“Good, you’re so good to me love...yes, love, yes..." August drawled against your ear, his voice a sensual caress.
You lay half-draped across his body, your hair spilling over his chest. He held you close, one strong arm wrapped under your knee, opening you to him completely so he could slide the swollen shaft of his cock inside you. Together, you moved slowly, savoring every moment of your reunion.
You could only whimper as he fucked you with excruciating patience, reaching so deep inside you that you shook with longing. Again and again he teased you. Staying deep, oh so deep. You felt amazing, but you were impatient.
He had returned from his mission and kissed you with savage need, tearing away your clothes. He’d taken you straight to bed, holding you close, keeping you lodged to his cock while he kissed and caressed you endlessly. He seemed determined to drive you mad with longing, nudging deeper inside you while kissing and whispering against your neck. His other hand cradled your body and cupped and fondled your breast, tugging at your oversensitive nipple.
“August, stop that and move, please,” you wiggled desperately but he remained moveless, rooted deep inside you, his fat dick stretching you deliciously.
“Shhh…” He licked across your neck. “I want to savor you.”
You took a quick breath, your fingers grabbing the cotton bedsheets. “Drive me mad you mean—”
Gently, he slapped your clit and you moaned and squeezed his cock tighter. “I’ll give you my load but only after I decide it’s time.”
“You’ve made me come three times already, August come on,” you tried to tempt him by squeezing your pussy walls around him but he didn’t catch the bait.
He smiled, his perfect white teeth flashing. “I have to prolong it, love. If it were possible, I would have this go on forever.” He delved out of your depths only to give a slick thrust that buried him to the hilt inside you.
You groaned, stars floating in your vision.
He devoured your lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. “Forever inside you while you squeeze and drench me with your love.”
He bent down and took a pink nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling it. His mustache chaffed you. You were red all over from his touches. You gasped when he fondled the other breast, nipping at the bud, his huge palm shaping the roundness of it.
“Now be a good girl and come for me,” he said, his hand reaching down to stroke your clit.
One, two, three gentle strokes and you shattered, your whole frame shaking with ecstasy. He kept you anchored to his cock the whole time, not thrusting, kissing your face and whispering how good it felt to be inside you, how perfectly you were squeezing his cock, how precious you were, how beautiful and loved.
“The most glorious woman in the world,“ he said huskily against the shell of your ear, “my woman, coming hard for me, my perfect little love. Feels good?” he asked, his thumb gently delving across the swollen lips of your sex that were stretched over his aching cock.
You nodded fervently, so blissful.
And then he started to move, finally giving you what you wanted.
His hips undulated, snapping repeatedly as he fucked you in earnest. He drew back, watching as he exited your depths, his length covered in your juices, then snapped back inside. He kept a wicked rhythm. Snapping fast and then slowly, giving you steady measured thrusts that made your eyes roll back in your head.
Head relaxing into the crook of his shoulder, you rocked against him. Grunting powerfully, he grabbed under both of your knees, spread them open and pistoned into you. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh and both your moans were only sounds in your bedroom. The scents of salt and sex were thick in the air.
He fucked you like a man possessed, his grunts loud and frantic, jolting your body with each pump.
Locking eyes with you, he buried himself balls deep and erupted, spurting rope after rope of cum inside you. His huge body trembled violently, desperate moans leaving him as he kissed you hungrily while rubbing your clit maniacally. Your toes curled, your eyes closing tightly and you climaxed with sobbing cries. You felt his shaft pumping, the veins throbbing as he filled you to the brim.
When the pleasure waned, he was still inside you, softening extremely slowly. Keeping you locked together, he moved your bodies to the side, his arms resting protectively around you. You winced when you felt the telltale tickle of his seed down your ass. Even with him inside you, it was always too much.
Sighing in satisfaction, August drew one hand along the pale curve of your thigh. You arched back into him, reaching for his hand. Your fingers intertwined, his big and rough hand against your small, smooth one. You played with his palm then brought his hand against your mouth, kissing each finger. He sighed your name and you smiled.
“You overdid it today,” you said, looking back at him. His hair was tousled, his lips swollen—not as much as yours, you guessed—but it was pleasing to see him roughened and flushed from your lovemaking.
He kissed you, his tongue tracing the plump fullness of your lips. “I’m sorry. I missed you.”
“Difficult mission?” You asked, your fingers weaving with his. Sometimes he returned home with the weight of the mission pressing heavily on his shoulders, making love to you like a man possessed.
“They threatened to harm you,” August began, his voice strained. “It was an empty threat, I knew it. I knew you were safe but when they threatened to hurt you, it… it broke something inside me. I lost control. I thought of nothing but finishing them off and coming to you.”
Your heart ached for him. August always appeared so hard and unbending, brutal even, but his heart was gentle and fragile.
Slowly, you turned around. His shaft slipped from you, softened now and he made a grimace, missing the feel of you. You cupped his neck and he squeezed you against him, your nipples brushing his chest. You caressed his neck then ghosted your lips over the pulse of his neck.
“That must have been terrifying, my love.” You embraced him, arms and legs wrapping around him, your fingers rubbing small circles to comfort him. “But I’m alright. I’m safe. Always will be.”
“I know…” He buried his face in your neck, smelling your rose-scented hair.
“I worry about you, too,” you mumbled, trailing your fingers over his mustache. “Every time you go out there, I fear for your safety.”
He gazed at you, his eyes misty, vulnerable. “I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll always come back to you. No mission, no enemy will keep me from you.”
“And I’ll always be here, waiting for you,” you kissed him, smiling. “We’ll face these fears together. Okay?”
“Yes ma’am,” he hummed while readjusting himself, lining up against you. In a swift move, he thrust up, his hard cock surging inside you. Pleasure reawakening, you gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.
“I want to be everywhere.“ Cupping your pert round ass, he sat straight and bucked his hips up. “I want you, every single inch of you.”
You embraced him and rubbed against him. “You’re inside my heart, August. You’re everywhere.”
He kissed you, possessing you. His lips were demanding, brushing against yours, tongue claiming your taste.
This time, he gave you a fast and insatiable rhythm.
“Yes! Yes!” You blubbered as you rode him, your clit rubbing perfectly against him. He fucked you so good and you tightened around him, sweet bliss flowing through you just in time with his release. You shouted his name, not caring about the volume or your desperate moans.
“That’s. My. Good. Girl,” he panted emphasizing each word with each pump of his seed inside you. “My anchor. My reason for everything.”
Summary: When you nearly compromise The Organization on a job because of your impulsiveness, your boss August Walker decides it's time for a demotion; since you clearly still have much training ahead of you.
Disclaimer: I sadly do not own August Walker or any of the other Henry Cavill characters mentioned. This is a mature and morally gray story so browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.
