. What do you think Mr Wayne did when he retired?”

“He…” I looked around. One tall handsome man after another. First one, Johnny. He was the only one with a name. Behind stood the man with the intense stare, his eyes making your heart beat faster. A taller guy stood behind him fiddling with a switchblade in his hands. Behind you stood the hot bodied red head and the beautiful pouty lipped stranger. “He raised an army of new Batmans?”

“So far only six of us,” Johnny said. He held a hand out, as if offering for me to take it. “I need you to trust us. We want to help. I’m Johnny.”

“I’m Jeno,” said the guy with the intense stare. His demeanor softened as Johnny shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind Jeno,” the one with switchblade said, throwing an arm around Jeno’s neck. “He’s more bark than bite. I’m Hendery.”

“Yuta, if you want to know my name,” the red haired guy said as he refused to let up space between us. His hand touched my hip. I stepped away, almost colliding into the pouty pink lipped guy. “Shy.”

“Come on Yuta, be nice.” The pouty lipped beauty gestured for me to take Johnny’s hand. “I’m Jungwoo.”

“Meet our young savant, Jisung,” Johnny said when I took his hand once more, stepping away from Yuta. He led me deeper into the cave, down a small set of stairs and toward an opening behind a dark corner. “Jisung! We made a new friend.”

I stopped, back colliding against Yuta as he remained behind me. He looked much older than I last remembered.

Jisung.

Handsome with muscular arms as a man. Sparkling eyes still soft with his pointed chin and high cheekbones. He belonged with his five handsome friends. All making me blush as they stared at me.

“Y-you’re supposed to meet us tomorrow,” he said. “Didn’t you get my letter? Who let you in?”

“You sent me that letter?” I wanted to punch his arm like when we were little, neighbors who played together. He could have simply come over to my place and explained. “There was nothing in there!”

His eyes scrunched up with his nose as he threw a hand to his forehead.

“I forgot to put the letter in with the picture.” He sighed, staring at me. My whole body flared up, seeing his eyes scan down and up my body. “At least Haechan dropped it into the right locker. You’re smart, figuring it all out with just the picture-not that I expected anything less from you.”

“Well, I did solve all the riddles in class,” I said, standing up straight. “What the hell is going on? Are you really bringing back the Batman?"

“I heard you needed help getting a foot into the Gotham Gazette, so why not team up with us?” he said. “I told Johnny I could get good PR with you.”

“This is-” I looked around the room, dozens of vehicles lined up neatly in the garage, domed walls making me feel like I could fall over at any second, “-impressive. What am I supposed to do?” “Tell the truth about what’s really happening with the criminals working with the corrupt cops and politicians,” Johnny replied. “We’ll have a security team work with you. Ensure no one’s following you or trying to breach into your phone and private affairs. We plan to keep your contacts anonymous and safe too.”

“And how am I supposed to trust you?”

“Come on,” Jisung said, walking closer to you. “I stayed up all night watching over you that night your parents were gone. No one to look after us but each other.”

“And then you left me without a goodbye!”

Like the pain of losing a pet when I was little, I didn’t know how long I’d missed it until I saw Jisung staring at me with such a deep voice, eyes refusing to look away from me. My tears were wiped away with Jisung’s thumbs as he held my face in his palms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lips against mine. Breathing mint into my mouth, taking over my senses. “We were kids. I didn’t know how to find you. Not until I returned.”

“Until now?!” His arms were around me, lips pressing against mine. I wanted him to keep kissing me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“So don’t leave me.” His lips on my neck, he whispered my name against me. “Stay. Stay with me.”

“With us,” Yuta said. I held onto Jisung tighter as I felt a hand on my lower back. “You have to tell her, Jisung.”

“Tell me what?” I asked, pulling away from Jisung, standing up straight to look into his eyes. “Jisung? Tell me what?”

“You have to earn our trust too,” Johnny said. “Jisung vouched for you, we did a background check, but I have a strict third rule in terms of trust.”

Jisung took a step back as Johnny stood before me, hands going to my hips. His hands roamed down my ass before gliding up my sides and his long fingers fondled my breasts. Hands grazing down my back and between my thighs. Down my calves before he stood up and pressed his body against me.

“You seem clean,” he said, fingers pulling my chin up to stare into his eyes. “If you’re not in the Batman program I can only trust you if you can handle all six of us.”

“W-what?” I snorted. “Straight out of Pornhub. What a convenient rule to throw onto me when I’m alone with 6 strong men.”

“Yeah, more or less,” Johnny said, hands on my hips as he pressed his front against me, hot cock hardening against my stomach. “You were a stupid fucking girl to sneak in here in the dead of night. Trespassing on private property. Honestly, I’d cage you up for that. But since you’re Jisung’s friend, this is considered a gift.”

“Jisung.” My eyes darted over to him, right behind Johnny. My heart beat thrumming against my throat as I felt Yuta’s breath at the crook of my neck, his cock poking against my ass. “You’re not…you’re not going to-” “Rules are rules.” Jisung's eyes were cold as he unbuckled the fastening at the wrist of his leather gloves. “I know you can handle this. You’re a fighter. We need fighters on our side.”

The confidence he had in me helped me take in a deep inhale, shaky breath outwards as my hands went under Johnny’s pants, helping him untuck his shirt.

“Fast learner, I like that,” he said, hands helping me unbutton his shirt. “Get down on your sexy knees and suck some dick.”

My whole head was spinning. Hands gliding down Johnny’s thick thighs as I dropped down to my knees. The words and affection of these men was convincing me to help Gotham out by using my body.

If I had to use my mouth on six cocks, I could do it. Prove to Jisung that I was as resilient as he believed me to be.

