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after-witch · 2 months

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Check Out Time is Eleven [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Check Out Time is 11 [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You're invited to a hotel for a warm meal and a place to sleep by a mysterious stranger. Soulmate AU.

Word count: 7100ish

notes: yandere, kidnapping, mentions of drugging, a really useless and non-philosophical reference to My Dinner with Andre

The red thread on his finger loses slack for the very first time in his life, and for the smallest of moments, Chrollo Lucilfer forgets himself. His steps falter, expensive, stolen shoes nearly scuffing on the sidewalk, and a startled breath quivers through his chest. His mouth gapes, ever so slightly.

In surprise.

In trepidation.

In realization.

The red thread was, had always been, attached to you. His soulmate. Whoever you were. The gentle tugging of the thread meant that after years of fruitless searching, you were finally somewhere nearby, close enough to reach. Probably, given the tautness of the thread, even within walking distance.

How lucky for him.

How unfortunate for you.

You were finally discovered. You were finally within his grasp, fingers itching, warm satisfaction blooming through his skin. How often had he ruminated over the fact that you had yet to belong to him? How often had he wondered what you would look like, how you would feel under his touch? And what you might do to him when he had you in person? Would he find himself changed, however slightly, as the others in the Troupe had been? Or would he mold you with his own presence, looming over you like a shadow?

The mere thought of you is enough to get his heart racing, bring a bead of sweat to his neck. It was so unlike him, and wasn’t that a thrill?

And then, just like that, the moment is over. He recollects himself and his mouth closes and his mind whirs back into focused gear.

He needed to find you, first thing. The rest of the logistics could come later.

His eyes track the movements of the thread, and without missing a beat, he turns on his heels to follow the direction of the movement. It was possible--no, highly probable--that you were close enough to reach on foot. Within the city, certainly, and he didn’t mind the exercise.

As he continues to walk, the cold gleam of the business district turning into rows of glitzy restaurants and downtown attractions, he’s glad that you weren’t too close. It gives him more time to think about what he wants to do with you.

The Troupe members that had already found their soulmates--and Chrollo feels a surge of pride in his chest, counting himself among them now, fulfilled in that goal--had taken on different approaches.

Some merely kidnapped their soulmates and kept them in secure locations. Simple, effective in terms of security, but that would ensure it would take him a long time to win you over. And he knows that he will do just that, eventually, no matter how he decides to keep you. Others took their time, attempting to strike up something of an ordinary relationship before revealing their knowledge of the red thread, and persuading their soul mates to come with them for safety (and romance)’s sake. Surely the more appealing of the two options, but it did come with the downside of expended time and energy.

What he would do with you depended on so many factors. Did you live in some stationary location, or were you prone to travel? What did you do for a living? Were you already in a relationship, some inferior partnership with someone who could never appreciate you the way that he could, as your only soulmate?

All of these questions circle heavily in his mind as he walks, following the thread that was becoming tighter and tighter between the pair of you. The ritzy downtown buildings were now gone, replaced by rows of old buildings that had seen better days. In place of fine dining were small cafes and diners that practically exuded grease, laundromats with blinking signs, and the occasional busted out window. The scores of people walking, gabbing, waving around fancy handbags were replaced by only the occasional person walking with clear destinations in mind, eyes in front.

As the thread becomes even tighter, it leads him down an alley that most people would have surely avoided. But he doesn’t worry about the glances of the people leaning up against heavy exit doors, or the people crouching on the ground with needles against their arms. He thinks about you. Will he find you here, perhaps, curled up in the arms of a drug dealer pumping you full of toxic chemicals that flushed you with endorphins and heat? Or you might be on the other side of the needle, pocketing cash and going on your merry way?

But, no. Perhaps not. Instead of leading him further into the den of seedy dealings, the thread brings him away, feet crunching on broken bottles, towards some type of fenced-in parking lot. Or it had been a parking lot, once

From a short distance through the metal fence, he can see burning barrels, tents, carts. The smells of cooking grills waft over, greasy foods, easy to cook outdoors. It wasn’t a new sight, in this city or otherwise. Chrollo had seen worse. Had lived worse.

And then, there--at the end of the red thread that weaved in between one of the fence’s metal honeycombs: you.

He sees you for the first time and knows, with a burning intensity that threatens to knock him over, that he needs you. He needs you now. He needs you always. You have something that he lacks and perhaps possessing you will give it to him.

Is this what the others felt, when they first saw their soulmates? Or is it something unique to you and him? Some unfathomable bond that has shaken him to his core? Not for long, of course, never for long. He regains his senses within moments and catalogs the feeling away for later analysis.

It’s you that he focuses on, now. And the fact he will have you, as soon as he decides on the where, when, and how. He wouldn’t be the leader of the Phantom Troupe if he wasn’t skilled at taking what he wanted.

Today what he wants is not a gallery of paintings or a rare gruesome artifact, but a person.

You.

What to make of you?

You’re standing in front of one of the burning barrels, rubbing your hands together. They look red and chapped, even from his vintage point. Behind you is a shopping cart filled with odds and ends. On the side nearest the fire, you had clearly laid out clothes over the edge of the cart--wet ones, from rain or maybe you’d had the opportunity to wash them. Your current ensemble is a simple hodgepodge. Clearly, you wore whatever was cleanest, whatever was warmest, whatever you could find.

He remembers such a living.

You appear to be on the outskirts, avoiding the groups scattered around the encampment. No one approaches you and you don’t approach them. A loner… by choice, or not? You wouldn’t be alone for long, if it wasn’t by choice, and in time you might be grateful for it. If it was by choice, well, there were ways to tame feral cats.

It doesn’t take much analysis to decide what to do with you, to decide how best to approach things. He’s glad that he wore something casual today. Just some simple slacks and a nice sweater. If he was overdressed, it might be more difficult. Not that he couldn’t manage it, but he enjoys advantages when he can get them.

With no hesitation, he walks through one of the ragged gaps in the metal fence and begins to approach you.

Your head jerks towards him the moment that his steps become even remotely close. He doesn’t mind. It’s only natural, especially for someone who has been living the way you surely have. There’s a tugging somewhere inside him--memory of himself and connection with you.

He smiles, not broadly, but in a way meant to disarm.

“Hello,” he says, stopping a few feet away from you.

You stiffen.

“I’m Chrollo,” he continues. His voice is undisturbed and calm. As if he was meeting you on a sunny afternoon in the park while you were both buying ice cream from the same cart. That might have been a more charming meeting, he muses, but this one can work to his advantage just as easily. “Won’t you tell me your name?”

You snatch your hands back from the barrel and step, refusing to turn your back to him, behind your cart.

“None of your business,” you say.

And oh, he thinks, it would be heaven if he could somehow bottle the first time he hears your voice and listen to it on demand. But he supposes, he has the rest of his life--and yours--to hear you speak.

“That’s all right.” He gestures towards you, the cart, your life. “I see you are in need.” You frown at him, but he continues. “How would you like to go somewhere warm?”

Your lip pulls back in a sneer and you move yourself on the other side of the cart.

“I don’t do that. Fuck off.”

Ah. You thought he wanted you to--well. It wouldn’t be the first time people took advantage of others in less fortunate situations. There had been enough of that in Meteor City.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, voice going soft. “I should have clarified. I’m a… missionary of sorts. I look for people in need and offer what help I can give. I’d like to buy you a hotel room for the week.” He notices your wary expression. “Or even the day, if that would be more comfortable for you. Somewhere you can get some safe sleep, a shower, something to eat. I wouldn’t even be there.”

He recognizes the look on your face all too well. Wariness. Suspicion. The face of someone who knows that people are tricky and greedy and cruel. That people will take things that they haven’t earned. Oh, yes-- he knows all of that so well, from both sides.

And he also knows how to get your guard to drop enough for him to accomplish his goal. Sure, mistrust is essential in an environment like this. But mistrust can always be overpowered when there’s something essential within reach. Like comfort. Or food. A warm place to stay, even if it’s just for a few hours. A private bathroom, a toilet, a tub.

“I don’t know,” you say, finally, having given him the appropriate stare down.

He nods his head.

“I understand. I would feel wary myself, in your position. It’s perfectly reasonable.” It is more than reasonable, he thinks, but you don’t need to know that. You just need to believe that coming with him will be worth your while, worth ignoring what he’s sure is a growing pit in your stomach.

“What I would like to do is accompany you to a hotel where I often book rooms for those in need. It’s a private room, of course. And I will pay for your meals.” He sees the gears turning in your mind at the promise of a bed. The promise of food. “I have my own room in the hotel, but it’s on a different floor, and I won’t have to see you at all,” he adds, and this is how he will make you step over that cautionary line. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Everything is pre-paid on my card, of course, and you’re free to order whatever you’d like. What do you say?”

He lets his words hang in the air, wafting like smoke from the nearby barrels.

You wet your lips. You glance around at the people around you. A few of them have taken notice of Chrollo, perhaps as a mark, perhaps more; but he pays them no mind. He could kill them in a fraction of a second and whisk you out of here just as easily, if he needs to… But he hopes it will not come to that.

“All right,” you say suddenly, softly. “If… you’re just going to give me a room and feed me, then all right.”

Chrollo smiles. It is, he thinks, perhaps close to a genuine one.

“Wonderful. Follow me, if you please.”

The hotel is expensive, but thankfully not terribly ostentatious. Chrollo would hate to put you off by throwing you into some gilded lion’s den. But the hotel is more reserved, classy. Comfort and luxury without any of the ridiculous trappings that often come with them.

Chrollo does bring you with him to the front desk, if only to reduce the chances that the security will kick you out for looking out of place. And you do look out of place, but perhaps that’s for the better. It will make you appreciate what he’s going to do for you more, won’t it?

You’re quiet all the while, but that’s to be expected. You only hold tight to your backpack, where everything you hold dear has been crammed, and let him do the talking. A reservation is easily made under the guise that only you are to know the room number--you certainly don’t need to know that he’ll swing back and reserve the connected room next door--and the key is given without fanfare from the polite desk clerk who gives you curious glances but nothing more.

Chrollo walks you to the elevator, ever the gentleman, and hands you the key. You stare at it. The uncertain expression on your face is unbelievably precious, he thinks. He hopes he can see more of it before it inevitably morphs into shock and anger and fear.

“Would you like some new clothing?” Chrollo asks, after he pushes the button on the elevator for you. “I can have some sent up from the hotel’s boutique. I’ll tell the front desk, so they can give the concierge the room number. Ah, and I’ll need to know your size, if you’re willing to give it.”

“You want to buy me clothes?”

You almost splutter out the words, and he has to restrain himself from kissing you right then and there. You are terribly cute, and there’s a slight disturbing tinge to how much he finds everything about you enticing so quickly. The way you furrow your eyebrows at his question. The slight look of embarrassment, the twitch of your lips.

He needs you so much, and he’s only known you for a few moments.

You tell him your size, then glance at him before staring at the glossy metallic doors. “Um, I need something warm. No useless stuff.” Your head gestures back towards the hotel lobby, where a few women are walking on the arm of male companions, dressed in sleeveless dresses and likely heading for the restaurant.

“Of course.” Chrollo does not tell you that he can envision you wearing all sorts of useless things in the future his mind is creating, brick by brick. You would look heavenly in something strapless, something slinky. Something that hangs off your shoulders. He would drape a fine wrap over them, were you behaving enough to go out with him--no one else but him will be privy to such delicacies.

For now, though, he resolves to send you the clothes he knows you want. Things will be a little more seamless if your guard isn’t entirely raised.

The elevator doors open.

Chrollo steps aside, and gestures for you to enter.

“This is where I take my leave. I will let the restaurant host know your name, and you can order whatever you’d like. It’s on my card. Please, don’t feel the need to hold back.”

You take a step inside the elevator and ah, there it is. Just the slightest hesitation. The slightest jerk of your head as you look back at him. Do you feel bad, leaving him in a lurch when he’s giving you charity? Do you feel beholden to him in some way?

“I guess it’s okay if we share a meal. You’re paying for it, anyway. It’d be awkward otherwise.” You stare down at the elevator carpet as you say the words, and Chrollo realizes that he’s perhaps misjudged the gesture. Your sense of shame, maybe, outweighs your desire to be rid of him and his potential alternative motives for assisting you.

That might come in handy.

He nods, as you turn around and make brief eye contact with him.

“Well, then. How about we meet here in 5 hours for dinner? I can send something dressy to your room, if you’d like.”

You shrug your shoulders as the doors close, which is as good as assent in his view. The string on his finger rises with the elevator, but now there is no fear that he’ll lose you. The string, something which had been maddening in its slackness for so long, is now something of a treasure itself. A little leash, keeping you to him, wherever you go.

Which, for now, is your hotel room--meaning he needs to get moving. He won’t pick anything too flashy out from the boutique; something modest, something simple. There are delicate steps to take to avoid making you feel ashamed without offending your sense of dignity all in one go.

Thankfully--for you and himself--he’s attuned to such needs.

5 hours. That would give you enough time to take a shower or bath, to change into the fresh clothing he’ll send up, to take a nap. Perhaps you’ll stare out the hotel window at the view or curl up in the bed, rolling on the fresh sheets.

Five hours would give you time to freshen up and relax, yes. And it would give him enough time to get hold of Shalnark and procure anything he needs to make your removal from the hotel as smooth as possible.

The shower is running again. He doesn’t blame you. He remembers days where a hot shower was a luxury beyond imagining.

He keeps his side pressed against the door connecting your rooms--not that you know he is on the other side with a key to yours, of course--and holds back a contended sigh as he watches the red string on his finger twirl and shift with your every movement.

What are you thinking about? He wonders. Are you thinking about how long it’s been since you had a hot shower? Are you thinking about slipping the shampoo bottles into your backpack?

Perhaps more inviting… are you thinking about him?

He knows what’s on his mind, and has been for the last few hours now. You.

What were you like, deep down, underneath your layers and justifiably guarded stance? Maybe you liked to read, maybe you once had a dream of being a dancer before life went to hell, maybe you were shy, maybe you liked to get drunk and sing your favorite songs at full volume.

What would you be like, once you were fully his?

What do you look like, underneath all of your clothing? What has nature and nurture shown fit to bestow upon you, your skin, all those secret places you keep hidden?

