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gutsby · 5 months ago

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If You Like Piña Coladas

Pairing: Neighbor!Joel x Reader

Summary: You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Foodplay (i.e., Joel fucks you with a fruit popsicle). Girthy, unspecified age gap. Mentions of blood.

Note: Loosely inspired by ‘Escape (The Piña Colada Song)’ by Rupert Holmes…minus the part about mutual infidelity LOL

Word count: 8.0k

Joel Miller had been on his own for too long.

The least you could get him was a date. Or even just laid.

Likes: Long walks on the beach

Actually…he hadn’t seen a coastline in ten years, at least. You backspaced slowly and then lowered Joel’s phone.

What did that old grump like to do, anyway?

In all the years you’d been living next door to Mr. Miller, you hadn’t seen him take pleasure in much of anything besides mowing his lawn, rolling his eyes, and screaming like a fiend alongside your dad at whatever game was on.

Likes: College football. Quality time with friends :-)

Nope. Corny as fuck. Backbackbackback.

You wiggled your thumbs over the keyboard in muted concentration. You knew you didn’t have much longer. Joel was currently engrossed in one of the three things he loved most—mowing long, careful rows through his backyard—and you were supposed to be watching the season finale of the Mandalorian while he did. That had been the pretext of your visit, anyway. It’d been a little over an hour since he’d stepped outside and a little under thirty since you’d let your curiosity get the better of you and seized his phone, so you figured he’d be back soon.

You had to think of something witty, and do it quick.

Feeling inspiration strike a second later, you typed:

Likes: Piña Coladas. Getting caught in the rain. Making love at midnight in the dunes on the cape.

Perfect. Easy. Everybody loved that song in the ‘70s.

Having thus put the finishing touch on Joel’s profile, you leaned back and let out a contented sigh. You scrolled. Flicked through photo after photo of your very own hand-picked selection and smiled, feeling proud.

You’d started him off strong and suave with a picture from Tommy’s wedding, wearing a tux that fit him well. Then a cool, casual snap of him at a brewery. A photo taken out on the lake, life jacket snug and showing off a sliver of his broad, bare chest. Then a picture of him at your graduation—you made sure to crop yourself out—followed by a candid shot of him playing dress-up with his niece. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all the yet-unknown, lovely folks of Hinge would eat this shit up.

You set the radius to 100 miles. Beefed up the age range and gender preferences to include virtually every living soul over 30, tweaked a few more prompts to be cooler, then scrolled through his newly-minted profile. Again.

Oh, and— shit, wait.

Quickly, you toggled to the phone’s settings and disabled all notifications for Hinge. Then you grabbed the app and wrestled it somewhere deep within all the utilities ones that no one ever used. This had to stay hidden for now.

And, just as you stretched your thumb to make a couple last changes to his page, the back door thundered open.

Joel stumbled in, half-hunched. Rubbing his face with a towel and treading slow, heavy steps through the living room. With your heart about to burst from your throat and your impulses blown to shit, you panicked and crammed his phone in your shorts—like, in them.

Joel’s phone was just then settling above the groove of your ass when the man collapsed on the loveseat across the room. Instinctively, you drew your legs to your chest as Joel groaned and pulled the towel away from his face.

“The beast is at it again,” he declared, expression grim.

Before you could ask who ‘beast’ might be, he clarified:

“Marlene’s shit-for-brains labradoodle won’t quit diggin’ holes under my fence. Whole thing’s gonna fall if he—”

You didn’t mean to be rude, but you had to tune out the rest of what he said; your butt squirmed against the sofa as your neighbor’s phone traveled perilously down and took partial lodging between your cheeks. Then stuck.

There was no way you were getting caught like this. One stray phone call or text and you would have the world’s most jarring ringtone buzzing straight up your ass. And a very uncomfortable conversation with Joel, to be sure.

So, while he droned on about the chaos being wrought by the paws of old Sparky, you nodded to the window.

“Aw shit, Mr. Miller…did he just…dig up another?” You feigned surprise as you stared over Joel’s shoulder at a hole that didn’t even exist. Then, when he’d jumped to his feet and growled ‘No fuuuuuckin’ shot’ as he made his way over to the window, you acted fast and pulled the phone out of your ass and stuck the old, cracked thing on top of the coffee table where it’d been last and stood.

Before he could see—or say—anything else, you seized your own phone and made a swift beeline for the door.

Shouting over your shoulder, probably sounding like a fucking lunatic but not particularly caring either way:

“DAD’SCALLINGMEGOTTAGOMISTERMILLERBYE.”

And you left. You had no desire to explain your baseless, bullshit observation or why his phone was currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat from your butt.

You’d never seen so many roses in your life.

Joel Miller could legitimately give the whole Bachelor franchise a run for its money with all the goddamn virtual flowers he’d been getting from his Hinge admirers.

It’d been a week before you’d finally gotten the chance to abduct his phone again and check his ‘likes’ for yourself. Honestly, you hadn’t been expecting much—Joel was hot, but more so in a niche-ish sort of DILF-sexy way. You figured he’d be more of an acquired taste, really.

Once you’d scrolled through just over a hundred different messages, you realized at once how wrong you were.

‘GNAWING at the bars of my enclosure.’

‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry, I mean, Daddy?’

‘Need you in a way that is concerning to feminism.’

‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.’

And that was truly just the tip of the iceberg when it came to all the wild, chaotic, and horny messages Joel had received over the last week. You couldn’t believe it.

You got to firing off responses as fast as you could. Sitting cross-legged on the back porch while your dad, Joel, Tommy, and a dozen other neighbors were busy grilling burgers and soaking up as much sun as possible.

The only other person who hadn’t joined them was Tess.

She peered over your shoulder and fought back a laugh.

“That man is a fuckin’ menace to society, I swear.”

“No, we’re a menace to society. All about team effort,” you corrected her as you typed up a lightning-quick ‘Hey ;-)’ to each message, fingers moving fast.

“He doesn’t even know you’re doing this!”

“He will soon enough,” you mumbled. Grinning. Then, “Mission’s not over until that old man gets his dick wet.”

You’d probably made it through seventy or so replies and got to go back-and-forth with a couple hot prospects by the time you heard footsteps trailing up the steps—heavy ones that you instantly recognized as Joel’s. Without another word, you exited the app, turned the phone off, and chucked it to Tess, who placed it discreetly onto the porch railing where Joel had left it.

That phone really should have had a passcode on it.

Two weeks later, it did.

You saw it as soon as you’d slid your thumb up the screen in the comfort of Joel’s living room—over at his place pretending to be watching your Star Wars spin-off again—and you felt your heart jump up in your throat.

Your passcode is required to enable Face ID.

Since when the fuck did your neighbor have a passcode? Or even know how to make Face ID a thing? Or use it?

These questions and a dozen more were thrumming through your skull when you heard the screech of the back door once again. This time, instead of taking his sweet time on his yard work, Joel had only been gone five minutes. You swallowed a scream and did that dumb, reflexive thing you had before: shoved his phone in your shorts and thrust yourself back into the couch.

Practically shaking when Joel stepped into the room.

Of course, he wasn’t sweaty. His shirt wasn’t smudged with flecks of dirt or swaths of green from the grass outdoors, nor were his Wranglers the slightest bit muddied. He was perfectly clean in a plain white tee, jeans, and boots. You couldn’t help but notice how tight the short sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps, and then you realized it was because his arms were crossed.

Joel regarded you with a look as long and as careful as the rows he was supposed to be mowing out in the middle of his backyard right now, and he let out a breath.

“Guess what,” he said.

“What?” you squeaked.

Your eyes widened without meaning to, and when Joel plopped down on the sofa beside you, you felt a shiver pulse through your body. Joel stretched his big, wide, denim-clad legs out as he leaned back, and you had to force yourself not to jump when his knee struck yours.

“I’ve gotta brush up on my Gen Z lingo,” he announced.

Wh— okay? What the fuck?

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, and feeling the slightest twinge of relief at this declaration, Joel started to tug something out of his pocket. It took you several seconds to see it, then a couple more just to work out what it was, then Joel was squeezing it. Flipping it open.

An old Motorola Razr? When did he get that?

“See, I, uh— met a girl last week,” Joel resumed, plainly careless in the way he fingered the thing in his grip.

Your chest tightened. Had he really?

“She’s a little on the…younger side. You might know her.”

Oh shit. Was Joel banging one of your friends?

You swallowed hard and nodded for him to continue. You pretended not to notice when he flipped the phone open and left it that way—starting to thumb through the keys to do something on it. You fought the urge to take a look.

To distract yourself, you watched his face instead. It was lax.

“She said somethin’ kinda funny last night, and I—” Joel paused to let out a breath of a laugh, and you nearly broke down to steal a glance at what he was looking at.

Narrowly, you resisted. And it was a lucky thing, too—the next thing you knew, Joel’s gaze was fixed right on you.

“Y’know what she said to me?” he asked.

“What?”

Joel blinked. You probably should’ve heard the click of a little button on the phone he was holding, but you didn’t.

You did feel the vibration of another phone under your ass a second later, though. That one was unmistakable.

That one was Joel’s.

Out of one more stupid, senseless instinct, you coughed. Loud. Like the momentary scratch in your throat might reasonably mask the sound and sensation of a small hunk of metal buzzing between your butt and the couch.

It didn’t, of course. You sat and stared at Joel as it rang.

Slowly, he brought the Razr to his ear. At one corner of his mouth, you could discern the first inklings of a smirk.

“Wanna answer that?” he hummed, nodding to your rear.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

You weren’t sure how you even had the strength to do it, but you reached back and plucked his phone out of your shorts. With your gaze still stuck to his, you answered it. Put it to your own ear out of habit—and a little bit of fear.

“Hello?” you said, stupidly.

“Hey.”

The second you heard Joel’s voice rumble out beside you on the couch and across the line, your heart dropped. Ironclad confirmation of all you didn’t want to believe.

You squeezed his phone even tighter and sincerely hoped the man couldn’t hear the wild, erratic beat of your heart as it throbbed and thudded in your chest. The noise was almost too loud for you to hear anything else, too fast-paced and frantic to discern another word until:

“Can you tell me what a ‘Hinge DILF’ is, darlin’?”

You rose to your feet, scarcely even realizing it.

You had to get off of that couch, had to get away from him and come clean, as calmly as you possibly could. The phone fell out of your grasp just as he ended the call.

“Shit— Mr. Miller— I-I-I-I can explain.”

Swiftly, suddenly, Joel recovered his phone from the floor. He set the other device aside and propped his feet on the coffee table, lounging a little more comfortably now that he could scroll the phone at his leisure. Before he did, though, he made a point to wipe the screen.

“Nothin’ I love more than ass sweat on my phone.”

Your cheeks heated to a thousand degrees.

You wished the ground below your feet would open up and swallow you whole. It was like you were floating somewhere over your own body, unable to move or speak. From this vantage point, and still paralyzed with fear, you could see Joel opening Hinge on his phone.

“Crazy how long the stuff sticks,” he mused aloud, starting to peruse his likes, “When you got up and high-tailed it outta my place that first day, I thought I must’ve been seein’ things—what with how wet my phone was.”

You would’ve closed your eyes in utter resignation if you’d had the strength. Joel had known this entire time.

The old man continued to scroll, cavalier as ever.

“I figured ya might’ve been havin’ some…personal time of your own on my phone—maybe your old man blocked PornHub on the home WiFi or somethin’—but then I kept diggin’ around…” As Joel spoke, his actions seemed to mirror his words, and he was really scoping out the app. Combing through profiles and roses and streams of old messages that you had sent, then shrugged to himself.

“…and all I found added up to jackshit,” he concluded.

This time, you managed to meet his gaze when he looked back up, but really, you hardly saw him at all.

Joel was smiling.

“I did see a text, though.”

He waved his phone, where a few messages were visible, though not legible, to you. You didn’t try to read them.

“‘Welcome to Hinge! Reply ‘C’ to confirm your phone number and get started,’” Joel rattled the first one off.

