#he might be blackmailing him to live and work with him but he knows what buttons to push to also seduce him 💀 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beardedjoel · 9 months ago

Text

oasis

dbf neighbor! joel miller x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: your dad's friend is tasked with looking after you while he's out of town. he ends up finding you somewhere you absolutely shouldn't be. blackmail ensues. 8.3k words.

for @iamasaddie's writing challenge! my genre was dark and the prompt was "please don't tell my dad!" thanks for the amazing challenge! 💌

warnings: 18+ MDNI! dark themes, joel is pervy and sleazy, age gap (reader is under drinking age but an adult so 18-20, joel's age unmentioned but he calls himself an old man and he's 50+ in my head), consensual but there are elements of coercion and blackmail so... (it's dark! okay!), unprotected piv, lap sitting, lap dance, thigh/crotch riding, orgasm denial, pussy pronouns, dirty diiiirty talk, cumshot?, reader has hair that can be pulled and wears lingerie but otherwise is undescribed.

a/n: this is less edited than my usual work but i hope i did it justice! it was very fun and silly to come up with this idea and i ended up loooving how crazy it got!

Keep an eye on her while we’re gone, eh?

The words from your father ring through Joel’s ears when he hears the start of an engine from where he sits in his living room, his view on the plush couch offering a perfect view through the large picture window on the front of the house. Right to where you live with your dad, where he can see the lights of your car come on. Bingo. He’s got you now.

Obsession felt like a strong word, but Joel could describe it no other way as soon as you’d moved in across the street - your dad was a longtime friend and neighbor, talk of his little girl rampant for years before he’d had the chance to meet you. You were going to be going to college nearby, so you moved from where you lived with your mom in California down to your father in Texas, right across the street from where he’d had the pleasure of laying eyes on you for the first time.

Young. Supple. Beautiful. And so damn shy.

He hated just how much it turned him on when your timid eyes would find his. The pervy old man who couldn’t keep his eyes off a young girl - what a god damned cliche he’d become. He kept tabs on you, at first not really realizing he was doing it, eyes peering out the windows to catch you on your way out the door or coming home soon escalated to trying to see into your bedroom window at the front of the house. His time with your father mysteriously seemed to double, then triple, any chance he could to get close to you, see you in your natural habitat, hoping to learn more about this special girl that had captured so much of his attention.

You dressed modestly, too - far too modestly for his liking - he knew your father was a strict man, and assumed just as much about your mother from the way your dad talked about his ex-wife. He never got to see enough of you, except for the few times you had on shorter dresses when the summer heat just got to be too much to bear, and those rare occasions burned themselves into his memory, a bank of images to pull from when he took a hand to his cock and thought of you.

He’s up in a flash, smiling softly to himself as he quickly slides on his shoes and swipes his keys from the front table, exiting the house and seeing your car still parked in the drive. You always sit there too long before driving off, probably playing on your phone, texting your friends, whatever the hell young girls like you do. All Joel knows is he’s grateful it gives him enough time to sneak to his truck before you can get too far, waiting until you pull out and start down the street before starting his own car.

Joel checks the time as he starts down his driveway and sees it’s well after 9:00 pm. Where the hell could you be going, you naughty thing? Your dad has a strict curfew for you, he knows, and if he’s tasked with keeping an eye on you, he might as well do it right.

So he follows you. You get on the highway, heading towards downtown, and Joel’s eyebrows raise as he turns up his music, cruising along behind you, so unaware as he sees the outline of your own head bopping along to your music when he can get a clear enough view.

When you finally park, the city streets bustling with people out late on a Friday night around you, Joel sits in his truck, eyes peeled as he watches you round a building, disappearing. Oasis, the glowing sign on the front says. It looks a bit seedy, this area of town, a bouncer on the outside that you’d given a curt wave to sending Joel’s expression into pure shock before a determined smirk crosses his lips.

It turns out it’s not as exclusive as having a bouncer would make it seem. Joel waits in line with the others, feeling a bit out of place but his appetite to bust you outweighs all of it. Not more than ten minutes later he’s inside, the dark hallway opening up to a massive room laid out in front of him. It’s busy - bodies everywhere, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and arousal permeating everything and Joel blinks to adjust his eyes to the dim mood lighting. A dance floor takes up most of the middle, crowded to the max as music bumps through the speakers, and two bars flank either side, fully packed as well. There are lounges everywhere - cushy leather couches with tables, and as Joel’s vision comes in in full, he sees more private spots along the edges of the room on a slightly elevated area, curtains closing them in.

Too busy taking everything in, he doesn’t even notice the most important detail right away - the waitresses. More specifically, the way they’re all dressed. Gorgeous bodies of all shapes and sizes, parading around in what is essentially lingerie - a lacy black bra paired with a matching set of panties, sheer black stockings and a garter trailing down their legs all the way to the heels that adorn their feet. Joel feels a twinge inside his belly, pulling low and taut when he spots one of the waitresses with thick thighs and a plush stomach grinding on a woman sitting on one of the couches, the receiver throwing her head back in teasing, pleased laughter before taking a long sip of her drink. He continues scanning the room, seeing another man closer to his age being straddled by a different waitress with one of the nicest pairs of tits Joel has ever seen in that same uniform, her hips swaying and grinding so close to his crotch as she gives him a lapdance.

Fuck.

His mind spins faster, blood going hot as it runs through his veins, his cock twitching under the denim of his jeans. It’s been too long - all the pining, the built up frustration, and he’s needy. He finds it hard to believe you’d just be out partying at a place like this, certainly not the neighborly girl he knows. Bringing over leftovers you’d cooked for you and your dad, always with a little treat on the side and a soft smile, your frilly socks and white tennis shoes, collars that never revealed much past the very top of your gorgeous tits. But it still made him fucking crazy, all of it. He wanted to be the one to ruin it, to see who you really are underneath all of the fluff and sweetness. Because at the end of the day, he knows he wasn’t imagining that glint in your eye that told him you had more to offer.

Joel shakes the distractions and his dirty, racing thoughts, eyes scanning the room for you, remembering his mission. He is about to internally ask himself the question when your appearance answers everything he needs to know. Slack jawed, he looks on as you step out from behind one of the bars, tossing a smile over your shoulder at one of the other workers as you start to move carrying a tray full of drinks.

When you emerge in full, strutting your way across the room, you’re wearing it. The outfit. The skimpy bra and panties to match all of the other servers. Your coworkers. Oh, he’s so thoroughly fucked right now, he thinks in a rising panic. But then again, so are you.

“Thank god you’re here! You’re seriously such a life saver,” Kristina says breathlessly as you breeze into the locker room. She’s one of the supervisors here at Oasis, the club you’ve been working at since the beginning of the summer. Sure, you were underage to serve alcohol, but the owners of this club seemed willing to turn a blind eye to a lot of things to gain good talent. Good pay, direct cash, and an insane amount in tips. Enough to pay your way through college, you hoped. Beyond all of that, once you’d gotten into the swing of things you found that you liked it, too. The power you felt in these heels, the way eyes followed you everywhere, you’d never felt so desired, so free or sexually open in your life. Although the only time you’d actually had sex was with your one ex-boyfriend, and it never felt like you do here - sexy, with raw desire filling the air, something so tangible you feel you can reach out and touch it sometimes.

You pull your shirt over your head, unclasping your regular bra and swapping it for the black, lacy one that lives inside your locker. Kristina stands nearby, unfazed by your bare chest as she thanks you. She’d called you about forty five minutes ago, begging for you to come in on your night off when another server, Rochelle, got sick right as things started to pick up. Friday night tips hadn’t sounded so bad when you had no plans apart from watching TV in your dad’s empty house, so it felt like a win.

“No problem,” you say, smiling at her. “Happy to help.”

“You’ve got section five tonight - Justin has Laura covering right now, just switch out when you’re ready, kay?”

You confirm, quickly finishing up your swap into your uniform, admiring yourself in the mirror with a soft smile, still getting used to the look of lingerie on you. You’d have been stupid to keep something like this in the house with either of your parents, not worth the risk if they found out about it.

The noise of the club blares, making you wince for a quick moment as you step out from the calmness of the locker room to the deafening noise beyond and get your bearings behind the bar. It really is busy, but all you can see is money when you glance around, admiring how full the place is tonight.

You’re stopped in the middle of your flow after swinging by the bar to pick up drinks for one of your tables. It’s an extra flirtatious group of men who are practically ready to feast on you, but for all the poorly managed things about this club, they at least have a strict no touching rule with the staff that is enforced by any number of the security guards around. So you get to have your fun, keep your distance, and hope they pay extra for a lapdance from you and tip you well for it.

“You’ve got a, uh, private request,” Justin says, speaking quietly but leaning close to your ear so you can hear him. You pull back, a look of surprise on your face, a questioning glance that he confirms with a nod. “We’ll cover your tables. Room seven.”

Your mind spins faster as you walk towards the room. The rooms aren’t fully private, just a halfway curtain that gives the impression you’re more alone than you are. That luxury doesn’t come cheap, so whoever booked this room and asked for you must mean business. In fact, management hasn’t even put you on serving private rooms regularly yet, reserving that right to the more tenured employees until you work your way up the ladder. You smile, wondering who it could even be that specifically requested you - a regular that loved the banter you’d offered? A new customer who was drawn to you from across the room? It makes your heart skip a little, anticipation and a hint of nervousness coursing through you as you reach the curtain, stepping beyond to see your mystery customer.

Holy shit.

The sultry smile you’d plastered on fades right off your face, replaced with a deep set frown, your mouth open but unable to speak. Your stomach is rapidly dropping to depths it's never known before as your face starts to burn hot, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. Your arms fly up to your chest, crossing them over as some kind of futile cover of yourself, but his eyes are trained there unashamedly, seeing the way your arms have really just accentuated your cleavage. He’s spread out on one of the loveseats, completely alone, knees wide apart, lap open and desperately inviting when it absolutely should not be.

“M-Mr. Miller?”

Joel was having far too much fun with this. The priceless look on your face that had wiped off the pretty grin you’d had was worth every damn penny he’d spent on this ridiculous room just to get you alone. You think you can cover up, somehow, but it only really offers Joel a better view of your bottom half, the lacy shorts style panties a treat for his weary gaze, the garters sitting against your soft skin one of the most enticing things he’s ever seen. He instantly feels his cock getting hard as his eyes rake up and down your body, settling on where your tits are now pressed together against your crossed arms.

“Mr. Miller?” you stutter out after a long, dense silence between the two of you.

“Don’t cover up on account’a me, sweetheart,” Joel replies cooly, threading his hands together behind his head, looking even more relaxed than when you’d first walked in. Your arms seem to tighten around you, the complete opposite of Joel.

“Wh-what are you -” you start trying to ask, and Joel notices how you suddenly look unbalanced, legs shaking underneath you. You attempt a step forward, bringing yourself further into the room and it gives Joel an even closer look at you, and god damn you’re gorgeous. Your skin looks flawless, so smooth and soft looking - the apex of your thighs coming closer to eye level as you move forward, all adorned by that lace that’s making him wild. He’s never seen anything close to this much of your skin before, and he has half a mind to grab you right here and toss you over his lap, taking everything he wants from you.

“Could ask you the same thing, couldn’t I?” he questions you, enjoying the tease, the way he sees your face screw up a little tighter at the very valid point he was making. You’re caught, and there’s no way around it now, he thinks smugly.

Your face falls, eyes going to the ground and watching your feet shift nervously in your heels. “I-I get it. You made your point. I’ll go home, okay? I know I shouldn’t be here -” you stammer out, and the guilty look on your face tells Joel what he’d already suspected - your dad knows absolutely nothing about this job of yours.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Joel says, but he makes no move to get up, keeping a steady, unrelenting gaze on you. When you flick your eyes up to him, he sees they’re watery, and it makes his insides twinge with a strange mixture of regret and pleasure as he sees the tears brimming along the edges of your eyes, the subtle panic he can see growing.

“You’re bein’ very bad, ain’t ya? ” Joel tuts, and you seem to almost flinch at the words from where you awkwardly stand in front of him still, unsure of what to do, where to go. Joel feels that pleasure growing warm in his gut, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “I mean, look at that outfit, sweetheart -” Joel starts with a low whistle, sitting forward slightly so you can see just how much he’s admiring it, his eyes narrowed in inspection, the weathered lines in his face apparent with the way his brows are raised. “Thas’ a far cry from those clothes you wear on my doorstep, play actin’ a good little girl.”

“N-no! I don’t - I didn’t mean - I am good.” You’re more and more visibly flustered, your arms wrapping around yourself as Joel continues to tease you, intent on bringing you down a few more notches.

Joel gives you a condescending glare. “Darlin’, ain’t nothin’ good about this. Lemme tell you what I think…” He leans back again, staring up at you, not once inviting you to sit, and knowing you won’t unless he does - he wants to make you sweat. “You never got to have that rebellious streak w’ both your parents bein’ who they are, did ya? An’ you thought you deserved it, to have a little fun, didn’t you?”

Your lip quivers and you blink back another set of hot, embarrassed tears, eyes trained back on the dark, faux marble floors, refusing to speak.

“Didn’t you?” he asks again with more bite. Fucking brat. Good thing Joel had plenty of tactics up his sleeve to whip a wannabe brat back into a good girl, he thinks with a sly smile to himself.

“Y-yes! Okay? I wanted to do something… for me,” you finally admit, feeling yourself shake a little at his demanding words.

“Now was that so hard?” Joel asks, becoming acutely aware of just how hard he is, almost painfully so now that he’s been teasing you, fantasizing about this moment for far too long. You shake your head, still hung downwards in shame before bringing your eyes back to his. They look soft, youthful and desperate, and Joel has never felt so turned on in his goddamn life, all the power he’s feeling rushing right to his cock.

“J-just… please don’t tell my dad,” you say, almost quiet enough Joel can’t hear it over the distant bump of the music. But he made it out, the words he’d been hoping you’d say, the ones he knew you’d have to utter.

“I won’t,” Joel starts, seeing the relief flood your face, nearly laughing at how quickly you put stock in his words before even hearing what else he has to say. So naive. “But what’s in it for me, hm? Ain’t gonna keep a secret without a little… incentive.” Joel’s hands plant on his thighs, running up the length of them as he watches your emotions shift in real time, your jaw going slack, eyes widening and barely blinking. You just stutter, completely taken aback and Joel had expected as much - you’re too good of a girl to navigate a situation like this. Good thing he already has his next words planned and loaded up to help you along.