Johnny exhaled loud and slow as I planted kisses on his hard abs. Fingers undoing his belt buckle and zipper, palms stroking his long, thick cock. It was hot as it grew in my fist. A soft giggle escaped as I looked up at Johnny, seeing him bite his lip.

Hands massaging my scalp. He was impatient as one palm pressed against the back of my head, shoving my mouth against his wet, musky cock. Tongue licking along his length, I inhaled his taste. Licked and sucked his balls as I stroked his thick hairy cock.

“Fuck, keep it up.” He was lost in loud inhales and exhales, eyes shut as I put the tip into my mouth, sucking softly like I needed to drink up the contents inside his thick meat. “Shiit.”

I ate up more of him as I sucked in. Slowly sinking his cock in, inch by inch. Hoping my throat didn’t constrict until I had him in more than halfway. Hand massaging his balls, I gagged as his tip shoved down my throat, no air as it constricted.

“Don’t you fucking forget me,” I spat out as I stroked him fast, my slimy bubbly saliva all over his hairy cock. I sucked on his tip again, tongue swirling around the sensitive pink mushroom. “Who’s next?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Yuta undoing his pants. He’d been horny for me the second he laid eyes on me. I couldn’t wait to see if he could handle me.

I stood, pushing Johnny away as his fingers tugged at my jacket. I slipped it off, letting it fall to the floor as I walked over to Yuta, pushing him to sit onto the roof of a shiny black Porsche.

“Fucking pervert,” I breathed against his lips as his hands palmed my ass. “Haven’t been able to keep your hands off me, can you? Can’t wait to let me suck you dry?”

“Prove it.” His hands fell to his side as my hands went under his shirt to feel his abs. He was soft, smooth. A scent like ocean breeze and cloves right up into my sinuses as we kissed, my left hand slipping down his front to find a smooth, warming cock. “Anyone can choke on a giant cock.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny said. He groaned as I heard the wet noises of him stroking himself. “You’re going to cum the second she licks your balls.”

“Let’s see,” I said, smiling up at Yuta as he grabbed my hair, tugging my neck back. I whined, hands grasping onto his thighs for leverage. “Asshole.”

“Suck it,” he cooed out gently. Hissing with a loud exhale as I swirled my tongue around his tip. It poked against the left side of my cheek. I glided my tongue up against his sweet cock. Gathering saliva in my hand to stroke his base. “Fuck, you’re no fucking joke.”

I lifted his cock as I sucked his left nut before licking the right, using both hands to massage his shaft and tip.

“You’re a greedy fuck,” I said as I stood up, continuing to massage his tip with the tips of my fingers. “All about you and everything all over your cock.”

He pulled me in for a kiss, arms wrapping around my waist. Pervert sucking up my spit, making it a point to get a good taste of Johnny as his tongue explored my mouth.

“Go on, pick the next one,” Yuta said, releasing me, hands pulling my sweater off. “Whose dick will taste better than mine? Hm?”

I felt a hand palm my left breast, feeling blood rush up to my brain, making it hard for me to focus. A soft kiss on my shoulder as a pair of hands led me out of Yuta’s hot hold.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Jungwoo said, hands unhooking my bra from behind. “Press those pretty tits between my dick. Johnny, can I cum on her face?”

He looked away from me, standing up straight as he looked over at Johnny.

“You just want a titty job?” Johnny asked.

“We’re only cumming once?”

My whole body flared up like I'd been struck by lightning as I looked down at Jungwoo tugging his pants off. His pink cock wasn’t as hairy or thick as Johnny’s, but he was much longer than Yuta.

I was beginning to look forward to comparing the taste of their cocks. See whose cock fit my mouth the best. Jungwoo began pulling his clothes off, eyes on my body as he reached out to palm my tit.

“Jungwoo,” I said, hand reaching up to caress his muscular arms, “your body is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, face flushing pink. “I don’t have tits like you. Your body is amazing.”

I laughed against his lips as he pulled my body against his. His kisses were soft, he moaned when his tongue parted my lips.

“I’d love your tits around my dick,” he requested softly, hand stroking my neck.

I wanted to suck his dick dry, because he was so soft and gentle, but if he wanted a titty fuck…

I got down onto my knees, hands cupping my breasts as I wrapped them around his wet, squiggly cock. Holding my tits firmly around Jungwoo, I spat out to get some lube onto his tip.

The whole room was filled with low groans. My head snapped up as I saw all six men staring at me.

In that moment, spit gliding down between my tits and Jungwoo’s cock, I finally realized that I was fucking 6 guys.

All of them enjoying the sight of me.

Jungwoo moaned, hands scooping my hair up into a ponytail as his left hand held my hair secure. His hips thrust against me.

“So pretty,” he panted, praising me continually as his cock lit up my chest. “So fucking pretty. Your tits. Lovely.”

“My turn,” Jeno said loudly, hand wrapping around my arm as I felt Jungwoo’s breathing grow shallow. “Jesus, Jungwoo, learn to hold it in longer.”

Jungwoo’s whimpered, shriveling as I left his body. On my feet, I couldn’t stop staring at Jungwoo. Sweat was gliding down his bare chest, perfect nipples hardened as he nodded at me. Fighting to keep his eyes open as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“I’ll cum later.”

“Pretty, pretty lips,” Jeno said softly as he pushed me to sit on top of a black Ferrari. Fingers groping my cheeks as his palm pressed up against my chin. “Been a while since I’ve had such pretty lips on my cock.”

My eyes shut, feeling his sweet sugary lips over mine. His mouth was clean, free from the cock musk of his 3 friends. I sucked on his lips, loving the sweetness over my sinuses and taste buds. He moaned onto my tongue as my hands palmed his stiff cock through his pants.