Warning(s): D/s dynamics, m!dom, f!sub, the relationship is probably morally gray, slapping, throat fucking, power imbalance, pet names, hair pulling, deep throating, gun play, smut with plot (I am sorry I just couldn't stop), humiliation, degradation, camera play.
Note: Oh, my God! It's finally here, first Auggie fic go boom~
MASTERLIST
✟
"You're out, do not call again." You sighed into the phone and momentarily shut your eyes in frustration as you kept an eye out through the window of the dingy motel that you crouched next to, trying to stay one with the darkness of the room.
"Boss…" It had taken you risking your life to buy a new sim card just to get him to pick up your call. "Come on, the whole thing would have gone south–"
"You have been told more times than can be counted to not take matters into your own hands" your form stiffened when you noticed a man from a rival gang casually stroll by the motel as he pretended to be a passerby. Fuck. As your eyes scanned the area you realized that you were slowly getting surrounded. "If anything goes against the plans it is protocol for the team to regroup and–"
"Boss… The Angels…" Had it not been August on the line, you would have masked the panic in your voice with not much effort or hesitation. "T- They're here…" There was a brief silence.
And then;
"That's your problem now, Y/n" your throat tightened when he did not use your gang alias. "I told you" there was shuffling on his side. Sweat broke out on your skin. That meant he was done with the conversation. "You're out."
The line went dead.
Your tongue felt swollen as you glanced at the briefcase you had put everything on the line for.
Just to lose anyways.
Yes, alright. Maybe you had ignored Marshall's order to abort the mission and fought off Shaw because Kent had been incompetent enough to mess up hacking the target car's engine in time. And yes, maybe you had risked exposure by following the vehicle. But the fact of the matter was, no one had died and the asset was recovered all the same. The mask that you wore on missions had ensured the protection of your identity and though anyone from your line of work could tell it was Walker's notorious Wraith, no identifiable features meant no evidence.
But no.
How could things ever end that easily?
Solo being the asshole that he was just had to rat about the entire ordeal to Walker.
Okay sure, maybe you had to shake off cops because one of the men inside the car had noticed you following them. And maybe you had had to wait for the streets to cool off for the rest of the day but that did not mean you had betrayed them by running away with the asset or something!
Even if you had gotten caught -which you never did; hence your alias-, your boss should have known that you would sooner die tortured in a shithole slammer cell than rat.
You bit your tongue as you tossed the phone on the table after breaking the sim card, watching the inevitable unfold before you with vigilant eyes that stung from the moisture accumulating behind them as you readied what little weapons that you had on hand.
The growing tightness in your throat was tugging at the back of your oral muscle and your jaw was aching from the strength it took you not to cave into emotion. But you held your nose high and snorted at the rivals– enemies before rolling your moist eyes at them. You could not help but critique them even then because if they were trying to blend in, they were frankly doing a shit job.
"Of course" you snickered as you got up and went to stash the briefcase in the best spot you could find.
The Diablos had teamed up with The Angels and the irony of that was not lost on you.
So it took the State's top two gangs -that were arch rivals under usual circumstances- to bring The Wraith down, huh?
Being young and impulsive as you were, you had pissed all the wrong people off under August's wing. You had earned it through your knack for casual brutality which was so devastating and sickening in nature that it seemed something innate for you.
But now that the affiliation was gone, it seemed everyone wanted a piece of the once mighty Wraith.
You burst into a cold chuckle again.
All these men just to try to take down one girl, huh?
Crouching behind the bed with your gun aimed at the door after you had successfully hidden the cause of your demise in the most secure spot you could find -not wanting your foes to succeed even now-, you sucked in an icy breath and braced yourself for what was coming. "Here goes" you whispered to yourself as you pushed your airpods in your ears and blasted your music through them probably one last time.
For if these were the last minutes of your life, you wanted to go out guns blazing with your favorite tunes blocking the ugly out.
That, and the emotions that were trying to dominate your mind and crawl down your eyes in your body's attempt to deal with the overwhelming sentiments surging through your body like electricity.
No.
August Walker's Wraith didn't do emotions–
Wait.
Fuck.
You bit your tongue as you cussed at yourself. You did not belong to anyone.
Especially not an asshole who had the audacity to doubt your intentions even after you had submitted to him everything you had had to offer.
Service, body, mind, soul… heart.
Your true drive behind striving to always get the job done was only to please him. It had been for a long time at this point. And so yes, you sometimes resorted to undesirable, disobedient means to achieve the goal but it was all only to make him happy.
Richer.
Contrary to the popular belief which had been spread around The Organization by Solo, you did not do it to move up the hierarchy. At least, not anymore. Sure, ambition had been your initial motivation before everything but nothing in the world mattered except for Master anymore.
… The same Master that had abandoned you when you needed him most.
A humorless snicker escaped you at the thought and you couldn't help but shake your head. At the end, you were just like all those foolish girls that had come before you in different shapes and forms, belonging to different times and contexts; discarded cold and teary eyed at a crossroads for anyone willing in the end.
You had gotten lost in your thoughts, eyes focused on the door but peripherals ignorant to your surroundings; the flashes bouncing off the windows and the smoke of dust and gas permeating the air outside.
You lost track of the minutes and songs that passed in mere fleeting moments to you as you forced yourself to recall basically everything despite the agony that you felt. You deserved the torture. A reflection on your entire life and how futile it had turned out to be in the end was important. It was only fair.
A man had been your undoing, this sentence wasn't enough. But it was all you knew in the moment.
You were so completely focused on denying yourself any tears that you failed to take notice of a member of The Angels slamming into the glass of one of the windows as he was obliterated with some 7mm bullets.
It was only when the door shook by getting kicked that your heart and body jumped alike; pulling you back to the present, your heart strings tugging. Your hand tightened around your weapon. This is it. Clenching your jaw tight, you stabilized your breathing and waited for the enemy to kick the door in. The thought of just how pathetically you were cornered made you snicker as you shook your head.
Only, when the door swung free and you went to press the trigger did your chuckle die in your throat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Your heart weighed down in your chest until it was too much for your chest to hold and it let the organ fall into your stomach.
Your breaths tightened.
The strength from your lungs drained.
Your fingers yanked the melodies away from your ears faster than you could register.
Almost as though your body was suddenly on autopilot.
"B- Boss…?"
The silhouette of a seething August blocked the doorway, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each pant of his breaths as his lungs churned. When his fingers roughly clawed at the switchboard to turn the lights on, his dark, glossy eyes came into your view before the rest of him did.
The man was covered in blood as his pistol that held a metallic hue glinted in one of his hands. If you didn't know any better you would have said it seemed as though brief relief washed over his otherwise furious face when his bulging eyes finally located you in the room. Though his face instantly hardened of any emotion the moment it happened. His jaw clenched tighter as his eyebrows drew apart from each other, the cold blue of his eyes that were livid with chaos somewhat calming down while you gaped at him in shock.
