#more observant than shed like though 😅

[pigeonwhumps]

Blackmail

Finding Safety masterlist

Whump Girl Summer day 6: Blackmail

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @painful-pooch (plus @justplainwhump bc you've been waiting for this)

While at university in Canada, Aaliyah is forcefully reminded of her past as a pet.

Set a few years after Cass and Aaliyah move to Canada. Aaliyah's in her second year.

1.8k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, rape/non-con, sexual slurs, flashbacks, conditioned whumpee, degradation, self-degradation, blackmail, non-con nude photos, discrimination, briefly implied homophobia, dehumanisation

Aaliyah closes her laptop and removes her headphones, stretching widely. She's enjoying researching for this essay but despite her ability to stay in one place for hours at a time she's getting stiff. And her ears are aching.

Her roommate Zac looks up from his own textbook. "You want to take a break? We have plenty of time."

She picks up her tablet and chooses her words from the symbols. Zac waits patiently, something he's good at and which she's always grateful for, given how some people act about her AAC software.

"Get water. Will be quick."

"Take as long as you need, I'll look after your stuff."

"Thank you."

She heads out of the library and crosses the corridor to the water fountain, drinking as much as she can and splashing a little on her face too. It feels nice.

She hears footsteps behind her and moves out of the way in case whoever it is wants to use the water fountain.

They don't. Instead, they bark out an order.

"Respect."

Aaliyah drops to her knees before she even knows what's happening. No, this can't happen here. She didn't even realise she still did that.

She tries to get up but her body's locked. If she gets up before Master says she can–

No. No, she's not there, she's safe, Master isn't here. He never will be.

So why can't she move?

"I thought so," says a confident, sneering voice from behind her. "See, my cousin's studying in the States, and his frat house just bought a box boy. So cute and eager to please. Combination of some sort, I think. Apparently you're not gay if it's a boxie you're fucking. Anyway, he showed me their pet on a video call and it's funny. The way you cock your head, your inability to read and write, and you always cover your left forearm, no matter how warm it is or what else you're wearing. You're a WRU slut, aren't you?"

Aaliyah doesn't respond. She doesn't reach for her tablet, or move her head, or try to get up. She can't do anything, and that's probably enough of an indictment by itself.

"I knew it." The voice is gleeful now, and he grabs her arm in a bruising grip, pulling her up and pushing her along. "Disabled restroom should be free, right?"

Distantly, Aaliyah realises she should resist. Master isn't here anymore to make her do this. She doesn't want to do this.

But she's not a person. And it has never mattered what she wants.

The boy shoves her into the bathroom and she tumbles to the floor, ending up sprawled on the tiles.

She hears the lock click with a dreadful finality.

"Now, I don't know any of the positions, but I want you on your hands and knees. I'm sure you know how to do that, at least. Oh yeah. And strip."

Aaliyah obeys with shaking hands, throat tight. She wishes the floor wasn't so white and the light wasn't so bright, it reminds her too much of the facility.

She flushes as he looks her up and down. She's not sure how he knows her, but she recognises him from somewhere. The name will come eventually, she thinks.

She doesn't want him seeing her. This isn't like when she plays with Cass and Calixte, this is different, it's like she's a pet again.

No, not just a pet. Owned.

"You really are hot. No wonder you volunteered to be a slut, your looks are your best asset. I don't see why you hide them, I mean most Romantics don't, right? They seduce and manipulate using them. Your looks might not be your very best asset though, I think I'd like to try you out now. You're bottoming, obviously. Let's see how good a slut you can be for me."

Aaliyah holds back her tears as the boy climbs on top of her. She's been taught how to hide her emotions, she's an expert at it, and she blinks her eyelashes seductively at him as he positions her to his liking. She ends up on her back, legs spread between his. He looks at her like she's a banquet.

"Oh, you really are a nice-looking pet. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face while I fuck you. I hear you Romantics are trained to love your owners, and really, that sounds ideal."

He's not her owner. He's not. But as he opens the lube in his pocket and slicks her up, teasing her with his finger, she finds that difficult to remember.

He positions himself and slides his cock inside with a wink. Fuck. She hates this. She wishes she could go back to not caring, but now she knows what it's like not to have to do this, not to believe it's all she's worth, not to have an owner (and that's the most important thing she's learnt, and the most painful), it seems impossible to do. The boy isn't her owner, but he feels that way.

So many people fucked her in training, and then there was Jacob, too, so maybe it doesn't matter if he's her owner anyway. She's a WRU slut at heart, after all, and with her owner gone it would make sense that she's a general slut for everyone now.

No... no, that wouldn't make sense. Not the way she'd like. She has Cass and Calixte, although she doesn't want to think of them right now, doesn't want them associated with this.

