#Past Rape/Non-con | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusbyline · 13 days ago

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Lying between them (2/2)

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— summary: It was no news to the brothers how many times they woke up from wet dreams, their white linen pants stained with the consequences of their desires. And yet... Neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys ever imagined that they would really be in that situation, with you actually considering starting to take off the nightgown, fingers playing with its ties as the seconds passed.

— pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!reader x Lucerys Velaryon

— type: smut, dark

— word count: 8.4k

— tags/warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, female!reader, dark!Jacaerys, dark!Lucerys, Targcest (older brother/younger sister & twin brother/twin sister), threesome FMM (female/male/male), dubcon, loss of virginity, rough vaginal sex, virginity kink, underage sex (no specific mention of reader, Jacaerys or Lucerys' ages tho), past non-con somnophilia, dry humping, threats of rape, missionary position, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), squirting, overstimulation, handjob (male receiving/male giving), nipple playing, gaslighting, dacryphilia, creampie, degradation, light subspace, aftercare, sadism, minor Jacaerys Velaryon/Lucerys Velaryon BUT NOT SO MUCH, minor older brother/younger brother incest BUT NOT SO MUCH, fluffy ending, dom!Jacaerys, sub!reader, switch!Lucerys, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons). no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes¹: I'M FINALLY POSTING THAT 2ND PART 🔥🔥 I was sooo busy with my final exams, but I think I'll have a little more free time now (even though my college semester only ends at the beginning of July). Tysm to those who asked for a sequel, because I wasn't planning on actually writing it before, but I loved it. Btw, yeah I officially turned it into a twoshot with a title, and I'mma post a masterlist later. ♥️♥️

— author's notes²: This is just my second work about dark!Lucerys (I wrote a scenario based of my horny thoughts stuffs a few months ago). I love write for dark!Jacaerys, but until now I never had really focused on a darker version of Luke. But I was sooo good, I'll probably write more about that, cuz I really like OOC and dark versions of HOTD characters.

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Kostilus (please).

— crossposting: AO3

❥ Jacaerys masterlist • Lucerys masterlist • HOTD masterlist

❥ Lying Between Them masterlist

❥ about me • main masterlist

"You were taking advantage of me!"

Lucerys flinched as your angry scream reverberated through the suddenly silent chambers — neither of the two brothers had the courage to say anything during those previous minutes, both of them with the colors draining from their faces, both of them worried about what would happen next.

The younger boy's mind was a mess, not knowing what to say or do. The realization of how serious that situation was only hit him when you tried to sit up on the bed, preparing to get out of it — letting out a weak little cry when Jacaerys needed to grab your waist and stop you from moving away.

"It is not exactly that." Your older brother started to explain, but you pushed his hand away, making him mumble something and grab you again, his grip kind of tighter this time. "Hey, hey now. You are overreacting."

Lucerys narrowed his eyes at his brother's indifferent words. Even if he had agreed to participate in that problematic act, at least he knew what they were doing was wrong, and he would never blame you for being scared and wanting to stay physically distant at that moment.

"Jace..." Your twin brother began to say when Jacaerys turned you into the previous position, pressing his own bulge against your ass.

The older prince glared at Lucerys, not wanting the boy to intervene in the plan — even more so when Lucerys had already participated with him so willingly. "Do not interrupt me."

You were incredulous at the rude way Jacaerys was talking to him, and that incredulity increased when you felt Jacaerys grinding against your bare ass. Even with his underwear right there, it was impossible not to feel it with every movement... how hard it was.

Sexual experiences had never been something that happened to you, at least not consensually. Any touching that was more daring had only been caused by your own fingers a few times — although you tried to feel pleasure during a random morning, using one of your brothers' pillows because they left your chambers and one of them forgot to take it back to their own bed.

Yet, you did not expected them to have such audacity to do something like that, so unexpectedly.

"You took off your nightgown of your own free will. You consented to it."

Well... Perhaps not so unexpectedly.

"W-What? I... I did not imagine you would abuse me." Not even you seemed to believe the defense you said against Jacaerys' words.

Unlike his brother, who kept his sly smile after the sentences he heard, Lucerys' guilt grew. He could hear the uncertainty in his twin sister's voice, as if your were going over all the last events.

He knew what Jacaerys was doing, wanting to mess with your mind to put the whole blame on you. So that you would start to feel responsible for what had happened. As if you had really made it seem like it was all consensual.

Lucerys moved an arm forward, lowering it when he saw his twin sister flinching away from his touch and being accidentally pressed against Jace. "F-Fuck... That is it." The firstborn groaned close to your ear, his heavy breathing giving you involuntary goosebumps.

One of Jacaerys' hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh there hard and ignoring the whimper of pain he received in return. You felt so warm against him, so fucking gorgeous... Perky nipples begging to be touched.

Before you could even say anything to deny it, Jacaerys had already run the other palm over your breasts, alternating between grabbing each one of them as he increased the way he rolled his hips.

"This is what you always wanted. Is not it, little sister? Your two brothers taking you, taking your maidenhead like you were just our personal whore..." Those crude words were painful to hear, vanishing any defense you could claim.

You were the one who had taken off the nightgown, you were the one who had allowed your brothers to see you like that, to stay there on the bed...

You had allowed Jacaerys and Lucerys to touch you. Allowed them to do whatever they wanted.

"That is not true..." Whimpering, the resistance starting to wane and the shame aching inside your heart. Lucerys noticed how you seemed to writhe against Jace's grip, how your eyes filled with unshed tears. Tears that showed how those words were really having an effect.

Jacaerys brought his palm to your breasts to pinch one of your nipples. "Oh, both of us know it is true. Did you think I would never find out about the morning you rubbed yourself on my pillow like a bitch in heat?"

Both your and your twin brother's eyes widened — your shock was due to the fact that Jacaerys had found out about that some time ago and had never told you until now. Lucerys' shock was because he was in disbelief at what Jacaerys just confessed, a wave of jealousy burning in his veins, not understanding why the hells you would do something so perverted on the other brother's pillow instead of his.

"Why did you do that on his pillow?"

Lucerys' irritation caught you off guard, your face paling with sudden fear when you saw his expression. An expression never seen before, showing the mix of feelings inside him.

"I did not know it was his!"

Nothing changed about Lucerys' look, the anger simply intensified. How dare you grind on Jace's pillow? Even if you did not even know it was your older brother's... It should have been his. He should have been the one to smell your cunt on the fabric during the night. He should have been the one to jerk off thinking about how you had cum there...

Lucerys' gaze at his older brother was enough for Jacaerys to realize his jealousy and that there would be no more moral resistance to whatever happened from then on.

"Let us make a fair deal, little sister..." Jacaerys began to speak, his voice husky and mocking, one hand going down and down... Until it found what he wanted most. "You let us fuck that pretty cunt, and in return we will nof say anything to Mother about how you have been letting us sleep in your bed for months..."

To your disbelief, Lucerys added, "Or about how you stood naked between us, rubbing yourself and begging for dirty things."

That was the cruelest sentence Lucerys had ever said in all his years of existence. As his twin sister, it never crossed your mind that Lucerys would not only agree with that type of situation, but also actively participate in it and make threats.

Gods, he was your twin brother. Jace doing all that was absurd in itself... And now Luke? This was a nightmare.

"Wow, it seems my little brother is finally getting more into this."

With a frown of disgust, you tried to pull away from Jacaerys' touch once more and his grip tightened, a strangled whimper escaping at the pain of having his fingers digging into your soft breast, nail marks appearing on the skin almost immediately.

Without warning, Jace lifted you by the arm, forcing you to sit on the mattress, his hands firmly around the bone, not caring about the possibility of hurting his own younger sister, not caring about the fear he was causing.

As soon as the three siblings were seated, Lucerys moved a little closer, breathing deeply as he smelled you. He had rubbed his hand on your breast while you slept and had even ground himself a few minutes before — however, it was such a huge satisfaction to know that he was about to finally get what he wanted for years.

The pang of guilt that burned against his will began to increase, and he quickly put it aside when he remembered the jealousy he felt when he found out about the pillow incident — it was something silly. Something silly that left him mad.

"And if I say no, regardless of what you are going to tell Mother?"

Jacaerys and Lucerys narrowed their eyes at your question, noticing the hint of defiance. The two brothers stared at each other, as if they were sharing their thoughts, understanding what they should do next, how to deal with the possibility that their sister was actually considering getting rid of this unfair situation with them.

Jace's hand touched your dark hair, the inevitable goosebumps across your naked body while he tucked a few strands behind your ear.

His smile was so sweet, sweet to the point of being kind of creepy, something that could make anyone feel sick. "I do not think you really want to know, darling."

His soft threat made your stomach churn with despair and agony, a few tears spilling out as the last bit of defiance dissipated. Lucerys knew the statement was not true, just a way to lessen any potential denial. None of them would have the nerve to actually abuse you like they were saying, but you had to believe they would.

This might be their only chance.

To the princes’ relief, there were no more grumbles. The silent nod you gave was enough for them to sigh and start doing what needed to be done. “Good girl.”

You did not respond directly to Lucerys’s sudden praise, or empathize with the fact that his voice sounded shaky. All you did was let Jacaerys gently cup your chin, turning you closer to him. Sharing a brief stare, the eldest prince placed his lips against yours, letting out a low sigh when he felt your tension at the new contact.

His lips were full and smooth, with a slight taste of the lemon cake he had eaten before coming to the chambers. Despite the few kisses you had already exchanged with one or two guards, nothing compared to the one you were sharing with your brother. It was not gentle, his tongue invaded your mouth without permission, a soft moan sounding muffled when he squeezed one of your breasts.

As soon as he released your chin and moved his face away a little, Lucerys' finger touched it, a softer touch. Already knowing what was going to happen, you kept your eyes closed, afraid of what it would be like to kiss your own twin, that kind and sweet boy who had disappeared since that night began.

However, the fear in your heart lightened when Lucerys brought the caress to your cheek. Your eyes opened and filled with tears again, looking at those dilated pupils. "Stop crying..."

His request was no longer spoken with a harsh tone. It sounded almost pleading, trembling... Begging you to stop staring at him in fear, staring at him as if you would never forgive him for this.

Kissing Lucerys was sweet, your stomach churning with a delight you should not feel. You had thought about what it would be like, thought about what it would be like to kiss him if Rhaenyra decided to betroth the two of you. Kissing him was like making you feel complete again.

And he felt that way too, you could tell. His hands continued to caress your cheek, enjoying the taste of your mouth, enjoying how you were starting to get used to it and melt with the kiss they exchanged. He never experienced kissing a girl, he saved his first kiss for you, hoping that an opportunity would come one day. Lucerys never considered wanting anyone else — something Jace had done before, even though you were his muse, the only one he truly loved and yearned to possess. The other ladies were a temporary distraction.

But for Lucerys? You were the only one in the entire world. Born together with him. Made for him. He would rather quit the title of the heir of Corlys Velaryon and then become an Archmaester — just as Vaegon Targaryen, King Jaehaerys’ son and great-uncle of your grandfather Viserys, had become on his fifth name day—. He would rather do anything but marry a woman other than you.

The kiss was broken when Jacaerys tugged at your nipple, smirking when you whined at the sharp pain. “That is enough, little brother.” He scolded Lucerys for lasting too long on a simple kiss, unable to help but feel too jealous.

He sighed frustrated, nodding with a frown. The next few minutes were based on having to be shared between the boys. Every time one of them could have your lips, the other one would move his mouth down your neck, licking and sucking the skin there, leaving love bites that would certainly be impossible to hide in the morning.

Both of them kept on lick your neck and you moaned, feeling each one on one side. Your hands went to each other's hair, stroking them out of reflex.

You should not like that. It was dirty, they were forcing you...

"Fuck, you like that." Jacaerys chuckled amused against the back of your neck, watching you shivering. "I bet your pretty cunt is all wet right now..."

To prove his point, Jacaerys pushed you back down on the mattress, spreading your legs abruptly, a smug smile at the sight of your glistening folds, the arousal wetting the insides of your thighs.

With flushed cheeks, you tried to close the legs, pouting when he stopped you. Jacaerys was burning with so much lust, that sight adding more fuel to the fire.

"Pretty wet." Running his index finger through your folds and bringing it to his mouth. The taste made him roll his eyes in pleasure, swiping it through there once more to bring it to Lucerys.

The younger one let the older one put his finger inside his mouth, licking it with a look of surprise. It was a divine taste, something he never imagined before. A thousand times better than how it was in his dirty dreams.

Jacaerys stared at Lucerys afterwards, not exactly asking if he liked it, since the answer would be obvious to everyone. Instead, Jacaerys smirked. "Do you want me to teach you how to lick a cunt?"

Lucerys' cheeks turned red and he stuttered several times, alternating between "yeah" and "of course". He knew about the existence of oral sex, for sure, he had seen things like it embroidered on random tapestries of the Dragonstone or of the Red Keep. He knew that a woman could put a man's member inside her mouth just as a man could lick a woman's core — Lucerys was also well aware that men could stick their fingers inside cunts and women could massage men's cocks.

His confused stammers amused Jacaerys, who patted his little brother on the back to encourage him. "Come here..."

Extremely excited about what he was about to do, Lucerys knelt closer to your spread legs. The sight was better than anything that had ever crossed his mind, no imagination could compare to what was in front of him. You were soaking wet, the moisture glistening and looking extremely sticky.

"Shit..." He whispered more to himself than to anyone else in the chambers, the bulge becoming more evident through the linen pants he was wearing.

"It is so fucking beautiful, is not it? Pretty and plump..." Jace grinned at his brother, ignoring your presence and talking about that as if you were not even there. "I admit it is the most beautiful cunny I have ever seen." Since your older brother never told you about sexual experiences with girls, you glared angry at him. "Oh, darling... Do not be like that. You know no other woman in the world could compare to you." He teased, playing with your cheek.

When you turned your face away, clearly hurt by his confession about not being a virgin, Jace clenched his jaw. He hated feeling guilty and at the same time he hated that you were denying his touches.

There was not much he could do for now. He had already told Luke that he would teach him how eat a girl out, and he should keep his promise. He wanted his brother to really learn what should be done to please his future wife or sister-in-law.

Wasting no time, your twin lay down between your legs, moaning while he smelled the scent that emanated from there. "I assume you have seen an illustration of cunt in some book." The other prince's words made his cheeks heated. He spent enough time in the library to know about the "flowers" that girls had — not enough time to know how to pleasure them, though.

Wanting to avoid you misunderstanding him and thinking he was already experienced just like Jace, Luke added: "Well... Actually I have only seen it in books." Sighing in relief, one less weight off your shoulders. Your older brother having fucked other girls before you was already disappointing... You would hate it if your own twin had also succumbed to random lust with some lady.

"Right. So this bud—"

"Clit." Lucerys regretted explaining in a more theoretical way when you chuckled and Jace rolled his eyes, quite annoyed. "I just tried to say—"

"I know what you meant. Now focus, brother." The other scolded him, pointing again at the little bud. "This part of her is what will give her the main pleasure. If you want her to make your face all wet and moan like a whore, that is where you need to focus the tongue."

Heart racing, the younger boy lifted his head to look at his brother. Damn, that was much harder than he had thought. "And what do I do with my tongue?"

"Lick it. Not too hard, but not too gentle, so you do not look like a stupid puppy."

Lucerys nodded hesitantly and turned his attention back to you — to your face, more specifically. The way you refused to look back at him broke his heart. The jealousy was still there, for sure; he still thought you had rubbed yourself against Jace's pillow for a purpose. However, seeing you so embarrassed by the act he was about to start worried and saddened him. It did not have to be like this. "Look at me..."

When there was no verbal response or obedience, only your legs trembling with hesitation, Lucerys pleaded before Jace intervened with that typical lack of patience. "Idaña..." The way he called you in High Valyrian caught you and Jace off guard, because he did not do it often. "Kostilus, idaña..."

Feeling your heart tighten a little, you finally gave in and returned the eye contact. Despite your embarrassment about being so open and vulnerable to your brothers, the sight of Lucerys with blushing cheeks and waiting for your consent to start was... intriguing, to say the least. Because it did not need to look for confirmations anymore, you had already agreed to all of that against your will after Jace's threats.

And yet your brother seemed hesitant to do you any harm. He could not bear to live with the possibility of you hating him when it was over.

Your silent nod was all Lucerys needed, letting out a relieved sigh and then lowering his face. The smell of your cunt was intoxicating... During his entire life, he had never felt anything so good. His fingers wandered through your wetness, smiling and watching you take a deep breath and try to close your legs out of reflex.

Jacaerys raised an eyebrow and you mentally counted until ten.

Did you want that? Were you craving more touches? Did you expect him to be rougher? There were so many questions running through your mind.

Questions that were not answered when Lucerys rubbed your clit with his thumb.

"L-Luke..." It was so much better than humping a fucking pillow. He also could tell that by the way your eyes widened, looking down at him.

Jacaerys chuckled, witnessing how you seemed to want to say something, how your mouth parted and your moans got louder as Lucerys rubbed that same spot.

He moved closer to your face, letting Luke caress your clit on his own. The boy seemed to understand that the same movement he would do with his tongue could be done with his finger too. "Is our brother doing a good job, little sister?"

Affirming, you closed the eyelids due to the change in Lucerys' movements, stopping rubbing his thumb up and down and now moving it in circles. "Keep it up, she liked it more now." Jacaerys warned the younger as soon as he noticed how you squirmed and the way you threw your head back.

"She is so fucking wet, brother..."

Jacaerys laughed at the younger Velaryon's words. "I bet she is. I can hear the sounds from here." He scoffed, then cupped your cheeks so he could get a better look at your face. "Beg Luke to give you what you want, little sister."

You shook the head, feeling shy and imagining how humiliating it would be to ask for something like that. Before, you had denied doing this to your brothers over and over again, you had cried and felt angry when they threatened you. So why did not you act so scared anymore? Why did not you feel your heart broken anymore, but instead a desperation to give yourself to them? "I... I cannot. P-Please, brother... Please, do not make me say that."

There was no sincere empathy in any of their faces. In fact, Jacaerys had a dark smile, thinking of all the possible degradations he could say to you. Meanwhile, Lucerys seemed a little frustrated at having to stop what he was doing. He wanted to simply dive himself into your center again, lick it until there was no drop left.

However, instead of cursing you, Jacaerys shrugged and turned to his brother. "Luke, get up."

The confusion was clear on Lucerys' face, raising an eyebrow and lifting his upper body until he was close to Jace. The eldest prince's dark smile widened, looking at his brother's thumb, all glistened with your juices. Without warning, he grabbed Luke's hand, running his tongue over his finger.

Lucerys' eyes darkened as he felt his older brother's mouth begin to suck on his skin, eyelids closed while he savored your taste as if he were eating the most delicious candy of the Seven Kingdoms.

Unable to even hold himself back, Luke whimpered at the sensation of Jacaerys licking his thumb. "O-Oh, shit..." He whined as he let go of his hand. He did not want to admit that his cock had gotten harder from the simple act of his older brother's tongue on him —although the other boy noticed anyway.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the three of you, feeling horny at the scene in front of you. There was something erotic there, it was not difficult to notice. Luke's whimper, Jace's mocking gaze... Gods, your core was definitely wetter than before, probably already dripping onto the sheets.

Turning his attention back to you, Jacaerys was entertained by the tension building in the room. "You taste divine, sister. Luke will love eating you out." Tracing your leg with his fingertips and watching you shiver, he added, "Just ask. Beg him and let him taste a cunny for the first time."

Breathing fast and chest heaving, you bit your lower lip to focus on thinking about the pros and cons of both choices.

On one hand, if you asked so easily for this, you would be going against your hurt for what they were doing. That would be like agreeing to let them continue, being hypocrite and acting according to what they wanted. Like agreeing with their actions.

But on the other hand, you could not wait any longer. You could not deny how much you desired this... How much you needed your twin's tongue to pleasure you. How much you needed your older brother to guide the two of you to an incredible first time.

“Please, Luke…” You begged in a low, soft mewl, full of uncertainty.

“Please what?” There was a teasing tone to his voice, and you flinched. “Tell me, idaña.”

Knowing it would be stupid to keep pretending, you sighed. “Please eat me out.”

Lucerys did not wait a second longer than Jace’s quick nod. He crouched between your thighs again, burying his face there like a starving man. His instincts spoke louder than his lack of experience, understanding your surprised cry with encouragement. Perhaps he was about to do this right…

He groaned against your cunt, sending a tingle through your clit that made you arch your neck back again. Jacaerys watched in silence for a few seconds, and then moved closer, sitting next to you and laying your head on his thigh. The change of the position forced Lucerys to be pulled back a few inches. He whimpered, so frustrated, shifting forward in a good position and wrapping his arms under your thighs, reconnecting his mouth to your center.

His saliva was slightly cold, that soft tongue passing through every part of your folds and licking the juices that ran down his chin. His lack of practical knowledge — and not so much theoretical knowledge too — made him look like a desperate little boy, performing sloppy oral sex that would be a joke if it were done on an experienced woman — fortunately for him, you were not one of them. You were his twin sister. A maiden. Your body would soon belong to him and Jacaerys.