The Boss never came down to the field himself.
You had heard it had been a long time since he had last done it.
… All you had asked was for some backup.
What were you to make of this?
How–
"Kneel" oh.
But Master could.
And he had.
A ghost of a smile played on your lips as you rose and walked over to the middle of the room quicker than you could think, eyes wide and glassy. Your weapon slipped through your fingers the same time as when you collapsed on your knees in front of him; awaiting his next command with all the self-respect and ego you had conjured up in the last few minutes long forgotten.
Nothing else mattered anymore.
For Master was here.
There was no need for you to think anymore.
All that needed to be done now was to sit back and obey without question.
August calmly walked over to you and stopped when he was towering over you, letting out an intentionally exaggerated sigh as he propped the tip of his weapon under your chin. "Liability" he had called you that the day Gus -your mentor and guardian figure in the whole organization- had finally presented you to him; The Boss, after months of trials.
Your bottom lip wobbled with all that was cycloning through your head but you dared not speak.
He had a way of making you feel so small and vulnerable it melted away your resolve every time.
"Impulsive" the back of August's free hand that was covered in splatters of blood struck across your face and your head lolled to the side. "Stubborn" now your other cheek was caught in his fingers and you let your face swing free in the direction of the slap. Master was the only man who could treat you that way and you were nothing to deny him of his wishes.
The barrel of his gun brought your chin back to the center again. "Headstrong" as another strike caused your face to sway in the same humiliating way, the knowledge that were he some other man you would have torn your revenge for treating you like this out of him sent tremors down your abdomen.
You could but you wouldn't.
Because it was August; the sole proprietor of your entire existence.
The tip of his Sig Sauer brought you back in idle position again. "Non-compliant" as you received another harsh strike, you bit back your rising ire for though you submitted to him wholeheartedly, getting pushed around had never been your forte.
But Master can do whatever he wants, you're his for treating however he desires.
He was worthy of being worshiped.
Maybe he was the only man who deserved such service.
And perhaps that was the reason why your hips clenched as hard as they did each time he treated you like you were nothing but part of the dirt under his shoe.
Like right now.
August centered you again and your insides threatened to boil over when you noticed that the broken door was open wide as it swayed with the gentle breeze of the night, the gap helping the guys to a perfect view of the inside of the room.
You.
And Master.
Whilst Syverson and Phillips had the decency -the latter probably only because you were a daughter figure to him- to look away, Solo, Shaw and Kent watched on shamelessly as they stood clutching their rifles, ready to shoot down any potential threat.
"Disobedient" as your head lolled aside again, you felt your cheek sting just a bit harder than the other one due to the way your teeth dug in it, the gazes from outside only making it all the more worse.
Your eyes traveled back to Master's darker, much stern ones. Fuck. You felt hot slick pool in your underwear. "Amateur" a whimper escaped you as the realization that the others could see you so vulnerable and submissive pricked the skin of your ears. "Overconfident" besides, this very personal dynamic you shared with your boss was private and none of your colleagues knew about it. So either August was ignorant of the door or he was so serious about whatever he was about to do to you, he didn't care.
Although, since the man had an extremely vigilant nature, you doubted the former was the case.
Which only left you with the latter conclusion…
This time around, your face was recentered -you were never to do that yourself unless ordered to do so- not with the Sauer but with a harsh grip on your hair. "Seems to me you were not trained well enough to know your place, little girl" he had bent down to put his face in close proximity to yours, pulling you up by the grip he had on your head to meet him halfway.
Your lips fell agape as your knees burned, shaking just a little as you tried to triumph the induced Parkinson's. It was not easy to make the Wraith tremble. But championing impossibilities had always been August Walker's specialty. "Y- Yes, Master…" Cold, shaky breaths left you as you trembled under his glare. Your loins ignited to life and you couldn't help but subconsciously rock your hips against empty air. "P- Please t- teach me, Master…" You risked speaking out of turn, determined to win him back no matter what for you no longer remembered how it was like to function without him.
Without the sense of sanity and balance his commands created for you.
And you were not willing to relearn it.
Ever.
"Hm" August mused with obvious sarcasm. "Or," he let go of your hair and stood back up to his full height, raising the gun before pressing the cold, bloody tip to your forehead, "I could save us all a whole lot of time and just put you out of everyone's misery." His thumb moved to click the safety off, the sound flipping your stomach in the most vile of ways, none of which were concern for your wellbeing.
"Whatever you deem fit, Master" keeping your eyes trained on him, you went on a limb and slowly moved to crane your head backwards and let the barrel crown trail between your eyebrows and down your nose. "Thank you, Master" the silent yet bright rage in his cold blue orbs caused for a shiver to run down your spine.
Suddenly, the certainty that you were now sure to survive the night that had kindled after his arrival was extinguished just like that.
And yet, you parted your lips when the beginning of the barrel reached your mouth, sheathing it in your oral cavity and between your cheeks, the length causing them to hollow as you looked up at him. The metallic taste of the blood spatters that the Sauer was covered in caused your taste buds to sting as it further invaded your balmy cavern and the apex scratched against your throat. You tried not to cough, breathing through the nose as your hips helplessly rocked again with a mind of their own, the discomfort in the back of your mouth bringing tears to your eyes.
You were too far gone for this man.
And there was no rationalizing or denying it.
"Now that's more like the pet I raised" your pussy clenched and you whined softly, wanting nothing more for the still seething man to take you against every surface available in the most depraved of ways. Each one that you were familiar with. "Remembering your place already, aren't you?" His now eased up breathing slowly started to clamber again as he reached for his fly with his free hand, pistoning the weapon in and out of your mouth to demonstrate how his cock was about to defile your mouth. Though you were to never move a single muscle out of turn, you could not help but bob your head along the Sauer in a horizontal fashion while your holes clenched again.
You had come too close today.
It could never happen again… if your boss would even allow there to be another time, that was.
But for now, there were amends that needed making.
"Now then, what do we say?" August nearly slithered as he pulled the Sauer out of your mouth but didn't holster it, instead letting it dangle by one hand whilst the other tangled in your hair to pull you closer to his cock.
"Want you in me, Master…" You resisted the urge to just open your mouth and move up on it.
You had angered him enough for a while.
"Want me?" You cowered at his faux amusement that came out as a growl due to how enraged he was.
"N- No…"
"No?" You gulped to yourself before trying again.
"No–" you shook your head in panic, raking your mind to come up with an appropriate response. "I- I mean… N- Need you, Master…" Yes, that was certainly better. "Please…" Your bottom lip quivered as your words wavered with a pleading wanton in them. "N- Need you."
"And where do you need me?" The lack of contempt in his manner indicated that you were on the right track. Or at least somewhere near it.
"M- Mouth, M- Master…" Your nails dug into your thighs as you tried your best to hold back from touching him.
Disobedient girls didn't deserve to touch their Masters.