“Laps feelin’ mighty empty, y’know…” Joel muses, leaning back and spreading his palms out on the leather couch next to his thighs. You flash your eyes to his legs, then his face again, mouth gaping open, finally realizing just what he’s asking for.

You can’t believe this is happening to you. You should never have taken this job, kept such a big secret from your dad that you knew he’d absolutely kill you for if he found out. You were technically an adult now, but that didn’t mean you could just throw away his rules while you lived at home with him.

And now you were being blackmailed by his friend. His very handsome friend, but you’re trying hard not to think about that right now. There’s no way he’s serious about this, no way he could actually want this from you? The neighbor girl, his friend’s daughter? Mr. Miller had always been kind, just a bit of a grumpy edge to him but he loved to joke around with your dad. You often caught them laughing together, too shy to have inserted yourself enough with someone who made your skin grow hot just from glancing into his dark, chocolate brown eyes. But without that buffer of your dad, here alone in the dim lighting of the club, it was like he’d become another man.

“Y-you want me to…?” you say, blinking hard as you stare at his thick thighs and crotch, all spread wide open. It’s enticing - normally even with an attractive customer you find yourself thinking of it more as work - fun work, but still work. But with Joel… you’d felt heat pooling between your thighs as he observed you this entire conversation, the desire starting to outweigh the embarrassment you were feeling.

“Paid for it, didn’t I?” he remarks practically, a nip of impatience edging his voice as you swallow hard and step forward.

“Y-you don’t have to… we can get a refund if you don’t want me to do it…” you say, trying to remind yourself not to mumble, but your nerves are getting the best of you.

Joel’s head shakes slowly, his hand drifting out smoothly from his body towards you, tenderly locking on to where your wrist dangles at your side and pulls you closer. Closer. Closer, until he’s pulling you down so that you have to bend down, coming face to face with him. Your cheeks burn, breathing heavy and stunted as the tension in the air thickens, his lips so close to yours. You can’t help but glance at them, the inviting curve of his lips drawing you in, but Joel’s eyes are elsewhere, peering down right between your bodies where your tits are on such display for him, spilling out of the bra at this angle.

“Like I said,” he coos softly, eyes obviously drifting up towards your face, “I need a little incentive to not spill your dirty little secret, darlin’.” A smirk grows on his face before he lets go of your wrist, and you stumble backwards a little.

“Y-you -” you stutter again, trying to counter him, but you come up short. “O-okay…” you mutter with a sigh, taking a deep breath before you hesitantly turn around, facing your back to him.

Joel tuts immediately at your lack of enthusiasm. “None of that, gimme the full show, sweetheart, or the deal’s off.”

You huff quietly, taking a few steps away from Joel, readying yourself. He can see the change in your demeanor already, the more confident strides you take before turning around, facing him again. Then you begin your routine, practiced and ready, pacing towards him with a feline, graceful energy, heels clicking on the floor as you slip one leg in front of the other, heading towards him. You almost hesitate, pushing yourself through the doubt as your hand reaches out, grazing along his shoulder, moving inward towards his collarbone.

Your fingers drag along his chest, where one button of his flannel shirt is open, wishing you could delve your whole hand inside and feel the more than likely gorgeous planes of his chest. Christ, he’s so meaty, so thick everywhere you touch.

A soft rumble escapes his chest before you turn around, grinding your ass downwards and then back up, teasing him by getting a little lower each time. But it’s not enough, he knows you’re holding back, your movements a little stilted and awkward. His cell phone is out of his pocket before he can think much more about it, snapping a photo of the way your ass is grinding down towards him, just enough of your side profile in the photo that it’s undeniably you.

“Come on, know you can do better’n that.” Joel clicks his tongue, making you freeze, hovering awkwardly above him. “Do this for a livin’ lord knows how many nights a week. If you ain’t gonna give me what I paid my hard earned money for I can call your daddy right now… maybe jus’ text him this picture. What d’you think about that?” Joel asks, holding his cell phone forward and into your eyesight. You gasp, hands grabbing for it just as he snatches it away.

“D-delete that! Please!” you cry out, feeling panic squeeze at your chest. Fuckfuckfuck you are so thoroughly fucked right now if Joel has photo evidence.

Joel smiles down at his phone, peering at the image one last time before pocketing it. “No can do, sweetheart. Now, I don’t really wanna have to ask again, yeah?”

You only gape at him for a moment longer before snapping your mouth shut and positioning yourself above his lap again. “F-fine. Jesus,” you mutter angrily, finding that the irritation you’re feeling is starting to spur you on as you begin to move again, feeling yourself turned on by Joel’s musk in your space, the heat of his body radiating towards yours in this close proximity. Not to mention you can sense just how turned on he is, how much this is affecting him as you move with more conviction, hips delicately swinging in front of him. If he wants a show, you’ll give him your best yet, you think with determination.

“F-fuck… attagirl,” Joel lets slip when you brush his crotch with your ass. He’s barely holding it together with your curves swaying tantalizingly in front of him, something even his wildest dreams likely couldn’t have conjured up. He’d never think he’d see you like this - so sensual, so fucking gorgeously in control of your sexual aura that it could make a man lose control. Your customers were beyond lucky, he thinks with a pang of jealousy shooting through him, making his blood boil hotter, his possessive side come out. While he’d been at home pining over you, thinking about you with a hand stroking his own cock, you’d been here - rubbing your pretty ass on all those lucky fucks and their undeserving crotches.

The thought makes him insane, the image of you doing this to any other man, so when you lean back against him, pressing your back to his chest, your ass just beginning to grind on his jeans, his hands go to your hips instinctively trying to bring you down onto him, to claim you. You slow your movements to a stop, leaning your head back towards his ear so that you’re almost entirely pressed against him now.

“Not s-supposed to touch,” you say, you voice the only thing giving away just how nervous you still are.

“Don’t fuckin’ care, if I’m honest,” Joel huffs back quietly, his voice husky and breathless. You bite back a moan as his rough hands wrap around each side of your waist tightly and help guide you that last inch downwards, sending your ass fully rolling over his crotch.

“H-holy shit…” you whimper when you feel the rough denim brush along the outside of your panties. You feel a flush run through you, your skin burning hot as you realize you won’t be able to hide how wet you’ve gotten for very long. It began slowly, just with his brooding, questioning eyes on you, now reaching a fever pitch as you’re in his space and feeling the prominent bulge in his pants.

It’s been far too long since you were satisfied. Truly satisfied.

Your breath catches as Joel fingers wiggle inward a little after hearing how much you’re getting into it, even closer to the waistband of your panties, the two of you facilitating the grinding motion together as you bear down a little more on his lap. Joel lets out a pleased hum, still somehow giving you the sense that he’s the one holding back now. His hands still have an air of respect to them, like they’re vibrating with the need to wrap completely around you and pull you to him, to roam your skin and grab at all the forbidden parts of you.

When the thought flashes across your mind, you realize you want him to.

“T-touch me…” you whisper, immediately clamping your betraying mouth shut as the words float out into the air. You hold your breath, waiting to see if Joel heard you.

“What’s that, gorgeous? Couldn’t quite hear you,” Joel says, his tone a low, mocking sound that tells you he’s baiting you, that he wants to play with his food before eating it. Your eyes narrow before they shut completely, rolling back when he forces your ass to move along his bulge again.

“F-fu- touch me,” you spit out a bit louder. “Please.”

“You poor thing,” you hear him tut from behind you, forcing your hips upwards and away before grasping onto your hands, turning you around to face him. “Can’t get us in trouble now, can we?” he asks tauntingly, his eyes giving you a heated staredown as they widen, almost looking sympathetic if there wasn’t so much of an appetite behind them.

You whimper, visibly whining as your face screws up, squeezing his hands with yours. Joel tugs, so lightly that you’d almost think it was your own idea as you start to come back down towards him, pressing the warmth between your legs against his thigh. You sigh shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly swing one leg over top of his and bear down a little more, straddling his thigh.

“We w-won’t… we won’t…” you breathe out, knowing it’s not the complete truth, but room seven is especially tucked back, hardly getting any traffic. In fact, it was known for bending the rules a bit.

“She’s so needy, huh? You all wet for me, sweetheart, that it? She need a little relief?” Joel taunts, and when you open your eyes to meet his gaze, he’s practically pouting. Your cheeks burn at how desperate he’s making you sound, but your hips twitch of their own accord, sending a zing of pleasure up your spine and you whimper quietly again, giving yourself away even further.

“Y-yes, Mr. Miller…”

“Keep on doin’ your little dance, pretty girl, jus’ right there,” Joel urges you, a hand finding the small of your back, the other locked onto your hip as you start to rock forward, then back again. Relief instantly floods you as your clit brushes against the ripples in the hard denim, making you move harder against him, mouth popped open in fresh ecstasy.

“Close that mouth before I shove somethin’ in it, you fuckin’ tease,” Joel grits out, his eyes burning wildly, finally giving you a glimpse at how affected he is as he keeps his stare on your face, starting to sheen with sweat. Your mouth snaps shut, a stifled moan pulling from your throat and behind your closed lips, threatening to burst out of you.

“This ain’t against the rules? Havin’ a pretty girl ride my thigh?” he asks in cruel teasing, flickering eyes glancing down to where your hips are shamelessly rocking on him.

“I- I don’t - know-“ you choke out, your legs starting to tremble as the pleasure slowly, steadily builds deep inside of you. “I d-don’t care…”

“Riiight, she’s on her rebellious streak now, ain’t she?” Joel mutters facetiously, smiling a devious grin as he watches your face screw up in concentration. You truly don’t care, you can’t care anymore when whatever the hell is going on feels so good. Damn this job, damn Joel’s games, you’re going to get what you need out of this right now, too. Your head is thrown back as your whines and moans escalate, showing Joel just how close you’re getting.

“That’s it, god you’re beggin’ for it, ain’t you? So dirty…” Joel’s hands grip tighter along your hips, starting to drag you inwards, towards his aching, clothed bulge. “Beggin’ for your daddy’s friend's cock while you make a mess all over his thigh, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought a good girl like you’d be wantin’ to get fucked by an old man?”

His words make you clench around nothing, the harsh tone making your insides twist in pleasure as you roll your hips a little faster. “F-fuck… I - I need to - Mr. Miller -” you plead aimlessly, feeling your core tightening, the obscene wetness driving you to full on madness as your pussy aches, cries out for Joel.

Your leg is being dragged over top of him, forcing you to fully straddle his lap, thighs stretched wide and burning at how wide you’re going to accommodate his huge frame. You’re in disbelief at the rough, needy noise Joel makes as soon as your cunt is pulled down onto him, Joel’s hands forcing your hips to start thrusting against him. You nearly lose your balance, wrapping your arms around his neck to hang on as he looks at you with determination. Hands planted firmly on your ass, squeezing hard as he relishes in the feel of finally having you like this, feeling your warm heat seeping through his denim right to where he’s desperate to have you most.

“Joel,” he corrects in his haze, stunting your hips to press down hard on his cock, sending a gasp flying out of your mouth at the sheer size of what’s to come. Your mouth is practically watering, so close to what your body craves now, what it needs. When your fingers graze the button of his jeans, he stiffens, seeming to snap out his lustful fog as he swats your hand away.

“Fuck… later,” Joel says suddenly, using every bit of self restraint to push you back, moving your heat from his bulge, the instantaneous lack of you devastating him to the core.

Your brows quickly knit in confusion at the sudden change in course. “W-why…?” you whisper breathlessly, bringing your lips near his neck, kissing the rough skin, working your way up to his patchy, gray flecked beard. His hand is at the back of your head, yanking you backwards by the hair, tearing your lips off of him in a brutal rush. He holds you there, the pull on your scalp starting to prickle harder as you sit staring at him like a tamed animal being held up by its scruff.

“Can’t fuck you properly in here. Too many fuckin’… people. Prying eyes wantin’ to see what all the fuss is about.”

“I-I can be quiet,” you retort, hating just how much it sounds like begging but the hold he has on you right now is so intense, so inexplicable that you’d say anything, you think.

Joel huffs, a tiny, incredulous snort coming out of his nose. “No, you can’t. Not if I’m doin’ what I plan on doin’ to you. We can’t have anyone come snoopin’, can we?”

You shake your head, suddenly wondering if he’s about to drag you out of here, take you home to his bed, or your bed, you think with a shudder. You feel a pull inside your belly, thinking you just might let him if you don’t get your head back on straight soon.

“An’ you still gotta work the rest of your shift, make your money, don’t you babydoll?” Joel says with a smirk growing, making your face fall completely into a deep frown. “Call it a little punishment for bein’ such a bad, naughty girl, yeah? Then you can finish up givin’ me my piece of the pie.”

You find yourself gaping at him for the umpteenth time tonight in disbelief. He wasn’t going to just leave you… like this? Was he? You can feel your clit pulsing against your panties, your body tense and wound up, on the precipice of coming so hard you saw stars only a few moments ago.

“Up, now,” Joel says, shifting his legs so that you’re forced to move, scrambling up onto your shaky legs, feeling like a newborn fawn getting your footing again.

“W-wait… I already - didn’t I… give you what you want?” you ask, suddenly feeling yourself snapping out of the heady, lust filled haze Joel had you in. This was insane, right? You can’t fuck him, you shouldn’t. It wasn’t right for either of you, and you’d been crazy to have just been this close to letting him stuff you full.

Joel’s head tilts, watching your slightly messy hair and smudged makeup for a few beats with a discerning gaze. “Nah, darlin’, you just gave me what I paid for. This is what I want.”

Your heart and stomach sink to new depths. “N-no. Joel! You said… if I gave you the lap dance you wouldn’t tell my dad. And I gave you a hell of a lot more than that -” Joel stands, interrupting you, coming forward and crowding your space, his hulking mass like a tower next to you, shadowing you with his commanding energy.

“Watch your mouth,” he snips, a hand gripping onto your wrist. “I’m the one callin’ the shots here, an’ I changed my mind once I saw just how pretty that sweet little pussy of yours can be. So here’s what’s gonna happen…” Joel’s fingers come up to ghost along your cheek, trailing down your neck, along the swells of your breasts as he speaks. You can’t help but shudder at the attention, how good it feels on your sensitive, needy skin.

“You go on out there, tell ‘em what a great job you did in here, work the rest of your shift like a good girl, thinkin’ about just how fuckin’ wet you got these pretty panties, how bad she needs a little help from Mr. Miller.”