"G-Gods... It feels so good..." Your moans echoed through the chambers, and Jacaerys had to turn his head to look at the door, having to make sure no guards were passing by in the hallway. He would hate to have to stop what the three of you were doing and have to put up with his mother's disappointment and lectures.

He would hate to have to stop such an obscene act; you with your legs spread like a whore, cheeks flushed and nipples perked from the new and intense pleasure; his little brother with that damn pretty, inexperienced mouth, all eager to make his twin feel good, to make his big brother proud.

Luke wanted Jace to see him as a big boy. He wanted to be seen as a real grown-up man, regardless of his young age. It was not hard to see that when he alternated between looking at your face and then looking at Jace, eyes wide and brow furrowed in an expression of happiness too cute for the older man to handle. “Tongue up to her bud.”

The order was well received, and Lucerys finally focused his efforts on your clit. His tongue moved up and down with a pace that felt painfully good. You bit the lip, giving a small, confused giggle at the intense pleasure you felt. Your folds were soaked, obscene wet noises echoing through the room as if it were some private part of a brothel.

With each moan you let out, Jacaerys stroked your dark hair, almost too tender for someone who had been basically threatening to rape you just moments ago. You did not care anymore, though. All you wanted was more and more. More pleasure, more pain... anything the two Velaryon boys could give you.

In all those years, you never imagined that you would enjoy your brothers treating you so much like a goddess to be worshipped and at the same time like a whore to be dominated.

"I could eat your little cunt out all day..."

You breathing quickened, listening to those explicit word said by your twin. The one who was a sweet and innocent person most of the time — until that night —. However, you did not have time to react properly, because Jacaerys reached out an arm and grabbed his brother's hair, pressing him against your core with rough.

A strangled sound came from Lucerys' lips, who stared at his brother with confusion and a slight fright. "Shsh, do not stop licking. She is going to cum in your mouth soon." Jace reassured him and he slowly calmed down, nodding weakly and resuming the sloppy licks.

Eyes rolled back, a completely unfamiliar sensation taking over your body. Fingers or pillows... No masturbation could compare to what you were feeling there, head resting on Jacaerys' leg while you rolled your hips against your twin brother's face, his delicate, small nose brushing your swollen clit accidentally as he moved his head up and down to follow the movements of your hips with his cute, pink tongue sticking out, so beautiful like a confused kitten.

"S-So good, Luke... So f-fucking good." You whined, squirming and turning the gaze at Jacaerys. Your older brother's smile contained a mix of perversion and affection, placing his thumb on your lower lip and encouraging you to lick it as if it were a cock — which you had never done and did not know how to do, so you kept sucking with a way that made him chuckle.

Lucerys was already humping on the bedsheets, his bulge aching inside his linen pants, begging for some real touch. He moved against the sheets as if he were fucking a cunt — even though he had never seen a naked woman before — the white fabric of his nightwear becoming stained with the pre-cum that slowly dripped out in the time that he was enjoying those sweet juices.

"Jace... Please."

There was no need to beg Jacaerys about it, but you did. Wide eyes, full of tears that streamed down your flushed cheeks. Tears showing the need to cum as soon as possible, your high becoming impossible to deny.

Jacaerys' expression darkened, not hesitating another minute before purring, "Cum for us, little sister. Cum for your brothers like the little slut we know you are."

Those dirty words coupled with the feeling of Lucerys' lips closing around your swollen clit and sucking it slowly was everything you needed to fall over the edge, your older brother's palm covering your mouth, realizing you were going to cry out in pleasure.

All you could see was white, your body seemed to be practically convulsing every second. Nothing had ever felt this good, nothing had ever made you feel in the Heavens and in the Hells at the same time.

Your eyes were still closed when Luke started to rub his fingers on your clit after a silent command from Jace. The post-orgasm stimulation hurt, your bud throbbing with each movement of your twin's two fingers rubbing it until more tears ran down the face.

Panic began to consume your mind, feeling something strange in your stomach. You immediately kept your eyes wide open, arching the head back like a silent plea to Jace. That sensation felt familiar, but also it was completely different from anything you had experienced before.

Yet, they ignored your struggle to distance yourself from them. Jace pressed your mouth tighter, whispering words that you could no longer understand. All you could do was cry and writhe, Lucerys' fingers keeping moving...

Keeping moving, without any implied mention of stopping.

Until a clear liquid squirted from your cunt, making your twin's face soaked and in pure shock.

Jacaerys laughed in disbelief, admiring that incredible scene and softening the grip of his hand on your mouth as he noticed how your tremors diminished, turning you into a whiny mess.

"She... She pissed on me?"

"What? No, you idiot!" Jace laughed more at his brother's question, realizing that he would not be disgusted if that was what had happened. Despite the urge to tease him about a possible unusual kink, Jace focused on his sister's tears. "It is okay... Shsh, you have been so good to us. Has not she, Luke?

Lucerys nodded readily, climbing on top of you to kiss your lips. You grimaced in disgust at the bittersweet taste of your own arousal. Allowing your brother to delve his tongue into your mouth as he squeezed one of your soft breasts, you placed a hand on his waist, your body yearning for more touch despite the exhaustion.

Your clit was still throbbing a little, and as soon as Luke got off of you, Jacaerys took the opportunity to position you better on the bed, the head resting on the pillow and the cheeks flushed while you watched your brothers finish undressing.

The shyness was clear on your flushed cheeks, chest heaving due to the intense recent climax and also due to the view in front of you. There was no denying the arousal you were experiencing anymore. You never imagined that you would see your brothers naked, at least not before your probable future marriage with one of them — which would mean that you would only see one of them naked, not both at the same time.

Without even realizing, you rubbed your thighs together, your gaze alternating between your two brothers. Jacaerys was a little stronger than Luke, with a more defined chest, more muscular thighs... And a big cock, you could swear it measured at least 16,5 centimeters, slightly arched upwards, the color of the shaft similar to his skin's, just a little darker, besides the pink tip. It was not thick, but it made up for its size.

Unlike Jace, your twin brother did not have a big cock, perhaps 13,5 centimeters, you assumed. He made up for it in thickness, though. It was so much thicker than his older brother’s, the pinkish color of the shaft perfectly matching the tip.

Plus, Jacaerys had a bit more pubic hair on his groin and they were a lighter shade of brown than Lucerys’.

Both of them looked fucking hot. You could not deny how wet you were getting again, your sensitive core not even caring how sore it was. You needed them, needed to feel some of them inside you. Fuck, you did not even care about how dangerous it would be if the Realm found out about your loss of maidenhead before the wedding, you did not even care about the rumors that might arise or about the possibility of the Moon Tea not having the necessary effect.

“Do you like what you see, little sister?” The older Velaryon's voice caught you off guard, face heating up and realizing you had been staring at their naked bodies for longer than you should have. With a low chuckle, Jace teased, "Now it is time for me to deflower you..."

Lucerys' eyes darted to the other prince "What? Why are you going to be the one to take her maidenhead?"

Jacaerys shrugged, not at all alarmed by his brother's sudden anger. "I am the firstborn, Luke, so it is only fair that I am the one who makes her a woman."

"Yeah, and I am her twin!"

You almost felt bad for his frustration, watching them with caution and hesitation. "She will be exhausted during my turn..."

Noticing the younger prince's disappointing, Jacaerys snorted and turned his gaze back to you. However, his thoughts went further. He loved you so much and longed to be the one to fuck you for the first time, to feel you bleeding around his cock as he stretched you...

But at the same time, Jacaerys could not stand Lucerys' expression. The poor boy looked like a kicked puppy, that damned frown and those damned hands clenched into fists, too childish for his age.

"Fine..." Jacaerys muttered, not at all pleased by that decision. He hated being so weak when it came to Lucerys' dramatic personality.

Lucerys could barely be sure he was hearing correctly, his heart skipping a beat. He wanted to ask if his brother was being serious or if it was some kind of mean joke, then Jace made a brief gesture for him to come closer to their sister.

Now kneeling between your spread legs, Luke panicked. He was really about to take your maidenhead. He was about to fuck you like he had always dreamed. And this was starting to turn him insecure, stuttering a few meaningless words to his brother, too nervous to be able to utter a normal sentence.

It did not take much effort for Jace to know what he wanted help with. Spitting on his own palm, he brought it to the boy's thick cock, smirking and admiring him whimpering and writhing due to the cold saliva. As much as he wanted to keep teasing him, Jacaerys just placed it in front of your entrance, bending down a little so he could spit on your clit too — even though he did not need to, you were soaked from the climax and squirt anyway.

"You are going to push inside her. It might be uncomfortable at first, because her maidenhead is intact, so you might feel overstimulated by her cunt walls." He kept his hand on Lucerys' shaft, who was now with a panting breath, trying not to moan like a pathetic little boy at his brother's touch. "Do not go all in at once, but do not be too gentle either. She will take the pain like the good girl she is for us."

After receiving the instructions and absorbing them into his brain, Lucerys agreed. It was enough for Jacaerys to pull away, the tip pressed against your entrance.

"You are so gorgeous, sister..."

He did not wait for a response to the compliment. He took a deep breath and thrust hard, your cry of pain muffled by your own palm. "O-Oh, holy shit!" He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling your virgin cunt crushing his cock. A sensation so warm and tight that he considered pulling it out to control himself.

Which he did not, thank the Gods. Lucerys ignored your tears, ignored Jace’s previous advice and also ignored the voice in his head that told him to be gentler. Everything he did was thrust even harder this time, his fat cock practically tearing you apart and deflowering you too rough. “F-Fuck, I am so sorry, sister… I just… Fuck, it feels so f-fucking g-good!” His trembling curses did little to comfort you, his hands gripping your waist when he stood there for a while, but not long enough for you to get used to it.

“L-Luke, it hurts…”

“Tsk, tsk. Do not you dare.” Jacaerys’ hands grabbed yours, holding them behind your head before you could try to push them against Lucerys’ chest. You had not noticed when he sat on your side of the bed, his cock so close you could even see the pre-cum dripping from it.

He silenced your pleas with an intense kiss, not wanting Lucerys to realize that you were really in pain. Well, he had told him to go slow at first... But that scene increased his arousal.

With his hips starting to slam harder, Lucerys held one of your legs and pulled it up, needing to spread them to get deeper into you, needing to fuck you to the hilt. "I am not going to last... O-Oh, fuck..." He whimpered, his cute face and his moans not doing justice to the rough movements inside you.

He had been craving this for so many years. It was a desire he had been feeding in his needy and greedy mind. So much time picturing, wanting, needing... And now you were finally his. He was your first man. The first to stick his cock inside you. The first to cum inside you...

"Cum out."

Lucerys almost recoiled at the sentence his brother had uttered. He could not be serious, could he? He could not really be wanting him to have the self-control to pull out before he came.

The severity of Jacaerys' stare unfortunately was living proof that it was not a playful request. It was an order — despite the fact that he was actually loving seeing his little brother turn into a pathetic mess as he fucked a cunt for the first time. It was delightful to watch you cry with each deep thrust, barely able to handle something so thick inside you.

Reluctantly, Lucerys whispered an irritated "okay," and then went back to fucking you. His pace turned more intense, the sound of his cock moving in and out was like music to Jacaerys' ears.

"O-Oh, Seven Hells! I am cumming..." Lucerys cried suddenly, hot tears streaming down the pretty face while he arched the head back with the terrifying intensity of the high. With his eyes rolling back, he just remembered to pull his cock out of cunt after he had already cum a large amount inside your hole, his hands shaking and spilling the rest at your belly.

Lucerys' body practically collapsed on top of yours, sobbing softly into your neck and grabbing your waist. "T-That was so good, so fucking good, sister..." His lips left several wet kisses on your collarbone.

The boy moved his kisses up to his sister's throat, receiving a strong slap on the shoulder right after. "You idiot, you came inside her!"

Lucerys could not say anything to defend himself about Jace's complaint, he just gave an embarrassed smile and kept his eyes closed.

"Damn it, now I am going to have to feel your cum while I fuck her..." His older brother grumbled, standing up to take Lucerys' place when he threw himself to the side, one arm remaining on your waist.

Running his fingers through your cum-and-blood-soaked entrance, Jace grumbled something else and taking some of those warm fluids, shoving his fingers inside Lucerys' mouth without asking for permission.

Perhaps it was because post-orgasm fatigue, or perhaps it was because another implicit kink... He sucked his brother's fingers, not even complaining, enjoying his own salty taste along with your sweet juices and the metallic blood. It was a mess of different flavors and Lucerys did not mind, licking it all clean again.

"Hmm, such a good boy."

You shook your head at Jacaerys, so tired and silently begging for some rest. The overstimulation felt like it was going to make you explode at any moment, your bones ached and your vision blurred due to the headache and the tears that insisted on flowing.

You had consented to that by threat and then genuinely consented when things flowed... And regret was slowly making itself present.

All you wanted was just a brief peace.

"Do not worry, darling... I will be as gentle as possible." There was a clear mockery in Jacaerys' tone, also that smirk and the way he pulled both of your legs up.

Unlike Luke, he did not fuck you with your legs spread. Jacaerys wanted to fuck you rougher, he wanted to make up for the fact that he had not been the one to deflower you. So he thrust in all at once, your mouth opening in a silent scream as you felt another cock inside you in such a short period of time.

Your cunt clenched around him, although he was not as thick as Luke, Jace was bigger and he hit you deep without any care or mercy. The other Velaryon boy's seed served as a lubricant for the new thrusts, making it easier for him to put it in and pull it out quickly but violently.

"F-Fuck, little sister..." Jace growled,, placing your feet against his chest so he could lower himself until he was closer to your face. "Even full of cum, your cunny still feels so fucking tight."

The new position was much more intimate than the previous one... You could see his facial expressions, his mouth half open and his brow furrowed, the force of pleasure consuming every inch of him. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass was humiliating, causing loud, wet noises you could all hear when he moved his hips back and thrust forward, pushing himself back into you.

Luke did not mind being so physically close to Jacaerys during that intimate moment. He watched the two of you with a tired smile, wondrously not feeling as jealous as he thought he would. His hands stroked your hair, giving his brother a mocking smirk for the first time that night. "How does my seed feel inside her, wetting your cock?"

Luke's unexpected tease surprised both of you and making you turn to him. Meanwhile you widened the eyes in shock at him, Jacaerys growled again, starting to fuck you so hard that it made your tits bounce like a cheap whore.

He had hated being teased by his younger brother, although he admitted to himself that there was a hot and different atmosphere about it. "It is sticky, warm..." His hips were now moving in an uncoordinated rhythm, rough thrusts that indicated that his orgasm would not be long in coming. "Fuck, I could fuck that cunny until you pass out. Feeling you milking my cock. You like that, do not you, little sister? Do you like your big brother's fat cock stretching that tight little cunt of yours?"

You whimpered a low agreement, Lucerys' lips suddenly sucking on one of your tits, getting aroused by the way they bounced during the fuck.

It was not a good enough answer yet, and Jacaerys slapped your clit with one hand, the other arm taking charge of supporting your legs on one side of his neck, a position that made you tighter. "Say it right!" He ordered, hitting the same spot, not giving you a chance to breathe with each slap.

When the fifth slap hit you and your bud began to throb with pain instead of pleasure, you cried out: "I-I like it! I like it! I love your... Y-Your big cock inside my cunt!"

Jacaerys could not help but smile at your words, looking like a child receiving the best gift on his name day. The serious and sadistic look returned soon after, his fingers now rubbing your cunt and tearing sobs of pain and pleasure from you. "I-I can't..." You whimpered, your hand gripping Luke's hair to keep him there, sucking on your breast like a baby.

You wanted to stop. You wanted to keep going. You wanted nothing. You wanted everything.

You needed to cum.

"Cum for me, little sister." Jace demanded, his balls already heavy and his pace becoming confusing even to him, showing the strong desperate desire. "Cum on your big brother's cock."

The sound of your trembling moans and the way your walls clenched around him pushed him over the edge. He thrust himself deep inside you, his eyes rolling back and groaning your name hoarsely.

His seed filled you completely, dripping down your ass before he pulled out and laid on the other side, his chest flushing and panting.

Your cunt clenched around the void and a few drops of clear liquid squirted out — just a small amount this time, nothing like the absurd amount that had splashed onto Lucerys.

"Wow... I think you have a natural gift." You grimaced at Jace's provocative whisper and he chuckled then, hugging your waist.

The three of you were sweaty, panting so bad. One brother was hugging your waist while the other rested his chin on your shoulder, smelling your hair. Silence reigned in the chambers for long minutes, everyone needing to recover from that act. An act so... Hot.

There was no other word to better describe what had happened on that bed. Everything there was hot, a desire that burned in your souls, a darkness that burned the veins. You never imagined that you would deal with something like that, so raw, so... Sick. It was scary. It was hot.

Neither of the Velaryon princes really thought about it when they lay down on your bed and encouraged you to take off your nightgown. Neither of them really thought they would need to manipulate you in order to fuck you.

"You know... You know we love you so much, right?" Lucerys asked with that typical worried look, his innocence returning as always. "I know we were cruel and rough tonight, but... We did it because we love you, sister."

Jacaerys, however, was not so sentimental, stopping his caressing of your waist to be able to hold your chin, a firm but not painful grip. "You took us so well, little sister. We are proud of you."

You said nothing, the tiredness too strong to resist anymore. In addition to your body, your mind also needed a rest, a time for you to assimilate the changes of your lives after that.

Jacaerys noticed this right away, kissing your lips slowly and enjoying the little whimper you let out. Lucerys followed, turning your face to his side and moaning softly with a more demanding and needy kiss. He deserved this, since he had always been so patient.

"Do not go away..."

The two boys were shocked by the vulnerable plea. They thought you would ask them to leave, to go back to their own beds like they always did when mornings approached. It was already the hour of the nightingale, the sun's rays would start to rise very soon, everyone in the castle would wake up and do their duties.

Deep down, Jacaerys suspected that Rhaenyra would be informed about all of that. Those moans and cries had been impossible not to be heard by the guards and servants. The guards would tell her about it, perhaps they had even called her to make sure that those sounds inside the princess's chambers were not caused by some male traitor.

The servants would start rumors very soon. So Rhaenyra would have to force one of her sons to marry her daughter in a hurry to try to quell the rumors, which certainly would not do much good. You could only marry one of them, and the future rumors would be that you might be pregnant with the other brother. Or perhaps both, if you had twins that were not physically identical.

Either way, there was no point in sneaking away.

They did not want to sneak away.

They needed you and you needed them too.

"We are not going anywhere. Not tonight and not ever." You sighed with relief at Luke's words, waiting for the two of them to snuggle up against you again, each of them breathing on either side of your neck.

More words were not necessary. They did not need to say anything to prove the love and desire they felt for you, they had proven that. You did not need to say anything to prove the love and submission you were capable of showing them, you had proven that.

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slut4thebroken · 7 months ago

Text

Reminisce

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | Your boyfriend of almost nine months finally reveals something to you.

Warnings | Consensual to NON CON, smut, forced breeding, baby trapping, scars, praise, forced orgasm, crying, blackmail?, past rape, lots of talk about rape, like a lot.

Words | 1.4 k

Notes | Pretend I posted this a week before Halloween like it says in the fic lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 19: forced orgasm

Also idk this gif just reminded me of this part “he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in.”

“Good girl… Take my fucking cock.” He gruffed, wrapping a hand around your neck, fucking you even harder. You cried out and clung to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. He was leaning over your body with your legs on his shoulders basically pushed flat against your chest, unable to do anything other than take it.

“Jackson..” You whined. Each hard thrust was punching little breaths and grunts out of you and he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, just barely smirking at the state he had you in.

“God— This reminds me so much of our first date.” He groaned, confusing you. Your first date was at a restaurant and he only kissed you after walking you to your door… You didn’t know what he was talking about and his cock ramming into you was making it really hard to think about it. He chuckled quietly when he saw your furrowed brows.

“You don’t remember? It was right here in this bed, you were dressed up as a cute little fairy for Halloween and I was wearing a mask…” He trailed off, waiting for you to finally figure it out. Your stomach dropped as you recalled what was probably the worst night of your entire life. “You looked so pretty crying and begging for me like that, I knew I had to make you mine.” He said with a small smile, sounding almost endeared.

You stared up at him in shock and horror as the small scar below your collarbone started aching at the memory. There’s no way that your boyfriend of almost nine months was the one who broke into your apartment and raped you last Halloween.

“W-what?” You said through a breath, voice barely audible. His smirk widened as he took in the terror on your face.

“I was thinking of waiting until Halloween, but I just couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled. “Plus it’s only a week away, and I figured you might shut down on the actual day.”

All you could do was stare at him, a huge wave of emotions crashing down on you. When the angle of his thrusts shifted a little and he hit that one spot inside of you, you suddenly remembered that he was still fucking you and you started pushing him away.

“Get the fuck off of me.” Any malice in your tone was completely overshadowed by fear. In response, he just grinned and squeezed your neck even harder until you gasped for air.

“You were so tight that day… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for almost a year.” He groaned, then his eyes flitted down to your chest. “And that scar… Every time I see it I remember how pretty you looked, crying and begging under me as you took my cock like a good little girl— just like you’re doing now.”

“Get off!” You yelled, the tears in your eyes beginning to fall as you thrashed under him. He shushed you and just grabbed your wrists to pin them above your head with one hand while the other moved to trace over the scar.