Of course you’d forgotten to delete the fucking text.

“And I know my memory’s all but gone to shit, but I didn’t remember ever replying ‘C’ myself, so then—”

“It was a joke,” you choked out, cutting him off.

Joel cocked a brow. He leaned even further back in his seat and crossed his feet. You were already vomiting words before he could attempt to get one out himself.

“N-Not a funny joke,” you clarified, voice shaking, “Fuckin’ stupid as shit, I just wanted to see— y’know— me and Tess were talkin’ ‘bout how hard it must be…in your…in your fifties— it’s just hard finding somebody.”

Joel didn’t know what you were trying to say, and his face showed it. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“So you think my sex life is a joke?” Mr. Miller quipped.

“NO!”

You hadn’t meant to say it so loudly. You quieted down:

“No. I didn’t…no. I just wanted to see who would…”

“…wanna fuck me?” he finished, blunt as ever.

If your face had been hot before, surely it was about to burst into flames right now. You didn’t get like this—not around Joel Miller, not around anybody—but here you were, chest constricting with humiliation and shame, wishing you were anywhere in the world but the place you were, and Mr. Miller was smiling, he was still smiling, and it was all you could do to just stand there and…stare.

And wince when tears started to prick at your waterline.

As if this day couldn’t get any more mortifying, you were actually crying in front of your neighbor, nose stinging and beginning to leak. Stupid, stuttered gasps leaving your lungs like you’d just learned to breathe yesterday, vision blurring the man in front of you and then dimming, momentarily, as you brought your hands up to your eyes and tried to shield this wretched display from his view.

You paced a couple hasty, blind steps away. You pressed the heels of your palms so hard into your sockets that stars started to dance behind your lids and a pain began to stab your brain. You continued to sob. It was just then dawning on you that you’d have to make a run for it now and never set foot near this man’s property again. You’d have to lock yourself away, never get to go to a barbecue again, probably face a restraining order from Joel and—

“FUCK!” you shrieked.

With all the grace of a giraffe on roller skates, you tumbled over Joel’s end table and took a nosedive into the floor. Your hands had no choice but to fly out in front of you in an effort to break your fall, and of course, they had to land on a lone, stray beer bottle on the ground.

One lovely little container of Corona Extra went splintering under the weight of your whole body, and briefly, before the thing exploded beneath your palm, you swore you could’ve heard a tiny, self-righteous voice:

‘¡La Vida Más Fina!’

Fuck you, Corona.

You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. Even if the bottle had managed to roll far enough to nick just the edge of your hand, slicing a minuscule strip of skin beneath your thumb, you still wanted to cry even harder. You looked pathetic, crumpled up beside this man’s couch with your wrist pinched between your fingers and your tears paving two steady streams down your cheeks. Hedged in by a field of shattered glass, you cast a look around yourself and whimpered. Then cursed. And cried.

You heard the shards around you crackle and snap even more when a pair of boots stepped in and crushed them.

Joel made easy work of your deadweight frame—your body hanging limply in his grip as he hoisted you up to your feet. Your vision was still as bleary as it had ever been, nose running and stinging and still struggling to take in breaths, but Mr. Miller’s hold was steady. He guided you into the kitchen and straight over to the sink.

Water ran. Wounds stung. A couple more sobs clawed out of your throat while Joel held your hand under the faucet, dabbed a paper towel across your hand to dry it off, then disappeared, momentarily, to retrieve what you assumed would be a first aid kit from the other room.

Instead, Mr. Miller returned with a fifth of Maker’s Mark. You eyed the bottle of whiskey in his hand and grimaced.

“N-Nuh-uh,” you blubbered, emphatic, “No way, man.”

“Uh, yes way, man,” Joel mimicked your voice, nose scrunching for dramatic effect as he elevated the pitch, “Like, you totally need this antiseptic so you don’t die.”

“I don’t s-sound like that!”

“I don’t so-o-und like that!”

Of course your neighbor couldn’t be assed to show an ounce of compassion to another person for more than two minutes. He drew closer with the whiskey. When he grabbed your wrist, you huffed and shook your head.

“That’s gonna hurt. I don’t want it.”

“Oh, cry me a fuckin’ river.”

Though as soon as he’d said it, the man winced a little. Maybe that had been a bit too harsh. You sniffled hard.

“Fuck you, Miller— I-I was doin’ you a favor!” you spat.

Tears and snot becoming the fuel for part of your newfound indignation, you shot Joel a look and scowled. You wrenched your hand out of his grip and made a point to rebuff the bottle of liquor as you moved back, shaking your head again. Mr. Miller stood there and watched you.

“Only time you ever leave this fuckin’ house is when you’re hangin’ out with my dad or your brother, you haven’t got shit else to do around here but mow that fuckass lawn and jerk off— I was tryin’ to help you out! Get you laid like any normal guy would like, but no, no— you’ve gotta go and be the world’s biggest ASSHOLE about it, just like you are with everything else. I’m sorry.”

Deep down, you were and weren’t remorseful at all.

You were sorry you’d gotten caught, ate shit over a side table and got your palm fucked up by a bottle of beer.

You weren’t as sorry that Joel seemed to be regarding you as a joke now—something to tease and poke fun at. Trying to pour his makeshift disinfectant over your cut and force you to obey his orders because you were just too dumb to figure it out yourself, then mock your voice.

Then watch you with tightly knit brows, eyes scanning your face with a skepticism that was almost palpable.

Condescending old fuck.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ to say to that?” you seethed. Emotions running high—and humiliation momentarily usurped by anger—you stared him down and dared him to speak. You didn’t care what he thought of you now.

If it had been in your interest to care, you probably would’ve looked a little harder at what the man’s body language was communicating to you in the meantime. What his mouth was evidently loath to say, his hands and feet hardly displayed the same reticence: he set the bottle aside and stepped closer to you. He stared back.

It wasn’t until he’d approached near enough, had closed the space between your body and his with barely more than an inch or two to spare, and glowered down at you, face frozen with a frown, that your brain got the hint that he might not be the type to chicken out. Or back down.

He reached behind you and opened a cabinet.

“A favor,” Joel echoed, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to replicate your intonation as he said it.

He’d just marginally checked his douchebag predilection, was closing the cabinet door beside your head and was starting to rock back on his heels, when a little cylindrical glass swung low in your line of vision. Joel held the tumbler loosely, then lifted it and pointed with his pinky.

“You,” he said, accusing, “fuckin’ suck at those—favors.”

Your stomach clenched at the sight of a slight, impish smile just then starting to frame the sides of his mouth. The featherlight grip he kept fastened on the glass, the ease of his stance, even the jab of that stupid, rough finger, still pointing at you, all bordered on nauseating. You fixed him with a pitiless look as he leaned in again.

And when his knuckles brushed your side, you tried not to flinch. You arrested his gaze without a word and let the smug, sun-tanned, sweet-as-shit-pie son of a bitch have his fill ogling you back and closing in on the bottle.

“What? Having half the tri-county population on Hinge ready to suck you off isn’t really your style?” you jeered.

Joel popped the cap and poured his drink. He shrugged.

“They ain’t you.”

As casual as if he’d just told you the weather forecast for the week ahead, his favorite place to eat, or the mundane specs on a construction project he’d been saddled with for months. Nothing of note. Nothing unknown. Just a routine admission of truth that sent your head reeling.

“You wh— w— well that’s—” you stammered, equal parts astonishment and exasperation as he continued to feed you steady, unrelenting doses of that look: “GROSS!”

You were standing stock-still, forced to watch that blip of a grin morph into a full smirk, slowly. He had to be joking.

“You are…fucked in the head, Miller. That’s not funny.”

Now you were the one pointing. Joel was drinking.

“—and I’d never in a million years even think—”

The side of your palm began to throb. It bled.

Blood was trickling down your wrist, roaring like thunder in your skull as your heart thudded away, impatient.

Impatient.

Impatient, impatient, impleeeeeeeeease fuck me, Joel, PLEASE!

Your libido a filthy, rotten traitor to all the rest of your better sense, you continued to stand there and suffocate on words like something akin to acid reflux in the throat. Your thighs snapped together, your back collapsed with equal force against the rigid set of cabinets behind it, and slowly, almost excruciating this time, you felt the pulse between your legs give way to a bout of warmth.

That cockhungry slut governing your bodily functions was actually getting wet for this asshole, and you were powerless to the effects of her wily, DILF-lusting ways.

“Gross,” you uttered out loud, again, reflexively—face overlaid with a look of horror as the heat began to pool.

And, as though the man had been endowed with the gift of infrared vision, or else just an external thermostat to gauge how hot you’d gotten between your two sweating legs, Joel brightened. His gaze flirted down to that soft, unseasonably tepid spot with a knowing look and then—

“Gross,” he parroted back. The smile behind his eyes said he wasn’t disgusted at all, just teasing some more.

When he pinched your wrist to get back to the business of blotting out blood with a paper towel, he kept that smug look painted across his creased, ancient face.

“‘S’that why ya made a Hinge for me? ‘Cause I’m gross?” Mr. Miller applied pressure to the still-bleeding cut, then directed your other hand to hold the paper towel in place.

You shook your head.

“No,” you started, trying not to wince before he turned. Again, the man ambled out of the kitchen, only to come back momentarily—finally—with a long-awaited bandaid.

“I mean…yeah, you’re a perv, but that’s beside the point.”

Joel exhaled a little harder through his nose. He pressed the underside of your palm again, ensuring the bloodflow had stopped, then swapped the napkin for the bandage. The adhesive might’ve been in place for two seconds before he was retreating again; this time, to the fridge.

“Then what was the point?”

Joel yanked one door open. You glanced over your shoulder to the one that led out to the back porch.

The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to go.

Go.

GO!

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly.

From where you were standing, you weren’t sure why you’d decided to make Joel the profile in the first place. Your curiosity, for one thing, had been one hell of a persuasive motivator to getting you scrolling on Joel’s behalf, but why did you care one way or another if your neighbor was drowning in pussy or enduring Sahara desert-levels of dick deprivation at his big age? It sure as fuck wasn’t your business to care, and nothing about Joel Miller had ever intrigued you consistently enough to venture an inquiry about his personal life before, so…

“Why?”

Joel was looming overhead again, the force of his presence like a fist through your chest. In an effort to steady your breaths, you turned your gaze away from his.

“I should go.” You couldn’t have dodged his last question more clumsily, or pathetically, if you’d tried, “It’s…late.”

Outside, the midday sun was still high in the sky, and there was nowhere in the world you had to be, Joel knew.

“Okay,” he said at length.

Then he leaned in closer and held something out.

“At least take one for the road, alright?”

And he was smiling, almost kind.

You looked down and—shit.

There it was, clear as day: a creamy piña colada popsicle.

The sneaky, conceited motherfucker had remembered what you’d written in his dating profile. You winced.

You accepted the cocktail popsicle without a word.

‘Thanks’ or ‘You’re a fucking pig, Miller’ likely would’ve sufficed for a farewell on any account, but by then, you were far too shell-shocked—and frankly, incredulous—of everything that had just transpired over the course of the last thirty minutes. You didn’t thank Mr. Miller, nor insult him by likening him to swine or any other thing; you left.

Your feet carried you fast out of his house.

Down the steps of his back porch, across pristine, power-washed concrete, past seemingly endless beds of hibiscus blossoms, marigolds, cape plumbago, and those god-awful periwinkle plants—who the fuck enjoyed gardening in a heatwave, anyway?—you practically sprinted away in a fugue state until the toes of your shoes hit the edge of your lawn, then you stopped.

“FUCK!”

You’d forgotten your phone.

It felt as though your body were turning in slow motion, and for a second, you seriously considered abandoning the device altogether and begging your dad for another. Then you set your sights on the wide, uninviting exterior of the back of your neighbor’s house, the place you’d just been hauling ass to escape, and almost rolled your eyes.

Joel was leaning back against the frame of his open back door, arms crossed, expression smug as he watched you.