The thread bobbles again. Are you stepping out of the shower soon, or still scrubbing yourself? You’re so vulnerable, naked and unawares, just a few feet away from him. The water running is a delicious sound to his ears, because he knows that you’re underneath it.

He imagines what you might look like naked. He imagines what sounds you might make, underneath him, gasping and--

Oh, but he’s getting ahead of himself. He smiles and shakes his head at the rush. He should slow down, yes. Slow down and savor it all.

He clenches both of his hands. In one is the duplicate key, in the other is a syringe. Both go into opposite pockets, awaiting their respective time to shine.

The dress that arrives at your door with a prim knock from a porter is not quite what you expected--which is a relief. You expected the stranger to send up something ridiculous. Something slinky and glittering, maybe with only a half shoulder.

But instead it’s a simple dress with a flared skirt, all made from dark blue fabric. The sleeves are elbow length, the neckline isn’t too low, and there’s a matching black belt to go with it. He’s even sent up a pair of nylons, which are something you haven’t worn since you were a little kid, desperately trying to mimic your mother’s fancy outfits.

He also--and maybe this is overkill--sent up a few pairs of shoes in different sizes, along with a transcribed note instructing you to call the front desk if none of them fit, or simply wear your own shoes if you are uncomfortable with it.

This stranger--Chrollo--is awfully accommodating. And kind. And considerate.

Which is exactly why, when the dress is on and your nylon-clad feet are resting in the shoes easiest to run in, you tuck your switchblade into one of the dress pockets for safekeeping.

Maybe he is just kind. Or he’s one of those people that makes themselves feel better by occasionally being charitable; he’s harboring some sort of guilt that can be alleviated, however temporarily, by buying a person a sandwich or two.

But maybe he’s not. You’ve known people who have been hurt or killed or sometimes worse by so-called charitable people. People that lure you in with showers and hotels, meals and clothing. People that slit your throat before or after they have their way with you.

Life was dark and life was shit, and you weren’t born yesterday. If this stranger had any nefarious intentions, you certainly weren’t going to walk into them like a bleating lamb.

And yet, and yet… some part of you wanted to believe he had good intentions. You’re not sure why, exactly. You weren’t the type to look on the bright side or always see the good in people--or at least, you hadn’t been that way since childhood. Yet something about this Chrollo made you hope that he was a good person. That you’d have a nice conversation and he wouldn’t do anything more than give you a nice afternoon and a place to sleep comfortably for a bit.

It was an almost primal feeling, which made it all the more stranger. Your gut feelings usually told you something like: this place is dangerous, this guy’s probably got a gun, that alley’s too notorious to use as a shortcut.

Your gut didn’t give you silly notions, like wanting to trust someone, hoping they would talk to you during dinner, wondering if they’d be pleasant to be around for longer.

At least, not before today.

“And the lady will have the cailles aux raisins.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Quail,” Chrollo says, allowing the waiter to take the leather-bound menu from his hands. As if your issue was with the choice of food--okay, you didn’t know what it meant, but still--and not that he ordered for you. “Stuffed with shallots, grapes, liver, and ah, I believe, some cognac, if I’m not mistaken.”

“That’s correct, sir,” the waiter says, not giving you a second glance--you didn’t even get a menu, which irked you, but considering you had nothing to pay with and perhaps the hotel staff knew it, it was a practical snub.

Your lips twist into a frown, although you suppose you can’t complain. The dish does sound good. Not that you’ve ever had quail. But it can’t be that different from chicken. Or duck. You had duck, once, as a kid. Your mother brought you to a hotel just like this for a Mother’s Day brunch and you sat at a table with an embroidered cloth and wore a pair of your mother’s white gloves, so that you would look extra fancy.

“I apologize,” Chrollo tells you. “I should have asked your preference first.” The strangest part is how sincere he sounds, like he really didn’t want to offend you. Like he actually might be interested in what you want to eat. Part of you can appreciate that, and part of you wants to finger the handle of your knife inside your pocket.

“It’s fine.” You shrug it all off. Because you can, and you choose to--but also because you’re famished and the smells wafting from the other tables is enough to make your stomach growl. “People usually don’t order things like this for me, anyway. If they do give me anything.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, looking at you like a particularly interesting painting on a wall. “No?”

You smile thinly. “Nope. I’m lucky if I get someone’s leftover fries from a fast food shop.”

“What a shame.” He places both hands on the table, clasping his fingers together. His gaze bores into yours. You look away, briefly, but find yourself wanting to look back. How odd. “I’m sure,” he begins, talking slowly, measuring out his words, “that must be demoralizing--to be treated as lesser-than.”

You can’t help the snort that comes out your nose, or the quick words that follow. “Yeah? And what would you know about that?” Your eyes rake over his outfit, your mind whirls over how much money he’s spent on you alone, as if it was nothing. A drop in the bucket. Some rich man playing with his money. Or daddy’s money, depending on the circumstance.

Of course, you expect him to get offended. You expect him to call you ungrateful and cancel the order and ship you out of here like yesterday’s trash. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has gotten angry that you didn’t play into their savior fantasies. Your muscles even prep to stand, your face goes stony, ready to block the anger that he’ll throw your way.

Only... none of that happens.

His face looks--it’s hard to describe, really. It’s almost like it glitches for a moment, and you see something you weren’t meant to see. You’re not even sure if he realizes it. And then his expression gets so remote and so quiet. He looks away from you for perhaps the first time, looking instead, at his hands.

“I know a lot about that, actually.”

It’s not offense in his expression but… sympathy? No, that’s not it either. You know “sympathy face” like the back of your hand, for all the good it does you.

It’s empathy. Trace, but there. A shared experience between you. Maybe that’s why you’ve felt inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt all day. Why you went with him in the first place, hunger pangs aside.

“So you’ve been…” You begin, but is there a need to finish. He’s been homeless, or something like it. Downtrodden. On the bottom.

He nods.

“Sorry.” The word comes out blurted but soft. Well, I’m an asshole, you think.

He smiles at you, a soft, thin thing--almost like a gloss that covers up his previous expression. “No, don’t be. You had no way of knowing, dear.”

Dear.

The word hangs between you silently, as if it’s being dangled on some sort of invisible string. He opens his mouth slightly--maybe to apologize--but shuts it when you don’t say anything. Instead, he simply blinks, and watches you.

Perhaps a minute ago you might have bristled at the nickname, might have sought to cut it right down, in fact. But for now, you brush it aside. He’s being nice--he knows what you’re going through. And sure, there’s some sort of guilt relief in his actions, but it’s not coming from the place of a rich man making himself feel better. It’s coming, you think, from a place of not just knowing where you’ve been but having been there himself.

Before either of you can speak, the waiter returns with your appetizer and despite the guilt in your gut, your hunger practically sings at the sight of the plate of bread and butter. It’s fancy bread, already cut, gleaming with what smells like garlic butter spread over the top.

The flavored butter is shaped like a rose and it’s only after you childishly dip your bread right into it and take a loud, chewy bite of the delicious goodness that you realize you’ve committed a faux-pas. There’s a tiny butter knife on the plate, obviously meant to delicately smear the butter onto your bread. And here you are, gnawing on the piece like some sort of medieval peasant during a bad harvest.

A pang of shame tingles over you. It’s a silly kind of shame--inconsequential, really. Who cares how you eat bread at some hotel you’ll never step foot in again in your life? But it lingers terribly. Until Chrollo picks up a piece of brand and dips it right into the butter, too, taking a chewy bite with far less graciousness than you imagined with his sophisticated appearance.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” He asks, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

You smile. You almost-snort. And the shame dissipates like ice crystals on a sunny day, as you and Chrollo both finish off the appetizer. He lets you eat more without saying a word, which you appreciate.

There’s a lot to appreciate about him, really. He’s been kind. He hasn’t been terribly condescending, dinner order notwithstanding. And he seems to know how to approach you with actual empathy and not just the sticky, coddling sympathy that most people do.

And you won’t lie--he is nice to look at. He even smells nice, but with the amount of money he had to spend on the clothing he sent up to your room, he can likely afford to buy expensive cologne.

If he notices you staring, he says nothing. Instead, he half-closes his eyes and appears to be deep in thought. Over… you? Or dinner?

He hums a bit under his breath, and you realize: it’s the music. It’s a delicate song being played by a small group of musicians set up on a stage in the corner. It’s familiar… your brain strives to catch up with your ears.

“You like this song?” You ask, because the silence has stretched too long, and the bread is now gone.

Chrollo opens his eyes and regards you with a sober smile. “Yes.” He pauses, then. “It’s--”

“Elgar's Chanson de matin,” you blurt, before he can. “I know it.”

His eyes widen, just a tad. Enough to show that he’s curious. A funny bit of pride thrums through you. It can be retribution for the quail earlier, you decide.

“You’re familiar with his work?”

You feel your cheeks heat up, even though you don’t get the sense that he asked to be cruel. He seems actually interested. Like he wants to know you. It’s nice, and confusing, and a little startling.

You nod, wishing there was more bread to break up the conversation. “What, you think someone like me can’t be interested in classical music?

“Of course not.” He answers swiftly, resolutely.

He reaches his hand towards yours and grasps it before you can think to pull away. It seems silly to yank your hand out of his, so you don’t. Even if the way he looks down at your interlocked fingers makes goosebumps dance up your arm.

His expression is so strange. He looks… lonely. And desperate. And relieved. But why?

Both of your gazes meet for one electric moment and for that moment, you feel like he sees you. And you see him. Not as clearly. But you see something inside him that is not quite on the surface. Something which does make you pull away, but not with distaste. You withdraw your hand from his slowly, like he’s a wild animal that you don’t want to startle.

The waiter, impeccable timing as ever, arrives with the main courses just as your hand makes its way into your lap.

And just like that, the spell is broken. Ripples of water dash whatever it was between you, and he’s speaking charmingly to the waiter, who appears swiftly again with a glass of champagne for each of you. You weren’t intending to drink, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt. It could calm your nerves.

Neither of you talk much for the rest of dinner. It’s not tense, exactly, but you can tell there’s something in the air. Questions unspoken, maybe, or just an awkwardness between two strangers who seem to both understand and misunderstand each other in equal measure.

The hotel’s restaurant begins to thin out after your main courses are taken away. A dessert menu is brought, and Chrollo orders a simple slice of cake for both of you.

Real vanilla bean frosting is on your lips when you ask your question. Quiet, but with most of the other guests gone, he has no trouble hearing it.

“So you were… homeless, before?”

You’re not sure why you need to know this. To confirm that he’s not some rich boy playing with his father’s money? To see how much he can really understand you? Maybe the champagne went to your head. You don’t normally drink, it wouldn’t be impossible.

His fork stalls as the question comes out. He glances up at you and there’s nothing offended or hurt in his eyes. He seems to weigh his answer before he gives it. It doesn’t really surprise you; he could be just as mistrustful of you as you are of him, couldn’t he?

“Something like that.” He rests his fork on his plate. “I suppose you are trying to decide just how much I can sympathize with your… situation.”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you’re grateful the water brought another glass of champagne that you can sip from to loosen the tightness in your chest.

If he notices your flushed countenance, he doesn’t remark on it. You like him better for it. He continues speaking, looking at you with a measured expression. Like before, his words come slowly and carefully, given to you with something akin to grace.

“Our situations were not exactly similar. I don’t find it terribly useful to compare them. Better in some ways, worse in others. Like anything.”

“Better?” You dab at your mouth with a napkin.

“Ah.” He seems to weigh his next words with even more scrutiny before he decides on them. “I had something you didn’t, which surely benefited me.”

“Which was?”

There’s something wistful in his voice now. It makes you lean forward over the table. With most of the other guests gone, it feels strange to talk so openly about clearly delicate matters. Chrollo mimics your lean, and while he doesn’t take your hands across the table into his, you get the feeling he’d like to, if you let him.

“Companionship,” he says simply. The word settles in the air like a brick that seems to land right on your chest. You blink and feel the beginnings of tears in your eyes. You really did have too much champagne, and this is all getting to be a lot. You start to lean backward when he speaks again.

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“No,” you lie. The shock of the question does make you lean back fully. Then, to be spiteful. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer. He only looks down at his hands and the empty spot where yours used to be, and then back at you.

Nothing more is said on the matter. He pays for the meal and leaves a nice fat tip for the waiter--who has, you think, been lurking nearby either to witness your drama or to make sure no one swipes his tip from the table--before escorting you back to the elevators.

Shame slams back into you while you’re standing in front of the elevator doors.

“I’m sorry.” Sure, he asked it first, but fuck--you hate being rude. If you were rude. It was hard to tell how Chrollo felt about anything. The champagne making your head fuzzy doesn’t help. Not at all.

He tilts his head a little. “What for?”

Your eyebrows furrow together. “You know, for asking… for being…” You wave your hands around a little. It’s too hard to put into words. You’re tired, you feel out of sorts, and you’re tipsy bordering on drunk. You can give yourself some forgiveness in a lack of coherency in this matter, at least.

Chrollo regards you for a moment before he shakes his head, scoffing a little as he smiles.

“For being yourself? Or at least showing some small part of it to me? I don’t mind.” He holds out his arm and you, unsteady champagne fuzz in your head, take it. “I’ll escort you to your room, if that’s all right. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go there alone.”

You should tell him that you’ll be fine. You should. But the champagne in your brain and the way you feel drawn to him--however slightly--makes “should” fly out the window. So you nod and let him lead you into the elevator, where the ride up makes you dizzy enough that Chrollo has to steady you carefully, and you mumble out another apology.

He only chuckles a little and helps you walk out of the elevator without stumbling over the threshold. Your room is just down the hall and he keeps a steady grip on you the whole way, even though you’ve told yourself that you won’t stumble anymore. It feels weird, to have someone so close to you; to smell his cologne and feel the warmth of his skin.

It feels weird, yes, but giddy too. He is handsome. And he did buy you dinner. And clothes. And he’s not as shitty as you thought he might be at first. The way he ate the bread in solidarity with you earlier--you can’t forget that, can you? It was… cute, even. If someone like Chrollo could be called cute.

Is it the champagne, the newness of this stranger-but-not-entirely, the rich disarmament that comes with a full stomach and freshly washed face? All of the above? Whatever it is, it’s got you thinking too much about Chrollo as he gently takes the key from your hand and opens your hotel room door.

A gentleman, he only sees you just inside before taking his leave, promising to meet you for breakfast in the morning--if you’d like.

