#stockholm syndrome fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

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Dark!Azriel x reader: Stockholm Syndrome[***]

A/N: This is for the Eat You Up girlies <3

Warnings: dubcon themes, dark!Azriel, CNC kink, bdsm undertones, leashes + collars, heavy Dom/Sub dynamics, sex toys, knife play, pussy-spanking, impact play, degradation, foot-humping, biting, slight choking, shadows, sadomasochism, somnophilia, nipple play…?, spitting, mention of non-con

Word Count: 9,960

Visual Prompt here!

You pad quietly along the corridor, searching.

Shadows flick at your ankles, around your bare calves, herding you gently toward the stairs. Teeth bite softly into your lower lip as you ascend the case, feet tiptoeing along the carpeted hallway as you’re guided to his office. The door is ajar, and you spot him at his desk, walking in silently.

Not silent enough, apparently.

Hazel eyes flick over his shoulder, pinning you to the floor, and you still, breath catching in your throat. He turns a little in his chair, darkness thrumming around him, wreathing the great, powerful wings at his back. His eyes catch on your bare thighs, gaze darkening as he drinks you in, frozen in his room.

Azriel’s lips quirk, and that’s all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.

You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.

Azriel’s large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.

A hum sounds in your chest, almost a purr, and your hips wind gently over his own, rocking your centre against him. He can feel the softness of your sex through the seam of his leathers. “Been a long day, huh?” He asks, large hand spanning your throat as he eases you back—so he can look at you. Remind himself how obedient you are. How docile you’ve become.

You blink quietly up at him, satisfaction gleaming in his sharp, hazel eyes.

White canines flash as his lips lift into a grin, “want something, pet?” Your hips roll onto his needfully, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A low chuckle sounds deep in his chest, “want my cock, hm?” Your head dips, and he laughs again. “I’d’ve thought all the maidenly blushing would have been fucked out of you by now,” he drawls, the rich timbre of his voice stirring something hot and liquid in the pit of your belly.

Papers rustle behind you, but you’re too busy staring up at him to care.

“Get on the desk. Legs spread,” he orders, and you practically fizzle with excitement. Sliding out of his lap, and raising yourself up carefully, so your ass is perched near the edge. Thighs part shyly, and you’re thankful for the fabric covering your heat. No matter how many times he’s already seen you, from all sorts of obscene angles.

You squirm when he remains quiet, simply leaning back in his chair, eyes slowly raking over you, leisurely taking you in, as if you aren’t burning with need. His gaze fixates on a spot between your legs, the teal silk darkened and damp. Heat bubbles as his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Showing his growing appetite.

“Remove your top for me, pet,” he says softly, eyes so full of starving hunger it sends goosebumps raising across your skin, nipples peaking as your fingers catch the hem of the cotton. Pulling it up over your head, you shiver in the cool air of his office, toes curling at the intensity of his gaze.

Silence stretches as he watches with predatory intent, allowing your anxiety to build, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.

“Do you remember when you used to protest to all this?” He asks softly, sharp hazel piercing into you, pinning you to his desk. “How you used to scream, and beg for me not to touch you?” A shiver thrills down your spine, and he marks it eagerly. “Answer me, pet.”

You dip your head. “I do.”

His mouth parts in a grin, canines peeking from below his upper lip. “Want to recreate that for me?”

Breath catches in your lungs, muscles stiffening as you stare at him, heat washing your cheeks. “What…?” His eyes seem to almost glow with anticipation, and he pushes up from his chair. The space between you is gobbled up in a single stride, then his hands are resting heavily around your hips, pressing close between your thighs. “Want to make it fun, don’t you?” He drawls, watching you intently.

You dip your head again, cheeks heating, but he lightly grips your jaw, raising your chin. “Go on,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your features hungrily. “Make the hunt good.”

Arousal licks between your legs, but then he steps back, and you watch him curiously.

Azriel merely steps aside, encouraging you to go. “Hide.”

Heat sparks in the pit of your belly, and you’re hopping off his desk, grabbing your top, receiving a firm smack on the ass as you leave. “I’ll know if you don’t try hard enough,” he calls after you, voice being carried on those shadows, speeding you along.

First, you stop at your bedroom, but no—too obvious. Next is the kitchen, but nowhere to hide. Next is the study, and you sneak in, checking to see if you could fit under the desk. No way. But there’s a set of keys laying half hidden beneath some papers, and you smile to yourself.

Silently, you slide the key into the one remaining lock on the back door—having watched the other six come off over the years. Until just one remains. You catch it as it clicks open, careful not to make a sound as you open the door.

And hurry out into the night.

————

Toes curl in excitement as you settle your legs either side of the broad trunk, feet dirty from scaling the large tree. But now you’re up here, hidden, and have a good view of a few of the windows leading into your house.

Watch as he checks the bedroom first—he definitely would have found you there. Then the washroom, a few rooms you can’t see, the kitchen… He disappears for a while, and you assume he’s checking the study. Excitement thrills down your spine as you watch him search for you. Is this how he felt all those years? Secretly observing your activities?

It’s exhilarating.

When he reappears in the bedroom, his shadows are darker, writhing around his wings. He’s begun to figure you’re not in the house—he must not’ve seen the lock yet. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.

His movements drop their leisurely pace, sharpening to something more brutal. Lethally efficient as he checks each room again, going through the lovely house.

When the ground shakes slightly, you can guess he’s found the opened lock—guessed you’ve escaped out into the world. Returned to where he plucked you from.

Azriel prowls out into the garden, hazel eyes flicking left and right, scanning for movement, and you hold your breath. His nostrils flare, and he moves forward, shadows hunting close to the ground. He reaches the base of the tree, and comes up short. Your scent disappears from the ground.

He’s still. Quiet.

Then he begins muttering to himself. Your name, over and over. A strange spell being woven as he chants it repeatedly under his breath. Hands tighten to fists at his side, shadows writhing, and you can feel his agitation from below.

You watch, curiously. You’ve not seen him like this in a long time.

So you grip a pinecone, and drop it over the edge.

Immediately he stops, going silent. Staring at the cone at his feet. His gaze snaps up, razor-sharp hazel slicing into you, and you freeze. Cold, glittering fury dances in his eyes.

Excitement heats your body, hands gripping the trunk as you swing your leg over the side. Then tip off the edge.

His eyes widen, instantly moving to catch you, shadows springing up to soften your fall, and you feel it as his strong arms wrap protectively beneath you. Pressing you to his body. His grip is tight—possessive, and you nestle closer. “What d’you think?” You mumble, pulling back to peer up at him.

“I thought you’d gone,” he mutters, tips of his fingers tightening on you, before loosening, allowing you to settle your feet on the ground. “You know you’re not allowed out here,” he reminds roughly, hand settling on your waist, spanning the width easily.

Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against his rib cage. How fast and hard it’s pumping.

“You told me to make it good,” you murmur, “didn’t I do good?”

“I thought you’d gone,” he repeats with devastating softness. Maybe you shouldn’t have let it go on for that long. “I thought you’d gone,” he says sharply, squeezing your waist. “I’m here,” you say softly, pressing into him. “I haven’t gone any—”

“I thought you’d runaway,” he mutters, a little frenzied. “I thought you’d been pretending. That you’d succeeded in escaping from me.”

You brow furrows, “Azriel, I’m right here…”

He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”

You peer up at him, staring at his beautiful features. How could you ever run away from him?

Gently, you pry your hands beneath his own, linking your fingertips together. Step back a little. “Maybe I was trying to escape,” you taunt softly. “Maybe I’ve gotten bored of you, and want something else.” His face goes white with rage, and you spin on your feet, turning to run for the house.

You don’t even get a single step before his hand has brutally gripped the base of your neck, yanking you back to him. You whimper at the roughness, and he marks the sound eagerly. “Want to repeat that, pet?” He growls quietly, keeping you pinned to the spot.

Teeth prod into your lower lip, his gaze darkening.

“Maybe I was trying to run away,” you repeat, skin prickling beneath the intensity of his attention. Centuries of predatory training zeroing in, on you. “Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He snarls. “Think that’s a good idea, pet?”

“I’m not your pet, Azriel.”

His eyes gleam with cold fury, anticipation burning icily. “No?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Canines flash beneath the moonlight, and then his shadows have encompassed you. The weightless sensation overtakes you, then your feet are again on firm ground. You flinch as something leathery wraps around your throat, tightening until it fits snugly. A collar.

Metal snaps, and you know he’s just clipped on the lead.

Azriel gives a firm tug, making you stumble forward, hissing at the pressure around your throat.

“I think someone’s gotten too comfortable with her position,” he growls lowly, jaw tense, shadows thick and writhing at your feet. “Needs some reminding who’s in charge of her, huh?” A shiver trills down your spine, and you press your bare thighs together. Needing the friction. “Isn’t that right?”

The tears arise on their own, barely even needing to be summoned.

His grip tightens on the leash, eyes flickering with arousal at the sight of your damp lashes. “If you don’t want your role of pet, then by all means, spit on it,” he drawls softly. Menacingly. “Entitled brat, aren’t you?”

He lands a harsh slap to your cheek, tugging roughly on the lead again to keep you steady. “If you won’t comply as a pet,” he snarls softly, “then you’ll obey as a slave.”

A whimper slips from your lips at that, heat turning liquid in you belly. His brow quirks, lips tilting up at their edges, “like that?” Breath trembles from your lips, legs turning weak with arousal.

“Azriel…” you whisper desperately. The heat is too much. You need him to relieve it.

“So desperate,” he laughs softly. “I haven’t even begun on you.”

Then he’s roughly guiding you back, shoving you against a wooden wall, shackling your wrists in chains, shadows copying the movement on your ankles. The leash hangs limp as he steps away, brushing over your breasts, grazing your thighs, and you bow from the board.

Azriel tuts lowly, retreating into the dark dungeon-like basement, allowing his shadows to play with you in the meantime. They skate up your thighs, wrapping over your hips, slithering up your spine. Gliding beneath your shirt. Pinching your nipples.

A breathless whimper slips from your lips as they twist and flick, pressing against the teal silk between your legs. Winding with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to give any meaningful stimulation. Head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as they teasingly circle your clit, more grazing your stomach, keeping you confused from where they’ll next come from.

Your lips part, hips trying to grind down upon them, but they move with you, refusing to come any closer. You nearly cry out in desperation.

You flinch when scarred fingers roughly push aside your soaked underwear, running something rubbery but firm through the wetness. Coating it. You attempt to peer down, but can’t get a good glimpse. Can hardly think straight with how desperately you need him.

Breath is shoved from your lungs as he pushes the object inside of you. Dreadfully slowly. In and out. A few inches at a time. When it’s fully in, he moves your underwear back into place, roughly tugging the strings further up your hips, shoving the toy deeper.

A moan bursts from your lips, spine arching from the circular board as you tighten around it, trying to keep it pressing against that wonderful spot.

“I was saving this for a reward,” he murmurs beside your ear, fingers between your legs, prone to push it further inside. “But I suppose it can double as a punishment, huh?”

Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, barely able to keep them open long enough to look at him. “Can you even remember my name, slave?” He asks, amusement clear in his question. You blink wearily up at him, begging for stimulation. All you get is a rough pat on the cheek, followed by his fingers pressing the toy up into you.

A strangled moan arises from your throat, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to silence yourself. He jerks roughly on your leash in reprimand. “None of that,” he tuts, gripping you jaw so you’re forced to look at him. “I want to enjoy this.”

Then he retreats again, and you sink into the wooden board, weight resting heavily on your arms that are still pulled taut either side of your head.

“Eyes up here,” he commands, a sultry roughness to his order. Heat buzzes between your thighs, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. And you nearly forget how to breathe.

Cold, hard steel catches the dim light. No more than an elegant slice of silver amongst his shadows. Azriel’s lips twist into a smile, deftly spinning the short blade in his hands, skilled with practice, flexible with familiarity. There are more at his side, piled on a table, all the size of small daggers.

“Azriel,” you breathe. “What—”

The blade flies from his hand, embedding in the wood to the right of your body. Too close for comfort. Especially because you know he could hit you if he really wanted, and you don’t know how close he’s willing to get to satisfy his desires. You cringe away from the Illyrian steel, but the chains hold you fast, keeping you pinned to the wall like an insect to a dissection table. Ready for him to play with; experiment on.

“Better keep still,” he mocks, picking up another dagger. “Unless you want a few scars to show for later?” His lips twist into a wider smile, “a reminder of your disobedience, perhaps?” The blade flies, lodging in the wood a few centimetres above your head. You yelp, dipping your head as your blood runs cold.

Another dagger has already left his hands before you can look up, slamming into the wood beside your right breast. A puff of cold air hisses at the skin, practically able to feel the blade if you tip your body a little to the right. It’s piercing the cloth of your top, just another restriction to your movement.

Azriel laughs, flipping a blade in his hand, marking your aroused discomfort. How you squirm.

“Do you regret sneaking out yet? In the night, where anything could have happened to you?” He asks, shoulders tensing at the reminder. “Do you understand how weak you are, huh? How delicate?” He throws another blade, this one nicking your cheek, as if to demonstrate how easily you can be hurt. A whimper is strung from your lips, the light stinging making you want to pull your thighs together.

“Mm sorry,” you breathe, lower lip wobbling. “Mm sorry, Azriel…”

He laughs at that, “better.”

Picks up another dagger. “But too late.”

Steel slices against your hip, slicing the teal string on your underwear, exposing your skin as blood beads delicately. Azriel licks his lips at the sight, a quick flick of his tongue that has you fantasising about everything else he could be doing to you. “Azriel please,” you whimper, vision blurring. “I didn’t mean to upset you… Wanted to make it fun.”

A rough chuckle sounds, the metallic scape of yet another blade sliding into his hand, “I’m having plenty of fun.” Steel flashes in the dim light, making you squint. “Are you not enjoying this?” Teeth push into your lower lip, blinking away the dampness, “want you, instead.” Azriel’s lips quirk, taking in the way your hips shift, tightening around the toy needfully. He targets the other string flawlessly, rewarding you with a matching nick to your hip.

“Yeah? You want me to be inside of you rather than that?” He asks, pleased with your answer. Though not satisfied enough to give you what you want. “Want me to unchain you so I can stuff you with my cock instead? Fuck you ’til you’re going limp in my arms? Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes!” You pant, tightening around the toy desperately. You’re so wet it’s slipping out, no longer kept tucked inside by your underwear.

“Azriel…! Azriel, I can’t— Az!”

Wood splinters as he targets just between your thighs, a breath below your skin. The toy perches atop the flat of the blade—having been thrown sideways. Your chest rises up and down, sweat making your skin gleam in the dim light. Things tremble, weak from the wild ride, adrenaline singing in your blood.

Light catches on his canines as he grins, slightly feral, slowly prowling toward you. “So obedient, aren’t you?” He drawls, towering over you as he rests his hands atop the circular board. Your spine bows from the wood, arching in attempts to get the toy to touch more of those sensitive spots. His grin widens, “want it a little deeper?” He asks mockingly, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure. You nod your head, cheeks hot like the rest of your body.

Teeth flash in the light, and he applies pressure to the board.

You scream as you’re spun upside down, so your head is in line with his boots, feet in the air. Dizziness crashes into you, tipping your sense of balance, warping your sense of direction as he laughs distantly. Fingertips brush down your inner thigh, dancing over the skin, breath grazing teasingly.

“So desperate,” he drawls. “Can you beg for it, hm? Think you can string the words together for me?” You blink hazily as he crouches down, peering at your confused form.

“Azriel…” you manage, then squeeze your eyes shut at the pressure. So hot. Blood rushing downward. “Azriel, please…”

“Please what?” He asks leisurely. “What do you want me to do, pet?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pulling it from your teeth, small scars from where you’ve bitten over the years indented into the pillowy flesh. He grins, leaning forward.

A deluded moan drags from your throat as he presses his canines into your upper lip, tugging on it slightly. Your hands pull on the chains, desperate to touch him as he plays with you, toy beginning to sink back in, but it’s neither fast, nor deep enough.