It was extraordinarily difficult to throw a half-decent punch at a man while wielding a popsicle in your hand.

“Give it back!” you barked.

“Give what back?” Joel grinned, easily side-stepping what struck him as neither a punch nor a slap—in fact, the hit never struck him at all. He laughed as it missed.

“You know what.”

Of course, you’d gone back. Of course, Joel had tried to play dumb and pretend like you’d never left your phone behind at all. And of course, he hadn’t budged until you’d threatened to shove your left foot so far up his ass his dentist would be picking toes out of his teeth for weeks.

‘Violent little thing, ain’t ya?’ Joel had replied, chuckling.

Then, when he’d attempted to brush you aside with a patronizing wave of his hand and an admonition to run on back to daddy and quit buggin’ me, all bets were off. You’d aimed right for center mass and nearly dropped your frozen treat with how hard you’d shoved his chest.

That was how the conversation had started.

That was how the so-called ‘altercation’ had come to be—Joel easily swatting you off and indulging you no further than to chuckle and laugh and taunt you like an older brother who was faced with a sibling half his size—and all the while, your injured hand was throbbing again. White, sticky rivers of melted popsicle now trickled down your wrist instead of blood, and you were just as pissed.

“Listen—” Joel began, catching a fist meant for his face.

“Gimme my fuckin’ phone, Miller!”

“—you—”

“Can go to hell.”

“—owe me.”

“Owe you?!”

You stopped. Your weak, one-handed assault was halted just long enough to peer into Joel’s eyes, and the gaze that met yours was solid. Sincere as you’d ever seen it and blinking slow as the chocolate browns of his irises moved lower over you. Whether they were drinking you in, sizing you up, or merely plotting your demise by calculated turns, you could have been no more certain, or prepared to hear, what came out of his mouth next:

“Wanted to do me a favor, didn’t ya? C’mere.”

And the next thing you knew—or felt—was one thick finger hooking into your belt loops. One swift tug in his direction, another light push toward the old wood railing to your side, and then more fingers crowding in, crawling over, seizing the coarse denim material and pulling hard like the thing was the single most annoying impediment.

“Take these off,” Joel grunted.

You were too stunned to move. Even breathing felt like a chore, every last sense elevated to impossible heights, it wasn’t surprising at all when Joel just went and did it all himself. In a blink, your shorts were yanked down and then dropped to your ankles, your legs guided backward in shuffled steps, and then, nearly tripping in the fabric at your feet, you fell back, ass smacking the flat railing. You winced at the warm, knotty texture of the cedar beneath you and, out of habit, shot the old man a look.

Joel cocked a brow in response, likely already knowing what that glare from you was intended to convey, and instead of giving voice to any words himself, just sank.

Lower and lower and lower, until his knees were the only things holding him upright on the floor before you and his hands were pressing—melting—into your thighs.

Audibly, his kneecaps cracked.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

While Mr. Miller’s mouth moved dangerously close to a place you should’ve been appalled to see him go, all you felt capable of doing in that absurd moment, it seemed, was laugh. You gripped the thick white column beside you, scooted back slightly until you were in a comfier seated position, then snagged your lower lip between your teeth to contain the sound, but it was of no use.

Joel was both drooling and scowling between your legs.

“That funny, huh?” he managed in a low, ragged breath, “Sound’a some crackin’ joints on a man as old as me?”

“Yeah,” you said. Smug, for once.

Admittedly, any other normal person in your position would’ve been concerned with about a million different, more pressing issues—namely, your neighbor and dad’s best friend sticking his face between your legs—but really, after all the frivolity, commotion, and fucking insane behavior the two of you that day, it was like your brain had logged off and left the body to its own devices.

You didn’t mind that for right now.

When Joel’s tongue grazed the space between the cusp of your panties and inner thigh, you really didn’t mind.

Fuck it. If this was the favor he’d wanted after all, so be it.

As if reconsidering the foray of his mouth for the time being, Joel tilted back a little: just far enough to get his hands on your underwear and start tearing those down your hips too. One short, hot puff of air from his lips was a bliss unto itself, and your knees instinctively kicked up. With the thin white fabric barely halfway down one calf, you hooked your ankle over Joel’s shoulder and cursed.

“My daddy’s gonna kill you for this, Mr. Miller.”

And, for what felt like the thousandth time, Joel smiled.

Bigger this time, as if to show he didn’t really care at all what the man next door was liable to say or do about his present endeavor as long as he got to stay. You let him.

He pressed a kiss to your slick, puffy lips and hummed.

“Fine by me.”

Without another word the tip of the man’s tongue glided up the length of your slit and curled in, drawing your arousal between his lips in a hungry sort of kiss, and then sank even deeper. Going nose-deep in just one go, the old man looked positively obscene burying his face so far inside; his features alone a cruel, unseemly sort of fixture between legs as smooth and supple and warm as yours—how did a man so many years your senior get to be so lucky?—and somewhere further, in the darkest recesses of your mind, the sight sparked desire. A hunger, really.

Seeing that silver, stubbled chin getting drenched in your wetness, the weathered lines of his face growing even deeper with each new movement of his tongue, the strain in his neck with muscles that were firm and taut and so visibly aged with decades and decades of life—

You adored it.

A man Joel’s age never looked more out of place and still somehow perfectly fit for the space between your thighs.

You lowered the hand that was cradling your popsicle, braced your weight against the railing with the other, and then pressed on either side of his skull with your legs, quiet moans tumbling one after the next off your tongue.

“‘S’all for me?” Joel breathed, licking and suckling kisses along your clit, “This sweet, needy pussy’s all mine?”

“All yours.”

You scarcely recognized the sound of your own voice. Your legs were shaking. Though you loved to see him make you come undone, piece-by-piece, you also couldn’t bring yourself to stare a second longer, stimulation too great and his tongue too good.

If he kept going at a rate like this, you’d have no choice but to cum, and you didn’t want to be done just yet. Or ever. You refocused your gaze to look down and tell him as much, when your mouth fell open around a gasp, rather than words, and the weight in your hand fell away.

Swiftly, Joel took the popsicle in his own grasp and slid it down to the vicinity of his lips and tongue, now grinning.

The thing was half-melted by now, having sufficiently soaked half your forearm and leaving a vague, sugary aroma in its wake, but it was still intact. Still unlicked—unlike you—and still perfectly cool and light and long. The off-white hue was almost taunting in the way it winked and caught rays of the sunlight shining behind you, and as the man slid it even lower, you jumped back.

“Joel,” you hissed.

“What?” he hummed.

“That’s not—” You blinked, swallowing a moan.

“Not what?”

One warm, callused hand pressed the tip of the frozen thing to your bundle of nerves—the first contact it had had since Joel’s tongue—and you let out a low whine.

Even after all that time in the sun, the popsicle seared your soft, wet, aching parts with a biting cold you’d never thought possible. It sent waves of a strange, trembling pleasure coursing through your lower half and left your head with no choice but to moan. And fist Joel’s hair in a vice-like grip when he angled the wooden stick lower.

Suddenly, the white, sticky head slipped from your clit to the rim of your yet-untouched entrance, and that made your muscles leap to attention once again. You cursed.

“Not what, honey?” Joel pressed, with affection—and as he did, sank the tip of the popsicle deeper inside you.

“Th— that’s not—” You were shaking your head, racking your brain for any trace of the English language and failing miserably, “Not…doesn’t…g-go there, fuck.”

Joel sank the pretty, dribbling popsicle another inch inside your pussy and sucked a whistle through his teeth. If your senses weren’t as raw and utterly shot as they were, you likely would’ve seen the expression on his face transform from one of pleasure and amusement to awe, eyes darkening at the sight of your hole opening wider.

“That’s it, baby, take it,” he cooed, voice low.

Another couple soft utterances of ‘Joel,’ and your legs only parted wider. Free to grip his hair, the railing, the column beside you, or just the insides of your own palm as the icy sensation sank inwards and into your body, you whimpered. Your hips, instinctively, bucked toward the source, and you heard Joel’s groan join your sounds.

He withdrew his new toy just far enough to make you mewl for him again, then drove it deeper. With the friction of that, a stream of white went trickling out.

Joel couldn’t help himself; he flattened his tongue against the stream and licked you clean from the spot where he’d split you open to the cusp of your clit. He circled that place over and over, worked the object in his hand even further inside and back out again, then, getting a taste of your arousal with the white, wet, sticky-sweet juices starting to mix together, he moaned.

It was a guttural sound, something just shy of the ‘feral’ demarcation but at least ten steps ahead of desperate. You relished the gruff, throaty sound reverberating from his lips to your cunt, the way your walls fluttered around it and for him, and were just about to throw your head back and grind your hips even harder when it stopped.

Joel stopped. He started to get up.

Quickly for him, but slow as molasses from your point of view, the man straightened from his place on the hard wooden floor and expelled a breath. His chest heaved, and his torso twisted to one side, momentarily, to get the strain out of his back as best he could. From where you sat, the spattering of grey in his beard seemed to glisten even brighter with the sheen of your arousal now sticking in it. He wiped his chin and reached in between your legs.

“Got any favors left in ya, sweet pea?” he smirked.

Fortunately for you, it didn’t sound like a question at all, and didn’t appear to be intended that way, as the next second had Joel pulling the largely-spent popsicle out of your slick and straight into your mouth. He didn’t inquire whether he could push it down on your tongue and make you taste your own cunt on the thin wooden stick, but the smile on your lips assured him that was fine by you.

Nor did he ask for your permission to flip you around, bend you over his porch railing, and take your hips in his hands. You were still sucking down the last traces of sugar and citrus and a vaguely tangy taste when you felt the head of something else prod your soft, wet folds.

Much bigger—and warmer—than the thing that had breached you before, Joel nudged at your hole with the tip of his cock, coated the head of it in light, gentle circles, and sucked in a breath. He didn’t have to ask, and you didn’t need to answer; he just parted your walls with the force of one steadying thrust, and the pulse of that sharp, dizzying pleasure was back in an instant.

Shared this time, and manifesting in sounds from you and Joel alike: you gritting the stick between your teeth and managing muffled cries of his name and whatever expletives you could scream, Joel with ragged breaths.

For a man who ostensibly hadn’t fucked since the Clinton administration, he was off to a pretty good start.

Joel gripped your hip even tighter and started to saw his cock in and out of your dripping, pliant hole, his other fist finding purchase in your hair for more leverage. His thrusts were shallow enough at first to get you used to the new stretch, and you could feel him making space in a way no man’s girth ever had before. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined it had come to settle into a mix of guilt, rigid composure, and pussydrunk pleasure.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured behind you. Then, groaning, “Good fuckin’ girl, keep squeezin’ my cock just like that.”

You felt a slap on the ass and the speed of his thrusts pick up in turn. Your mouth fell open in a moan, and the stick on your tongue almost slipped out of place when, shortly, Joel leaned over your body and pulled you back. He snagged the popsicle stick between his teeth just in time to get your back flush with his front—in perfect position to get fucked against the nearest column.

Breaths coming out in short, ragged grunts in your ear, Joel teased the side of your face with the stick, then nudged it back in your mouth. You sucked it softly.

“One more favor, baby?” he panted against your cheek.

You nodded, not knowing what it was but that you wanted to be the one giving it. Joel pulsed inside you.

With every stab of his cock, every string of your wet, messy, combined arousals making the most profane noises imaginable between your body and his, you were squeezing him tighter and teetering on release. Joel’s hand snaked down between your legs, and just as the head of his cock nudged against that spot, you keened.

“Any favor?” Joel groaned and nipped at your earlobe.

The heft of his stomach and chest made for a warm, sturdy place to start rocking your hips, greying peach fuzz at the base of his belly a small comfort as you writhed against his body and whined that you’d do anything, anything he wanted, as long as he let you cum.