Your breath is caught in your throat at his words, hitching further as his touch skates further down, sending your hips twitching forward.

“An’ I’ll be waitin’ for you after, darlin’, for what I’m owed.”

Your heart pounds as you slip out the side door and into the alleyway, pausing to let the cool night air wash over you as you gather your thoughts. Your mind is at war with itself, one half of you knowing this is a terrible idea, setting you up for complete disaster in the future. How could you ever face Joel again if you two took it that far? Then again, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to face him in the daylight already, anyways, without your cheeks burning so hot they caught fire. The other half of you was winning, had been winning as you worked the rest of your shift in a complete daze, hardly recognizing your own movements as your body burned hot and needy, mind completely scrambled by the conundrum of your father’s closest friend coming onto you and more.

You spent the rest of your shift coming to terms with the fact that you do want to fuck him. So badly. Even if it’s wrong, a complete mistake in every single way. You also know your mind isn’t to be trusted right now, running on pure horniness and desperation, never having been fucked in the way you know Joel could. His experience, his power, the way his lustful eyes had drank you in like the sweetest balm - it was all too hard to turn down. You turn, looking the opposite way down the alleyway from your car, starting to think you might be able to sneak around the block and get in your car and drive off without him noticing, wondering exactly where he’s waiting for you. You don’t see a soul, hear anyone else in this alley apart from the distant music from inside and chatter from along the main street which is a far cry from where the employee exit to Oasis dropped you.

You take the risk, heart thrumming wildly as you start down the alley, saying a silent apology to Joel in your head, and then yourself for letting this secret come out, knowing Joel was definitely not bluffing if you didn’t follow through on your end of the deal. Better to face punishment from your father than have to deal with the consequences of fucking his best friend and facing the feelings that would come after. You’re only halfway down the alleyway before a warm, rough hand is slapped against your mouth and an arm is draped around your middle and tugging you backwards. A wall of muscle meets you and you whimper loudly behind the hand, starting to yell.

“Shh, shh, no screamin’,” the voice coos, distinctly recognizable. Shit.

“Tryna sneak off on me, huh, pretty girl?” Joel says next to your ear, his neck craning down to breathe you in, groaning. It’s so feminine, so light and soft, the faded scent of your perfume and body wash makes him instantly mad with need for you. His hand slips down, giving your lips some room to answer now that you’ve stopped fighting him, leaning back into his hold a little more.

“N-no,” you choke out, lying. “S-swear.”

“Didn’t change your mind? Want me to send those pretty pictures to your daddy?” Joel coos, starting to walk you towards the brick wall of the building, pushing your body forwards until you’re pressed against the cool, scratchy surface. You hold back a moan when his body leans into you fully, completely dominating you as you’re at his mercy against the wall.

“I j-just d-don’t think we should -” you utter half heartedly, feeling heat rush to your cheeks, fearing what might come next after your suggestion.

“Why’s that?” he asks, dripping with condescension. “Seemed you couldn’t wait to get stuffed full of me not too long ago, yeah?”

“I-it’ll be weird after, w-won’t it? How can we… be around my dad? How can you?” You finally find your voice, your bravery, to ask him the question you’d been thinking the entire night.

A small chuckle blows past the side of your head from where Joel’s mouth sits against your head. “Think we both learned tonight I’m willin’ to keep a secret,” he says, his voice getting more harsh, a needy coarseness to it that sends goosebumps along your skin. Joel feels a frenzy overcoming him when he notices your thighs clenching, how shallow and wanting your breaths are becoming now. He can’t wait much longer… can’t stand the torture he’s endured at your sweet teasing for a second longer.

“I-I want it…” you finally say in a harsh whisper, your resolve faded within seconds. Your ass ruts back into his hardness, an ache that hadn’t subsided in the least in the last hours as he waited for you. Patiently. Like he had already been all of these months.

“You know I’m gonna ruin anyone else f’you, darlin’, don’t you?” he asks as his lips trace along your shoulder, now clad in a tank top that you’d changed back into. The bits of bare skin he touches taste like heaven, feel almost unbearably soft and inviting against his plush lips. He couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, but he couldn’t help but take it, anyhow. He could pay for his sins later. Your neck is next on his list, another supple spot of heaven to taste as he mutters the words again. “Don’t you?”

You just nod at first, dumbstruck by the feel of his lips, turning your head to try to meet them. “Yes,” you tell him softly, knowing it’s the truth, and there isn’t a turning back from this moment anymore. His lips are suddenly all there is, devouring your own whole as he takes in bounds, your tongues and teeth and mouths in a desperate clash, panting into one another as Joel starts to tug at your jeans, fingers flying desperately to tear them down.

You let him.

The second he’s pushing into you, you see bright white flash across your vision - that pulse of pain shooting through the very fabric of your being, your nerves lit up and screaming out from deep inside of you. Joel’s groan is barely audible through the ringing in your ears as he doesn’t stop, finding solace in your tight heat when he pushes himself into you in full. It’s heaven incarnate, you are heaven incarnate, he thinks, practically panting out the words as he feels your wet tightness pulling him in, walls pulsing as you adjust to the sheer volume that is Joel. Your cheek is crushed against the brick, mouth propped open in shock, the rough scrape on your face the only thing keeping you grounded as you whine out a long, wanton sound, something completely foreign to you.

“So… fuckin’... dumb on this cock,” Joel utters as he starts to move, a slow drag of his cock out and back in before he makes good on his promise to ruin anyone else for you, to never have a comparison to the blinding pleasure you feel rocking your entire universe as he quickly ruts into you. “Fuckin’ heaven.”

“J- fuck -” you stutter out, completely speechless. When one arm wraps around you, finding your clit, needy and puffy from hours of torturous edging, everything else melts away. The dark alley, the fact that you could be seen at any moment, the way you weren’t even sure you trusted Joel to keep your secret despite you following through on your end - none of it fucking mattered anymore.

“W-wanted this so bad, y’don’t know what you do to a man, sweetheart… Jesus fuck,” Joel says, uncharacteristically soft as his hips roll, sending your own bouncing onto his hurried fingers swirling along your clit. Desperation clings to the both of you now, hot and heavy air, hurried movements like this could be torn away from the two of you any second.

“Joel… I’m fu- I’m close, so close, please…” you rush out, feeling a pull of warmth at your center, his cock brushing along just the right spot to send you to that edge. You start to moan louder, the noise echoing in the open space around the two of you, your hand hurriedly slapping over your mouth to muffle it as the high starts to rock through you. His name screams from behind your hand, the sound still clear enough to send Joel to a state of crazed fervor, thrusting into you at an impossible pace, sending you bouncing harder against the wall. You twitch and shake, your eyes rolling back as you come harder than you have in months, maybe ever. Just like he’d promised, the absolute bastard.

“Fuckin’ creamin’ on this cock, shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” Joel marvels breathlessly as the obscene squelching of your bodies meeting only gets louder. “Oh, good girl, such a pretty, messy slut for a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“G-god, yes, fuck… I am…” you whimper out with flustered nods, completely spent as you come down from your high, letting Joel use your cunt to chase his own now. You twitch at the overstimulation, your body still tingling pleasantly as he turns you into his own personal fuck toy, your body his for the taking.

“Pretty as a picture, all fucked out like this,” he says slyly one hand planted on the wall next to you now, the other playing lazily with your aching clit. “Never gonna be able to give me up now, are you?”

You shake your head, lost in the moment with your answers as you feel another orgasm washing over you, less intense but still pleasant waves of pleasure rolling through while you gasp for breath, completely full of Joel each time he thrusts heartily into you, stealing away your air.

“Please… c-can’t…” you mumble through your climax, hardly able to take the stimulation anymore but knowing the sick little part of your brain is happy to do it for him, let him use you until he’s completely spent himself.

You don’t have to wait much longer for your wish, hearing Joel grunting, almost whimpering when he’s suddenly gone from you with a wet, slick pop, leaving you cavernous empty. He barely makes it out of you before his hand grips his cock, twitching in his palm as he comes towards the ground right in between your legs, ropes of cum coating your pulled down jeans and underwear, the brick wall, the pavement below you. His forehead is pressed to your back, sticky and hot as he catches his breath for a silent beat.

You’ve never felt anything like this, this satisfaction, this pure unadulterated filthiness and pleasure. The addiction already grips you, your poor, sore cunt already anticipating the next time he could ruin you.

But then it hits you like a train, pulling you out of your reverent little bubble - this can’t happen again. It’s out of your system, out of his, and now you both have a secret to keep. You start to pull your pants up, the movement seeming to bring Joel to his senses, reaching down along with you.

“Sh-shit, here, let me,” he says in a rasp, tugging your jeans up, the immediate feeling of wetness sticking to your body and making you cringe. “Little souvenir for ya,” he comments cockily, knowing his cum is now sticking to your skin, knowing that thought will sustain him for at least the next few hours. But that’s wishful thinking, he realizes, knowing that he could find himself buried in you the entire night, over and over again, considering hauling you away to do just that when you interrupt his thinking.

“I- I’m sorry…” you mutter, not even fully sure of why you even say it. For some reason, you are sorry that you put the two of you in this position, even if it ended in something so incredible that you have a hard time even putting it into words.

Joel spins you to face him, thumbing your chin and pinching it, bringing your face to look him in the eyes. They look a little softer than they had inside the club, more like the neighbor you’ve come to know. So charming and disarming when he wants to be.

“Don’t be,” he says, leaning down to kiss you more gently than he had before, something tender and sweet that you find yourself immediately falling for, body melting into his as you hang your arms around his neck, wondering when along the way you started feeling so comfortable with this.

“Besides,” Joel adds, a devious smirk pulling his lips upwards. “Your daddy ain’t home for a few more days. Think we can find a few more ways to convince me to keep your little secret.”

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #x reader

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bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

Text

First Years Finding Out Your A Girl?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Mild swearing, STRICTLY Female Reader, Discussion of Jack having a good sniffer (lol)

Info: Headcannons; Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel x Reader (platonic); Mostly for fun

🍓Hi. I'm back... sorta. I didn't have much time to write over the summer, and I honestly don't know how much I can write during school cause my schedule is... yikes. But I picked up something I wrote a while ago, edited it, and decided to post it. I'll be answering whatever's in my ask box right now, and then maybe work on some other stuff.

Ortho & Sebek

Second Years

Third Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part.

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course, but we’ll get to him).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

FIRST-YEAR SQUAD

Ace

-He’s one of the first ones who find it out, and it’s in the very cliche anime way.

-After some point of knowing you, Ace is so comfortable that he just invites himself into ramshackle.

-It’s never been an issue or anything. You’re thick as thieves now, you’ve survived death together a handful of times. If you ask Ace, that’s about as close as you can get with someone.

-Normally, you and Grim are just sitting around in the living area, but this time you aren’t. However, he does hear voices coming from your room. His curiosity is peaked.

-So, slippery guy that he is, he sneaks up to your room and his curiosity only grows when he hears a woman’s voice. Prefect getting lucky? And he didn’t tell him? Ace thought you guys were friends.

-He creeps up to your room, slides open your door, and!!! Holy shit it’s you. It’s you in a towel. It’s you and you’ve got tits?!?!

-His first reaction is to… well… scream.

-“You’re a girl?!?”

“Why are you in my room???”

“You’ve got- boobs!”

“Get out Ace!”

-Bro sits very politely and very quietly on your couch after that. Deep behind his blank stare, he is seething. You were a girl this whole time, and you didn’t tell him! He thought you guys were friends!

-He definitely fights you about it once you’re down and dressed. He’s just salty, he’ll get over it.

-Swears up and down he won’t tell anyone.

-Immediately tells Deuce.

-That's it though! Deuce is part of the main quartet, he deserves to know! (You scold him for this too, but you figured it would happen one way or another).

-From him finding out, he doesn’t really treat you differently. You’re still a person, why should he act differently cause you’ve got different body parts than him.

-Though, and he won’t admit this, he’s a bit more… watchful of the others around you. Yeah, you can hold your own and he respects you… but guys like Azul exist, and he’s seen firsthand the torture Azul is capable of.

Deuce

-As stated before, Ace outs you to Deuce almost immediately after finding out.

-Deuce, in all his awkward glory, completely shuts down. Disconnects from this plane of existence. He cannot believe the news he was just told.

-You, one of his best friends in all of twisted wonderland. You, the person who survived multiple overblots alongside him. You, who have seen him at his most vulnerable… are a girl.

-It isn’t even the fact that you’re a girl, it’s the fact that you kept this a secret from him for so long. You guys are… bros… how could you possibly hide something so important from him. Did you not trust him?

-Yeah… he overthinks things quite a bit.

-He also ambushes you the very next day with a million questions (very loudly (very in public)), to which you calm him down and reassure him that “No, Deuce, I don’t suddenly hate you. I wasn’t hiding it from you maliciously. I was going to tell you at some point, I just hadn’t had a good time to.”

-Deuce’s behavior definitely… changes… in some ways.

-Deep down he knows you’re a kick-ass bitch and you don’t need to be cared for, but he can’t help but want to.

-It’s definitely his mommy issues in play here.

-He just becomes more… protective and aware around you. Not in a creepy obsessive way, just in the same way a guard dog would.

-Like Ace, he’s more than aware of what the people on this campus are capable of, and you’re completely magicless on top of being more feminine. Some guys at NRC would hop on an opportunity like that like nothing.

-He just doesn’t want to see his friends getting hurt okay :(

-It’s like you gained an overprotective older brother who also sometimes barks!

Jack

-Out of everyone, Jack was the first to find out.

-I don’t wanna be the cliche writer but… he’s got a sniffer on him.

-He definitely could smell that something was up, but he didn’t want to assume!

-You could be trans, you could be genderfluid, you could be anything other than a woman! It’s not his place to judge, and smell isn’t always the end all be all. You could just really smell feminine and that's how guys come in your world.

-Mr. Respectful would never want to assume anything… but he’s a little curious he won’t lie.

-Jack REALLY found out shortly after Ace, Deuce and Grim got their asses in trouble with Azul.

-He’d never been given a reason to spend any more than a few minutes around you at a time. However, since he got pulled into this mess, he’s spent a lot more time with you.

-It happened when he was forced to hide under the desk in his office.

-You were so close and you just… smelled like a girl.

-He is so polite and so upstanding, he would NEVER ask you directly. But the suspense of not knowing really does take a number on him.