“You know… The first time you got all choked up when I asked about it, I had to go to the bathroom and jerk off.” He chuckled quietly, looking between your face and the scar with an almost fond expression.

“Stop!” You screamed, becoming hysterical. “Jackson, please.” When you broke out into a sob, he cursed under his breath and moaned loudly, his thrusts becoming more frantic.

“God- you were crying just like this…” He groaned, dragging his gaze all over your tear streaked face. “Only last time you weren’t about to come on my cock.” He said smugly.

You shook your head almost violently, but you could feel your orgasm still approaching, despite what you just learned.

“And, between you and me… based on how hysterical you were last year, I was worried you wouldn’t be interested in a relationship at all— let alone sex…” He said teasingly, but his voice was becoming breathless as he neared his own release. “But you surprised me.” He chuckled quietly. You could barely focus on his words with how hard you were crying, feeling completely frozen underneath him. “You were so desperate for it too. I guess that’s normal though… Something about reclaiming control over your body and what not.”

“Jackson, please stop.” You sobbed brokenly, but he wasn’t deterred at all.

“Stop? But you were just moaning like a little whore for me two minutes ago.” He said coyly.

“I hate you!” You suddenly screamed, making him laugh again.

“No. You hate yourself because you’re about to cream all over your rapist’s cock.” The hand not holding your wrists down moved to rub your clit and your crying intensified.

“Stop!” You shrieked, thrashing under him uselessly.

“Beg harder, baby… I’m close.” He moaned as his thrusts sped up. The smirk on his face that used to make you blush, made you sick to your stomach this time.

You were mumbling incoherent protests and pleas and he let his head drop down as he moaned loudly. His fingers never faltered on your clit and you could feel your unwanted orgasm rapidly approaching.

“No… No— please.” You sobbed weakly, making him look at you again.

“Do it, slut. Come on my fucking cock while I rape you again.”

You were crying almost violently now, tears streaming down your cheeks as you practically started hyperventilating. “Please..” You whimpered, squirming under him weakly. The coil of arousal in your belly wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending you over the edge. “No,” you sobbed and Jackson groaned as your pussy fluttered around his cock.

“Oh, good girl…” He cooed, making you cry harder. “That's it… Cream all over my dick, baby.” His usually smug tone that used to fill your stomach with butterflies, now just made you nauseous.

“Stop! Please stop, Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, unable to hold back your moans and whimpers as his fingers continued rubbing firm circles on your clit.

His lips parted in a silent moan and his eyes closed as his head fell forward, landing on your chest. With one final grunt, he bottomed out, his cockhead pressing against your cervix uncomfortably. You whined through quiet sobs, all while Jackson moaned… savoring every last bit of your suffering.

“Fuck..” He said through a breathy laugh once his orgasm finally faded. He leaned up, taking in the sight of your glossy eyes and quivering lip, then grabbed your cheeks to hold you still, letting him kiss you. No matter how hard you tried to turn away, he was stronger. He only released you once he was completely satisfied. “Mm… good girl.” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. You were completely frozen under him, only able to let out hiccuping sobs.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, his voice overly sweet. “But you’re not gonna leave me.” You stared at him, trying to keep a brave face, but you knew he could see your fear. “Raped twice? You’re damaged goods, sweetheart. No respectable man is gonna want you now.” You let out a choked sob and closed your eyes, hearing him coo again.

“Plus…” when his voice turned a little serious, your blood ran cold in anticipation, “you’re gonna need me to stick around for our kid.”

Your lips parted and you stared at him with both confusion and fear as you trembled. “What?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Lucky me, finding a girl who’s selfish enough to make sex feel less good— all because of the ‘hormones’ and side effects of birth control.” He sneered, his voice cold but with a cruel, almost playful lilt. Then he casually added, “You should be pregnant by now. I’ve been poking holes in all the condoms for almost two weeks.”

“Jackson…” You sobbed brokenly, not even knowing how to react.

“I know, honey, but I’ll take good care of you.” He pet your hair gently, then wiped away the tears on your face. “Your boss should be getting something in the mail soon. After he fires you, you’ll finally be able to live up to your full potential. You can move in with me and only have to worry about taking care of the house and our kids, and servicing my cock. Doesn’t that sound nice?” All you could do was cry and shake your head.

“You’re gonna love it.” He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I promise.”

#jackson rippner x reader smut #jackson rippner smut #jackson rippner x reader #jackson rippner #cillian murphy #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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godmadeaterribleerror · 4 months ago

Text

Pound of Flesh Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, severe mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con and past abuse, and sexual content.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, eventual happy ending.

Series Summary

You are not a saint. You are not a hero. You’re barely even a living person, because living people have lives that extended beyond work and their apartment. But you’re not quite nobody, either. You’re too much, and not enough, and just in the shadows with a prayer to be saved that isn't genuine and secrets that mean nothing.

They should’ve meant nothing.

Yet here you are. In more danger than usual, being threatened by Hydra without knowing why, and being assigned a security detail you don’t want by Captain America.

Bucky Barnes is good at his job. You’re not going to die.

But you might end up strangling him before Hydra gets to either of you.

Author's Note

This story is a non-canon compliant, taking place after the Falcon and the Winter Solider and diverging entirely from the canon universe. This means two things:

1) Any movies or TV shows released after No Way Home didn't happen in this universe, and that will become more and more relevant as we go on.

2) We're playing a little fast and loose with Marvel lore because there's so much of it, and I'm trying my best but I've also added a few thing for the sake of this story, so if you have questions, please ask!

I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - I Can't Get Clean Chapter 2 - Hell to Raise Chapter 3 - Burning in the Lava Chapter 4 - Too Much Green Chapter 5 - Know Who You Are Chapter 6 - It Rises Fast Chapter 7 - Have You Noticed Chapter 8 - What I Can't Have Chapter 9 - All I've Learned Chapter 10 - Always On My Mind Chapter 11 - Twice the Heart Chapter 12 - You Can Take All the Pain Chapter 13 - I Can Take You Higher Chapter 14 - Inside and Out Chapter 15 - Wait for It Chapter 16 - Till A Star Breaks Through Chapter 17 - Through the Thunder (6/28)

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divaofmads · 5 days ago

Text

Thanatos | Dr. Crane

Pairing Jonathan Crane x Female Reader

Gif by @breakfastonuranus

Summary: A psychopath who wants to control fears — and a woman willing to become his plaything. On a journey filled with desire and fear, control and pleasure begin to blur into one.

⚠️ Warnings: +18, MDNI, NSFW, Smut, Fingering, Domination, Vaginal Sex, Rape/non-con/underage content is not present or condoned, The content explores consensual dark erotica and kink with clear agency, Age Gap (F! 20 -M! 30), Heavy sexual tension, Dark themes, Psychological manipulation, Obsession, Gaslighting, Dark!JonathanCrane, Fear Kink, Toxic relationship dynamics, Fear Serum Mentions, Experimental drug use (fictional substance, psychological context), Power imbalance (mentor x intern dynamic), Do not romanticize manipulation in real life, English is not my first language so excuse my mistakes. I write purely as a hobby, not as a professional.

Word Count: +10k

Dividers by @arcielee

📌A/N: While writing this story, I drew inspiration from Freud’s concept of the death drive (Thanatos), the life/sexual drive (Eros), and the dark line where these two opposing forces intertwine. What is told here is not just a fantasy; it's also about how people approach their desires with fear, and how they transform fear into desire. My story is both a warning and a surrender. Like a life lived under the shadow of death. Or like the sudden sense of absence that appears at the very depth of pleasure.

You began to tidy up the scattered documents on your desk. Files, pens, your glasses case. You slowly zipped up your bag and stood. Adjusted your shoulders. Noticed the bottom button of your shirt had ridden up and hastily tucked it back in. Your reflection in the mirror showed a tired but content expression, the day was over, or so you thought. Your palms were still clammy, because working in Dr. Crane’s office wasn’t merely an academic duty; it was a kind of survival art. Even his silence was a threat, and you had no choice but to obey it.

The wall clock had just passed six, its ticking sound slicing through the silence like a blade. In your mind still lingered the notes you’d taken throughout the day, the patients you observed, and Dr. Crane’s meticulous gaze. That gaze had followed you like a shadow through Arkham’s dimly lit corridors all day. Even though barely two sentences had escaped his lips, Jonathan Crane seemed to read you with a chilling precision. It was as if he knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling, what you were suppressing, better than you did. And the most terrifying part? He seemed to enjoy it.

Just as you turned toward the door… the handle clicked. And like a cold gust of wind, he entered.

He stepped in holding his notebook, and the air in the room shifted. The temperature seemed to drop by a few degrees. The dirty yellow light highlighted the pale sharpness of his features. His eyes looked at you like a hunter sizing up prey, just before striking.

“I don’t recall granting you permission to leave.”

His tone was low, measured, and deep. But the undertone was ice-cold. It wasn’t merely a sentence, it was a decision, a judgment, a command. Your heart skipped. Your hand remained on your bag strap; you couldn’t move forward or backward.

You opened your mouth, but the words stalled on your tongue. Because you knew there was no point in arguing. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just a strict professor; he was like a surgeon dissecting you. He had placed your soul on the table, opened your veins, and watched you from the inside. Not just as a student, but as a subject.

“It’s past six... I just…” you said softly, like a child retreating to defense. “I was just packing up, doctor.”

His expression didn’t change. His eyes stayed locked on your face. Then, he stepped closer. The door didn’t shut, through the crack, a line of sterile white light cut into the dark office like a blade.

“So you were preparing to escape before I dismissed you?”

His voice didn’t rise, but the subtle sarcasm scraped at your insides. Your gaze dropped to the floor, your head bowed slightly. Your shoulders sagged. You knew everything, this damned internship, hung between his lips. He had told you on the first day: “If you want to stay here, you’ll follow my rules. My rules are... changeable. Like your courage.”

“No... no, I just misunderstood, I think…” you said, but before you could finish, the strap of your bag slipped from your fingers. A small thud. And then silence. And his footsteps, ah, those slow, deliberate steps began echoing across the hard floor, sending a shiver through you.

Jonathan stood in front of you. He didn’t tilt his head or raise your chin when he spoke. The space between you was barely a breath. You smelled him; a metallic medicinal scent, a hint of sweat, and the dusty aroma of old book covers. His face was expressionless, but his eyes… they watched you break.

“This internship… requires diligence. Small details often determine fate. For instance, do you know who decides when you’re allowed to leave this office?”

You slowly shook your head. Your lips parted, but you gave no answer.

“I do,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. “Not you. Not the bell. Don’t think you’re ‘free’ just because the sun has set. I control this institution’s rhythm, Y/N. And your little sense of time can’t disrupt my system.”

He reached out. His fingers moved toward the button on your collar but didn’t unfasten it. He only touched it. With cold and steady pressure. It felt like he was pressing not on the fabric, but on your throat. A tremble rose beneath your heart. A shiver coursed down your spine. You weren’t afraid… at least, not just afraid. There was something in that touch a submissive surrender mingled with fear.

“If you want to leave…” he said, and with his thumb under your button, he lifted your chin, “...you’ll ask for permission. While looking me in the eyes.”

You stood there, head bowed. Your body motionless, but inside, storms were brewing. Jonathan Crane’s eyes were on you. He had your strings in his hand, unraveling you. He didn’t even need to raise a hand. That eye contact was pushing you back, further and further from yourself. You swallowed against the heat swelling in your throat.

“Please… may I leave, Dr. Crane?”

Your voice was soft, barely a whisper. But in the silence, it was a confession, an audible expression of your submission to his authority. You didn’t want to please him as much as you feared angering him. Because his wrath wouldn’t be verbal, it would come through action. And while you didn’t yet know what he was capable of… your imagination was more than active.

His eyes lingered on you for a few seconds. Then, his eyelids drooped slightly, and he tilted his head ever so slightly. He examined you. Smelled your helplessness.

“No,” he said flatly. The word echoed like a bullet hitting the wall. “We’re not finished yet.”

Your heart paused. What could you say? To object… would be suicide. Your shoulders dropped. You dared to meet his eyes.

“But…” you said, swallowing hard, “…it’s past working hours. For today…”

“Be quiet,” he cut you off. His voice didn’t rise. But the tone, was like a slap that shattered any thought of defiance. “If you work with me, time does not belong to you. Understand? Time is mine.”

He took another step. The sound of his shoes still echoed coldly on the floor, but now he was just inches from you. Your eyes drifted to his chest, just below the collar. You couldn’t see his heartbeat, but it was there. Close. Dangerous. Yet… alluring. With the back of his hand, he lifted your chin this time. His palm was warm, but the skin he touched went numb. When your eyes met his… your balance shifted.

“You’ll go down to the archive room,” he said softly. His fingers remained at your chin, pressure slightly increasing. “Retrieve file A-38. The one with the red label. When you bring it back, we’ll… examine it together.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t about going to the archive. You didn’t care about the contents of the file. What mattered, was his tone. His request, so unnecessary and arbitrary… was a test. A rehearsal for control. A reminder of your place, your time of surrender.

“I suggest you move quickly,” he added. He removed his hand from your face but immediately reached again for the button on your collar. “And if you try to leave again without permission… next time, we’ll speak differently.”

He didn’t press the button. He just paused there. But for a moment, you felt your whole body lock beneath the tip of his finger.

He held your gaze for a moment longer. Then turned and walked toward the bookshelf. All that remained was silence, your shallow breath, and the fragile desire trembling in the cold room.

Your fingers trembled. You tried to suppress the storm inside as you took a deep breath. You knew… when you returned with that file, what awaited you wouldn’t be limited to the pages.

And the next time you stepped into that office…

you wouldn’t leave as yourself.

As you stepped into the corridor, even your own footsteps sounded too loud in your ears. It felt as if each step echoed off the walls, amplifying the noise inside your head. Your fingers were still trembling slightly, but you weren’t sure if it was from fear… or the lingering phantom warmth of where he had touched you. Your heart fluttered inside your chest like a restless creature clawing to escape. Your body moved forward, but your mind was still in his office. That tone of voice, the breath that brushed your neck, that single word: “No.”

No.

He had said no. And for the first time in your life, after someone told you “no,” instead of stepping back, you had chosen to move forward.

That was what shamed you the most. That fluid guilt flowing through your veins. Yes, you had to obey his command. This internship was a necessity for you. But deep down, you knew, it was no longer just about obedience. There was a need rising from within, something you couldn’t name. When you looked into his eyes, there was something stirring in you, something that made you feel… tainted. Desire and hatred should never be so tightly woven together. It shouldn’t be like this. Why did the dark feel so… alluring?

Why did his humiliation burn just like his touch?

Your underwear had grown damp. Even that detail embarrassed you. If he had realized what state you were in around him… he’d tear you apart. And even as you imagined that moment of unraveling, you felt shame.

You took a deep breath. Tried to collect yourself. The archive room was at the end of the corridor. “I’m just getting a file,” you told yourself. “A piece of paper. That’s all. Calm down.”

But your steps began to shorten. Because as you neared the door, all you could see was a slit of dim light. Most of the ceiling lamps were broken. The archive room was one of the least used, most forgotten spaces in Arkham. When you pushed the door open, the metal hinges groaned with rust. The creaking sound slithered across your skin like a chill.

Inside… was a dark labyrinth.

Only one fluorescent light flickered weakly on the left. It gave off more of a tremble than brightness. The rest was in total darkness. The shelves, if you could even call them that, were chaotic. Stacks of files, labels scattered across the floor, toppled folders. The place looked like it had been abandoned after a war. Which section was A, which was B? Where were the red-labeled files? Nothing was clear.

There were narrow paths. Just barely enough space between the shelves to squeeze through. Turning, bending, even taking a deep breath felt difficult. You felt like even a moment’s distraction, as small as a loose screw, could bring the whole structure crashing down on you. The air was stale. The familiar scent of dust filled your nose. You tried not to cough. In this silence, even the slightest sound from your throat felt too much.

A-38.

With a red label.

Your mind repeated the instruction over and over. Your feet moved cautiously between the shelves. But with each step, you felt more and more lost. Not physically… mentally. This place felt like Crane’s mind: cluttered, chaotic, narrow, out of control, yet woven with a strange, magnetic logic that kept pulling you in.

You lifted a few folders. A-14, A-22… C-03… B-67… All jumbled. Some labels were torn, others faded. As your hand brushed over the folder covers, the moist, dusty cardboard tickled your skin. Your eyes were adjusting to the dark, but your body remained on high alert. You kept feeling like if you turned around, someone would be standing there. Or… maybe you wanted to feel that.

Because his voice was still in your head. “If you try to leave again without permission…”

It echoed in your mind like an unfinished threat.

And you… you were beginning to hope for more than just threats.

You didn’t know how long you’d been struggling among the files. Time seemed warped in here. Your fingers were dark with dust, your elbows scratched from the sharp cardboard edges. Your back ached from twisting and bending in this oppressive space. But above all, you felt a weight. Something non-physical… an instinctual pressure. Your heart was slowly speeding up. Your ears buzzed. And strangest of all, at the tip of your nose, you smelled him. That same metallic, medicinal tone mixed with a dark cologne… or was it just your imagination?

Just as you were sifting through the lower section of the B shelf, a shadow suddenly passed to your right and struck the floor. You hadn’t heard any footsteps. As someone appeared behind you, your body instinctively tensed, but then you heard his voice. That cold, sleek blade of a voice, full of restrained authority, familiar and terrifying.

“Truly… that a task this simple challenges you so deeply is… disappointing.”

His voice was too close. And as soon as you heard it, your heart clenched and the tension radiated through every inch of your body. Your hand still rested on the files, but your focus shattered. The space behind you… wasn’t empty anymore. Just like the silence in your mind. He was here. Quietly. Watching. Patiently. And now… he had arrived.

You swallowed, feeling your throat muscles scrape against each other. Your eyes scanned the shelf in front of you, but the letters made no sense anymore.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. “It’s… quite disorganized. The labels are missing.”

It was an explanation, but also a defense. Because the thought of disappointing him had carved itself deeper into you than fear. It felt cruel, yes, but also… like a fragile form of attachment.

His presence shifted behind you. No sound. But your body could feel every subtle movement he made. The distance between you was shrinking. This shelf row was barely wide enough for two people to stand side by side. And he wasn’t moving past you. He was behind you. Very close.

You couldn’t move. His breath grazed the exposed part of your neck and you instinctively held your breath. Nothing touched your back, but where was he? He was close. You felt it in your bones.

“This file,” he said, his voice landing near your right ear, “is a kind of… case study we’ll be working on. If you want to learn, and you must, for this internship, you must understand what and why you’re looking for. Otherwise, you’ll wander in the dark like a blind subject.”

One more step. This time, you couldn’t suppress your breath. Because something lightly touched your back. Not harsh, not aggressive… but definite. His body, maybe his jacket… or simply his nearness was enough to make you feel it. You realized someone had bent near your waist. Then, something brushed the inside of your arm. A fine fabric. His hand. Moving discreetly at your elbow. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t turn your head. Your face was blank. But inside… chaos exploded.

And he continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

“Perhaps someone like you struggles to find what they’re looking for… because they don’t quite know what it is they’re seeking.”

The end of his sentence was dangerously close to your ear. But the real realization was that your body had forgotten how to move. You stayed as you were, hands resting on the files. Because if you moved, the contact might become more obvious. Or… it might change. It might go further.

And maybe… you wanted it to.

And the most terrifying, most shameful thought was this:

You wanted to stay like this.

As your fingers kept gliding over the folders, Crane’s presence was no longer debatable, it wrapped around you like a second skin. You stood caught between the shelf and his body, positioned so that even the lack of space itself felt intoxicating. The tightness of the archive room pressed him closer, yet he moved as if it were nothing but necessity. But nothing about this was natural. Every move was calculated, every breath rehearsed.

Suddenly, his right arm reached over you to grab one of the folders above. As the inside of his arm passed just behind your shoulder, you felt his hips brush against you, for the first time, there was no ambiguity in the contact. You held your breath, but he kept moving as if nothing had happened. His fingertips hovered over the labels, yet he didn’t move his body an inch away. On the contrary… he leaned in, just slightly.

The side of your neck was bare. Strands of your hair were messily falling. That’s when you heard his voice again. This time, lower. More personal. His vocal cords nearly touched your skin.

"Why are your hands shaking?"

It wasn’t a question. Not even an observation. It was a kind of threat, silent, implied. Not physical. Psychological. His voice seeped under your skin. The heat of his breath vibrated at your neck. Your shoulder now felt like it was pinned to his chest. There was no room to retreat. The shelf in front, his body behind. Your breath shortened. You thought of saying “stop”… but your tongue didn’t move. Because you didn’t want him to. But you couldn’t ask him to start, either. You were circling inside a moral void. And yes, you were scared it might cost you your internship.

He raised his hand again, reaching for another folder. This time, the motion was slower. As his fingers passed just in front of your arm, his palm lightly brushed your wrist. And stayed. He didn’t pull back. Not until he had the folder. The weight of his hand pressed against your skin, unmoving. You closed your eyes, tried to hold your breath—but your chest started rising and falling too fast.