“More bark than bite,” I breathed against his neck before sucking on his porcelain skin. Tongue gliding up against his Adam’s apple, feeling his heartbeat against the tip of my tongue. “Make sure you never forget these pretty lips.”

He was quick to be rid of all of his clothes. He pulled me up to my feet before he pulled my leggings and panties off, stating I needed to be naked for him.

Kissing up and down his shaft, I shut my eyes, savoring the special earthy taste of Jeno. He was like a woodsy forest, dewy and mossy, filling my senses with his calming scent. Smooth cock, thick and hot against my lips.

Licking up and down his big dick, I opened my eyes to see him with furrowed eyebrows, mouth hanging open with intense focus on me. Lips finding the thick blue vein on the left side of his cock, I sucked on it gently before licking my tongue against it, savoring the way the vein pulsed angrily against my taste buds.

Fingers from both of his hands fisted into my hair as I swallowed his tip, loosening my jaws, wanting to take all of him in. He breathed evenly as he shoved my head back and forth on his cock.

“So fucking pretty,” he panted, grip on my hair tightening, sending blood right up to my scalp as he thrust his tip back and forth against my throat, paying no mind to me gagging and spitting onto him, “Jungwoo’s right, you’re so fucking pretty.”

He released my hair as my hands pushed against his hips. I coughed inhaling air, mouth free from his thick cock. Hands stroking him as I blinked away tears from my eyes. My entire vision blurred when I was choking on his cock. My nipples and clit were throbbing, wanting a cock to be rough on my pussy too.

“Saving the best for last,” Hendery said, hands smooth as he pulled off his black leather vest, revealing a tan body, six pack abs glistening with sweat. Pecks smooth and firm. “Consider me warm up for your childhood friend.”

Jeno had me in his arms as he planted kisses onto my tits. An electric jolt hit my clit as Jeno wrapped his mouth around my left tit and sucked hard on it. My mind blanked as my whole focus fell onto the unbearable pain of Jeno grinding his teeth onto my swollen nub.

I moaned, feeling another mouth clamp around my right breast. Hendery sucked hard, his teeth giving my right tit the same pleasure Jeno gave my left.

“She’s good,” Hendery said through gritted teeth, hand shoving against Jeno’s chest.

I giggled, hands holding onto Hendery’s shoulders as he stepped me away from Jeno’s possessive hold. His lips went to suck on my neck before landing over my lips. Hand on my chin, he broke our kiss. Lips almost as sweet as Jeno.

His hands roamed down my back, groping my ass before caressing my sides and tits. His mouth returned to my tits, eyes barely open as he continually kissed and licked my fleshy mounds. I shut my eyes, blood rushing up my back when he made eye contact with me, tongue licking my left tit.

“I want to play with you so much,” he said softly, fingers pressing up against my slit. My hips shook as I pushed myself closer to him. “Show me how good you can suck my dick, first. Kinky little thing.”

Obedient to his gentle order, I got down onto my knees, hands helping him tug his pants down as he sat down onto the table. Shutting my eyes as I wrapped my mouth around his citrusy musk, like inhaling oranges as his tip twitched down my throat, tickling my tonsils.

“Yes, so good.” His soft hisses encouraged me to keep bobbing back and forth. The taste of his cock was addictive, I wanted to keep sucking, as if his cock was an orange creamsicle. I wanted the foamy white stuff. “Fuck.”

His voice pitched up high, palm resting at the crown of my head as I sucked faster, left hand massaging his balls.

“How do you like it?” I asked, inhaling loudly when I let go of his tasty cock. My tongue lapped up sloppily against his balls as I fisted his shaft, stroking fast, chest swelling as Hendery’s hips shook and he whined. “Kinky enough for you, Hendery?” “Better not cum,” Johnny spoke up. “Hend, get it together man.”

“She’s a good cock sucker.” Hendery groaned, hands on my shoulders to pull me away from his cock. My jaw was hurting, knees feeling numb and raw, but the shy half smile he gave me sent a sharp surge of energy into me. I wanted to keep sucking him off. Find out if Hendery’s cum tasted as good as his cock. “Fuck, you’re a good cock sucker.”

“Thank you,” was all I could say, cheeks flushing.

“Come on.” Soft baritone reverberating down my spine as a pair of hot hands pulled at my hips, away from Hendery. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for months.”

“Jisung.” I turned around to see him with sweaty hair, damp tendrils falling over his eyes. I moaned as his fingers glided up and down my sides. His hand landed on my shoulder. “I-i…are you sure you want to do this with me?” His hand over my right led me to his stiff cock, smooth and hot. His eyes closed, his head tilted up into the air, hissing as I stroked down on him. I kept stroking him, feeling tears welling at the corners of my eyes.

Chest shaking, I wanted to please Jisung. I wanted to taste him. I knew he’d taste better than anyone else, but…

Blinking away the tears, I fell to my knees. Mouth kissing his tip, I laughed against his cock as it twitched. Tongue swirling around his tip, I stroked the bottom of his shaft before kissing his cock well. I wanted to know every centimeter of his cock against my lips, never forget Jisung’s cock.

His groan rang deep into me when I pushed his cock into my mouth. Thick tip engulfing the entirety of my mouth as I tried to suck in more. Tongue lapping up against him as best as I could. Savoring his earthy musk, licking up his bitter sweat. Making my mouth pool, pussy just as wet.

Tears leaking out the corners of my eyes as I looked up at him, hands massaging his balls. I tried to steadily suck his cock, but I felt a shiver ride up my back.

Releasing him, I let out a sob. I landed down on my ass, legs tucked under me as I wiped my tears away. Jisung called out my name, stooping down to pick me up.

I felt at least 3 pairs of hands on my body as I got onto my feet. Shaking my head, I thought of the glint of pride in his eyes when he said he needed a fighter.