You would like, you tell him, and the door shuts and locks swiftly afterwards. Chrollo’s cologne lingers in the air, or maybe it rubbed off on you from all the steadying he had to do.

The hotel room is just as you left it. Clean and pristine, smelling vaguely of lemon. Your duffel bags and personal belongings are shoved in the corner. Maybe you’ll try to read one of your books tonight, before you sleep? It would be the first time you read on an actual bed in ages. Maybe you could even call for room service? A little midnight snack? It’s not like Chrollo would mind, or at least, he probably wouldn’t. It’d be something small anyway, nothing wild.

Unless you wanted a bubbly nightcap.

Full of ideas, you take your giddy champagne self back to the bathroom to change into pajamas that he sent up earlier, humming Elgar’s Chanson, thinking about bread and quail and… Chrollo. The knife in your dress pocket gets left on the bathroom counter. It was silly to bring it, now that you think about it.

Still humming, you flop on the bed and grab the menu for room service. It wouldn’t hurt to order some extra dessert. And another glass of champagne. Maybe two…

You’re so out of sorts that at no point for the rest of the night, before your weary head hits the soft pillow, do you stop to wonder how Chrollo knew your room number.

There are few things Chrollo truly regrets in his life. One of them, he knows, will be that he couldn’t plant himself in this town for a few months in order to properly court you; to introduce you, gradually, to the concept of nen. To the knowledge that you were his soul mate.

But it can’t be helped. He has to leave tomorrow night, come hell or high water. And he certainly won’t let you drown here a moment longer. It’s for your sake. You’ll come to realize that eventually, just as you will--in time--come to forgive him for what he must do.

You’ll no doubt regret letting down your barriers in the morning. But if you hadn’t been so keen to trust in someone, to trust in him, then he wouldn’t have gotten to see something of the real you underneath all of that built-up survival instinct. And didn’t you see something of him, too? He thinks you did. Just a moment, a spark, but it was there.

You sweet thing. He could hear you humming through the door earlier; heard you order room service (champagne and desserts) and he regretted not having Shalnark swoop in during dinner to set up some security cameras.

The key to your room feels heavy in his hand. On this side, he is simply himself, staring ahead as the red thread of his soulmate leads away from him. But once he turns it into the lock and quietly opens the door, there will be nothing between you but sleep.

He opens the door and relishes in the way the thread sags even further downward. If only you could have seen how beautiful the thread looked during dinner, all tangled up as he clasped your hand in his. That’s how the thread was meant to look. Not tight and taut and unforgiving.

You’re fast asleep when he silently enters the room and unlocks the deadbolt so that Shalnark can help him remove you from the premises. Curled up underneath the covers, you look like you’re in bliss. It’s likely the first restful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Months? Years?

How awful for you, to wake up tomorrow and realize that you’re no longer in the hotel bed. And that he’s the one to blame for it. How awful for him, too, to lose his grasp on the tentatively pleasant and revealing evening you had together. But he doesn’t think you’ll be empathetic on that matter. Not for a while, anyway.

He sits down on the bed next to you and it takes a considerable amount of self-control not to curl up against you. It’s not worth the risk of you waking, although the tranquilizer in his pocket could be jabbed into your thigh early, if need be.

Besides… you’ll have a lifetime of nights together after this.

There’s no need to rush what is finally his to keep forever.

#yandere chrollo #yandere hunter x hunter #chrollo x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo lucilfer #afterwitch writes

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anthurak · 3 months

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So with everything we learned and saw in Episode 4 from Angel, Valentino, Charlie and Husk, here’s a little theory on how the Hotel crew saving Angel from Valentino might play out. Particularly in how Husk’s status as a former Overlord may factor into things.

Because I have a hunch it’s actually going to be Husk, rather than Charlie who gets fed up first and goes out to make a real attempt at getting Angel away from Valentino, given everything we saw between Husk and Angel in this episode. Specifically, Husk aims to lure Valentino into gambling for Angel’s contract.

Now that raises the question of what exactly Husk could gamble with. I see two possibilities:

Option One, Husk full on bluffs Valentino that he still has substantial power as an Overlord and has been hiding it all this time, tempting him with more souls and power. And as we’ve seen most notably in Episode 2, Val in kind of a massive fucking idiot, so I could see him actually falling for this. Essentially, Husk gambles with nothing, save his own soul, for a chance to save Angel.

Option Two, Husk actually gets his power BACK from Alastor. Specifically through fulfilling some mysterious, nebulous condition Alastor set up for him. It could even be that this is what sets up Husk to gamble Val for Angel’s freedom. Alastor returns Husk’s power as an Overlord because he’s curious as to what Husk will do with it now. Which we see, is putting it all on the line again for a chance to save Angel.

Whichever way we get to it, we find Husk in a high-stakes card game with Valentino. And of course, Husk does the classic trope of NOT telling his friends or even the guy he’s doing this for what he’s doing to ‘keep them safe’ and all that. Of course, they do find out. Which will come into play later…

As for the all-important gamble; Husk actually does WIN legitimately against Valentino. However, because Valentino is… well, Valentino he welches on the deal and attacks Husk, and perhaps a recently arrived Angel as well.

Now in the event that Husk was bluffing Valentino the whole time and is actually helpless against a fully-powered Overlord, this would be when Alastor, from afar, actually returns Husk’s own power as an Overlord as some offhand, magnanimous whim. Which of course now allows Husk to actually fight back against Valentino.

What ensues is a full and proper fight between Husk/Angel and Valentino, with all the requisite emotional drama of Angel and Husk admitting their feelings for each other and all of Valentino’s shittiness as a person coming out in force. Maybe like an mlm version of the Bees vs. Adam fight.

However, despite getting his power as an Overlord back, Husk ultimately turns out to not be as powerful as Valentino. Alternatively, perhaps he never gets his power back at all and we just skip to here from Husk winning the bet. Whichever way we get here, Husk and Angel are now at the non-existent mercy of Valentino.

Which is precisely when CHARLIE shows up.

And I imagine what ensues plays out in a flash. Like everyone is only just registering that Charlie has appeared when suddenly everything is on fire. We get only the briefest glimpses, perhaps only in silhouette, of the full-sized horns on Charlie’s head, the great leathery wings coming out of her back and the pitchfork in her hand before she has Valentino by the throat and the mothman starts BURNING, screaming in pain as he is consumed in hellfire.

Basically, I feel that after this episode we are going to see Husk be the one to step up first to try and save Angel from Valentino, given everything we saw between the pair this episode. But at the same time, I think the interactions between Charlie and Valentino, particularly Charlie starting to transform in rage, sets her up as the one who’s going to ultimately put Val down. Specifically via giving us a glimpse at Charlie’s true power.

And I do say glimpse because I imagine the full and proper reveal of Charlie’s ‘Devil Form’ is almost certainly going to be saved for when she’s forced to take on the likes of Adam and the Exorcists, the ones who have been set-up as proper antagonists to Charlie herself.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin theory #hazbin rambling #angel dust #hazbin husk #huskerdust #husk #hazbin valentino #charlie morningstar #devil!charlie #how valentino dies a horrible painful death theory

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lil-quinnie · 4 months

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If he die, he die.

Warning +18 sitting on Eddie's face, fingering, oral (f reciving), male masturbation, angst, smut

Summary college au You and Eddie have a friendship with benefits, he always made it clear that it wouldn't go beyond that, but would it?

F!boy Eddie x Plus size reader

“C’mon baby, I need it” Eddie begged you again. It’s getting boring with all his insistence on that. Of course you wanna satisfy all the little fantasies in Eddie’s head, but this one, specifically this one, made you shiver just imagining.

“Jesus Eddie, I already told you no” you rolled your eyes while Eddie followed you through the corridors of the college “I don’t think I can’t do it” you shout- whisper back to him.

“But you can try you know… with me, I mean”

You push past the exit door, looking for the first free spot you could sit and smoke a little before going back to your classes “Shut up! Are you gonna give up on this one day?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear, his velvet voice invading your soul, causing tickles behind your ear, he continue, “I can tell you are stressed” His big hands were giving your shoulders a strong squeeze, “look how tense you are, you can come to my room later and I’ll help you with that babygirl”. His smirk grew bigger when he noticed your thighs clenching together, “see ya round” and he left.

That same night you knocked at his dorm room, which he opened almost immediately revealing a cocky smile on his face, hair in a low bun and shirtless, “of course” you thought. He only nodded with his head, giving you space to enter the room like all the other times you knocked at his door for the same sadistic reason.

It don’t took long for him have you naked and pinned down his bed, his tongue buried in your warm pussy “fuck princess, sweetest pussy I ever had” he said muffled. Your hands in his locks, bringing his face impossible closer to you core, grinding and moaning like nobody else ever made you do it.

He turned you into a needy slut and he needed you this way.

He started to lap your pussy so soft you didn’t feel it at first, you held your body still,while he painfully, so fucking slowly, sucked at your sore nub.

He yanked your hands off him every time you tried to hold his head where you needed him most. “More Eddie, please I need more” you cried at the high of your frustration, he is usually mean with you, but always gave you a fucking mindblowing orgasm…

Today, otherwise, he was leading you until the edge of your limit “I need you, please, I want to cum Eddie”.

He lifted his head, his glistening chin shining through the dim-light of his room.

He laughed through his nose “Poor baby” his hands traveled through your plush tights ‘till your soft tummy, avoiding your dripping pussy “Nobody had touched this tight pussy, huh?”

Yeah!

All the guys who had asked you out, mysteriously gave up some hours later, So yes!!!, nobody had touched your pussy in a long time. Eddie thinks it's cute how you are clueless of what he was doing over your back. He could fuck whoever he wants, of course he could, but you? “oh! fuck no.” You were too good for them, whoever it was, you were just too good.

“Please…” it was a mere whisper between the wet noises of Eddie’s lips around your swollen clit.

“Sit on my face” he gave a last kiss at your clit “make yourself cum in my face pretty girl”

Eddie took your lack of answer as a yes, and before you could say anything, he was pushing your leg over his naked chest, your exposed pussy so close of his mouth, he salivated

“Eddie I…” his hands hold a strong grip on your thighs, leaving purple digits on your skin, pushing you further to his face “I am not asking anymore”.

His voice was darker, you could only nod timidly, he rolled his tattooed back on the mattress while liking his lips, his eyes drinking for all your naked body “the best sit of the house for my favourite girl” fuck he shouldn’t had said that, but right now he was to lost in your dripping pussy to care.

You shyly swung your leg over his head, positioning your pussy in the center of the insistent boy's face, his large calloused hands slid across the skin of your thick thighs until his fingers sank into the flesh of your hips. "That's it, it wasn't that difficult was it, pretty girl?" he placed kisses on the inside of your thighs between the pauses in his words, Eddie didn't wait long to attack your pussy, he gathered all your juices on his tongue before trying to fuck your thight hole If it had been at another time, in another position, you were sure you would have liked it already.

The pain started to radiate through your knee as you tried to hold all your weight while Eddie tried to pull you closer and closer to his mouth "babe... what are you doing?" he asked, adjusting himself between your legs so he could look at you, “are you okay?”

You thought about opening the bedroom door and running out or even jumping out the window, if it weren't for the lack of clothes "I...I don't know if that's a good idea Eddie, I'm..." the boy's eyebrows came together, you didn't know if he was confused or angry at your words "what? you are what?"

On impulse, you tried to cover your naked body with your arms, sitting next to him on the bed "I'm FAT" bringing one of his pillows to your lap " ‘m not just like the other girls you usually bring here Eddie, I can't sit on your face without killing you" you said surgically.

He rested his body on his elbows leveling his gaze with yours "though you were a virgo baby" he said trying to cheer up your mood, which had the opposite effect on you "idiot" you said as you got up from the bed

"Come on, love! I'm sorry, I was just messing with you", he said as he guided you by your wrists back to the bed, his fingers were light on your skin "Do you want to talk about it?" His big eyes were staring at your naked body, his tongue involuntarily moistening the lips that were just now so close to your sweet pussy, reminding you of your vulnerable state, covering your body with your arms crossed, shaking your head negatively.

"You know, I wouldn't ask you if I thought I couldn't handle it" he began meekly as he kissed the length of your arm up to your neck, worshiping your stomach with his free hand, teasing your nipple in the process "I want to feel the full weight of your thighs around my face, baby"

His lips sucking bruises on your neck, you were already clenching your thighs "Can you do this for me, baby?" he started to push himself back onto the bed pulling you with him, making you straddle his lap again.

He never broke eye contact, not once, which made your excitement almost run down your legs. "I don't care if you choke me with that pretty pussy of yours."

His thumb began to tease your clit, making you seek more friction, moaning like a needy slut, "Sit on my face, pretty girl, if I die, I die."

you couldn't take it anymore "if he dies...he dies" that was what you had in your head when, without thinking, you sat on his face, with all your weight. The first thing you felt was his nose meeting with your clit, making a shiver down your spine. Eddie's strong hands held firmly on your thighs, holding you in the position he wanted more, against his face.

His tongue explored all your pussy, fucking your hole calmly, feeling the taste of all your juices. You rode his face, holding his hair between your fingers to keep you balanced as you rubbed your pussy in Eddie's beautiful face.

Eddie sucked your clicks fervently, sliding his tongue inside you, every time you wiggled in his face. His muffled moans were taking you to the limit until he turned you to the bed without any prior explanation. Before you managed to protest, Eddie started explaining himself as he opened your legs exposing your wet pussy to him, lying on his belly, kissing the inside of your thigh in the process "Fuck, your pussy is so damn good" Kissing your lips lightly.

"Please, Eddie" he has you begging even without knowing what for.

“shhh! sweet Girl, I'm going to take care of you" you started to feel Eddie's fingers teasing your clit with small circles, the first digit easily entered inside you, massaging that spongy place that made your eyes roll "but before I have to ... " his words were cut by the noise of his zipper opening "I'm hard as fuck, almost cumming…fuck" his second finger came in more difficult "so tight, just for me"

He fucked your pussy with his fingers and sucked your clit like a hungry man while masturbating. The moans were mixed with the song playing in the back of the room, Eddie could feel you throbbing on his fingers, which brought a mischievous smile to the boy's lips. "Cum for me princess, that’s it, good fucking girl"

By the shaking voice, you knew he was close too, what made you hump your pussy against his face more vigorously, his fingers did not slow the rhythm as they hit the right place inside your already puffy cunt, you felt your orgasm washing you while Eddie's hoarse voice was guiding you for him. "So good for me, I missed you ... I missed this pussy so much" he finished the sentence painting your belly with the white strings of his come.