“Put it in me,” you beg, features scrunching with desperation, eyes squeezing shut against the pressure, brows furrowing. “Azriel, please…put it deeper.” Canines pierce your lip, something thick and rich bleeding onto your teeth, then he’s lapping it up. Landing a rewarding smack to your cheek before he stands. “That’s better,” he chuckles, finger brushing between your thighs, making to push them apart. “That’s much better.”

Breath drains from your lungs as he pushes the toy all the way in, gravity helping it sink deep into your heat. Hot liquid spills, dripping from your eyes up over your brows, trickling into your hair. Knees shake, hips bucking as he keeps the toy pressed inside of you, enjoying the view. “You having fun? Enjoying this?”

He pushes against the toy, making so it presses more into one side, circling the pressure, making you weep. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”

Azriel halts his movements.

Before you know it he’s landed a smack to your clit.

You squeak, jerking against the shackles, to no avail. “Why the fuck are you enjoying it, huh?” He spits, landing another smack to your tender sex. “Did you forget this is supposed to be a punishment? You’re not meant to enjoy it.” Another smack, and tears slide up over your face, saliva wetting the corners of your mouth as you weep.

“No, we can’t have that, can we?” He mutters, grinning to himself as he smacks harder, making you scream, muscles flinching as you writhe against the chains. “How will you learn your lesson if it doesn’t hurt, huh?”

“Please, please, please! I’ve learnt it! I know better!” You cry out, hands balling into fists against the stimulation.

Relief sweeps in as he hold off for a moment, “is that right? Think you’ve learned? Think you know better now?” He presses the toy back in, having been slightly pushed out when you were tensing for impact. You nod your head frantically, “I swear! I’ll never do it again— Please, Azriel!”

He hums to himself, sounding satisfied. Leaning down, his mouth latches over your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit soothingly. Tasting your arousal. Azriel groans at the flavour, sealing his lips over your tender sex, suckling gently, wet muscle teasing the taut bud eagerly. Scarred hands grip behind your thighs, holding you still as you try to buck for more.

You’re murmuring prayers under your breath, chanting them desperately as he plays with you, a cat toying with its mouse—batting it back and forth between its paws. He changes the angle of the toy, and your mouth drops open, silent moans being drawn out, one after the other as pleasure builds and coils in the pit of your stomach.

But then he’s pulling away, leaving you hot and messy, slick coating the skin of your thighs, sex soft and tender from his brutal attention. Heart pounds in your chest as he unlocks your ankles, shadows keeping you pinned to the board as he does the same for your wrists. “Think we’re done, pet?” He murmurs, allowing your body to carefully fold over itself, so you tip over, shadows making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you land on the floor.

Your head is spinning from the movement, cunt aching for more attention, and your legs automatically spread as you attempt to push the toy back inside. Grinding against the floor, but it’s too low, too far away, and your thighs won’t spread wide enough. Whimpers spill from your lips in frustration, wanting that pleasure, riled up from the phantom lick of his tongue over your clit. How good it felt.

Azriel growls roughly, shadows collecting your leash, returning it to his hand as he tugs roughly, drawing your attention back to him, instead of the toy you’re pitifully trying to steal your pleasure from. “Come here,” he orders sharply, again tugging on your collar, causing you to choke.

Clumsily, you crawl forward, stopping to kneel before him.

“Feeling good, slave?” He asks, keeping your leash taut so you’re forced to tilt your chin upward, peering at his towering frame. You dip your head mindlessly, too dizzy and yearning for pleasure to properly think. He chuckles, “yeah? You liked that?” Again you nod, lips parting as your hand slips between your legs to press the toy back inside. Fingers come away wet, slick dripping down and onto the floor.

“But you still need more, don’t you?” He purrs, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, “so greedy. Greedy and gluttonous. Such a brat.” Whimpers drag from your lips, nodding your head dumbly along with everything he’s saying. He chuckles at you.

“Want to feel good now?” He asks, shadows cupping your jaw to keep your attention on him. When you don’t answer, he smacks you, cheek stinging with the impact. “Answer. Or do you want me to chain you back up and give that little cunt some rougher treatment?” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull, but you shake your head in apology. “Mm sorry…please don’t…want to feel good, please…”

His lips quirk—he has you wrapped around his finger. Your pleasure dependant on him. You need him. Without him, you can never feel good.

Azriel takes pity on you, large hand landing atop your head, threading through your hair. “You’re going to be good? Gonna be good for me now?” He asks, grinning when you nod eagerly. Eyes gleam maliciously, and he tugs on your collar, pulling you flush against his leg, arms clinging onto him for stability.

“Go on then,” he urges, shifting one foot to be between your thighs, knocking your knees further apart. “Take your pleasure.”

Relief crashes into you, and you move to pull away, wanting to lie on your back—give him a nice view; a performance as you bring yourself over the edge. Only with his permission, of course.

You whimper when he tugs on your collar, making you peer up at him desperately, questioningly. Lips tip into a smirk as he taps his boot against the floor expectantly. “Go on,” he repeats softly, mockingly. “Take it.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip, hands gripping onto him desperately as your thighs spread, the toy settling against the leather. You lean your weight onto it. Eyes roll back, heat flushing your skin, taking inch after inch. His grip tightens in your hair, hand curling into a fist as he keeps your head tilted upward—so he can watch your blissed out expression as your features contort. All because of him.

Male satisfaction licks up his spine, cock stiffening in his trousers, rubbing against the seam.

You’ve already been worked to the brink, coil so close to snapping, it’ll take minimal effort to bring you that ocean of pleasure. Slowly, you wind your hips over him, unable to do much more with the depth of the stimulation, how deep the goodness is sinking. You wish it was his cock, wish his hands were roughly gripping your hips, arms bound behind your back so you’re completely at his mercy.

Speed up the motions, hips bucking as you grip onto him desperately, his hand fisted in your hair. Azriel watches as you tug your lip between your teeth, brows curving upward, drool shining at the edges of your mouth. Cheeks and lashes damp with tears. Skin hot to the touch. Lips part in pleasure, tongue flicking out briefly. “That’s it,” he goads, shadows gripping your hips to urge you on. “That’s it, take it. Take it from me. Be a good girl and take your pleasure.”

Eyes roll back, lids fluttering as you press your chest flush against him, gripping onto the muscle of his thigh as your hips drag back and forth in sharp, sporadic jerks. “Go on, a little more— That’s it. So good. So good, aren’t you? So well behaved.” The praise sings down your spine, and pleasure bursts across your skin, fracturing your conscious. Hips buck wildly, almost automatically, riding out the euphoria, his fist tightening in your hair. Keeping you still so he can watch as you cum.

His name chants on your lips over and over, eyes filling with tears at the pleasure as you press tighter to him, clinging onto him like he’s some kind of prophet. Some kind of saviour. You bow into his touch, desperate for more, to have more of his skin against your own.

“Azriel…” you moan.

It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. Never failing to make him dizzy with lust, enraptured with the movements of your body, how you’re kneeling and riding him so desperately. Like you really do need him. His temperature rises.

The aftershocks fade, leaving you panting quietly, relaxing your body, shifting off his boot. Thin strands of silvery slick connect the leather to your cunt, creating a sloppy mess. Azriel tuts softly, arousal zapping straight to your clit at the sound alone. “What a mess you’ve made,” he drawls, hand having released your hair. “Gotten my boot all dirty, haven’t you? What a filthy thing you are.”

Colour tints his skin, clearly pleased with the results—how wet you are.

“Think I should make you clean it up, huh?” He jerks on your leash, shadows tightening the pressure of your collar ever so deliciously. “Make you lick it up with that filthy mouth of yours?” He drawls, enjoying the idea. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he chuckles. “No…I think you’d like that too much. Pretty whore.”

A lovely whimper is drawn from your chest as he releases your collar in favour of tossing you over his shoulder, shadows keeping the toy tucked comfortably inside of you. You whine and writhe against him, wanting to feel more of him, have more of him. He lands a harsh spank to your backside, making you yelp, then wiggle more.

Azriel laughs lowly at your antics, rewarding your struggle with a harder smack, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. He carries you all the way through your shared home, taking you up each flight of stairs, leading you up from the basement and into your bedroom. Gently lowers you down his body as he sits, toy still tucked away deep inside. Legs spread over his lap, his arm winding around your waist to keep your chest flush against him.

Fingers thread through your hair, jerking your head back so he can stare you down, those hazel eyes enough to have arousal gathering all over again as you anticipate the awful things he’s going to do to you. “You regret going outside, don’t you, pet. Not going to do it again.” You nod your head along with him, showing you’re sorry. His mouth slides wide in a vulpine smile, “but what about those other things you said, huh? Think I’m just going to let those go?”

You whimper, rolling your hips against him, pleading for him to get inside of you. Fill you up.

He laughs darkly at your attempts to distract him, bucking up against you—let you think he’s forgiven you. But his hold remains tight in your hair, and he watches you swallow against the collar, shadows unclipping the leash. “You said something cruel to me earlier. Do you remember what it was?” He asks, smiling as you struggle and squirm in his lap. Shake your head in response.

Azriel hums, hand moving to grip your throat lightly, holding you gently between his fingers. “You said you wanted to look for something else. That you’d gotten bored, and you wanted something better.” The grip tightens, not enough to make you choke, but enough for you to feel the pressure. You squirm more, shaking your head in denial. “I didn’t mean it…” you beg, hands desperate to touch him, to hold him.

He tilts his head in mock concern, “no? You were lying?”

Teeth bite into your lip, dipping your head in confirmation.

Lips quirk. “That right? You’re a dirty little liar?”

Vision blurs, but you nod, grinding down on him in attempts to make reparations.

He chuckles lowly, deep in his throat. “You made me very upset with that comment. Made me think you wanted someone else. That I wasn’t good enough for you.” He grips harder, breath rasping out, pulling your mouth to brush against his own. “Am I good enough for you, pet?”

“Yes,” you whisper, trying to nod your head. “You’re so good. So good to me, Azriel. So perfect.”

One of his brows quirks. “Perfect? I don’t know about that, pet.”

“You are,” you insist, hardly more than a whine. “Best thing in the world. You’re perfect. Everything.” Lips part in a grin that’s filled with male satisfaction. He releases your throat, in favour of going to his belt. “Want to show me how perfect I am, pet?”

Heat washes down your spine, and you’re nodding frantically, quickly shuffling down his body as he pulls himself free of his leathers. You stare up from between his legs, knelt on the ground, the toy still tucked away, balancing on the wooden boards. Mouth waters as he touches himself, beautiful skin tinted with colour, flushed with arousal.

You don’t notice his shadows slinking away, trailing back down to the basement.

A hand slides through your hair, and it’s all the encouragement you need to be rising up—feet keeping the toy nice and deep—following his silent instruction. You open your mouth over him, and he groans from the back of his throat. You could cry at the taste of him, how right it feels to have him on your tongue, pushing your jaw lower. How lovely his skin is, so soft, and hot. Slightly salty, and tasing so distinctly of himself.

Fingers slip between your legs, rolling over your clit, tightening around the toy.

“That’s a good girl,” he drawls, pushing you down onto his cock, hips bucking upward. “So good. So good at making me feel good. What you were made for. Isn’t that right, pet?” You moan onto him, grinding down, fingers flicking and rolling over the sensitive bud.

Free hand grips his base, pumping what you can’t fit, tongue flicking over the slit in his head. Landing soft kisses to it, and the space just below, suckling lightly, before taking him entirely again. As entirely as you can, anyway.

Enjoying the process, saliva dripping from your mouth, lubricating the slide up and down. How he sometimes cuts off your airways if you take him too far down. How he twitches in response to the slight gags. Loving every second of it.

“Choose a number between one and five,” he orders lowly.

Brow narrows as you make to pull up, but his hand is already resting at the back of your head in warning. You still as his tip, tongue circling again, then you dip as far down as you can go. One…two…three times.

Azriel hums, then a faint clicking noise sounds through the room.

You writhe, muscles spasming, trying to tug away from him as the vibrations hit your sensitive walls. His hand keeps you in place, shadows returning from their adventure down to the basement. Eyes squeeze shut at the pleasure, the stimulation, and the darkness wraps around the base of the toy, slowly beginning to drag it in and out.

Tears build at your lashes, and you take him back down your throat eagerly, spine arching so it touches all kinds of spots. Azriel laughs softly as he watches you, how easily you bend to his will, curving and arching to fit to the shape of his pleasure. Stroking himself through the skin of your cheek, thumb skimming gently.

Another click sounds, and the vibrations change to a steady pulse rhythm, conditioning you to tighten moments after the sensation. His shadows pick up speed, pushing in faster, and harder. Free hand leaves from between your legs to grip onto him, having to steady yourself from the stimulation.

You moan again and again onto his cock, wanting him to feel as good as you are, lapping at the salty moisture that gathers at his tip. Darkness replaces your fingers, playing with your clit, running in tight, repetitive circles, making the pressure in the pit of your belly double…coil over itself again and again.

“That’s good,” he encourages, breathlessly, getting off on seeing how desperate you are. How your hips push back against his shadows, how you moan onto him, dripping onto the floor. “Keep going, pet. Making me feel so good. Show me how much you love me. Worship everything you can get that lying fucking mouth of yours on,” he snarls roughly.

Heat builds at the degradation, coil tightening as you take him as far as you can, nails biting into his leathers as you push your limits. His shadows work in tandem to your efforts, licking over your clit, flicking and swirling over your nipples, tugging on them lightly. Pinching, like he’s attached clips to them. He knows how sensitive you are…all those secret spots he’d discovered.

Azriel curses under his breath, low and vicious. “Do you remember how hard you tried to escape me that first time, pet? How you cried, and screamed? Screamed until that lovely throat of yours was raw?” He drawls, bucking his hips in time with the thrusts of the toy, vibrations making you see stars.

All you can manage is a heady moan, tears dripping down from pleasure, nearly numb with euphoria.

“And look at you now,” he laughs breathlessly, “all good and broken in. Told you I’d have you trained. But you didn’t believe me, did you? Thought you’d make it, huh?” Arousal sparks in the pit of your belly, and you widen the stance of your legs, spreading your thighs to allow it to hit deeper. And it does. It does so well.

Eyes roll back into your skull, hands trembling with the force of your orgasm. He twitches in your mouth at the pure pleasure in your scent, how overpowering it is. Strong enough to tip him into his own high.

Liquid pleasure spills into your mouth, and you nearly go mad. His taste coats your tongue, spurting hot between your lips, spilling down your throat as you lick and lap and suck: worshipping as he’d told you to.

Shadows tighten around your clit, pinching your nipples, tugging on them as he targets every part that you love, succinctly and with mind-breaking accuracy. Practiced precision.

Pleasure overwhelms you, feeling so wonderful as the vibrations crash into you over and over, made stronger as your sensitive walls flutter around the toy, clamping down, forcing it tighter.

The last thing you remember is how he’d pulled you from his cock, spit and cum mixing together to create silvery, milky threads, making your lips glisten. The way those last few spurts had decorated your cheeks, nose and mouth, marking you as his own.

And then your world dimmed, winking out.

————

He continues working on you long after you pass out, grinding his hips sloppily against your own. When you’re passed out, and unaware, you’re inanimate. A pretty accessory for his cock.

Cum gleams over your abdomen, cunt glistening from hours of use, release mixed with your slick. Even while you’re asleep, your body continues to please him, urging him to continue, to pursue that sick pleasure.

Azriel doesn’t mind how unresponsive you are; he gets to paint you as he pleases.

His fingers graze softly over your abdomen, muscle fluttering beneath the teasing brush, tensing as they glide through cum. He groans, cock stiffening expectantly as he scoops release up from your cunt, gathering loadfuls before raising them to your lips. He twitches as the milky liquid splatters over your mouth, trickling over your tongue, making you wake suddenly. Spluttering as he touches the back of your throat.

The scent of his arousal spears into your mind, and your body heats in response, so ready for him to work on you. So ready to submit. Tongue plays with his taste, peering down at yourself as sensations crest over you.

Azriel sits back patiently, allowing you time to catalogue the bruises; the devastation.