“Fuck me, Jisung,” I said, sitting on the edge of the table. “Anywhere and any way. Who wants the other hole?” “Fuck, look at how kinky you are,” Hendery said, body pressed up against my left side, fingers fondling my folds. He hissed when I moaned, body hot with pleasure. “I knew you were kinky.”

“Yuta’s got dibs on the asshole,” Yuta said, pulling me back onto my feet.

“Of course.” I laughed as I felt his arms wrap around my waist, lips on my neck.

Yuta laid down onto the edge of the Porsche, hand fisting his cock, keeping himself hard. Jisung helped me get onto the car, hands unable to stop groping my body, fingers teasing my folds. Lips on my body as I laid on top of Yuta, back to Yuta.

My mind blanked as Jisung stood over me, bending over so he can position his cock against my pussy. Looking up at him, seeing sweat drip down his chin, gliding down the sides of his face, my whole body throbbed along to Yuta’s heartbeat underneath me. Head falling against Yuta’s chest as I felt Jisung's thick cock slide into my wet hole.

“Sucking that much dick makes you wet.” Jisung grunted, hands firmly holding onto my hips. I mewled, feeling him go in deeper, cock squirming as my walls enveloped him. Palming my tit, he nodded as he stilled inside of me. “Fucking precious cunt, you're mine.”

“Ji-jisung,” I moaned. Eyes shut, my hands squeezed his arms as I felt Yuta guiding the tip of his cock into my ass. “Yuta, y-you didn’t-lube-or-prep-”

“I’ll be slow,” he breathed against my ear. The knots in my stomach twirled tight as I felt two throbbing cocks fill both my holes. “So tight.”

“Get to sucking,” Johnny ordered, hand fisting my hair as he directed my mouth to his cock. He stood beside the low sitting car, cock right against my face. I moaned, refusing to break eye contact with him as I took more of him in, trying my best to loosen my throat and jaws. He groaned, controlling me with his fist in my hair. “Good girl. I’ll trust you when you swallow my cum.”

My entire body was ablaze. All I could focus on was trying to breathe through my nose as Johnny’s massive cock assaulted my throat, my neck straining. Senses overloaded as I struggled to breathe or taste anything but Johnny's salty cock.

My pussy was aching. Jisung didn’t give any shits how Yuta’s cock was affecting me. His thrusts were relentlessly fast as he chased for his release. Hands kneading my tits as he groaned out praises over how good my pussy was. Moaning around Johnny’s cock, he benefitted from the ways Jisung fucked me.

Yuta’s ragged breaths shaking under me sent chills deep into me, slow careful thrusts against my asshole creating deep ripples of pressure into my guts. Relentlessly slow and pleasurable, I moaned onto Johnny’s cock again.

My grip on Jisung’s thighs tightened as I felt Johnny’s hot cum spurt into my mouth. Holding my head still with both hands Johnny grunted as he shoved his cock down my throat.

“Swallow it,” he commanded, voice sharp. “Swallow.”

Obeying I gulped as best as I could with his cock keeping my mouth open. Gulping again when his cock left. He laughed as he got down and kissed me, tongue lapping all over lips and chin. He hummed against my lips before letting me go.

“Fuck, Jisung, she’s one hell of a fuck.” Johnny’s heavy panting intensified the shivers down my back with every thrust of Yuta’s throbbing cock inside my asshole. “Fuck, get to it Jungwoo.”

Yuta cummed, hips thrusting up hard, interrupting Jisung’s fast strokes. I gasped, whining as Yuta’s tip pressed up hard into me. Such a hard thrust, it felt like he hit the back of my cervix. I barely had mind to notice Jisung getting off, cursing as he glared at Yuta.

I whined, feeling Yuta’s cum heat up my ass. Eyes shut, I bit my bottom lip as the tingles rode up my back into my guts.

It wasn’t until his lips were against me did I realize that Jisung had me in his arms. Yuta had given me to Jisung once he got his release.

What a fucking gentleman.

Jisung’s soft lips on me brought my mind back to him. I wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him gently, hoping he hadn’t gotten hurt with Yuta’s greedy fucking.

“Jeno, let her sit on your lap.” Jisung let me go as he looked over to Jeno. He smiled, hand fisting his cock. “Put on a good show.”

“About fucking time,” Jeno said, taking my hands as he sat down on the Ferrari. Hands fondling my breasts as he pulled me onto his lap. “Gorgeous body. Soft tight pussy. Let’s get it, Jungwoo.”

I shivered, heat riding down my back as Jeno’s teeth nipped my earlobe. Tongue gliding down the side of my neck. Left hand squeezing my tit as his right hand parted my legs wider with every soft caress down the inside of my thighs.

“Fuck.” I moaned, whimpering as the pads of his fingers stroked up and down against my aching clit. Tip of his middle finger sinking into my pussy. “Jeno, I like how you handle me.”

“I know,” he whispered against my ear, tongue teasing the shell, “so hot deep in here. For me, yeah? For me.”

I moaned as his finger went in deep, thumb rubbing against my clit. Lips on the pulse at the side of my neck, Jeno’s fingers left my pussy. Instantly, his cock was parting my lips, tip prodding against my clit.

“Time to multitask,” Jungwoo said, stepping forward, eyes fixed on my face. His lovely, big brown eyes scanned down my body, long slender fingers massaging my tit. “So pretty, I want to see those pretty lips on me.”

“Yes Jungwoo.” One hand caressing his abs, fingers collecting his hot sweat as I curled them into a fist before laying my palm flat to marvel his abs again. My other hand wrapped around his long cock. Hot thing pulsating, wet with clear precum leaking out the tip.

Tip of my tongue flicking against his tip, I tried to rub my taste buds against him, taste every bit of Jungwoo. I want to see if I could get those giant puppy eyes to bulge out, surprised with how good my mouth is. He whimpered, hands gently bobbing my head up and down as he thrust against my mouth.