"And why do you need me in your mouth?" He let go of your hair to pump his monstrous girth a couple times as he stroked your cheek with the barrel of the Sauer.
"T- To fuck my face, Master." You answered honestly, completely ignorant of how shocked Kent was at what was unfolding.
Usually you were much more vigilant than this single minded mess you had become, but this was just the effect August had on you.
"Is that right?" A twisted smirk made its way on his face. "And why do you need me to do such a humiliating thing to you, little girl?" You hadn't realized that your heart was thumping until its erratic beating began to put strain on your chest.
"To be reminded of my place, Master." That seemed to finally create at least a semblance of satisfaction and your Master allowed you the tip of his cock at last.
"And where is your place?" He waited patiently even though his body was clearly having a hard time holding back now that your warm lips circled his leaking tip.
"Under you" you spoke through a mouthful of dick. "On my knees" you tried to kiss it to show your devotion but the puckering of your lips caused a loud suckling sound. His features twitched. "At your service, always" something else, a hungry dark, now mixed in with the bright lividness of his cold blue eyes and he grunted before pulling you closer by your hair, trailing the gun all the way down to your chest now.
"That's right" he let go of your hair to slap your cheek before resuming his hold on the strands, grunting at the way his cock felt the vibration of his own palm from when he had struck you. "And you better remember that the next time you want to break protocol" your eyes widened in realization and hope flashed in your eyes.
A chance.
You tried to respond but his cock was too far into your mouth for you to be able to let out a coherent answer. Ao you chose to hum and unintentionally sent waves of pleasure all the way down to his balls. Well, all's well that ends well, right? You began to bob your head up and down with a newfound optimism, peeking up at his humongous form with pure adoration in your eyes.
August cursed under his breath at the sight of you so submissive and comfortable in your humility. The sheer love and devotion in your eyes as your warm cavity clung to his cock, the mass of your lashes fluttering each time your face slid all the way down his length and the way his tip brushed your gag reflex with each movement, the stubble on his crotch tickling your nose as you did, it was all too much for him to handle with civility.
"Use your hands" so he finally allowed you what you had been craving for. You felt your pussy throb when his thick veins twitched against your grainy tongue. "Go ahead, show me what you are good for" his voice was gravelly as the Sauer slipped into the neckline of your shirt and he let you feel the cold metal against your skin.
You gladly complied, moaning at the feeling of the weapon against you, hoisting yourself further upwards on your heels as you reached for his balls with one hand and palmed them generously. Your head rotated each time you moved in on his cock, other hand working fast to pump him each time you pulled back until you were only sucking on his tip.
"Look at you" August hooked one foot against your knee and pushed it apart to create more distance between your legs. "Maybe you should retire as solely my toy for the rest of your days, huh?" Leaving the weapon hanging from your shirt and tucked tightly in your bra, the older man clicked the safety on before clasping his fist around your throat. "You're much better at it than the job, anyway" the corners of your shoulders jutted upwards when his cock finally breached your swallow tract and tears fell from your eyes at last in thick drops at last.
Glancing up at August with your bloodshot eyes, you darted your tongue out to trace as much the circumference of his ballsack as you possibly could. He cursed heavily. "Just like that… good girl" the back of your throat was warm and even more inviting, enveloping him in such a way that an imprint of his cock appeared on your delicate skin, the ridges grazing against August's palm that pressed against it.
Your head was now dizzy due to the lack of air but you did not care as you unplugged your mouth just enough to wheeze in as much air as you possibly could, releasing a fat wad of hot spit down the intimidating length of his cock that you pumped messily with your hand. There was a dull ache in your scalp because of the taut grip that he had on your hair. Your lungs burned. Your ears were on the verge of melting along your brain. Your jaw ticked due to his size. Your throat stretched each time he violated its inner cavity. Your pussy throbbed for attention and your abdomen pulsated painfully.
But none of it mattered.
So long as you got to satisfy your Master, everything was bearable.
"Fucking hell" August groused as he stilled your head in one place to reach as low as he could possibly go down the back of your oral cavity, pistoning short-paced thrusts up and down the space to fuck his orgasm out. Your trembling hands gripped his knees as you felt a strain in your jaw due to how his sack was widening it, obediently licking and sucking at his balls to the best of your ability.
Somewhere amidst the thrusting and swallowing, your windpipe catched a drop and you coughed, further intensifying the man's pleasure as the turbulence caused a mix of your spit and his cum to spray out of your nose before it trailed down to your lips.
August fished his phone out of his jacket and quickly snapped a shot of your state.
Hair disheveled, mouth full of cock, red eyes full of tears that stained your flush cheeks, thick strings of drool and his seed dripping down your chin.
"Make yourself look pretty for me" he nodded at you with a brief glance to his cock and where it connected with you.
The camera was still trained at you when you obediently pulled him out with a gag and cough while pumping the rest of his cum out and onto your face. The flash of the lenses nearly blinded you as you looked up in the video that he was recording now, your tongue and swollen lips glistening as you painted yourself pearlescent.
"Now, what do we say?" August panted once you were done.
"Thank you so much f- for giving me a chance a- and fucking my face, Master" your voice was hoarse and a near whisper as you forced it out through your worked out mouth, licking your lips to collect as much of him as possible.
"That's fucking right" he ended the video by squeezing your cheeks in his grip until your cum covered features scrunched in the most humiliating way before he landed a last slap to your cheek.
August fixed himself up professionally like he didn't just fuck your throat into oblivion and you submissively waited on your knees, awaiting his next command. After he was satisfied with his appearance, the man wiped his hands on your jacket before he took his gun out from between your boobs and holstered it.
"Up" raising one of his hands above his head, he snapped his fingers and allowed you the privilege of leaning on one of his arms as you scrambled up to your feet.
A very stunned Shaw was by his side within the next second, his ears a deep, almost embarrassed red. "Retrieve the asset" the younger male awkwardly looked at your obscene state as you wordlessly nodded in the direction of the briefcase stash. "Now," August's fingers snaked around your hair again as he glanced down at you, "let's get my estranged Wraith home" your head lolled in his direction as he began to walk towards one of the many sleek black SUVs parked outside.
"You have been demoted" he informed you once you had both settled in the backseat of one of the vehicles. August thrusted his phone in your hand. It displayed the picture that he had taken just a few minutes ago. "We will begin right from the start; the basement" your heart dropped. Oh, fuck. You had only been down there once and it was not a place where August was pleasant in any sense. And your sadistic lover was never much agreeable in the affectionate sense anyways. You definitely still had a lot to atone for. "Keep looking at this picture. I don't want your eyes off it for a second" the menace in his tone made you gulp as the humiliating picture burnt its way into your eyesockets.
A few seconds passed before you felt August's hands slip around your ass but you dared not look up to express your wonder. "Now… about that weeping little pussy of yours…" Honestly, it was hard not to notice. The stain you had made for yourself was too dark and wide for anyone to miss.