-By the end of Azul’s overblotting he is so awkward and nervous around you, that you absolutely have to say something.

-At this point, you figured most of the beastmen had an idea of you being feminine, however, you had no real confirmation of that.

-Jack is such a “let's not bother other people” kind of guy, that you knew he wouldn’t want to say anything to you if you knew… so you decided to take the plunge.

-At the museum, you pull him aside and you have to ask.

_”Jack?”

“Hm?”

“You know, don’t you?”

“…”

“I figured as much. Don’t tell anyone, m’kay? I want to tell my friends on my terms.”

-It makes Jack respect you more than he already did. Not only did you have the confidence to confront him, but you did it calmly and you were understanding of his position.

-And honestly? Not much changes between the two of you.

-He just respects you a little more. He’s not particularly protective around most other students, he talks to you the same, and he doesn’t act like you’re special. You’re just… a friend.

-The only thing that he may be different about is other beastmen. He does his best to shield you from them if he feels they might be a threat to your well-being.

Epel

-Epel, being a more feminine-looking man himself… doesn’t think much of you.

-At this point, you’re well acclimated to things at nightraven college, and are very good at being “one of the boys.”

-His ONLY implication is how… differently Rook and Kalim treat you.

-At this point, Kalim has found out via the previous chapter, and Rook knows because of course he does. (We won’t be getting into that today though)

-They both are more… delicate with you? Rook whips out the charm times ten when you’re around. Kalim, although friendly with everyone, seems to be even MORE friendly when you’re around. Like he wants you to like him.

-Even Deuce and Ace have a few… odd tells.

-They both pointedly ensure Jamil is at least five feet away from you at all times. Glare at Rook when he’s a little too charming.

-Other than that, nothing really gives it away.

-Epel is completely and totally in the dark because you’re really good at hiding that you’re a woman.

-He does, however, eventually find out because… Deuce slips up. He’s there giving his big speech on the beach, hyping Epel up, and somehow he manages, “And the prefect is a woman, but she never lets that get in her way!”

-Epel: Shocked, confused, in awe… says nothing. He lets the information ruminate.

-He lets it ruminate for a very long time.

-So long, in fact, that he doesn’t raise his suspicions until the two of you are on a broom heading off to save Vil’s life.

-The silence was killing him, so he had to ask.

-“Prefect, are you a girl?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I couldn’t be sure, I look like a girl too, so you never know.”

“Yes, Epel, I’m a girl.”

“…Cool.”

-Honestly, he’s kind of jealous of you. You passed better than him, and you had to try harder.

-It doesn’t change how he treats you, honestly. He’s not that kind of country bumpkin, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t have a little resentment held against you.

-He thinks you’re cool as hell, and you help redefine what femininity can look like to him much better than what Vil does.

-He, however, does actively become more protective of you.

-Not because he thinks you can’t fend for yourself, but because he kinda wants to show off a little.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #ace tr #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁

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natalievoncatte · 9 months ago

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Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

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cleoluvrr · 3 months ago

Text

black magnolias I - rafe cameron x reader

i gave you all my light, and i got nothing to show for it

WARNINGS: mature content; domestic violence, coercion, classism, religious trauma, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, blackmail

masterlist

the sound of old baptist hymns vibrated your bones, the drums and tambourines dancing in unison as dozens of feet stomped rhythmically. the floor of the building was littered with the bodies of women dressed in white, their plump frames covered in sheets to protect their modesty as they were prayed and shouted over by fellow churchgoers. the floorboards creaked under the weight of heavy feet and hard-bottomed dress shoes. the smell of mildew and old wood was strong, no amount of spearmint chewing gum able to mask the unpleasant scent of the damp wood that wafted into your nose with every breath.

church was the last place you wanted to be on a friday afternoon, shiny black shoes tapping against the creaking floorboards impatiently as you checked your phone for what seemed like the thirtieth time that hour. you’d prefer to be at the bait shop with your friends but ever since returning from the journey in search of the lost gold, your parents hardly let you out of their sight.

they were already convinced that your friends were a bad influence; that they were making you lose focus on school and the life they worked so hard for you to get. the one that you were making for yourself. you had scholarships and college acceptances lined up for you, a good job on figure eight, a nice boyfriend that would do almost anything for you. you were so close to losing it all because of the pogues–not that you were absolved from all responsibility. however, going missing for weeks in the middle of the caribbean while they were back at home, not even sure if you were alive or dead, only strengthened that belief.

it was strange being back in the old, wet building after so many years. your parents were always very religious, the two of them raised in the very church where you sat. and for a lot of your childhood you were too.

it was routine to attend worship sessions three times a week, your parents praying for a miracle that would never come. they thought that forcing you to come would make you just as devout as them, but it only made you hate the place more. the cult-like behavior only drove you away the older you got, the rift between you and your family growing larger the closer you got with the pogues. becoming involved with them is when your relationship with your parents began to strain.

when you met kie your sophomore year of highschool, she introduced you to the pogues. the way they lived life was the complete opposite of yours; on the edge, only worrying about the present and not the future. it was so odd to see them never concerned with what happens after highschool. kiara’s parents thought that you were a good influence on her. that if she became friends with you then she would leave the boys behind for good.

her parents were like yours in many ways; overbearing and judgemental of people they believed they were better than. instead of locking you away in a camp for troubled teens like kiara, they prayed over you day and night trying to cast out the demons that took their beloved daughter.

you wish you’d never told the truth about why you went missing for those weeks. maybe then you wouldn’t be stuck going to church every other day with a leash so tight it might as well be a noose.

it was a miracle that you graduated high school on time, and something greater than that to still have your job when you came back. pope wasn’t so lucky, and his parents never let him forget it. sometimes it felt like walking on eggshells around him when you talked about anything college related, knowing that everything he worked for blew up in his face while running behind the pogues. it felt unfair.

you both worked just as hard for everything you built, but you had connections and he didn’t. you got lucky. it was the truth even though he refused to say it and you didn’t want to admit it.

the sight of a quarter past two on your phone had you jumping out of the old wooden pew like it was on fire, silently making your exit before your parents could stop you. nobody was paying attention to you anyways, the church goers far too occupied with yet another praise break. the yelling and holy ghost-catching was distraction enough for you to slip out without being noticed. reaching up to wipe the anointing oil off your forehead, you take in a deep breath, the fresh air a relief to you after sitting in the stuffy must of the old church for almost four hours.

“yo!” you heard a familiar voice shout from a short distance. the sight of your friends in the twinkie made your face light up with a smile, jj’s head of shaggy blonde hair poking out the passenger side window as he waved you over. “don’t have all day sunday’s best, we have business to attend to!”

“shut up, jj. you aren’t even driving.” you rolled your eyes at him, shoes clicking against the concrete as you briskly walked towards the beat up van. the door shut loudly behind you as you took a seat next to pope in the back, the petticoat beneath your dress billowing dramatically against the cushioned bench.

the dark-skinned boy snickered beside you, a brown hand covering his mouth as he hid a teasing smile from your heated gaze. “i have bear mace in my bag, by the way. just thought you should know.” that only made him laugh harder, the two boys in the front joining in on the humiliation session.

you pouted silently for the rest of the ride to the shop, anxiously waiting to change into something more casual and comfortable than the outfit your mother picked out for you that morning. it made you feel out of place, even in the place that it was made for. everyone in the church wore old, dull clothes, bright colors faded from years of washing and wear and unable to afford much better. your family was always the best dressed out of the bunch, and it made you stick out like a sore thumb–more than you already did. your parents always believed that you “had to look your best to come before the lord in his house,” and so you did.

using your money on material things like pretty dresses and nail appointments just so your parents could show off in front of a church full of poor people when they were barely better off themselves made you feel sick; hearing them talk about how those people weren’t praying hard enough, how they didn’t believe in him strongly enough to receive his blessings. that their lack of devotion was the reason they couldn’t afford better for themselves.

for your parents to pretend that the reason they were in the position they were in because of their borderline-religious psychosis instead of the people you put them into rooms with because of who your ex-boyfriend’s dad was, was nauseating. your family was in that same position before you met him, and they’d be right back the moment anything went left.

you would never tell them that though.

“so, your folks ever letting you off that leash?” john b asks from the front seat, his erratic driving something you’d become used to over the years. you shrugged, the pads of your fingers tapping against the soft fabric of your dress.

“as long as i go to work, school, and…church,” it took everything in you to not gag on the word as it left your mouth. “i can do what i want.”

you heard jj scoff next to the brunette up front. “so, no.” he said, blue eyes meeting yours as he turned to meet your own. “you know, you’ll never have freedom unless you take it, y/n!”

“that’s easy for you to say, jj.” you rolled your eyes at him again, irritation rolling in on a cloud atop your head. “you said the same thing to kie. look where that got her.”

the other two boys groaned, the signs of an argument showing itself already after less than five minutes into the car ride to the bait shop.

it was routine for you and jj to butt heads. he always got everyone into life-endangering situations because of his stupid, rash decisions, and while everyone else would be mad at him for all of one day before forgiving him–you would never. you loved him just as much as the rest of the pogues, but he was selfish, immature, and never took accountability for his actions. it bothered you to no end how the rest of your friends just accepted that from him. you wanted him to be better, and he never would be if everyone just kept letting him get away with the same things over and over.

“uh, let me see…” he trails off, pretending to be lost in thought. “oh, yeah, free.”

“no, actually. i was thinking…homeless, estranged from her parents, locked up in a wilderness camp, and living in that ramshackle code violation you guys call a house.” you cut in. counting on your fingers, you list all the consequences kiara has faced after listening to jj one too many times. “i’d rather be called a demon two days a week if it means i can take showers whenever i want.”

“right. so don’t complain to us about it anymore if that’s how you’re gonna be.”

“i didn’t complain, you gave me unsolicited advice and i told you exactly why i don’t need it.”

pope nudged you gently, eyes wide as he silently begged you to stop before things got out of hand. shaking your head you lean back in the seat and let jj talk to himself for the rest of the ride, deeply uninterested in entertaining him any longer than you had to.

the car barely rolled to a stop before you were hopping out into the grass, the green earth padding your heavy footsteps as you made way to the refurbished wooden structure of jj’s house. sweat had started to trickle down the back of your neck from the layers of your attire and the heat of aggravation only made it worse.

you wanted to enjoy your weekend off, and nobody was going to ruin it for you. both of you were too proud to back down during an argument once you got up there, but you were smart enough to know when to pull back before it got to that point–jj would just have to find company with someone else for now.

as you made your way back out the door, you spotted more of the pogues sitting in the back of the old van. your hands held down the skirt of the short, cotton summer dress you wore instead of the thick material of the old one, harsh breeze sending the fabric billowing in the wind.

kiara smiled as you approached, her arms outstretched for a bone-crushing hug as soon as you were close enough. cleo and sarah joined her not long after, the three girls suffocating you with affection after not seeing them in over a week.

you’d been so caught up with work and school that it was hard to see them as much as you used to. “it’s a part of growing up,” is what your mother told you. you both knew that she only wanted to keep you busy so that you couldn't hang out with them, but you never said anything about it. you wanted to keep whatever peace you were able to make between the two of you.

“hey, pretty girl!” sarah exclaimed, her brown eyes and bright smile greeting you as she pulled away from the group embrace. “i missed you so much. i can’t believe you left us alone with these animals for so long.”

“i missed you, too” you sighed contently, hand reaching up to push hair out of your face. “my life has been so hectic lately. i feel like i barely have time to breathe anymore.”

the ride to the beach felt shorter than it usually did, the four of you busying yourself catching up as the boys sang loudly out the windows. it was favored timing that you had time off this weekend, the pogues practically begging you to come watch jj race in the enduro this year. even if you were busy, they would find a way to force you out anyway.

a large crowd of kooks and pogues took up space on the beach where the race would start, the sounds of loud cheers and bikes revving filling your ears as you approached. it was surprising that a fight hadn’t broken out yet, high tension thick in the air as bets were made before the race.

as you took in the organized chaos, your eyes caught on a familiar blond in all red not too far away. a barking laugh escaped you, the sight of topper in a full racing suit sending you into a fit of giggles. you tapped kiara’s leg, the girl joining you in doubling over when she spotted him on his bike.

“wow, i didn’t know he could look any more like a fucking idiot.” you said after catching your breath, the remnants of a grin still left on your face. “really outdid himself this time. i cannot believe you dated him.” sarah shoved you hard, sending you stumbling as you tried your hardest to hold back another fit of laughter. a deep red flush was traveling up her face, a ghost of a smile creeping it way onto her lips.

“why are we talking about my ex?” sarah rolled her eyes playfully. her arm raised to point out another person in the crowd. “yours is right there.”

freezing in place at her words, the mention of your ex-boyfriend sent a shiver down your spine. you slowly turned in the direction of where her finger raised attention to, heart stopping at the sight of a broad figure dressed in all black. you knew it all too well.

“yeah…her brother has gotta be way worse than topper.” kiara adds. you glare at her and she raises her hands in surrender. “sorry! but it's true…he literally tried to kill her–multiple times. and you. and pope. and literally did murder someone before covering it up–”

“yes, kiara, i know.” you cut her off abruptly. “i am fully aware that my ex is a murderous, abusive psycho with severe family issues. thank you for reminding all of us.” you knew she didn’t mean any harm, but it was hard to not snap at the mention of him.

you’d spent so long thinking about what happened the last time you two spoke.

your boyfriend–ex-boyfriend, knew the real reason you were missing for all that time. he would never let you live down the betrayal of pushing him off that boat to save your friends, or ignoring him for months so that you wouldn’t have to face the things you did to him. there was no reason to feel bad; the man showed his true colors and he got what he deserved. but even after what you did to him in barbados, he didn’t rat you out. he vouched for you, though you wish he never had. your time hadn’t come yet, but you were all too aware that it would be on its way.

rafe cameron did no favors–not without getting one in return.

the two of you never officially broke up, not because you didn’t want to, but because you were too afraid to face him after what you did. at the same time, he knew where to find you. if he wanted to see you, to talk to you, he would. you were pretty sure that he moved on to another girl in your absence, the man and his business no longer your concern.

“uh oh…” kiara whispered to you as your only warning before another voice made its presence. her gaze flickered between you and whoever was standing behind you, her wide and worried eyes only serving as confirmation to their identity.

when she saw you were making no moves to face the looming body just inches away from you, she opened her mouth to speak. she didn’t even get a breath out before his voice filled you, the sound sending vibrations through your bones and fear coursing through your veins.