Bite-marks litter your thighs, the indentation of his teeth stamped so deep you hope it scars. Bruises hurt on your throat and collar bones, on the space beneath your jaw, and you raise your fingers to brush the intimate skin. Your breasts ache, and you know he’s been having fun with them: pinching, flicking, biting. Suckling the sensitive peaks while he no doubt stuffed you full, cock buried deep inside your tender sex.

Whimpers draw from your lips as you take in the results of his desire—how he’s inflicted his hunger upon your body. How he’ll continue to abuse every spot he likes until… There is no end.

Tongue flicks over your lips, and you settle onto your hands and knees, crawling to him. He may have removed the leash, but he’s still dragging you forward, invisibly connected to him.

“Azriel…” his name rasps from your lips, throat raw from use, need scraping against your skin. Hazel eyes gleam as he watches you crawl forward on shaky limbs—how you drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, set on worshipping him with as much devotion as he does with you. A quiet groan falls from his mouth as you rise up his body, breasts dragging over his chest. He doesn’t miss the flicker of pain across your features as they scrunch, how reactive you are, so sensitive to touch now you’ve been given chance to recover.

Mouth opens over his own, sharing the erotic taste of him across his tongue, revelling in how it strokes against yours. His hands lightly grip your waist, fitting perfectly over the already formed bruises, sliding into place. Tenderly, his tongue flicks out over your lower lip, lapping up his cum from your skin, gathering it in his mouth as his hand slides lower, fingers dragging over your entrance to collect your wetness.

Pleasure lights your body as he laps at his own fingers, indulging in your flavour.

His large hand grips your jaw gently, tipping you upward so you’re facing him. Taps the skin of your cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger. Open.

Hot liquid bubbles in your abdomen as he spits between your parted lips, digits sliding in soon after to press his taste into your tongue; mark every part of you with his scent, until you’re covered in him. You whimper around his fingers, hand wrapping around his cock as you move to pleasure him.

Azriel snarls softly over your mouth, and you retract your touch—even as he pulls you flush against his torso, cock pressing into your tummy so tantalisingly. Teasingly. You whine.

“Azriel…” you breathe, words muffled from his fingers, and pride flickers in his gaze. “What is it?” He asks softly, lips lifting at the edges. You could sigh with relief at that expression; you know what it means. It means lazy, leisurely. It means taking his time—gently, subtle bucks of his hips to stimulate you slowly. Warm you up again.

“I want you,” you plead, hands pressing to his chest. He allows you to guide him back, wings flaring as they press into the mattress. “You’ve had me all night,” he smirks, pleased you’re craving him as intensely as he is you. Mutual obsession. Tangible need.

“It’s not enough,” you mumble, hands skimming the tops of his thighs, eyes torn between laying on his own, and lapping up more of his cock. “I need to have you inside me.” Cock twitches, and you tighten in response, thighs parting over his hips, settling so you’re atop him. “You’ve had me inside you plenty of times tonight,” he reminds softly, eyes glazing with lust, darkening as his hand brushes your abdomen. Knowing how much cum he’s pumped int you.

Lower lip pushes out, brows curving together, “you know that doesn’t count.” Fingers press into the padded muscle of his stomach, slicked with sweat, and you want to trace each one with your tongue. “Want to have you inside, and to feel it,” you moan, guiding his tip to your entrance.

Azriel watches, entranced. Once again reminded at how obedient you’ve become.

“Open your mouth.”

You do so without question.

Lips fashion themselves into a smile. “Close.”

Your mouth closes.

“Good girl.”

Heat flutters between your legs.

Hands gently span your waist, urging you to sink your weight onto him, settle on his cock. You oblige happily.

Eyes roll back into your skull, and you hear him murmur soft words of reassurance under his breath as you sway. Temporarily rendered immobile. He steadies you, waiting for you to be ready for stimulation.

He’s had his fun, had his time to play with your body. Find his pleasure in it. He knows it’s your turn, and he’s happy to let you have it. You’ve worked hard for him, satisfied him repeatedly. Now he wants you to explore him all over again, swirl your hips until you find a pace you like, touch yourself as you want while he supports from the background.

You do just that.

Slowly, you lift off him, thighs trembling with the effort. Then you slide back down, feeling the push of his hip bone digging into the softness of your flesh. Thoughts block out of your mind, pushed away by his cock as it presses into your sensitive walls; quiet whimpers cry from your chest.

Legs shift out from under you as you yield control, unable to lever yourself up and down as you fully rest your weight on him. Leaning back against his legs, bent at the knee to support you, your eyes fluter closed, content to bask in the fullness of him.

His shadows stroke over your head, providing the comfort you seek. Warmth floods your chest at his caring nature.

“Azriel?” You mumble softly, words subdued under the weight of pleasure. He hums quietly in response, hands grazing the tops of your thighs as he watches you. “Tell me a story,” you request.

A chuckle rumbles out of him, and you feel it warm your insides, making you tighten around him. “What sort of story do you want, pretty thing?” You could melt at the nickname. Reduce yourself to liquid to splash all over him, saturate his skin.

Teeth bite into the pillowy silkiness of your lower lip, toes curling as you drag your hips forward by a few centimetres. “Tell me how you fell in love with me,” you request softly. Hands settle at your waist, heating your sides, thumbing the skin softly. “Tell me every thought you had… Every moment you watched me… Tell me all of it.”

“It’s a long and dreadful tale I’m afraid,” he laughs deeply, “I think it would sour the mood.”

“Then tell me one that won’t,” you breathe. “I want to know you more. Want to know everything.” His cock touches a lovely place inside of you, and you focus on softly targeting it, rolling your hips over him.

Azriel pauses, and even with your eyes closed you can feel the weight of his gaze, how assuring it is; how adoring. “Okay,” he sighs, giving in, stroking your thighs, “just one.”

Your lips tip at the edge, one set of fingers linking with his own as he squeezes back.

“It was pretty early on—before I really grasped how deep the obsession ran,” he begins, the rough timbre of his voice curling your toes. “I spotted you coming back from a night out. You were clearly drunk, and stumbling all over the place—I was surprised you made it to your door without falling flat on your face,” he says, fingers tracing patters across your skin.

“I remember knowing you hadn’t locked your door, and I was angry. Angry you didn’t take care of yourself. For being so reckless,” he continues, tapping lightly at your inner thigh—reprimanding you for all those decades ago. Nearly seventy years past since that infatuation took root. “I remember thinking I should use my shadows to give you a scare. Teach you a lesson for being so unaware. You desperately needed to learn to protect yourself, and you weren’t going to start unless something pushed you into action,” he laughs, realising how firmly in your thrall he’d been even back then. Before he was even fully aware of it.

“But when my shadows got inside, you were already undressing, and I couldn’t move.”

Eyes flutter open, and you meet his dark hazel gaze, something far deeper than love dancing in his features. Something bordering on violent, glittering with possession. Protection.

“I doubt you even noticed how dark it got in your room that night, despite the faelight,” he says softly, and your pulse spikes, knowing how closely he watched over you for all those years. How protective he is by nature. “I later learned whenever you came back like that, it often meant whoever you’d chosen for the night hadn’t be worth it, choosing to stumble back to your own bed rather than wake up in theirs.” Again those impatient taps to your thigh, and your hips roll in response, soothing both of you.

“It was the first night I saw you touch yourself. And it felt wrong to watch, but you were so fascinating. I’d never seen someone enjoy themselves purely for their own satisfaction. With partners, or workers in brothels, they’re aware they’re expected to put on a show. They emphasise movements to an obscene, unbelievable degree, while you were calm and quiet.” You swirl over him, vaguely managing to call up a murky image of your bedroom. Picturing the darkness that filled it, and you hadn’t even noticed.

Maybe you’d known, innately, he was not there to harm you, but to love you.

“It was entirely solitary; a completely private moment I was witnessing, and it was an unimaginable weight off my shoulders,” he says, circling the tops of your thighs, heat building and coiling in the pit of your belly. “For those few hours, I was no one. Gloriously free to simply observe,” his lips quirk ruefully. “Until it wasn’t enough to just watch.”

Breathing shallows, chest rising up and down with anticipation. Wanting to know where he took the irreversible step from the light. Straying from his own path, to collide with yours.

“You came back again, drunk and stumbling over yourself, and I knew enough by this point to know you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he says, voice growing softer with each confession. “So that night, when you were on the cusp of sleep, I helped push you over the edge.”

“You didn’t even struggle,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t even try to put up a fight. Just waited patiently as I pushed your legs apart; pulled the silk from your hips. So lovely and docile. So perfect.” Colour flushes his skin and he can’t help the slight buck as he presses himself deeper into your cunt.

“Go on,” you urge, panting quietly. “Tell me more.”

A phantom smile plays on his mouth as he remembers, “there were moments I think you may have fallen asleep, then woken up when your body remembered what was happening. Like you were desperately fighting it off for me, trying to be there for me.” He huffs a laugh, squeezing your hand.

“I remember how you arched at the first stroke of my tongue, how your fingers tightened in the sheets, like you wanted to touch me but didn’t have the energy to manage. So I held you with one hand, just like this. To make sure you didn’t suddenly jolt awake; that you felt comfortable. So your body wouldn’t warn you about the violation.”

“You were nearly perfect, except you didn’t know how to attribute the pleasure, so you didn’t call out my name when you came on my tongue. I watched you writhe, how your eyes widened then slammed shut, squeezing together as you gripped my hand though it all. Like you were worried you’d be washed away in the torrent. You were absolutely breathtaking in that moment; every moment after.”

“That night you became mine. You never knew—I suppose until now—but you responded to me that night. You felt it. I know you did. Your body reacted to me, and you squeezed me back. Despite the scarring, and the burns. You held on like you needed me,” he breathes, panting deeply as his stomach muscles flex in the dim light, sweat glistening across his skin.

“You claimed me too, that night. And I couldn’t resist going back.”

“I think you grew to expect me. You would return from a night out reeking of alcohol, get inside your home, pass out on your bed, and within a few minutes, you would be soaked. Dripping onto your sheets, waiting for me. Spread out and perfect. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, yet you didn’t even know who I was.” His hand squeezes yours, and you know you won’t hold on much longer.

“I tried to stay away. For months I would be off in another court, and you consumed me. At night I would lie awake, thinking about you, wondering if you were lying in your own bed, cunt dripping for me, waiting for me to soothe the ache. Sometimes I would be gone for so long your body forgot how to behave when I returned.” His words grow rougher, more agitated.

“So I made sure you remembered.”

“That first week when I returned from a mission, I wouldn’t sleep. I spent my time watching you, shadows happy to play with you again—they’ve always liked you more than anyone else. But you know that now, don’t you.”

As if listening in—which they very well might have been—the darkness writhes at your back, cresting over your shoulders and cupping your breasts delicately, swiping over your lips as you tip back into them.

“Sometimes it was nearly impossible to pull them off you. They would constrict around your thighs, tighten around your hips so you were secure beneath them. I quickly lost count of how many times they would want a turn with you, so I would let them,” he breathes, and you can feel that coil on the verge of snapping, heat sizzling beneath your skin as you squeeze him desperately. “You responded so beautifully to their kind of stimulation. And I would watch all of it.”

“Admittedly, I was a little careless. But you never noticed, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I was a little sloppy here and there. If I got you a little messy, too.”

“It was rare I would be gone for longer than three or four months at a time, but when those longer missions called, I would rush back to you the moment I could.” A twinge of pain has entered his voice, thinking back on how long he had to keep his love for you a secret. How you were carefully shielded from it. For years. Decades.

“And sometimes I didn’t want you to wake clean of any marks of my own. If you weren’t even going to remember, then I might as well leave some trace,” he laughs sharply, arousal dumbing your mind as his words begin to mellow out. “But those never bothered you either. Not the bite marks, or the bruises, or the ache when you thought you hadn’t taken anyone to bed that night. Not even when you woke to find cum between your legs. Or a faint taste in your mouth.”

He sighs, bucking his hips softly, and you exhale heavily.

“Did you ever fuck me?” You breathe, tightening around him at the thought. “While I was asleep, I mean. Did you ever take me before I knew you?”

Azriel shakes his head, smiling now. “No, lovely girl. I wanted to save that for you. I wanted to be with you, and for you to be fully aware when I first went inside of you. And it was torture waiting. It was cruel to make me wait all those years. All that time, and yet you never picked up on that other scent that would consistently turn up on you. Maybe you grew accustomed to it.”

Teeth push into your lower lip, and you tuck your legs back under you, once again able to move.

“The first time I had you…I’ll never forget it,” he groans, hand releasing yours in favour of gripping your hips. “You screamed so sweetly. Begged me to stop, like you hadn’t been asking for it for decades. How you were able to scream at me to stop when your legs would practically fall open for me…” he laughs, and you buck over him, quickening the pace of your swirls.

“You took me as well as I knew you would,” he groans, hands helping you rise and fall on his cock. “Took everything perfectly. Even my blade.”

Your eyes roll back, and you allow him to take control, gripping your hips tight to pound in to you. “It was just supposed to warm you up. To stretch you out so we could both enjoy it when I entered you… But then you reacted so well to it, and you had to have an orgasm before you took me. And you looked so fucking edible.” He grits out the words, and your hips stutter, jerking as pleasure brims at your lashes.

“Azriel…” you pant, tears spilling as he hits those beautiful spots, making you bounce on him. “You looked so fucking good I couldn’t believe it. And you felt even better.”

You clamp down on him, taking each buck of his cock as he drives up into you, mind going blank except for his name playing on repeat in your head. Filled with only him entirely. Nothing else would fit inside you anymore. It has to be him.

Hot cum spurts inside, and you can only imagine the mess he’s made in your heat.

How full he’s pumped you; how deep his release is.

How deep he’s burrowed his way inside of you.

Hips slow to a relaxed pace, grinding down onto him, keeping him tucked away inside of you. Refusing to release a single drop as you continue fluttering around him lightly.

Words are far out of reach, but he collects you as you sway forward, blinking away drowsiness as you settle on top of him, nestling into his chest. Nosing at his throat, licking up his flavour.

Azriel laughs quietly from deep in his chest, and it twines with his heartbeat. “You’re perfect…you know that?” Warmth fills your heart as his arms wrap around you, shadows pulling the blankets to cover you, despite being the wrong way up in the bed. What does it matter when he’s around?

“I’m perfect if you’re perfect,” you mumble back, hardly succeeding in keeping your eyes opened.

He doesn’t respond, but you can feel his heart, can hear how it picks up speed, and you know he’s happy.

Hot lips brush your head, pressing kisses into your hair as he keeps it from your face. You burrow into him deeper, pulling the sheets closer as you roll off to his side.

Azriel squeezes you again, making sure you’re as close as can be.

Neither of you would want it any other way.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

#Azriel #Dark!Azriel #acotar #Azriel smut #Azriel x reader #Azriel x reader smut #dark fic #dark!Azriel smut #dark!azriel x reader smut #[***]#Stockholm Syndrome #October

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bossbtch1 · 5 months

Text

Golden Boy of America

Summary : What if Steve Rogers wasn't the revered symbol of American virtue that everyone believed him to be? Contrary to the public perception of his kindness and charm, you've come to realize it was all a façade. Now, you find yourself in a nightmarish scenario—kidnapped and bound, questioning everything you thought you knew about the man once hailed as the golden boy of America.

Pairings : Dark!Steve Rogers x f!reader

Words : 6,9k

General tags : SMUT, 18+, NSFW

TW : dark fic, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, degradation, non-con, dirty talk, oral sex, smut, vibrator, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, rough sex, p in v, overstimulation, breeding kink, forced impregnation

A/N : This has been sitting in my drafts for a while, and I've been going back and forth, tweaking the story to add a darker twist. I've always felt like there's more beneath the surface of Captain America's heroic façade, he did good and sacrificed everything for the world. What if he's not as perfect as he seemed? And you had to be the one who found out about his true side, his dark side. That's the premise of this one shot, enjoy~

Before you continue, please read TW again. This is a dark!fic and explicit, strictly for readers 18+. I don't condone any of this kind of thinking in real life, this is purely fan fiction. Please, DO NOT PROCEED if these themes disturb you. Please don't read if this content is not your cup of tea, you've been warned.