Eddie's sweaty body lay next to yours, a satisfied smile between his swollen, pink lips. "That was..." he started the sentence and you cut him off in the middle with your loud laugh, "Yeah...that was" you replied, already showing signs of getting up from the bed

"Stay" he said, holding your arm and stroking it with his thumb "at least a little longer, it's been a while you know"

"yeah, yeah ok, maybe we can watch a movie or something" you offered as you put your t-shirt back on, remembering that nothing stopped Eddie from seeing his entire body with the blue light of the tv against his skin

"Yeah, or something" he said with humor in his voice.

You got comfortable in Eddie's bed, next to him, with his scent filling your nose. You knew what your relationship with Eddie was, it was casual. He made it very clear every time that he noticed any sign of feelings you had for him, and despite it hurting, you accepted the conditions he imposed, as long as it didn't get in the way of your friendship.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, placing a kiss on your hand.

"I missed you this week, you disappeared" he whispered in his ear, "Exam week, sorry" you whispered back but he didn't buy that excuse

"I mean it" he said "I even looked for you but Steve said you were busy every time I asked" you could feel the tone of jealousy in the voice of the man who looked at you as if asking for an explanation "yes, I was… I was helping Steve study and it took a lot of time out of my day, that's all"

"So choosing Stevie over me?" he said, teasing you and poking your body, trying to tickle you "NOOO" you laughed loudly and tried to get away from the boy's embrace while the game was cut off with three loud knocks on the door.

"Shit" Eddie said, as he got out of bed trying to put his pants back on, he couldn't even open the door properly when two skinny arms pulled his head in for a hot kiss.

Eddie let himself be carried away by the kiss for too long, as you got up from the bed and gathered your things to leave the room, knowing full well that that lump in your throat had been caused by you.

Before you could put it all together, her voice invaded your ears "I came to save you when I found out who you were with", the girl said loudly, looking you up and down with that look of disdain.

You passed by the two like lightning, not waiting for Eddie's response, rushing down the hallway only stopping walking when his voice was no longer heard, you could no longer hold back the tears contained in your eyes when his head went encountering something hard

“Fucking hell” you said With your hand on your forehead, you saw Steve's broad back before hugging him and starting to cry. He didn't ask any questions, he just hugged you back as you calmed down, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings until he got a smile from you, guiding you away from his and Eddie's dorm.

A scene that did not go unnoticed by a jealous Eddie.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #f!boy eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you

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dingustripas · 1 year

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I just finished watching Glass Onion for the third time so now you get to hear my rant about it but the details are out of order in the timeline because I’m lazy

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

When Miles lifts the gun off of Duke, we can actually see it pre-Blanc explaining it. The scene where the two hug you can see Miles take the gun and slip it into the back of his jeans.

Following the gun thing, we, the viewers actually SEE the gun itself (pre-Blanc’s explanation) when Miles goes back to the mini bar to put it in the ice bucket. Although it’s kind of hard to see it’s very clearly a gun but our eyes manipulate our minds into thinking it’s a drink because it is indeed a minibar.

They show how Miles places the drink in Dukes hand pre Blanc’s explanation but quickly distract us with the groups dynamic and Birdie.

Phillip is skeptical of Helen when she asks for Blanc, we can assume that he and Blanc have had negative run ins with people from jobs. Also Phillip might be judging Helen’s character, who she is, because he doesn’t want to put Blanc into a situation where he’s in true danger. He’s a detective not Batman.

Birdies mask at the beginning of the movie at the boat is just fucking chains across her face in diamond pattern.

Blanc doesn’t have a gag reflex when the dude in the white suit puts Miles “covid vax” down his throat. (Bc he’s 🏳️‍🌈)

Andi, when she first comes up with the idea for Alpha and starts working with Miles, is wearing dark colors. The dark blue pinstripe suit, her completely black ensamble when we see her at the Glass Onion (the bar). But when she’s challenging Miles she’s wearing both Black and white. At the trial she’s wearing a light almost off white suit. Why is this important? Because what color is Helen wearing when she shuts miles down? White. The color white is, in itself, a color that symbolizes Miles downfall.

Connecting back to the white idea, Whiskey is wearing all white (her bathing suit) when she reveals crucial information about Miles giving her the Taurus necklace for her birthday. (Which leads to his downfall when Blanc puts 2+2 together that he killed Andi)

“Im really bad at dumb things” -Blanc. The reason he didn’t catch on to what was going on with Miles earlier was because Miles is stupid. Miles is so dumb that he fucking befuddled Blanc because Miles is so stupid.

Blanc isn’t uncomfortable about his arousal around Birdie when she put her legs up on him while Miles talks about being ‘Disrupters’. He’s uncomfortable because he’s GAY and has a BOYFRIEND/HUSBAND.

There’s a bunch of owls and small trinkets of birds in Birdies room.

The movie, at the very beginning, with Miles mystery invitation box thing hints at where the envelope is hidden. The fibonacci sequence on the box has the center blocked out in black, where we will later see in the film is red which is where Miles is hiding the envelope. For fucks sake the movie even goes out of its way, with Dukes mother, to point out the sequence. (“The first one’s a fibonacci sequence” -Dukes mom).

During the dinner Whiskey is wearing the same golden chain body jewelry that Birdie was wearing earlier at the pool. So this could mean two things: 1. They have the same chain and 2. Whiskey borrowed the chain from Birdie.

Now connecting to my first point about the chain jewelry above. The reason why Miles likes Whiskey, despite her sleeping with him for the sake of Dukes channel, is because Whiskey reminds him of younger Birdie. Birdie even talks to Peg about how dazzled and amazed Miles was when he first met her and how she wishes it was like that again. Then when they’re smashing the glass sculptures, the first thing Whiskey smashes is a sculpture of a bird. Hence smashing Miles perception of her as another person he can use like he used Birdie.

“You have him turn around so he can have deniability” -Aaron Burr in Hamilton (Basically what Blanc was thinking when he walked out of the room)

When Blanc is trying to light his cigar in the “Smokeless garden” the reason the alarms go off is because because just the smoke and small flames from Blanc’s cigar could cause “another Hindenburg”.

The ending scene with Helen and Blanc after Blanc asks her if she’s ready to go home, Helen’s sitting stance mimics the Mona Lisa. Miles said “It all started with her” in reference to his success being inspired by the Mona Lisa. But it all ended with Helen and her stance at the end mimicking the Mona Lisa is meant to represent that. The beginning and end of Miles Bron.

Blanc refers to alchol as offering Helen “some courage”. Ofc as we all know alcohol is commonly referred to as “Liquid Courage”.

We should’ve known Miles was the killer for this simple reason: The glass he handed to Duke. Duke dying holding Miles’s glass is literally like a signed note. Duke died with Miles name literally written on the crime scene.

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slowbison · 10 months

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Bottom! Leon S. Kennedy x Top! Male Reader

Summary: Leon had been caught off guard and got hurt in the process. Running out of supplies, you come across the merchant who offers a questionable solution which you take, in an effort to help Leon. Later on, he notices something rather wet staining his shirt. Coming from his nipples.

words: 2.3k

warnings: male lactation, praising, frottage, hand jobs

Heavy footsteps echoed behind you as you frantically scanned the area for any temporary shelter. Your eyes landed on a dilapidated home in the near distance that looked good enough to barricade. Determination set across your face, you adjusted your hold on the blonde man next to your waist and rushed forwards, until a familiar gravely voice rang out to you.

“Hey there stranger, got a couple of goodies in stock. C’mere and take a look” the shadowy man called, signaling over to his makeshift booth.

“Now’s not the time, I’ll come back later if I can. There’s a whole swarm behind me, I suggest that you leave.” You warned, sounds of angry grumbling and footsteps slowly approaching. The man laughed and opened up his trench coat, revealing a series of ammo, guns, bombs, and a mysterious red liquid vial.

“C’mon now, how do ya expect to protect the lad on yer shoulder if ya ain’t got the gear or the fixing’s?” The merchant asked, eyeing the unconscious blonde man whose breathing turned ragged, quiet groans slipping out. Your mind started racing as you recalled your dwindling supply of herbs and the last few shots that were left in your gun, firing so many at the villagers behind that just seemed never ending.

The merchant sensing your conflict chirped up “Since you’ve been a rather generous paying customer, I’ll give this to yer for free,” grabbing the small red vial from his pocket into the air for you to take. You eyed it suspiciously as he had never had this in stock during your sudden run-ins with each other and asked for a description.

“It’s an experimental drug of mine that I’ve been whiffing up, guaranteed to heal major wounds. It ain’t gonna kill ya if that’s whatcha worried about, heheh.” You eyed it some more before, a loud whine came from your side. As the man began jerking in pain, holding onto his side with a piece of cloth, a slight hint of blood shining. Earlier, he had made the mistake of letting his guard down at an old villager that jabbed a pitchfork at him, you axed the grandma in the head for that. Pocketing the vial, you threw out a handful of Pesetas, pointing at some ammo and few grenades since no herbs were available.

The merchant happily gave them out to you, scooping up the money before nodding at you. “Pleasure doing business stranger, wish yer all the best.” Disappearing into the woods soon after, forging for supplies to sell at the next encounter. You readjust your hold and resumed a fast pace to the for-mentioned home.

Reaching at the entrance, you swung it open and scanned around the room. It was a bit shabby, but so were all the homes in this insane village. The floors were slightly cracked along with walls, there were a few pieces of furniture that still seemed functional and a decent looking bed sat in the corner. Dropping him off at the bed, you went to the side of the door and grabbed the wardrobe, pushing it in-front of the door. You closed the window next to the bed using a piece of wood on the floor, hammering it shut with some nails. Though you were tempted to light the furnace for some heat, it would draw unwanted attention which was the last thing you wanted right now.

Soft groaning could be heard from the bed at your side as you put down the hammer on a dresser, rushing to the man’s side. Leon’s face was scrunched up in pain from the stab wound, still slowly leaking blood. You lifted his head into your arms, gently shushing him and dug your hands into your pocket for the vial. “Hey, it’s alright Leon, I’ve got you okay? Just hang on for me love.” You bit at the cork sealing the vial - spitting it in some corner and brought it to Leon’s mouth. “Open up darling, this will help the pain… I hope” You whispered, tilting it up as the liquid creeped into his mouth.

The taste wasn’t ideal, but it held a soft cherry taste with a bit of a burn which led to a heaved cough. “You did good Leon, always good for me” You praised, caressing the side of his face watching as his complexion became better thanks to the drug, noting to give a nice tip for the merchant later.

You moved to the wall facing the bed and rearranged your positions with his chest in your lap, head cradled in your arms. You stilled, hearing the sounds of multiple footsteps outside the boarded window, torch light creeping at the corners. The villagers growled and lingered around the house before taking off at the sound of a distant noise, yelling along the way.

Letting out a relaxed breath that you didn’t realize you were holding, glanced down at the man in your arms and ran your hand in his hair. “I won’t let them near you, so take a nice nap for me.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head. Leon cuddled closer to you, breathing finally stabilized and the wound seemingly disappeared. You smiled and drummed your fingers on his chest, keeping watch over the sleeping man.

Sometime later, Leon groggily woke up with a slight hint of red dusting his cheeks. “Ugh, I feel like I was stabbed by something.” He grumbled, rubbing his hand on his head. You chuckled, lifting his head up to peck his lips, “That’s cause you were, got a free drug thing from the merchant while we were coming here.”

Leon gave you an incredulous look.

“You gave me some random drug from the merchant? Much less free?”

You nervously smiled, playing with a curl in his hair, “He said it wouldn’t kill you, plus there isn’t enough herbs that could’ve helped.” Leon raised his head slightly, squinting at your face as you continued, “On the bright side it worked didn’t it?”

He sighed, falling back to your arms and closed his eyes. “Is there also a reason why my chest is wet?” he muttered, turning to face you. A confused look crossed your face as you looked down at the wet spots donning his shirt around the nipples. “Well he did say it was experimental…” You muttered, lifting a hand to squeeze the pec. A low moan escaped from Leon, slapping a hand on his mouth before batting your hand away.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He hissed, more liquid staining his shirt.

“Examining your chest, now if you would kindly cooperate with me agent” You said, tugging at the straps for him to help remove. Leon reluctantly sits up to straddle your thighs and removes the holster, tugging up at his shirt to reveal two puffy nipples that dripped with white substance and a much rounder chest than usual. Grinning at the embarrassed look he gave you. “The assessment won’t take long now, be good until then.”

Leon quietly grumbled as you moved closer to his chest, grabbing at his pec once again — giving it a good squeeze. Leon let out a choked moan at the action and unknowingly pressed his chest closer to your palm. The sounds he made as you gently massaged the right swollen pec went straight to your dick which made you even more curious…

You latched onto his left nipple and sucked, relishing at the savory taste that flowed in your mouth, letting out a pleased groan. Sensing slight relief from his chest, he whined and locked his fingers in your hair - pulling you closer before feeling your hard dick against his own.

“You- you’re enjoying this” He said, face flushed.

You released the puffy nipple with a soft pop, flicking your tongue to catch any remaining drops. Grinning up at him.

“We’ve gotta make the best out of this situation and I’m willing to take the fall” You said, licking your lips. “Besides, you seem to be enjoying this just as much as me.” Leon, embarrassed, looks away before straightening his back and jutting out his chest. “Then hurry up… don’t just stare, do something.” He refused to admit that he found you feeding from him rather hot and boner inducing, as the grip on your hair got tighter. The thought of you fucking him while suckling milk from his teats spurring him on, whimpering at the the idea.

“With pleasure, love.” You chuckled, leaning in to resume your suckling at the nub, flavor bursting in your mouth. Leon threw his head back moaning, rolling his hips against yours, cock straining painfully in his pants. You could feel your head getting fuzzy, switching to the right nipple when you couldn’t suckle anymore milk while returning the man’s eager grinding with your own rocking.

The taste was absolutely heavenly and you could definitely get addicted to the taste, perhaps already so as you pulled more into your mouth, cock leaking in your pants. Leon whines were a mixture of relief and want, begging for more friction.

“Please, I-I need more, fuck please touch me,” He begged, humping helplessly on your crotch.