Prompt: Slow & Romantic, Cock Warming from @florxdexcerezo (x) Thank you so much for sending the prompt in. Sorry its taken so long.
Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader
Word Count: Approx. 600
Warnings: Smut, cock warming, p in v sex
Authors Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago, but wasn't feeling up to posting it. I'm still on semi-hiatus, going to be a couple of months more at least, but here is a thingy I did. Hope you like it. Thanks to @nashibirne for reading.
Edited by me, there will be errors
Dividers by me.
Masterlist
Celebration Masterlist
Your eyes fly open. A heady rush of adrenaline pumps through your veins as your hand slips under the pillow on the empty side of the bed and curls around cold steel. You keep your breath slow and even as if you're still asleep and listen carefully.
But you’re too late.
A firm hand covers yours and a heavy, hard body traps you beneath it.
“Don’t scream,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
You loosen your grip on the pistol and allow the hand to take it away. In the dark, you hear the thunk of the gun being placed on the nightstand.
“You could knock,” you point out.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“And yet, here we are.”
The weight on top of you shifts and you think you can just make out a small smile on his moustached face. You reach for the lamp, but he stops you.
“Leave it off,” he says.
“August, please,” you whisper. Your hands cover his whiskered cheeks briefly before he shakes you off.
“Leave it.”
He stands. You vaguely see his outline as he removes his clothes. He’s moving stiffly, slowly and breathing in soft grunts and rough exhales.
“How badly are you hurt?” you ask.
“Nothing so bad that a good night's sleep won’t heal,” he says, dismissively. Sometimes it scares you how easily and smoothly he lies to you.
“Then why are you here?” you ask with a rueful laugh. “The last thing you ever do here is sleep.”
You see his shape pause. You stare at where you assume his eyes would be, he needs to know you aren’t stupid; that you know this thing between you won’t result in a ring on your finger or a pretty white dress.
The longer he stands there unmoving, the harder it is to keep looking into the darkness. What is he thinking? You open your mouth to ask, but close it with a small shake of your head. It's not like he’d be honest anyway.
He starts to undress again. You lay back in bed. Does it really matter if he’s here to fuck you or sleep next to you? You’ll give him what he wants, you always do. You can’t help yourself.
He slips into bed, curling himself around your naked form. His hands begin a long exploration along your hip to your ribs and back again while his face is buried into your neck. You can hear him draw rough, ragged breaths, his mouth is so close to your ear, his lips graze along its edge.
Driven by a primal instinct, you arch your back, lean against him and open your legs in an invitation that needs no explanation. He doesn’t hesitate and quickly you feel the smooth, warm head of his cock sliding over your folds, gathering your wetness before sinking deep inside.
By the same instinct, you begin to roll your hips, relishing the feel of his length as your pussy glides over him. But his hand clasps your hip and holds you still, your ass and back pressed firmly against his chest.
“When I’m gone, I dream of this,” August whispers, “of being inside you.”
“Then please move.”
“No,” he growls, “I need to be inside you. All night.”
You moan and he throbs deep within you. His nose presses into your hair, his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tighter and tighter until you think he’ll crush you.
“You’re so warm,” he whispers as he softens his hold on you. “I need you to keep me warm. I’m so fucking cold without you.”
Hey, regarding your Henry Cavill fics, could you write about August Walker as a husband or a father? I've never read anything related to that about August. The idea of August being this evil man but with a secret family. He's an evil antagonist and I love him like that, but soft August would be nice for a change.
hello, I do apologise for taking so long to get to this and the shortness. I hope you enjoy it either way.
summary - your married to august walker, and he finally comes home and greets you and your kids.
the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips
“Honey, I’m home!” August walks through the door tiredly. He puts his bags down and kneels, hearing little feet running toward him. August smiles, opening his arms as his daughter and son run into them.
“Daddy!!!” They launch into his arms, wrapping their tiny arms around him. “Missed you so much!” They giggle, snuggling close to him.
“I missed you munchkins too! Were you good for mummy?” August asks, stroking their backs and hair. They nod, grinning up at him.
You smile, leaning against the wall and watching your husband with your children. “Hey, baby.” He looks up before standing, lifting your kids into his arms and walking over to you. August smiles, leaning close and placing a soft kiss on your lips. Your hand comes up and strokes his cheek, noticing the tiny cut.
August Walker is the pride and joy of M16, keeping the targets in check and successfully protecting the assets of the Rogers’ family to fit the needs of all. Cold, ruthless, and cunning, he can accomplish every mission sent to him and ensure the success of the business every time, with failure not an option.
It’s quiet as August drives up to the large warehouse, seeing several cameras and security doors within the area- more than reasonable for a small security warehouse, but in far more numbers than it should be.
That’s one thing he knows- if something seems off, it’s hidden for a reason.
He releases a breath and adjusts his tie, quickly attaching credentials to his chest as he easily steps out and uses the fake keycard to enter the building. While this business is supposedly nothing important, he does know the man killed by the White Wolf worked high up in this company; any fool who is worth killing must have something to hide, and there’s only one person who can make someone suddenly pass of “natural causes”.
“Can I help you?” A sweet voice asks, catching his attention. August turns, immediately noticing a woman sitting at a desk, seeming to be on the defense as soon as her eyes moved from her computer to land on him. He can’t help but smirk, only slightly irritated when it seems to have no effect. Usually his charm helps women cave into his needs easier, but this is the first time it hasn’t proven… effective.
“Hello,” He smiles, politely stepping closer to the desk. “I’m here for the random audit of the facility.”
Her eyes narrow, her hands moving as she checks the computer anyway. “We just had that audit last week. Are you sure you’re in the right place?”
“Well, they wanted to make sure they didn’t miss anything.” He hums, curious as she seems to tense up even more.
“I’m sorry, you can’t come in.” She says firmly, finally stopping to meet his eyes. “No exceptions.”
He hums, trying to hide his frustration. “This isn’t a voluntary audit, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.” She resumes tapping on the computer, back to ignoring him. “Have a good day.”
Swallowing a growl, August moves back to his car, immediately grabbing his phone. “The damn receptionist isn’t letting me in. How much do you really need me to behave?”
Steve’s laugh echoes in the sleek car, making August glower. “Of course not. We need to find out about those weapons and why the White Wolf is involved in our business.” He hears the sound of cloth brushing along leather, a typical sign of Steve relaxing back into his chair. “Do some digging. See what can get past the receptionist. Play nice.”
“I am nice.” August hangs up, growling a bit as he watches the desk. He notices her tensing up as he inserts the headpiece, his secret bug smoothly under the corner of her desk from before.
“Who was that?” A deep voice demands, making August glance up in time to see a man storming into the room. The receptionist doesn’t even flinch, continuing to type as she doesn’t look up.