My masterlist

The sound of a car door slamming shut is the last thing you remember before everything went black. A dull ache in your head is what you first felt when you woke up.

When you open your eyes, you find that your hands and legs are bounded by rope and tape, the coldness of the floor and walls send shivers down your spine. It takes a few seconds for you to process the situation you were in. The first thing that came into mind was where you were, who did this and why? Your memories were all a blur, you can't remember how you got into this predicament.

You hear a door open from somewhere, it echoes in the empty space, making the hairs on your arm stand up. You start to feel anxious and scared as your heart beats loudly. "Hello?" You say and the voice bounces off the walls, not knowing who was behind this.

"Good, you're awake now." A familiar voice speaks out, walking into the room. Your eyes widen in shock, mouth agape.

"S-Steve? W-What's going on? Why am I here?" You ask him, fear evident in your voice. Steve doesn't answer and stares at you blankly. He's standing right in front of you. "Answer me!" You demand but he remains silent, only looking at you.

"You don't have the right to tell me what to do." He said with a dark expression.

"What the fuck, Steve!" you said as you were tied to a chair. The ropes were tight enough to not get out of but loose enough so it doesn't hurt. "Let me go, Steve, you bastard!"

He was standing in front of you with his arms crossed and a stoic expression. His jaw was clenched tight and he looked like he was going to kill someone.

"Why should I? So, you can escape and go tell on me? Tell everyone what a bad man I am? Huh?" Steve said as he walked up to you and grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. "You know I can't let you do that."

He kept you in a small bedroom. The wallpaper was torn, revealing the rotten wood behind it. A single bed and a rickety drawer stood as the only furnishings. The window had its shutters closed, allowed no glimpse of the outside world and there was only a single light bulb illuminating the room. It gave a very eerie feeling.

"Steve, let me go." You said in a low voice.

"I can't do that." He said, running his fingers through his hair. "If I do, they will find me and put me in jail."

"Steve, they will not find you. I swear I won't tell anyone." You said as you tried to get up. But Steve came up and pushed you back to the chair.

"Stop. Fucking. Moving." He said in a menacing tone. "You're not the boss here. I am." He said.

"Do you think you can just imprison me like this?" you shouted, your voice cracking with frustration. "What you're doing is cruel and inhumane!"

A chilling smile crept across Steve's lips as he retorted, "Oh, I can, and I will. You're not the first, and you won't be the last. I have my reasons, and I won't let you ruin everything I've worked for."

Your voice trembled with shock and disbelief, "What do you mean I'm not the first? There were others before me? What happened to them? Who are you?!"

"I've always been Steve Rogers, the same person you met and fell for. As for the others, they were my mistakes, and I fixed them." Steve replied in a casual tone as if talking about the weather. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you won't have to worry about that. I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"What happened to them?" you asked, feeling the blood drain from your face.

"That's none of your concern, sweetheart. You don't need to worry about them. All you need to worry about is obeying me."

You couldn't believe that the man in front of you was the same person you'd known. "I will not obey you, Steve."

He laughed as he sat on the bed, "You’re not the Steve I know. You're fucking insane! You're no hero!" You screamed at him, "I saw you kill that man, Steve. You took his life without a shred of remorse."

He shook his head. "Y/N it was necessary. He was a criminal, and it was self-defense."

"No it wasn’t!" you raised your voice. “You had other options, you could have spared his life, but you didn't. You killed him because you're a psychopath!"

He ignored your statement and said, "I told you, you should have never followed me. You've made this very hard for yourself." He crossed his arm, "I warned you, I tried so fucking hard so you wouldn't see any of this, but you just had to follow me."

He was right, if you listened to him and didn’t follow him, you wouldn’t end up like this. You didn't know how to respond.

"How do I know you're not going to kill me next?"

"Oh, please, if I was going to kill you, I would have done it the minute I brought you here." He said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, why would I kill you when you could be so much more useful to me alive."

"Useful?"

"Yeah. I could use some help." He said as he walked closer to you.

"What kind of help?" you asked.

He smirked and licked his lips. "The fun kind."

"Steve, what are you talking about?" you asked, fearing the answer.

He leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I'm sure you'll be a good girl and obey."

You didn't like where this was going. "Steve, please let me go." you whispered, trying not to cry. You were scared, you were tied to a chair and no one knew where you were. You were scared of what Steve was going to do to you.

"You're begging already?" He laughed dryly. "It hasn't even been 20 minutes."

"Please." You sighed and tried to break free from the ropes. "You can't keep me here, Steve. Please"

"I can do anything I want." he whispered, his face getting closer to yours. You tried to lean back, but there was no room. You could feel his breath fanning over your face. You shut your eyes.

"You don't want to do this, Steve." You said.

"Don't I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Because it seems like I do."

"Please..." You opened your eyes, you had tears forming in them. You were scared, he could do anything he wanted to you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

"You look so pretty when you beg, you know that?" he said, his face inches from yours.

"Steve, don't do this. Please" You begged.

He ran his fingers over your cheek and wiped away the tear that was threatening to fall. "Shame that it had to be like this."

"Steve... I-I promise I won't tell anyone." you whimpered, flinching at his touch. You didn't want him to touch you.

He shook his head. "You've seen what I did."

"It was an accident. We can get out of this," you pleaded, your voice laden with desperation, seeking any flicker of empathy in his eyes.

"No. We can't. This was inevitable. Don't worry, sweetheart. You're going to love it here," Steve declared with an unsettling certainty, his tone almost comforting, as if he genuinely believed the twisted reality he was creating.

"Steve, please. You can't keep me here. If not for you, at least do it for our friendship. Please, let me go"

"This will be the last time you beg, Y/N. I will not repeat myself. You're not going anywhere. This will be your new home"

"It won't be," you insisted, defiance laced with fear.

"You'll see, in time, you'll change your mind." Steve's response echoed through the room, the unsettling assurance leaving you with a sinking feeling of dread as the realization set in that escape seemed increasingly improbable.

The room seemed to close in, the peeling wallpaper and the flickering light bulb casting eerie shadows that danced around the space, creating an atmosphere of both captivity and impending menace.

Your hand struggled against the rope as you watched him. Your eyes wide and frightened. "You see, my sweet Y/N. I've got my eye on you for quite a while. Maybe after I've had my fun with you, I'll consider letting you go. Who knows" he smiled at you, his hand caressing your lips. You felt sick.

"Don't you dare touch me" you hissed, jerking your face away from him. His eyes flashed with anger for a second before it was gone.

"You don't have a choice" he chuckled. He took hold of your jaw and brought his face closer to yours, his lips a breath away. "I will enjoy making you scream and beg for mercy."

You felt his hands trail down your neck and down to the top of your shirt. He looked up at you before ripping your shirt open, making the buttons fly across the room. You gasped as you felt the cool air hit your skin. You were left in your bra, the thin lace fabric the only thing protecting you.

"Don't"

"Don't what?" He grinned and pulled your bra straps down, exposing your breasts. You tried to cover yourself but you couldn't. You were still tied to the chair, and he was stronger than you.

"Please. Just stop" You felt tears roll down your cheeks.

"Oh, honey. This is just the beginning" He took one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it, making you gasp in pain. He leaned down and took your other nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. You squirmed under his touch, trying to push him away, but he held onto your wrists and kept you in place.

"Stop! Please, Steve. I'm sorry!"

"No. I don't think you're sorry" he growled as he moved to your neck and bit down. He sucked on the sensitive skin, making sure he left a mark.

"Stop!" you exclaimed, trying to push him off you. He chuckled at your efforts, then next he was moving his hands down your waist and stopping at the top of your jeans.

"Now, be a good girl and stay still. Wouldn't want to ruin such pretty underwear, now would we?" he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down. Your breathing sped up and you started to squirm.

"Steve, stop, please, I'm sorry, just let me go, please" you pleaded, tears pricking your eyes. You couldn't believe that he was doing this.

"Stop with the dramatics, princess. It won't change a thing. Just sit back and enjoy, it'll feel better if you relax" he cooed, pulling your jeans down to your ankles. You felt a sob escape your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes looking hungry and lustful.

"Please, don't do this, Steve, please"

"Shh, princess, I'm going to make you feel good, okay? But, first, I gotta take these off" he murmured, reaching for your panties. Your breathing stopped, and you felt yourself shake.

"Steve" you whimpered, shaking your head. Tears were falling down your face, and Steve was wiping them away.

"Such a pretty sight. You're gonna look so pretty covered in my marks" he whispered as he leaned down and started to suck on your neck. You let out a strangled moan as you tried to move your head away from him.

"Get off, you creep" you groaned, trying to kick him away. He didn't seem fazed and just held your hips down. He was much stronger than you, and the more you struggled, the harder his grip became.

"That's it, baby. Squirming like a little slut" he murmured, moving his hand down and under your panties. You shook your head frantically, trying to kick him away again.

"Don't touch me, please" you begged, closing your legs tightly. He looked up at you, his blue eyes darkening with lust. "Steve, get off me!"

"You know, I've seen the way you've looked at me. Like a piece of meat" He was right, you couldn’t lie, you were attracted to him ever since you first saw him. Who wasn’t attracted to him? He was kind and gentle. Even right now after you found out who he really was, you still feel attracted to him. You knew you shouldn’t be.

“You’re disgusting!” You spat in defiance, you were in denial.

"You say that now, but I'll have you screaming my name"

"I'll never scream your name, you pervert."

"We’ll see about that, princess.” he murmured, kissing down your stomach. You shivered as you felt his warm breath fanning over your stomach. You didn't want him this close.

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but why are you already wet huh?” You were shaking your head, trying to get him to stop. But it felt so good.

Steve then chuckled as he moving his fingers in circles on your clit. “You don’t want me but you sure are wet, darling. So, what is it, hm? Tell me, are you wet because you want me or is it something else?” He pushed a finger inside of you, making you gasp. He began pumping his finger in and out, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Fuck. I've always wondered what you would feel like. So tight and warm." He continued pumping his finger in and out of you, and you tried to hold back a moan. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he was pleasuring you.

"Scream my name, princess."

"Never." You said through clenched teeth.

"That's fine, sweetheart, I can do this all day." He smirked.

You could feel his finger moving inside of you, hitting the spot that made your legs tremble. You tried to hold back a moan, but he knew what he was doing.

"Oh fuckkk," you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"That's right, princess, be a good girl for me" he groaned, moving his fingers inside you. You moaned, feeling him thrust his fingers in and out. He moved his lips back to your neck, biting and sucking. He added another finger and curled his fingers inside of you.

You let out a small moan, and he smirked. "Come on, princess, you can do better than that."

He added a third finger and thrust them faster, making your hips buck. He was moving his fingers faster and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer.

You couldn't stop the moans from escaping. Your body betrayed you.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you, and you felt a pressure building up.

"P-please, st-stop, I don't- I don't w-want" you whispered, a sob escaping your throat. His eyes were dark and hungry, and his movements became rougher.

"What, princess, don't wanna have some fun?"

"No, I-I don't want th-this"

"Stop lying to yourself, princess.” He said as he kissed your cheeks. “You're so pretty like this, Y/N. All vulnerable and defenseless"

"I'm not-"

"Oh, baby, I know. But don't worry, I'll make you feel so good."

"Fuck, Steve"

"That's right, baby, moan my name. You sound so beautiful." He laughed and continued thrusting his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut as his fingers went deeper, hitting your g-spot.

"Beg me, princess. Beg me to make you come.” he said, moving his fingers faster. Your breathing sped up as he added a third finger, stretching your hole.

"Screw you!" You refused to beg him, not giving him the satisfaction.

"You will. You'll beg me to make you come, and then you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll beg me to use your body until I've had my fill."

You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. He began rubbing your clit again, causing your legs to shake. You could feel your climax approaching, and you didn't know whether to be relieved or scared. "I can feel how close you are. Say it, princess. Beg me."

Then when you were about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You wanted to cry. "No!" You panted, trying to catch your breath.

"Not yet, princess. You know what I want, princess. Tell me." He purred, licking his fingers clean. You knew what he wanted, you still refused.

He laughed. "You're really gonna make me do this, aren't you?"

You were so confused. You didn't know what he meant. "You're gonna make me show you just how bad you need this."

He got up from the bed and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and reached inside, pulling out a bag.

"What is that?" you asked, nervously.

He turned and looked at you. He opened the bag and pulled out a long, thin, pink vibrator. Your eyes went wide, you began to tremble. You were terrified. He was going to use that on you.

He held the vibrator up to your face and pressed a button, making it hum. You shook your head at him, "Steve No!"

He walked back over to you and crouched down in front of you. He ran his hand down your thigh, before spreading your legs, "Such a pretty pussy, princess." he murmured, tracing a finger along your folds.

He put the vibrator between your legs, pressing it against your clit.

"Fuck! Don't!" you moaned, trying to get away. He grabbed your hair and pulled you closer to him. "Oh, princess, you're gonna cum on this. Then, you're gonna cum on my cock. And, after that, you're gonna beg me for more."

You let out a sob as he pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting close again. "Please, Steve."

He pressed the vibrator against your clit harder, making you moan. You didn't want him touching you there, but you couldn't stop the pleasure. "Tell me what you want, Y/N"

"Steve, I can't. I don't want it, I can't, please"

"But, you do, princess. You're already wet for me. You want this."

You shook your head, trying to get away from the vibrator. He held onto your hips, keeping you still. He leaned forward and licked your nipple. He sucked your nipple, making you arch your back.

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator, causing your hips to buck. He let go of your nipple and moved the vibrator lower, rubbing it against your entrance.

"Fuck! Stop, Steve. I-I can't. It's too much!"

"Oh, baby, this is nothing. Just wait until I start fucking you."

You were getting closer, the pleasure almost unbearable. "Steve, please. Stop. Please. I can't. I'm gonna-"

He turned up the intensity of the vibrator. "Say it. Or I'll make this last even longer. I'll keep you here all night, and the whole time, I'll be inside you."

You moaned and closed your eyes. "Please… Steve…”

He chuckled. "I like hearing you beg, princess." He turned the vibrator off and moved it back up to your clit. He slowly pushed it into your tight cunt.

"I can't…."

He smirked, "Oh, baby, we've just gotten started."

He turned the vibrator on and fucked you with it. You arched your back and moaned. He grabbed your hair and pulled you up. You let out a whimper as he kissed you, hard. He pulled away and licked your neck. "You're such a slut for me, princess. You will love it when I fuck you."

You shook your head, trying to get him to stop. "Please, Steve. Stop."

He ignored you, thrusting the vibrator deeper inside you.

You were about to cum when he suddenly pulled the vibrator out. "Steve, please, I need-"

Everytime you were close to cum, he would turn the vibrator off, making you frustrated and horny. "I can do this all day, princess."

You couldn't take it anymore, "Please Steve! Please let me cum, I can't take it anymore, please" You cried, tears streaming down your cheeks. You really needed to cum so bad, he was edging you so hard.

You hated yourself for begging him. He kept the vibrator pressed against your clit, and with his other hand, he began fucking you with his fingers again.

He grinned, "What's the magic word?"

"Please…."

"Wrong answer, princess." He chuckled and stood up. He turned the vibrator on and started walking towards you. He held the vibrator against your clit and rubbed it in slow circles. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs."

You took a deep breath and slowly spread your legs, revealing your dripping cunt. “Good girl.”

"Yes, oh god, Steve, please." You were moaning and panting, trying to hold off your orgasm, but he was making it impossible. "I can't hold back much longer, Steve, I'm so close. Please don’t stop." You were moaning, you didn’t care for anything, you needed to cum.

But the moment you were about to cum, Steve stopped again, and removed the vibrator.

"Steve! No! Fuck!" You screamed, tears pricking your eyes. "What the fuck! Let me cum!"

He laughed, "So desperate. How long has it been since someone touched you like this? I can tell by your reactions that it's been a while." He turned on the vibrator again, “You will cum on my cock, now beg me to fuck you."

You were shaking, crying, "Fuck you, Steve. I'm not doing that."

He laughed, "Oh, I think you will. You're so desperate, Y/N, so close to the edge. You'll do anything to cum." He slowly undid his pants and stroking his cock in front of you.