She buries her emotions deep down where they can't show, covering her anger and sorrow and utter terror with a veil of pleasure. She desperately wants to curl up in a ball and cry it out but she can't. She has to behave, and do what she was made to do.

She's a good pet at heart, after all.

He fucks into her, not caring how she feels about it, and she turns the small moans and sobs that escape into sounds of enjoyment.

"Oh, you're so good at this pet, my god. Keep doing that, this is good."

Aaliyah wants to stop. Just stop, stop giving him this, stop giving in, kick him and stop him from ever doing it again. But she's a good pet, so she won't. The lights are bright and it's so white and she knows she can't disobey or she'll get shocked. The handlers will use their batons if she fights back.

No. No, she's not there, she's free. Free and still a pet and still being fucked against her will.

A hand slaps her cheek, the stinging pain bringing her back to the present.

"Hey. Bitch. Don't zone out on me now, I was enjoying your attention."

Aaliyah bats her eyelids and does what she should. It hurts, but she's made to take that, so she does, even if she desperately wishes she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Almost anywhere.

It seems like an eternity before he comes inside her, which is usually permission for her to orgasm too. The boy sighs blissfully and withdraws.

"You are an excellent pet slut." He does up his trousers and pulls his phone out of his pocket, cocky grin back on his face. "Just gotta do something."

Later Aaliyah will wish she had punched him or covered her face or run or something, but right now she just lets herself be manouvred. She's a pet, she doesn't have any free will, and anyway she can't bring herself to move. It's all too much, all over again. He takes photos of her face and her barcode and the two together, and other parts too, making it very clear who and what she is, and what she's done.

"Nice photos. I won't share them so long as you don't tell anyone about this. And, well. I might come up with more terms later. Gotta finish college before I can move and get a Romantic of my own, after all. Do we have a deal?"

Aaliyah nods, barely keeping the tears at bay. How did she end up like this?

"Great. See ya."

He stalks out of the bathroom without so much as a backward glance, and Aaliyah locks the door again before sinking to the floor. Now, the tears come. They can, now he's gone, she doesn't need to keep such a tight rein on her emotions now she's alone.

She didn't... how did this happen? How could she let something like this happen? She's not a person, this is a clear reminder of that, because a person wouldn't be so useless. They wouldn't have a barcode that makes them so easy to control. Master's dead and she's still a pet, still owned in every sense except the completely literal one. She scrunches up under the sink, giving herself a few minutes to cry messily, snottily. Not silently pretty, as a Romantic should.

She takes a deep breath, then another. Then she gets up and leans over the sink, scrubbing her face, wiping away the tears, making her eyes less puffy.

Maybe Zac will assume she's had a panic attack and not ask too many questions. She hopes so.

She dresses hurriedly with shaking hands, wanting nothing more than to go home and curl up in Cass' arms. But she can't do that, because then he'd ask and she'd tell him and she can't risk those photos being shared.

As a pet, she's not allowed wants anyway.

She brushes herself down, takes another deep breath, and heads back out.

Zac spots her as she re-enters the library and frowns. As soon as she's close enough, he murmurs, "Are you okay?" She nods. She's fine, she always is. "Okay. If you say so. Another half hour, then we'll go get food?" She nods again. She's in no shape to use her tablet to communicate right now. Zac squeezes her shoulder and looks back down at his textbook, frowning thoughtfully and highlighting another line.

Aaliyah opens up her laptop and puts on her headphones, pressing play. She prepares to draw down her notes and bookmark the sections she needs for her essay.

It's hard, so much harder than earlier. She was enjoying it before but now she can barely concentrate. Her head swims as she tries to settle back into the research. She has to rewind the audio of her textbook several times as she zones out, constantly replaying the last half hour or so. It hurts, physically, mentally, everything, she was hoping she'd never feel that hurt again.

She's useless. She can't concentrate, can't even read or write. She doesn't know things that everyone else finds obvious, that they all stare at her for not understanding. She's trying, she really is, but she's hopeless at it.

She's been pretending to be a person for a while now, but she's not. She never will be. She's a pet, and that's all she'll ever be.

[dark-silhouette]

Good night dear Adar lovers..

This is my first attempt at fanfic in all these years on tumblr! (the first one turned out to be smut haha) so please be good 🤣🥲

I leave here what came from my dirty mind when I saw this beautiful gif of Adar.. 🥵

It has been left in 2 parts so this is the first, it is a little calmer than the second part so, the good part will come... what inspired me the most about the image is in the second part so be patient :)

I also leave an image of more or less what the reader would look like based on the description I made 🙌🏻😅

Also, Adar is a little dark in this fic.

Adar xReader

Enjoy!