“Just someone asking too many personal questions. I figured it was a wannabe thief.” The lie rolls smoothly off her tongue, and August can’t help but smirk. Someone who can easily lie is always a more entertaining target. The man immediately get defensive before storming off again with a stream of curses, and August grabs a pen and scribbles the name down as he smirks to herself. He glances up to see the receptionist grab a notebook from her desk, frantically scribbling something down as August chuckles darkly, seeing her immediately hide the notebook again.
Time to play.
…
“She’s a mole.” August tosses a file on Steve’s desk, cracking his neck as he settles into the leather couch. “A smart one, too. Reporting every little finding to the police as if they’ll help stop them.”
Steve hums, flipping through August’s work. “A good one. Embezzlement, fraud approvals, fake deals with large deposits… She thinks it’s drug money, if the police responses are correct.”
“It isn’t wrong,” Lloyd pipes up, not looking up from his phone and ignoring August’s glare. “Just missing some key details.”
“Keep up with her.” Steve shuts the folder with a firm smack. “See if we can make an arrangement. You’re the one with M16 ties, maybe see if you can play an angle.”
“She’s certainly done her research.” August sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll see what I can get from her.”
“Good boy,” Lloyd mocks, yelping when Steve chucks the folder at him. “Alright, alright!”
“Get back to your target, Hansen.” Steve nods to the door, ignoring the man’s grumbling as he retreats from the office. “You sure you can get in from her?”
“That or take her information from her.” August pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “I need her to cooperate. With as minimal damage as possible.”
“Then get to work. We need to figure out what made the White Wolf eliminate our competition. If we can get there… Maybe we can work out a deal.”
“Fine.” August snatches the folder back, rising as he grabs his phone.
Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.
Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.
Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader
Word Count: 9.4k
Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.
Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.
10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.
“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”
You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.
You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.
It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.
The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.
You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.
You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.
Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.
“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.
He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.
He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’
“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.
He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’
You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.
You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.
It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.
“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.
“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”
“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.
“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”
Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.
“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.
His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”
He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.
Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.
“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”
‘No fucking way’….just your luck…
You were going to fucking take it no matter what….
Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”
You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.
“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.
He laughed hard.
He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”
You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”
Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…
Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....
You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.
You discovered the following about August J. Walker.
He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.
August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.
On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.
A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.
It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.
So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.
09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.
August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.
He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.
Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.
So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...
He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling, you were definitely a tasty little thing.
It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.
He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.
He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.
He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.
He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.
He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.
So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...
Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.
As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.
He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.
“Walker.”
“It’s Gibson.”
He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”
“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”
“Oh?”
“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”
The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.
He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…
“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”
His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.
He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”
His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.
His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.
“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”
She...
He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.
She...
She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...
“What did you say?”
“Sir the cost to-”
He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”
“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”
His thumb pressed hard against the pen.
“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.
Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.
“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.
He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”
Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...
“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”
August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”
His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.
“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.
He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”
He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.
“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”
06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.
“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.
You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.
If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.
When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.
A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.
You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.
‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’
He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”
‘Him...August Walker...’
You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?
The package was as thick as your hand.
You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.
You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.
Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.
You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.
“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”
Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.
‘Stay down or I will put you down.’
When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…
Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.
Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.
Your teeth clenched hard.
You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.
You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.
But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.
Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.
You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.
August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...
You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.
Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?
You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.
Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.
‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’
Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”
His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”
Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.
Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”
You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.
And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.
‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’
It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.
You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.
The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.
'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.
If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?
You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.
You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.
Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.
You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.
You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...
02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.
On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.
Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.
Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.
Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.
Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.
The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”
You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.
You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.
‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’
It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.
As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.
When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”
The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”
You prayed he’d bite the banter.
The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”
You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”
And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.
09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.
Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.
The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.
‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.
You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.
You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?
You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.
Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.
The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.
06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.
You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”
You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.
A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.
You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.
You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.
“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”
You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.
But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.
“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.
You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”
“The tesla?” He asked.
“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”
He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.
As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”
God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.
He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.
You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.
To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.
‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’
Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.
You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.
The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.
Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.
06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.
As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.
He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.
‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’
His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.
“Hi Lloyd.”
“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.
‘Oh right.’
“Come- come in.”
You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.
You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.
Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.
You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.
If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’
“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.
“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”
His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.
“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”
You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”
His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.
You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.
“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”
You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.
He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.
You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.
You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.
You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”
He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.
You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.
He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.
“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.
The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.
Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”
There was a lengthy pause.
He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”
You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”
Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”
Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.
You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.
His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”
Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.
“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”
His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”
You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”
“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”
His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.
Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.
You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.
“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.
Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.
Lloyd smiled softly.
God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.
Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.
“Y-You said you needed help with something?”
He smirked, letting go of your hand.
He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”
“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.
“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”
You pieced it bit by bit.
“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”
“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”
Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.
“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.
“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.
“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”
You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.
“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”
‘He threatened to put me down.’
He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”
You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.
The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”
You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.
“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”
He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”
Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”
His left brow rose.
“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”
He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”
Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.
You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”
The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…
“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”
You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”
He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.
“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.
“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.
You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.
You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.
You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.
Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.
You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…
You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.
Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.
You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.
What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’
You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.
So why did your body start to dry up?
You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.
After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.
You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’
You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.
The hour was late.
Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.
10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.
“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’
A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.
“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”
Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”
You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”
The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”
Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.
She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.
She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then
She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.
Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.
The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.
You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….
Lloyd thought so too.
HELPLINES:
If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .
Cassidy has found out someone paid her school bills for the rest of the semester...
The Contractor makes himself at home inside her apartment while she's gone.
MINORS DNI - 18+
Cassidy finally stepped up to the counter at her school office. It was time to pay for her last semester of school. Sure, she still had student loans, but it was a relief to know that she was almost done with her degree. "Hi," she smiles at the woman behind the counter, "Cassidy Turner." She pulls out her checkbook as the woman looks up her name on the computer screen.
"Ms. Turner, your school bill has been paid already."
"No..." Cassidy shakes her head, closing her checkbook to stare back at the woman. "There must be a mistake. I haven't paid my bill yet."
The woman looks at the screen once more with a sigh. "Looks like the bill was paid last week."
"Thank you," she offers to the woman, shoving her checkbook back into her purse as she stalks from the office. Joe could have paid it, but while his family was well off, he wasn't well off enough to do something like this for her. No... there was only one person that would have done this.
She pulls her phone from her purse as she stands outside the door of the office. Her suspicions are confirmed when she pulls up her student loan information to find the balance at zero. "Fucker!" She ignores the glances she obtains from a few other students as she furiously messages August. She knew she couldn't barge into his office, because Joe would wonder why she was there. And she couldn't invite him back to her place or show up at his place.
Cassidy: We need to talk. ASAP.
August: I'm sorry... who is this?
Cassidy: Don't fucking play with me.
August: Cass? Or Candy? Which one am I talking to?