You dug your hands into his pants blindly going as you refused to leave his chest, fumbling to unbuckle his belt. Slipping a hand passed his underwear, pulling it down to free his leaking cock, doing the same for your own matching prick. Bringing them together with one hand, you set a rather fast pace — using the pre cum as lube.

Leon sobbed at the feeling, squirming as he could feel himself nearing his orgasm. Your hold on hips got stronger, thrusting faster and more slippery as you neared yourself as well. There were a few drops of milk left that you savored, swirling your tongue around the bud hoping to ease more out, releasing the sensitive areola when you couldn’t pull anymore.

You settled for kissing and marking his chest, focusing on drawing out more noises from the blonde. Who whined, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. “More, ah- I’m close.. mhpm, please keep going.” He cried, losing himself more in the pleasure. You moved from his chest to his neck, trailing up to his jaw before attacking his lips, devouring his moans.

He could taste himself in your mouth, finding it odd, but it didn’t stop him from fucking your hand more. You felt yourself nearing eruption and wrapped your hand tighter, moving to whisper into his ear, “My good boy, waiting for me. You can cum love.”

Leon let out a broken moan, spilling into your hand and onto his torso, cock twitching as he lightly humped your hand. You followed soon after, mixing your release with his — cum trailing down your hand. Chest heaving, Leon draped himself over you, head resting at your shoulder. You kissed his nape as you wiped the cum on the sheets, tucking yourself and him back in your pants.

Running circles on his back, waiting for his breathing to stabilize before speaking. “We have to keep moving, love. They’ll be back with possibly more.”

Leon sighed, nuzzling your neck before moving to stand, fixing his shirt and putting his holster back on. “Well let’s get moving then, the sooner the better I guess,” he grumbled.

You followed after him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck as a silent apology. He turned to kiss you properly before breaking and going to push the wardrobe blocking the door.

Carefully making your way outside, you traversed through the village and onto a beaten down log path in the woods. Coming up to the entrance of a desolate church, killing a few villagers as you made your way further in. In the distance there was a fickle purple flame that grew brighter as you got closer.

“‘Ello strangers, good to see ya.” The merchant greeted, eyeing the now conscious blonde. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, last I seen ya, you were as sick as a dog. Good to see the puppy back at full health heheh.”

“Very funny, now do you want to do some business or not?” Leon rolled his eyes and scanned the items the merchant had in stock, purchasing a few before walking over to stand at the church door.

You walked up buying a few before dropping in low voice, one where Leon couldn’t hear you. “So uh, about that experimental drug of yours… got anymore in the back,” throwing some extra pesetas on the table. Though you couldn’t see it, the merchant grinned, understanding the implication and opened a hidden pocket with the same red vial from before.

“Do hope it meets your desires, stranger.” He chuckled, slipping it into your hands as you stealthily tucked it in your pocket.

“Hey what’s the hold up?” Leon yelled, raising a brow at the both of you. The merchant let out a deep laugh before waving him away. You nodded at him before walking over to Leon, patting his shoulder.

“Let’s go in, wouldn’t want to miss out on any action” You purred, leaving a puzzled Leon who trudged behind you.

“What did you buy?”

“Oh nothing really, just a little treat was all.”

“Yeah that’s totally not something to be worried about at all.”

“Haha, don’t worry about it love, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

Leon blushed and bit his lip, guessing what it may be and definitely tried not to think about it again. You grinned watching the blonde in the corner of your eye, playing with the vial in your pocket. You couldn’t wait to give it to him.

a/n: hey y'all, finally dropped the leon fic (yippie). hope y'all enjoyed this one, kinda proud of this one honestly and gyaatt damn, have y'all have been sweet to me with all the praises for my last miguel o'hara fic. got some more on that cooking, i see your requests and it got me giggling and kickin feeties n' shit. working on those after this, got a structure down on that. also i'm in the process of making a masterlist for y'all to easily go through my stuff, i never thought i would write as much as i do, but it's been real fun. i will say that after like 4 more drops (requests included), i'm gonna take a short break. anyways that's all for now.

up next: miguel wears a collar with a bell and you fuck him???. whatttt. teehee.

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nexysworld · 8 months

Text

Summary: Leon Kennedy is your new neighbor, and seemingly a great guy; handsome, funny, sweet, mysterious. It doesn't take long until you're falling for him hard and fast. But things take a turn after the death of someone close to you. Strange events keep happening around you, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion. Desperate for a sense of normalcy, you rely heavily on Leon. He plays his part well, always being there for you, always being your safe space. There's only one problem, unbeknownst to you, his obsession towards you is growing and as it does, so too does the measures he'll take to watch over you, and more importantly make you his.

Pairing: Yandere!Leon x Fem!Reader

Tags: NSFW, Dead Dove, Dubcon, Kidnapping, Stalking, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, violence, gore, MDNI, masturbation, murder, slow burn.

Read on AO3 || Ask Box Open || Masterlist

You had lived in this apartment since the day you moved out of your parent’s house. It was small, only a single bedroom located in a rougher part of the city. While the appliances hadn’t been updated since the 90’s and the place looked like a disaster, you did your best to make the beat down apartment your own. A few fresh coats of paint on the yellowed walls and some throw rugs to cover the stained and now flattened shag rug and boom — not too shabby.

It was home.

Living in such a rundown building meant that the turnover rate for neighbors was quite high, people always coming and going. None really caught your attention except for the few long-term tenants that seemed to have no intention of leaving. So of course when a new person moved in on the other side of Mrs. Wilson, the sweet elderly woman who shared the apartment next door, you paid no mind.

In fact, it wasn’t until several weeks later that you had even seen who the new neighbor was. Returning from work, you watched Tina, the girl from 202 painfully trying to hit on – what you could only describe as – an absolute tank of a man.

Sandy blonde hair was slicked back out of his face revealing a handsome mesh of chiseled and soft features. He had clearly been accosted on his way back from exercising, clad in black basketball shorts and a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt, sleeves straining against his massive biceps. His earbuds were tossed over his shoulder as he talked to the girl, music still playing quietly through them. Turning to the wall of shared mailboxes, you tried your best to not stare or eavesdrop, but damn was it hard. As you opened the small metal door, you couldn’t keep your eyes from darting back to him.

‘I thought guys like him only existed in magazines.’ You thought to yourself, collecting the mail – even taking an extra moment to slowly sort through it where you were, buying more time to be nosy. It was obvious he was not into her at all.

“Soooo Leon..” Tina said awkwardly, twirling her finger through her choppy red hair, the metal bracelets on her wrist clanging together with each movement, bubble gum gnashing between her pearly whites. “You listen to music while you work out?” “Uhh…yeah, sometimes.” He said almost flatly, scratching a spot on his slightly cleft chin.

“Oh that’s cool. What uh, what do you usually listen to?” She bit her red coated lip, and batted her lashes, it didn’t seem to garner any additional interest from the man.

“Rock music, I guess.” Another flat response, his jaw clenching ever so slightly before he resumed his neutral look.

“I like rock music. Uh…” You watched as she fumbled to try to come up with anything else to add, tapping her heeled boot against the floor.

“Look, it was real nice talking to you, but I have to go.” He said flashing a small smile before popping his earbuds back in and running up the stairs, not giving the girl a chance to respond.

‘Ouch, that was awkward. But damn even his voice is attractive.’ Stopping yourself from giggling, you collected the few pieces of non junk mail and made your way back to your apartment. There was the smallest amount of guilt bouncing at the back of your mind, knowing you shouldn’t be ogling men like that while having a boyfriend. ‘It’s not like I did anything. I didn’t even speak to the guy.’

About a week after that, you had your first real run-in with Leon. Heading out to work you saw Mrs. Wilson’s door ajar — definitely unusual as she didn’t tend to get many visitors besides yourself. Concerned for her, you poked your head through the opening. The familiar smell of mint and warm bread hit your senses, but you didn’t hear a thing.

Sliding inside you quietly poked around as you made your way to the back of the apartment, keeping an eye out in case anything nefarious was afoot. Much to your relief, the hall opened up into the living room at the back where you saw Mrs. Wilson. Next to her was another figure you hadn’t expected.

Leon was standing with one arm above his head, unscrewing the blackened lightbulb from the socket before replacing it with the fresh one he had in his other hand. Workout attire replaced with a pair of worn blue jeans and a long sleeve black shirt. “Oh thank you.” Mrs. Wilson said with her signature wrinkly smile. “You’re so kind to do this for me. I hate having to bug the sweet girl next door all the time, but you know the lights in this place tend to blow every time there’s a storm and I can’t get up on the chairs like I used to.” “No worries ma’am.” He said with a far brighter smile than he’d worn during his interaction with Tina. His hair was no longer slicked back either, instead it framed his face, soft and fluffy, accentuating his cheekbones. You couldn’t help but notice the tiny gap his shirt left while his arm was raised, just the smallest peek of a dusty blonde happy trail and the faintest hint of hard muscle. “Looks like you have a visitor.”

Leon turned his attention to you with a small nod before he flipped the switch on the wall to test the new light. It lit up, further illuminating the area with a soft yellow glow. “S-sorry.” You snapped out of it, raising your eyes to meet his. “I saw the door was open and I just wanted to make sure Grams was okay.”

“You’re always such a Darling.” The elderly woman said with a toothless grin aimed in your direction. There was a homeliness about the old woman that made you feel warm. “Mr. Kennedy here is such a sweet boy. Have you met him yet? He moved in next door a while ago and offered to help me with a few things.” “I told you Mrs. Wilson, call me Leon.” He said as he tossed the broken lightbulb into the small pink trash can by the kitchen counter. “And I don’t believe we have met. Nice to meet you. The name’s Leon, well I guess you already knew that. Leon Kennedy.” He added his last name, reaching out a hand to you.

“Nice to meet you too Leon. I’m glad to hear Grams has someone else to help take care of her. I live next door, in 306.” You couldn’t lie, your heart melted a little. ‘Handsome and kind? This guy must be a unicorn.’ You whisked the thought away again, the picture of your own boyfriend flashing behind your eyes again.

The vintage clock hung against the floral wallpaper cuckoo’d and chimed, indicating the top of the hour. “Oh shit—“

“Language!” Mrs. Wilson chimed. “You know it’s unbecoming of a lady to—“

“I meant, shoot. Sorry Grams. I’m just running late for work.” You wrapped an arm around her in a quick side hug. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to run.” Waving to Leon, you made a beeline for the door.

“Well Ms. 306, I guess I’ll be seeing you around.” He shouted after you.

“You too Mr. 302!”

Ever since, Leon became a regular in your routine. Short conversations in the hallway that always left you with butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help the way your muscles in your face stretched into a permanent grin that you couldn’t stave off for the life in you. How a man managed to be so stoic and corny at the same time you’d never know.

You ran errands for Mrs. Wilson together too, taking his Jeep out into the city. He would leave the top down and take the long way. Your hair would whip your face as you both sang along — poorly — to some dad rock mixtape Leon had. It seemed so fitting that he’d have an out of date tape player in his car, something so indescribably Leon.