Your eyes widened as you stared at his length, you didn't think it was possible for a man to have such a huge cock. But, the sight of him stroking his cock was making you even wetter, and you couldn't help but want him to fuck you.

"Tell me you want me, tell me how much you want my cock."

"Steve, no. Please." You tried to close your legs, but he put the vibrator between them, spreading your lips and pushing the vibrator inside.

"If you don't, I'll just leave you here. Alone. Unsatisfied."

You were quiet, you shouldn’t want him, you should hold a little longer but he was being so good to you. It had been long since a guy made you felt like this.

"Come on, princess. Tell me you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want me inside you. Tell me how bad you want my cock." He grinned as he kissed your clit, “I’ll give you as many orgasms as you want. I’ll fuck you better than any guy you know. I’ll make sure you will never be more satisfied than being with me again."

His words sent it toward your clit, you clenched your pussy hearing him said that. You were frustrated, sobbing, you needed release, and you didn't care about anything. You were going to beg.

You caved in, "Fine! Fuck me, Steve. Please fuck me. I need your cock, please!"

He leaned forward and kissed you. He bit down on your bottom lip, and you gasped. He chuckled, "I bet you'd let me do anything right now, wouldn't you, princess?"

He turned the vibrator back on and started fucking you with it. You were crying and moaning, begging him to let you cum. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "Fuck, please, Steve, fuck. I'm so close, I'm gonna cum. Fuck."

"Cum for me, princess.”

You came screaming, your whole body convulsing. You were shaking and sweating, your body aching from the pleasure.

He turned off the vibrator and pulled it out of you. He kissed your cheek, "Such a good girl. I'm so proud of you, princess."

You were panting, trying to catch your breath. "I hate you."

"You don't mean that, baby. You're just a little overwhelmed. It's okay."

You looked at him, his eyes were soft and gentle, but you knew he was crazy. You were still tied up, helpless, and completely at his mercy. He was going to use his large cock to fuck you, and you couldn't do anything to stop him.

"Don't worry, princess, I'll take care of you. I promise."

He started to untie you and you were confused. Was he letting you go? You tried to scramble to ran away from him but you didn’t get far, he wrapped his arms on your waist lifting you. “Steve! Put me down now!”

He ignored you and brought you back to the bed. He put you down and pinned you, using his body weight to keep you still. "Don't think this changes anything."

He kissed you, hard and hungry. You tried to push him away but it was useless, he was too strong. "Fuck, baby, you taste so good." He kissed down your neck, biting and sucking as he went. He stopped at your breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and the other in his hand.

"Steve, please..."

"You want me to stop, Y/N?"

"Yes!"

"Well, that's too bad. Because I'm not stopping until I'm finished with you. And you're gonna love every minute of it. You're my girl, Y/N. I'm never letting you go.”

"No, please...don't...stop...don't hurt me, Steve."

He smirked, "I'm not going to hurt you, baby. I'm going to make you feel good."

He let go of your wrists and reached down between your legs. You gasped as his fingers found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. "God, you're so wet. So wet and ready for me."

"Stop..."

"No. I'm not stopping, princess. You're going to come for me, just like you did with the vibrator. And then, I'm going to fuck you. I'm going to fuck you all night long."

You tried to wiggle away from him, but it was no use. He was too strong. You tried to kick him, “Princess.” He warned, you stopped your movement, his tone made you scared.

He then smiled, “Good girl.”

You were trapped, at his mercy. He was going to hurt you, he was going to fuck you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were his.

He slipped a finger inside of you, moving it in and out slowly. "Fuck, baby, you're so tight. You're gonna feel so good on my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you even more. He kept pumping them in and out of you, making sure to hit your g-spot every time. You could feel another orgasm building.

"Oh God...oh fuck, Steve...please..."

"Please what, baby? Do you want me to stop?"

"No...don't stop...fuck, Steve..."

"Tell me, Y/N. Tell me what you want."

"I want...I want you to fuck me."

"You're such a dirty girl, Y/N. You're gonna come for me, aren't you?"

"Yes...oh God, Steve...yes...I'm gonna cum." He fucked you faster, harder, his fingers pounding into you. You couldn't hold back anymore, you threw your head back and screamed his name as you came, your whole body shaking with pleasure.

"Fuck, that's it, baby. You’re so beautiful, princess.” He didn't stop, he kept fucking you, his fingers buried deep inside you. You couldn't believe how good it felt, you had never been fucked like this before.

He kept rubbing your clit, prolonging your orgasm. You were panting and moaning, trying to catch your breath. "That's it, princess. That's it. Just like that."

He moved down and spread your legs wide open. "Fuck, baby. You're so fucking wet."

He licked your slit, tasting your juices. You moaned as he lapped at your folds, sucking and licking like his life depended on it.

He pulled back and looked up at you, "You taste so fucking good, baby. I could eat you all day long."

"Oh, god...please, Steve..."

"Please, what, princess? You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, please, fuck me, Steve."

"Fuck, I love when you beg, princess."

His cock was rock hard, the tip leaking precum. He grabbed the base and stroked it a few times before positioning himself between your legs. He lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your folds, coating it in your wetness. "Fuck... Steve… It's not going to fit."

"It'll fit, princess. I promise." He slowly pushing inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. It hurt, but the feeling of him stretching you was incredible. He was so big and you felt so full. "God, you're so tight, Y/N. So wet. Do you like my cock, baby? Do you like the way it feels?"

"Oh god, Steve. So full." You moaned.

He started moving, thrusting into you. The pace was slow and steady, letting you get used to his size. "God, you feel so fucking good, princess. So fucking good."

It hurt at first, but the pain soon turned to pleasure. You were moaning, begging him for more. "Steve...faster..."

He grinned, "You want it faster, baby? You want me to fuck you faster?"

"Yes...please...faster..."

He quickened his pace, pounding into you. He grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Fuck, yes, Steve!"

"That's it, baby. Scream my name. Scream my name as I fuck you."

"Oh, god...yes...please, Steve... harder!"

He groaned and started slamming into you, fucking you hard and fast. "Fuck, baby. You're such a slut, begging me to fuck you harder."

You were lost in pleasure, moaning and screaming his name. "That's it, baby. Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you."

"So good, Steve...it feels so good...I love you fucking me, Steve."

"Yeah, you do, don't you? You love being fucked by me huh?" He growled and pounded into you, harder and faster.

"I love it...please, Steve, more..." He felt so good inside you, you should've hating him, but all you wanted was more. You shouldn’t want him but fuck no one ever fucked you this good. "Yes, Steve, oh god, yes. Please fuck me."

"Yeah, baby, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you hard. I'll fuck you until you can't walk." He began thrusting his hips, fucking you hard and fast. He sped up his thrusts, slamming into you harder and deeper. You were lost in the pleasure, not caring about anything else. All that mattered was him and how good he made you feel.

You were so close, you could feel your orgasm building. "Steve...I'm gonna come."

"Yeah? You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, you are. You're gonna come all over my cock. You're gonna come for me, baby. Come on, princess. Come for me." He then went to sucked your neck and then bit it, hard. "Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself come. Rub that fucking clit while I fuck you."

You obeyed, reaching down and rubbing your clit. It only took a few seconds before you were coming, screaming his name and digging your nails into his back.

"Fuck, yes, princess. That's it. Come for me."

You were coming down from your high and he was still pounding into you

You moaned and came, your body shaking with pleasure.

He didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm, prolonging it. You were so oversensitive and it was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up. "Oh, God, yes, Steve!" He slammed back into you, his pace relentless. "You like that, princess? You like me fucking you?"

"Yes! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop!"

He reached around and rubbed your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come for me, princess. Come for me again. I want to hear you scream."

You were close, you could feel your orgasm building again. He pinched your clit and that was it. You came, screaming his name. He continued to fuck you, not slowing down at all.

"God, I love it when you scream, princess. Keep screaming for me."

You were barely coming down from your orgasm and he was already pushing you towards another one. You couldn't take it, it was too much. You were oversensitive and it was almost too much. He leaned forward and kissed your neck, whispering in your ear, "That's it, baby. Take my cock. Take it all."

"Steve, please...it's too much...it's too much..."

"Shh, princess. I know. I know. But you can take it. You can take it, can't you, baby?"

"Yes..."

"Yeah, I know. I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back. "Now, say it. Say you're my good girl."

"I'm your good girl."

"Fucking right you are." He said and went to fondled your breast while he pounded into you, his pace unforgiving. His trusts became erratic, you knew he was close.

Then you remember, he didn't wear a condom and you weren’t on birth control. "Please pull out! Don't come inside of me, please! I’m not on birth control!”

He stopped, but didn't pull out. "You're kidding, right? What's the point in fucking you if I don't come inside of that tight pussy of yours? I'm gonna fill you up, make you mine."

You started to panic. "Please, you'll get me pregnant. Please don't come inside of me."

"No, you're mine now. And I'm gonna breed you, just like you deserve. You're going to give me what I want and you're going to take it."

"Please, don't come inside of me." Your breath came in gasps, you couldn't hold back your moans anymore, even though you were crying. You tried to push him off, but he didn't let you, didn't stop fucking you.

"Please, please don't. I'll do anything you want. Please just pull out, I'll let you fuck me every morning. I'll be your good girl, please just not inside." You were sobbing now, but your cunt was dripping.

“Your body says otherwise, princess.” He picked up his pace again. Fuck, you like this, don't you? You're so wet. You want to have my babies, don't you? Fuck, yeah, you're a good girl, begging for my cum."

He felt you trying to pull away and he slapped your ass, hard. "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're going to stay here and take my cock. I’m gonna fuck a baby into you." He moaned, his thrusts were becoming more desperate, his hand left your waist and moved to your clit, rubbing hard.

You whimpered and he slapped your ass again. "Don't fight me, princess. Just let go and enjoy it. You're already mine, and now you're going to have my baby. We're going to have a family, Y/N. You're not leaving me."

You gave up, your body submitting to him. He was in complete control and there was nothing you could do. He kept fucking you, going even faster and harder. "There you go, baby. That's it. Let me take care of you."

Your pussy started to contract and you screamed, a wave of pleasure rolling through you. "Yeah, fuck. I knew you'd like this. Fuck, you're squeezing me, that's it. Take it, take it all, be a good girl and take it."

He moaned and pumped into you harder, until his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed.

"Ahhhh!" You cried as he spilled his seed inside of you, filling your insides. He groaned at the feeling of you, warm and wet, squeezing around him. He let go of your wrists and wrapped both his arms around your waist.

When he was finished, he stayed inside of you, breathing heavily. "Fuck, that was great. Best sex I ever had."

When he pulled out, you felt his come dripping down your leg. "We can't waste this, can we?" He thrusted his finger into you, gathering his come. You were still shaking, not able to comprehend what just happened.

He shoved his finger into your mouth. "You'll be a good girl, won't you? Now clean my fingers.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, you were too exhausted to do anything, just opened your mouth and let him shove his fingers down your throat.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you and the baby." He whispered. "You'll be the perfect mom."

"Oh, no. We're not done yet." He grabbed your face with his clean hand, and pulled you into a kiss. He pushed his tongue inside of your mouth, tasting his cum. "You're such a good girl. Now, I'll give you a reward."

He got down on his knees and pushed your legs apart, then leaned forward, licking your clit. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive skin, but quickly bit your lip, trying to keep quiet.

He looked up at you. "Don't worry, honey. I love the sounds you make. So sweet. Keep making those noises for me." He moved his tongue over your clit, slowly, teasing.

He licked and sucked at your clit, while you moaned, the sensation almost too much. "I know you're sore, honey. But I wanna hear you come on my tongue. Be a good girl and come for me, can you do that?"

"Yes."

He continued sucking your clit, and moved his hand down to your pussy, pushing his fingers inside. He moved his fingers in and out of your pussy, slowly, but it was still too much.

"Please, Steve, make me come."

"That's my good girl." He moved his fingers faster, sucking harder, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your moans were louder, your whole body felt hot.

"Steve, oh god, oh god, I'm coming."

You felt him smile against your clit, his tongue moving faster, sucking and licking. Your moans became screams, your legs were shaking, you felt the pressure building in your belly, your whole body shaking. You came hard, squirting on his face.

"You taste so sweet." He got up from his knees, his cock hard again, and pressed it against your pussy.

"Please, not again. It's too much. I-I'm too tired. I can't...I don't have any more energy."

"I can give you energy, princess" He pushed into you, and you screamed, the feeling too intense. He pulled out and then slammed back into you, setting a brutal pace. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and moved his hips in a circular motion, the pressure in your belly building again.

You sighed, you didn't have any energy left. Steve had been non-stop ever since the day he took you, he didn't give you a single moment to rest. You were always filled with his cum. "You'll enjoy it, princess. You always do."

He started to thrust up into you, and you felt your orgasm building. "Oh, God, Steve!"

"That's it, baby, scream my name."

"Steve! Oh, God, Steve!"

You came, clenching around his cock. He groaned, and you felt him spill inside you, his hot cum filling you up. "Fuck, baby, you're so good."

He kissed you, and you could feel him getting hard inside of you again. "No, Steve, please. I can't..."

"Yes, you can, princess. I know you can."

He started to move again, and you knew you were in for a long night.

You couldn't help but moan, you could feel his thick length filling you up. His cum was still inside of you and it was a warm feeling. You were so tired and he could tell, "One more time, princess, and I'll let you sleep."

He was so big, and he hit all the right spots. You couldn't help but moan, it felt so good.

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his cum, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You moaned as he thrust deeper into you. He was so big and it felt so good. You were lost in the pleasure, forgetting about everything else. All that mattered was him and the way he made you feel.

"Say you want me to come inside of you."

"I want you to come inside of me, Steve."

“Beg me.”

“Please, Steve. I want your cum. Please fill me up.”

"Good girl." He kept his rhythm, the feeling of his cock inside of you was too much, but it was so good.

"Come for me, be a good girl and come for me."

Your body was shaking, you felt his cock throb and fill you up again, and then you were coming, your legs trembling, your moans loud.

"Fuck, yeah. You're such a good girl, so sweet, coming for me. So tight, fuck. Such a good girl."

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing as your orgasm washed over you. He held himself above you, watching your face, while he fucked you. His cock was still inside of you, twitching, the feeling so intense.

"And don't you forget it. You're mine, and no one else is gonna fuck you. Cause you're mine, and I'm gonna keep you pregnant, giving me all the babies I want."

You had been his prisoner for weeks now and he had fucked you so many times, you lost count. You were covered in his mark and seed, and he didn't let you leave the bed, he was obsessed with breeding you.

You didn't have a choice, he wouldn't let you go. He'd fuck you every day, until he had knocked you up. You didn't even want a baby, and he didn't care. He'd do whatever he wanted. You had no choice but to obey him. But he made you feel so good and gentle with you, you couldn't help but enjoy it.

You had given up, the police weren't going to find you. No one was. You were his prisoner, his plaything. And he was going to keep you forever.

But, in a twisted way, you didn't mind. Because he was always there for you, taking care of you, fucking you, loving you. You had never felt this way about anyone before. And deep down, you knew you were falling in love with him.

"I love you, Y/N. And I'm gonna take care of you, and our baby. Forever."

"I love you, too, Steve."