And he noticed. Of course, he did. For Jonathan Crane, your body's responses were data. He didn’t need your words to understand. Your pulse, your breathing, the trembling at your fingertips... they were maps to him. And reading those maps gave him pleasure.

He leaned in a little closer. You felt him move through your hair. His lips were nearly at your exposed neck. It made your skin shiver. Your eyes locked on the labels along the far wall, but none of the letters made sense anymore.

You were scared. Every brush of his skin had carved itself into yours. But what followed shattered you even more. His other hand touched your outer thigh, just above the hem of your skirt. A warm touch. Maybe even a caress. But done in a way that suggested accident, like it was just part of the motion.

You swallowed hard. The knot in your throat wouldn’t loosen. You couldn’t speak. Your back was being pressed further into his torso. You were locked in place. And yet, his hands remained—on the surface—innocent. He was just browsing folders. Just… helping.

But his touch lingered longer each time. Each folder he reached for, he seemed to do so with unnecessary tenderness. Like he wasn’t touching paper, but skin. When he pulled one out, his hand grazed your hip. “Accidentally.” But it was too specific to be dismissed. And when your knees trembled, his breathing deepened. His chest rose beneath his jacket. He was watching you. Drinking in your reactions.

“You’re feeling too much. That pleases me. It means... there’s still something left in you to break.”

That’s when it hit you. This wasn’t just about finding a folder. This was a session. A covert experiment. You were his subject. The narrow archive aisle was the lab, and your helpless responses were the data. Every small shiver echoed inside him.

For a moment, you imagined yourself through his eyes. Someone who couldn’t move, couldn’t flee, and yet… wouldn’t say “no.” Your chest tightened. But within that tightness, something darker bloomed. A pleasure you couldn’t explain pulled you deeper.

And Jonathan Crane… he wasn’t rushing to drag you there. He was guiding you slowly. Without force. Without resistance.

Because you were already breaking.

The folder with the red label trembled between your fingers, shining like salvation. It had been wedged deep behind the shelf, covered in dust, nearly invisible. The rustling sound it made as you pulled it free shattered the icy shell inside you. Your heart began to race, but this time, it felt like breathing again.

“Ah... this is it,” you said, your voice trembling with a fragile kind of joy. “We’re saved.”

That word slipped out before you realized: saved.

Your own tongue had chosen it, as if aware of the weight of the moment. The presence of the man behind you still burned on your skin. But the file… was just an excuse.

You reached back with a gentle but decisive touch, placing your hand against Crane’s chest. It wasn’t gratitude, it was an attempt to escape. And the moment your fingertips met his warmth, it hit you like a blow. But when you pushed, he didn’t resist at all.

It was as if he’d only been there to observe you.

As if he wasn’t trying to trap you, but provoke a response. And he got it.

Once you stepped out of the narrow aisle in the archive room, you inhaled deeply. As the door creaked shut behind you, you realized something inside you hadn’t followed. It lingered on your skin. On your hip, your wrist, your neck... everywhere he had touched, a trace remained. A shadow.

You clutched the folder to your chest and started walking. Your steps became mechanical. Your left arm supported the file tightly, your other hand opened and closed in the empty air. Your eyes looked ahead, but your thoughts clung to words for distraction. You tried to smile. Maybe if you laughed, it would pass. Maybe if you spoke, everything that had just happened would disappear.

“Finally,” you said with a light smile. “Those shelves were like a battlefield. I think A-38 might be this building’s best-kept secret.”

Your voice tried to sound natural, but it felt foreign even to your own ears. Something inside you was still trembling. It hadn’t stayed behind. It was walking with you. His hands, his breath, his voice were now buried in silence, yet you could still feel him.

Dr. Crane was watching you. His eyes were on your face.

Through Arkham’s long corridors, the echoes of your footsteps over cracked ceramic tiles accompanied his silence. He didn’t say a word. Nothing. That made you feel even more on edge. His silence wasn’t a punishment, it was a clue. He knew he had read you. And now, he was enjoying the sight of you trying to wear your armor again.

You felt his gaze. Heavy. Sharp. Like fingers pressing into your back. It wasn’t the kind of desire that chased, it engulfed. A shadow wrapping around you from the inside. Picking through your mind. Memorizing your skin. The desire of a man who devoured you not with his hands, but with his eyes.

And no matter how much you clung to words, that silence… said more than any sentence could.

When you entered his office, the space transformed again into Crane’s domain. Unlike the cramped archive, it was wider, but somehow more intimate. The light was muted. The amber glow of the lamps leaned across the desk, casting soft halos on the papers, forming shadows. But here, shadows weren’t just from objects, they were intentions.

As you opened the folder, he sat down in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. His fingertips touched one another, the familiar position of the observer. His eyes weren’t on your face. They hovered just below your neck, on the fabric of your shirt. But he wasn’t looking. He was scanning.

As you pulled the files from the folder, you noticed he hadn’t moved closer. Not yet. But his breath arrived before any motion did.

On the top right corner of the first page, there was a date: 03.08.22

Below it, a name: Leonid F. Klein.

And beneath that, a note scribbled in handwriting: “The perfect lie. Even to himself.”

“Klein,” Crane said, not taking his eyes off your hands, “a case of obsessive-compulsive behavior coupled with advanced mythomania. Which means he wasn’t just a pathological liar. His sense of reality was fractured. Lying wasn’t a defense, it was structure. Pleasure.”

His voice was low, but every emphasis carefully chosen. Just like the words. You rotated the file slightly toward him so both of you could read at once. That motion brought your shoulder close enough to touch his. Your knees nearly brushed. But neither of you pulled away.

“In cases like this,” he continued, fingers tapping the desk’s edge, “we don’t just look at the lie itself. We look at what need shaped it. Sometimes, the individual... requires a process even to confess the lie they wish were true.”

He placed his hand near the page. Close, but not quite touching yours. Yet you could feel the heat of his skin. The deliberate proximity.

“For instance,” he said, lowering his voice further, “imagine someone’s made to do something they didn’t want. They may say they didn’t want it. But the body... might tell another story.”

“Klein was the same. He always said, ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’ But his pupils would dilate. His voice would soften. His pulse would spike. The body doesn’t make alliances with lies.”

A pause followed. Not from lack of information, but to listen to your reaction.

Your breathing had changed. He noticed.

Your hand trembled. He saw that too.

His eyes slid from your face to your chest, then to your neck, and finally... to the edge of your lips.

He didn’t say a word. But somehow... he said it all.

��People often want what they claim they don’t. But knowing that, hurts. You have the intellect to understand that.”

These words weren’t direct. But their weight was unmistakable.

You felt exposed. You stared at the table.

He touched your shoulder with the outside of his hand. This time, deliberately. Gauging your response. Then he leaned in. As he turned the next page, he spoke beside your ear.

“Do you know what a liar truly seeks, more than anything?”

“To be believed?”

“No. To be caught.”

You swallowed. Hard. Your eyes drifted toward the corner of the room. But your body, as if trying to escape, shifted slightly away from the desk. Your hip slid to the side, putting space between your leg and his. The distance still looked professionally acceptable. But what you felt… had already passed those boundaries.

He brushed your fingertips with his. Brief. Soft. But calculated.

“One doesn’t only defend themselves from others… but from their own impulses. And impulses... love resistance. Resistant minds are their favorite playground.”

With those words, he finally looked into your eyes. Fully.

And brought you to the edge.

Jonathan Crane’s touch on your hand ended in a thin line. The closeness he had maintained up until that moment had been sharp and patient; but now he pulled back. He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes for a few seconds. He left between you not a tense silence, but a calculating space. Then, when his eyelids slowly opened, it was as if he had become a completely different man, but he was still the same Crane. Only he had moved into the next phase.

He tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. Rhythmic, thoughtful. Then he tilted his head slightly to the side, his eyes returning to the pages. But there was a sentence on his lips that would pierce your mind:

“Do you remember… that new prototype I mentioned last term? A beta-typogenic class combination… a type of fluid. A formula that facilitates the confessional reflex. It is being developed to overcome behavioral blockages.”

His tone was neutral, as if you were in a classroom. But that was only the first layer. His words were presented to you as a technical reminder; but what was seeping beneath the tone… was something else entirely.

His jawline was harder. The inside of his eyes was measuring.

He was measuring whether he remembered or not, not just on the level of knowledge, but on another level as well.

“It’s a very interesting thing, chemically,” he continued. “There’s a very fine line between the neurological structures needed to tell a lie and the structures needed to repress it. If you can blur that line… everything that’s repressed comes to the fore. It spills out into words. Inevitably.”

You held your breath. Your hand was still on the corner of the file, but you weren’t looking at the pages anymore. As he spoke to you, he stood up abruptly. The slight creak of his chair echoed through the room like a small tremor. He turned his back to you and headed for a closet in the back corner of the office. His movements were not quick; each step was measured and heavy. As he opened the closet door, the fluorescent light reflecting off the metal shelves inside dazzled him.

He reached out and pulled out a small glass tube. Inside was a liquid as dark as night and quivering with a golden hue. The liquid moved slowly inside the glass, rippling as if it were breathing.

Jonathan turned to you, twirling the tube between his thumb and forefinger. His face was still expressionless. But his eyes… bore the impatience of a God about to begin an experiment.

“I’m glad you remembered,” he said. “But the question is… whether you have the confidence to put this theoretical knowledge into practice.”

He moved closer. He stood across the table, holding the tube in his palm. From where you were looking, the liquid was clearer now. The glass had been warmed by his body heat. He didn’t hand it to you. Not yet.

“The effect of the drug is temporary,” he said. “It doesn’t cause unconsciousness. It doesn’t involve external intervention. It just… brings out what’s inside. It doesn’t numb. It cleanses. It erases obstructions.”

Then he stepped forward. He came around the corner of the table and approached you. The tube was still steady in his hand. His stance was under control, but your breath was close enough to brush his chest. He lowered his voice another notch. He whispered, as if only you could hear: “Do you trust me?”

The words were easy. But their content was poisonous. And then came another sentence; that fragile persuasion that trapped you, leaving no way out: “Or… is there something you’re afraid to confess?”

Your whole body tensed. Because at this point, the choice was no longer whether to accept the drug or not.

The choice was whether to accept and accept how much you obeyed him. Whether to learn who you were in his hands or not. And he was offering you this drug as a personal tool, not just an experimental one. Would you choose to deny yourself?

Or, looking into his eyes… surrender?

Jonathan finally placed the tube on the table. He rolled it slowly to a stop. He locked his eyes with yours. There was a threatening expectation in his eyes. A cold, scientific, frightening curiosity-infused expectation. A decision that seems like "it's your decision", but in fact it has already been made for you.

The glass of the tube stopped spinning on the table. The movement had stopped, but the liquid inside seemed to still stir. It vibrated with uncertainty, fear, but also with an uncontrollable curiosity, just like the restlessness inside you.

You smiled. Forced it. Your facial muscles relaxed for a moment, your voice tried to sound natural.

“We can’t do this… I mean, it was an experiment. A prototype. I don’t know if testing it on yourself… is reasonable or ethical. It might even be… illegal.”

The rise in the voice at the end was tried to sound like a joke. But even you didn’t believe it. Your eyes still avoided his. Because there… there was a darkness reading you. A clinical coldness that analyzed not only your behavior but also your desires.

Jonathan Crane was silent for a moment. His head tilted slightly to the side. The line between his eyebrows wasn’t just a superficial sign of thought. He was watching you. He was listening to all the “no’s” you had hidden under that sentence. And then he spoke. Slow, sharp, as if every word had been chosen to tear you apart from the inside.

“I don’t meet students like you every semester. Do you know what’s interesting? They’re all brilliant at first. They’re all praised with grades. But then… they’re not tested. And no success that isn’t tested is real.”

He took a step toward you. His hands were tied behind his back. He was taller than you; his position was that of a judge rather than a teacher. He was cold. But that coldness… seemed like it would be warmed by a punishment.

“You think you’re ‘the best,’ don’t you? The most careful, the most patient, the most meticulous… even the most courageous. But none of these… should apply only to the classroom. There’s no room for these fairy tales in your professional life.”

The words seeped in. To be the best. That was the command you wrote inside yourself. You wanted to be ‘the first’ in his eyes. To be distinguished, to be seen as different. Because this internship… was the most fragile bridge of your career. And Crane had caught you on that bridge.

“Do you remember the students before you?” he asked. “Not one of them has been in this room with me where you are now. None of them have come this close. None of them… had this much potential.”

Your breath caught between your lips. Your chest heaved rapidly, but that breath was not a victory… it was a loss. He had set you apart. He had offered you the title of first place, but that title came with a price.

And Crane, as the one who held the prize, reminded you of that price:

“People like you can’t afford to be weak. They’re not afraid to make a decision. They think you won’t hesitate.”

“But now… you’re running away. You’re afraid. Because this is the first time you’ve been put to the test.”

His eyes locked on yours. Not to convince, but to leave no room for escape. Then he turned his head slowly. He opened the drawer on the desk. He pulled out a sterile syringe with a black frame.

It was the same temperature as the glass tube, but much more menacing. And he began to prepare this threat, as if it were a ceremony, calmly and methodically.

“It doesn’t change you. It just… opens you up to you.”

“Without any external interference, it just lets you face your truth. That’s what all ‘successful’ people avoid. Learning… who you really are.”

A note of tone appeared in his voice as his fingers tested the steel of the needle:

“If this is too much for you… maybe you’re not as brave as I thought.”

There it was. It was chosen to sink in. If you’re afraid, it’s because you’re weak. If you don’t accept, it’s because you’re not ready. And you… had to be ready. Because in his eyes, you were ‘the best.’

And in his eyes, being ‘the best’ was tantamount to obedience.

The hissing sound as the syringe began to draw the liquid echoed through the room. The golden liquid, flowing from the glass into the metal, was now only a few centimeters away from you. And Jonathan Crane watched you with no expression of triumph on his face.

Because he had already won.

The hissing sound as the liquid in the glass syringe vibrated into the metal needle was like a warning bell for you. It didn’t echo throughout the room, but it became an internal whisper that buzzed in your ears. This was no longer part of a laboratory experiment, but a chemical revelation ceremony played with your body. And you… You were standing there, facing Crane. Your wrist was exposed. The sleeve of your shirt was slowly rolled up. Your veins were highlighted by the effect of fear. The blue under your skin was now a direct target.

The hard rubber sound of Crane’s hands as he put on his gloves seemed to polish the seriousness of the moment. And then, the brief but infinite second of injection that would prepare you to see from within, not from the surface, would begin.

“Stay calm,” he said in a low voice. “This will only disable the voice that silences you. Everything else… already exists inside you.”

You felt the moment when the metal of the syringe needle touched your skin before it went deeper. First, the coldness. The sudden tightening of nerve endings that knew something was coming. Then a little pressure.

And then…

Introduction.

The moment the needle punctured your vein, your brain registered the moment. The puncture wasn’t sharp, but the wave that followed was…a fire that burned inside you but couldn’t seep out.

Crane slowly pushed the plunger. The fluid in the glass tube was now moving through your veins.

Your vagus system was activated. Your heartbeat slowed for a moment, then sped up. Your breathing became irregular. The fluid was directly touching the communication between your amygdala and your prefrontal cortex. The frontal lobes of your brain, which “censored reality,” began to fail like a membrane that was slowly evaporating. In its place, a more primitive layer was preparing to speak.

The drug’s intravenous spread reached your brain’s limbic system in about 8.3 seconds. And that’s when you realized that your body was no longer yours.

A vibration rose. First in your neck. Then in your shoulder blades. Finally… in the center of your chest.

The bottom of your chest tightened as if someone was pressing from inside. There was not enough air. You didn’t want to breathe because even the air you took in at that moment seemed to be under Crane’s control.

Your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. Your sweat glands activated. Your subcutaneous temperature rose rapidly, while your body warmed up by 0.5 degrees.

But the most dramatic change happened inside. Your mind’s voice fell silent.

Instead, whatever was repressed began to climb upwards with the chemical drive of the liquid. Just as nausea comes not from a thought, but from a physiological drive…

For a moment, an image of the past flashed before your eyes. A failure. A race. A class. Eyes looking at you. That minus sign you received after the exam. That moment when you were told “insufficient”. It opened up in your mind like an unhealed wound. And then, the voice inside you asked: “Does Crane look at me like that?”

No thought was safe for you anymore.

It was all getting ready to come out. And he… was watching you.

When Crane withdrew the syringe, a small drop of blood rose to the surface after the metal had been removed from his skin. He pressed it gently with his fingers, but for the first time the contact was truly personal. Because this time, it wasn’t just the medicine that had seeped into his skin… but also his gaze.

“This is… the first stage,” he said. “Now, not your words… but your instincts will speak.”

Your pupils were dilated, your forehead moist. The insides of your knees were tingling, your body was losing control, but you weren’t falling yet.

Because you were still resisting. But the resistance was no longer just suppressing the medicine, it was suppressing yourself.

The silence of the room had changed to something else now. There was a chemical vibrating in the air; an aura that was invisible but coursing through your veins, an effect that took your thoughts from your hands and delivered them to his fingers.

You sat in your chair, your eyes wide, your lips parted. Your breathing wasn’t smooth, but rather undulating like waves crashing against the shore. Your chest, your shoulders… all seemed to carry a weight that was loaded onto your body. Everything you had suppressed inside you wanted to come out in the uncontrolled movements of your body, but you… were still trying to resist. Confessing… meant everything.

Jonathan Crane was still standing. After dropping the syringe into a medical waste container, he slowly guided his steps towards you. His stance was calm, but this calmness was only apparent from the outside; underneath it was strategy, appetite, lustful attention. His eyes lingered on you; he seemed to take note of your every reaction. But he didn’t want to tear you apart… he wanted to have you by making you unravel yourself.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asked, his voice low but direct. “Not much. Just honestly. Are you afraid?”

Even the question was a trap. Because if you said “no,” you would be lying. And you couldn’t lie. If you said “yes,” you would be accepting the fact that he was controlling you. But you… you were torn. After a few seconds of silence, without lifting your eyes from the table, you whispered:

“A little.”

He smiled. But it wasn’t warm. It was patient, mixed with pleasure. He was starting to figure you out. And now, he had decided to dig deeper.

He moved closer to you. He took a step toward the back of the chair. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was getting closer to you from the thickening air between you. There was a deep silence. Then his voice rose again, from somewhere near the back of your neck. You shivered, your muscles tightening. “So what makes it hard for you to be honest with me? Fear? Morality? Or… something else?”

Your body quivered reflexively at that moment. Because the question wasn’t direct, but the implication was very strong. The words caught in your throat. The word “morality” felt like a needle when it came out of his voice. Was it what had happened between you and him that you were questioning… or was it that you wanted those things?

You swallowed.

“It’s just… weird,” you said with difficulty. “This isn’t normal.”

Jonathan tilted his head a little to the side at that answer. Like a doctor watching a subject’s first reaction. Yet he wasn’t impatient. Because he knew that the magic of confession… lay in its delay. Then, without forcing you at all, he began to speak slowly, in a way that would mentally grip you:

“People worship mediocrity to escape normality. They force themselves into ‘reasonable’ patterns. But inside them… there is a darker, more honest self. Those like you know this very well. Because you… don’t just want to be successful. You want to be distinguished. To be noticed. To know that something that is thought to be untouchable… has been opened up specifically for you. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you don’t stay silent.”

His words were filling the voids inside you. You were trying to resist, but your lips were moist, your fingers were tightly gripping the edge of the table. That liquid running through your veins was now loosening not only the urges, but also the shame.

Then he asked the question. Slowly. Almost in a whisper. “Have you ever thought about me?”

The blood rushed to your face. You felt like even hearing that sentence was tearing you apart. Your shoulders started to sag, as if someone had reached out from inside your heart and pulled away all the walls you had stepped on.

For a moment you couldn’t answer. But then… the word came. Like a rotten whisper.

“Yes…”

Jonathan’s eyes lit up. He didn’t smile. Because this moment wasn’t something to laugh at. This was the moment when the armor that made you who you were cracked for the first time.

And then he took another step. This time he was right next to you. He didn’t put his hand on your shoulder, he didn’t touch your hair. But you could feel his presence… under your skin now.

“When?” he asked. “What moment? What thought?”

You closed your eyes. You wanted to run away. But the words… came.

“The first day of the internship… when you didn’t look into my eyes. You weren’t talking to the other students like you did. I thought about it then. But I didn’t want to. But I thought about it anyway.”

Crane lowered his gaze to you. Just like a patient is put under observation at the first moment of crisis… only this time his interest wasn’t just clinical. He wasn’t solving you anymore.

He was solving you in order to take care of you.

Jonathan Crane accepted your confession with silence. He neither mocked nor showed any surprise. He simply remained silent. But this silence was not an ordinary “I heard”. This was the first time a lock was turned. And he… had now stepped into the room behind that lock.

He took another step. His fingers were slightly tense, but he did not touch. He would not touch yet. Because you had to want him to come closer. Your mind was just getting used to this confusion, and he was slowly untangling you with his patience.

He pulled a chair from the table and sat down next to you. There was a short distance between you, but that distance was now lost in his eyes. His pupils were constricted, scanning you. But this scanning was no longer clinical. It was a preparation for possession.