He really seemed like a great guy and you were enamored to say the least — though you tried desperately not to be. ‘It’s just a harmless crush.’ You told yourself. ‘He’s not into you anyway. Leon’s just a nice guy, worlds out of your league.’

~~~~~

Cool air bit at your cheeks and nose while you leaned against the brick wall of the building. Derek was abysmally late, you had the feeling he was upset at you for some reason but unable to fathom why. Hoping that it wasn’t the reason for his current absence, you checked your phone again.

Still nothing. A sigh escaped your lips as you readjusted your jacket.

“Everything alright?” The voice was immediately recognizable and your face lit up into a smile before you even looked over at him.

“Hey Leon. Yeah everything’s fine, I’m just waiting on Derek.” You couldn’t be certain but you swore there was the slightest change in his expression, facial muscles contracting tightly before settling back into the lax warm look you were used to. “Oh. You know it’s not nice to keep a lady waiting.” Leaning against the wall next to you, he tilted his back to look up at the sky. He was wearing his brown bomber jacket that you found so attractive on him. A small part of you wondered how it would feel to wear it yourself, if it would smell like him. The other part of you was curious how a guy could afford such a nice brand name jacket, but lived in a place like this.

“Yeah well… I think he’s mad at me actually.” You moved some dirt back and forth with your foot. “Why’s that?” A thick blonde brow was raised with interest as he tilted his head to look down at you. The dull light of the street lamp lit up half his face, casting hard shadows on the other, it accentuated each of his features in a way that made you never want to stop looking.

“Wish I knew.” A dry laugh escaped your lips. As the wind picked up again, dust kicked up from the ground, blowing towards you along with some plant debris. You covered your face with the oversized jacket sleeve for a moment to protect your face.

You heard Leon chuckle. “Looks like you picked up a straggler.” He brought his hand up to your head, just above your ear and gently removed a small weed stem that had made its home in your hair.

“Thank you, I would’ve looked silly walking around like that.”

He lingered close to you for a moment, flicking the stem away before he brought his hand back to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Mhm, can’t have that.”

The moment felt intimate, and your heart beat out of time for a moment. You wanted to return the gesture, to say something, to do anything, but your brain was frazzled for a moment by the electric feel of his touch.

“Ahem.” Your head snapped in the other direction to see your boyfriend standing there leaning against his car, not having heard him drive by or even exit the vehicle.

“Have a good night Leon.” Quickly, you jerked away from his touch and ran over to your boyfriend, who had already started walking around to get back in the driver’s side of his car. Slipping into the passenger seat, you tried to lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, but he turned his head enough to dodge it. Shrinking back, you buckled up and rested your head against the window, looking out as the city blurred past. ‘Guess he is mad at me.’

You attempted to fumble through some radio stations, but Derek made it clear he didn’t appreciate it, reaching over and turning it off entirely after the third one. The forty minute ride felt like hours as the rest passed by in total silence.

His mood didn’t seem to improve at the movie theater either. Each little gesture of affection you attempted was immediately spurned. Every part of him radiated with negativity — and the thought of dinner afterwards made your stomach churn. A movie was a distraction and there was no requirement to talk, but sitting across from someone dead silent, that would be harder to deal with. The uncomfortableness of the situation caused your focus to drift again, only tuning in when a jumpscare appeared – unfortunately he left you to reel in your chair alone during those parts too. The movie ended, indicated by the overhead lights that suddenly appeared and the credits rolling on the screen. Derek was halfway out the door before you even finished grabbing your bag.

You had to run after him across the tacky carpeted floor of the theater and out intl the parking lot. “Why are you acting like this?” You pleaded, grabbing his hand before he could reach the car.

“Acting like what?” He asked coldly.

“Like this.” You gestured broadly towards him. “You’ve been cold to me the whole evening. Well actually more than just this evening.”

“Really? I honestly didn’t think you’d notice.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You know exactly what it means!” He finally shouted. He brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out a deep breath trying to calm himself. Of course the two of you had fought before, but he’d never acted like this. It didn’t help that you had no idea what he was even talking about. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now. You’ve been distant, canceling plans to ‘run errands’. When we are together all you ever do is talk about that stupid neighbor of yours — and then tonight, I catch him nearly eye fucking you right out in the open. You certainly didn’t seem to be bothered by it.”

“Derek….that’s not true. I — Leon’s just a friend, my neighbor I swear.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“What?”

“Are. You. Sleeping. With. Him?” He brought his eyes back up to meet yours, the look of hurt on his face made your stomach twist and heart ache.

“No! What? No, I wouldn't do that to you.” You assured, stepping towards him. “Come on, please don’t be like this. I’m sorry if it seems that way, I don’t realize I’m talking about him so much. I’d never —“

“Save it.” He said, pushing you away from him again. “I don’t believe you. I don’t even know why I came out here tonight.”

“Der—“

“I said save it!” He snapped.

“This isn’t fair!” You shouted in return. “Why drag me out here on this whole date if you were this upset? You could’ve brought it up this whole time”

“I did. I told you over a week ago I was sick of hearing about him. I asked you to stop seeing so much of him, you told me no.”

“Leon’s a friend, I’m not going to ruin my friendship with him because you’re being psycho and jealous.”

“I’m a psycho because I don’t like that my own girlfriend spends all her time with some guy that looks like he stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad? How about the fact you don’t even seem to care that I’m hurt I thought I’d have been more important — you know what? Forget this. Forget it.” He turned to walk around to the driver’s side of the car. “I’m over this. You want him? Have him. I’m not chasing you. I thought you were my future wife, I thought we’d have the picket fence, kids, all of it. But now I get how you feel about everything.”

He slammed the car door shut, started the engine, and began backing out of the spot. You banged on the window to get his attention. “What are you doing? You’re seriously just going to leave me here?”

“Call your boyfriend to come get you.” He sneered through the window before blasting off and out of the parking lot.

You were stunned, unable to move as you watched the car disappear. ‘He can’t be serious right now? He’ll be back right?’ Pulling your phone out of your pocket you checked the time, 10pm. Wanting to hide your shame from the few people staring at you, and deciding he just needed a little while to cool down, you sat on the sidewalk in front of the theater, hidden by a bush that extended out.

15 minutes passed. Nothing.

Dialing the familiar number it rang a few times before going to voicemail. You tried again, this time it went straight to voicemail.

10 more minutes passed and you tried to text him.

20 more minutes, still no response or call back.

The wind was picking up again, making it chilly even under your jacket, which you’d brought down over your knees to try and keep in more warmth. This part of the city you weren’t familiar with, and weren’t sure it was worth the risk of trying to walk home. Given the situation, calling Leon was the last thing you wanted to do, especially since he was probably asleep by now — not that it was his job to really come save you anyway.

Opening the Uber app on your phone, you put in the respective addresses. “$30? Not including a tip? Fuck.” You bit your lip in frustration. Technically you had enough, but it was the last of what was left in your account after bills.

Tapping your fingers along the cement, you shivered as a particular gust of wind leaked air into your jacket from the opening underneath. ‘Even if I did call Leon and he wasn’t mad I woke him up, that’s still a drive away. An Uber would be faster…but I do need groceries to sustain life.’

“This sucks.” You said out loud to yourself, burying your face into your knees, you had no clue what you were going to do and were running out of time to decide. By this time, the parking lot had emptied entirely, theater closing for the night. ‘Fuck it. I’ll just call and if he doesn’t answer I’ll order the stupid Uber.’

Opening his contact, the picture of him you’d taken at the park came up. Blonde hair pushed back and messy, one sea blue eye opened staring at your phone’s camera while the other was closed in a wink. You’d even convinced him to throw up a peace sign – it was so silly and so very Leon. Sighing, you began the call, letting the phone ring.

As it rang over and over again, you could swear you heard a familiar tune in the distance. It was very quiet, like someone was playing the radio several blocks over, but it tickled your ears all the same. You ended the call the moment it went to his voicemail, as you did you swore the song had ended too. ‘Weird, I must be hallucinating. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top, abandoned and crazy.’ You let out a dry laugh at the thought.

Luckily after a moment, the phone buzzed in your hand, heart fluttering a little when you saw his name pop up on your screen. “Hey.” You said softly.

“Hey there.” He replied, his voice sounding groggy.

“Sorry to uhm….sorry if I woke you up.”

“S’not a problem. Everything ok?”

“Well I uh….”

“What’s wrong?” His voice sounding more alert now, you heard some shifting on the other end of the line.

“Derek kind of ditched me at the theater. I’m a little stranded —“

“Need me to come get you?”

“If you don’t mind. But if you’re asleep —“

“No, it's fine. I’d rather make sure you’re okay anyway. Where are you at?”

“The theater up by main, across from the big shopping center.”

“I’ll be there in 15, ok?”

“15, are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? This a test?” There was a small chortle from his end. “Well it’s just that the apartment is nearly 40 minutes away? I hope you’re not planning on driving like a maniac.” There was a long moment of silence on the other end, so long it began to make you feel anxious. “Hey Leon, you still there?”

It was still another few seconds before his voice could be heard again. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry about that. I actually crashed at a friend's house after you left, so I’m nearby.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The wait for him to show up felt like an eternity, you watched each and every minute tick by on your phone, both giddy and nervous with anticipation. When his Jeep came to a stop in front of you, you bolted up with a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied with the same grin he always greeted you with. His hair was a little messy and he looked tired, making the guilt bubble up in your stomach more. “So….you gonna get in or?”

“Oh yeah.” Letting out a nervous laugh, you ran around to the passenger seat before hopping in. He had the heater on, not that it was doing much with the open top, but you appreciated every time the warmth hit your legs.

“So what exactly happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He leaned back more comfortably in his seat, driving with one hand as the other rested on the door.

“We just got into a fight….” You fidgeted with your phone as you gave him a glance in return. “He seems to think I’ve been cheating on him…or at least that I like someone else. I tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but you know…

“So he abandoned you? Just like that?” He asked bewildered.

“Yeah I guess he did…”

“That’s pretty shitty of him. I mean what if something happened to you?”

“Yeah it was… I don’t know…” You trailed off, not wanting to talk about it further, just dredging up those bad feelings. Instead, you opted to change the subject entirely. “Hey you know what’s weird?”

“No, what?”

“That one Nickelback song you like so much…you play it almost every time we’re in the Jeep together.”

“Oh, Far Away? Sure, what about it?”

“Well…as I was calling you, I swore I heard it. Was so weird, like a scene from a movie or something — maybe it was a sign that you’d come get me. Or I had a psychotic break and imagined the whole thing. Could be either one.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a chuckle. “I don’t know about the universe, but I am always here if you need me – even if you’ve lost your mind.” He tilted his head and gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Thanks Lee…” The rest of the ride home went smoothly — things falling back into place like they always did. Blasting music obnoxiously loud for the hour, singing along. He even stopped to get you milkshakes on the way back, despite your insistence that you were fine. In his defense, the logic of ‘no one can be upset with a milkshake’ made a lot of sense.

As the vehicle rolled in front of the building, he leaned over, swiping his thumb across the side of your mouth. “Had something there.” His tongue darted out, lapping the sticky white substance off of the digit.

“Oh.” The simple touch had that electric feeling sparking throughout your veins again. “Thank you….and thanks again for the ride.”

“No problem.”

Not knowing what else to say, you nodded and scurried from the vehicle back inside the building. He didn’t follow immediately behind you, having to properly park, which left you relieved.

The entire evening was a whirlwind of emotions and that last little interaction had your entire brain scrambling inside your skull. All you wanted was for the night to be over with, forgotten as you drifted to unconsciousness.

You took a quick shower before changing into your pajamas and all but flopping into the comfortable fortress of your bed.

Curling up into the soft bedding, you expected sleep to come over you quickly — but you were wrong. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could picture was that pink tongue darting out to lap up the milkshake from his thumb. His smile, his eyes on you. It made you shudder and clamp your legs together, heat rushing between them. You squirmed around tossing and turning, trying to get your mind to relax and to stave off the arousal that was hindering your sleep.

Nothing you did was working, finally deciding to just give in, sinking your hand down between your legs. ‘Just so I can sleep…’

Hand tracing gently along your slit through your panties, you spread your legs farther to give yourself more access. Closing your eyes you could vividly see his face between your legs, tongue out lapping at your panties the way he’d done to the ice cream.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you applied more pressure, rubbing the slick soaked fabric against your aching bud of pleasure. “Mmm Leon…” The comforter was slowly becoming suffocating, too hot. You tossed it off of yourself to the other side of the mattress, letting yourself feel the cool air as it rushed against your skin – nipples sensitive to the temperature change.

You brought your left hand up under the silken sleep shirt, circling one hard bud with a finger before pinching it lightly. The fingers of your right hand teasingly walked themselves up to the hem of the fabric, dipping inside the band to properly travel down. Air escaped your mouth once direct contact was made to your throbbing clit. “Leon…so good…”

In your little vision the man had moved to hook your legs over his shoulders to gain a better angle - the real you bucking your hips up against your fingers, desperate to add to the vision. “So good to me Lee….always so good to me….fuck…”

Your fingers slid up and down against yourself, left hand abandoning your breast to travel it’s way downward as well, two fingers slipping themselves within your soaking hole – desperately needing to clench around more than the nothingness you were left with. “So close….gonna…” The words caught in your throat as the pressure finally released itself, tingling warmth spreading from your core throughout your body. It was quick and rough, far from the best you’d ever had but it was exactly what you needed.

The illusion finally cracked and you were left with sore arms, staring up at the ceiling – momentarily sated and relieved, again hoping sleep would take you quickly.

A/N: If this looks familiar, it's a total rewrite/reboot of my yandere!leon series. This original series was inspired by @explorevenus' Something Permanent series. Other inspirations include @gigabyte-flare, @lipglossanon, and @girldungeon's works. Special shoutout to @elfven-blog and her superior pinterest skills for the aesthetic pics used in the banner.

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blues824 · 5 months

Note

Hello again bestie coming back with the yandere pic request but for sebek feel free to do what you want to go feral bestie❤️.

The things I would let this man do to and for me…

Warning: This is a Yandere fic. I do not condone this behavior in real life.

Sebek Zigvolt

There was little time until he got in.

You were panting, out of breath from running back to your dormitory, and you immediately started barricading your front door. You knew it wouldn’t be enough, however, so you used whatever energy you have left to sprint to your room, where you further barricaded yourself into it.

“Y/N WHERE ARE YOU?!” A shout came from outside, scaring you out of your wits and making more tears fall from your eyes.

Why couldn’t he just LEAVE YOU ALONE?!

He already hurt your friends, you remember seeing Ace coughing up blood because of what he had done. Deuce had a blackened eye. Epel and Jack didn’t look much better. Of course, this was not without struggle. They did manage to deal some damage, but not enough to get him to stop chasing after you.

“Darling, there you are!”

Shit, you forgot about the window!

He was standing on a broom to float, and even though you sat on the opposite side of the room, you could see the figurative delusional hearts in his eyes. Quickly, he used his fist to punch out the glass pane of the window, and he quickly got into your room.

However, what he saw only made him angrier. He saw the armchair, the table, and the nightstand pressed against the door, and he immediately knew what you were trying to do.