FIN

A/N : So what do you guys think? Let me know in the comments, I want to know about your thoughts!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #the winter soldier #captain america #steve rogers x y/n #dark!steve rogers #marvel x reader #steve rogers #dark fic #stockholm syndrome #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic

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bunnystalker · 3 months

Text

feline delight (18+)

albert finds you on the streets. too cute to pass up, he takes you home against your will.

a/n; sorry this took so long! hope it was worth the wait :D

cw; half-alive dove maybe eat, cat hybrid!reader, afab!reader, owner!wesker, kidnapping, captivity, stockholm syndrome, drugging, dubcon/noncon, body betrayal, leashing + collaring, reader doesn't wear underwear, manhandling, breeding kink, wesker likes seeing you in pain sorry, no prep (please prep irl), unsafe sex (p in v, clitoral stimulation, creampie, implied multiple rounds)

tags; @4inchfae @thatgirlgames @whiskers-my-beloved @icecream596

albert never had a penchant for pets, let alone a hybrid like yourself. bringing you in may have been the best thing he'd done in years. you needed a home desperately, regardless of how much you scratched and clawed at him when he'd carried you off to his research facility without so much as an introduction. you hear him rustle around in his pockets with one hand and then, the uncapping of something. before you can look at what it is, a fine needle pierces right into the muscle of your neck. your vision fades within seconds, and you stop scratching.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you didn't know what to expect, but waking up in a cage clean and clothed hadn't been on your list. you thought you'd surely be dead. but, there you were, with a black long sleeve shirt and skirt, thigh-highs adorning the better half of your legs, and a black leather collar around your neck. looking around, a small bell attached to your collar rings. not moments later, you hear footsteps. you look up at the man who has taken you in- tall, blonde, and very intimidating.

albert crouches before the kennel you're cowering in and looks you over as if he didn't get a good enough look when he bathed you. you hiss quietly and shrink into one of the corners furthest from him, cool metal digging into your back with each attempt to get further away.

behind his shades, his hazel eyes thoroughly examine you. the fear you give off is aromatic with a faintly sweet undertone of something more. gratefulness, perhaps. he did bathe you, clothe you, and put you in a very nice kennel of your own. your collar is a perfect fit, no less, and even though you didn't ask for any of this, it's more than you know what to do with. you've no bruises, no gashes, no injuries. how strange.

he's pondering what to say to get you to calm down. to trust him a little. maybe come out of the kennel, but that would be for later.

"hello." he places a gloved hand on the kennel's top rather carefully, so as not to startle you, and leans in just a bit. his voice is nicer than you would think. a bit nasally, sure, and the accent is cheesy, but he could read you the yellow pages and you wouldn't mind.

"…" your silence makes his jaw clench by a fraction. he'll have to fix that. for now, he'll ease you into things.

"what's your name, little one?"

"haven't got one." you rasp, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin atop them. ears flat against your head, your tail swishing- cautious and afraid, you are, and well within your rights to be.

he nods.

"we'll have to fix that, won't we?" he forces a little smile on his lips when you nod. you're not sure why you do when, two seconds ago, you'd have run off if the kennel door was opened. he's smart, he's thought this through. you're not leaving the kennel until you trust him, unbeknownst to you. your tail is ramrod stiff on the cushioned floor of your captivity, and at least he was kind enough to furnish it for you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

it's hard to trust him even though you know it would be smart to pretend.

he only lets you out to feed you, and from the start, he'd made it clear that if you tried to run, you'd be dead. at the same time, twice a day, he opens the cage for you to crawl out of. he extends his hand to you, looping his gloved fingers around your collar and guiding you to sit by his feet. he links a leather leash through the d-ring attached to your collar and walks you through his home, the environment sterile and hardly lived in.

it's when he puts you in his lap at the dining table and force feeds you that he fills the tense silence. the food itself is good, and you wonder if under different circumstances, you'd want him to be your owner. as you eat, he talks. you are, to some extent, grateful that he feeds you, even if he is only doing the bare minimum.

"have you been good, dear?" he asks, and you nod as per usual. it's rare that you decide to talk.

"good girl." he scratches the spot behind your ear, forcing you to lean into his hand and purr. he chuckles quietly. as he pets you, his stress melts away. you're so cute. a meek, naive little thing that he loves taking care of.

as dinner finishes, he picks you up and keeps you in his arms as he cleans up. you're silent, sedated by the drug he's put in your food, and you're bodering on falling asleep in his arms. a swell of pride of warms his chest as a little snore escapes you, followed by your tail wrapping around his arm.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

day by day, bit by bit, you miss him. he keeps you company when he's not at "work" or whatever that is, he talks to you, he pets you the way you like, and it's nice when you forget about how you got here. the only thing you've come to dislike is the lack of underwear. it's not that he can't afford some, it's that he enjoys your discomfort to a worrisome degree. he likes its easy access, even if he hasn't taken advantage of it (or you) yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

he comes around and you find yourself less defensive, thanks to your breeding cycle. you press your face against the bars of your enclosure.

"owner," you whine as he walks past, a spark igniting in your gut. his scent is stronger than it was this morning, and you're hyperaware of the growing warmth filling your body.

"yes, dear?" he stands at his closet, his back to you as he strips himself of his work clothes.

"can i come out?" you paw at the door of your cage, ignoring the rattling noise it causes.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting you stew in your silence for a moment as he finds something more casual to wear. you don't normally ask to come out- this is progress, proof of your trust.

"in a moment. let me get dressed, darling."

it's enough for you to stop whining. your tail swishes happily and your ears perk up when he approaches the cage in grey sweatpants and a black shirt and crouches down to undo the lock to the cage. you practically jump into his arms, purring loud when he wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

"thank you." you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. his smell, like poison, makes you dizzy with desire. the warmth is growing uncomfortable, your ears pinned flat against your head.

he hums in response as he strokes your hair, a purr emanating from the depths of your chest. the heat spreads the more he touches you, pooling between your thighs. he tries not to notice when you rub them together and mewl pathetically.

"is something wrong?" his voice is a match to the flame in your gut.

it's your turn to be silent, trying to even out your breathing despite the overwhelming urge to lean in and take a nice, long whiff of the pheromones he gives off.

"darling, answer me. you know better." he says in a more stern tone, looking down his nose at you.

"… i'm in heat." you state quietly, avoiding his gaze. if you could see his eyes, you're sure they'd be wide and a little bit dark.

"are you, now?" he hoists you up in his arms as he stands, his forearms just under your ass. you're bent slightly over his shoulder. "we'll need to remedy that, won't we, pet?" he chuckles. a chill runs down your spine. just what have you gotten yourself into?

he's not a mean lover, just a little rough. he sets you on his bed and pushes you down with a cold hand to your chest as he moves on top of you. anxiety cools your blood, makes it like ice pushing through your veins.

"wh-what are you…?" he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you, and kisses your cheek.

"i've been waiting a long time for this, darling. it would be wise to avoid making me wait more." there's a threatening undertone to his voice, the burn of discomfort making itself known in your shoulders. he wedges his knee between yours, forcefully parting your thighs so he can trail his hand up them, pinching here and there just to see you flinch, and smooth two fingers along your weeping slit. a hint of a smile makes itself known as you shudder, thighs parting wider to accomodate his hand. his cold digits stop at the very top, feeling for your puffy clit, and rubs slow, tight circles around it.

you hate that it feels good, and you hate yourself for having a breeding cycle. a soft moan leaves you at his light touch, your eyes locked on the hand rubbing your clit. he presses down a little firmer, eliciting a whine from you.

"look, doesn't that feel much better?" he croons, his voice low with his lips so close to your ear. reluctantly, you nod, and that earns you the reward of his fingers rubbing you a little faster. you squirm a little, trying to get more than just surface-level pleasure.

"words."

"y-yes. that feels good, thank you." a hint of malice laces through your tone, but you're grateful for what he's giving you. your face is on fire as only the pathetic wet noises from your cunt fills the air, and you (try to) hide your face in your hands, only to be met with a sharp slap to your cunt. you flinch, the pain subsiding after he continues playing with your cunt. your hands come down from your face and instead grab the sheets.

your stomach tightens, twists into a coil that winds tighter with every pass over your hardened clit. but you can't cum like this, not when your breeding cycle is ongoing.

"owner- p-please, need more." you whine, and albert kisses your cheek as a response, denying you of what you need.

"such a needy thing. fine. you'll get what you want." he takes his hand from your pussy and to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down rather impatiently, as well as his boxers. weeping, his cock is bright red at the tip from want (how long has he been hard for?) and large. you're worried.

he chuckles at your fear-stricken expression before grabbing your legs and pressing them against your chest.

"be a dear and hold these for me, hm?" he says, and you do as you're told. you hold your legs by the backs of your thighs, pressing them so your knees hit your chest. he strokes himself once, twice to the sight of you spread out for him, your cute cunt drooling. slick drips down your perineum, inviting him.

you watch him slot himself in place, the tip of his long cock dragging through your folds to bump your clit, making you gasp. your entrance clenches around nothing, a pitiful whine leaving you.

"greedy." he shakes his head softly as he lines himself up, and without warning, thrusts himself entirely inside you.

the stretch is worse than you imagined. you flinch away from him, but he grips your thighs and tugs you right back onto his cock. it hurts, and the burn is something you hadn't accounted for. tears prick at your lower lashline. he leans down, his frame practically engulfing yours, and kisses your cheeks.

"don't cry. struggling only makes it worse, you know." he coos, tapping your jaw. you nod softly and wrap your arms around his neck for support, sniffling as the tears trail down the sides of your face. to ease your discomfort, his hand works itself between the two of you again and thumbs at your clit, dulling some of the pain. another moment, and your tears have disappeared.

"y-you can move. m'okay." you mumble to albert's delight. he starts slow, mostly on your behalf, and hisses at just how tight you are around him as he thrusts shallowly into your aching cunt.

the moment you make a noise, he grips your thighs tighter and starts bullying his cock into you quite intensely. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every single harsh, downright mean, thrust. he's not doing this for you, and that becomes readily apparent. still, you can't deny that it feels good to be fucked.

albert's quiet, aside from small huffs and hisses of enjoyment. you're so wet, it's making a mess of his lower abdomen and thighs. the lewd slapping of skin on skin combined with your precious mewls and whimpers of pleasure spurr him on, his nails digging into your thighs. his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed.

"there- a-again, please!" you grab the hand not rubbing your clit and lace your fingers together as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, leaving you dumb on your owner's cock. he complies with your request, if not to feel you cum then just to see your pretty face when you do.

he bullies that spot relentlessly, to the point where some of his hair falls in his face. gummy walls squeeze and suck him in more, a loud cry leaving you as you reach your peak. slick gushes from your already crying pussy, thoroughly coating the both of your lower halves. it's dripping from you as he continues pumping into your hole, the schlick noise amplified now.

"w-wait- wait-" you grab the hem of his shirt, but he ignores your protests.

"we're not finished until my precious girl has her cunt filled with cum." he moves your hand away, forcing yourself further into the mating press he's got you in. you can feel every single inch, and how the throb of his dick indicates his climax. a few more sloppy, mean thrusts and he's spilling his seed into you. decidedly, it's a good feeling, and you need much, much more. your heat ceases momentarily, however, as he keeps his cock inside to ensure that nothing leaks out. your tail wraps around his thigh, the end flicking happily.

"i mean filled in every sense of the word, darling." he gathers some of your slick that's coating his lower abdomen on two fingers and pushes them in your mouth, watching with delight as you kitten-lick them clean. a dark grin forms on his pale lips, his length twitching at the sight. it's then that you really give in, that you decide it's better to be this way- fucked full of his cum and brainless. a familiar heat flares in your gut once more.

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tightjeansjavi · 6 months

Text

common tongue of your loving me

A/N: so, I first just wanted to say that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to engage with. This is a very dark fic with triggering themes that may be disturbing for some readers. This is dead dove do not eat. Please heed the warnings with caution. I understand that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but for my first truly dark fic, I feel pretty good about it. It’s taken months of personal healing for me to become comfortable with writing/engaging with these kinds of fics. That being said, it is important to remember that SA survivors often use dark fic to cope from their own traumatic experiences, but also, dark fics can be enjoyed by anyone and no explanation for enjoying them is needed! Reading and writing dark fic does not mean that you condone this type of behavior. Please be kind.

~word count: 9.1k~

Summary: Joel finds you wandering through his territory and decides that he’ll take you in to be his little lamb. You don’t go with him so willingly.

pairing | raider!Joel x f!reader

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!

Dubcon/noncon, the lines are blurred regarding to what the reader consents too, Joel is sick in the head, coercion, manipulation from both Joel and the reader, Stockholm syndrome vibes, he can kill easily you if he wanted to but he won’t, dom/sub, dark! Joel, feral! Joel, raider! Joel, rough unprotected sex, possession, degradation, age gap: Joel is 40 the reader is early 30’s, power imbalance, fear tactics, mind games, praise kink, pet names: little lamb and sir, rough unprotected piv, choking/breath play, knife kink, blood kink, voyeurism, hand job, mutual masturbation, cock warming, oral (male and female receiving) cum play, mutilation of a body part (not done to the reader) misogyny from Joel’s men, implied rape as threat/coercion, Joel is not a morally good person, touch deprivation, humiliation, graphic depictions of violence, submission on the means of survival, foul language, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

The Cordyceps Outbreak changed you in a plethora of ways. Survivor turned cold-blooded murderer; not of your own doing. Desperate times call for desperate measures after all. Your saving grace happened to be a man. Brooding in strength, a quick tongue, and an even quicker aim. Calculated movements built up over years of tireless days and nights enduring whatever hell-scape the world had to offer. Grit, stubbornness, chapped lips, aliquine nose, paired with a wicked grin.

“Y’lost?” Gruff, gravelly, never ending pit of deepness. Joel Miller was crouched down between what you believed was an inconspicuous hiding space. You caught wind days out that a group of raiders had been silently stalking you. You were alone, with a limited supply of weapons in your reach.

“No.” Your voice trembled as you clutched your precious pocket knife to your chest.

“That so? What’re you doin’ hidin’ back there?” His head cocked curiously as his boot scraped along the tattered floor of the long since abandoned gas station.

“None of your goddamn business.” You hissed, teeth gritted as your eyes squeezed shut.

“Cute.” He mused. “Take it that you’re alone then? Y’got anythin’ on ya?”

“Are you going to kill me, or not? Cause if so, just get on with us for both our sakes.” You nearly pleaded.

He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Ain’t gonna do that. Woulda dragged you outta there myself if that was the case. Besides, I enjoy it more when they run.” He spoke so casually you could feel your blood quickly turn to ice from his tone alone.

“What the hell do you want then? I have nothing to offer. Just some measly scraps, and a dull pocket knife.”

I’m gonna die. That’s it. It’s all over. All that fighting for fucking nothing.

“Ain’t that a shame.” You could feel the smirk rise on his face as bile tried to force its way up your throat. “You’re in luck, my dear. Feelin’ a bit generous. Been lookin’ for a pet. Someone to keep my bed warm at night. Clean my gun. Be at my side. The offer stands, but expires in approximately..” He looked around as if there was a working clock in sight, “one minute.”

“Wait, wait! Are you saying you want me to be your slave?! Fuck no! I’d–”

“Temper, I see. My slave? Not at all, darlin.’ You’ve got it all wrong. Ain’t gonna force ya, although, you were the one to stupidly go waltzing into raider territory. More specifically, my territory. So, you either swallow that fuckin’ tongue of yours and accept your fate, or i’ll let my men have their way with ya. N’trust me, doll. They’ll tear you apart the second they get their hands on you.”

“You sick fuck! I’m not going anywhere with you!” You pushed your body further between the two aisle shelves that had collapsed over.

“Ten.”

“You’re insane!”

“Nine.”

“Eight.” He droned with mock enthusiasm.

“C’mon, you ain’t got anywhere else to go. I won’t touch you unless you want me to. Don’t make this fuckin’ harder for yourself than it needs to be. My patience is runnin’ thin, and the clock is tickin’ away, little lamb.”

“I am not your little lamb, you fuckin’ monster!”

His eyes rolled in pure annoyance as you listened intently to the unmistakable clicking sound of his gun cocking.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

What other choice did you really have? Allow yourself to be violated, and god knows what else by this man’s men, or accept your fate and become his ‘pet.’ Just the thought alone sent a wave of nausea knocking through your system.

“Wait, wait! Please!” You nearly begged as you pulled yourself free from your hiding spot. You dropped your pocket knife to the floor with a clink as you held your hands above your head.

His smirk was nothing short of menacing as he took immediate notice to the terrified glassy look in your eyes.

“Don’t be frightened, little lamb.” He crooned

“You’re safe, and no harm will be done to you. However, my men will be deeply disappointed to hear that I have decided to take you as my own.”

God, this man was sick, but there was no turning back now. No escape route. No plan. No hope. Maybe he was just bluffing. Maybe his plan was to kill you when you’d least expect it. Maybe this was all just a game of cat and mouse for him; you being the helpless little mouse.