“Fuck, suck him good,” Jeno breathed out, hands on my hips as he bounced me on his cock. I whined onto Jungwoo’s cock as I felt Jeno’s middle finger flicking my clit. “Cum on my cock. Cum on me.”

Trying to stroke Jungwoo’s shaft as I sucked on his balls, I tried not to get lost in the way Jeno’s cock was sending mind melting thrusts into me. Giant cock rearranging my insides as his fingers mashed my clit around like an elevator button.

I sucked hard when Jungwoo came, his hands holding onto my head as he stilled. Cute thing was silent when his cock softened in my mouth. His beautiful long fingers caressed my cheeks as he let me go. Silently walking away to pick up his clothes as Jeno stood us up.

He turned us around, my knees and palms hitting the top if the Ferrari. Hands on my hip Jeno pushed himself balls deep into me. One hand reaching for my right tit, he thrust back and forth hard. First time, I cried as the motions of his cock turned my vision red. Second time, we moaned together as he pulled me up against him, hand kneading my tit.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he panted, hand on my shoulder to push me forward, forcing me to plant my hands against the Ferrari again. Left hand on my hip as his hips slapped my ass. “Make me cum.”

“Jeno!” He spanked me. First on the right side and then the left.

“Tight cunt,” he panted with a guffaw. He kept spanking me with his cast iron skillet palms, red heat reverberating so deep into me my insides shook like Quasimodo ringing the bells of Notre Dame. My walls constricted around his cock again. He groaned as he quickened his pace. “Fuck, make me cum.”

By his own accord, he came as he spanked my asscheeks into bright red hot plates. Cock heating up hotter - like thick molten lava - in my belly before he pulled out and spilled his cum over my ass, smearing his cock against my thighs when he finished cumming. All I could feel and smell was Jeno's musk. Body reverberating with undiluted pleasure.

“Territorial shit,” Hendery said, pulling me away from Jeno. “You don’t always have to mark things when you cum.”

“Get it over with,” Jeno panted out, sitting back down onto the hood of the now fucked up Ferrari, eyes barely open. Sweaty back making squeaky noises as he laid down on it, completely naked.

Hendery rested his back against another black car - another Ferrari - as he kissed me. His soft kisses sent calming shivers down my body. His gentle touches on my body relaxing my muscles.

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” Jisung breathed against my ear before I felt him kiss the back of my shoulder.

I yelped, honeyed swoon as he tugged my ass against him, hand on my lower back guiding me to lean down closer to Hendery’s cock. Hendery’s citrusy musk consumed my senses as I took hold of his cock, licking up against the underside of his wet stick. My tongue glided over the parting of his ballsack, sucking up his sweet fresh musk as I felt Jisung glide his cock against the puffy lips of my pussy.

Hips shaking, I was ready to cum. Moaning into Hendery’s cock, I thrust my hips back, wanting Jisung’s cock to ruin me.

They both praised me as Hendery moaned at my mouth sucking on his smooth cock and Jisung sunk his cock into my wet pussy. Stroking Hendery hard, I licked around his tip, hoping he would come fast. My mouth was aching and my back was shaking, legs feeling weak.

Most of all I wanted to savor Jisung fucking me. His cock was heating my insides like the best cup of coffee on a chilly winter morning. Keeping me comfortably warm with every stroke into me.

Without warning, Hendery cummed into my mouth. Hands keeping my head still as he ordered me to swallow him.

“Swallow it good,” he said, similarly to Johnny. “Swallow, good girl. Good - fucking - girl.”

He fondled my breasts - soft fingers rolling my sensitive nubs around like marbles - as Jisung continued to fuck me. My hands grasped onto Hendery’s hips as I shut my eyes, moaning as Jisung’s cock radiated up into my stomach and up to my chest.

Hips thrusting against Jisung, I moaned as my entire body was hot and sweaty, lost in complete sex and lust. The stench of all 6 men all over me with my own sloppy sex all over the Bat Cave.

My back was pressed to Jisung’s front as he bent over, fingers intertwined with mine as he wrapped our arms around my waist. His thrusts were relentless, hips slapping roughly against my ass. He grunted, arms pulling me tighter against him as he came. Cum lighting up inside me, dripping down my legs.

"Jisung." I inhaled shakily as his cock left me. I fell to my knees, palms against the concrete to catch my fall. "Holy fuck, Jisung."

“You did great,” Jisung panted out, throwing a large trench coat over my shoulders, picking me up in his arms. “I told you, you’re a fighter.”

“Jisung,” I panted out, eyes roaming over the Batman symbol on the wall behind us adorned on the wall, “do you trust me now?"

Forehead against mine he nodded. A soft kiss on the lips. A calming warmth rode over my aching body, completely stuffed with cum. Sex filth all over me as all six Johnny, Yuta, Jungwoo, Hendery, Jeno and Jisung left me in ruins. Comfortably in Jisung’s arms.

"For today."

* * * THE END * * * Thank U 4 Reading! Like, reblog and send in Ask if you liked it!

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pmak2002 · 5 months

Text

There was something peaceful about laying on the bathroom floor with your sickly husband asleep on top of you.

He had a terrible stomach bug that had been keeping him up all night. You enjoyed the quiet that had finally settled in your small bathroom.

You laid awake as you played with Timothee’s sweaty curls.

You were grateful that he was finally able to get some rest. He had been miserable all day and now he was up during the night too.

You peppered kisses on his head and hummed to yourself. You could hear the sounds of NYC outside the window of the apartment building.

Timothee’s stomach gurgled uncomfortably as he laid ontop of you. Only wearing tank top and shorts as he was sweating buckets.