“Y/N, were you trying to hide from me? Trying to keep me from you?! Well, you should’ve known that it wasn’t going to work!” He got closer and closer, shouting, making you curl up further and further into yourself.

You knew this wasn’t the Sebek that you had grown to care for. He was under the influence of a potion. A few students thought it would be a funny idea to prank the knight and get him to follow you around like a puppy. However, he went total psycho and possessive.

Earlier today, you sought out your friends to ask for their help in getting you away from him until the potion wore off. However, he managed to find you in Heartslabyul, where you were hiding out, and he lashed out and beat your friends to a pulp.

Jack fought bravely, managing to scratch him and punch Sebek in the nose, which broke something, as blood dripped from his nostrils. However, he lost in the end, but you ran while the fight was going on. You jumped into a random mirror and it just so happened to be yours.

And that’s kind of where you are now. You would have to personally murder those students later, but right now you have to deal with a yandere and angry Sebek.

“Darling, why are you cowering before me? I would never hurt you. I’m supposed to be your knight in shining armor…” He kneeled before, taking your wrists into his hands and making you reveal your face to him.

You were praying to whatever being resided in the heavens that Lilia had a club meeting and could hear what was going on in your room. You peered into the half-fae’s eyes, and his lips were closing in on yours.

“Remember that you will always belong to me, and only me, Y/N,” You tried to push him away, but he kissed you with the force of a cannon ball, even as you wiggled and squirmed beneath him.

Once he pulled away, his eyes were glowing a bright green, and he had a smirk on his face.

“Why are you doing this?!” You screamed at him.

“Because you somehow managed to make me fall in love with you: a human who won’t live for very long. I need to be there for every moment… to savor it until I join you in the stars. Then, I’ll still be obsessed with you because you are a mystery to me.”

Usually, something like this would make your heart flutter and you flustered, but right now it just filled you with a sense of dread. You had the entire confession planned out, and it would have been simple and normal, and he probably would have shouted his feelings for you.

But now, with him whispering, it felt wrong.

Really wrong.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek x reader #sebek #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst

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xeeroo08 · 1 year

Text

Astro Observations 《1》

Disclaimer : I am not a professional astrologer. This post is only for fun and it is solely based on my observations and experiences. So, please take it with a grain of salt.

♠️ Taurus Mars 🤝 Anger issues. It's either a disaster or unhealthy suppression. No in between.

♠️ Mars-Neptune placements have some wide imagination when it comes to steamy stuff. It be going on in their heads 24/7! Also they might get frequent wet dreams. Infact on a side note they are quite looking forward to it when they go to sleep.

♣️ Mars in 4th house went through a lot of family trauma in childhood. It could be anything like daily arguments, abusive household, domestic violence etc.

♠️ Sagittarius venus and their frequent crushes. If influenced by Scorpio could be secretive as hell.

♠️ Jupiter–Saturn negatively aspected could indicate a hard academic life in the beginning but once you work on it, you will succeed with flying colors. My friend has her jupiter squaring saturn and she was always at the bottom in her class. But once she decided to put her mind into it, she became one of the toppers in our school.

♣️ Venus at 0° has no idea where to began with love. They want it but are clueless about what they actually want.

♠️ Sagittarius people love freedom. Speaking from personal experience, you don't want to tie them down by any means. Like Sagittarius moon hates being emotionally tied down by some melodrama. Don't even think about manipulating them they will run away know right away. Sagittarius venus hates being controlled in a relationship.

♣️ Virgo sun might tease their partner now and then after their night together just to see their reaction. You better blush🔪

♣️ Someone mentioned in their post that having jupiter in 2nd house in solar return chart could indicate buying a lot of books. It's true! I had it last year in my chart and omg I bought so many books in one year! Also I never faced any shortage of money that year so later when I calculated the expense, I was surprised. It's also funny because whenever I felt like, okay I want this book, in the next few days I would have it in my hands by some means. I was obsessed with books. Let it be study material or novels. I still have many novels that I bought last year but haven't read yet. Lol no regrets tho, I love books 📚

♠️ Moon conjuct pluto 🤝 love-hate relationship with their mothers. It's like— I can't live without you. The next moment—but if I die it will be only because of you. And it goes both the ways. I have this and trust me it hurts on a subconscious level.

♣️ Asteroid Actor conjuct moon could mean that when you act, you act flawlessly. No one could tell if you are acting or not. Emotions are always on point. It comes very natural to these people. If underdeveloped, could make sly manipulators, like a wolf under sheep's skin.

♠️ Scorpio MC people always have a strict control over their public image. They are not said to be mysterious just like that. You might think you have them figured out but there is always something going on in their lives which is unknown to the public. And if they don't want you to know about it, you will never know either.

♣️ Pluto in 11th house/Sagittarius/Aquarius could mean that you might have a wide variety of friends all over the world, through online or even through mutuals. But for some of you these people just come along and go. Or maybe you are the one who gets distant for some reason. They still remain good friends though, it's just that the sudden closure is gone. Plus they don't reveal every single secret to their friends. They know later it won't matter.

♣️ Venus conjuct/ Sextile/trine Mercury gives a very pleasant voice. These people should try applying in music industry.

♠️ Asteroid Skip in natal chart could indicate what all things you missed or neglected in your life. For example, in 6th house you could have neglected your health a lot to the point later it backfired. Or in Capricorn it could indicate that you skipped working.

♣️ Jupiter–AC people are very sharp minded. Especially if it's conjuction. They know how to turn the situation in their favour. They are also very versatile in nature, which makes them very well liked by people. Basically the All rounder placement.

♠️ Asteroid Scientia positively aspecting Jupiter/Sun/moon could mean you work good in science fields. Whereas if it's negatively aspected you might face a little difficulty in dealing with science majors and need more effors to put in. I have jupiter square scientia and I know exactly what I am talking about.

♣️ Asteroid Academia in 11th house/Aquarius could indicate changing many schools, colleges throughout your life or living in a hostel.

♠️ Aries risings are the most restless beings alive. They can't sit still for two minutes to save their lives! These people are very competitive when it comes to athletics, as for academics, they are okay with being average. Two of the people that I know who have this rising sign won gold medals during their school lives in sports competitions.

♣️ Mars conjuct MC or Mars in 10th house people are very dedicated and driven when it comes to their profession. They pursue their career with full potential.

#astrology #asteroid scientia #jupiter squar saturn #astro observations #zodiac signs #moon-pluto #moon conjuct pluto #aries rising #scorpio mc #asteroid skip #asteroid academia #Mars-Neptune #sagittarius venus #taurus mars #solar return #Asteroid actor

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weirdfangirly · 17 days

Text

Little Red Light—+18

Dark Fiction

dark!Joel x reader // dark!Tommy x reader

Warnings: dub-con/non-con, sex work, sexual exploitation (reader is being filmed against her will), dark Joel & Tommy, drug abuse (cocaine), drinking, name-calling, spanking, humiliation & degradation of reader, description of injuries & blood, cum-shot, face-fucking, blowjob, kissing feet, face-slapping, dark themes…

Summery: In a rundown motel, reader finds herself in an nightmarish encounter with Joel and Tommy. Trapped in a cycle of abuse and degradation, she struggles to escape the grim reality of her life as a prostitute, haunted by the consequences of her choices

A/n: please like, share and leave a comment! It honestly is my only motivation to keep writing. This is dark, very long and very depressing. Much fun xoxo

In the eerie silence of the night, you stood hesitantly before room 23 of a shady motel, its flickering red neon sign offering you a pale glimmer of confidence in the desolate landscape.

Wearing a coat that failed to shield you from the biting cold, your wrestled with a mix of anticipation and worry.

Tonight marked the beginning of yet another miserable dance with your fate as you mentally prepared yourself to meet your first client of the night.

You hesitated for a moment before mustering the courage to knock on the door.

*knock*

“Let’s get this over with.”, you thought.

Moments later, the door cracked open, revealing a man who’s weathered face painted with lines of hardships.

The man’s rugged features softened slightly as his stern eyes landed on you, his gaze betraying a flicker of empathy.

Your soft features were the prettiest sight he’d seen all week. A pretty little thing.

“Come in.”, the man’s voice, gravelly yet strangely comforting, broke the silence of the night.

He went by the name of Joel Miller.

With a cautious nod, you stepped inside. Your footsteps echoing softly against the floorboards.

The door closed behind you with a soft *click.*

As soon as you stepped in, a wave of musty air assaulted your senses, carrying the unmistakable scent of neglect and decay of the room.

“It smells like an old ladies house.”, you thought.

Your gaze swept across the room, taking in the sight of dilapidated furniture that sagged under the weight of years of use and abuse—a sight that reminded you of yourself. Once a joyful child with a promising future, now your inner lights dimmed by the harsh realities of life.

The bed was adorned with stained sheets that bore the telltale marks of countless forgotten encounters—Before long, you would add your own imprint to the fabric.

This thought left you deeply depressed.

It was only now that the shadows of the room revealed another man seated in the corner of the room…

His presence imposing, he sat with quiet confidence. Clad in white wife-beaters & faded jeans his thick black curly hair framed a rugged face. His mustache highlighted his stern expression, adding to the mystery of his presence.

His gaze—dark and inscrutable—met yours.

Irritation swept across your face, you turned back to Joel “I don’t do threesomes, sir.”, you said firmly, but your voice betrayed a hint of worry.

Joel’s expression hardened.

You couldn’t help but noticed the stark contrast between your ages…The lines etched into Joel’s face telling a story of a life lived long and hard. In contrast your own features still bearing the softness of youth. It was your eyes though that exposed how brittle and weak you really were.

“I’ll pay you extra.”, he said.

The offer hung heavy in the air.

Joel reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. He held out the money to you.

Temptation aroused deep within you. It was more money than Dean—your boyfriend—expected you to bring back home tonight…

With trembling hands, you reached out to the money. The crisp bills feeling foreign and heavy in your grip.

As Joel’s gaze bore into yours, you felt a pang of guilt nagging on your conscience. You could feel that accepting this money came with an unknown risk.

You didn’t know those men. They could be bad.

There was a hint of danger lurking behind the shadows of this transaction—But in this moment, the promise of financial security outweighed the nagging voice of doubt that whispered in the back of your mind.

You nodded, accepting his offer. You put the money inside your handbag.

It was sealed.

Joel’s features softened. He triumphantly looked over to the other man in the room—his younger brother, Tommy.

Their silent conversation went unnoticed by you.

“Can I use the restroom, please?”, you asked, voice quivering slightly despite your attempt to sound composed. The weight of uncertainty pressing down on you.

You’d never done anything with two man before...

With a nod, Joel gestured towards the bathroom door.

You made your way to the small, cramped bathroom. In an attempt to shake off the unease you splashed some water on your face and took a deep breath to steady your nerves.

“Get it over with.”, you told yoursel.

You peeled off your coat, revealing the slutty attire your wore beneath. It was by no means modest and clung to your curves like a second skin.

Dean made you wear it, saying that men liked to see a pretty girl in a dress too small for her.

Despite the dim lights, you felt exposed and vulnerable. With trembling hands you smooth down the fabric of the dress, your fingers tracing the patterns of the dress as if seeking reassurance in their familiarity.

Taking a deep breath, you told yourself that you got this, that you would face whatever was awaiting you with courage. You’d squared your shoulders and walked out of the room.

As you emerged from the bathroom, the dim light of the room cast a subtle glow over you figure, highlighting the obvious differences between the men and you.

Joel and Tommy who’s gaze locked onto you. Their gaze lingering hungrily as their minds raced with illicit thoughts…

They didn’t saw you as a person, but as an object for their lust and greed. It was about power and control to them, about profit, and you’d just accepted their offer; cash in exchange for your bod.

Tonight you belonged to them.

Unaware of their true intentions, you offered them a shy little smile. Despite how nervous you were, you refused to let fear consume you.

But it all came crashing down on you when your eyes landed on the camcorder attached atop a tripod. Its lens pointed directly at the bed...

Panic shot through you veins as the realisation set in: they intended to film you!

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Why is there a camcorder?”, you asked after summoning the courage to confront them about it.

Jowls response was a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette. The ember glowing brightly in the dimly lit room as smoke danced lazily around him. With a nonchalant exhale, he met your gaze. His expression unreadable as he considered his response.

“It’s just for fun.”, he finally replied, his tone casual yet laced with a hint of something darker beneath the surface.

“I-I don’t like the idea of being recorded.”, you stated your discomfort firmly.

“You already accepted our money, baby-face.”, Tommy smiled, his deep voice cutting through the air like a knife. “There is no backing out of this.”

It was only now that you recognised the undeniable resemblance between Tommy and Joel. The only difference between them was that Tommys eyes held a glimmer of youthful vitality, untouched by the weight of the world that seemed to burden Joel’s.

They were brothers, you realised.

For some reason their familial ties only scared you more…

Tommys words had landed a heavy blow on you. You realised that you were trapped Your fate sealed by the very desperation that had driven you into the men’s clutches.

“Calm down,”, Joel’s voice cuts through the tense air, his voice smooth and reassuring. “We’ll only record for private use.”

Despite the foul feeling in your gut, you forced yourself to believe him. You cling to the fragil hope that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to his words.

“O-okay.”, you nodded.

Tommy reached inside his pocket and fished out a little bag of cocaine. He started to line up the powder onto the wooden table.

“Ya want some?”, he asked you.

His offer hung heavy in the air, loaded with the promise of escape and oblivion, but you knew too well the dangers that lurked beneath its enticing facade of the powder.

It brought back memories of Dean, who’s addiction to cocaine would only fuel his violent outbursts, oftentimes directed at you.

You hoped that Tommy would react differently to the drug.

“No thank you, mister.”, you shook your head. Despite the allure of temporary relief, you couldn’t afford to lose yourself in the haze of drugs.

Tommy shrugged, leaned forward and consumed the powder through his nose—an immediate and noticeable shift overtook his demeanour. The drug infusing him with newfound energy.

You watched with growing unease.

“Is the camera rolling?”, he asked Joel with anticipation.

You knew, once the camera was rolling there was no turning back…

Joel took a swig from the whiskey bottle.

With a steady gaze Joel addressed you, his voice laced with authority as he outlined the rules for the night:

“All you gotta do,” he begun, “is to do what we say. No questions, no objections. Understand?”

His short speech echoed in the silence, each word a chilling reminder of the power dynamics at play.

“Yes, sir.”, you replied, your words a whispered admission of defeat in the face of his overwhelming dominance.

He reminded you of your father.

Joel nodded approvingly at your submission. Joel reached for the camcorder, pressing the record button with a sense of finality.

The red light blinked to life.

Tommy made his way over to the bed. His imposing figure filing the room with an aura of dominance. He sat down right in front of the camcorder, the bed creaked.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of attraction towards him...

His strong physic and confident demeanour stirred something within you, despite the tension and fear that hung heavy in the air.

His gaze locked onto yours. “Come here, sweetheart.”, he gestured towards himself.

You obeyed Tommys command. You approached him slowly.

When you were close enough, he reached out for your hand. His touch sent a jolt of electricity skittering across your skin.

With a gentle yet firm guidance, he positioned you between his open legs—right in in front of the lens. As you stood there, trapped between his powerful frame you felt small and caged.

“Undress yourself.”, he said and gave your ass a playful but firm smack, sending yet another jolt of electricity through your body.

With trembling hands, you begun to undress yourself.