“You swear that you’re not going to touch me?” You eyed his outstretched hand warily.

“My darlin’ little lamb, you have my word. Although, I will have to pat you down. Y’know, to make sure you ain’t have anythin’ on ya. Oh, and don’t think I'm playin’ stupid either. Cus’ if you try’n kill me? I’ll make you wish that you had never been born. You have no idea what I am capable of, and my token of kindness only can stretch so far. Jus’ be good, and I won’t have to send a pretty thing like you six feet under. Got it?” His tone was sharp and straight to the point as his brow raised in your direction. You couldn’t even begin to fathom what this man was capable of.

You reluctantly took his hand as he hoisted you up from the grime infested floor. Not a second later did he have your back pinned securely against his broad chest as he held the sharp tip of your knife expertly against your jugular. All he would have to do was apply a tad bit of pressure in order to make a fatal incision. You could feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. His voice dropped an octave as he whispered, “Oh, and if you even think about tryn’ to run from me? I will hunt you down. Do I make myself crystal fuckin’ clear, little lamb?”

You struggled considerably in his constricting grip. A hiss slipped past your lips when the tip of the blade pricked your skin, blood beaded along the surface before slowly trickling down the column of your throat. “Fuck you, asshole.” You nearly whimpered when the blunt ends of his fingernails dug fiercely into your hips. He was unmoving like a mountain, or a slab of concrete. (whichever you prefer)

“That ain’t my name, little lamb.” He tuts before dipping his head down along the clavicle of your neck. His curls gently tickle your chin before you feel his hot tongue poke out and lick up the droplets of blood from your skin. You involuntarily inhaled a harsh breath as his lips harshly sucked on the entry wound. You heard a tiny grunt rumble up his chest before he uttered, tone thick and raspy, “It’s Joel.”

Joel fucking Miller.

His teeth nipped and scraped at your torn skin as his grip around you tightened. “Silly, silly, little lamb. You’ve gone and nicked yourself. Be good, and I’ll let you breathe.”

“Please, please let go of me, Joel. Please. You’re hurting me.” Your voice came out strained as you ultimately gave up on struggling in his steel-like grasp.

“There ya go. That’s a good little lamb.” He cooed as he loosened his grip around you. He had forgotten all about needing to pat you down as he slowly lowered your knife from its present position on your neck. He tucked it away in his own backpack for safe keeping. You were dumb to think that he’d let you have it back.

“Now that we’ve gotten the painfully hard stuff outta the way, y’can relax. So stiff.” He tsked as he nudged you forward. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not a complete barbarian. Got a cabin with workin’ plumbing! Imagine that.” He chuckled amusedly.

You were far from amused as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively as he nudged you forward. Your feet worked on autopilot as his domineering presence was close behind you. “That’s nice, Joel. I could frankly fucking care less where you live.” You snapped in a sharp quick tone.

“Oh? Well, perhaps you’d rather fuckin’ sleep outside, chained to a tree like a goddamn dog.” he snapped back, quicker than you had expected.

“Yeah?” You scoffed. “Well, maybe I would much rather be chained to a fucking tree than breathe the same disgusting air as you.” So much for not pushing this man's buttons.

He laughed, and you could feel his hot breath tickling the hair along the back of your neck.

“As tempting as that sounds, how am I supposed to protect you if you’re chained to a tree?” He was smirking rather sadistically. You couldn’t see his face, but you just knew he was grinning through his teeth. “Besides, wouldn’t you much rather sleep in a warm, cozy bed, little lamb? I bet it’s been awhile since you’ve experienced that kinda comfort, hmm?” He knew he was toying with you and it was becoming increasingly difficult to not stand your ground.

“I don’t need your protection. I don’t want anything to do with it, and for the love of God, would you stop fucking calling me little lamb?”

“Y’know, the more you fight this, the worse it’s going to be. You oughta be thankin’ me. Y’know why? I could fuckin’ take you right here, right now. I can shove you to the ground and have my way with you, little lamb. You can scream and cry all you want, but there’s not a goddamn thing you could do to stop me. You’re defenseless, and apparently missing quite a few marbles in that brain of yours. I suggest you shut the fuck up, and keep movin.’” In the midst of your quarrel, he had silently removed his gun from the holster around his hips, and you could feel the cool metal of the barrel pressing into the back of your neck.

You froze purely out of fear as your mouth went dry. No words fell from your once confident tongue as he nudged you forward once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He hissed.

You were in fact shocked to see that Joel and his men didn’t live in filth and grime like you expected. Even moreso, it didn’t appear that they had stowed away any prisoners in their camp. This newfound knowledge was both comforting, and unsettling. Joel’s cabin was the furthest from the rest of the group. Tucked away in a grouping of evergreens. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d think he was just some lone survivor too. You surveyed the surrounding area silently as he unlocked the front door. You could run..but how far would you manage to get? He’d hunt you down no doubt. Your body was already running off pure adrenaline. It had been weeks since you had a proper meal.

“Home sweet home.” He chimed as he gave you a rough jolt forward. Your legs nearly buckled from the surprised movement as you stumbled inside. The heavy wooden door swung shut as he locked it behind him.

“I imagine you must be starvin’ huh?”

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes as he slung his backpack along one of the hooks on the wall. “Uh-huh. You ain’t all that of a liar, little lamb. Look, if I were in your situation, i’d suck it the fuck up and be grateful for my generous hospitality. Y’wanna starve? Be my fuckin’ guest, but don’t say I didn’t try to feed ya.” He huffed as he strode past you, shoulder brushing yours roughly as he disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there dumbly in the middle of the entryway as you subconsciously scratched at your arm. “Hey..uh, Joel?” You sounded timid and unsure of yourself but given the present circumstances, that was to be expected.

His head peeked around the corner as he made eye contact with you. “Yes, little lamb?”

Can he fucking quit it with that nickname already?

“So, I was wondering if it was possible for me to uh–shower? I’ve been traveling for weeks and I just figured you probably wouldn’t want me stinking up your bed? Just want to make sure I'm being a good pet for you.” You nearly gagged from your compliant words, but if you played your cards right, maybe you’d make it out of this alive.

His slow growing smirk was a tell-tale sign that he was buying your faux submission. Ruthless or not, he was still a man at the end of the day.

“Sure. S’not a problem at all. Y’need help findin’ your way? Jus’ down the hall n’to the left. I’ll leave some clothes out for ya as well. Think you’ve worn those things to ruin.” He casually gestured to your tattered clothing.

“Yeah, well..beggars can’t be choosers now can they?”

“No, they can’t.” He agreed.

You stared at one another a moment longer before you padded off down the hall. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head until you turned the corner. You paused momentarily to listen for his footsteps. Only when you were convinced he didn’t follow you, did you finally release a shaky breath. Just be good, and you’ll get out of this one way or another.

Joel’s bathroom was insipid in decor, but that came as to no surprise. It’s not like he had any reason to embellish the space with flowers or any other domestic shit. At least the towels looked fairly clean, and the shower head looked durable. You could have shed tears of joy when you turned the faucet handle and a steady stream flowed through the shower head. The water had a slightly oxidized odor from the well, but it wasn’t ice cold; more like room temperature. You wasted no time to shred your thin layers of clothing and discard them to the cool tile beneath your feet. Your nipples pebbled and grew taught under the cooling stream of water along your skin. You feel the filth and grime slowly wash away and stain the water a murky brown color from the debris. You were pleasantly surprised to find a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo that was undoubtedly expired, but it would suffice.

The towel you wrapped around your body was a bit coarse and itchy from being utilized so many times. You kept your hand firmly wrapped around the front of the towel to prevent it from slipping down your still damp body. As you reached for the door handle you found shortly after that there was something blocking your ability to open it all the way. You took a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the inevitable..clothes? There just outside of the door, folded nicely in a pile, was a shirt and pants waiting for you.

Joel was busy putzing around the kitchen as he prepared a well-deserved meal for the two of you. He was already convinced that you were warming up to him (finally). Or, perhaps you were just too exhausted to put up a solid fight. Either way, he was going to continue to use his generous hospitality to his advantage. Match point.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice.” He mused from where he was standing as you appeared from down the hall.

“Shower was pretty decent.” You mumbled in response.

“Go on and make yourself at home.” He gestured to the small kitchen table with two handcrafted wooden chairs. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

“I already told you, I'm not hungry.”

“Still playin’ the stubborn game, are we? What happened to the whole ‘I want to be a good pet for you, Joel?’” he dropped the kitchen knife he was presently holding onto the countertop as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Why the hell would you think for a second that I'm going to trust you all of a sudden? I don’t want shit to do with your food.”

“Mmm. I see. S’you jus’ thought oh, i’ll just use his shower and shit will be all peachy keen? Sit your fuckin’ ass down at that table right now.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“Oh, gee. You’re too kind! Giving me somewhere to finally rest my fucking feet.” You muttered sarcastically under your breath as you plopped down onto the chair finally.

Seconds later a plate was placed down in front of you. The smell was absolutely mouthwatering. Seared venison, potatoes, gravy and bread. This was a real hearty meal that you could only dream of having. It reminded you of Sunday dinner’s back at your parents when you were struggling to pay your rent off every month. You’d have leftovers for days thanks to them.

You suspiciously eyed your captor as he took the seat across from you and began to indulge in the meal he had prepared. You remained skeptical as your arms crossed over your chest defiantly.

“It ain’t poisoned if that’s what you’re thinkin.’ Why the hell would I be eating poisoned food? Besides, how are you supposed to keep my bed warm if you’re fuckin’ dead, little lamb?” He grumbled as he pointed his fork in your direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe a sick fuck like you is into that sorta thing. You don’t actually expect me to believe that you have a moral compass, do you?”

“Oh, you’re right on the head with that one. Just below your feet I have bodies stashed for safekeeping. Oh, and some are buried out back in the woods. You’ll find bones scattered about the property.” he stated nonchalantly as he leaned over the table with his eyes locked on yours. “Y’know what I love most? I love it when they scream and beg for their pathetic little lives to be spared. They all try to escape, but they never get very far. I give them all a fair head start jus’ to give them that false hope that they’re going to make it out of this alive.” He stabbed a piece of venison with his fork before popping it into his mouth.

Your blood curdled like rotten milk as you went to push your chair back. You were startled from the sound of his knife being embedded into the wood with a harsh thud. “Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it.” He hissed.

“Are you fucking serious?! You have dead bodies under the fucking floorboards?! So, this was your plan all along?! Make me play house with you till you get bored and decide to butcher me?!”

“No.” he deadpanned. “I was not bein’ serious. But, since you think i’m some sick fuckin’ monster that stashes women away to murder them, I decided to play into your little scenario. Now, fuckin’ eat your goddamn food. Or by God I will fucking pin you down and shove it down your throat.”

You truly could not tell if he was bluffing or not, but by the darkened appearance of his pupils, your brain was literally screaming at you to just pick the fucking fork up and eat. So, that’s exactly what you did. Fuck, this was the best thing you tasted in a long time.

When the sun began to set and cast a soft orange glow through the cabin windows, your nerves were on high alert when you faced the realization that you’d have to sleep in the same bed as this man. Your plate was nearly licked clean as he removed it from in front of you. He could sense your unease from a mile away. It was as if he could smell the fear leaking from your pores.

“Go on and get some rest, little lamb. I’ll be there in a few. Oh, and by the way, I prefer to sleep naked. I hope that doesn’t pose a problem for you.” He shot a flirty wink in your direction before you were immediately pushing your chair back.

Fucking peachy.

It wasn’t difficult to find his bedroom as it was the only other room in the mid size cabin. You would have much rather have slept on the uncomfortable hardwood floor than to share a bed with him. However, based on how he acted at the dinner table..you really didn’t want to stretch your luck, if you’d even call it that, any further.

The semi-comfortable mattress brought instant relief to your aching back and shoulders. A comfort short lived as you listened attentively to the faint footsteps approaching the door. Joel was surprisingly quiet as he slipped into the room like a shadow in the night. He barely acknowledged your presence as he shuffled to the unoccupied side of the bed. The mattress creaked beneath his weight as he sank down along it.

You laid there unmoving, quiet like a mouse as your eyes squeezed shut from the familiar shrill sound of the metal clasp of his belt clinking. His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud as a silent tear slowly rolled down your cheek. He yanked his shirt over his head in one swift movement before he kicked his boxers down his ankles. You heard him let out a faint sigh as he scrubbed his hand down his patchy beard. You waited for the moment that he would pounce..but it never came as he slowly swung his legs onto the mattress with a soft grunt as he settled back into the pillows. His cock hung heavy between his thighs as he shifted positions ever so slightly. “G’night, little lamb. Sleep tight.” He crooned softly.

Wait..that’s it? No no. What the hell was going on? Didn’t he say he would–

“Goodnight, Joel.” You whispered as you rolled over so your back was facing him. You were on the very edge of the mattress, as far away as you possibly could be from him.

Joel was more than willing to play the long game with you. He was in no rush, and toying with your already fragile mind was part of the fun. He did swear that he wouldn’t touch you without your consent, but he never said anything about not touching himself. He was, after all, a lonely man in some capacity. Perhaps that’s why he had no shame to slowly wrap his fist around the base of his cock while you were laying just a few feet away. He trapped his lower lip between his teeth as he dragged his thumb across the ruddy head, collecting a bead of precum that had weeped from the narrow slit. He twisted his hand slowly as a grunt bubbled up his throat. He pulled his hand back only to filthily spit on it in order to create some lubrication. His head tilted back against the pillows as his mind ran rampant through his filthy desires. “Fuck, that’s it little, lamb.” He hissed between his teeth, digging his heels into the mattress as his cock grew hard and swollen in his grasp.

You could vaguely hear the rustling of the sheets through your light slumber. You thought maybe you were experiencing some vivid dream when you detected Joel’s soft grunt and the unmistakable sound of him spitting into his hand. It felt like your body was betraying you and riding off into the deep end as your thighs subconsciously clenched together. His sounds of gratification only seemed to spur your now awake body to relieve itself in some capacity as your hand slowly snaked down between your thighs. It had been longer than you could remember since you last shared a bed with someone. Perhaps this was all based purely on animalistic instincts as your fingers dipped beneath your panties. Your clit was throbbing for attention as your fingertips skated across it. You bit down on the inside of your cheek hard to suppress a whimper from slipping out, but it was audible enough for Joel to hear it. Once you started, there was no going back as your fingers worked your clit in slow circular motions.

Joel was shocked to say the least. So much so, that his hand had stilled around his cock as he listened to your pathetic little whimpers that you were desperately trying to suppress. You being so unpredictable to him was an absolute turn on. He couldn’t believe that his dirty little lamb was shamelessly playing with herself. Maybe you and him weren’t so different after all. His cock twitched against his stomach as he imagined just how tight your little pussy would hug him, and that’s all it took for him to shred his remaining morale. “What’re you doin’ over there, little lamb?” He whispered through the pale moonlight that casted shadows across the bed frame.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You scrambled to remove your hand from between your thighs as a sense of embarrassment and dread washed over you. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks from the excitement and adrenaline rush of being caught.

“Don’t stop on my account, dirty little lamb. You sounded so desperate to come. Why deprive yourself of that pleasure?” He hummed through his teeth as he gave the base of his cock a firm relieving squeeze. “Or are you seekin’ some assistance? I’d be happy to help..can’t leave your pussy hanging on the edge for that long, little lamb. She deserves better treatment than that.” He tsked disapprovingly.

it was as if a lightbulb had suddenly flashed in your brain. Yes, use this to your advantage. This is what he wants, right? Give it to him. Make him think that you’re submissive. Fuck him stupid and leave when he’s sleeping. Play his game better than he is.

“It hurts.” You pouted as tears of frustration began to slowly drip down the corners of your eyes. You did have to sell the part after all.

“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. I know it hurts..bet it’s been so long since your cunt has been properly taken care of, hmm? When’s the last time she’s been stretched out by a cock?” He asked softly as you felt the mattress dip down from him slowly roll over onto his elbow so he was facing you.

“It’s been too long, sir. I can’t even remember the last time I was properly filled up by a cock. I miss that feeling so much. Will you help me, please? I want you to take care of me, Joel.” You nearly moaned out a plea as your thighs rubbed together beneath the sheets.