You rub his back and coax out a few burps and farts from him. His normally slim body was bloated from gas and it made him miserable and uncomfortable. Despite the bed made from multiple blankets and pillows on the floor next to you.

Timothee had rolled over to lay on you instead. He only wanted to be held while he slept. So you were stuck until his body decided it needed to purge itself. Thankfully he had been asleep for a while and you hoped it stayed that way.

You don't know how long you are out for. But when you wake up Timothee has gotten up groaning in pain clutching his stomach. He looks at you eyes glassy and tired.

His stomach making horrifically loud noises that sound like they really hurt.

timothee groans and rushes over to the toilet to have bad diarrhea, his shorts around his ankles and his whole body shakes from the effort of expelling watery waste.

You frown and go to kneel next to the toilet where Timothee removes his hand from his stomach to grab yours and place it where it hurts the most. You immediately begin to rub and gently massage his bloated belly.

“Hurting!” Timothee groans with each cramp.

“I know lovey I’m sorry.” You say. You gently massage his bloated stomach until he feels empty and has nothing left to expel out his backside.

You help him clean up and flush away his mess. Then help him return to the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

As soon as you sit down though he's on your lap whimpering and shaking. You frown as he's clearly becoming delirious from the high fever.

“Shh it’s alright you’re ok I’ve got you.” You say gently as you hold him in your arms. He buries his face in your neck.

Work had been a lot and he was so exhausted and in a way it was good that his body was forcing him to rest.

Of course he was absolutely miserable and in pain. That sucked but he needed all the rest he could get and now that he was sick. He could rest.

Timothee whines and nuzzles you.

You hold him tight and kiss his head. his stomach gurgling and bubbling as he sits on your lap. You use your other hand to gently massage his stomach.

You sit like this for a while holding him and trying to help him relax despite the pain in his belly. soon hes nauseous and leaning over the toiket burping up whatever is left in his stomach which isn't much of anything.

He whimpers and coughs as he spits into the toilet. You rub his back and stomach trying to help him find any relief from the aches in his gut.

"Why does it still hurt when I have nothing left?" He cries.

“I wish I knew.” You reply. You grab toilet paper to wipe his mouth. After tossing out the tissue you go and lay down on the floor with the blankets and pillows that were supposed to be for Timothee. He lays down on you like earlier and you wrap your arms around him and kiss his head.

“Time to sleep mon armor.” You say.

He yawns and you grab a blanket to pull over the both of you.

He sighs heavily and his entire body seems to finally relax and he falls asleep on you once again. You play with his hair until you fall asleep too.

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #Timothee chalamet sickfic #sickfic #stomach bug #fever #tw vomit #diarrhea #tw scat mention #scat tw #stomachache #stomach flu #caretaking #fever whump #bloated stomach #timothée chalamet x reader

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rinixo · 2 years

Text

cherry waves

Din Djarin/Reader | 3.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, sex pollen trope, description of illness, vaginal fingering, first time

In hindsight, that caf did taste a little off.

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

read on ao3

The quiet murmur of the crowds were faint in the back of your mind as you sat underneath the shade near a small food stand. In front of you on the table were various datapads, and as you sipped on your caf your eyes darted from one to another, analyzing the information.

Off in the distance, The Mandalorian entertained the child by walking him past the various shops and stands. The baby had been distracting you from your current task, so the metal man had graciously pulled him away to ply his attention with shiny baubles and roasted skewers.

The market you were on wasn’t particularly large or well known, but it suited your needs well enough. The three of you needed to stretch your legs and breathe non-recycled air after a couple of weeks being cooped up in the Crest. Being able to stock up on some basic necessities was a plus, especially in a place where you were unlikely to be noticed or tracked by the various bounty hunters and imperial remnants out to find you.

However, supplies and fresh air were only second on your list of priorities. What you really needed, and what eventually led to you sitting there surrounded by datapads was a reliable Holonet connection.

A few days ago, you had approached Mando about your current progress on tracking down information on the Jedi Order. You had stockpiled terabytes of records and information prior to fleeing Naboo, which had been helpful, but could only get you so far.

“I need to cross-reference the variables against the network in order to extrapolate the most relevant data points and establish the locations with the highest likelihood of success,” you had explained. Mando had turned slightly in his seat, and you guessed that under that helmet he was frowning.

Smiling apologetically, you tapped your nails against the side of your datapad. You had the tendency to get too technical when it came to your passion. “I need a stable connection to the Holonet so I can plug in the info we know about the Jedi against recent mentions or sightings so I can narrow down where we should be looking.”

That seemed to make sense, so a few days later there you were, hooked up to the Holonet on some planet you had already forgotten the name of. For the past hour, you had been running the data, searching for info points on your keywords – ‘Jedi’, ‘laser sword’, ‘space magic’, etc – hoping to find something that would get you closer to your goal.

A while later, your search had yielded a half dozen promising leads. Pleased, you shut off your data pads and began to pack up your items up as Mando waltzed back over.

“Any luck?” He asked, and you nodded as you stood.

“Actually, yes. I found some relatively recent data that I think is worth investigating.” The two of you (and the baby, tucked away in his pouch at Mando’s side) began your short journey back to where the Razor Crest was docked while you continued to speak. “The New Republic has removed most of the Imperial censors on the ‘net, but a lot of the data on the Jedi has just been purged completely. It’s not so much that the information is censored at this point – rather, the information just doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in a format I can access.”

“But you found something?” Mando asked, and you detected a tinge of hope in the timbre of his voice.

Reaching into your pack, you pulled out one of your data pads and pulled up some coordinates. “Yes, several locations that have mention of information or remnants of Jedi history, and in some cases alleged sightings of actual Jedi.” Mando took the pad from you as you approached the Crest, climbing the ramp into the belly of the ship. “One of those places is just one jump away, actually.”