“been a while, huh?”

swallowing, you accept your fate. avoiding him forever was impossible–you'd have to deal with him eventually.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #outerbanks rafe #obx4 #x black reader #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #cleoluvrr fics #southern gothic #dark!rafe cameron

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shycloudkitty · 7 months ago

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You're too sweet for a monster like me

Summary : Leon's drowning his pain and suffering with whiskey. But you might be his true salvation.

Pairing : Vendetta Leon! × Fem Reader (A little bit of pre vendetta)

Tags : Established relationship, self deprecating talk (Leon does with himself), mostly angst with little comfort. (But it's there) and alcoholism

A/N: Update on why I disappeared for a while. It's because things got rocky with my academics and I recently broke up :( But not to worry I'm not gonna let a little heartbreak set me back.

And for this fic I'm thinking it to be a little pre vendetta Leon, like the incidents that led to him having depression in Vendetta.

It's gonna a be short fic, may or may not write a part 2 about this. Let me know!

WC: 1.6K

Sound of whiskey getting poured in a glass fills the emptiness of the living room he was in. After all this was all he could do, the only thing he had control in his poor pathetic life.

One mission after another after another. Leon was getting tired after endless fights with the B.O.Ws, corrupt governments in countless countries that were ‘speculated’ to have a new damned virus or a bioweapon war waiting to happen.

And every damn time he was supposed to deal with it, he was supposed to do the government’s dirty work for them, he was supposed to fight every goddamned ugly creature created by the worst of mankind, he had to carry out every gut wrenching decision that government instructed him to do, everytime he was the last man standing and he was never gonna get out of this cycle.

Yes, that's right. He was just a little puppet for the government that was supposed to fight B.O.Ws for them. Someone who was blackmailed into this life and do their bidding, by of course the government.

At first, he tried to take it positively and thought of how many people he could save like he always wanted to and at such a large scale. Something he was extremely passionate about since he was a kid… saving people's lives, protecting them. That's why he wanted to be a cop and now that he was a government ‘special’ agent he would be able to do more.

But he definitely didn't expect the destruction those missions would cause on his own self too, taking every piece of his humanity, every last hope he seemed to have, gone & extinguished in the flames of every bioweapon war he was called in. He definitely didn't expect and could never have anticipated what he was getting thrown into.

When will this cycle end?

A question he thought every second of his life but never had the answer. Forced to play hero each time and with no real win, fighting was like choosing between the lesser of two evils.

He was just a weapon, just a pawn that the government moved each time when they wanted to achieve something. And why would a pawn's life matter in the grand scheme of things? A pawn was created just to be shot down. And that's what he was.

While he was lost in thoughts and his whiskey all alone. He almost missed the soft voice whispering his name, such a gentle voice calling out to him. Feeling a soft hand on his back, trying to get his attention. He turned back to see who it was… and there was the reason. You.

Soft eyes looking at him with a sympathetic smile asking him how he was or that he had eaten anything today?

Leon slowly shook his head to get out of the fog clouding his brain and blinked a few times to focus on you.

Leon's words slurred as he spoke “What?”

“I asked how are you doing today?” Your soft words of concern clearing his brain fog better, making him aware of his surroundings and himself.

Leon blinks once more and looks down at his whiskey and then back at you. “... Better than yesterday.” A lie, he was the same as yesterday.

He could see her lips twitch in a small smile as she sat down besides him on the couch and said. “You're a terrible liar when drunk…”

Leon managed a soft huff at her reply. It almost weirded him out that you could see through him, but he guessed that's what happens when you have someone who cares for you. Leon looked away, sighing deeply and replied. “I'm just tired…”

Leon heard a soft sigh, feeling the soft couch dip a bit as she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and gently held his hand. “Leon… I'm always here for you, you know that right? I may not be able to give solid advice to you, but I'm a good listener.”

You could feel him relax under your touch a bit and saw him look your way from the corner of his way, still not facing you. “...I know.”

“So, you know I'm also worried about you?”

Leon winces at that, the last thing he wanted was you to worry about his pathetic self. You already have done so much for him just staying by his side through all this. Hell, you were an angel just for putting up with him and actually loving him. You weren't supposed to be worried about him and you definitely weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

Leon clears his throat and shifts a little bit away from you although he didn't let go of your hand and says. “I…It's nothing.”

You couldn't help but frown at how closed off he was being for the last few days, you understand that his last mission was rough although he never went into details about his missions with you. And you knew he needed space to process all of it but you hated the way he was ‘processing’ his loss. Drinking, lost in thoughts and closing off when you tried to get close. It was hard for both of you.

You slowly shifted towards him again, getting close to him once again. Gently taking the whiskey glass from his hands and moving it away from him. “Leon…”

He looks back at you and he looks…lost. A raging storm of emotions present in those pretty blue eyes of his that you loved so much. “I know it's hard Leon and I'm happy to give you space to think but the way you're doing it… is making me worried.”

You took a deep breath and continued. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can't… see you like this.”

He closes his eyes and deeply sighs once more, years of weariness and defeat visible on his face. He shakes his head and whispers. “You're not supposed to worry about me…”

Leon feels soft hands cup his face gently as she replies. “Can't help it. It sorta happens when you care.”

Leon opens his eyes to see you staring at him with a soft warm smile, your faces close. He presses his forehead against yours for a while trying to calm his anxious thoughts. He then pulls you closer by your waist, pulling you in a hug and burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath. Your scent filling his senses and offering some peace that he needed to ground himself.

He often wondered what he did to deserve you? Did God or whatever the power universe has, take pity on him and decide to gift him an angel? You were always so sweet, so gentle with him, loving, caring, understanding. You were his sunshine and he couldn't look away. All he could do was soak up in the warmth that you always seemed to radiate everywhere you stepped.

You were perfect and it scared the hell out of him.

He was scared that one day you will see the monster he actually was. That one day you will wake up and see him for who he was, the things he had to do to make a living and think what a disgusting monster he was, what he truly was… not some ‘Hero’ or the ‘Golden boy’, just some monster and a weapon crafted to perfection to destroy the undead. And he hopes that day never comes.

He continues to hug you tightly to himself, his face buried in your neck as he takes deep breaths to calm himself. He then softly whispered. “You smell…like daffodils.”

The sudden comment made you chuckle a bit and kissed his cheek, hugging him tightly. “Yeah, I bought a new perfume today, didn't think you would notice. Does it smell bad?”

“... No, it smells good. It suits you.” And sighed deeply. He then whispered. “You're too sweet for me. Don't know what you see in me.”

You turned to face him and kissed his cheek. “don't say that… I see that you're a hard working, resilient person who keeps going even when the odds are stacked up against him. Whatever it is that you're going through… you can pass through it.”

He turned his head to face you, his expression softening into something more vulnerable as you say that. Clearly touched by your words. Feeling a lump rise in his throat as he closes his eyes once more and exhales shakily.

You were so…innocent. You had no idea what was going on in his head or what actually he turned into. You also had no idea about the vicious but repetitive cycle he was in.

Opening up about this life of his…would ruin such a sweet and innocent thing like you, he was sure of that. He knew you weren't a kid or anything or that you never faced hardships in your life. But this…he can't tell you about what he faces out there, what kind of ugliness his line of work shows him everyday, the dark side of humanity.

He can't taint the only ray of sunshine he ever found in his life.

You look up at him with that sweet dazzling smile, thinking he was someone ‘great’. But reality couldn't be farther from the truth.

Hello everyone! Long time no see, I'm sorry for my disappearance. I promise I will try to be regular now, I know this was short I will probably try to make a part 2? Idk but this was mostly written for my creativity to start flowing again. If you liked it please like it and reblog. I would be very grateful 😊

Fun fact: Daffodils are a sign of hope!

Thank you for reading this, hope you have a good day!

-Bella

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queenie-the-court-jester · 10 months ago

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HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #queenie writes #queenie ocs #ocs #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #Yandere oc x reader #Oc x reader #Oc #Kameron the playboy #yandere headcanons

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autumnywinter · 9 months ago

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Yandere Elliott Headcanons (Stardew Valley)

TW: Yandere behavior, suggestive content, insinuated threatened suicide

Yandere!Elliott is the pinnacle of an obsessive yandere. Of course he has some possessiveness and protectiveness too, but above all he is obsessed with you.

He's a tad bit delusional, but does occasionally have some self-awareness. He's fully aware what he's doing isn't normal, but he truly believes everything he does is for you, and his intentions are all that matters. Love is a complex thing, right?

Though he isn't the type to murder unless completely necessary in his eyes, he will do many other things "in the name of love".

Will send glares at anyone who he thinks is taking up too much of your time (when you could be spending it with him) or gets too touchy with you.

If he thinks someone is a little too interested in you, he'll gently plead as your beloved friend that they're bad news. If that doesn't work, he'll personally confront the person in question, claiming that he has blackmail, whether he's bluffing or not.

Of course, he does send love letters from a "secret admirer". Sings you constant praises and confesses all the horrible, shameful thoughts he has. But while writing in his exquisite cursive, you'll notice when it becomes more sloppy, a telltale sign he got a little too excited confessing his infatuation with you.

Stalks you very often. Whenever you're sick, there's a basket with medicine, snacks, and flowers at your doorstep, all gifted to you by your devoted secret admirer ♡

He isn't very good at hiding his obsessive tendencies. After all, who else in town writes with such delicately scripted words?

When you're deep in your friendship with Elliott, it becomes even more obvious. His face is bright red, and he has an almost drunken smile whenever you're near him. Buries his nose in your hair and inhales, always commenting how heavenly you smell, how right you feel in his arms.

Sneaks into your house while you're gone or asleep. Won't do anything but watch you, even if he's tempted to do more. Just viewing your such peaceful, serene state is enough for him. Sometimes.

Other times, he takes your belongings. He returns them--most of the time--but of course he keeps a few keepsakes, too. Underwear, lipstick/lip gloss, toothbrushes even. Despite being vanilla, this man is a freak.

Will take his time building up your affection. As much as he'd love nothing more than to sweep you off your feet immediately, he can be patient. As long as you keep being your incredible, sweet self to him.

He'd much rather not have to resort to kidnapping. He wants you to adore him as much as he adores you, and he has some self-awareness that if he kidnaps you, there's a good chance you'll hate him forever. The mere thought makes him feel terrified.

If you confess your love to him first, he won't cry, but he will be on the verge of it. This is all he could've ever wanted! He can now be as flirtatious and romantic as he'd like with you now and not be seen as creepy!

Him confessing his love first would be planned out very carefully. He'd try to seem like his usual charming and smooth self, but you'd notice how he'd occasionally stammer a little, and how his entire face is tomato-red.

Only when you're married will he seem to tone it down. He's even more obsessive than ever, but he doesn't follow your every movement as much. Not unless he grows suspicious of you. He'll be more heartbroken than genuinely angry if he finds out you've been cheating or have fallen out of love with him.

Before he met you, he was depressed and believed everyone had a soulmate but him. You are his reason for living, without you he is nothing. And he likes to think you think the same way vice versa, deep down.

Never would hurt you, but can be a little scary. He switches between loving, to hysterical, to eerily cold. Will insinuate and say terrible things when you've been distant to the point he thinks you might leave him.

"...Dearest? You know I love you, right? If you were to leave me, I really don't think I could live with myself."

"If I had it my way, you wouldn't need to ever leave the house. In fact, you don't need to. I can provide for us both. Is there any reason you insist on leaving me all day?"

"Sometimes I'm tempted to tie you up and keep you all to myself. Not that I'd actually do that, haha... maybe one day."

Just make him believe you adore him as much as he adores you, and everything will be fine! :)

#yandere #yandere elliott #elliott sdv #elliott stardew valley #stardew valley #yandere stardew valley #sdv #sdv elliott #elliot sdv #yandere x reader #elliott x reader

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lemon-lime-behavior · 15 days ago

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Yes please!! Explain more! I’m so invested in the story and kids!!!!! Also thank you for being kind 🩷

No problem!!

welp, okay, put extremely simply and probably just a little bit wrong too because its been a hot minute and I have the memory of a goldfish, here’s the gist of it:

Sanji was born the prince of a kingdome called Germa (though it’s really more of a glorified mercenary group with delusions of being a kingdom) in the North Blue, the third of four quadruplet sons. His father king judge fancied himself a scientist and wanted to make his children into supersoldiers (via genetic modification) that could lead his armies and destroy his enemies. He wanted them to be super strong, fast, have impervious metal skin, be totally obedient and have basically no emotions. Perfect soldiers!

His wife Queen Sora was not stoked about this, especially after seeing what it looked like in their firstborn daughter Reiju, so when Judge tried to pull the same thing with the quadruplets she drank a special syrum to counteract the conditioning. Unfortunately it only worked on one of the princes, Sanji, and the other three (Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji) came out modified and were trained by their father into being perfect little monsters that made Sanji’s childhood a living hell. Sora was super sick fter all that and eventually died when the princes were very young. Long story short Sanji eventually escaped with Reiju’s help, got picked up by Zeff after Tragic Backstory 2: Starvation Rock Boogaloo, and eventually joined the straw hat pirates. Fast forward some more and there’s this whole *thing* that happens with his birth family trying to blackmail him into a political marriage blah blah blah blah he’s eventually rescued but now he’s very worried that due to certain circumstanced, his genetic modifications might have just been dormant and are now awakening within him, and eventually he’ll turn out just like his siblings, which is like, one of his worst nightmares. It hasn’t fully happened yet, but who knows!

So that’s all what happens in canon. What I’m doing in my own little fankids au is imagining that the genetic mutations are in fact dormant in Sanji and while they never fully materialize in him, they do pop up in one of his children, because genetic. So Kuina has black hair (because the mods include hair color changes and if Sanji was fully modified there’s evidence his hair would’ve been black) and she has unbreakable skin and enhanced physical abilities and she has… I guess what can be described as an empathy disorder? Like she experiences emotions differently and isn’t great at understanding/mirroring emotions in others. However, I don’t believe that makes someone a monster. Sanji’s brothers are absolutely terrible people because they were raised to be that way by Judge, who is absolutely a monster himself, entirely of his own volition. Reiju is not as bad as her brothers, because she had some positive influnce from their mother Sora. Kuina is gonna grow up absolutely surrounded by love and a lot of very honorable moral conviction, so while there will be ups and downs, I think she’s gonna be all right.