Joel’s middle finger found your clit, and you nearly screamed at the welt of pleasure coming to a head. Again, the popsicle stick tumbled out, but neither one of you could be bothered to try and keep it in this time.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

The man behind you didn’t even attempt to conceal his grin as he leaned closer, hugging your body to his while he circled your clit and fucked you harder, lips straying every now and then to press a kiss on your shoulder. He plunged his cock deeper and was met with a squeezing, leaking mess trickling down his length and onto his balls, growing louder with each new wet slap against your ass. The old man was a tease, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

“Wanna fill you up,” Joel groaned.

“Cum inside?” you murmured.

You were barely able to tilt your chin to him, but when you did, he held it—made you look him in the eyes and, for once, give your unequivocal permission to do it then.

And you did.

You were startled to find Joel’s lips crashing against yours in the next second, mouth overwhelmed with the remains of your own taste, his tongue, and a series of relentless, hammering thrusts. It was only a matter of moments, then, before your resolve gave way and his followed suit, and the waves of pleasure between you both manifested in ropes of sticky, hot cum painting your walls. Joel held you closer, as though needing to feel his seed as he fucked you through it, groaning when he felt it start to move with each sharp, stuttered thrust.

You panted in his mouth coming down. You kissed him back. You almost couldn’t believe the sensation between your legs, soon to come dripping out and undoubtedly bound to make a mess all over the floor of Joel’s porch.

Equally unbelievable was the fact that you’d just fucked your neighbor in broad daylight, outside, with Marlene’s house directly to your left and your own on the right.

You stared out at the sprawling expanse in front of you—Joel’s impeccably kempt yard, one of the reasons why you were standing where you were just then—and, as you’d found yourself before, you felt the urge to laugh.

Not on account of Joel’s old, ailing knees, this time.

Clearly, the man still trying to catch his breath behind you suspected that that might’ve been the case, though, because you felt him shift his weight and grunt, lightly.

“What’s so funny? My knees crack when I cum, too?”

You could feel the smallest of scowls start to take shape, muted momentarily with kisses that he pressed on your cheek, and others, still more teasing, down your neck.

You let him, unfazed and still giggling. Then pointing.

It seemed Joel was loath to detach his lips from your neck—or his cock from the place he’d just stuffed full—but when you lifted your finger to indicate a direction toward the side of his backyard, his senses perked up.

There, along the white picket fence between his yard and Marlene’s, was the furry, merciless, lawn-destroying labradoodle that had been plaguing Joel’s life for years.

The man was out of you in an instant. He yanked his jeans up even quicker, tucking his dick back, clumsily, into its place in a fit of rage, then cupping his hands:

“WILL YOU FUCK THE HELL OFF, SPARKY?!”

#REMEMBER - JUST BECAUSE JOEL PUTS A POPSICLE IN YOUR P*SSY DOES NOT MEAN YOU SHOULD DO THE SAME IRL!!!! I’M SO SERIOUS #PLEASE PROTECT YOUR PH AND DON’T PUT SWEETS DOWN THERE LMAOAKSK #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou

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band--psycho · 2 months ago

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Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

L&DS Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time.

You two didn’t get along.

Sylus knew this.

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip.

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious.

You were planning something.

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions.

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed.

But it wasn’t.

There were no stray feathers.

No shards of metal.

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you.

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it.

And instead of his home being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent.

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall.

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends.

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling.

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes.

He needed answers.

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention.

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you.

You changed him.

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence.

Everything.

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you.

Needed to see you.

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that.

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume.

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully.

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling.

Jealousy however was.

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto.

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends?

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd.

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked.

Mephisto though was different.

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken.

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up.

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him.

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making.

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions.

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him.

He was becoming as infuriating as you were.

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in.

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you.

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts.

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed.

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him.

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips.

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way.

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto.

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips.

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together.

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus.

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers.

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him.

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment.

You already knew why.

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you.

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear.

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear.

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you.

“Thought you two didn’t get along?” He asked quietly.

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another.

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan.

A plan to make Sylus jealous.

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him.

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart.

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question.

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you.

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips.

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss.

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly.

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

#sylus x reader #sylus imagines #sylus imagine #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #lnds sylus #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace imagine #l&ds imagines

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hanasnx · 10 months ago

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MINORS DNI 18+

“You did what?” HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN questions in amused disbelief, picking himself up off the bed a centimeter when his abdomen flexed from his powerful scoff.

Nestled into his side, a thick arm wound around you, you’re playfully incredulous when you animate inquiring gestures at him, frowning over his obvious skepticism. “Why would I lie about that?”

“No, baby, it’s not that you would lie, I just-“ He squeezes you tighter, and jostles you gently. Once he glances at your pout, he softens his delivery, “I’m saying, it’s hard to wrap my head around. I never thought that a fan could… you know,” he trails off, gesticulating vaguely to finish his sentence by drawing attention to your naked and tangled bodies underneath the covers.

You squeak a noise of offense, sitting up and out of his embrace clutching the sheets to your bare chest. He doesn’t deserve to see them right now. “Oh, my god.” you exclaim, and when you swing your legs out to land your feet on the cold floor, you draw the sheet with you.

“Now wait, c’mon, I didn’t mean that. Come back, you’re taking the warm with you.” he scrambles to find an excuse to keep you close, but you’re already walking away as he’s reaching for you.

“I’m going to find the picture. I know I have it somewhere.” you insist, more to yourself than him as he settles back into bed. The way your hips sway catch the thin material between your ass, and he rolls his tongue between his lips as he watches. You bend down over a box next to your bedroom desk, sifting through its contents hastily until you move onto the next one. Hayden adjusts in his seat, picking at his halfie that’s perking up at the memory of what you look like under that sheet, underneath him. “Ugh, it was right here!”

“If you don’t have it, sweetheart, don’t worry, I believe you. Come back to bed,” he coaxes, eyes hooded as he keeps them glued to you. You reach behind you, wagging a shaming finger at him to which he chuckles at.

“No, no. I’ll find it.” you scold him for his attempts to derail you from your quest, striding to the other side to check a drawer. “Ah-ha!” you interject victoriously, smug in your success as you flick the photo out of its place.

“Is that it?” he asks, craning his neck to see past you, but he sounds nonchalant, as if he’s still skeptical of your claim.

“You are gonna eat those fuckin’ words, baby,” you muse as you march right back to him, the paper flipping in air from your rush. “Take a look at this.”

You shove the photo into his view, and gingerly he takes it, his thumb at the very edge of the white line so as to not soil the quality with his fingerprints. Quietly, he observes it through the bottoms of his eyes, tipping his head back, demonstrating his aging sight as he takes a gander at it much like an old man might. Uneasily, you glance between them. “Oh.” he finally says with knowing. “You changed your hair.” he notes, tilting his head at the picture of you and him. Years ago, you’d gone to a con with the sole purpose of meeting Hayden to take a photo with him. The day you bought that photo op ticket was one of your happiest, replaced as soon as you first laid eyes on him in that booth.

“See? You believe me now.” you tell him cockily, popping your hip out.

“I remember you.” he muses in a tune, scratching at the scruff off his cheek with a pensive parted smile. “You had the cutest little ass—“

Promptly, you go to pluck the picture from his grasp. “Okay, that’s enough.” but he’s much too quick for you, jerking it away to continue ogling it.

Keeping it from you, his voice raises in volume and glee as you continue to fail to retrieve it from him. “No, no, it’s coming back to me. You tripped on the way in. Sweet little thing. Couldn’t even say anything to me, you were so nervous. Held eye contact like a champ though,”

You reach fully over him, stretching out over his lap as you struggle to grab it from him. “Hayden! Give it back!”

“Your little hand was shaking when you offered it to me. Asking for that pose. Still the same naughty girl.”

#1k #indy: drabbles #ch: hayden #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem reader #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x y/n #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen fanfic #hayden christensen fanfiction #reader insert

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avocado-writing · 4 months ago

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i'm not a very big chain person, but in my head i can picture so perfectly Logan getting him and his s/o a matching pair of chain necklaces or bracelets to quietly express his love and commitment. because, in comparison to other forms of jewelry, chains are durable- it's hard for a quality chain to break. to him, they signify how the bond you've fostered together is unbreakable too.

if he manages to get them in adamantium, there's the added layer of gifting you something made of the same material as his skeleton. his way of gifting you a part of him, of always being with you... ;-;

He used to wake up to a pounding skull and a truly bitter hatred of the world. A constant stream of alcohol had managed to silence the first issue - or, at least, make it tomorrow Logan’s problem - but had just made the second one far worse.

He knew he was a mean drunk. Wade never shied away from letting him know what a cunt he was when he was ten drinks deep, but it was easier to face life when he stopped trying to be gracious to it.

The world had never cared about him, so why should he care about it right back?

That was… before, though. Before you. Not exactly some sort of holy light but you’d been damn well close. Someone he’d wanted to get his act together for, try to break free from the cocoon of rot and misery he’d made for himself.

So, nowadays, he wakes up to soft singing and the smell of frying eggs.

You’re an earlier riser than he is, slipping out of his grasp somehow - he always tries to grab you and keep you in bed with him, despite your dramatic but insincere protests - and getting a start on your day to make the most of it. You’re so much more of a functional person than he is that it’s laughable (Wade has pointed this out a couple of times, while laughing, and you’d talked him down from giving the merc a claw through the eye).

He drags himself to his feet and heads into the kitchen.

The radio is on quietly and you’re half-humming along with it, trying not to be too loud so as not to wake him. You can’t help but sing and secretly it’s one of those little things he fucking loves about you. It’s how he can tell you’re happy, so he never wants you to stop.

You hear him appear and turn with a smile so bright it outdoes the morning sun. Ahh fuck, and you look amazing. Those short pyjamas that highlight the curve of your ass, those stupid fuzzy slippers you constantly leave around the apartment for him to trip over…

… and there, around your neck and resting on your clavicle, the chain.

He’d never been good at gifts, but he knew he wanted a way to match you. Something to look at in his own reflection to remember you’re waiting for him at home; a part of him to carry with you so you know he’ll always keep you safe. Your eyes had lit up when you’d opened the jewellery case he’d handed over, neatly wrapped by the store, and then welled with tears when he’d shown you his own one. With blunt, uncareful fingers he’d fastened the clasp at the back of your neck, breathing in the comforting smell of you when you’d wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Logan.”

He’s more lucky to have you. You shine in the sun and so does every adamantium link. A fucking beacon in this world for him. A lighthouse. Bringing him home.

“Hey, baby. Sorry, did I wake you up?” you ask, turning the music off now he has your full attention. He considers this and smirks.

“Mmm, if I say yeah, do you have to find a way to apologise?”

You grin at the huskiness of his early morning voice and the promise of what’s next, turning off the heat on the pan before inevitably forgetting and burning the eggs. As you step into his arms he knows what the rest of the morning will entail: he’ll take you back to bed and show you how much you mean to him, three or four times if he can coax it out of you, then you’ll head to the diner across the street to eat because you’ll be too boneless to do much of anything else.

Sounds pretty fucking perfect to him. His mind flashes to the ring he has in its little box, the one he bought at the same time as the chains and keeps stuffed in one of his jacket pockets, and is sure one day soon he’ll have the courage to give that to you too.

Taglist: @mildly-salted @belilwen @malfoys-demigod @falsewordz @tvwebs @getmeoutofhell @rush-the-stars @s1eep-o @yrthr @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @childeslegstrap

#my writing #james logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #wolverine fanfiction #mcu fandom #lovely gif by asgardswinter!!

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leftneb · 1 month ago

Text

There is Something Seriously Wrong with this Logo..... Chapter Two

So. Lots of you have seen this post by my dear partner ( @lailau7904 ) in which the Williams F1 design team get absolutely torn to bits. In the case you haven't read it yet I highly recommend you do because a) it's really fucking funny and b) it makes what I'm about to tell you even funnier. Though you don't have to, this post touches on entirely different things still regarding this one goddamn logo.

The original post starts like this:

Innocent enough, we made an assumption in good faith that the logo displayed on the Wikipedia page would be the same one as the official version used by Williams. Buckle the fuck up because I'm about to tell you why that was the worst mistake we could have made.