“You said what you thought of me,” he said softly, “but that is only the beginning. Thoughts… can escape intention. But desires are more honest.”

He was silent for a moment. You heard his breathing. The uncomfortable warmth that his arm leaning on the table had awakened in you was seeping up from under your body. Like a fire that could not reach its depth but made you feel it was approaching.

“When I enter the same room with you… what do you feel? Really. When you see me… how does your body react?”

The question was direct and chilling. This was no longer a ‘test’. This was a transition to another layer of confession. And under the effect of the drug, the filters on your honesty were now dissolving. But this honesty was chaining you instead of freeing you. Because everything you said would mean surrendering to him a little more.

You swallowed. Only one word came out of your lips first: “Restlessness… I feel like there is no limit to what you can do.”

But he waited. He looked at you without blinking. That answer was not enough. Because when you pulled away from his gaze, he could see your heart speed up. Your eyes wandered around the room, as the words were preparing to fall from your chest, the urges that you had not even confessed to your own inner voice began to rise.

“But… also… curiosity. I want to see your limitlessness. I want to stay even when I should be leaving. And that endless unknown makes me feel attracted to you. It’s… disturbing but… addiction, Dr. Crane.”

Crane slowly lowered his head. Like a hunter watching you over his shoulder. Not your words, not your fragile tone… nothing was foreign to him. He didn’t respond as if he already knew you. He watched you patiently, as if he were shaping you right now. And then he asked something even more specific. It was proof that he was moving toward becoming not just a counselor but an object of obsession:

“So… what would you like me to know about you? When you think of me… how would you like to be seen, Y/N?”

The question was like a knife. The answer was something you were waiting for, just to see in his eyes. Maybe “to be noticed.” Maybe “to be liked.” But in that moment, a more primal urge emerged:

“I want you to see my weaknesses… especially my fears,” you said. “But without belittling me. The thought of you not pitying me triggers me…The fantasy of controlling me stimulates my groin.”

Your words caught in your throat. Because this wasn’t just a confession; this was a declaration of your voluntary inclusion in the entire system he had created.

Jonathan was silent for a moment. Then, he leaned in. Very lightly, very slowly. You felt his breath near your cheek. But still, he didn’t kiss. Because the biggest touch between them… was still your voice.

“For you, boundaries are just the outer shell,” he whispered. “I’m not helping you break yourself. You’re already broken. I… am just holding up a mirror to you.”

And what you saw in the mirror… wasn’t just you. It was how he saw you now. And it was something you had never seen before.

Crane’s words didn’t hang in the air. They had descended over you like a heavy veil, slowly descending. You were breathing under that veil now, hazy, uncomfortable, but familiar. Because the deep, clinical softness in his voice… wasn’t a cure, it was a promise of resolution.

Your shoulders had slumped, your jaw had trembled slightly. Your body didn’t feel like your own. It was a place where only his words echoed. And Jonathan Crane was the architect of this place.

Nothing was rushed as he approached you. He slowly raised his hand from the edge of the table, and with a slight bend in his thumb, he reached just below your cheek. His touch was so gentle that at first you weren’t sure if he actually made contact. But then the veins beneath your skin began to pulse at the gentle pressure.

“Has anyone ever looked at you this closely?” he said.

“With all your masks off. Without running away. Without judging. Just… watching you.”

Your eyes turned to him, but you couldn’t look. Because this wasn’t just a look, it was the first step of surrender.

He didn’t take his eyes off you. As if he was memorizing all the subconscious folds inside you by watching your every breath.

His fingertips moved from the edge of your chin to your lips. He didn’t turn your face. He just touched your lower lip with his thumb. But this contact wasn’t affection; it was a form of dominance. Not to caress you, but to see where you were trembling. And you shivered.

A muscle twitched involuntarily on the side of your neck.

Because in his palm was not only the pulse of deep desires but also of repressed desires.

Crane moved his head a little closer to you. When his breath touched your skin this time, your body moved with an internal reflex, but you couldn’t move.

This was the disintegration of a body torn between running away and staying. And he saw it.

He could now read you without the need for medication.

“What do you imagine when you think of me?” he asked, his voice low but poisonously calm. “What do you want me to do with my hands? What did you imagine me doing, Y/N?”

It wasn’t a question, it was a confession. But it had to come from you. It had to be your choice to say it. And so your last remaining boundary would collapse with your hand.

Your throat went dry. Your eyes darkened. But the answer came. In a whisper. The words seemed to come from inside you, not from your lips.

“When I think of you, we’re always in the same place: in a dark room, with only your voice. ‘Be patient,’ you say. There are handcuffs on my wrists… But not just physically… You’ve captured me. You bite me because I want to be yours. With every painful touch, I become more dependent.”

Crane’s face didn’t come closer. He just listened to you.

Because that was the moment you opened up to yourself.

And that surrender… was the greatest victory for him.

“Good,” he finally said. “Because you have now surrendered yourself to me. Not your body, but your mind. Your most fragile part.”

He moved closer to you. His hands were now on either side of your neck, but he was not squeezing you. He was just pressing you with his presence. And you… even as you breathed, you were now following his rhythm.

He looked you straight in the eye with those cold eyes. “Get up,” Jonathan said, his voice echoing through the room. His tone was commanding, yet it also carried a dark allure. You did as he said, obediently. Jonathan stood before you, but it was impossible to understand what he was thinking or doing. And that uncertainty aroused you.

His frequent tapping of the glass syringe on the table against the floor gave him away. He was a control freak, and you wanted to be under his control.

Crane’s gaze changed. The dull calm of his eyes gave way to a sharper determination. He was no longer trying to untie you, but to possess you. For once, the contact was unwavering.

His fingers reached under your chin, tilting your head up slightly. You let out an involuntary sigh as you turned to him, an echo struggling with both uneasiness and surrender.

And then… his thumb pressed the edge of your lower lip. This time harder, like a beckoning gesture.

“I’m here,” he said. “And you’re mine now.”

“You want more, don’t you, Y/N,” he said, his voice as soft as ice. “Because you… you’ve already prepared yourself for this moment.”

He increased the pressure on the corner of his mouth a little more.

The thought that your desire wasn’t yours, but his… made you shiver and pull at the same time. You parted your pale lips slightly, the suppressed fear you carried inside you like a mysterious invitation in the curve of his lips. Jonathan, at that moment, mixed with your breath, as if he were looking for a spiritual contact, not just physical. But he didn’t kiss you. No. He had to drive you crazy first. He leaned down to the side of your neck. His lips didn’t touch your skin. But his breath was directed right at that point that coincided with your pulse. Your whole body was stuck for a moment. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Because movement could be the end of something. But you didn’t want it to end. He first touched your neck with his lips. Where your pulse beat. Your body trembled as if you’d been electrocuted. “Are you scared?” Jonathan asked, his breath touching yours. You nodded slowly. “Yes,” you answered, your voice trembling. Jonathan’s smile widened even more.

He ran his tongue first. It left a chilling dampness on your skin. Then a bite, just like in your dreams. Not enough to hurt you, but arrogant enough to claim it. “Perfect,” he said. “Fear is the strongest emotion. And you will share it with me.” As he felt the speed of your pulse, its irregularity, the pull mixed with fear, he felt like he owned you from the inside. It was as if he had completely taken over your body, like a parasite.

While you continued to feel his tongue, his lips, he moved along your neck. He brushed his lips all the way to your jawbone. From there, he reached your cheeks. But he never fully touched you. He did not let your tongues burn with each other’s wetness. His breath was now touching the spot between your cheek and ear. His fingers started from the tip of your shoulder; He moved down to your breasts, which filled the palm of your hand, over the thin fabric. Then he slowly slid and glided. First, he traced the outline of your waist, the hollow of your spine. Your body was so tense that each touch was not an observation but part of an experiment.

He bent his head ever so slightly. When the tip of his nose touched yours, your body shook. This was not a kiss. This was the first threat of contact. When your lips finally met; this kiss was a trembling and contradictory touch, dancing on the thin line of passion and death. His cold and controlled demeanor frightened you. He had the careful manner of a doctor measuring your body temperature. He measured how your lips were reacting. He pressed lightly, pulled back. He came closer again. This was not pleasure, but the application of the first dose that would create addiction.

His fingers slid to the back of your neck. Your skin shivered. And then the kiss deepened. But you were still not directing him. He lightly ran his tongue between your lips, drawing you in. But the movement of his tongue is deliberate: each curve slowly, almost calculating. Jonathan is not kissing you… he is silencing you. He is stopping all the “Is this true?” echoing in your mind by pressing it against his lip.

His eyes weren’t closed. They were open. He wanted to watch your reactions. There was power and analysis in his eyes, not affection.

When he slid his tongue into your lips, the rough, wet surface of the papillae tickled. The deepening rhythm as your tongues intertwined, as if synchronizing your heartbeats. There was no limit, but the tempo was his.

Even when he pulled away from your lips, the kiss wasn’t over. His gaze flickered to your mouth, then to your eyes. The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck continued.

“Do you realize how easily you give in?” he whispered, his fingers landing on your collarbones. “The serum I made won’t break your resistance. It will only disrupt your lying mechanism, and that comes with fear.”

And before you could respond, he pulled you closer. Slowly, but firmly. Your body touched his chest. His arms didn’t wrap around your back. He just stopped. Crane wasn’t holding you. He was locking you up.

“The void I’ve created inside you,” he said at ear level,

“Only I can fill it. And you belong to me now… in another form.”

Your body took an involuntary breath. As if your tongue had not yet reached the thoughts that were passing through it. But his fingers were now roaming the lower edge of your abdomen, carefully but insistently pushing you toward your limits. As if he were making decisions every millimeter, measuring when the touch would turn into desire, when it would turn into surrender.

One of his hands was now pressing gently on the back of your waist. He had paused there before pulling you closer. You were on the edge. And Crane knew it.

His gaze, as it slid down from top to bottom, showed neither hunger nor complete aloofness. Like a psychological prey, he watched you for when you would give in. His lips moved, but almost whispered:

“I want to see you… not what the world sees when you hide under cotton and fear.” His fingers touched the first button on your shirt. He wanted you to do it. He wanted you to watch him, but he made it clear to you before he did. He unbuttoned the button with a single movement. When he stretched the edges of the fabric to the sides, the curved lines of her breasts were visible.

There was nothing moving in the room at that moment. Only your heart. It was beating so hard that you were sure even Jonathan Crane could hear it. Your eyes were locked on his; but his was fixed, yours was searching. Perhaps you were instinctively looking for an exit. But this was Crane’s mental labyrinth. And now you had reached the last room from which there was no exit.

With trembling hands, you took off your vest and left it on the chair. Jonathan’s gaze roamed over your body, watching your every move. “Now your shirt,” he said, his voice becoming even more authoritative.

You unbuttoned his shirt clumsily. Your fingers were shaking more than usual. You felt the coolness of his skin against your underwear. You caught your breath at first. Then your rhythm quickened. This, the symptoms, occur for two reasons. Either intense desire or… fear.

Jonathan’s eyes rested on your breasts, but his expression remained blank. “Go on,” he said, as if this was just an experiment.

You prayed that your knees wouldn’t betray you as he took off your skirt. That shiver was always running up your spine. But also in your groin.

You were left in nothing but your underwear. The texture of the lace against your skin was almost whisper-light; delicate shades of purple and gray quivered like diamonds against your skin. The bra that hugged your breasts was more than just a piece of fabric, it was an intention. A clever trap between covering and exposing. The lace patterns traced thin paths across your skin, each one as clear as a line your fingers would want to cross, yet still forbidden.

Your panties were seductive with a simplicity that words failed to describe; the almost invisible thin bands dug into the bony line of your hips, the front generous enough to cover only the most intimate secrets. It was like a sensual oath, inviting you to imagine before touching.

Jonathan’s gaze traveled down your body, taking in every detail. “Very beautiful,” he said, but his voice was devoid of praise. “But tonight, your beauty does not concern me. Only your obedience.”

But you could no longer make eye contact with him. Your breathing quickens, but you can’t get enough air into your lungs. There’s a tension in the center of your chest, like your heart is stuck and hasn’t yet convinced itself to beat. Like when you’re scared.

“Look at me,” he says. His voice is controlled and measured. But you can’t look at him. When he does, eye contact is like a slap.

“You’re resisting eye contact… classic displacement behavior under chemically induced anxiety. That means it’s working.”

The serum.

Yes, the fluid Jonathan had injected into your vein for a special “test.” He hadn’t told you about his fear symptoms.

You heard his footsteps. He was approaching. You had pressed yourself against the window sill as if you could run away, but you didn’t realize it. The room wasn’t big. And you had nowhere to run now.

Jonathan stopped right in front of you. You were still looking away.

“Look at me,” he says again. There’s no anger in his voice. But there’s something there that defies argument. Like a scientist trying to keep a subject in line when they’re running away from him. With your eyes still on the floor, he took another step.

“Oh yes, you feel it, don’t you?”

The serum’s effects increased. The hormones of fear—adrenaline, norepinephrine, cortisol—danced through your blood. His hands were shaking, his knees felt weak. But he knew it, he was watching it, and he was aroused by it.

Jonathan held your chin in his fingers as you continued to look away. Not forcibly, but with an obsessive patience. He turned your face toward his.

His lips almost touched yours again. “No. You can’t look away. Not from me.”

“Fascinating,” he said when your eyes finally met his. His thumb slid to the corner of your mouth, barely touching your skin. You wanted to run away, and at the same time, you wanted to sink to your knees.

Jonathan Crane looked at you like someone analyzing you. “You’re shaking… but you’re not trying to.”

“Do you know what that means?”

You couldn’t answer. But what was going through you was neither fear nor desire. You were on a sharp, slippery line drawn between the two.

Your chin was still in his fingers. Even if you turned your head to the side, he wouldn’t let you. The pressure he applied was light but absolute.

When you tried to escape with your eyes, his gaze would bore into yours again. Looking at you was like penetrating you. And it was exactly what he wanted you to not be able to escape.

“That’s it… breathe. Let it take you.”

Let “it” take you. What? The serum? Fear? Or… it?

Crane leaned his head down a little more. His forehead was so close to yours.

"Your pupils dilated... your skin flushed... your hands trembled. Fear reached its peak. Now let's see what happens next."

He moved a little closer to you. His breath was just above your lips. But he didn't kiss you this time.

His hand slowly moved down from your chin to your neck. He stopped there. He felt your pulse with his fingertips. Much more noticeable now.

You were still shivering. But... But that touch wasn't just fear anymore. It was warmth. A desire. A mixed, dirty pulling feeling.

When he kissed your lips again, this time he was harder. He wanted fear to cascade, to merge with lust. When he pulled his lips back and looked into your eyes, he saw your pupils dilate. His cock was getting hard with this sight. And after that kiss came another one. A little more pressing, a little more burning with desire to possess.

His fingers wrapped around your neck a little tighter in the beat.

Then he put his hands on your bare waist. He squeezed you between the wall and his body. As if to remind you that he owned you.

His voice mixed with your breaths. "You can still stop this. But you won't."

Because you couldn't stop. The serum continued to flow through your veins. But now his voice, his touch, his closeness to your skin... More effective than the serum.

The wetness he left on your lips shone in the dim light, like raw meat.

Suddenly, he grabbed your hair from behind. Not hard, but determined. His fingers got into your hair, gripping it near the nape of your neck. Your head fell back suddenly, your neck tensed, your breath hitched. His breath licked your skin as he spoke.

"You're scared like prey... and I've never seen anything so perfect," he said through his teeth.

His fingers pressed against your hair roots, steadying you.

Your skin was burning. Your heart was beating like it had lost control. His other hand found the edge of your panties. And he entered between your skin and the fabric like an invader, finding the outer lips of your vulva.

It was wet... Dr. Crane’s fingers were wet enough to make them soggy. His middle and ring fingers were wet enough to slide easily into her slit.

A slick sound filled your ear as he stroked your inner lips in a circular motion.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled wryly, “Oh, my… you’re soaked,” he said, while continuing to tease your clitoris and vaginal opening. “So tell me, what exactly are you afraid of? Of me, or of the fact that I scare you and you enjoy it?” he whispered. When he reached your clitoris and stopped there, he squeezed the bud with two fingers. Even the slightest pressure inevitably stimulated the dilated capillaries inside. Your sensitivity increased to the point that your temple twitched with each stroke.

As he continued to crush your clitoris between his fingers, you felt the pain. Your chest heaved, you sighed, your mouth slightly parted. This was more than it should have been. Pain triggers your fear, Dr. He made you see Crane as a threat—and you should have. You wanted to run away. But the pleasure in the pain was so sweet, so tempting. Lust and pain balanced each other. Your mind was giving warning signals… your body was writhing in surrender.

“Ah. You weren’t expecting this, were you?” he said, his index and ring fingers stretching your outer lips. “That your fear would make you… suffer for me,” he said, his middle finger brushing along your vulva. It stopped at the entrance to your sensitive vagina, applying pressure.

You were so out of control that your breathing quickened. Your muscles tensed, you held onto the arms of the man you feared, your fingers trembling. The man who was bringing you to orgasm locked eyes with you, both godlike and beastlike. And he stared into your eyes, impassive, emotionless, and grabbed the fabric beneath him, pulling it taut. The sound of the fabric tearing didn’t fill the room, but your ears did. His dominant movements, his dull gaze, his desire to possess reminded you of death. You wanted to escape from him. To escape without looking back and to lock yourself somewhere he couldn't find you.

The wall behind you was no longer just a physical boundary. As alive as your own skin. Cold. Hard.

But he was more honest than you. Because you still thought you could escape. His presence was as close as a sentence. As heavy as a look. And you had already accepted that you couldn't escape, but you wouldn't admit it to yourself.

Jonathan threw the torn fabric in his hand to the ground and stepped back toward his desk, as if he expected you to follow him. Your inner thighs were wet as you took a step. Your arousal was flowing through your legs in a colorless, slippery liquid. It was the arousal of fear, the orgasm of death.

You stood in front of him. “Now,” he said, “you will bend over for me.” He raised one hand and pointed to the table. The files were scattered on top of it.

Your fingertips were trembling slightly. Your breath was now uncontrollably ragged. Your body wanted to get closer to a man you saw as a devil.

The moment you realized this, the inner scream began.

Your mind was screaming, “No.”

But your skin… that fire that stretched from your spine to your womanhood, knew that you were nothing but Crane’s shadow.

You turned back to the desk, your hands fixed on a place where there were no papers, your head bowed. He was right behind you, and that feeling was more dangerous than making eye contact with him. Because he was watching you. And him continuing to watch without doing anything, not taking you even though he had untied you… would leave you even more naked. Because then you would not only carry the desire, but also the shame of rejection.

When Jonathan’s hand touched your hair, your muscles clenched. His fingers tightened around the strands. He leaned your head back against his shoulder, his lips tingling your ears. “You flinch when I touch you… but your body calls me back like a prayer,” he said, his voice threatening. “Isn’t it beautiful? Your terror is what makes you… irresistibly wet.”

Jonathan’s face cracked into a smile, but it was dark. “You don’t belong in the outside world anymore,” he said, unclasping your bra. “You belong here. In this room. "Under my control," he continued. After your bra was removed, you were now as naked as your soul. Your warm body tensed when his cold hands cupped your breasts from behind. Your areolas were hard, your nipples were erect, and you felt the coldness of his fingers very sensitively. But that wasn't all you felt. His cock pressing against your hips was straining the fabric, twitching to fill your tight vagina.

He cupped your left breast and squeezed it hard. He crushed your right nipple between his fingers, just like he had done to your clitoris a moment ago. He leaned down to your ear and rubbed his tongue around it. All the way around, as if he were setting a boundary around your ear.

You, on the other hand, frowned in fear and began to moan with desire. The husky sound coming from your throat was lustful and shy at the same time.

"You're ashamed of how much you want this, aren't you, Y/N?" Jonathan said, sliding his hand from your left breast down to your belly. "But this shame... making you tighter. Wetter. Needier." His fingers were making a figure 8 at his groin now. "Don't hide it. Let it devour you. I want to see everything about you."

All of this, while the serum in your veins was still stimulating your amygdala, was getting darker and scarier. "No." came out of your lips. "No" had many meanings for you. But most of all, it was because you couldn't accept that the doctor you thought was more terrifying than your nightmares wanted to fuck you. Yet, he had been in your dreams ever since you saw him. Ever since you saw him, you wanted him to fill you with his sperm on the gurney in his lab. But the serum made everything complicated.

Jonathan pressed his hand on your back. His fingertips were strong enough to leave white marks on your skin. You bowed in lustful fear. First a little, then a little more... But it wasn't enough for Dr. Crane. He wanted you to press your face against the table.

You turned your head to the right. When your left cheek touched the file, the first thing you noticed was the cold. It was as if all the light in the room had been drained from the walls; only his silhouette remained. Your eyes were on the metal cabinet, but your mind was on him.

Your breaths were short, broken. You wanted to slowly push yourself up, but… When the warmth of his hand pressed against the center of your back, something inside you unraveled.

You were in the exact position he wanted. "I've been dreaming of this exact position since you were leaning over my bookshelf last semester," he said, his hand still on your back, applying pressure. It restricted your movement, shouting that the will was in his hands. "I almost touched you then. But I waited. Because now... now you'll remember this for the rest of your life."