#fankids au #fankid kuina #one piece spoilers #black leg sanji

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

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The Yandere Student Council

You just needed to get your schedule officialized. Having gained special permissions to take a desired course you needed the student council’s collective stamps of approval to proceed. Normally all you would need to do was slip in the necessary documents. But something seems to keep happening to yours and it just works better for you to do it in person. Thus begins you’re journey of getting the obsessed student council’s approval.

The first one you go to is the one with the easiest access –the Secretary. Gill Hunter has an absolute poker face when his boyfriend isn’t around. So you’re pleasantly surprised when he’s actually willing to hear you out. Keeping his amber eyes on you he listens to your plea for his stamp, seemingly not reacting at all he promises to help you—for a price. You have to step in for him and his boyfriend from time to time. He says it's just a week as he demands you shadow him for the day. Calling to you in his monotone voice to join him in the student council lounge. Don’t bother bringing up you’re friends or your desire to eat your lunch alone. Even as the week comes to an end and you get your stamp he has you working closely with both him and his boyfriend very closely as an honorary assistant.

“Most if not all schedules go through me, you don’t want your schedule being messed up again. Do you?”

The next one is Gill’s beloved–the Historian. June Frimroar is a different kind of person you need to get a stamp from. Where Gill strings you along with his stone-cold face and hardly hidden intentions, June will do the exact opposite. With a smile that flirts with scheming and altruism, he’ll ask for the most innocent kind of help. Only to somehow become something far more intimate and demanding of you in the first place. How else would simply taking notes during student council meetings lead to you smushed in a locker with the historian and his boyfriend? Or how you’ll be forced to help undress June whose hands inexplicably might be sprained? He’s an enigma to loosely associate with trouble, easily put off by how kind he is to you and your friends as you start spending more time with him and the rest of the student council. Certainly, those rumors of him crippling classmates for fun are far from true, right?

“Don’t you trust me, (Y/n)? Just listen to me and I’m sure everything will work out…even if that blackmail situation with your friend is completely separate.”

Like clockwork, you fall into being the student council’s lackey suddenly trusted with helping the seemingly overwhelmed Treasurer. Min Su is an odd fellow who’s been dignified a living legend with his accounting possibilities; rumored to casually be hired by the government a couple of times. So it's odd that he suddenly must have you spending your club hours documenting receipts. He’s so apologetic and jumpy that you don’t feel right questioning him. So it's normal that he has a fierce blush on his face as you take the records from his hand. Or the little noises of excitement pleasure he seems to have when you lean over him to admire his speed as he’s calculating the books. He’s likely to forget that you needed to get his stamp until you off-handedly mention how you’re going to miss him when you get that stamp.

“Oh, you wanted that? I-I’m happy to give it to you, n-no problem! But you’ll still visit me right?”

At this point, your presence is much more normalized in the student council quarters, and naturally, the Sergeant of Arms or more well known as the student council’s hype man is happy to welcome you. Popular beyond belief Roman Ferris arguably has the largest fan and friend base in the entire council. Knowing everything about everyone he already knows what you’re asking for and he’s cheekily telling you he’s already prepared how you’re going to get it. If you thought Gill was forward then you’d be mistaken Roman straight-up demands every weekend that you come with him on a date. Movies, restaurants, ice cream, trips to the park, he’s doing it all with you. Demanding you dress up for these ‘definitely not dates’, hold his hand while you walk, and smile at him only him when you pose for the camera. It's odd how he knows your every like and dislike, always ordering for you and smiling ominously when you ask. But he’s definitely not giving you this stamp if you suddenly stop coming to his dates hangouts, even if he promised he would. It’d be bad if the whole student body considered you a harlot for playing with the golden boy’s feelings. So just smile while you eat your favorites and keep your mouth sealed about your suspicions.

“Don’t worry about it babe, I already know just how you like it! Don’t worry how I know~ You’re so cute when you're well-fed!”

Practically cemented to your unwritten obligation the Vice President is well aware of what you’re after. Spencer Lyle will wait until the end of the day mindlessly stamping your document as he scrambles through his hefty pile of paperwork. Bags under his eyes and his lids dropping dangerously you figure you’ll help him, already familiar with the kind of work he was doing anyway. He thanks you when you eventually wake him up and from then on something sinister a friendship is born. Suddenly he’s coming up to you in your classes, during lunches keeping you talking casually as he leads you to the student council room. You were going there anyway, right? He’s just the perfect friend for you. Great at warding off bullying fans or teachers that get a little too snippy, he becomes your go-to friend. Not too popular but well-respected feared by the student body; totally perfect for relying on him to be relatable. Completely complacent with letting him into your life and it feels so normal now that he rings your dorm bell for an early morning. You know him so well so it's natural he does the same.

“Hey, you ready to go cupcake? Bags under my eyes? Yeah, I was up all night protecting you doing council stuff, you know how I work.”

Last but certainly not least the Student Council President: Lucoa Grander the college’s prodigy cryptid. Known to be a living genius and prominent underground business personality it seems only natural that he gets such a powerful, prestigious position. He is such a celebrity you go to Spencer to deliver your schedule confirmation only to receive a disappointing answer. Apparently, the president’s only willing to stamp yours personally, and thus your witchhunt for the illusive president begins. Searching high and low, stringing on his fan base’s own timeline and the other council members’ accounts you try to find him. But after a while, you give up fully prepared to abandon your desired course to have the blue-haired pierced-up president mysteriously showing up. He greets you so casually, sitting next to you as he asks mundane questions. When you finally ask for his stamp he gives it to you…on a major condition.

“We’ve been looking to widen our ranks and I’ve we’ve been keeping a close eye on you. And we’re thinking of making you an honorary member–it's a new position to diversify our team. You’ll get your stamp this way and we get you our beloved a new member that’s fair enough isn’t it?”

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arieswritez · 1 year ago

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What do you think about Nolan? 😳

i think!!!!!

afab! reader; yandere nolan would baby trap you :)

cw; stealthing, baby trapping, breeding kink, yandere!nolan

if you menstruate, he'd innocently ask when your next period is. just to be prepared ofc! <3 and he is! always bringing you pads and treats you might be craving. going as far as to fly to other countries to get goodies in the most authentic way possible! lays in bed with you and cuddles his warm body against yours when you're having cramps or when you're just feeling sluggish and beat!

but . . unbeknownst to you: now he knows when you ovulate <3

and despite you climbing him like a tree, you always make sure to have protection. it's too risky without it. but that's nothing nolan can't work with <3 you act as if you're in heat: presenting yourself to him with your back arched and your hands on your pretty little cunt, spreading yourself open . . as if you needed to entice him anymore. when he places his hands on your feverish skin and adjusts you, the condom has already been slipped off of his cock and you're way too horny to notice teehee <3

gn!reader or amab!reader:

cw; power imbalance, inappropriate relationships, manipulation, blackmail, non-con, cheating (srry debbie ily), faux-incest, daddy kink

yandere!nolan would pretend to be your mentor :) you're a young, aspiring hero and you can't believe omni-man believes in you enough to take you under his wing!! the respect you have for him is immense and you like that he doesn't hold back. often, you're left with so many bruises on your body from training you can't tell which are accidental - from scuffs or bad landings - or which are from the amount of times he's pummeled you.

you're not cowed by his violence. you know he means well. so you start to use your injuries a point of reference for how far you've come. someday, you tell yourself, you'll remember this day and know these were all worth it. so you make it a habit to stare at the bruises in the mirror: whenever you catch sight of them in the showers / locker room of the guardians of the globe training facility.

luckily for nolan, you're not as observant as you should be. but he can fix that. he'll make sure you're as aware of your surroundings as he is when he's done with you.

because any other hero, any good hero, would be able to tell when they're not alone. a good hero would be able to spot nolan peeking around the corner as you stare at your battered body, his cock in hand :)

nolan's a patient man.

he can wait until he's earned your trust enough to confide in him. and predictably, you do. the two of you have a conversation in which you spill the reason why you want to become a hero in the first place. your parents weren't good people. a tale as old as time. in and out of jail for as long as you remember and you'd never had a good role model in your life until nolan.

and with those beautiful, innocent eyes, you look at him and confess he's like a dad to you.

nolan doesn't think he'll ever tire coming to the memory.

and he'll never let you live it down. no, no, no. how could he?

he hyperfixates on the thought and begins to overstep. acting less like a mentor and more like a controlling father. innocent things at first. no, you can't go out with your friends. we have training, remember?

and no, you don't remember. you specifically told him you wouldn't be free. but he won't hear it. says it's an emergency. that being a good hero sometimes means sacrificing personal time.

then, when you begin to show romantic interest in someone, love is a distraction. you're young. don't waste your time.

and when you've had enough of his intrusive behavior, behavior you have no choice but to call him out on. . nervously, but you do it nonetheless, he sends you a simple message that makes you crawl back to him.

do you want this or not?

you do.

more than anything.

so you agree to go to his house and talk. you sit with him and accept the beer he gives you. and at first, he's apologetic. but the more he drinks, the more the facade slips. he scoots closer towards you on the couch, lays his hand on your thigh, and tells you that he just wants to keep you safe. wants to make sure you're the best of the best but you have to trust him. and all you do is freeze and stare, only coming to your senses when he begins to lean in. with a racing heart, you try to turn away from the smell of beer on his breath, pushing at his chest, saying it's late. you should go. you should really go. but all nolan does is grab you by the wrists and demand you look at him.

he's like a dad to you, remember? it's what you said. you're supposed to listen to him. you're supposed to obey and do what he says. nolan knows what's best for you, why can't you see that? and if you want him to keep guiding you, protecting you, if you don't want him to abandon you like your good for nothing parents did, you'll do this for him.

so you get on your knees and watch as he unbuckles his belt in a hurry. you allow him to grab you by the nape of the neck and force your face down to swallow his cock. your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone: forced against neatly trimmed, greying pubes as you gag whenever his hips fervently move.

but don't worry, as your mentor, he'll make sure you learn how to swallow a cock properly <3

#invincible #nolan grayson #nolan grayson x reader #omni man #omni man x reader #dilf fuckers RISE!#yandere nolan grayson #yandere nolan grayson x reader #invincible x reader

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sixosix · 1 year ago

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FOR YOU I WOULD FALL FROM GRACE | LYNEY

warnings blackmailing lol… AETHER PAIMON!!! 3.6k words!

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

The bell chimes as the door of the flower shop swings open, and in comes strutting in Rosalie, all dazzling smiles and ostentatious jewelry. Even now, her brown locks are curled to perfection, framing her face beautifully. Even across her, you feel like you’re standing next to an Archon.

This time around, you don’t accidentally freeze the pot of flowers you’re holding from her bursting inside. But you might again tomorrow; Rosalie loves to test you.

Rosalie hums in approval. “Hm, very good, very good. Any customers today, ma chérie?”

“Just one. That guy really wanted to see you,” you reply, eyes fluttering shut as the woman ruffles your hair. You repress the urge to lean into it. “Was he the same guy you met in Café Lutece?”

Her face twists unpleasantly, haunted. “Oh, dear. Thank goodness I wasn’t here. Keep scaring him off.”

You bow your head. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Rosalie bent the law just to keep you, and you’re more than grateful for her generosity. In exchange, you pledged to work diligently for her. You knew that even your hardest efforts couldn't compare to the years of food and shelter she had provided, but this was the least you could do after she didn’t once hesitate to take you in when you confessed you were stranded and alone.

At first, you wanted to repay her by helping out in the kitchen, but you later find that your Vision isn’t the most perfect fit for it. Rosalie’s teeth could shatter from the amount of bread you’ve frozen at the slightest mistake. Your experience in battle doesn’t translate well in handling baking—the heat makes your actions rougher than intended. You get frustrated when you don’t get the results you want. You treat the kitchen like a battlefield. Your hands are too cold; they can’t handle the warm and hot temperatures well.

And the sight of fire… You don’t react to it nicely.

Rosalie suggested you help out in the flower shop. The thought of kneeling over for hours sounds like torture to the posture and grace you’ve perfected over the years, but you can’t quite be picky with under-the-table jobs and nice people who are willing to take care of an orphan who doesn’t know how to act like a normal child.

At least, with gardening, you’ve trained yourself to be more gentle with how you handle living beings. Your hands will always be calloused; they will always have the muscle memory of carrying weighty weapons and tossing them around like sticks—an immutable trait. But you’re trying.

Although Fontaine could never be the safest, it’s safer here. The Fatui don’t have reason to spy against a local flower shop; you’re away from prying eyes, and it isn’t too big of a change because this is still your home.

And you have been safe for years. Rosalie is nothing like The Knave. They have the same fierce protectiveness, but Rosalie is much warmer and open with her fondness, a stark difference from The Knave’s distance. You’re not quite sure how to act around either of them.

You try not to get yourself attached to Rosalie despite her endless hospitality. So long as you don’t reveal your past affiliations and the reason why your hands are rough and why your affections are clumsy, she wouldn’t throw you out. But if she ever does… those are what no attachments are for. You learned your lesson from last time.

“I’ll cook us dinner,” Rosalie sings, heading towards the back of the counter, where it’s connected to her house.

You return to your flower.

You were the one who planted it, and it pleases you to no end that it’s growing healthily. This is the first flower you managed to not— well, kill right off the bat. Or freeze right off the bat, really. The elemental power from your Vision is hard to control, and it certainly doesn’t help that you aren’t doing anything to do something about it, too afraid to even try.

The Lumidouce Bell. It means something about a desire to return. It speaks to you, but not because you long for it—gods no—but because you’ve seen it before. It was probably in a dream, or perhaps a vase back at home, maybe in the middle of the large dining table or in between the fingers of someone with lilac eyes.

The door lashes out once again, the familiar chime ringing in your ears. It had only been two hours since the last customer. Business is doing well today. In comes a floating pixie and a blond with a glow of gold. He’s furious.

“Paimon doesn’t know…” the pixie says, floating behind. “All she knows is that you don’t want to get involved with the Fatui but—” Your hands falter around the petals, “—they said their goals were different, right? What are we doing here again?”

“Paimon,” the blond sighs, and only then do you notice he’s holding a flower. It’s crushed and dried, but it’s supposed to resemble the pot of Lumidouce Bell by your side. “We can’t trust them just like that. We don’t know them.”

“Really…? You think so? Paimon doesn’t think they’re bad people.”