Cassidy: Goddamnit Walker...
August: Watch your tone, or you'll regret it.
Cassidy huffed, hating the way his warning even through the phone elicited a gush of arousal in her panties. She rolled her eyes, typing in one last message before returning her phone back to her purse.
Cassidy: Peacock Café in one hour. You're buying me lunch.
August laughs at his phone, going over Cassidy's last message. He knew paying off her loans would force her to reach out to him. He calls up his old friend, The Contractor, waiting for him to answer.
"Yup..."
August rolls his eyes at the response, sighing. "She'll be out of her apartment for at least the next hour or so."
"On it," he responds, hanging up without another word.
"Okay," August scoffs, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stands up from his desk to pull on his jacket. He stops at his assistant's desk and the young girl flutters her eyelashes up at him. She was young, around the same age as Cassidy and just out of college. She was attractive; model features with long blonde hair and big blue eyes that would certainly look better looking up at him with her pink lips wrapped around his cock. But he didn't like to mix work with pleasure, despite how many times she tried to make it obvious to him she wanted more. "Cancel the rest of my meetings today. I'm going home early."
"Yes, Mr. Walker," she responds sweetly, making sure to lean forward to display her breasts to him in her blouse.
August leans on the desk with his palms flat on the desk. "What have I told you about flirting with me, Ms. Riggins?"
She blushes, straightening up in her chair at his tone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Walker..."
"Good." He winks at her, the blush now turning a bright shade of red as he chuckles, walking away.
The Contractor steps into Cassidy's apartment, breaking in easily. August had tried to pull records of her online, but she had changed her identity when moving to DC. He wanted to know more about her and that is where The Contractor came into play. Sure, August could do what he did, but August was a public figure. The Contractor could keep a low profile much easier.
He closes the door quietly and looks around the small apartment. It was modest and neat, everything in its place. He walked to the bookshelf in the corner of the living room, planting a small camera on top that covered most of the living room and small kitchen. He moved a few little knickknacks, some porcelain owls, just the slightest out of place to see if she would notice. He grabbed one owl, keeping it in place as he completely turned it to face the inside of the shelf, laughing to himself. Small amusements.
He opened the fridge next, taking a large swig of Cassidy's almond milk before turning the carton so the label faced the back of the fridge. After looking through a few cabinets and drawers, he diagnosed her with OCD and moved on to the bedroom. The aroma of coconut and lavender filled his senses as he entered, smirking as his cock jumped slightly in his slacks.
He begins to open dresser drawers, finding a pair of pink lace panties. He brings them up to his nose, taking a whiff, slightly disappointed at the fresh laundry smell. He folded them and neatly placed them back into the drawer and closed it. There were no personal photos anywhere in the apartment. No family photos or even of friends. He made a mental note of that and moved on to the closet next.
He found the small safe on the ground, in the back of the closet behind some dresses. "Bingo," he mutters proudly to himself as he lifts it to bring it back to the bedroom to send on the edge of the bed. It doesn't take him long to crack it open. He takes photos of the documents inside, finding out her birth name was actually Catherine Faris. "Hmm..." He doesn't touch the money she has neatly stacked inside, but takes a photo of her passport before placing everything neatly back into the safe and replacing it in her closet.
He stops in the middle of the bedroom, contemplating whether to put a camera in her room or not. Part of him wanted to, but he finally sighed, shaking his head as he decided to inspect the bathroom before leaving. He opens the medicine cabinet first finding birth control pills as well as Lexapro along with a few other antidepressants. "Hmm..." He picks up the Lexapro bottle, opens it to find it half gone, and checks the date. He places it back in the cabinet, turning the label slightly to the right as he chuckles to himself, moving all the pill bottles slightly off center.
As he turns to leave the bathroom, his gaze catches on a pair of red lace panties on the top of the laundry pile in the basket. He snatches them up and brings them to his nose, savoring the sweet, musty smell as his cock jumps to full attention this time. "Mmmm, that's the stuff." He shoves them into his pocket, making sure all the lights are off before leaving the apartment just as he receives a text from August, telling him that she was on her way home.
Chapter 6
Candy
Taglist
If you want to be added or removed from my list, let me know 🫶🏻
When the dam breaks (carry what you can). John Wick x August Walker, aka the crossover that nobody asked for but is happening anyway. Two bedraggled men meet in a bar. They’re cold. Wet. Miserable. It’s a good time to find a warm willing body. Smut, oral, handjobs, angst (dammit this was not supposed to happen), over abundance of water metaphors.
———
John and August are unlikely companions, if you can even call this companionship. It’s the natural outgrowth of a chance meeting, two souls brushing against each other in a bar that’s seen better days. It’s silence, save for the soft thump of glass on wood after each sip. It’s the faraway drone of rain and the droplets sliding down John’s cheeks before he pushes his hair back with a sigh and folds himself down onto a barstool. You look like shit, he says, with a sideways glance that cuts to the bone and spreads out warm beneath August’s skin.
Says the drowned rat. August isn’t exactly fresh as a daisy either; he’s been drifting, friendless, washing his socks in one motel sink after another for weeks. Can’t go home to Langley, can’t go crawling back to the Apostles and beg to be accepted into the fold. Either way he’s a traitor; either way he can expect a long imprisonment somewhere far from the light, followed by an unmarked grave and an eternity of rotting into worm food. He rubs thumb and middle finger together and considers his next words. Buy you a drink?
Yeah.
Of the two of them, August is the talker, all bravado and schemes within schemes within schemes. He can weave a tale so riveting that he’s long gone before you notice there’s nothing at the center of it but empty air— or at least that’s how things used to be. Poor fucker doesn’t have a soul loyal to August the man anymore; he’s been written off, 86’d, thrown to the dogs. John Lark the myth is another story. There’s probably someone already stepping into those shoes, shedding their old name and taking up the mantle of Lark the Apostle, Lark the world-ender, Lark the killer of innocents. He’s got revolutionaries lining up around the block to suck him off while he reads from his beloved manifesto.
You really believe that shit?
Yeah. No. I mean. What he means is that he wants— wanted— to excise the rotten core of the world, to cauterize the wound and find a new way forward. What he wanted was the impossible. What he got was— what? Chucked off a cliff, crushed and incinerated in a lonely valley? Nah. If he’d done that, then he wouldn’t be here, bottle dangling from his hand, doing his damnedest not to let his leer slip into a grimace. Fuck it. If I wanted to spend the night feeling sorry for myself I’d just sit here until I float away. Nevermind the chorus of coward coward coward that stands behind his every thought. Nevermind the moment he lost his nerve and bailed on the last leg of the mission.