And his free hand went to his tie.

You didn't see him. But you heard his movements. The slight rustle of the fabric of his tie. Time suddenly slowed down. As if every second was diminishing one more defense inside you. And you were no longer sure what was more troubling: his hand holding you or the fact that he hadn't done anything yet.

His removal of the tie was slow and precise. As if he'd done it a hundred times. But this time, not to loosen your shirt, but to steady you. His eyes never left yours as his fingers released the fabric that had come loose from his collar with a single tug. He took his time. Because he knew that fear thrived best in waiting.

And you... were motionless.

Your lungs were rising and falling rapidly in a narrow space.

Your hands were shaking, but your body couldn't move. Your head was crowded: "He chose you long ago. You always knew that."

The tie was now in Jonathan’s hands, and even before it touched your skin, you felt him tie you up. Your body froze, but your thoughts were screaming, “He won’t do it now. He’s just scaring you. It’s just a game…”

“Put your hands behind your back,” he said. His voice was low but unarguable. Just that sentence sent an icy shiver down your spine. You didn’t move. But he didn’t wait. He gently but firmly guided your wrists back. His fingertips were cold; like a doctor’s gloved hands.

He noticed you were trembling. But he didn’t say anything. As the fabric of the tie wrapped around your wrists, your heart began to race like a false alarm. But no one would wake up from that alarm. Because you were the only one in the room. And he was listening to your fear.

When the fabric was knotted, your hands were now tied behind your back. Your shoulders were tense. And he studied you like a painting. His gaze was not cold, but dark. Not satiated, still hungry.

The sound of the belt reached your ears. You knew it was your turn, but your heart was pounding with fear, and the colorless liquid flowing down your legs was thickening.

The hard, heavy click of his metal buckle echoed in the silence of the room, brief but firm. Every moment you didn’t see, your ears grew stronger with your imagination.

Then, that dry scraping sound of skin being pulled across fabric… As the buckle was released, the belt flexed like a spring at the end, then relaxed and dropped.

The sound of the zipper was more delicate. It cut through the air like a thin, continuous scratch.

The weight of his pants yielded on its own as the waistband came undone. The thick fabric made a gentle scrape as it slid down his legs; a brief stiffness at the knees, and then a muffled, rolling sound as his weight dropped to the floor.

He wore only a pair of skinny, smoky-gray boxers underneath. The fabric was neither new nor worn; it was simply “used.” He grabbed the faded seams and pulled them down. His hardened penis arched slightly as it was released from the elastic at the waist.

Jonathan was straining at the entrance to her vagina. He first took hold of his penis with his hand and flicked it toward her clitoris. A warning shot through your spine, clenching your fists. But the fabric around your wrists was straining and hurting. You sighed through your teeth.

Then he stroked your vulva a few times. He reached down from your clitoris to the entrance of your vagina, and pushed a few inches inside, but never in. It was driving you crazy. “Oh, please, Dr. Crane!” you moaned. “Please,” he begged. Like prey begging the hunter.

Jonathan was even more aroused by your words. “Should we put that in your internship report?” he asked, almost rasping. “‘Subject: Dr. Crane applied full pressure; subject responded with incoherent moans and demanded more.’” Dr. Crane could no longer catch his breath. “Let’s call it… behavioral data.”

You were aroused by these words. Both terrified and lustful. Triggered by the corrupt desire he had for you. His pursuit of you, his insatiable obsession with you, was enticing. “You scare me, Doctor…” you moaned. You paused but never stopped. “…but I don’t know why I still desire you so much.” The words came out in gasps, “I want you to fuck me, in all your sick fantasies.”

Jonathan wheezed breathlessly, “Do you really need someone to dominate you, Y/N? And someone to bring you to your knees with nothing but their eyes.”

You groaned breathlessly, “No… not someone.

Just you and your twisted mind.” You looked so eager. So needy.

When Jonathan pushed his cock into your vagina, it enveloped you completely. It wasn’t very long, but it was thick. Too thick for you. Too tight for him. He threw his head back in pleasure as the rough, warm walls of his vagina wrapped around Jonathan’s manhood. “Oh, Y/N, every breath belongs to me. Every tremor you make is my victory.”

His cock was surrounded by the knots of your warm vaginal walls. This rough structure allowed him to feel you deeper. Jonathan was losing himself in the pleasure you were giving him, moaning. Every time he pushed his big cock inside you, his swollen balls slapped your ass, stimulating both your ‘g’ spot and your clitoris, making you almost cry. And you couldn’t react at all. He had you completely trapped in his body.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jonathan asked as he fucked you like an animal. “Tell me you want me, Y/N, tell me you want to be trapped in my darkness.”

You were out of breath. With the intensity of the terrifying pleasure you were experiencing, the whites of your eyes were exposed, and your moans were getting louder and echoing in Jonathan's ears. "Oh, Dr. Crane, this is beyond my dreams."

Your flesh was slapping against each other with each impact as he rooted into your tight hole. And he continued to thrust rhythmically. "It's wonderful to feel you from the inside." he said.

You were both about to reach the peaks of pleasure. Your tight vagina felt Crane's hardness and veined surface down to the smallest cell. His penis was wrapped around your knotted walls, twitching.

You were now at the height of your orgasm. Even though his penis filled your vagina completely, the juices of pleasure continued to leak from the exit of your vagina. You were so wet that a slurry sound echoed with each thrust.

Jonathan leaned over you and put his lips to your ear. Now you could taste his moans, his short breath, the warmth of his breath just behind your ear. He bit your earlobe. It was painful, but the tip of his tongue was taking the pain to a stimulating level. "My poor obsession, just be patient a little longer. It's almost here."

The table was shaking. The creaking echoed off the walls of the room as the table legs rubbed against the floor. The muscles in his hips were now clenched, and he was about to spill his sperm onto your womanhood. But he held himself back to witness the moment his sperm slid across your skin, and he pulled out of you suddenly and came breathlessly onto your hips. As his sperm spread over your warm skin, you came right after. Your juices of pleasure had soaked the office floor, and the rest had seeped down your legs and dripped down to your ankles.

The effects of the serum had completely worn off, and you were left alone with only your interest and desire for Jonathan Crane. Your ears were buzzing, your eyes were blurry with pleasure. You were on cloud nine, realizing you had never had an orgasm before. You had never had real sex. And what you wanted was exactly what Jonathan Crane wanted.

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thatnonameuser · 9 months ago

Text

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

Intro, Part 1,Part 3 here Tagging for the first time @blue-rae18 Minors DNI Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Rape and Non-con but it's a subtle.

You'd bitten your tongue bloody all the way through Crewel's opening lecture. There were so many questions. So many sick and twisted answers.

One class filled you with so much dread

A class about kidnapping, murder and brainwashing some poor innocent soul into Stockholm Syndrome. All shoved underneath the the guise of true love.

A 'darling', the name for someone who was the object of a yandere's unwanted affection. An innocent who spend the rest of their lives living in fear, while someone smothers and controls them with their obsessive love against their will.

And this is all being taught and treated as a normal.

As if it's fine to take someone hostage because you love them.

As if it's fine to kill someone they love if you love them more.

As if it's fine to do unspeakable acts to them and their bodies against their will.

With how much nausea and bile coursing through your stomach and throat it was a miracle you didn't throw in the middle of the lecture.

But that's not what scared you.

What scared you was how bored Ace was as Crewel spoke, how enraptured Deuce looked as he heard about this. How curious some of the other students were about the methods they could use to steal innocent people from their homes, families and lives. How excited some were hearing about some of the ways they would learn about the ways they would use to break the desire for freedom in their future 'partners'.

It was terrifying.

That your friends would kill for someone they love.

Would they kill you?

You don't want to think about that right now. Right now, you needed answers. Fast.

"Crowley! Crowley I need to talk to you!" You shout as you storm in Crowley's office. As soon as the lecture ended you got the hell out of dodge and headed straight to Crowley's office, ready to demand answers.

The door opens to reveal a smiling Crowley, but that doesn't soothe your nerves. "Ah! My dear, what has your feathers ruffled?"

You swallow roughly, "Crowley.......Why didn't you tell me about the fact that I could be........legally murdered here?!"

He tilts his head, "Oh. That must've slipped my mind." You look at him, bewildered.

"I could-" Crowley interrupts you.

"Fear not though. As I am gracious, I already have ensured that will not happen!"

You want to feel relief but you can't, instead suspicion fills you.

"H-How?" According to Crewel's lecture only one crime wasn't pardoned. Darling Murder, and you weren't a darling. You got here on accident and you're not apart of this world so there's no way-

"Crewel was kind enough to inform me of your reaction to his lecture, and I've seen you this past week, how you've tamed your fiery little familiar so quickly." The smile he makes while he speaks fills you with fear, "Only darlings act the way you do~"

"What?"

"As a result, I've had you registered as Darling on and off this island. No one will raise a hand against you." He pauses, "At least not enough to kill you," he laughs at that.

"B-but I'm not from here! What if someone tries to kidnap me, or drug me, or....anything else!? I have a family, friends, and a life back in my home world!" You reason, but Crowley just laughs.

"Ah, the usual darling spiel~ Fear not, I will continue to find a way for you to return home." You feel a sigh of relief bubble into your throat, but before you can release it, what Crowley says next makes your blood freeze.

"But if someone takes you as their own, I cannot and will not try to intervene."

"What!? B-but-"

"I'm afraid after someone stakes their claim, a duel must be done to relinquish that claim to another. You must understand, it would be such a hassle to do every time someone stakes their claim."

"W-wait a second-"

"Of course, I'll leave a way for you to return to your world, but whether you're allowed to leave is another story. You must understand."

"I-I didn't ask to be here, Crowley, you c-can't just-"

"My dear, perhaps the reason the carriage came for you in the first place was for you to belong to another here. Regardless of how you feel about it, my and your hands are tied."

"B-But-"

"Oh, and I should give you fair warning. Many of our students are well aware on the traits a darling like you tend to have. Some may already have their eye on you. Your little friends Ace and Deuce seem to."

You're stunned silent. Ace and Deuce might be, what?

"Y-You're lying...." you whisper.

"I'm afraid not, but as I am gracious I'll inform the ghosts in Ramshackle to keep an eye out for you. They seem to have taken a shine onto you." Why because, you lived with them or because they're obsessed with you too?

What's wrong with this world?

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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jimblejamblewritings · 3 months ago

Text

Pet Soldier | 3

Summary: Bucky's past catches up to him, unlocking painful memories of his time as the winter soldier. The only thing that could make it worse was having to be on a team with a captured HYDRA soldier he wants to see dead. But her healing power is simply too invaluable to let go.

THIS IS A DARK FIC!

Warnings for the Series: 18+ only. Heavy Angst (eventual hurt comfort). Violence. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con and Dub-Con. Psychological Trauma. Not Canon Compliant. Manipulation. Hydra.

Important Warnings for this Part: trauma, torture, manipulation

Pairing: eventual Stucky x reader, Stucky x hydra!reader, Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist coming soon

“I believe it would be best if L/N was moved from Avengers Tower.”

Those were the first words out of Steve’s mouth. He was trying and failing to get out more before the protests started. Not only had he scheduled an emergency meeting before anyone got a chance to eat but now he wanted to just let you roam free unsupervised? Outside of the tower.

“Enough! As the captain, I am choosing to make an executive decision.”

“This is bullshit and you know it, Steve. She can’t be trusted.”

Bucky called for Dr. Myers. His knee bounced up and down the entire time as he waited for the therapist to arrive on their floor, ignoring the arguments coming from the rest of the Avengers. Every so often, his eyes flitted over to you. Nothing in your body language or facial expressions was readable. Bucky finally sighed in relief once his therapist arrived.

“Let’s just let the doc decide if this move is best for everyone mentally,” Bucky spoke slowly. “FRIDAY, starting from two months ago, anywhere from one in the morning to around three, please find any time when I entered L/N’s room.”

That shut the team up. No one could figure out why he would have been in your room but they knew it probably wasn’t good. However, they all expected the problem to be you. Bucky swallowed thickly as the video played. You weren’t the monster. He was. That was the only real thought going through his head. It didn’t matter if it was the winter soldier, not at that moment.

Tony clamped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed and head shaking as the video showed Bucky choking you to a point of concernment. The winter soldier’s nightmares were nothing new to the team. But there was always a sort of blank stare in his eyes. An obvious sign that Bucky wasn’t present with anymore.

The soldier on the video in front of them was far more expressive than any nightmare before. There was a concentrated darkness to his gaze and sadistic enjoyment in his smile. Like he wanted you to feel this pain. And that scared everyone.

“Barnes, what did you do?” Natasha struggled to even look at him. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing HYDRA hasn’t programmed him to do,” you answered for him, startling everyone that you seemed to be defending him. “The Asset’s rampages have never been easy. HYDRA found an outlet to subdue and satisfy those rampages with minimal violence and eventually no casualties.”

“They let him rape you?” Sam asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the now still image on the screen.

“Why do you sound so surprised? I thought you all go on and on about how HYDRA are the bad guys.”

“But to allow him to do that to his own handler?” Natasha folded her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t seem within their nature and a good way for them to lose control of their asset.”

You didn’t have a good response so you chose to stay silent, hoping your face didn’t accidentally crack from the relatively bored expression you had been sporting since entering the room. It wasn’t exactly a shocker to you that the Avengers would be horrified by HYDRA practices. But you were a bit surprised to see that their expressions were showing actual concern for you. Someone they believed was a handler and higher-up in that horrid organization.

Wanda’s gasp drew everyone’s attention. Her eyes never left you, making you squirm in your seat. If anyone was going to recognize the change in your microexpressions, you had expected it to be Natasha or Bucky. You went stiff at the sudden remembrance that the woman still staring at you could read minds.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered.

He was almost taken aback by the lack of authority in your voice. It was a tone they weren’t used to hearing from you. A tone of near defeat. Steve was conflicted. You had just been through possibly the worst thing he has ever personally witnessed and he didn’t want to push it. But if it helped your or Bucky then he kind of really needed to know. He looked at Wanda, knowing she was reading his mind. She gave him the most miniscule nod before speaking in a very sweet tone.

“Whatever you’re afraid of everyone knowing, we can help. You have no need to be scared.”

You scoffed. “I’m not afraid of him or any of you. I do not want to be held responsible for breaking Sergeant Barnes.”

“I think it’s a bit too late for that,” Tony said, finally finding his voice. “We’ve seen enough HYDRA footage to reach that decision of our own. But if it makes you feel better then Manchurian Candidate never has to know what you tell us. You can talk to just Wanda or Nick or whoever. The only person you can’t avoid knowing is the leader of this team who is, unfortunately, Capsicle. But he won’t tell Barnes, will he?”

Steve nodded with the utmost seriousness. “I promise.”

It was like your entire body shut down. When did they see any footage from the facility? How could they be treating you the way they had if they had seen anything? You had made your peace with your past and how it would blend into this new present but that was when you were operating under a different level of assumptions. Carefully, Nick and Maria inched their fingers towards their holsters as they watched your face scrunch up in anger. Frantically, you scrambled for the dog tags hidden under your clothes.

“So, has it been you this entire time then? Even those times you terrorized me at night?” you spat at Bucky with more vitriol and emotion than the entire team had seen before. “I spent hours rationalizing it was him and not you. Those nightmares might have been one thing but I thought even your real mind was too damaged by HYDRA for you to remember the truth. Yet, you’re saying it’s you? You’ve seen the records and you chose to treat me like this? Not the Asset. Not Soldat. Not even Sergeant Barnes. You, James Buchanan Barnes? Fuck you, Bucky.”

You threw the dog tags at his face before storming back to the resident area of the tower, choosing the stairs so no one could try to intercept you on the elevator. For once, you didn’t give a shit how many times FRIDAY alerted Tony that you were on the stairs of some levels you weren’t authorized to be on yet. You didn’t stop walking until you reached the residential area again, ending up on the balcony to try and calm yourself with the fresh air.

The Avengers sat in the meeting room confused. No one had ever seen that much emotion from you before. But they couldn’t figure out what had upset you, especially if you weren’t upset about the winter soldier’s nightmares. Almost afraid, Bucky grabbed the jewelry you threw at him. It slipped from his fingers instantly and landed on the table with a sharp clanking that pierced his ears.

“What is it?” Sam reached for the metal his friend now refused to touch. Two wedding rings and a small engagement ring flanked either side of the two dog tags. Sam flipped the flat pieces of metal over. “James B. Barnes. Y/N M/I L/N… What the actual fuck is going on?”

“Bring me Zemo,” Bucky said, darkly.

Despite being in handcuffs, the man’s face held a smirk that didn’t break even when Sharon harshly forced him into the empty chair. A growl nearly ripped through Bucky’s throat when Zemo started clapping.

“I take it you finally figured it out, Sergeant Barnes. I admit, you took much longer than I thought. I suppose they fried your brain even more than I believed.”

“Why?”

“I told you already. I don’t care for super soldiers, righteous or otherwise. I might hate supposed superheroes even more. Y/N happened to have helped keep one alive all these years when she should have just let you die. Don’t get me wrong, she might be the only person with powers I like, dare I say maybe care for. But small sacrifices must be made.”

“You knew we’d eventually figure it out,” Steve muttered.

“I had hoped for the winter soldier’s mind to be more fractured beforehand… There’s still time.”

Natasha was seconds away from wanting to kill Zemo right where he sat. They had isolated you for months over what was looking more like a lie by the second. She had slapped you clear across the face on her first day of meeting you.

“What did you do with the real footage?”

“Flitted through whatever pieces I found could fit a narrative, hid the parts that didn’t fit, only focused on one angle of the cctv. It wasn’t that difficult to get you all to fa—”

“Where’s the real footage?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly bring it all with me when I was arrested.”

“Do you have the real footage of what you showed us?”

Nick slammed Zemo’s head into the table when he refused to answer. Trying to ignore the blood running from his nose, Zemo eventually relented. The director called in for another SHIELD agent while Tony intently watched Zemo to make sure he wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on them again as he recovered the footage.

“Get a team back to the Siberian facility. Scour it for footage. It’s solely a recovery job. Get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fury turned back to the team. “Are we ready?”

Tony watched the screen flicker for a moment before nodding. “FRIDAY has run all the footage we currently have through her system. Just press play on the remote.”

Despite the fact that they were ready, they hesitated to actually start. What if more of the footage resembled Bucky’s winter soldier nightmares? That wasn’t something they were eager to relive again, let alone so soon. With a roll of his eyes, Zemo pressed the play button. The team stared at a scene that seemed so familiar already, hesitant at what new information they might be gathering.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you said as you walked past Bucky’s shower stall.

Instead of staying on you, a second cctv video started to play alongside what they had seen from the original video.

Bucky wasn’t stoic at all. His body didn’t move but a smile graced his face.

“Are you just going to stand there the entire time and watch me like a creep?”

“If I want to admire you, soldier, I can.” Your voice was light and jovial.

“Well, doctor, if you’re going to keep staring at me, can you at least check for injuries?”

“Does something hurt?” There was a hint of serious inquiry in your tone.

Bucky turned ever so slightly, smirk still plastered on his face. “My last mission was really hard. I think I still might be affected by how hard it was.”

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy line but began shrugging off your lab coat anyway. “Well, a doctor’s touch should heal you right up.”

“I was hoping you might say that, doc.”

In the meeting room, everyone was slowly turning a shade of red or feeling warmth heat up their faces. Bucky tried to look everywhere else but the screen. However, he kept locking eyes with various teammates and resolved himself to just stare at his tea instead. Tony stopped fixing his cup of shitty breakroom coffee, whipping around to face the screen.

“Hold on, were you two actually fucking roleplaying? That’s what that was?”

“It would appear so.” Bucky felt his ears go hot when a familiar part of the audio returned.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Sarge. Maybe they should send you on more of these hard missions so I can come see you. I didn’t know you were so well endowed.”

This time, Bucky wanted to leave the room for an entirely different set of reasons. He never thought there would be a day where his bedroom fantasies were broadcasted past Wanda accidentally reading his mind at inopportune moments. He almost wished it had been one of those times. At least he and Steve weren’t into this embarrassing roleplay that everyone was witnessing right now.

“I’m sorry to have met your acquaintance only recently, doc,” Bucky said through a moan. “Rest assured, I’ll keep coming to your office after all my hard missions now that we’ve met.”

“I’d like that… I missed you, James.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart. But if you keep touching me like this, I’m not gonna last long enough to return the favor.”

“I thought you’d be tired. You just got back.”

Bucky finally turned around, stopping centimeters from your lips. “I’m never tired when it comes to you, only bright spot in this shitty little nazi den.”

You gasped. “Buck! What if someone hears you? They’ll wipe you again.”

“Wipe me for what… it happened again, didn’t it?”

You nodded, thumbs caressing his face. He shuddered underneath you before sighing.

“I guess it won’t be long before they send me to the machine. I’m sorry if I forget you for a few days like last time.”

“As long as you come back to me safe. Relatively safe,” you amended when he gave you a look.

Bucky smiled. “Well, if I don’t have too long before another trip to the frying pan… Think it’s time to start seeing if this hunk of metal can bring you some pleasure. You’d like that?”