“They’re hiding a lot of things. I don’t want secrets—not anymore. Lyney and Lynette may seem harmless now, but once the time comes where our goals oppose each other’s—well.”

It’s been a while since you heard those names. A rush of nostalgia fills you. You hear about them in passing when your (rare) customers gush about their performances, or ladies passing by giggle about the charming young man in the center of the stage, but that’s about it. To think that these two know that they’re affiliated with the Fatui…

Who are they? They look so familiar, like you’ve seen them once and then never again. Were they sent here? What did they do to be involved with the Fatui? No ordinary person would casually indulge in a conversation about the Fatui like that. There is usually a lot more secretive whispers and cautious glances around the crowd.

“Paimon gets it now,” she says, but she doesn’t look too happy with it. It seems she’s really fond of the twins—which you know all too well.

“Besides,” Aether pats her head, then hands her the flower, wondering out loud, “We don’t even know what this flower means.”

As if following a poorly-written script, both pairs of eyes direct to yours. Like they were expecting you to listen in just for that. At your stunned silence, they wait patiently.

“Um—yes. Lumidouce Bells often mean separation or the wish for reunion,” you recite like a good florist, recalling the words straight from the textbook. “Would you like a copy of a book about Fontaine’s Floral Language, sir?”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No thanks. Was just curious.”

The pixie nods her head, studying the flower in her hand. “Yeah! For all we know, this could’ve been some secret code! Apparently not. But wish for reunion…? Paimon heard Lyney only uses that flower. Does he know about its meaning?”

That name again. It seems that their main topic this afternoon is the twins. You want to crawl out of your skin and bury yourself in the soil. You thought you had moved on, but just hearing about him feels as if listening to strangers talk about a friend you’ve lost—not too far off from the truth. The guilt has not left you since; who were you kidding?

“He probably doesn’t mean anything by it,” the boy murmurs. “I mean—I don’t know. I don’t know anything about them. Is Lyney truly a magician? Is Lyney even his name?”

“Snezhevich,” you murmur out of instinct. Son of snow. You’re surprised that you even remember; it’s been years since you tasted the word on your tongue.

The blond hair and the floating pixie are staring right at you, the man slamming an arm on the counter desk and the little one moving her hands to her hips. “How do you know that?” he asks.

You pale. “I—excuse me?”

“I heard it,” he says. “Those surnames… They’re for the orphans in the House. How do you know that?”

Your heart pounds. You want to ask him the same question, but then, upon closer inspection, you realize why they’re familiar. They’re the Traveler and his travel companion, posted all over magazines. You’ve used one of those papers as placemats for dirty work involving soil, catching glimpses of their faces. The Outlander, the hero, Aether, having come all the way from Mondstadt—of course he knows about the Fatui; he has probably gotten himself involved more than you have.

“Don’t think about lying,” Aether warns at your silence.

Weakly, you say, “Is—is it not… in their introductions?”

“No.” And, well, honestly, that was a stupid cover, so you should’ve expected that. They’re only for the orphans, and he’s right. Even when he’s not a local, he seems to know his facts. Locals are getting smarter, dammit.

“Lyney told me,” is what you decide on after a split-second of contemplation. Aether isn’t giving you enough time to come up with a lie here.

“Told you?” Aether narrows his eyes, studying your face. “Why would he tell you about that? He hasn’t even told me. Are you two close?”

Paimon gasps before you can comment about how Aether sounded like an insecure boyfriend. “Is it…like that?”

You blink at her, lost. “What? Like what?”

At Aether’s conspiratorial expression, your eyes dart between the two of them warily. “What are you two on about?”

“Are you and Lyney romantically involved?”

Romantically involved. You think back to all those sidelong glances and allusive remarks. Lyney was definitely and monumentally involved in your life, but romantically? Even the word feels forbidden. Not once have you thought about romance throughout your entire experience as a child under the protection of the House.

Your face feels like lava, and their crowded attention has you feeling even more embarrassed. “How could you even come up with that? Mortifying! You’re both wrong!”

“What else would it be? You seem to know him well.” Then, much to your embarrassment, Aether adds, “And you’re not bad-looking.”

Is the Outlander calling you pretty enough for Lyney to date you? Right now? Just thinking about the implications has your mind screeching to a halt. “No! I was an orphan there!”

“Ah,” Aether grins widely, “I knew it.”

“Gods,” you mutter, burning. Of course he already figured it out. But was that really necessary? “Is this how you interrogate everyone? Embarrassing them to death?”

Aether shrugs. “If it works, it works.” At whatever expression you must be making, he adds, “And I was just kidding about the romantically involved thing. I mean, unless you aren’t denying it. By the look on your face—”

“Enough. Just spit it out. What do you want?” You’ve gotten awfully rusty with dealing with people. Then again, you were rarely sent out on missions in the first place, so this blame is not for you to take. You curse out The Knave’s name and then feel terrible about it.

“What are you even doing here, huh? Undercover?” Paimon sneers. She fails to look even slightly intimidating. “Do you own this shop?”

“No. I work here.”

“Does your boss know about the whole Fatui thing?” Aether asks. You stare at him warily. If he dares to harm Rosalie, you won’t hesitate to fight dirty. “That seems like a no. If you cooperate with me, I won’t tell whoever is taking care of you.”

“You’re blackmailing me.” You laugh dryly. “I guess I can never run from my past for too long; I just didn’t think I’d be blackmailed by the Outlander himself to face it.”

Aether has at least the decency to look a bit guilty.

“Why do you want to know about the twins so bad?”

Aether’s shoulders hike up to his ears just a little. “Lyney and Lynette… they’re very dependent on each other, aren’t they? The Fatui are not good people—they’re powerful ones, too, and getting involved with power like that while you have your family,” Aether’s expression does something complicated, “It never ends well.”

“You’re blackmailing me into helping the twins out?”

“I’m not trying to— Listen, I just need to know if they’re hiding something else from me. Something that tells me that I shouldn’t be trusting them, then we’ll decide if I’m helping them out or not.”

…Something else? “They already told you a lot, haven’t they? You just have trust issues, hero.”

“It’s perfectly reasonable to have trust issues as a hero.”

Aether inches closer. Your hand twitches by your side, instincts screaming at you to pull out your weapon and flee; the man before you is danger, but you don’t.

Aether hums at your wariness. “And you talk like you know them well. Do you have something you want to say to me, retired Fatuus?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I used to be an orphan in the House of the Hearth,” you say, not wavering with how he holds your gaze. This is no lie; you have no reason to falter. “But that’s not my life anymore. For all I know, they’ve completely changed goals.”

Aether’s shoulder sags because he knows you’re right. There wouldn’t be a way for you to know if the House is still operating with the same objective. If he’d really believe the words of a former Fatuus is a completely different story, however.

Aether sighs. “…It’s not right to call me a hero in this situation.”

“Oh?”

“I’m doing this for selfish reasons.”

Aether hesitates. Does he think you know nothing about selfishness? You ran from the House that took care of you because of your cowardice. You’re plenty familiar with selfishness.

“Mhm,” Paimon nods, “the Traveler wants to know if they’re hiding something about his sister.”

“Paimon,” Aether admonishes, then wilts.

“Oh no!” The fairy’s face pales, her hands coming up to her mouth. “Was Paimon not supposed to say it right away?”

“It’s fine.” It’s not fine. You can see it in the lines between Aether’s brows, his tense shoulders, and his sharp glare to the floor. “You already blurted it anyway.”

“Your sister,” you repeat, conjuring an image of a girl with the same gold as Aether, the same hardheaded determination. What is it with you and getting into trouble with brothers? “I’ve never heard anything about your sister during my time there.”

Aether shrugs. “That doesn’t surprise me. I only arrived here not too long ago, and from what I’m getting, you were already out of the orphanage.”

“So you think Lyney knows something?”

“I know The Knave knows something.”

How strange. Aether’s certainty that their ‘Father’ would confide in them everything, imply that Lyney is privy to information that only the Harbingers would keep to themselves.

You had this same thought before: Lyney, someday Harbinger, someday who would take Arlecchino’s throne. Now, you feel empty thinking about it. It used to fill you with so much rage before.

You turn away from Aether so he won’t see your face. Your previous affiliation with the House shouldn’t matter anymore—you’ve long since abandoned that life. You shouldn’t care about what the upstanding hero would want with them.

You shouldn’t.

Yet you end up fearing what this Outlander will do if they find out the darker secrets of the House that the orphans have to task themselves with. It’s never the children’s fault. But as a hero in a storybook, they rarely have pity for the bad guys.

If Aether finds out anything remotely wrong, what would he do to them…?

You sigh heavily. “I’ll prove to you that you’re wrong about whatever you think of them.”

Aether smiles. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Rosalie comes out of the counter’s back door a few moments later, holding two plates of dinner. She stares blankly at your frozen figure and Aether’s slack posture.

She hands you the plates. “I’ll get two more.”

Rosalie disappears back into the kitchen, a bright smile on her face as she leaves the scene. There was a skip in her step, too.

You settle the plates down in front of Aether and Paimon. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Paimon gasps in delight.

When Rosalie comes back out, she’s fluttering all over the place, gushing over how adorable your new friends are. She then goes into a tangent about how she was right in telling you that you have a charming personality, and it was about time people realized that.

“Rosalie,” you murmur, steaming from the ears.

Rosalie laughs heartily. “Oh, you’re so cute. Do you kids have any plans tonight?”

Aether casts you a glance. “We’re going to watch Lyney the Magician’s show tonight if that’s alright.”

You breathe in deeply. Aether sure works fast. You haven’t even prepared yourself for the little chance you were going to be forced to face Lyney again. You expected it on much more personal, grudge-driven circumstances, with Lyney taking you in for The Knave to deal with.

Rosalie sips from her glass, turning to you. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to watch it, mon ange? I also would have taken you to watch Mr. Lyney.”

“They came over to give me their spare ticket,” you say before she can start thinking deeply about Lyney, but it doesn’t work.

“Ah, I see! Well, have fun.” She grins. “I’ve heard only good things about Mr. Lyney.”

You down the rest of your drink, wishing it was the strong taste of alcohol instead of the sugary sweet Fonta.

Rosalie gasps, hands on the table as she stands. “Oh! Let’s get you changed for tonight’s show! What if Mr. Lyney’s show picks you as a chosen participant? You have to make him and the audience fall in love with you, Y/N!”

“None of those are necessary,” you say, nearing a whine. It’s embarrassing to have her say that while Aether and Paimon are right in front.

“This is the first time you’re going out—let me please dress you up!” Sometimes, Rosalie acts more like a big sister than a mother.

Rosalie turns to Aether, already pushing you out of your chair. “Give us ten.”

Aether is smiling, looking as if holding in laughter. “Don’t worry. We aren’t going anywhere; we made a deal.”

After rummaging through closets and spilling dresses all over Rosalie’s bed, you're soon ushered out of the door. You witness Paimon's jaw dropping and Aether's eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

“Whoa…!” Paimon gasps.

“Please spare me from any more comments,” you say, face hot.

Your dress, while nothing as grand as the rest of richer Fontaine women, is still grander than your loose blouse from before. It flows all the way down and drapes gracefully down your legs in a deep shade that blends in seamlessly with those who walk past the busy streets of Fontaine.

Thankfully, they oblige. You can’t handle any more—too much have you a puddle on the spot, and in the most humiliating way possible. Rosalie bids you all farewell, telling Aether to bring you back home before ten.

“I don’t think you can be home before ten,” Aether mutters as he leads you outside.

You hide behind his figure, uneasy from the curious stares of the passersby. It could be because you’re walking next to the renowned Traveler, but a part of you thinks that they know who you are. For all you know, there could be wanted posters of your face, and you wouldn’t know because you don’t go outside.

Aether turns to you. “Can you move comfortably?”

“This corset is a little too tight.”

Aether takes your hand and leads you somewhere off to the side, away from any onlookers. Then, he moves behind you and helps with loosening the corset. You look off to the side and swear that you saw a figure dash past, as nimble as a cat, but that was probably nothing.

“Should we rip off the length, too?” Paimon asks.

“No!” you exclaim, startling the two. “No, it’s fine. This is not my dress. Are you going to make me fight Lyney?”

Aether shrugs. “If worse comes to worse.”

“I’m in heels.”

“If worse comes to worse,” Aether repeats, tying the ends in a neat little ribbon.

“I wasn’t aware that you would start blackmailing me this early on.”

Aether smiles grimly. “There are no warnings when it comes to that.”

You perform a twirl in the new adjustments, twisting around, finding it much more breathable than compared to when Rosalie treated it like her usual fitting.

“Good?” Aether asks.

“Good.”

The conversation doesn’t die down, but it’s much more stiff than before. Paimon tells you that she liked your muddy apron better, and you wish you could agree. But this is who you really are. Nothing genuine like the soil staining your washed-out apron and your hands, or the Lumidouce Bell by the counter you’ve watched grow, but a dress that doesn’t belong to you for a mission that you have to fulfill to save other people who wouldn’t even recognize what you’ve done.

The Opera Epiclese, though you’d never been, looks the same as all the stories you’ve heard about it. Filled with a lively audience, the atmosphere dimmed, and your breath held in anticipation as Aether led you to vacant seats. You sit on Paimon’s supposed seat.

You face Aether. “What now? What do you want me to do? Strut back into their lives and demand all their Fatui secrets as if I never left?” you whisper hastily as all the lights flicker off.

A spotlight centers on the stage.

Aether nestles into his seat. “Prove to me that I can trust them just as much as you do. Who knows, you might get something out of this, too.”

BEFORE YOU STOP READING!! LOOK AT ONCE AGAIN ANOTHER AMAZING FANART BY OUR FAVORITE akagi0021

scene of paimon's "whoa...!" and aether demanding "how do you know that?" !!!!!! 😭😭😭❤️❤️

sorry if my inherent attraction to aether came out a bit for some scenes here. the heart can’t help but want what it wants… and that includes what my fingers end up typing whenever aether is on the same docs LOL

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny

#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #x reader #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

Text

Better Than Revenge

Kinktober Day 7- Fear Play

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- noncon, kidnapping, violence, drugging, mentions of sexual assault, revenge porn, non-consensual picture taking, stalking, forced breeding, blackmail, AFAB!reader, bondage, humiliation, pain play, degradation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI

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You enjoyed your time at college. You made many new friends, partied, joined clubs, and learned a little along the way. It was fun for a freshly eighteen-year-old, but by the time the end of your senior year came, you were ready to move on to adult life. Since then, you don’t think about college much in your daily life. Your college friends are now just your friends, and your better days are still to come, not behind you.