Mando handed the pad back to you, and began to head towards the cockpit. “Good job. We’ll start there.”

You set your things down among the recently re-stocked supply crates, hoping that turning your face away from the man was enough to hide the heat in your cheeks and the shine in your eye from the compliment. Your halfhearted attempt at dampening your crush on the armored man had failed, and your heart continued to race every time he praised you or brushed up against you.

You had acknowledged that Mando’s first priority would always be the child, which you respected and agreed with. You often wondered if the subtle hints you sent his way, in your body language and voice, made it through the beskar armor. He was still as stoic and unflappable as he was when you first met, but his replies had started to come easier and it felt like he would now go out of his way to spend time with you, instead of the wide berth he had given you half a year ago. Part of you knew that it was due in no small part to the trust the two of you had built, but the romantic in you also liked to wonder if it was something a little more.

A sharp pain in the back of your neck pulled you out of your wistful thinking, and you winced. Chalking it up to too much caf too quickly, you decided you finish putting your things away and take a nap. You didn’t want it to turn into a headache or migraine, and a nap was usually enough to stave such off.

Several hours later, you remained awake in your cot, head aching and body burning. You had slept in fitful bursts until the burning under your skin forced your eyes back open to the low light of the hold where you lay. Sweat trickled across your skin, and you let out a low moan tinged with pain. You felt like your very blood was made molten, chugging sluggishly through your veins and pooling uncomfortably between your thighs. Every slight movement of your legs and your body sent shocks of sensation to your most sensitive nerve endings.

Hoisting yourself up with some difficulty, you shuffled slowly towards the refresher, thin tank sticking to your clammy skin. Pushing open the door, you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, someone you had a hard time recognizing staring back. Your skin was slick with sweat, your pupils blown dark and wide. With a shaking hand, you turned on the water and tried to relieve some of your pain by splashing it across your face. It did nothing to help, and merely splashed your already sweat-soaked top with ice cold water.

Shutting the water off, you turned to return to your cot, only to bump straight into a broad metal chest. The impact wasn’t very hard, but in your fragile state you fell to the ground, legs shaking underneath you. Your head pounded, and you groaned and covered your eyes.

“Are you alright? You don’t look so good,” Mando inquired. You rasped out a ‘no’, throat dry. You weren’t sure what was going on, but you knew that you definitely did not feel well. Your pussy throbbed at the sound of his voice, which would normally not feel so bad. In your current state, it was almost painful.

Mando turned, looking for something, and returned shortly with a cup of water. He knelt to be closer to your level, and held up the cup to your lips. He helped you sip, and you downed the water gratefully, feeling the dryness in your throat ease some.

“What happened?” Mando asked, and you sighed.

“I don’t know,” you said weakly. “Maybe I’m sick? I felt fine until we got back to the Crest. I had a bit of a headache so I tried to sleep it off, but it just kept getting worse and worse.” A low ‘hmm’ emanated from the beskar helmet, and Mando pulled off a glove to place the back of his hand gently against your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, thankful for the coolness of his skin against your blazing cheek.

“You’re burning up,” Mando said, concern evident in his voice. “It’s odd that you’d get this sick this quickly.” You let out a whine as he removed his hand, letting you head lull to the side. A sudden thought rushed through your head and you looked up at him in panic.

“You – and the baby – I don’t want you two to get sick,” you breathed out. “You should get away from me, and keep him away.” Mando stood, and pulled a datapad towards him. Frustrated that he seemed to ignore your concern, you tried to pull yourself up and found it more of a struggle than you could attempt. Choosing instead to crawl towards him, you pleaded for him to return to the cockpit.”

“Hush,” Mando commanded, and it was like every cell in your body stood at attention to obey him. You shut your mouth and rested your head against his armored thigh, closing your eyes to ride another wave of the burning in your blood that seemed to both come from and end up between your legs.

“Did you have anything to eat when we were in the market earlier?” Mando asked. You shook your head weakly.

“N-no…just a couple cups of caf…”

His helmet tilted sharply to look down at you. “Caf? Are you sure?”

Confused, you shrugged. “I…I think so?” Now that you thought about it, it had tasted a little unusual, but you had assumed it was just some kind of local variety. “It was a little…spicy…?”

A muffled expletive was all you heard as Mando set the datapad down and crouched to get at your eye level again. He grasped your chin gently in one hand to steady your head, and you felt your blood sing. You could faintly make out your reflection in his helmet, your pupils so dark it felt like your vision should be black.

“Wha-?” you said in a hushed voice, confused. Mando sighed, and let go of your chin. He remained in a crouched position, arms on his knees and hands opening and closing into fists as he struggled to explain.

“I think you’ve been poisoned,” he started slowly. Your head shot up, panic evident on your face. “Not on purpose,” he clarified, “at least I don’t think so. I don’t think what you were given was caf. That planet is known for an herb that – in some people – elicits this kind of reaction,” he gestured at you. “I’m guessing that it was in what you drank.”

Your mind raced. Poisoned? Herb? None of it made sense in your addled state. All you knew was that with every passing moment your body throbbed with need and you were edging closer and closer to shoving your hand into your pants right here in front of the Mandalorian.

“Is there an antidote?” You moaned. “How long does this last?”

Mando shook his head. “Not that I know of. From what I’ve encountered, it can last a couple of days, but I’ve never seen someone have such a strong reaction,” he explained sympathetically. “I don’t know how much you had, so I don’t know how long this will last.”

“Is there anything to relieve this feeling?” You practically begged. “Mando, I’m desperate, this is unbearable…”

The man cleared his throat. It was clear he was struggling with something.

“There is,” he said lowly. “But it’s…it’s not something that…” he trailed off. You stifled a sob and crawled closer to him. One of his hands came to steady you at your shoulder.