Tony cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat back down with a now prepared cup of coffee. “Well, I’m glad you two found some levity. No matter how much I wish to scrub my memory of this foreplay.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Bucky muttered, cringing as he heard himself asking you to finish all over his fingers. “FRIDAY, we can go ahead and skip the rest of this one. I don’t think we’ll find anything else of importance.”

“Certainly, Sergeant Barnes. However, there is probably one more bit that might be of some significance.”

Reluctantly, Bucky told the system to keep playing the video if it really was super important but to skip as much of the intimacy as she could.

Bucky smiled as you both got redressed, watching you intently. You pulled your necklace you had taken off to shower with him from your lab coat pocket. Tilting it ever so slightly, you let the rings slip off the necklace along with one of the three dog tags. Bucky plucked one of the plain rings from your hand with grace, smiling as he put it on his right hand.

“Thanks for keeping it safe for me, doll.”

“I always will.”

Bucky pulled you to his chest, giving you another kiss before you both left the showers. The two of you walked towards the garages hand in hand. With a suaveness that hadn’t been seen since he was in the 40s, Bucky held open the car door for you.

“Hate that I had to take a shower outside my own home,” Bucky said as he reversed out of his parking spot. “Sorry you had to drive down here, sweetheart.”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind. As long as it stops you from tracking blood through the house.”

“I would have cleaned it up, promise.”

The drive was only a few minutes but you and Bucky made those minutes stretch, including the time it took the elevator to reach the floor with your apartment on it. Giggles couldn’t stop pouring from your mouth when you were lifted off of your feet and carried bridal style out of the elevator. Bucky wouldn’t listen to your laughter filled requests to put you down. He opened the door with one hand, shutting it with his foot once you were both safe inside.

“What would you like to do tonight?” you asked him, accepting that he wasn’t going to set you down until he was ready.

“Well, I would love to ravish my beautiful wife until the sun comes up but I don’t think she’d let me.”

“You got that right, Sergeant. But maybe I’ll consider a few hours. After dinner, of course.”

“Then I’ll go heat up some of that chicken noodle soup we made a few days ago. And can I request that you, Mrs. Barnes, go put on your favorite lingerie and one of my button downs? I’ve been dreaming about that for a few days now.”

“I think I can make that happen, Mr. Barnes. I might even throw on one of your favorites.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Bucky wanted the ground to swallow him whole. No one had anything to say. Wanda kept rewinding the last few minutes, hearing those few sentences repeated over and over again. Bucky squeezed the necklace that had been resting in his hand since they brought Zemo up to the meeting room.

“FRIDAY, please just play the next one,” he whispered. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from leaving to go find you.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked, making Bucky look over at him. “Sergeant Barnes, you were very different as the winter soldier. Even with Y/N.”

“Just play the damn thing.”

You were kneeling outside on the balcony in nothing but a thin lingerie dress. The rain beat down on your shivering skin. It was like you were afraid to look up from where you hugged your own body to keep warm. The sound of heavy footsteps reached your ears.

“Can I please come back inside? Please, Buc—Soldier?”

He didn’t answer you, not that he could with the mask still on the lower half of his face. But the man made no moves to remove it.

Bucky felt his heart shatter, bile rising in his throat, as you kept trying to apologize for whatever you did wrong while the winter soldier simply ignored you. Steve took large, slow nods.

“That’s why she didn’t want to get off the quinjet.”

“It’s your favorite way to punish her,” Zemo said as he sat back with a satisfied smile. “I noticed that throughout the tapes. The soldier always went back to this one. The rain or snowfall, minimal to no clothing, out there until you let her back in. Sometimes you weren’t even watching her, just left her out there.”

“Stop,” Bucky murmured weakly, eyes never leaving the screen.

“You always chose to have her just on the brink of collapse. I suppose that makes the threat more real. You know, if you were feeling extra cruel, you would put her straight in the shower after being out there. Hot water. Never hot enough to burn but it certainly must have felt like it, especially after the snow.”

“Just stop!”

Your self-soothing was rather loud. Roughly, you kept wiping at your eyes to try and stop the tears while telling yourself to breathe and calm down.

“It’s not Bucky,” you whispered. “It’s not Bucky. You’re fine… you’re fine, Y/N. It’s not Bucky so he can’t be talked to like him.”

With stiff joints, you moved yourself to sit against the balcony guardrails.

“It’s getting rusty.”

The soldier looked down at his metal arm before returning his gaze to you.

“If I have to replace it, you will get another punishment…” You sighed as Bucky simply ran a finger over all the metal plates, another plea falling on deaf ears. “They can’t have you performing in the field in a compromised manner. They’ve said this to you multiple times now. Let’s go inside and I’ll work on you instead of Karpov.”

Bucky sniffled at the added context. He watched the soldier nod and finally hold open the door for you. The rest of the video didn’t matter to the brunette. He didn’t need to see it to figure out how the context changed. You weren’t requesting time in cryo because you were sick of the soldier.

You were scared and needed your own recovery time. Because of something he did to you. It was all he could think about. Bucky almost didn’t register the videos were over until he heard Nick tell Maria to make a phone call to Ross and Steve question something.

“But if she stays here… what if Buck’s nightmares make him hurt her again?” Steve argued.

“Now that we have gotten some glimpses of the truth, I believe the soldier’s anger towards what he perceived was Miss L/N will be mitigated or gone entirely. FRIDAY monitoring Mr. Barnes’ whereabouts could give peace of mind. But I believe moving her could do more harm,” Dr. Myers said.

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

The doctor started packing up the new file he created for you. “Be gentle with Y/N. That’s about the best we can do until further examination. And please do not change the decor of the resident area too much, really the entire tower should stay relatively the same. Her environment should be stable unless she is the one to actively make changes. She needs a routine. Like her days at HYDRA, only healthier. And I’m recommending that she no longer accompanies you all on missions unless absolutely necessary. Even then, she should stay in the quinjet.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, comfort. She should be given the option of comfort. Don’t bring it into her room. Let her do that herself but it should be there.”

Everyone nodded at his suggestion. They could do that. Tony wasn’t even planning on any major redecorations for a while. He was already texting Pepper to pick you up a long list of what Dr. Myers suggested as well as going into FRIDAY’s system to remove all the restrictions that had been placed on your living situations.

“Buck, where are you at?” Wanda asked gently after Dr. Myers exited.

“I hurt the one good person I had in there. I had a wife. I had a wife and I hurt her.” The crack in his voice was unmistakable.

“Bucky…”

He pulled away from Sam’s touch. No one was sure of what to say. Sometimes it was best to let Bucky rationalize and process all by himself. Especially when it came to HYDRA. But this was different and the team wasn’t sure if leaving him to simmer in his own thoughts was a good idea. Even after Maria, Sharon, Nick, and Zemo had left, the team stayed with Bucky. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there but it felt like it was at least an hour before he was able to rise from the meeting chair. He needed to find you and talk.

The rain had started about fifteen minutes after you had initially stepped onto the balcony. Practically running, you tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Fear ran up your spine at the sudden remembering you technically didn’t have permission to be here yet and your thumbprint wasn’t yet accepted by the lock. Your breathing got shallower as you tried to yank the door off of its hinges. You started calling out to every person on the team even though no one was in your field of vision. It was the only thing you could do at the moment to not completely shut down.

Bucky was in his head as they returned to the resident area. He wanted to talk to you. Had to. Although, what he was going to say, he was absolutely unsure of. His ears perked up at the sound of crying.

The brunette ran when he caught sight of you pounding against the glass of the building, pleasing to be let back inside. The terrace door nearly flew off with the force he used to open it. You shook hard as he held you close, bringing you to the safety of inside. Your fist pounded at your chest in a poor attempt to regulate your breathing again but it wasn’t working.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, teeth chattering the entire time. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, Bucky. Please don’t make me go back out there. Please. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He rocked you both back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You did nothing wrong. Come on, let’s get you out of these soaked clothes.”

The bloodcurdling scream you let out the moment he tried to help you up made Bucky accidentally drop you.

“No! Please don’t take me back out there. Soldier, please!”

Bucky stepped back with a vengeance, hands up to try and make himself seem like less of a threat. He moved out of the way when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Sam crouched down to your level, holding you by both of the shoulders and doing very exaggerated breaths.

“You’re cold, aren’t you?”

You nodded, teeth still chattering.

“These clothes can’t be comfortable any more. I can fix that if you want.”

Sam thanked Steve as he took the large towel from the man. He wrapped it around you, rubbing your arms to warm you up a bit. You took his hand after some careful consideration, letting him help you get to your feet. Your breathing was still unstable. Everyone watched you take in large gulps of air as if you were drowning.

“Nat and Wanda are going to help you get into something dry and warm. Is that okay?”

Your eyes flitted over to Bucky. Without missing a beat, Sam stepped in front of him.

“Hey, hey, look at me. He’s not going to do anything, alright? No one is taking you back to the terrace.”

You wouldn’t move, still staring at Bucky. The super soldier sighed, patting Sam on the shoulder so the other man could move aside. The rest of the team held their breath as he approached you. Even if he didn’t like to speak it, he never forgot a single word of Russian he learned.

“Let’s go. The girls will put you in something warm, dry. Safe.”

He didn’t wait to see if you were following, knowing that wasn’t going to help. Bucky’s ears were tuned into you though. He finally breathed when he heard the sounds of your footsteps moving towards him. Nat and Wanda were quick to follow.

✭

part 4

TAGLIST:

@lil-riddle-kiddle @valckenaux @fries11 @blackterrae @violetlilites @dakotali @23victoria @dottirose

#mcu #marvel fic #marvel #dark!bucky barnes #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier x reader #dark!bucky x reader #hydra!reader

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whitefeathers · 5 months ago

Note

do you have any noncon namgyu thoughts....

so many. maybe even too many. heres one tho. pure smut

tags: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dark content, dead dove do not eat, use of the word r*pe, non con, humiliation, degradation, reader isn't from korea and doesn't know korean but no mention of the reader's race (only that she's 'foreign' and speaks english), fem!reader, nam-gyu fucks you in a club bathroom

Nam-gyu's cock slips out of you, only for it to ram back inside harder than before.

"Don't push me out, slut," his hand flexes tighter around your throat, and you choke, trying to breathe but failing. He smirks in your face, toothy and devastatingly handsome if not for him literally raping you. "Only gonna make it worse for yourself."

His other arm is hooked under your knee, keeping it in the air as he fucks you. He has you hoisted up against the grimy wall of the men's toilets in Club Pentagon, your bandage dress ripped to expose your tits and pushed up past your hips to give him access. You thought you looked cute in the dress, and now it's ruined. Nam-gyu thought you looked cute in the dress, too, but god, do you look better without it.

"Please, Nam-gyuuu, stoooop!" you wail, crying messily and struggling to breathe, glittery makeup running down your cheeks. Your voice is shaky from moans you can't keep in, his cock pounding them out with every rhythmic plap, plap, plap of his hips against yours. Nam-gyu is fully clothed other than his jeans and boxers pulled down to his mid-thigh. You're practically naked, tits bouncing with each thrust and panties danging from your ankle, and it makes your cheeks burn with humiliation.

He's fucking you so hard and so deep that it's impossible for it not to feel good, even if you're trying your best to get him off you, squirming in his hold and weakly trying to push him off. He's stronger than you and taller than you, insistent on having a pretty girl's cunt to wet his cock.

"Not gettin' out of it, sugar tits,"

Ew.

You can't fathom how you were attracted to this man just twenty minutes earlier, dancing with him under the strobe lights of the dance floor, letting him buy you drinks and sleazily grind against your ass. He'd whispered his name in your ear and you'd whispered yours, letting him charm you. On the dance floor, he'd said things to you in Korean that you couldn't understand, complimenting you in English while calling you a pretty little whore in Korean. You could only catch the word for pretty, recognising it from your traveller's handbook, so you melted into his arms, letting him press sloppy kisses to your throat and grab your hips.

By the time you'd realised that you were too drunk to be doing this with a stranger in a country where you barely knew the language (or anyone, for that matter), he'd dragged you off to the toilets and insisted on you paying him back for those free drinks. He didn't take no for an answer. Not the excuse that you needed to get back to your friends, the excuse that you were too drunk, the excuse that you didn't want this, not here.

Scumbag.

His hair falls down in front of his face as he looks down at where his cock disappears inside you, and he laughs, panting.

"Fuckin' tiny cunt," he slows down just to watch your hole stretch to take him, dripping wet and puffy. "Warm, tight, wet." He emphasises the last word with a harsh thrust, stuffing himself as deep as he'll go inside you before humping back into you with more vigor than before. You are wet, so, so wet. You can feel it in the way he glides in and out of you, effortless and slick, working your poor guts into mush with each pound.

His hand loosens around your throat, letting you gasp in air. You squeeze your eyes shut, bottom lip trembling. You want this all to be over, guilt twitching in your stomach and sticky warmth twitching in your neglected clit. He's making you feel things no boy has before, and you know something is seriously wrong with you as you clench around him. Your pussy wouldn't be this wet if you didn't want it.

Nam-gyu's thrusts get sloppy and he pulls out, shoving you to the floor and furiously jerking his cock in his fist over you. His jaw is clenched and you look up at him through wet lashes with broken, wide eyes, and that's what makes him cum, shooting hot ropes of silky cum over your tits and your dress.

He groans, running his hand through his hair as his chest heaves, coming down from his orgasm.

"C-can I go?" you whisper as he tucks his softening cock back into his pants, still glistening with your slick. The sight makes another pang of guilt worm its way into your tummy. Part of you enjoyed this.

"Not yet. Lemme keep you for a little while. Pretty to look at."

You think he means for a few more minutes.

He doesn't.

#cherry does… squid game #cherry does... nam-gyu #nam-gyu smut #nam-gyu x reader smut #squid game smut #dark nam-gyu #namgyu smut #player 124 x reader

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latenightdaydreams · 1 year ago

Note

I have an idea that Konig is Ghostface and he's been stalking reader for a while. He found out reader is a bookworm outside but literally a cunt inside. Like she never comes to parties, spend hours with her vibration instead. One night, Konig sneaks in her house and rape her fat unused pussy 😩😩😩

🤭🤭🤭YES😮‍💨

Ghostface!König x Nerd!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

🚫TRIGGERS🚫

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, bondage, voyeurism, stalking

3.1k word count

👻

The first time König saw you was at the campus Valentine's Day party. You showed up dressed in a festive pink sweater, but then sat in the corner with a stank look on your face. His eyes followed you as you seemingly complained to the girl you came with, a friend? Either way, your breasts and sensual body shape caught his attention.

König walks up to a guy that’s talking to your friend, “Wer ist das?” He asks, pointing to you.

“She’s a bitch,” the girl's friend hits his chest as if to tell him to shut up.

“She’s just shy. She hates parties.” Christa, your friend, defends you.

They all stand there and watch you gather your things and walk out the door without saying bye to anyone, not even your friend. Interesting. What type of woman are you? He was intrigued and wanted to see more of you. See what those bouncy breasts look like outside of that pink sweater.

After this first encounter, he dedicated his time to following you around campus. First, only to figure out what your schedule was. What classes do you take, what teacher do you have, what building the classes are in, etc. Just the basics.

He stalks behind you, far enough behind that you’d never notice; but close enough to listen in on any conversations you had. Which was basically zero. You kept to yourself no matter what you were doing. If someone interacted with you, you’d have such a poor attitude about it. Snappy, short, lots of eye rolling. This went on for two months.

One day, König set up a forced interaction. Dressed casually and slicked his blonde hair back. He looks handsome, standing at 6 '10 and being pure muscle. He knows he is attractive; his personality just sucks, much like yours seems to.

He lingers outside your second class of the day and looks around as if he were a lost student. Once he sees you, he walks over.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Your eyes dart to him as you take out an air pod. “What?” Your tone is unkind.

“I’m lost and I don’t know which room-”

“I’m late for class.” You cut him off and walk past him.

König just watches as you walk away with a smirk on his face. He knows once he has you in his hands, he’d have fun breaking you. After that, he waits for you to leave class and follow you home. Since you would not get to know him the typical way, he would continue getting to know you in the shadows.

You walk fast, but he has no issues keeping up. Your hips sway hypnotically, keeping his attention. Finally, you stop at a cute one-story home. He watches as you take your keys out and enter your home. Waiting a few minutes before he walks up to peek into your windows. He looks around to make sure no neighbors are watching as he walks up to your house, crouching.

Eyes peering through the first window, he sees your living room. Your shoes kicked off by the door, TV turned on already, and backpack thrown on the couch. His eyes scan the room, trying to take in every detail.

Continuing on he comes to the next window. He sees you and ducks back, worried you might have seen him. After a few seconds of no screams, he creeps back to the window. There you are. Taking off your shirt and jeans, just standing there in your beige bra and blue cotton panties. Totally unaware you’re being watched as you check yourself out in your dresser's mirror.

Watching like a hawk as you open the top draw and pull out a pink little vibrator. König could already feel his pants begin to tighten. You walk to your bed, grabbing a towel that’s folded underneath the bed. Laying the towel out, getting your pillows situated, and moving the blanket. It’s almost like a ritual and König’s interest is definitely piqued.

He watches as you lie down on the bed. Your pretty pussy covered with a little bit of hair, as you spread your legs he can see the pink within your folds. Fuck this is gold…

König quickly undoes his pants as he watches you pick a setting before moving it to your little clit. Through the window he can hear how loud you’re being, your legs twitch from the stimulation. All the while König stands there feverishly stroking his leaky cock. Imagining him running up to you and shoving his cock in that tight little pussy…

Your hips begin to grind into the vibrator as your head drops back on to your pillows. Your left leg is starting to tremble… König watches without blinking as your innocent pussy begins to squirt. Fingers replacing the vibrator, you start rubbing your clit quickly. Your sweet juices are spraying everywhere. He bites his lip as he begins to cum, accidently cumming on the siding of your house. It felt as if he were a wild animal and just marked you, leaving his scent behind to deter other predators.

This became a ritual for König as the school year went on. He would follow you around campus, watch who you talk to, see how you interact with the world. Occasionally he would try to go up to you and just talk nicely, but every time you shot him down. As if you’re better than him. Then he would follow you home and masturbate outside your window as you play with your tiny cunt.

That was until summer break happened. You went away to work as a camp counselor for the summer, leaving König behind. With you gone, König felt lost. He spent most of the summer inside watching porn. Looking for actresses that resemble you, but none could match your perfect breasts or pretty pink cunt.

August rolls around and classes start back up. König walks into his social science class and sees you… perfect. You sit in the front, middle. Teacher’s pet know-it-all, of course you’d pick there to sit.

König sits in the very back, where he has a clear line of view in your direction. He watches as you rest your head in the palm of your hand. How you cross your legs and squeeze, as if you’re trying to stimulate some sort of pleasure. Little slut, you can’t even control yourself in class. All the obsession comes rushing back to him. He needs you.

Halloween rolls around. König is handed a flier for a costume party that will be happening at one of the sororities here on campus. His new friend Carl, your friend’s boyfriend, goes out with him to buy costumes.

They both walk through the Halloween store and talk casually. He tries to think of ways to ask about you without being so direct.

“Is Christas bitch friend coming?” König chuckles to make it seem less important to him.

“Y/n? Probably not. She never shows to support anything Christa does. When she does, she’s in a foul mood and just leaves. It breaks Christas heart.” He sounded genuinely upset with you and your behavior.

“What’s her deal anyway?”

“I don’t know. Little stuck up virgin bitch thinks she’s better than Christa because she’s waiting until marriage.”

Virgin. That’s why you only touch your clit; you don’t want to “pop” your cherry.

“Is she religious?”

“Probably. I never cared to ask. Let’s just hope she doesn’t show up and ruin it.”

“Yeah.” König didn’t want you to show up, but for a very different reason. He had something special in the works.

Reaching up, König grabs a Ghostface mask and holds it up to his face. “Hey, what about this?”

Halloween night, König puts on the black robe over a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, and a small satchel bag that has duct tape and rope. A real knife in his hand. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at himself. Blonde hair longer and pushed back, dark circles under her icy blue eyes, and a twisted look on his face.

“You got this. You can do it.” He whispers as he slips the mask over his face.

König leaves his shared apartment on campus and walks down the street while the sun is just beginning to set. Other students rush past him, all heading to their own Halloween parties. Towering over everyone dressed as Ghostface, he had a few people jump out of fear. From behind the mask, he apologizes while laughing. As if he is a normal guy.

Finally, he approaches the steps on the sorority. Walking inside he sees that there are a few other Ghostface at the party already. König rolls his eyes under the masks. His attention turns to the staircase as he hears Christa and Carl arguing. Without being seen, he walks closer to listen in. It’s clear that she’s talking about y/n.

You bailed. Probably home studying or making yourself squirt. The thought gives König a chub. You’re exactly where he hoped you would be. At first, he was nervous this wouldn’t work out for him. No, you never change. Easy to track. Before he is seen, he slips out of the doors.

He blends in easily for once in his life. Everyone dressed up like freaks or sluts. The giant isn’t the main focal point today. Once he enters your neighborhood, he notices the empty streets, but very loud house music. All of your neighbors seem to gather, yet your home's lights are on.