Please. Please I beg of you keep reading this took YEARS off our lifespans. Like the original post was fun and all but it was merely the top of the iceberg. If this were an hbomberguy video this would be the part where he reveals that the background was a greenscreen the whole time. More below the cut!!! :333

The Truth

Already after only a few hours after hitting "post" on the dissection, people started pointing out to us that we'd missed an absolutely crucial detail on the Wikimedia page we got the logo from, pay careful attention:

See THIS?

Yeah this means that that image is not, and never was, the official logo of Williams. All along it had been the work of a Wikipedia user by the name of Juanchocarbonero. Here you can even see the (admittedly painful) history of the file as provided by Wikimedia, this image was uploaded all the way back in 2016, it even underwent an update when the team changed their colour scheme to a lighter blue without getting fucking fixed.

But to me the absolutely most painful part about this page is the "File Usage" section. Which gives you a quick preview of just how deep the goddamn disease that is this piece of graphic design sin really spreads.

And just to clarify: the official version of the logo used by Williams on merch etc is perfectly fine. It's a nice piece of graphic design. I still quite like it. But the story doesn't end there. Not even close.

Consequences

When you look up "williams logo" on Google the image provided by Wikimedia the very first result that pops up, if you're looking for a high-quality .png of this logo that, logically, is what you'll end up using. And I mean, why wouldn't you? What reason do you have not to use it? As long as you don't look to close (oops) it's a perfectly fine, high-definition, clean and transparent image of the logo! No shit people are going to use it!

But this raises a question: Why IS it the most widespread version of the logo? That's fucking weird isn't it? Surely if the actual logo used on ex.: the official Williams F1 website (which, again, is perfectly fucking fine) was available they would've just used that, right?

Now. Small problem. If you want you can go ahead and open whatever search engine you use, if you do that I'm gonna need you to type in "Williams logo" into the search bar, and just try finding a picture that is

of the actual official logo (you can tell the bootleg from the real thing by checking if the middle segment of the W has spiky ends or flat ones. We're looking for flat ones here)

high quality (no pixels or blurring visible to the naked eye)

a transparent png (none of that chequered background bullshit)

NOT a logo with any words (such as: Williams or Racing) visible in it. those don't count.

If you didn't feel like doing any of that, I'll just tell you the answer: you fucking can't. Nothing like that EXISTS. The closest I could get are these two, both of which are mid to ass quality, so they don't count either.

No sensible individual is going to scroll google search results for 5 minutes straight just so they can use a 200x200 image, especially when they think a perfect alternative is right there.

I even found several recoloured versions of the diseased logo, including one as a sticker on Redbubble! Fuck me that's a horrible sight!

The Search

Because I wrote the previous paragrahps after we'd figured out exactly what had happened, you might be under the impression that by this point in trying to answer the question "Why the fuck is that image on Wikipedia instead of, idk, the real fucking thing?" we'd at least established the existence of said "real Williams F1 logo". You'd be wrong, because for somewhere around 24 hours after we'd made the initial, horrifying discovery of just how fucked the Wikipedia version is, we genuinely could not tell if that was the official logo or not.

The ones displayed on their website weren't at all downloadable or even copyable, a non-ass quality of the damn thing just didn't seem to exist anywhere, so we didn't dare draw any conclusions. And we were still foolishly operating on the assumption that Wikipedia wouldn't just lie to us. (this is why your teachers hate it when you use it a source btw. like this is the ONE time it's actually been reasonable)

So, in the hopes of finding the offical Williams Racing logo, the non-scuffed one because clearly it exists, somewhere, we consulted an expert on Intellectual Property: my mother!

What this "consultation" actually roughly looked like was: we went on a walk and I started rambling about the Situation from Last Night before she cut me off and pulled up the website of the World Intellectual Property Organisation, aka the place they store all the Copyright information of like, everything.

BEHOLD:

(pictured; THE ACTUAL FUCKING LOGO I CANNOT BELIEVE IT'S EXISTED THIS WHOLE TIME)

Link to the actual real official legal document because goddamn this rabbithole just kept getting deeper so I like, have that now.

For refence, here is the official copyrighted version and the Wikimedia file overlayed on top of each other. As you can tell, it's disgusting. It's a poor, eyeballed imitation at best.

The copyrighted logo is horrifically low quality because, guess what, that image also isn't downloadable or copyable from the page. I really really cannot blame Juanchocarbonero for uploading his own version to Wikimedia because there legitimately does not exist a version of this logo that is freely available to the public. Like that goddamn abomiation is all we have. It's the effort that counts I guess.

My mother suggested that a possible reason for this could be avoiding the production of knockoff merch, or at least making it recognisable in case it is sold. Think about it, when your logo Doesn't Exist online, no one can use it without a license! It's kind of genius! I'm also about 99% sure they didn't orchestrate it so, it was good luck I guess?

interlude: How the FUCK does Copyright even work

I did immediately think to myself "we should REALLY fix the wikipedia version, like, stat" because I cannot in good conscience have this information available to me and not do anything with it, for the good of the people. However, this poses an issue: was the logo really not scuffed on purpose? Could it be that that version uploaded to Wikipedia isn't a 1:1 of the official logo because of copyrighting issues? To find out I had to look deeper, by comparing the official, website-available logos of various other F1 teams I came to conclusion that: [........................]

Yeah so I wrote that paragraph before actually checking for refences, but even after probably an hour of trying very hard to make sense of the copyright documents and copyright law in general we could not make sense of any of it. According to my mother (again, the closest we have to an expert, like she actually works with copyright in the context of companies but she's not specifically an IP expert. just to clarify) it's actually a lot worse for Wikipedia to have a falsified version of the Williams logo, than it would be to use the copyrighted version. This is because they're spreading misinformation by pretending that's the actual logo. And yet.

According to the Copyright Tag (the one on the top) in the Licensing section of the Wikimedia page for the thing pretending to be the Williams F1 logo, it's fine to use it because just a bunch of shapes. The thing is however, that it says that for pretty much every F1 team's logo, most of which are sourced straight from the official website. So this doesn't really mean anything tbh. According to our local expert (still my mother) it's fucking confusing. So I've decided to leave that at that.

update October 20th: as far as the Wikimedia pages on copyrighting tell me, uploading the official logo could, potentially, get me into serious legal trouble with Williams because of copyright laws. Which is still confusing because as said, every other team's logo is sitting uncontested on their respective Wikipedia pages. So basically we still don't know.

Okay. Backtrack. We forgot to ask something very important:

HOW?

HOW does one fuck up a perfectly fine logo THAT BAD.

WHY does one make their own scuffed tracejob and HOW does it end up like THAT. Clearly something must have gone horrifically wrong for it to end up like that.

I have a theory as to what might have happened:

It was either drawn or painted by hand, for a physical paintjob it's actually sort of impressively precise, but still objectively fucked. For a while I outright refused to believe that it could have been done in a digital program with the types of mistakes that were made, but you'll see this theory (partially) disproven later on so I retract it for now.

Operating on the assumption that it wasn't done digitally, a likely theory could be one involving a picture of scan of the paintjob. If the picture was taken at an angle or the logo itself was on a curved surface that COULD potentially explain the weird sort of slide everything has to it.

From then the picture might have been inserted into a digital art program, and the area of the logo might have been automatically selected using the magic wand tool, which could explain the weird growth at the top and that odd rounded off corner.

We also drew the conclusion that the file itself had been "tampered with" (aka cropped manually) by a human, because no computer would generate a resolution of 3356x2543 (you can that this is the original resolution on the Wikimedia page)

WAIT HOLD ON IS THAT IT?

The question of how the Fuck this guy managed to mess up the logo, and even more specifically why some edges were fine and some weren't (ant colony looking thing on the top left) bothered us so much that I at one point started just looking up "WIlliams logo" with the results filtered down to pre-2017 in an attempt to find when exactly the messed up logo was created. As if that would be any help.

Now what I definitely didn't expect to find was THIS

ENHANCE

Yes, you're seeing it right, THAT is the original 'Williams logo with the fucked up arm angles and lenghts'. Which PROVES that, contrary to our previous belief, Juancocarbonero was NOT the origin of the mistakes. Instead it was [checks notes] a DeviantArt user by the name of Nerdkid56?

The original DeviantArt post, which as of 9:47pm CET on the 13th of October 2024 I am about 90% sure is the actual first appearanace of the scuffed logo, is from May of 2015, which lines up well with the original upload date of the fucked up logo onto Wikipedia (November 2016). At the time that DeviantArt post was almost the only source for the logo.

And in the case you needed any convincing that those two logos are the same, here they are overlayed. You may notice that it's one shape (excluding the rounded corner which isn't visible at this resolution.)

This discovery is essential to understanding why the current scuffed version is the way it is. You might remember our confusion about the way some edges are fine while some are attempting to leave the image, the whole thing is a weird Frankensteinian amalgamation of vectors and magic wand mistakes. With this knowledge we can now assume that the mistakes happened in 2 layers:

Nerdkid56: likely just eyeballed the proportions. I'd guess he drew one arm before the other and flipped it around without really checking the angles. Also didn't give a shit about whether the arms lined up with the base or not. Legitimately bad design made in a digital program.

Juancocarbonero: why he used the scuffed W logo instead of the normal ones that were also perfectly accessible by 1 goddamn Google search is a mistery. HOW he even got access to it is another question I do not think we'll have answers to. And I've already explained some of the things we think may be responsible for the uneveness and bumps. Point is he fucked it up even more.

My theory for why Juanchocarbonero used the scuffed version instead of any other available picture goes like this: it was the only png he could find. Practically every other search result for "Williams Logo" that predates 2017 is a jpeg or absolute ass quality (sometimes both for good measure) so, despite it's flaws, Nedkid56's trace of it could have been the best option available at the time (the quality is actually very very good since it's a vector image, and I guess our friend Juanchocarbonero doesn't have an eye for design considering he didn't notice uhm, everything that is wrong with that model.)

Conclusion

The only way to right these wrongs is to go back, to the very beggining of this saga. Wikipedia. Williams I'm so sorry for what you've had to endure. I know what I have to do now. When I eventually make a proper vector image of the official logo and upload it to Wikimedia it'll all be over. And I WILL do it (but not rn this has already robbed me of like 3 whole days of my life. soon)

All of this is, admittedly inconsequental, but also absolutely fucking hilarious. Like imagine. you. one single guy, you make ONE mistake in a silly little "tracing this logo" project because you couldn't be arsed to check the angles of a silly little W. And some other guy, who you likely don't even know, over a whole ass year later, takes your flawed piece of design, makes it even worse somehow and uploads it to a site from which your little tiny innocent mistake becomes the most widespread version of a logo used by an actual real company worth over 700 Million US Dollars. HOW. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN. WHY HAS NO ONE FIXED THIS??? IT'S BEEN 9 YEARS

Just to give you a final look on just how widespread this plague is, here are some examples of media the fucked up version of the logo is featured in:

this Mr V's Garage video (the original reason we started this conversation in the first place)

the thumbnails of these two videos by Tommo, this one by FP1Will, and this one by RicksF1Addiction

such an amount of random places. likely fanmerch and fanart, and like, pretty much any place someone wanted to use the logo. it's everywhere. if you've ever had the Williams logo displayed in anything you've made I can guarantee you 99.9% chance you used the fucked version

and late thank you to everyone ( @bumblewyn @mid-nighttiger @vro0m @lemonsgovroom @mikraas @leclerced fucking hell I kept needing to add people to this list because compiling all of this took absurdly long) who pointed out our misconception in the reblogs of the original post and contributed to us actually looking into this further. and sorry to everyone for accidentally spreading misinformation lmao (it's too funny not to have been worth it tho) (ALSO it's not really our fault is it)

and to keep the tradition of ending on a live discord reaction:

#please please consider reblogging this if you read through considering the original post (as funny as it was) was just spreading misinfo #williams slander themselves enough already they don't need us to do that #f1 #formula 1 #williams #williams racing #williams f1 #james vowles #williams formula 1 #f1 analysis #technical #lai core #nebrain #neb50 #neb100 #neb200

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eetherealgoddess · 7 months ago

Note

Can we get another hybird fic?