With Joel lingering behind the camcorder, his eyes fixed on the unfolding scene, you felt a sense of vulnerability wash all over you. You were painfully aware of the fact that you were being watched, every move captured by the unblinking lens of the recording devise.

You peeled away the layers of fabric that were shielding you from their hungry gaze.

As you stood there in front of them, clad in only your skin, Tommys hands started to roam all over your body. You felt a shiver of anticipation race down your spine.

But when his touch grew more insistent—turning from playful to possessive—you felt discomfort creeping in.

His hands wandered down between you legs, rubbing along your soft cunt, making Tommys eyes nearly roll back from anticipation. You closed your eyes and relaxed into his touch.

When Tommy felt your wetness, he smiled mischievously.

“What a good little whore you are.”, Tommy said and smacked your ass again, this time much harder.

You hissed in pain.

The harshness of his smack, coupled with the demeaning label he had assigned to you, you felt your heart grew heavy. The word “whore” echoing through your mind.

Joel seemed to notice your distress.

“I think you hurt her feelings, brother.”, Joel said, a cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, a perverse satisfaction blossoming within him at the sight of your distress.

Tommys laughter filled the room.

“Aw, is that true?” his tone mocking, “You don’t like being called a whore?”

You stayed silent, looking down, mentally scolding yourself for getting emotional in front of them.

He kept groping your ass and tits. His colossal hands all over you, burning your tender flesh.

“You liked it better when I called you sweetheart?” Tommy asked, “wanna be our little sweetheart? Get treated like a good girl, a little princess?”

You let him know with a timid little nod.

Tommy made you sit on top of his thigh. You felt out of place being so close to him now. The rough material of his jeans dug into your soft skin, creating some sparkling friction.

“Good girls don’t whore themselves out though...”, he whispered, nose buried deep in the pit between your neck and shoulder, revelling in your feminine scent.

You smelled like vanilla to him.

You felt a wave of humiliation wash over you, the sting of his words cutting deep. You winced slightly as his hands pinched the flesh of your ass. You remained frozen in place.

“If you want to be treated good, then you have to beg for forgiveness.”, Tommy explained to you.

And then—without warning—Tommy tossed you away.

Pain shoot through you as you landed on the unforgiving ground next to his feet. Naked and vulnerable. You felt abandoned, like a discarded toy in the hands of a cruel child.

“Will you do that, little whore?”, Tommy asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Y-yes, sir.”, you nodded, yearning for any semblance of kindness. In your abandoned state, you failed to recognise the cruelty lurking behind his words.

“Take my shoes of and kiss my feet then, cunt.”

With trembling hands, you knelt before him, your fingers trembling as you struggled to remove his boots.

With a heavy heart and tears stinging your eyes, you pressed your plump lips to his feet. Your stomach churning with disgust at the act of submission.

“Please forgive me.” your voice barley above a whisper as you begged for absolution for the sins you were forced to commit

“Forgive what, cunt?”

“Please forgive me for being a..whore.”

As Joel watched the scene unfold in front of him, a sense of arousal stirred within him. His body responding to the display of power and control exhibited by his brother. The way you submitted to his brothers every whim, your vulnerability laid bare before them. It was thrilling.

“I’m not convinced—not at all.”, Tommy said after making a clicking sound with his tongue and shaking his head dismissively. “I’m not convinced that you’re actually sorry.”

Tommy rose to his full height, towering over you like a building, casting a shadow over you.

Tommy grabbed you by your upper arm, his grip tight. He guided you to lay down onto the bed, legs hanging off the edge. Your bare back was exposed to not only the men, but also the lens of the camcorder.

The uncertainty of what would unfold next hung heavy in your mind.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Tommy reached down and unfastened his leather belt. You heard the metallic clink of his belt echoing in the dimly lit room. Tears begun to flow from your eyes, as the dread of what Tommy would to do next sank in…

“No, no please!”, you cried out.

He was about to punish you, with his belt…

The humiliation of begging for forgiveness and kissing his feet was unbearable enough, but the thought of enduring further punishment filled you with a primal fear.

“Please I am sorry, don’t do that!”, your pleas landed on deaf ears.

“It’s for your own good.”, Tommy said and clenched his fists around the belt. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Truth was, Tommy couldn’t care less about how you felt. He was driven solely by his own twisted desires.

You shook your head in silent protest, tears streaming down your face. You knew that there was no escape. So you brace yourself—mentally and physically—for the inevitable impact that was about to come.

Tommy raised the belt high above his head before landing the first blow upon your bare ass, sending a wave of pain through your body.

“Ah!”, you cried out.

The next strike came quick after.

And again,

and again.

Each punishing blow, the sting of unforgiving leather against your skin served as a harsh reminder of the sins you were forced to commit.

Each punishing blow, a catapult that hurled you right back to your childhood… The punishments you would receive from your father were of equally painful nature…

Each punishing blow, letting you fall further down a pit of shame and humiliation.

As the hard blows from Tommy's belt continued, your delicate skin began to show signs of distress.

Red welts formed across your flesh, the skin splitting under the force of each strike, revealing raw patches that oozed a little blood.

With each blow, the pain intensified, the sting of the leather against your already irritated skin sending shockwaves of agony through your trembling frame.

Tommys dick got rock hard by your cries and begging.

The metallic tang of blood mixed with the scent of sweat and fear in the air, a visceral reminder of the brutality of Tommy's assault.

For Tommy, it smelled like heaven.

Despite the overwhelming pain, you gritted your teeth and endured, your spirit battered but unbroken. You reminded yourself that you’d endured worse. In the darkness of the room, you clung to the fragile hope of survival, knowing that this night was not different than any other; the sun would soon rise.

At this point you’d stopped screaming, entirely. Only finding the strength to cry bitterly into the stained bedsheets.

Despite the twisted satisfaction Joel got from Tommys cruel treatment, he couldn't ignore the sight of your battered and bloodied form.

Joel knew that he had to intervene.

He raised his voice just above the chaos, commanding Tommy to stop:

“Alright, that’s ‘nough, Tommy.” his voice cut through the air like a knife, his tone firm and authoritative.

Tommy hesitated, his grip on the belt loosening as he regarded his brother with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

Relief flooded through you as Joel put an end to Tommy's assault.

As Joel extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray with a flick of his wrist, he glanced at Tommy, making him understand that it was now his turn to take control of the situation.

With a predatory hunger still burning in his eyes, Tommy settled into his seat behind the camera.

Meanwhile, Joel approached the trembling, tear-streaked you.

“Can you stand up?”, curiosity lingering in his voice.

With a heavy heart you pushed yourself up on your hands and knees, sobbing quietly. Your body trembling with pain. You pushed yourself off the bed and stood on shaking legs in front of Joel Miller.

You looked a mess. Tear-streaked cheeks and a face contorted with pain.

“Thank you, sir.”, you sobbed.

Your eyes flickered over at Tommy who was sitting in the corner of the room, not letting you out of his sight. Chest rising and falling from the adrenaline and cocaine pumping through his veins.

As you trembled in the aftermath of his brutality, you couldn't help but view Tommy as a menacing figure whose mere presence filled you with a sense of dread.

To shield yourself from the menacing gaze of Tommy, you instinctively sought refuge behind the protective frame of Joel.

It was clear to Joel that Tommy's cruelty had left its mark on you psyche and that you now—in your hopeless delusion—sought protection from him.

But by him simply placing his large hand on your fragil shoulder—its weight upon you like a heavy stone, making you slowly sink down to your knees under its force—Joel made his position of power crystal clear to you.

It came crushing down on you: He wasn’t your ally, nor your saviour.

He may had stopped Tommy from assaulting you, however he’d also watched it happening in amusement. The only reason why he’d stopped his brother was because he feared Tommy would break you too quickly…

From you kneeling position, you gazed up at Joel. Your eyes filled with a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, Joel would treat you with more kindness and compassion than Tommy had…

Joel began to unbuckle his pants—without taking his eyes off of your pretty fear-streaked face—his movements deliberate and unhurried.

He revealed his hardened cock, it was thick and veiny and looked as powerful as his presence felt to you.

You were inches away from his manhood, the scent of his arousal filling your senses. You knew what he wanted from you next.

“Open up, girl.”, he said, a simple command.

You opened your mouth and leaned forward. Joel placed his hand on your head, before guiding his cock between your plump lips. It fit only partly. You began to move your tongue, letting it swirl around him.

As the scene unfolded before him, Tommy rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on you as you serviced Joel. With trained hands, he took the camcorder off the tripod. Now taking the role as his cameraman, Tommy moved closer to you and Joel to capture a more intimate view of what was going on.

It didn’t went unnoticed by you that Tommy was filming you from up-close now, determined to capture every little explicit detail.

You felt a surge of unease wash over you, now that Tommy was so close. The pain radiating from your ass a painful reminder of how Tommy was capable of. You grew nervous.

So you made the mistake of stopping and taking Joels cock out of your mouth to voice your discomfort.

You opened your mouth to speak, but with a sudden and forceful motion, Joel's hand connected with your cheek.

*smack*

The sharp crack of the impact echoing through the room.

As you recoiled from the strike, you felt fear and humiliation wash over you. Your spirit crushed once again by the weight of his punishment.

With tear-filled eyes, you bowed her head and cried.

“Who told you to stop?”, Joel asked, sounding annoyed with you.

You just shook your head, sobbing quietly.

“Open your mouth and don’t try that again…”

You quickly let him back inside your mouth and continued massaging his member with your tongue.

“They always get so eager after a good beating…”, Tommy smiled.

Joel felt the need to spice things up. So he grasped you by your hair—firmly—and took control over the situation by setting the rhythm and pace. Fucking your mouth, asserting his dominance in every motion. With each subtle shift of his hips and every whispered instruction, Joel made you feel smaller and smaller, whilst he grew bigger and bigger. You were completely at his mercy. Glued to his crotch.

You let him fuck your mouth, gagging and coughing under his grip.

“Good job, keep going.”, Joel hissed.

You opened tour eyes and looked up at him, your vision blurred from your tears. You liked hearing him praise you. It made you feel better. You tried your best not to puke around his cock—or pass out.

Your throat was burning and saliva was flowing out of the corners of your mouth like a waterfall. You were spasm hard, trying to keep your lunch down.

Joel was so deep inside your mouth, that Tommy—and the lens of the camcorder—could see the outline of Joel’s cock in your throat.

With merciless intensity, Joel thrust into your throat, his movements rough and unrestrained.

You started to throw your fists against his muscular thighs, hoping he would back up and let go of your head.

Each forceful thrust pushed your limits.

You couldn't help but wonder how much more you could endure before reaching your breaking point.

Right when your vision had started to get black, Joel released you from his merciless grip.

You collapsed to the ground in a heap, your body trembling with exhaustion and desperation for air. Gasping for air like a desperate goldfish out of water, you lay there, utterly spent and broken by the brutal encounter.

Next you felt was Joel fisting your hair and yanking yout face up. He came all over your face. Painting your face shiny white with bis cum.

“Fuck!”, he hissed, his appearance resembled a wild animal rather than a human.

When he was done, he let you go again.

Your throat burned with the aftermath of Joel's rough treatment. Every muscle in your body ached with fatigue, your mind reeling from the overwhelming sensations of pain and humiliation. Your face covered with sticky hot cum.

You felt utterly defeated. Once again you wondered how much you could endure tonight before reaching your breaking point.

“Good job, cunt.”, Joel halfheartedly said, still out of breath and in an undeniably good mood.

“Thank you, dad.”, you whispered in your out-of-your-mind state. A flicker of longing and desperation evident in your voice. You were close to falling unconscious.

“Aw, she thinks you are her fucking father.”, tommy laughed.

Joel remained outwardly composed, but felt a hint of satisfaction at your acknowledgment of his authority.

Tommy pressed the camcorder in Joel’s hand, “Alright I have enough of this.”, Tommys word were accompanied by lifting you up effortlessly and placing you on the bed

Panic floated your senses.

"Can I…can I have something to drink?", the request a desperate plea wanting to numb your senses so that you could endure whatever would come next.

Joel handed you the whiskey bottle, and you eagerly drowned the liquid down, hunting the numbness at the bottom of the bottle.

“Jesus Christ, that’s enough”, tommy said, reaching out to retrieve the bottle from your grasp.

You let yourself fall back on the hard mattress.

Tommy lowered himself onto you, his weight pressing down on your trembling form. "Let's find out just how much you're really worth," he murmured, his sinister words directed more to himself than at you.

He gripped his already hard member in his hand, slicking it with his saliva in preparation.

You didn’t count Tommy for someone who would take his time in preparing you for penetration, so additional help was welcomed.

You reached down and rubbed your clit, in hopes to generate some wetness…

But the only thing that was acting up was your flight or fight response.

Tommy's gaze resembled that of a starved dog, hungrily eyeing you as if you were only a piece of meat.

Tommy wasted no more time lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance between your shaking legs.

With a single forceful thrust, Tommy rammed his cock deep inside you.

“Ouh!”, you whimpered, clutching his thick muscular arms for support as a jolt of pain shot through you.

Tommy wasted no time, swiftly finding a rhythm that satisfied his desires, plunging in and out of you with relentless favour.

“Ah stop!”, you cried.

Instinctively, you resisted his brutal thrusts, attempting to push him away and free yourself from his assault.

Your attempt was met with yet another harsh slap across your face, reminding you painfully of your powerlessness against Tommy.

“Keep crying, little whore, come on.”, Tommy hissed.

You shook your head and looked away, but Tommy grasped your chin firmly, making sure you couldn't look away from him, his gaze commanding your full attention.

Your body trembled under Tommy with each forceful thrust.

It could’ve been the alcohol, but eventually, your body adapted to his thrusts, the sensation becoming dull.

“Fuck, for a rundown prostitute you are tight as fuck”, Tommy pressed out in between his thrusts.

Tommys degrading words seemed to be so far away, you almost couldn’t hear them.

Your gaze drifted over to Joel, who sat in Tommy's chair, his expression a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

As your eyes met, a wave of shame washed over you, his watchful gaze reminded you of how your father used to look at you: disappointed and full of judgment.

It felt as if Joel could see right through you, condemning you for the wrong decisions you had made, like running away with your boyfriend, Dean.

In that moment, you realized your father had been right all along, but it was too late to turn back. You had irreversibly altered the course of your life, and men like Tommy were the consequence of your choices.

Another blow struck your cheeks, catching you off guard. “Don’t look at him, he won’t safe you this time.”

After what felt like an eternity, you sensed that Tommy was nearing his climax.

It was only then that you realised that he hadn’t bothered with a condom—another boundary crossed in the course of this night.

“Please don’t cum in me.”, you sounded hopeless.

Tommy drew out of you, grabbed your hair and yanked your head off the edge of the bed. He then violently started to empty his balls on your face, mixing his cum with your tears and his brothers cum.

When he was done, he let go of your hair. Your skull arched. Your ass hurt. And your throat and vagina feeling rough and scratchy.

“Don’t worry, cunt”, Tommy begun “last thing I want is having another whore being the mother of my child.”

It was only then you noticed that he wore a ring on his finger. He was married.

Tommy allowed himself to collapse onto the bed, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You rolled out of the bed and dragged yourself into the bathroom, tears and cum streaming down your face.

You cleaned your face with water, your hands shaking. You put your dress on. All you wanted to get out of here. You had your money, but you lost the little bit of dignity you had left.

“Dean will be proud.”, you thought. You just wanted to go back to him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, your feet carried you straight to the front door, driven by the urgent need to flee.

However, Joel's words stopped you in your tracks. "Tell Dean, Joel said hello.”

With a silent nod, you turned and walked back out into the eerie night, the weight of the encounter hanging heavy on your shoulders…

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