Was it cowardice, though? To stand on the precipice of the world’s undoing and feel that gnawing sense of wrongness? August says it is, but he’s a liar even to himself. Easier to tell himself he was too shit-scared to go through with it than to face the years he’s spent doing it all wrong. Come on. August leaves the bottle and makes his way upstairs. John follows a half step behind, shedding pieces of his suit until he’s no longer bulletproof, heart hammering away with only a sweat-stained shirt to keep it contained. And soon enough that, too, is gone.
Everything in this room is tinted red from the neon sign that blinks and fizzes outside the window; its light pulses in time to the need that ratchets their breath higher and faster; the slow steady exhale-inhale-exhale that leads up to the kill shot has no place here. This isn’t a dance; the burn of stubble is artless, honest, cutting swaths of mine across their skin. There’s a scar below John’s clavicle that still carries that strange sensation that vibrates between numb and burning; August fills its shining red hollow with tongue and teeth, biting down and working his jaw to make John buck his hips and growl.
(What’s the last thing you want to see? To hear? To feel? What sensations are you going to carry with you when you leave this world?)
Fucking and fighting are much the same at their core. There’s the sweat and straining limbs, the tight-knotted elation of movement, the rough raw physicality of it all. And there’s blood smeared on the sheets, scabs torn off from the friction of bodies sliding across the bed; John looks down at August and there isn’t a sneer or a smirk or any kind of twisted lip to mark his conquest but it’s clear all the same. And so they stare at each other, wild-haired and panting, until August speaks because of course he’s the first to break the silence.
We gonna fuck or what? There’s no waver in his voice, of course not. Probably not. Aw hell. He hears it plainly and maybe it’s just been too long. Maybe he’s still burning from the inside. But it’s strange: there’s no shameful heat across his cheeks, no ache from grinding his teeth in the aftermath of cracking himself open like this. Maybe it’s the way John watches quietly, somewhere between assessing and patient, free from judgment. But he is thinking all the same, lips parted around words that have yet to take form. He speaks like he moves: thoughtful, purposeful, much like the sea in the moments before nascent islands break its surface.
It’s…been a while. Seems there’s always gravel lodged in John’s throat these days. The pad of his thumb is rough and callused; he draws it over August’s mustache and down, arousal sparking through him at the feel of August’s teeth as he bites onto John’s thumb and grins. It’s easy enough to shove his way further, pressing down hard on August’s tongue; need glazes those pretty ocean blues and maybe it’s a risk but he’s going to spit right onto August’s tongue, blood and bourbon leaving their sting.
The thing about taking a risk, about actions that could have repercussions beyond your wildest dreams, about taking a bat to a beehive for that sweet sticky honey, is this: you have to ask yourself, is it worth it?
(That’s the problem with you, John. You know what the fallout is going to be and you do it anyway. You’re a damned fool.)
Yeah, it sure as hell is worth it, if only for the unh that rips loose from somewhere deep in August’s gut. And maybe it’s been a while for John, but he’s not the only one. August’s hand reaches out and it’s shaking, maybe mildly enough that in any other situation it would go unnoticed, just like the gnarl of breaks set and reset, the fingernails that never grew back quite right, the deep white line across his palm. But it does shake. John sees it all, and folds it into his understanding.
John rests his forehead against August’s belly; he breathes and thinks only of this moment, savoring the twitch and jump of muscle beneath him, shoving away thoughts of anyone or anywhere other than this. Easy, he mouths, clever fingers reaching down to grasp August at the root. Gotta want it bad enough.
Didn’t. Ah. Didn’t realize you knew how to be patient.
I got a little perspective. It’s a hell of an understatement, coming from the guy who wakes still wrapped in dreams of the world beyond the world: not white clouds and angels, not burning agony, but merely quiet— until the waking world filters in with its noise and chaos pulsing bloody at the edges of his thoughts. But still, somehow, he walks back into the world. Better days may never come again but he shrugs back into his suit and finds his way from one day to the next.
(Don’t rush it. Time means nothing except the long stretch between stab and scar.)
It’s— oh, fuck. It’s been a while for me, too. Laced between August’s words are the hitched breaths of too much, too soon but he is sweating from ears to asshole and when he says I want it’s the wrecking ball before a failing dam; when he says I need it’s the shiver and groan of cracking concrete; he closes his hand tight over John’s and his fourth finger slots into the gap between John’s third and fifth. Their grip skips and stutters; it’s rough with calluses and scars, the marks of lives hard-lived. But their hands are strong, steadying and falling into rhythm; the susurrus of skin-on-skin is the sound of river stones tumbling as the current carries them along.
It’s a dry burn, and this time when John spits it’s to ease the way, to give brief respite— and perhaps, a bit, to admire the way it slides down August’s shaft— mingling with precum, foamed white with friction.
Orgasm isn’t even the point of all this, although it’s good— better than good, with August’s eyes first screwed shut and then opening muzzy and unfocused— and though John pulses hard and wanting, he holds back; he drinks deep from the well of a mind devoid of thought and for a moment he, too, finds himself purely empty and still. Their hands are still joined, sticky with seed, til August disentangles and reaches out. His hand is almost steady when he says now let me get at you.
And now their places change; the coverlet crumples beneath them as John rolls to his back and hooks one arm behind his head; neon light pools in his navel and in the hollows of his many scars. Words unspoken hang about his lips, caught against sharp fangs. Easy there, he mouths. There’s nothing to prove and nowhere to hide here; their lives are written in tightly shining ink across their skin, and the sum of all those scars is this: we’re here. We survive no matter how we feel about it. He strokes a hand over the back of August’s head, not pressing down but weaving through soft hair. And there— just there, right at the base of August’s skull where every nerve seems to converge— his hand settles in a weightless grip.
August laps up salt and musk, letting the taste burn its way onto his tongue. If his eyes are wet it’s from the effort of swallowing John inch by inch. The red streaked across his cheeks and throat is just from the strain of cataloging every twitch, every rolling groan. It can’t be more than physical, it can’t. It can’t. Absolutely not. Aw, fuck.
Alright? John’s voice is level despite the hitch of his hips, chasing after warmth and that slick clever tongue.
Yeah. It’s just. Just what? It’s like I said. Just been a while. August’s lips are spit-slick and shiny and when he speaks the words are roughly prickled. Now zip it. Gonna give you something you won’t forget. He descends again and keeps his word: he is artless, messy, and above all unforgiving. There is no room to breathe, no finessing John to the edge and back; he swallows hard and with a press of his tongue he ends it. His mouth is filled with bitter come that drips pearlescent from his ruddy open lips; he glances up and he is caught— they are caught— bound and drowning in this moment. He is seen, and in turn he understands.
(Nothing is permanent. How can you stand it?
You don’t. You hold on to what you can and grieve the rest.)
There is time, tonight, to take it slow; the room is paid through the night and anyhow it’s lousy weather. Here beneath the burning shower spray, draped over the back of a chair, tangled in the pile of their own discarded clothes, stillness waits for them. And rain is falling on the river somewhere far away.