ꨄOur Pet Humanꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Hybrid Au

❦You’re a human surviving in the world of hybrids❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

❣︎Also, the other bonten members (except mochi) are in this story❣︎

Not fully proofread!

Japanese language is red

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Pet Human

You ignore the filthy fumes sneaking into your nostrils as you use your hands to dig through the piles of trash lying inside the dumpster. You tear open a bag or two as you go, searching for any kind of food you could get your paws on. You ignore the pain forming in your stomach from the lack of nutrients, sweat falling down your forehead as half of your body is hanging inside the compartment. The last meal you consumed was from the company you were transferred to, auctioned off to the highest bidder just for the cycle to repeat.

At the time you were so focused on escaping that you forgot to think about the long term effects like food supply, shelter, clothing, etc. You snatch the half eaten treat and push against the dumpster until you’re on your feet. You shove the delicacy in your mouth quickly before chewing fast, a few crumbs falling from your face. You wipe your mouth using the back of your wrist. You drop your body to the concrete next to the dumpster, pulling your knees under your chin. You lie your arms across as you lean your head over, face resting against your legs.

You reminisce about the time in which you lived normally when humans were at the top of the hierarchy. Hybrids were a recent creation, only having been a result of an experimentation your species studied. By chance, they were able to manipulate the scientists into believing that they would make the perfect pets. Time went on as the hybrids were bought and sold, mostly by the rich. Once there were plenty out of their cages, they took over by force.

Blood was everywhere as chaos filled the streets. One by one families and individuals who owned the species were slaughtered just as the hybrids figured out their own control system, mimicking the humans idea by selling humans to anyone who’d buy depending on the ‘quality.’ As a human, you could be sold as a pet, servant, maid, heat guide, or even food. You could’ve been sold as anything though after you were caught and switched from country to country, you had enough. You didn’t agree with the idea when humans ruled and you definitely don’t agree with how things are now.

You lift your head slightly before eyeing the bruises and cuts that lathered your arms and legs. There is a medium sized tear on your grimy shirt, displaying some of the marks on your torso. You sigh before brainstorming your next move. Pulled out of your head, you hear footsteps coming near. Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You look around swiftly, noticing your lack of escape routes as you use your other arm to tighten the grip around your legs, the feeling of being stuck prominent.

Fuck, why did my stupid ass rest here?

You could only remain stationary as the footsteps grew louder, indicating the close vicinity of the stranger. You make an attempt at making yourself smaller as you scoot closer to the corner where the dumpster and wall meet, your back against the large object as you continue to hold your knees against your chest. You were nervous of the hybrid’s ability to sniff out the prey, hoping that the garbage smell will cover your natural scent.

Your breath hitches as you look straight ahead, the footsteps halting in front of the dumpster, slightly diagonal to where you’re hiding. You hear a low hum before the footsteps return though the sound seems to shrink as a minute passes. You slowly peak from the side of the garbage and eye the figure walking back in the direction they came. You eye his tall torso and broad shoulders, the white leopard printed tail swaying behind him as he slowly strides away, a hand running through his short lilac locks, bringing your attention to the ears that have the same print as his tail.

You release a sigh before turning back into your position, only to release a gasp as sharp blue eyes fill your vision. The pink haired man snatched your arm before you could react, his blonde yet spotted ears falling back as his tail thrashed. His claws pierce your skin which caused a sharp pain to shoot up your arm. He pulls you to eye level as you grimace.

“What do you think you’re doing here, human?” The jaguar says in a language you don’t understand. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you explain, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He stares at you for a moment before a grin reaches his expression. The purple suited man drags you along, following the same path as the leopard from before.

You struggle in his grip as he pulls you along seeming to do no damage as he didn’t release his hold. You gasp as he squeezed your wrist painfully. You pull your other arm back and land a fist on his shoulder before aiming at his head, only for him to dodge it and grab your fist, yanking you to fall on your knees in front of him. He released you before grabbing your chin and pulling you forward as he leaned over.

“Behave.” He states in your language, giving you a stern look. His sharp gaze pierced your soul as you suck your teeth in annoyance.

“Then let me go.” You demand. An eyebrow raised on his face as he smirked.

“We’re gonna fix that mouth of yours.” He released your chin before snatching you by the collar and pulling you along once more. You allow him to act this time, not wanting to push your luck and become his next meal. You’re forced to head towards the large building. Once you enter, your orbs meet with purple.

“Hm. I thought I smelled a pesky little vermin.” A sly grin falls upon the familiar male’s face as he observes you. You glare at his insult, planning a retort though another hybrid beat you to it.

“All I smell is garbage. Is that where you found this thing, Sanzu?” The male standing to the right of the short haired man, his ears and tail matching that of the taller male. Purple bangs hover over his eyes as he gives you a blank stare, his hands hidden inside of his pockets. You eye the matching symbol on his neck and guess that the two purple eyed men must be siblings. He turns his attention to the pink haired jaguar after the last sentence, his tail hanging low, twitching at the end.

“I brought a gift for Mikey.” Sanzu gives a pleased smile as he walks to the elevator, continuing to force you along as the brothers follow along.

“Shouldn’t you give it a bath first? I’m curious to see it all cleaned up.” The taller man leaned his back against the wall of the elevator. You could only switch your gaze back and forth as you couldn’t decipher their conversation, giving up and turning away with your own arms crossed. After the shorter leopard pressed a button, you felt the room move upward.

Once you make it to the correct floor, you all walk off once the elevator doors slide open. The hand on your collar moves to one of your wrists as you’re guided to a door at the end of the hall, stumbling behind the three pigmented men. Just as the two brothers walked in, Sanzu halts before making an entrance, glancing at you before pursing his lips and turning around, walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?” You question in confusion. He ignored you as you were dragged once more down the hall and back to the elevator.

Once you reach a floor higher, you’re forced out of the elevator as you take in the surroundings of what seems to be a common area. Once he reaches the bathroom, he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to sit on the toilet. Just as you were about to question him, he walks out, slamming and locking the door behind him.

After a moment of silence, the lock is turned and a human woman walks in. You watch as she walks to the bathtub, turning the faucet on and setting all the necessities in place.

“H-hey I can bathe myself, you know?” You grasp her attention by tapping her shoulder after you had shot up from your seat. You pause when she turns to look at you with bloodshot eyes.

“P-please, just… j-just allow me to complete my task, Ms.” Her voice trembled as she eyed you with pure terror in her eyes.

You eye her for a moment with bewilderment. You observe the scars and bruises you hadn’t noticed when she first walked in. You know that hybrids are usually terrible when it comes to properly caring for the human species. You snarled as your hands turned to fists. You quietly nod and begin to undress once everything is ready.

She gives you privacy as you climb into the large tub, the suds covering your body as you lean against the back of the surface. Although you wished for a shower, you knew anything was better than wearing the same dirty clothes for any longer.

After the process was over, you were guided to a bedroom. Your eyes widen at the display lying on the bed. A black ruffled collar sat on the comforter as well as a black leash. On closer inspection the collar had a mixture of red and black ruffled lace as well as a red heart hanging as the identification tag.

“No fucking way.” You breathe out. You were upset and angry, not having expected any better from the hybrid species but also missed the sense of freedom you had for a while before getting caught once more. You went through so much just to return being some stupid pet for these abominations.

The woman flinched as you snatched the collar and leash, throwing them to the ground and releasing a few curses. You only stopped when you heard a whimper behind you, thinking you had accidentally scared the fellow human you turn your body around only to be met with an unfamiliar male. Your body jolted in surprise.

The man observes the situation as you return the same gaze, eyeing the tiger tattoo that caught your attention, your eyes moving up to his facial features that consist of a beauty mark right under his eye as well as large golden eyes boring into you. His hair falls down, two blonde strands in front of his face and black locks falling behind, slightly covering the tattoo. You glance at the tiger printed ears at the top of his head. He tsked after waving the woman off and slowly shaking his head, walking towards you, his tail high with a small hook at the end.

“That wasn’t very nice. Don’t you think you should be a little more grateful?” He placed his hands in his pockets as he awaits a response, shifting his gaze to the accessories lying on the floor. He crouched down and grabbed the items, placing them back on the bed.

You couldn’t fully read him. He seems as though he is a laid back guy but considering the reaction the other human had, you knew not to push your luck with your words. You knew it could get you in some trouble.

After silence fills the room, he gently taps his lap as one of his ears that stood up slightly twitched. He gives you a smile as he waits for you to move. You look down where his hand is before glaring at his face. You shook your head. An eyebrow raises as a frown falls on his face, his ears slightly pulled back before returning to their placement.

“What’s your name?” You pause in contemplation before answering.

“Y/n.” He hums as he nods. Suddenly, he seizes your wrist before pulling you on top of him, forcing your knees on each side of his lap as your weight sinks on the bed. You eye him with wide eyes as he gazes up at you, arms snaking around your waist as you're forced in place. Your hands meet his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I don’t want to be mean, Y/n.” He starts off, shifting his attention to the collar and leash before turning back to you. “You see, this kind of behavior is unacceptable.” You hold back a shiver as a cold hand places itself under your shirt and on your lower back.

“I’m giving you a chance to take your punishment like the good girl I know you can be.” One of his hands moves to your chin, claws poking your skin. He gives you a closed eye smile before saying, “So don’t test my patience, okay?”

You didn’t know how to respond, not wanting to conform and also not wanting to test this guy’s boundaries. It was at this moment you realized that you have no clue who these hybrids are and what they’re capable of. You gag on the inside as you obey, nodding in response to let him know you’re listening.

“Awe, you’re already being so good for me.” He beamed while caressing your cheek. “How about I let you off with a warning?” You hold back the disgusted look that wanted to fall on your face, thankful that you weren't going to receive whatever he had in store for you.

He grabs the collar before securing it around your neck, as well as hooking the leash. “My name is Kazutora but you’re gonna call me Master anyway. I just want you to know the difference between me and the others.” He pats your thigh before gently pushing you off of him, your feet connecting to the floor.

He pulls you along by the leash, walking to the elevator and entering once the doors opened. After you reach the designated floor, he pulls you down the familiar hall and to the door that the man you remembered to be ‘Sanzu’ hadn’t allowed you to walk into.

Once you enter, you see a long table in the middle of the room, along with six other men sitting at the table. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated when all the sharp gazes shift to you. The aura of the room was suffocating, your instincts kicking in as your body tightened up. You knew just by the look of everyone in the room, you were amongst some of the most dangerous hybrids.

A platinum haired male released a huff, his ears pressed against his head as well as his tail low though twitching at the end. His fingers meet his temple as he rubs along.

“Do you know how much this thing is going to cost to take care of it?” The cheetah hybrid growled, glaring at the pink haired jaguar who smirked in return.

“It’s not like we don’t have enough money, Koko.”

“That’s not the point.” He hissed, fangs bare as his tail slowly thrashed.

“I think it’ll be good having it around” The older Haitani states as he takes a sip of his glass.

“That’s because you only want to fuck it, you don’t have me fooled.” The man with a scar over his eye chuckled, a cigarette hanging outside of the corner of his mouth. You guessed his relation is somehow with the man with scars on his mouth considering the same pattern they have plastered on their ears and tail.

“So what, Takeomi? What else is it good for besides a heat guide?” The younger Haitani questions, one ear flat as the other sticks up as well as his cheek leaning on the palm of his hand. As everyone converses, Kazutora pulls you along to awkwardly stand next to his seat as he sits down at the table.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you think. It’s up to our boss.” The great dane says, a stern look on his face as he sits with a leg crossed over the other. His arms are crossed as he leans against the back of the chair, his black tail still as his ears hang from his head. His heterochromia eyes slanted as a look of irritation crossed his face. Once the boss was mentioned, everyone except you shifted their gaze to the white haired lion that sat at the end of the table.