“This reaction – the herb – it affects your libido,” he continued calmly. You grit out a short, strained laugh.

“No shit.” Something about him acknowledging he understood what you were experiencing was almost liberating. You felt like the more he talked to you, the more he touched you, the closer you were to him the clearer your head felt. The burn under your skin was still there, and the desire pounding through your veins, but your mind and attention were more focused.

“Yeah. So you can work it through your system faster by, uh…” he stumbled over his words. “R-releasing…”

You wanted to sink through the floor and float off into space, never to be seen again. The idea of getting off here with Mando knowing was mortifying. Sure, you were attracted to him, but this was not the way you had fantasized about approaching the topic with him.

“Damn it,” you murmured. “Damn it.” You looked up at Mando, debating your options. It seemed you could either ride this out, not knowing how long it would last, or get off until it wore off. Mando made it sound like it would be at least a few days before it was out of your system naturally You already felt at the end of your rope after just a few hours, so you crossed that off your list. That left you with one option.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you sat back on your haunches. “Can you help me up?” You asked, voice trembling. “Get back to my cot so I can, uh…”

Understanding, Mando moved towards you. Instead of sampling helping you stand, you let out a small squeak as he hoisted you up into his arms. The feeling of your skin against his cold armor was both a relief and a trigger, sending more need through your body.

He walked you over to your cot, and gently laid you down. You let out another (mostly) involuntary moan as his strong embrace lessened, and you desperately wished he would continue to hold you.

“Thanks,” you gasped out. “I’m so sorr-“

“Do you want help?”

You closed your mouth, not knowing to believe what you thought you just heard or not. He had said it so suddenly. His helmeted gaze was fixed on you, and you propped yourself up on one elbow.

“H-help?” You gulped. “H-help how?” His gaze remained steady, and there was a tension radiating off his body like you hadn’t seen before.

“I could…touch you,” he clarified. “Help you…release. Only if you want to,” he added. “Never without – I’d never presume –“

“Yes,” you said breathlessly. Your body hummed with desperation and need. “Please, yes, Mando.” His concern for you was intoxicating, his hurried explanation endearing.

Mando slowly moved to sit on your cot. While your sleeping space wasn’t exactly tiny, his bulk took up most of the space as he leaned against the wall, spreading his legs slightly. “Lay against me,” he said gently. Your body immediately obeyed his command, and shot up to crawl between his legs, settling between them, back against the cool structure of his chest. You felt dwarfed by his body and his presence, and that in and of itself was sending notes of gratification through you.

He shifted you slightly, so that your legs could spread wider. The feeling of his gloved hands against the soft skin of your thighs made you gasp sweetly, and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back.

A short rustle, and then his hands were back, this time bare. “Can I touch you?” He asked again, one hand on your thigh, the other hovering over the waistband of your bottoms. You nodded, and let out a hushed ‘yes’. Despite your enhanced state, you felt fully in control of your senses and cognizant of your decision.

Mando slipped his hand under your shorts, and cupped your dripping cunt. You spread your legs further, bumping them up against his. His hand on your thigh rubbed soft, soothing circles as his other prodded your folds and clit carefully.

You were so pent up and sensitive your first orgasm came embarrassingly fast. Mando slowly caressed your swollen pussy as you bit your lip and whimpered.

“So soon?” Mando joked breathlessly. Your hands came up to grip his pants, fisting the material as your lower half writhed.

“M-more Mando, please…”

He obliged you, putting pressure on your throbbing clit. You chewed on your lower lip, trying to move your hips in motion with his ministrations. His hand ventured lower, two fingers slipping inside you as the heel of his palm rubbed your clit. You opened your mouth in a silent ‘ah’ as he began to stroke in and out of you – not too deep, just enough to make your legs begin to shake.

His unoccupied hand came up to rest on your lower stomach. You marveled at how hands so calloused could feel so soft against you. You looked down at where he continued to pump in and out of you, cheeks burning. You were wetter than you had ever been before, and the sound of Mando touching you was nearly obscene.

You could feel another orgasm approaching. Your hands gripped his pants harder, and you arched your back, trying to get Mando to fill you more. His hand on your stomach stayed firm, holding you in place as he methodically fingered your dripping cunt.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice husky and low even through the vocoder. “Let me help you-”

“M-maker…” you gasped. He ground his palm against your mound, and you were on the precipice. Your thighs shook with the effort of trying not to writhe so much that he lose his grip. You wondered where he learned to do this. Maybe it was the effect of the herb making you more sensitive, but it was like he was playing your body like an artist perfecting a masterpiece.

Your orgasm built like chain lightning, and rolled over you like thunder. Your thighs snapped closed, trapping his hand between your legs. Your head fell forward as you wailed, Mando coaching you through your second release.

“Yes, good girl, you’re doing so well-“

It felt like your release lasted two lifetimes before your thighs began to part. You felt extremely sensitive as Mando slipped his fingers out of you, trailing them up over your clit. Your body jerked from the sensation, and you panted, eyes closed.

“Feeling better?” Mando murmured, hand rubbing soft circles on your tummy. You nodded, voice not found. You were feeling lightyears better in fact – the burn was still there, but so much more subdued and your head no longer pounded.

“Mmm,” he said. “I guess your exceptional reaction results in exceptional completion.”

You let out a laugh. “Is that your hypothesis?” Mando’s hands returned to your thighs, and you bit your lip as he teased the soft skin there.

“Perhaps,” he mused. “I think it could benefit from more investigation.”

“Agreed,” you breathed, letting the pleasure wash over you as he resumed his attention dutifully.

pt 2 but with din getting sex pollen’d.....? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #sex pollen #din djarin smut #mandalorian smut #mando x reader

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