That’s not to say you never think fondly back on a memory or two here and there, but you’re so busy with your job at the DA’s office that you don’t have time to be hung up on the past. Others, you’ve found, do still live in the past.

Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief psychiatrist at Arkham took notice of you when you first started working for the DA. Crane was not well-liked by your boss, seeing as he always managed a way to get the criminals you were trying to put behind bars an insanity plea. While he was a frustrating legal enemy, you never had anything to do with the man outside of the courtroom, or so you thought.

After a long day of court and debating with Crane, you were walking home from the office late when a metal pipe cracked over your head and you fell to the wet pavement, out cold. When you woke, you found yourself in a damp, cold warehouse with Dr. Crane looking on from a chair, dressed in a lab coat. Fear spikes in your stomach when you see the man in front of you. Being in your position, there’s only one explanation for why he would be here as well, though you can’t imagine why.

You are bound and gagged; your arms are wrenched in an uncomfortable position above your head and your wrists are tied to a chain from the ceiling. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, effectively suppressing any screams. Your toes just barely touch the floor, which puts a horrible strain on your arms, but there is no use fighting against the bonds.

When Crane notices you regain consciousness, he stands from his chair and approaches you. He gets close to your face and looks into your slightly hazy and unfocused eyes, his own piercing ones making you tremble under his gaze.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, voice eerily soothing for a kidnapper. “You know, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to walk alone at night. This city’s a dangerous place, you never know what kind of creeps could be lurking in the shadows.”

He grins a sick, vile grin that makes your skin crawl. Crane reaches out and tips your chin up with his cold pointer finger. He moves your face from side to side, examining you, checking for any damage he might have done. His thumb traces the duct tape over your mouth, finding the seam of your lips and touching you like a doll.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept your looks with how you used to party,” he says casually. You furrow your brows in confusion but you’re unable to question him. “Though I’m sure your liver isn’t what it used to be.”

Before you can ponder his words, Crane walks behind you and you can hear the sound of metal tools clattering together. When he reappears, he is holding a pair of sheers and wears a sadistic smirk. He roughly grabs the hem of your blouse and cuts it up the middle, exposing your bra. He then cuts the fabric of the sleeves so the garment falls to the floor, leaving you topless.

You want to fight back to get this sick creep off of you, but you figure it’s best not to provoke the man with scissors against your skin. Instead, you’re subjected to his eyes ogling you.

“What a thing to wear to work,” he says, amused. “I’m sure this can’t be comfortable. Were you wearing it for an occasion?” he asks, fingers tracing the delicate lace of the band. “Surely not a date. I know you don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think you’re the type of girl to put out on the first date.”

You wonder how he could know you don’t have a boyfriend when the realization hits you. He knew what path you took on your way home, he knew what time you’d be leaving the office, and he knew details of your private life that you haven’t shared with anyone but your friends. He’s been stalking you.

“Maybe you had other plans for lunch with your boss this afternoon. Dent is quite the looker, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. What his poor wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” he asks with a smirk. “You really haven't changed.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not sure what any of this means.

Crane then moves the sheers to the hem of your skirt and makes a small cut. Instead of cutting all the way up like he did with your blouse, he drops the scissors, grasps the skirt, and starts to slowly tear it. The sound of the fabric ripping is deafening in the near-silent warehouse, and fear threatens to rise in your throat as he creeps up your thigh. His eyes watch the exposed skin intently as he undresses you, clearly gaining some kind of pleasure from this. When he reaches the top, he lets the skirt fall at your feet and now has an unobstructed view of your matching underwear set.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “what a surprise. I guess you did have big plans.”

He slips his finger underneath the elastic band of your panties and snaps them back against your hip, making you jump. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the cold air and you squirm as you try in vain to hide yourself.

“You don’t mind if I look under these, do you?” he asks, tugging on your panties again.

Up to this point, you haven’t protested, figuring it was better to cooperate, but you can’t let him violate you like this. You let out a muffled “no” and violently shake your head as you try to move away from his touch. Crane only laughs and moves closer to you. You kick him in the knee and he curses, but it doesn’t do much to deter him.

“You can’t fight me off. All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself,” he hisses. You try to scream, but with the duct tape sealing your lips, it’s no use. “Do you have something to say?”

You plead with your eyes and he reaches up to grasp the edge of the duct tape, but he takes it as an opportunity to be more cruel. He rips the tape from your lips, surely taking skin with it.

“Help!” you scream, “Somebody help me!”

Instead of ordering you to be quiet or suppressing your screams, Crane just laughs.

“Scream all you want, no one’s going to hear you. Not like anyone would care if the world was down one useless bimbo anyway.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?” you shout, your throat feeling raw from the strain.

Anger flashes in Crane’s eyes and his jaw clenches. You continue to thrash and scream, and despite what he said about no one caring, he tightly grabs your waist and steps on your foot to keep you from moving. His face is now only inches from yours and you get the idea to spit into his face. It won’t do much, but it’s the only thing you can do to deter him.

Crane hisses and lets go of your waist to wipe the spit out of his eyes, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are glassy and his dark eyelashes are clumped together.

“You fucking bitch,” he bites. “You’re lucky I haven’t hurt you yet.”

The vague threat does frighten you, but you have many questions that you demand answers to.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Crane?” you ask again.

He laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t know. You probably have no clue what you’ve done to me. The hell you put me through.”

He leans his weight on the foot crushing yours and when you wince, he grabs your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your mouth open.

“I don’t know,” you say as best you can.

“You don’t remember college?” he asks. “Your sorority sisters and their fucking jock boyfriends tormenting me. How for years you made my life a living hell just for existing outside of your perfect little bubble.”

His face is twisted into a snarl now as he recounts the memories that drove him to his actions tonight. “I thought the bullying would be over when I got to college but it was so much worse. My door would get vandalized every fucking day with insults and crude images. You and your group of whores spread all kinds of rumors that I was crazy. You said I was a psychopath, a pervert, a sadistic killer who got off on seeing women in fear. Everyone believed it. Everyone.”

As he explained his story, your memory was jogged. You remember a short, skinny guy from college who wore thick-framed glasses and carried a satchel to class. He was awkward, made uncomfortable eye contact, and often made himself the target of ridicule. He had a vast knowledge of science and medicine and was very interested in the mind’s reaction to fear. You never knew his name, only ever referring to him as “Peeping Tom”, which was kind in comparison to some of your friends’ nicknames for him.

“I was an outcast for four fucking years. I couldn’t transfer, I couldn’t afford any other school. Not like you could ever understand that. I accepted that I was a social pariah, but then you went and ruined my fucking life even more,” he hisses.

You didn’t notice the knife in his hand until the point was against your chest, too lost in his rage-filled eyes. You now remember more of what he’s saying and you want to apologize and assure him that you’ve changed, but he seems past the point of reason.

“October 2nd, 1997. I was in my room studying for an exam when you showed up at my door. You were clearly drunk and you came onto me. You promised me all kinds of things and pushed me onto my bed and sat on my lap. You kissed me and took off my shirt, then put your hand down my pants and took my dick out. That’s when your hoard of sluts and every guy you’ve ever fucked barged into my room and took pictures. They spread them to everyone, and it was all because of you.” he hissed. “I was labeled the creep, the predator, the pathetic virgin who thought he could make it with a sorority girl and it was all your fault.”

The man in front of you was shaking with anger, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the memory. The blade trembled in his hand and dug slightly into your skin, but the pain from the knife was overpowered by the icy feeling of fear.

“Jonathan,” you say meekly, “That was almost a decade ago. I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I don’t even remember it. I promise I’ve changed.”

“You don’t remember it, that’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re never going to forget again.”

You whimper in fear as he brings the knife up to your neck. The blade bites at your skin, catching when you take a breath.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be such a waste of a warm hole.”

His words are disgusting and degrading. They make you want to shiver out of your own skin and run as far away from him as possible. Luckily, he removes the knife from your neck and takes a small step back.

Crane reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small digital camera. Your eyes widen when you see it, immediately catching on to what he plans to do to you. He powers the camera on and points it at you, smiling when he sees your pixilated form on the display. He clicks the shutter and a light flashes.

He lowers the camera from his face to reveal a wicked smirk. "It doesn't feel too good, does it?" he asks. "Well it's about to get a lot worse for you."

He kicks your bare ankle with his foot, making you wince as your legs spread. He laughs cruelly and does the same to the other foot. Your legs are open uncomfortably, giving him easy access to what you're desperate to hide from him.

His fingers, long and cold, push through your folds and into your cunt without warning or preparation. He fingers you despite being dry to start, but you slowly get wetter in response to the intrusion.

"Still such a slut even after all this time," he says. "I'm not surprised you're so loose."

He fingers you roughly, seemingly unsure of how to do it, or maybe he just cares that little for your comfort. His nails catch on the ridges inside of you and the poking of his fingers scissoring make you wince. Thankfully he got his fill of that quickly, and pulled out his wet fingers.

He brings them to his nose to sniff, then wipes your wetness off on his pants. "Smells like whore," he says.

Without any further words, Crane reaches down and grabs you by your ankle and pulls it off the floor. You yelp as you lose your balance and your bonds tug on your shoulders. Crane then hooks your foot on a strap that also comes from the ceiling. He then does the same to your other leg.

Now you're suspended in the air, cunt on display for him and helpless. Crane takes out the camera again and takes more pictures of you spread out.

"I have waited so long for this."

Crane wears a sick, wicked grin that does not falter as stands between your spread legs. His hands work his fly open and quickly he frees his cock. It's already hard and the flushed tip is leaking, just from the torture he's inflicting onto you.

"I knew after that night that you would be my first," he says as he rubs his head through your folds. "Weather you wanted to be or not."

Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes into you bare. He goes slow, likely for his own sake so he doesn’t cum too soon, but whatever mercy he shows you doesn’t provide any comfort.

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he begins to rut. Erratic, inexperienced thrusts to chase his own pleasure inside of being conscientious of yours. His eyes are half lidded and laser-focused on your breasts.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

With each thrust, the makeshift sex swing he has you in rocks, making the chains that hold you creak. You worry that you’re going to fall, but you suppose that would be better than a knife in your gut.

Crane’s cock bumps against your cervix which makes you whimper from the discomfort, but he thinks it’s out of pleasure.

“You like that? You like taking my cock like a fucking fleshlight? Didn’t think you’d be so easy, but I guess all it took back then was a spot on the football team to get into your pants.”

Crane is indeed using you like a fleshlight. He alternates between thrusting into you and holding onto the chains to move you over his cock. It’s humiliating, painful, awful, but he’s no longer threatening you with a knife.

He pulls out the camera again and points the lens at your pussy where it’s stretched around him. Then he backs up the camera a bit to capture your full form, contorted by the chains.

“W-what are you gonna do with those?” you ask with your broken voice.

“Exactly what you did to me,” he growls.

“No! No, please, you can’t do that.”

He grabs the chains and slams you down onto him, sending him impossibly deeper.

“You ruined my life. Now it’s your turn.”

“My career will be over! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send those to anyone!”

You’re begging shamelessly, sobbing and snotty, but none of this seems to turn him off. In fact, he seems to enjoy it more.

“I’m sure Dent would be interested to see what you get up to after hours. Of course, your reputation would be ruined once the rest of the city sees your messy cunt.”

All you can do is cry and shake your head.

“I know you’re good friends with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’ll tell everyone that he did this to you and ruin you both. Wouldn’t that be sweet,” he says.

His voice is raspy and low; he’s clearly very affected by the pleasure of using you and you doubt he can hold on for much longer.

“I-I’ll do anything, Dr. Crane. Please,” you say between sobs.

“Hmm,” he hums.

Crane grabs your breast roughly and squeezes, digging his nails into your soft skin. You hiss and your face screws up with pain. He then slaps it repeatedly until you show signs of more discomfort.

“Please,” you beg again.

“It might be nice to have a friend at the DA’s office,” he says with a smirk. “Especially one that would bid in my favor, lest some dirty pictures get out.”

Blackmail? Jesus, he’s fucking sick. Though you suppose the threat of releasing them is better than him actually doing it.

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help you out, just please don’t send them,” you say frantically.

He fucks you even more erratically now, like he can’t decide if he should edge or finish himself off.

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice frighteningly low. You nod in response. “You’re scared of me, the loser you tormented in college? Don’t you regret that?”

He’s speaking so quiet and slowly like he’s trying to hypnotize you. You nod along with what he’s saying, figuring it’s better just to agree.

“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Every time you look at our bastard child, you’ll see my face and regret what you did to me.”

That catches your attention. Our child?

“W-what?”

“You thought I kidnapped you just to cum in my hand? I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking with my fucking cum. Oh, and you know that little pill you take every day? I switched that out weeks ago. This little womb is as fertile as ever, and you’re going to give me a baby.”

Your stomach flips and you immediately feel nauseous. He tampered with your birth control? That means he was in your house. He could have put cameras up, bugged the place. You have no idea what he’s truly capable of.

Tears being to stream down your cheeks again. You feel so violated, so helpless. He doesn’t wipe away your tears or even tell you to stop crying. He just watches as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And you’re gonna take it all.”

He leans forward to press his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep into his eyes as he fills you with his cum. The wet, hot feeling of it flooding your insides makes you feel sick, and he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm which makes the cum froth and leak down your holes.

He stays seated inside you, keeping you plugged so the sperm has time to take. Crane is breathing heavily but he doesn’t once look away from you.

"Good girl," he mutters. "Good pussy."

You sag in relief when he finally pulls out. Your cunt aches from his rough treatment, and not in the fun way. Your arms and legs hurt from the bonds, but that appears to be a pain you won't soon be free from.

Crane walks back over to the chair he was sitting in when you first woke up and takes a seat. "I'll keep you here for a couple days so you can't go off and take one of those pesky morning after pills," he says casually.

"Y-you can't. They'll notice when I don't show up for work," you try to reason with him.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I called on your behalf and told them you had a family emergency. Something about grandma and her heart," he says. "I've taken care of everything."

You don't doubt that he has, and that scares you. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks at the pictures he took on the camera.

"Now all you have to do is stay out of my way in court, and no one will ever see these," he grins, letting the camera dangle from his wrist by the strap.

You nod in understanding. "Good girl."

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