You had no clue what was going on, having not understood a word though only understanding everyone’s tense body language when you followed their gazes to a short man with dark eyes. He stares ahead as you observe his features, his ears sticking straight up, though from your angle you couldn’t see his tail. Finally, his dark orbs meet yours, catching you off guard and forcing you to look away considering the eye contact.

Before he says anything, the door swings open, revealing a random man who resembles the features of a bear and the human woman you met earlier dragged in by the bicep. You watch with your eyebrows furrowed as he tossed her into the room, her hands stopping her face from meeting the floor followed along with a grunt.

He stood back against the door with his arms crossed as he eyed the situation, awaiting instructions. She trembles against the floor, looking back and forth between the men and you in fear. A look of confusion crossed your face as you watched the display.

“Ran.” The lion says, nodding over to the woman. A smile crossed the tall leopard’s face as his ears and tail perked up.

“Yes, sir.” He says, standing from his seat as an object in his hand is revealed. You eye the silver weapon that seems to get longer after he flicks his wrist.

“N-no, please! I-I’m sorry!” The woman cries out, crawling back as she cowers down. You gasp as the realization clicks on what he’s about to do with the baton.

You make an attempt to run towards her shaking figure, only to be reminded of the collar around your neck as Kazutora yanks your leash back.

“Sit.” He yanks once more, a harsher tug that forces you to fall backwards on your derrière.

“Fuck!” You hiss in pain only for a stinging sensation on your cheek to appear as your head is forced the opposite way. A hand on your chin pulls your face towards his as he leans over in his chair.

“I should hear no bad words coming from that mouth.” He gives you a bored look before returning his gaze to the display. You pant as you look over at the human woman in concern.

“P-please don’t do thi-!” A loud crack echoed throughout the room, followed by another and another along with the woman’s grunts. You stare wide eyed as his arm pulls back before slamming down on the woman’s back. She limps to the ground, barely awake as her body twitches. You watch as blood leaks out of her mouth, oozing on the floor as her head lies down.

He lands another harsh hit to her back using both hands on the handle before landing another once more. Your own hands shake as they reach your ears once you shut your eyes tightly. You hope that it’ll be over soon, though you don’t know if she’ll survive. With a last resounding crack, the purple eyed man finally stops his assault and steps back. He flips the body using his foot though she only fell back into place, the side of her face against the floor as her stomach is attached to the ground.

Just as you opened your eyes and removed your hands, you gaze at her lifeless form. A looming darkness hovers over you as your stomach feels itself drop, bringing your knees to your chest as a few tears begin to fall. Your lip quivers as you observe her still body.

To think that I saw her only just a while ago alive and walking.

Footsteps could be heard in the quiet room, the lion stepping forth and halting when he stood next to the corpse. He crouched down, grabbing the collar of her shirt and standing up, her body hanging from his hold. The platinum haired male shifted his gaze to you.

“Let this be a lesson, Y/n.” You glared when he dropped the body and walked to his seat.

“Dismissed.”

You stared at the bowl sitting on the floor from where you sat in the dining room of their shared penthouse. It was supposed to be a full human meal but resembled the containers of wet food you’d get for your regular cats you had before the take over. This was a common way for hybrids to feed their humans. It depends on the owner whether or not you’re allowed to eat with your hands.

“Why are you not eating, Y/n?” Ran questions from where he sits on the chair next to you. Looking up at him and back to the bowl, you frowned.

“I can’t eat like this.” In fact, you never had to before. When you were with the initial abductors they would just throw a bowl in the cages but wouldn’t stay to watch so you’d just eat with your hands like a normal human.

“You’re lucky to be fed at all.” Rin rolled his eyes as he grabbed your bowl.

Ran tsked before leaning over, catching you off guard and pulling your body onto his lap. Rin passed the bowl to his brother and leaned back in his seat, using a lighter to burn the end of a blunt before setting it to his mouth.

You look at Ran with wide eyes as you shift uncomfortably on his lap. His chest rumbled from his deep chuckle.

“Don’t be so rude, brother. The kitty only wanted to be fed.” Your face heats up in embarrassment.

“That’s far from what I wanted!” A harsh smack on your thigh caused you to wince.

“Do we need to buy a muzzle for it?” Rin questioned as he pulls another hit before blowing the smoke out in your direction.

“That wouldn’t be a terrible idea.” Ran says as he uses chopsticks to pick up a piece of your food, bringing it to your lips.You hesitate out of pride, turning your head in the process as you couldn’t shake the feeling of humiliation.

“Should I use my baton?” Ran questions you. The memory of what the woman went through earlier crossed your mind, causing a shiver to slither up your spine before you parted your lips. Bringing his chopsticks to your lips once more, you opened your mouth wider to give better access before closing your lips around the utensil.

It had been a few weeks since you were taken in by Bonten as a pet. You lie still as you eye the ceiling, laying on your designated palette next to Mikey’s bed. Although you were able to adapt, you still couldn’t get used to their unpredictable and violent ways. At least you knew what you were getting when you were at the company before.

The contrast between some of their treatment and punishments were unsettling. Not to mention how demeaning it is to be treated as some animal when only just a few years back you lived a normal life. You look down and eye the fresh marks on your skin, remembering the baton making contact with your dermis as well as Sanzu using his katana. Kazutora usually spanks you and you’d think it wouldn’t be so bad, yet his hand uses so much force that it’s actually quite painful and makes it hard to sit for long periods of time.

Rin finds various ways to discipline you such as forcing you to kneel in rice, popping a joint or two out of place before popping it back, etc. You haven’t angered Mikey yet and fortunately the others leave you be so you don’t see them much at all.

“Y/n.” A voice took you out of your thoughts and caused you to eye the bed. “Come.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the demand. You’ve never been allowed in anyone’s bed up until this point so the command threw you in for a loop. Slowly sitting up, you picked yourself off of the floor and climbed on the bed, your own eyes meeting closed lids before you’re pulled into an embrace.

Your back meets Mikey’s chest as you both lay fetal position, him spooning you. You could only stare wide eyed across from where you lay when you felt a rumble, hearing a pur near your ear as his tail wraps around your thigh. Time passed before you both fell into a deep slumber, creating the unsaid habit as the cycle repeats.

A few months pass and a new human gets hired as one of the staff who are used to clean, cook, and complete the everyday tasks at hand. Because the majority of hybrids you were around, there were very few humans. Having been exhausted with your circumstances, you became a close friend to the new guy, creating a bond that you haven’t felt in a long time. Whenever the ‘masters’ would go on a mission, you’d be left on your lonesome until you would untie yourself from the post and leave your spot.

You would search for your friend, Eiichi until you found him and would help the male clean faster so you both could hang out as normal people, something neither of you had done in a long time. You began to spend so much time together that you would find yourself smiling at nothing whenever he was away, having to explain yourself as a result of your odd behavior, usually coming up with a lie.

You enjoyed each other’s company so much that you decided to brainstorm an escape plan together, ready to escape this world and live off grid. It was wishful thinking but the sooner you left this penthouse, the better. As you both leaned over the counter, caught the other’s eye as you stared for a moment. It had been a while since you had received genuine care from another human being. The gap in between both of you almost came to a close until you were yanked back by the collar of your shirt.

“So dirty.” The jaguar hissed before quickly stabbing Eiichi’s hand against the counter using a dagger. The human male yells out in pain as you’re grabbed by the neck and lifted from the floor. Rin’s eyes narrow as a smile appears on his face along with his ears flat against his head. His tail thrashes around violently.

“I just needed an excuse to go harder on you.” He says as you struggle to unwrap the fingers that are blocking your airway. Your feet dangle in the air as you hear another blood curdling shriek from Eiichi as Sanzu twists the weapon in the wound while glaring at the weaker man.

“Who said you can touch what belongs to Bonten, you fucking rat?” Sanzu growled before his claws protruded, pulling his arm back and slicing through Eiichi’s back.

Eiichi released a howl of agony as he leaned over the counter, his other fist connecting to the surface as his own nails dug into the palm of his trembling hand. Tears stream down his face as he looks up in your direction.

“L-let her go!” He grunts, his head hovering over his bloody hand. You struggle harder and you lose more air, your vision blurring out gradually as your body weakens.

“Since when did you call the shots?” Rin questions before he walks to where he’s standing across from Eiichi in a closer space. He released your neck, allowing you to drop. He snatches your waist before you could fully fall on the ground, coughing and chasing your breath. He eyes Eiichi before grabbing your chin harshly and forcing your lips to meet his. Your eyes widen as Rin’s other hand wraps around your bruised neck once more though to pull you into the kiss closer.

Once he was finished roughly kissing your lips, he moved the hand on your neck to the back of your head and wrapped the other arm around your waist, moving his head down your neck as you quietly pant while avoiding eye contact with the other men. You would’ve bit him if it wasn’t risking your life. His lips leave a tingling sensation to linger on each spot of your skin his mouth assaults. He stares Eiichi in the eyes the entire time, who could only stare back in agony and anger.

“See that?” Sanzu whispers near Eiichi’s ear. “See how she's taking it?”

When the human didn’t respond, Sanzu twisted the dagger once more before snatching it out, causing a drawn out grunt to leave Eiichi’s lips. You try to pull back but Rin’s hold was painfully tight.

“Answer me.” He hissed, his ears falling back as his tail mocked Rin’s thrashing. Eiichi nods violently, followed by a desperate, “Yes!”

“What’s going on here?” A voice came from the elevator, Ran walking in as well as Kazutora walking behind with their ears perked up. They had on amused expressions, staring at the display as they walked towards the busy executives.

“Tell em.” Rin demands looking into your eyes while your noses almost meet, pulling you back just enough to shift your gaze to the tiger and leopard.

“W-we were gonna kiss.” You say softly, nervous of the reactions considering how the first two executives responded. Kazutora sighs as Ran walks to the other side of you, opposite of his brother.

“Awe, kitty if you just wanted a kiss why didn’t you say so?” He cooed before leaning over and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I thought you were a good girl, Y/n.” Kazutora frowns before crossing his arms and walking around the counter to where Eiichi is leaning over.

He uses one hand to grip the back of Eiichi’s collar before pulling his arm back and landing a bone crunching punch on his face, causing the poor human to fall over on the floor, blood splattering everywhere. You gasp as you yell his name before Ran wraps a hand half way under your chin and neck and forces you to look up, your head resting on his chest as he looks down at you.

“All you have to do is ask, Y/n. I don’t mind being the human touch you need.” He chuckled as Sanzu and Kazutora took turns beating and kicking Eiichi. A fist connects with his face as a foot connects with his stomach and so on. The floor is a bloody mess as well as the granite counter.

“Stop fucking hurting him!” You push against Rin’s chest as Ran releases your neck. Suddenly the room goes quiet as a new set of footsteps could be heard entering the room.

The lion eases into the room with a blank look on his face, pondering the display as he motions for everyone to follow. Everyone begins to move towards their boss, you turning around to try and check on Eiichi, only to see Kazutora use Sanzu’s dagger to puncture it through Eiichi’s back. You gasp as you try to break free of the Haitani brother’s hold.

“N-no!” You shriek as tears stream down your face, Rin picking you up in the process and throwing you over his shoulder to force you along.

You all walk onto a large bedroom, one that you haven't seen before. Before you could get a good look, you were tossed on the bed. Mikey took his seat on one of the accented sofas across from the bed. Everyone else stood at attention while waiting for instructions. You made poor attempts to prevent yourself from crying considering the only human friend you had just got murdered by your recklessness.

“Since you found her, do what you will.” Your eyes widen at Mikey’s statement. Before you could react, you felt arms wrap around your waist before you’re pulled in between someone’s legs from behind, sliding you against their chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment, Kitty.” Ran whispers before he places kisses against your ear. The rumbling in his chest is evident of a pur causing you to jolt and try to remove his arms, only to get distracted by a force on your chin. Sanzu lowers his face, meeting his lips with yours as he kisses you passionately. His head slightly moves along with his lips as you feel a hand sneaking under your shirt.