I hope you like it! 💗💕

The radiant moonlight, high in the velvet night, reflected upon you, casting a gentle glow upon your fair features. The pale hue of your skin shimmered in its light, mingling with the rivulets of water that traced every curve of your form. Your long, raven-black hair clung to your body, sleek against your glowing skin. You stood within your cherished retreat—a secluded bend in the river, known only to a few. Here, a waterfall concealed the entrance to a hidden cave, a sanctuary where you could come to cleanse yourself, unseen by the eyes of the world.

But tonight, you had chosen differently—a choice that might lead you down a path fraught with danger, or perhaps something more. Moments before, you had shed your garments one by one, allowing them to fall silently upon the earth. Your hair cascaded freely down your back, and your body embraced the cold touch of the wind, sending a slight shiver through your being.

With graceful steps, you approached the river's edge, the waterfall's roar echoing softly in the distance. Though always careful to guard your privacy, for you could not bear for any stranger's gaze to fall upon your form, tonight you made an exception. No one was worthy of such a privilege—no one, save for him. Adar. Once an elf, now an uruk.

The one for whom you would sacrifice all, for just a glance, a touch, a kiss. Your decision to come here tonight, under the watchful moon, had already borne fruit. For you were not alone.

From the shadows, gray-blue eyes beheld you, tracing the lines of your body, observing every movement in silent contemplation.

Your heart quickened as his presence became known to you, though you had not fully turned toward him. The water's surface rippled around your waist, leaving your form exposed from the waist upward. With a slow, deliberate gesture, you swept your hair forward, laying it over your right shoulder, baring your back to him.

Turning your head just enough, you revealed the profile of your face, and in the dim light, your sapphire eyes locked with his. You summoned all your will to cast him a glance, filled with unspoken desire.

In response, you thought you heard a low, primal growl escape him, barely audible, but unmistakable as your gazes met.

Sensing his attention deepening, you turned fully, your movements deliberate and unhurried, allowing him to see you in all your radiant beauty, your upper body now laid bare before the uruk.

Your hands began to move with deliberate grace, tenderly running through your raven locks, washing them with care. Then, with languid precision, your hand traced a path from your chin down to your neck, each movement slow and measured, as your eyes never left his. There was an unspoken connection between your gaze and his, something deep, primal. Your delicate fingers caressed your breasts with the gentleness they deserved, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you heared the uruk's breathing quicken.

You were not mistaken. In the shadows, his body remained still, though his gaze, fierce and unwavering, followed every inch of your movement. His breath grew heavier and the blood that coursed through his veins seemed to heat with each passing second as he watched your moonlit form. His entire being simmered with a heat he had long suppressed. His eyes never left your figure, not for an instant.

The air itself seemed to be still as his gaze followed the journey of your hands. His breath faltered the moment your fingertips wandered lower, lingering at your belly before venturing further.

A low, guttural growl erupted from his throat, raw and animalistic, as though he were teetering off the edge of control. His eyes gleamed with feral intensity as he beheld the parting of your lips, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from between them.

It was then that Adar moved, stepping forward, emerging from the shadows that had once concealed him. His gaze was sharp and calculating, yet it could not conceal the fire burning within him- the unspoken desire to claim, to possess you.

Your hands stilled, your breath caught in your chest, as you saw him fully tall, imposing, cloaked in black, with his dark hair falling loose about his scarred face. There was something about those marks that made him all the more compelling, more dangerous.

For a brief moment, you waited. You knew well that look in his eyes, for it was a command unspoken, a demand of submission, of yielding. His piercing gaze penetrated yours, delving deeper, reaching into the recesses of your heart and soul.

For an instant, his eyes flicked toward the waterfall behind you, and in that moment, you understood his will.

Your slender form turned swiftly, heading toward the concealed cave behind the cascade. Upon your arrival, you paused, awaiting Adar’s presence, but no shadow darkened the entrance, and no sound of approach met your ears. With mounting concern, you grasped the hem of your long gown, swiftly donning it, intent on discovering what might have transpired beyond the veil of the waterfall.

Barefoot, you ventured cautiously along the narrow path that skirted the cavern’s edge, the cool mist of the waterfall dampening your skin. But just as your steps carried you near the exit, your breath halted, and your heart seemed to cease its rhythm, for there, before you, stood a tall and darkened figure, blocking your way. His presence was imposing, a force unto itself, and his eyes—like embers burning with some deep, hidden fire—fixed themselves upon yours, unyielding.

You raised your gaze, meeting his intense stare. A sense of bewilderment overcame you, as though you were caught in some enchantment.

"Meleth..." he said, his voice low yet commanding, laced with a dark, unspoken desire.

A sudden rush of adrenaline and a strange nervousness filled your veins, quickening your pulse.

His stance was wild, untamed—his tone a mixture of demand and longing as he asked.

"Where do you think you are going?".

@nezzlysixx @zoya-olenko