Cautiously, he approaches your living room window. Boom, there you are, asleep on the couch. The TV on TLC, some random trash television show. He attempts to lift the window in front of him, but it’s locked. Moving down a window to your bedroom, also locked. König walks around the back and tries the back door, locked. The kitchen window is a little smaller, but he still tries it. Open.

Carefully, König climbs through the window. His massive body just barely begins to fit, but he manages. Slowly he climbs off of the counter that was right under the window, being sure to not kick anything off the counter and possibly wake you up.

Once stable on the floor he stood there for a while and looked around your kitchen. Your style was quirky, which was odd because you act as if you have no personality. Before waking you up, he goes into the bedroom and gets that towel you keep under your bed. He lays it out on the bed the same way you do. Even arranging the pillows and blanket for you.

Reaching into his bag under his black robes, he takes out the rope and tape. The rope he leaves on the bed as he walks out of the bedroom with the tape. He pulls some and he can be quick to shut you up.

With soft steps he makes his way to the living room. He can see your hands are in your hands as if you fell asleep masturbating. A virgin whore. He’s ready to just make you into his whore. Standing over you as you sleep; eyes drifting over your breast and the tiny bit of midriff that is showing.

Slowly lowering his face closer to you until he sees your eyes open. At first it’s as if you didn’t register what you saw. König tilts his head. Then you open your eyes again and begin to scream. Quickly he covers your mouth with the tape.

“Shhh,” his eyes go wild behind the mask.

You try to stand and get away but his massive body easily overpowers yours and slams you back down into the couch.

“Don’t fucking move.” He hisses as he cuts the tape with the knife. Pulling more, he adds an extra layer.

With ease he lifts your body from the couch, pinning your arms to your side so you can’t hit him. Your legs kicking as he brings you into your room; eyes going wide as you see that he set the bed up the same way you set up when you masturbate.

König giggles looking at your face, “I did good, ja?”

He grabs the rope and tosses you on the bed. As you try to stand up, he pushes you back hard, “Give up Maus, you’re mine tonight.”

Using his massive body to pin you down, he climbs on top of you. Your face down into the mattress as he grabs one of your arms and pins it behind your back before grabbing the other. He uses the rope to tie your hands together, tight enough to dig into your flesh.

“I’ll show you how to have a really good time.”

König stands and grabs your body, turning you to rest on your back, nuzzled in the pillows like when you masturbate. He walks to your dresser and takes out the small pink vibrator. You look up at him with wide eyes, it’s clear that he’s been watching you.

“Now, don’t move, or I might cut you.” He says leaning back over your body as he begins to cut your shirt from your body. Your full breasts come into view and he can’t help the temptation of reaching up and pinching your nipple. You try to scream through the tape, but the sound is muffled.

His attention drops down to the waistband of your pajama pants. Slowly he pulls them down. Seeing your cunt face to face instead of at a distance was breathtaking. Speechless, he moves his fingers through the soft hair that covers your pussy. Finally, he can feel you, smell you, taste you.

“If you move, I’ll gut you.” He threatens as he begins to settle himself between your legs.

He lifts his mask slightly and takes in a deep breath of what your pussy smells like. It’s almost sinful. He has to taste it. Slowly he slips his tongue out and swipes it through your folds. You squirm slightly but stop, remembering the knife. He swipes his tongue up again. If he knew you were this sweet, he would have broken in sooner.

Shoving his face into your pussy he takes a deep breath before sucking on your clit. He bites it lightly, causing you pain as your body jerks away. Not letting you move; he wraps his arms around your legs tightly to hold you still. Spit running down his chin as he aggressively laps at your cunt. He slurps your pussy juice before biting your labia. Again, you jerk in pain and König just laughs as he pulls his mask back down.

Once he stands from the bed he just looks down at your naked body. He begins to pull off the black robe, tossing aside the satchel. Stripping down to his birthday suit, but the mask stays on. His body is massive with a cock so heavy it hangs.

He grabs your pink vibrator and turns it on, gently holding it to your clit. His eyes light up as your legs begin to tremble. Muffled little moans escaping your lips. You can’t help but to feel pleasure, even though you’re in this situation.

“Good…kleine Hure.” He turns off the vibrator and sets it aside. Inching closer to you, he slaps his cock on your pussy a few times.

“Ready?”

You shake your head no and try to scoot away from him, but he grabs your legs and drags you back to him. “No, no, no, you’re not getting away that easy.”

Looking down at your cunt he rubs the head of his cock back and forth over your clit. Slowly he slips down. With one hard thrust of his hips, he bullies his monster cock deep inside of your unused pussy. The tightness of your cunt was something only his hand had ever given him.

“Mien Gott, you really were a virgin.” He chuckled.

König grabs your legs and lets them fall over his arms as he holds your ass up off the bed slightly. His hips rolling rapidly into you, looking down he can see blood on his cock. A soft growl leaves his lips.

He lets your legs drop as he leans over you, one of his hands wrapping around your throat lightly. “My fat unprotected cock just ruined your pretty virgin cunt.”

You try to turn your head away from him as tears begin to roll down your eyes, but he doesn’t let you. He turns your head back to face him.

“Eyes open. I want to see the shame when I make you cum.”

You open your eyes as you have no choice but to listen. His free hand reaches down between your legs and begins to rub your clit. Trying to resist the pleasure was impossible, your legs tremble as your pussy feels as if it were torn in two.

He watches as you shake your head no. Your pussy getting tighter on his cock, he knew. He pulls out quickly, shoving his middle and ring finger into you. He presses down on the lower part of your stomach as his fingers curl, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You drop your head back and he slaps your pussy, “Eyes on me!” His voice a low growl.

Lifting you head back up to look at him, your eyes cross from the explosion of pleasure you’re feeling. You squirt, hitting the Ghostface mask slightly, getting it all over König’s hands and arms.

“That’s what I want to see!” He excitedly slips his cock back into your pussy. His eyes watch as you wince in pain.

His hips move mercilessly into you. “I’m going to cum deep inside of this pussy. You’re going to get pregnant with my babies. You like staying home anyway, right?”

The look on your face as he talks down to you is full of fear and it’s just enough to get him off. He presses his cock fully into you, your cries of pain muffled buts still so beautiful. König cums deep inside of you. His seamen painting every inch of your velvety walls. A loud groan leaves his mouth as he tries to press in even further.

The look on your face is almost relieved as he cums, that means this is over with. So, you thought. He pulls his cock out, covered in blood and cum. In one quick motion he flips you on to your stomach, pulling you down the bed a little. He sits on the bed now, one leg on either side of you. König leans forward to pull the tape off of your mouth and drags you closer to him by your shoulders.

“You’re going to clean this.” He says slapping his cock on your face a few times. “Open.”

You don’t struggle, opening your mouth wide. The taste of salty cum and blood assaults your taste buds. His hand grasping a fist full of hair and shoving his cock down your throat. Your body thrashes, legs kicking as you gag.

“Get used to it, Maus. My cock isn’t leaving your throat any time soon.”

984 notes · View notes

moon7jay · 1 year ago

Note

i would KILL for a hearing non-con but like in public, at a restaurant or something so public kink x somnophilia kink (?) pretty please

Don't let them hear you (p.sh)

Warnings : non consensual, stalking, public sex, chikan, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dub con(?), just pure filth

THIS WORK CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL THEMES SUCH AS RAPE

if u still proceed to read I take 0 responsibility

"He's still looking" You whispered in to your phone, trying not to make it obvious to the man sitting 3 tables across from you that you had caught him staring at you like a creep.

"Babes maybe he just finds you attractive" your best friend answered and that option would have been viable if it wasn't for the eerie feeling you got from the said man.

"No you don't understand syd, I'm pretty sure I saw him earlier in the cafe today"

"at your part time?"

"Yes! and I've seen him there a couple more times before and he's always maintaining this weird eye contact with me it's so creepy" You said urgently, trying not to raise your voice more than an octave while simultaneously trying not to look in his direction. He was still staring at you, you could feel his dark eyes on your face.

"You do know that it's the most famous cafe around town right? Besides its so close to the university maybe he's just a random college student?" she tried to reason.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you were reading too much into the situation and maybe he really was a random stranger who happened to be around you most of the time by a stroke of coincidence. You looked up momentarily and met his eyes, a jarring shiver running down your spine when he stared back blankly, sipping on his coffee, his headphones hanging around his neck, gaze focused intensely on you. You tried to shake off the unsettling feeling creeping up in your chest and managed a small, polite smile in his direction. Maybe he was just someone who had a crush on you and needed some encouragement to talk? And if you were being honest..he was insanely gorgeous, that was the main reason you had noticed him at the cafe before.

What you weren't expecting was for him to go stiff in his seat and break eye contact. You watched in confusion and worry as he slammed his coffee down on the table and stood up, eyes downcast, hurrying towards the other side of the restaurant. You felt disrespected and confused while you watched his retreating figure. What the fuck was his problem??

"You still there? Y/n? What's happening?" syd's voice brought you back to the conversation at hand.

"Idk I smiled at him and he just...left, so weird" you whispered to her and she cackled

"Men" she snickered and you chuckled, finally breathing in relief now that he wasn't around and breathing down your neck

"Men" You laughed back, stirring the conversation onto the other topics while you finished your meal.

your phone dinged while you were waiting for your bus to arrive, the phone number was unknown, weird, you thought.

Your blood ran cold when you read the first sentence, a couple more messages flooding in one after another.

[Unknown]

[9:34] : your smile is so pretty, had to rub one out in the restaurant's washroom baby

[9:34] : can't wait anymore

[9:35] : you're mine you know, I just need to show it to you

[9:36] : fuck i know you're reading my msgs, r they turning u on?

What the actual fuck?

You cupped your mouth with your palm and turned off your phone, looking around frantically, the panic rising in your chest, but you saw no one around and it creeped you out more.

A relieved sigh left your mouth when you saw your bus pulling over, hurriedly getting inside and squeezing through the crowd, moving past pressing bodies to reach the end of the bus, leaning against the glass window and panting with the exertion and relief of finally being in a safe space, scanning the crowd to see if he was there.

The bus doors closed and you finally stood up properly, your shoulders relaxing, turning around to look out the window while u held onto the strap handles on the ceiling.

What a fucking weirdo, you thought. How did he even get your number? had he been stalking you all this time? How had you been so slow in noticing him?

you felt him before you saw him, his large hand coming up to engulf yours on the strap handle you were holding, pressing his body closer to your behind. Your chest constricted in acute fear, the position was so uncomfortable that you tried moving forward to create some space between you two, leaving the strap handle and pressing yourself closer to the glass windows, holding on to one of the seat handles instead. This can't be happening, how did you not see him get on the bus, your hands started sweating.

You knew you were in trouble when he shamelessly invaded your space again, both hands looping through your waist to rest against your stomach while he buried his nose in your hairs , inhaling deeply.

Your breathing became heavy, your nerves making you freeze. You looked around and realized that the bus was too crowded for anyone to notice anything inappropriate, with the way he was holding you, you almost looked like a couple. Almost.

Your eyes met an elderly man's and you were about to open your mouth to scream for help when you yelped from feeling a sharp object dig into your side. Your blood ran cold.

"Don't even think about it" he whispered. His voice was deep and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You stilled, facing forward to not provoke him. He was so much bigger than you, his body practically covering yours. You did not want to die here tonight. He wasn't going to kill you was he? Would anyone ever find out what happened to you if he did? Tears started to gather in your eyes when you felt his hands squeezing around your body, touching and groping u like u were meat.

"U think anyone would care? look around you, these are all men sweetheart, they would probably jerk off while you cry for me" He chuckled condescendingly in your ear, his one hand moving up towards your chest, groping your boobs harshly, a gasp leaving your trembling lips at his actions. A satisfied groan left his chest at feeling you, his fingers digging into your mounds.

"so fucking big, ever fucked a cock between them baby?" He asked and a sob left your lips at his words. No one had ever talked to you this way before. It was making you feel so dirty, a weird feeling rising inside your chest.

He chuckled at sensing your discomfort, running his hands down your body, leaving your boobs and groping your ass through your skirt, lifting it above your rear cheeks, basically exposing your bottom half to the entire bus if someone were to look over.

"ever taken a dick in this gorgeous ass? fucked back on a dick while it pounded your tight hole?" He groaned, groping your hips and connecting his lower region to your ass, his actions pushing you forward to press against the glass. You pressed your hands against the window to gain some balance, the position giving him leverage to rut into your behind.

"mhmmfuck do u feel how excited you make me? " He asked groaning in your ear, running his tongue against it while his hard cock poked your ass repeatedly as he grinded against you. You could feel that he was big, a disgusted shiver ran down your body when you realised how violating this all was. But at the same time, a sick tingling feeling was beginning to throb between your legs.

"Take your panties off" He whispered and you thought you heard him wrong.

"w-what" You sobbed quietly, dreading what this was leading to, his fingers flexed impatiently at your sides, his hips moving against youu in a subtle grind.

"I said fucking take them panties off, you won't need them soon anyways" your hands shook as you slowly reached under your skirt to slide your panties off your legs, the implication of his words wasn't lost on you.

"fuck yeah" He groaned, snatching the lace fabric from your hands. You shivered feeling the cold air run between your legs, cursing yourself mentally for opting out of wearing pants today, more tears ran down your cold cheeks.

Slurping sounds reached your ears and you closed your eyes, trying to drown out the sounds of him licking into your panties. The sounds were so lewd, you wanted to puke. This can't be happening to you. The movements of his hips became fast, muffled moans coming out of his mouth while he rotated his hips to search more friction for his throbbing cock against your bare ass.

"You smell like sex you know? Taste like fucking peaches, so fucking perfect" He panted, burying his face in your underwear.

you could hear his excitement in your ear and it was starting to affect your body in a way that disgusted you. The moisture was beginning to gather in your pussy, body heating up from the assault.

"fuck this shit" You heard him curse and he pulled away from you, dangling sound of a belt being undone and pants being unzipped made your body shake in anticipation of the oncoming violation of your body. It was going to happen. You were going to be raped. More hot tears spilled over your cheeks, a sob building up in your throat.

"Name's sunghoon, remember that while I tear your pussy apart" he whispered.

"P-Please" You sobbed quietly even though you had no hope left when he was pressing his body into you again, a hot and heavy organ digging between your thighs.

"p-please no, please stop, I'll do anything" you sobbed again, a sharp gasp leaving your throat when he rubbed his cockhead against your entrance, gathering your slick.

"you're wet as fuck for me baby-shit-u like getting raped on subways yeah?" he chuckled, hissing through his teeth when he finally breached your opening, tearing through your cunt, impaling you on his monster cock roughly. A sharp pain tore through you, your pussy unable to adjust to the harsh entry, he was too big for you. You scratched against the glass window, resting your forehead against it to find some support as you sobbed in pain.

His mouth found your ear again and he started to thrust in you, groans of satisfaction leaving his lips upon feeling the tight clench of your warm pussy.

"dreamed of raping your cunt since the first time i saw you in that cafe baby" he panted, his words confirming your suspicions about him, but what use was that suspicion when you couldn't even protect yourself? His dick lodged itself into your womb again and again, a reminder of your foolishness.

"always so pretty, wanted to open your legs and fuck into you while everyone watched, that guy that works with you? He wants your pussy too, that fucker" He groaned and snapped his hips into you harder, a pained sob ripped through you again. Jake? No.. Jake was a sweetheart, he would never think about you like that.. . He would never -

"You're so unaware of the effect you have on men's dicks aren't you baby? - jesus fuck- if given the chance, everyone here would bury their dicks in this slutty pussy, raping it till they're satisfied" He groaned, chuckling condescendingly, as if mocking your naive nature with the constant pistoning of his hips into your cunt.

"pussy so good, so fucking tight and creamy mhmmn" he moaned into your ear in pleasure, more slick ran down your legs, your lower body burning up in arousal now, a sick pleasure running through your body as his dick kept bumping your cervix. His hands travelled inside your shirt and groped your breasts roughly and painfully, holding onto them for leverage while he thrusted into you like a madman.

"Oh fuck yeah, jerked off to this image so many times baby, fucked into my fucking fist imagining it was your cunt"

Your eyes closed, unable to stop yourself from moving your hips back on him, it was instinct, or maybe some sick part of you was enjoying this. Tears ran down your eyes again, but for an entirely different reason now.

"fuck yeah baby - he laughed in disbelief, his thrusts getting deeper now that you were meeting his hips halfway - fuck back on me like a fucking slut"

Your bodies found a rhythm and a lewd moan left your lips as the pleasure started clouding your brain.

"Yeah? Raping this pussy so good huh?" he panted, hot heavy breaths falling against the side of your face, his eyes rolling back in pleasure due to the insane friction of your lower bodies.

The sound of slick squelching and skin slapping was reaching your ears and you looked around to see if anyone could see you both. Your eyes met the elderly man's from before but this time his stare was different. A jolt of pleasure ran through you when you saw him squeezing his cock through his pants while he watched you getting violated.

You slammed yourself back on the dick that was moving in and out of you faster while you watched the lewd sight. Your hand moved down to lift your shirt up and bite its hem into your mouth so that your entire body was exposed. Your boobs already spilling out of your bra cups, being held onto by sunghoon who was fucking into your greedy cunt.

A sick satisfaction washed over you when you watched the elderly man haphazardly unzip his pants and slip his hand inside, his eyes watching your body get used and violated, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah that's right baby, show him what he's missing out on, show him how u like to get raped by random men's cocks like a real slut" sunghoon groaned , his eyes catching onto the scene your gaze was pivoted to.

A gasp left your lips when you felt sunghoon shift your body to the side so that it was facing halfway towards the man while still being hidden from the rest of the passengers. He lifted your right leg and held it up, holding it from under your knee, spreading you out, giving the pervert man a fucking show.

"Now he can see how my dick moves in and out of your creamy cunt, raping it so good that you're making a mess-shit baby just like that" He panted in your ear, his hips snapping harshly into yours. Your eyes met the old man's again and you moaned upon seeing his hand moving faster and faster inside his pants, drool falling from his lips.

fuck why was this so hot, what was fucking wrong with you??

Your hips moved back into sunghoon's, cunt slamming down on his dick, grinding and fucking back cuz your brain was broken, the thought of cumming overwhelmed your senses, your pussy leaking gallons of slick, making the act of penetration more pleasurable for the both of you. Sex getting messier and nastier.

"keep fucking it baby-holy shit- you need to keep fucking that dick, just like that oh yeah" His breathing was becoming heavy, your mouth was panting, working your body faster and faster to chase that friction on his dick.

His one hand left your chest and travelled down your body to rub your engorged clit, a sharp moan leaving your lips, making him slap you on the clit harshly.

"Don't let them hear u, or do u wanna get gang raped- he groaned, feeling your pussy clench at the thought- is that what u want? what a greedy little cunt" He chuckled hotly, licking into your ear cavity.

His thumb rubbed your swollen clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten, you were so fucking close. Your eyes met the old man's while sunghoon's thrusts became sloppy, his groans getting whinier , the pleasure getting too much for your tangled sweaty bodies. His pelvis met your ass in a few more harsh thrusts, his balls slapping the underside of your thighs

"You're gonna make me fucking cum, yeah fuck yeah make me fucking cum baby" He groaned, his high so close you could feel yours approaching too.

"cum cum cum, gonna cum in you, gonna take you raw, fuck my babies in that cunt, fuck jesus-ughmhmmm- his words cut off as his hips stilled , his dick spurting cum inside of you, your own eyes rolled back upon seeing the old man cum in his pants like a freak, your pussy clenched harshly around sunghoon's dick, milking him for all that he was worth as you came all around him, making him ride his orgasm.

"Shit yeah, feels so motherfucking good" He moaned, pushing his hips deeper into you, fucking his cum back into your cunt, breeding into you. His hold on your body loosened and his dick slid out of you with a pop when you heard your stop approaching. He shoved the panties in your hands and you instantly wore them back, adjusting your shirt and skirt while he watched, his zip still open and cock still hanging out, his hand fisting it to overstimulation, a pained hiss leaving his lips at how good it felt.

You turned around to meet his eyes and watch him jerk off his cock harshly, biting on his lower lip, pressing against your body again, his brows furrowed in pleasure, hot breaths falling on your face.

Your pussy was starting to heat up again, seeing pure carnal pleasure on his face was driving you insane, god what had he done to you?

He slammed his lips into yours and licked into your hot mouth while his hand continued to fist his dick, trying to make himself cum again. He groaned at your taste, his movements becoming faster. He pulled back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and stuck his tongue out, just a millimetre away from your lips. As if on instinct, you stuck your own tongue out to meet the tip of his, moaning at the feeling, rubbing your tongues against each other while he jerked off, saliva dripping down your chins.

When you sucked his tongue into your mouth, you felt his body jerk rapidly, pleasure overtaking his senses as he groaned into your mouth and came all over his hands, finally pulling away from you, sighing in relief and satisfaction.

The bus had reached your stop, coming slowly to a halt but before you could move to leave, he was bringing his cum covered hand to your lips "lick it clean" he whispered and you met his dark eyes, maintaining eye contact while your tongue snuck out to eat his cum out of his hands, moaning at the taste.

"Fuck" he cursed at the sight, watching as you licked his hand clean and finally walked away from him, licking your mouth clean with your fingers.

You were his perfect match.

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