Kazutora’s hand slithers up your stomach, using his fingers to caress your healing scars before slowly making his way to one of your breasts, all the while gazing at your face. You feel a squeeze on your thigh by Rin before he slides up to meet your core, only for you to move your legs and close his hand in between your thighs. You yank your head back from Sanzu.

“N-no! Eiichi!” You hear a couple of huffs before Rin tears your legs apart, Kazutora locking one in place with his arm. The older Haitani slides his hand down your thigh before diving into your pants. Sanzu moves a hand to lift your shirt slightly and places his hand on your other breast. You feel a finger sliding against your clit through your panties. It felt so conflicting to be horrified for your own safety, as well as mourning a death all the while feeling a sense of pleasure from the culprits who caused your pain in the first place. You truly didn’t know how to respond besides failing miserably at struggling against their holds.

One of the hands on your breasts disappears just as Sanzu reaches in his pocket. Pulling out a small baggie with a pink pill, he pours it in the palm of his hand before bending over on the nightstand and crushing half of it. He placed one on his tongue before grabbing your chin once more.

“Open up.” He squeezes your cheeks harshly to force your jaw open. He sets the last piece on his tongue before leaning over and connecting the slightly dissolved pill with your own tongue. Tightening his grip, he pulled you forward.

“Swallow it.” He released his tight grasp once you complied. A few minutes pass as they continue their groping, your body feeling the same as before until you begin to feel heavy. You could feel yourself leaning more against Ran as your body falls back.

“There ya go, kitty. Just relax.” His raspy voice purrs along with his finger making slow yet firm circles around your nub. A wet substance slowly oozes out of your vagina as the stimulation causes you to moan quietly. You lean your head back against his chest as sweat beads around the lining of your forehead.

“E-Eiichi…” You whine out as the memories overcome your mind, the drug in your system causing you to feel as though you’re flying through your mind, reliving the moment as tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice as a palm covers your cheek, gently forcing you to make eye contact with Kazutora.

“Focus on me.” He all but whispers before he leans in, latching his mouth to yours as his lips move against yours. Feeling drowsy and drawn in, you return the gesture, lost in a trance and only focusing on him. The softness felt really nice against your own lips, the drug intensifying the motion. His thumb caressed your cheek as a purr rumbled from his chest. His claw lightly grazing your skin caused a shiver throughout your body.

You were so focused on the moment with Kazutora that you hadn’t noticed how Rin pulled your pants off or how Sanzu ripped your shirt and even pulled your arms out of your sleeves. You hadn’t realized that you were bare chested and only covered up with a pair of lace panties Kokonoi bought. It wasn’t until you felt movement against your clit once more, as well as something wet against one of your nipples.

Ran switched to rolling your other nipple between his index and thumb causing a shock throughout your body as you felt the pressure build from Rin intricately using his thumb to rub along your clit through your panties, his other hand spreading your left fold to gain better access, and Sanzu flicking his tongue against your nipple while holding it firmly, closing his lips around to give little sensitive pecks as well as sucking the bud.

It was overwhelming. Focused solely on their touches, you hadn’t heard your own moaning. You felt pathetic, coming undone and vulnerability revealed to all these beasts who treat you as though you're below them. It’s embarrassing. Your high made it all the more worse as you began to get distracted with your thoughts causing a bittersweet feeling to take on considering all the hands on you. The movement on your clit halts as a weight on the bed disappears for a moment.

“I’m going to try something.” Rin says as he walks from the nightstand to the bed, your half lidded gaze eyeing the suction vibrator in his hand once Kazutora released your face. Rin sets the object down before removing your panties, getting into position.

“Kinky.” Ran smirked, licking behind the rim of your ear before Rin pulled your body down slightly.

“Alright, Bunny open wide!” Rin beams with a closed eyed mischievous smile.

Kazutora and Sanzu take it upon themselves to pull your legs open wider. Rin leans into position before he presses the button until it reaches a medium setting. Using his index and thumb, he spreads your labia before setting the circular end around your clit. Your body immediately tensed, your hips lifted as your head fell back. You bite your lip as your hands grip Ran’s thighs.

“Damn, that’s so hot.” Rin breathes out, watching more juice flowing out of your vagina.

Mikey felt a tightness in his pants as he sat manspread while leaned back. His hand slowly slides over his own thigh before he palms his bulge, tightening his grip just enough to add a painless pressure to ease his throbbing erection. The whole display of you sprawled out naked between his men while responding to the sensual acts in such a filthy manner is enticingly sweet to his mesmerized yet tired gaze.

Rin removes the vibrator to allow you a small moment of relief, your breathing hard as you pant, limbs trembling. You watch as he turns the setting higher, shaking your head.

“No, no, no! Wait!” He ignored you and set the buzzing end back around your swollen bud. The buzzing sensation connecting with your clit could only be explained as an electrifying stimulation. It’s so intense that your body freezes as your hips lift once more, your nails digging through the fabric covering Ran’s skin as you grunt. Just as you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, the tiger and jaguar hybrids leaned over and latched their tongues against your nipples.

The drug heightened your sensitivity so you could barely think properly, your hips beginning to grind against the toy causing your clit to rub against the inside of the puckered end harder considering Rin moves the vibrator with your motion, meeting the base of your clit with the end of the opening.

“So fucking filthy.” Sanzu hissed after releasing your nipple.

“My king, can I?” His attention shifts to Mikey, awaiting permission to proceed with his request.

“You and Rin.” Mikey states considering they were the two who found her having escaped the bedroom and almost kissing Eiichi.

Ran and Kazutora groan before they pull themselves away from you. Their cocks are throbbing tight against their pants and they’re ready to feel your warmth engulfing them. It’s frustrating but at least it’ll be their turn at some point tonight.

Your body drops back on the bed as Rin removes the vibrator, edging you before setting it on the nightstand. Sanzu repositions you to where he’s lying under you, positioning his cock to your wet entrance. Lifting his hips, he used his hands to guide your hips down, your pussy slowly engulfing his thick girth, both of you releasing a moan as the head reached the g-spot as your thighs hit the base of his erection. The drug felt like an aphrodisiac, making everything feel ten times more intense though you knew that wasn’t its purpose.

He guides you to buck your hips against him slowly so you could adjust to his size to make everything easier. He pressed a hand against your upper back, pulling you to press your breasts against his chest. His legs spread under you, making space for Rin to crouch above you from behind. He rubbed the lube between his fingers against his cock, having already prepared while you and Sanzu became adjusted. You felt a firm pressure entering you from behind, your eyebrows furrowing as you grunt in pain.

“N-no! Take it out! I-it hurts!” You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you angrily fist Sanzu’s chest.

“Shh. Shhh.” He grabbed the back of your hand and placed it against his neck.

“Squeeze when you feel pain.” Your fingers wrapped snugly around his throat. You hadn’t wanted to comply, but the pain was so uncomfortable that you tighten your grip around his neck with a scrunched nose.

“Fuck.” He moans as a red hue appears on his face, his lips apart as his eyes flutter shut. He bit his lip right before thrusting into you deeper. His blue orbs bore into you with a glimmer in his eyes, his claws piercing the skin on your thighs.

His hips lifting caused a contrast between pleasure and pain. Rin pushes deeper as the pain of your tightness eases for him. He groaned before leaning over more and balancing himself against the bed. His hips move back before they push forward, repeating the process as his cock rubbed against your anal walls, creating a stinging fullness that added to the girthy cock inside of your pussy, rubbing along your vaginal walls as well as firmly kissing your cervix.

Your mouth hung open as your eyes rolled into the back of your head, using your legs to help push against their thrusts. Curses, moans, and whimpers echoed throughout the room as well as the rocking of the bed. The men on the side had their own hand wrapped around their cock, leaking because of the display in front of them.

The smacking of skin increases as they speed upthe pace, forming harsher thrusts as they all bring themselves closer to the edge. You couldn’t focus on anything but feeling full and being surrounded by breathy sounds of pleasure. Your eyebrows furrowed as the pit in your stomach rises, biting your lip as you all rutt harder against each other.

“Shit.” Kazutora hissed as his hand reached the base of his cock before pulling his hand around the head and focusing on the stimulation at the tip of his erection.

Ran’s hair falls on his face from sweat, his head lowered with his mouth parted as he rubs his closed hand against his throbbing length. He repeats the motion at a steady pace before speeding the process. Mikey has one hand flat on the base of his cock while the other one grips his girth, rubbing up and down but in a circular motion at a slower pace.

Finally reaching your peak, you felt the rise fall as your body convulsed, orgasming hard as a loud moan left your mouth. The men follow not long after, their loads releasing as they press themselves deep inside you before riding out their orgasms, moaning near your ears as they breathe heavily.

The men on the sidelines shot ropes as their own bodies tensed, rubbing out their orgasms as they made a mess on their own pants. Curses could be heard throughout the room as they finished up, their cocks re - erecting not long after.

“Y/n.” Mikey says as he pants. “Come clean me up.”

The night continued on as you had orgasm after orgasm from the men taking their turns with your body. The night was heavenly for your fix in the moment, lapping up the attention and pleasure desperately. It wasn’t until your collar was hooked around your neck, followed with a cuff on your ankle that you realized the reality of your placement here. It reminded you of how much of a worthless animal you are to them.

Who knew that one night of passion could turn into multiple nights of you becoming some drugged up sex toy for their own pleasure. Their heats were the worst, becoming so rough with you as if they’re releasing their pent up rage. You couldn’t stop thinking of Eiichi. The way he made you feel normal again and the haunting memory of how he died. You found yourself more and more depressed and eager for a chance of true release.

A year passed and there was a night where you found out about a type of drug from one of the human staff members. It used to be a legal medication specifically made for cat hybrids to consume and become less aggressive and more docile. It also helped them fall asleep faster. Whenever you received the medication, you gave it to the human cook you became friends with who dropped a pill in each of their drinks during dinner before they made it back.

When they consumed the drug, it was quite entertaining. You sat on the couch in the living room instead of the floor while Mikey rubbed his face against your neck as he straddled you, nuzzling against your skin with his ears forward. Sanzu sat beside you sniffing the opposite side of your neck, ears straight up as he licks the skin. You feel Kazutora nuzzling against one of your legs with his arms wrapped around the limb. Ran is knocked out next to you, sleeping in a fetal position with his feet closest to you, tail lying over his own hip. Rin sits with his legs wrapped around your other leg while licking the skin on the back of his hand, grooming himself.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their clinginess though when you realized your reality you began to think that there was nothing funny about this situation. You called one of their oblivious guards, who thought they just took a new drug they had provided themselves, to walk in to help you remove themselves so everyone can go to bed. When the hybrid snake tried to grab your arm, Mikey’s eyes sharpened before he hissed and used his claws to scratch the snake’s face. His tail rattled in response as he hissed in pain, his hands holding his bloody face as you eye the display in bewilderment.

This will definitely make it easier to escape.

Ran woke up from the commotion just as all of the cats bared their fangs ready to attack as their tails thrashed and ears flattened on their heads. Narrowing their eyes they all dash away from their spots, pouncing on the guard as he yells out in pain. You eye the display but don’t bother to help, waiting patiently as they finish though you look away from the disturbing scene and cover your ears. After they slaughter the man to death, they sleepily walk away, walking with you as you guide them to each of their bedrooms.

After all was done, they were knocked out cold from the drug. You gathered a random bag with necessities and threw the collar you had set on the nightstand in a trash can. You climbed out from the back of the first story’s window, beginning the journey to your new life.

The next day came crashing for the men, Sanzu being the first to know of your absence. Chaos reigned throughout the morning meeting as they took their rage out on irrelevant staff members and guards, wreaking havoc on those who let you slip from their radar. The other executives only stared at the display with blank looks as they watched, only thinking about their next move to find you for the sake of their boss’s and fellow executives’ sanity.

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