Joel’s rough exterior had seemingly melted into a puddle of liquid as you nearly begged him. Who was he to say no to a person in need? Here you were, so willing, so compliant, so submissive, and right where he wanted you to be. “Oh, my poor little lamb. It’s been that long for you? Perhaps I’ll just have to remind your cunt just how good it feels to be properly filled up by a cock, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please, Joel. Please remind me how good it feels to be filled up by a cock. I want you to stretch me out..I want to feel you everywhere..think you can handle that, sir?” You were already reaching for his hand as he scooted closer to where your body was laying. You guided his hand between your thighs so he could feel just how wet you were for him. “Please, can’t you feel how wet I am? Please make me feel good, sir.”

His eyes nearly rolled back into his skull from your desperation and neediness as his fingers lightly traced the seam of your panties where he could feel the wetness pooling through the fabric. “I’ll take real good care of you, little lamb. You’re in good hands. We’ll have to take these off so I can get a good look at ya. Bet she’s so fuckin’ pretty. Dyin’ to have a peek.”

He’s a goner.

She’s a goner.

“Take them off, please.” You whimpered as his hands grasped the hem of your panties and slowly pulled them down your thighs. His pupils dilated from the sight of the fabric sticking to your puffy wet pussy. His mouth watered from the sight alone as he discarded your ruined panties to the floor. You felt the warm embrace of his hand wrap around the inside of your thigh as he coaxed it across his lap so he could spread you nice and wide. “Oh, fuck. Look at how swollen she is. Must hurt so much.” He pouted with furrowed brows. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy. I cannot wait to ruin her, my little lamb.” At this angle you were entirely exposed to his greedy eyes as you watched his hand travel southward once more. He used his middle and forefinger to spread your folds open so he could get a better view of your swollen little clit. He appeared to be mesmerized as your tight wet little hole involuntary clenched inwards.

Your moans were anything but fake as his thumb slowly worked your clit into tight circles. He wasn’t lying about the fact that you certainly were in good hands. You were wet enough as it is, but he felt that extra lubrication couldn’t hurt as he spat a glob of saliva between his fingers and rubbed it in. He soon had two fingers knuckle deep inside of you as he slowly curled them inwards. “Gotta get you nice and relaxed for me, baby. I don’t wanna hurt ya, and you’re being such a good little lamb for me. I think I’ll just have to reward you for that. How does that sound?” His eyes drifted upwards so he could see your face twist with pleasure as your toes curled inwards.

“Oh, sir.” You moaned wantonly. “That feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop. I promise I’ll keep being your good little lamb. Can you show me your cock, Joel? I want to see it. I bet it’s so big..what if it doesn’t fit?”

He shifted his hips upwards so you could get a good look at his dick. He watched your eyes widen the slightest at the sight of him. Heavy set balls, dark coarse hair, and by far the thickest cock you had ever feasted your eyes upon. “Shh, we’ll make it fit. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good once I’m stretching you out, little lamb. You just gotta trust me. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you trust me?”

“Mhmm. I can trust you, sir. I know you’ll take extra good care of me. Please don’t make me wait much longer..please be good to me.”

He pressed a reassuring kiss to your temple as he felt the walls of your pussy clench down around his thick digits. The squelching sound sent blood quickly flowing southwards as his cock twitched against his thigh. As soon as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt between your thighs with one hand wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as he twisted his wrist a couple times. His freehand was wrapped around the underside of your thigh as he brought it around his shoulder with your heel resting along his firm shoulder blade. “Good little lamb. I’m goin’ fill this pretty little pussy up just the way that she deserves, okay? See, I told you that bein’ my pet wasn’t gonna be so bad. I knew you’d warm up to me eventually.” He mumbled under his breath as he slowly dragged his tip between your folds, rutting his hips forward slowly. The tip of his cock bumped against your already sensitive clit with each gentle thrust.

Your brain felt like a scrambled egg that was being mentally toyed and fucked with. This sick man could have easily fucked you like a rag doll into his mattress, and instead he was choosing to take things slow. Why? You couldn’t wrap your head around his reasoning, or if this was truly just another piece to his game, but Jesus fuck, there was no denying that it felt fucking incredible.

Your words came out like slurred jarble as your mouth slowly felt open when you felt him slowly start to sink inside of you, stretching you open, filling you up just like his promise. It felt like his cock was splitting you in two the further he pressed into you. He coaxed you gently when you clawed at his forearms. Shushing you with featherlight kisses to your cheekbones when he had bottomed out. Your leg fell limp around his shoulder when he had slowly pulled his hips back before jutting them forward.

He was fucking you deliciously deep as the matress squeaked from the movement. He was watching your face for any signs of discomfort as you struggled to figure out where he started, and where he ended. Your pussy hugged him tight as it drew him in deeper with each thrust. His hand nearly engulfed your hip as his thumb lightly pressed down along your lower abdomen where he could feel the tip of his cock just barely kissing your cervix. “Can you feel me right there, little lamb? You’re doing so good for me. So fuckin’ good. Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. She’s huggin’ me so good.” His grunts mixed with your sharp moans as you struggled to not completely throw your plan out the window. In this position it was hard to gain any sense of control; it was time to switch things up.

“Joel, baby.” You mewled softly as your hips rolled forward to meet his thrusts. “I wanna try something that I think you’ll really like..I wanna be on top. You must be so exhausted from dealing with me all day..why don’t you lay back and I’ll do all the work?” You suggested with a harsh breath as he leaned down over you. You could feel the broad weight of his chest pressing down against you as his lips brushed across the shell of your ear, “that’s the best idea you’ve had all goddamn day, little lamb.”

Even after your handsome offering, he wasn’t quite ready to slip out of your warmth just yet. Now that he had a taste, there was no way in hell that he was about to let you go from his grasp. He had consumed you completely to the point where it felt like you were being suffocated by his sheer mass and the way he managed to hit that spongy spot inside of you with every profound intense induced thrust. His wiry patchy beard scraped at the soft skin of your cheek as he drove himself further. “Jus’ gimme a little more time with ya like this. You feel so fuckin’ good around me. Jus’ a little longer.” He stuttered between harsh jagged breaths that fluttered across the shell of your ear. His teeth nipped, scraped at the skin as the musty scent of his sweat melded into yours. Skin on skin: with no point of relief.

When he finally began to slowly slip out of your tight wet walls, it appeared that your body was reluctant to let go of him based on the way your pussy clenched around him tightly like a fist. He chuckled low and deep as he watched a mixture of your release and his own leak out of your tight fucked out hole. It glistened along the apex of your thighs, trailing down your skin, dripping along the once unsoiled comforter.

“My my, little lamb. You’ve gone and made quite the mess of yourself hmm?” He teased as he slowly dragged his pointer finger through the mixture of fluids as if he was creating an erotic painting, and his finger was the steady brush.

Focus. Focus. Focus. Your brain chanted at you relentlessly.

“Hnngh..mhm..i’ve made such a mess of myself, sir. Will you please clean me up?”

He smirked cruelly through the pale moonlight that danced across your skin as he scooted himself back on his knees, his cock brushing against the comforter and creating just enough stimulation for him to be satisfied for the time being. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can give you an itty-bitty reward.” He mused as his eyes locked in on your glistening pussy just begging to be kissed. Your lashes fluttered when you felt his hot breath fan your core. Might as well get all the use out of him that you could get.

He pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Sucking, licking, kissing around where you craved him most. The second those sinful lips latched onto your swollen clit, a carnal need washed over both of you as he devoured you whole. His tongue worked you in languid strokes as he made sure to lick up every last drop. Your orgasm was steadfast approaching as the coil in your stomach tightened. Your thighs clamped firmly around his head like a stubborn shell. If it were any other situation, you’d let him eat you for hours, days even, but you had to stick to your plan.

He wasn’t letting up easily as you used all your strength to push his head from between your thighs. His beard and lips were coated in your slick as he finally released you from his death grip. There was no time to catch your breath as his strong arms were already hosting you into his lap as he lazily rolled over onto his back with a soft grunt.

“Keep bein’ my good little lamb, and you’ll wake up every mornin’ with my head between your thighs.” He nearly purred as his hands anchored themselves around your hips. You could feel the head of his cock notching at your entrance as you slowly sank down against his bulky strong thighs. It took a mere moment for you to snap back into character and keep up with your charades as you wrapped your hand firmly around the base of his cock. “I’m going to take care of you now okay, Joel? You’ve been so good to me. I’m so grateful for your generous hospitality and your cock. I just want you to sit back and relax..can you do that for me, baby?” You held all the control in the palm of your hand as you slowly slid his tip between your slit. Your little noises of appreciation had his head spinning in circles as he squeezed your hips firmly.

“M’gonna keep you forever, just like this. Stuffed full of my cock. Filled to the fuckin’ brim.” He hissed between his teeth as you slowly inched yourself around him till he had filled you to the hilt. “M’so lucky to have a good little lamb like you, baby. My good little cockslut. It ain’t so bad, is it? Mmm..maybe you and I are more alike than you think.” He murmured with a lazy grin etched on his face as he gazed up at you through thick lashes.

“Of course i’ll be your good little lamb forever and ever, sir.” You played along as you slowly rolled your hips forward. “I’ll be so good to you just like you have been to me.” Now you had him right where you wanted him and it was only a matter of time. You affectionately played with his sweat stained curls, licked the musk from his neck as you inhaled his masculine aroma that seeped from his pores. You nipped at his flesh and left little love bites speckled across his skin. You fucked him the best way that you could, spending what was left of your dwindling energy to convince this man that you were submitting to him entirely. Each roll of your hips, and smack of your skin transported him to a new state of pure ecstasy. He didn’t last very long considering he was fairly spent himself. He let out a deep guttural animalistic grunt that ruptured from deep within his chest as he spilled his seed into you. He could feel both yours and his release drip down between where your bodies were connected. He praised in a soft tone, mumbling about how he was going to fall asleep just like this. “Y’stay right there, little lamb. Gonna keep you stuffed full of my cock all night.” He rasped as his lashes fluttered shut.

By all means, sir. Keep me stuffed full of your cock, because come morning, you’ll be waking up to an empty, cold, miserable bed. You fucking idiot.

He dozed off, still buried deep inside of your cunt as you sat there obediently. You listened to the sound of his breathing return to a normal rate as soft snores slipped past his parted lips. Only when you were certain that he wouldn’t awake from his sex induced slumber, did you finally slip off of his lap. You could feel the sticky residue of his come latching onto your thighs as his cock went soft. You gathered up the clothes he had given you as you rushed to dress and get the hell out of there. You were as quiet as a mouse as you crept out of his room. Your eyes zoned in on the rifle hanging along the hook next to the door.

You were so close to freedom you could almost taste it as you unlatched the door and began to slowly push the handle down–

“Where are you runnin’ off to, little lamb?” His tone was low and menacing as you felt the hardness of his chest press against your back. In one swift movement he had pulled the door shut with a heavy slam that rattled your bones to the core. You went to reach for his rifle but he was on you in a flash as he twisted your arms painfully behind your back. He knocked you forward against the wooden door with your cheek pressed firmly into the rough texture of the wood. When you didn’t respond to his original question, he asked again, but a lot less nicer.

“I said, where the fuck do you think you’re runnin’ off to, little lamb? Y’think you can play me for a goddamn fool?!” He bellowed. His harsh words bounced off the walls of the cabin as you struggled in his painful grip. “After I fed you, put clothes on your back and fucked you dumb, you think you can jus’ fuckin’ leave?!”

“Sir, I'm so sorry! You have it all wrong! I—just wanted to get some fresh air! I was going to come right back, I swear!” You took the pleading route in hopes that maybe he’d show you just a smidge of mercy. “I’d never leave you!”

He laughed darkly as he shoved you further into the door, creating little to no space for you to breathe. “Fuckin’ save it. You’re a goddamn filthy liar, little lamb! You were leavin’ me! What a fuckin’ shame too because you were being so so good. Pity, because I was actually thinking of letting you go myself.” He lied straight through his teeth as he forced his knee between your thighs and spread them apart. His hand that wasn’t holding your wrists painfully together wrapped around your middle as he yanked you roughly against his chest. His lips were right at your ear now. “You were being such a good little lamb for me, that I was beginning to feel sorry for taking you away..I was going to let you go first thing in the morning, but you just had to go and fuckin’ ruin it for yourself, huh?” He tsked

Fresh tears began to cascade down your face as you continued to try and break free. Your hope was quickly diminishing like a candle being blown out as he twisted your wrists at an unnatural angle. “PLEASE!” You begged, “I’m so sorry, sir! Please don’t kill me! I–I–can make it up to you, I swear!”

“Kill you? Oh, my dear sweet little lamb, you really haven’t been payin’ attention, have you? I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too pretty to be feasted on by some critters. That simply won’t do.” His hand that was securely wrapped around your middle snaked upwards as he roughly groped your breast through the fabric of your shirt. “Quit your fuckin’ squirming. You ain’t gettin’ yourself outta this one, little lamb.”

“Please, please let me go! I’m–I'm sorry for not being a good pet! I can do better! Please, Joel! You’re hurting me!” You cried out for mercy.

“Now, you’re gonna sit still and be a good little lamb, or I'll feed you to the wolves just outside my door.” He whispered harshly as he dropped his hand from around your breast only to then find the button on your pants before he yanked them down your thighs. Your pussy was sore and overstimulated when he pressed the ruddy head of his cock between your thighs. “Can’t you hear ‘em howlin?’ Bet they’re fistin’ their cocks right now thinkin’ about how your pretty little cunt would hug them so tight. S’only for me, right? This cunt belongs to me. Don’t fuckn’ gimme a reason to share.” He hissed as he harshly thrusted up into you, knocking the air from your lungs as his hand wrapped around your throat.

Your words came out as strangled cries as he continued to ram into you. “Can’tcha hear ‘em now? Beggin’ for this cunt. C’mon, little lamb. Scream for me. Let them know just how good daddy is treatin’ ya. Don’t you fuckin’ hold back.” His thumb and forefinger pressed firmly against your trachea making it harder for oxygen to reach your brain as your body went into distress mode. The more you fought, the tighter he held you. When you could begin to see stars dancing behind your eyelids, and your breath came out in a weak wheezing sound, he finally released you from his death grip.

You buckled over, gasping for air as your knees hit the floor with a sickening thud.

“Don’t you ever try to outsmart me again, little lamb.” He was standing over you like an ominous shadow as choked sobs raked through your body.

“Now, get the fuck back to bed, or i’ll drag you there myself.”

You took his threat seriously as you scrambled to your feet and scurried back to his room.

You never crossed him again, and for good reason. He apologized for his actions the next morning over breakfast. You weren’t very hungry, but forced yourself to eat for your own sake. Now you were his broken and submissive little lamb.

He did keep his promise of keeping you safe from all harm. Once enough trust was instilled, he allowed you to accompany him outside. He taught you all that he knew during those months. You found it hard to not begin to fall for him when he showed you his gentler side. It felt wrong, but right at the same time to love a man who was so cruel. He stripped you of your autonomy, and then stitched it right back together with his own needle and thread. You adapted to his lifestyle as if it was the back of your hand. Accompanying him on raids, torturing helpless individuals for the sheer thrill it felt to hold another person’s life in the palm of your hands.

Maybe you were sicker than he was.

This winter was proving to be unforgiving. Supplies and rations were low, and Joel’s men were growing antsy. Their leader was spending too much time tucked away in his cabin with you, and it was only a matter of time before someone would lash out. You were still fast asleep tucked away cozily in Joel’s warm bed while he called a meeting with the rest of the group.

“I say we head west. There ain’t nothin’ left here for us.” One of his men stated, and heads began to slowly nod in agreement.

“West? Why the hell would we go and do that? We got a decent territory here, and I'm this close to gettin’ us into the QZ. Jus’ have to twist a few more fingers to get us there. This ain’t the worst winter we’ve had. Don’t go and act like a bunch of fuckin’ pussies just because you’re afraid that your dicks are gonna freeze off.” He snapped.

“Easy enough for you to say, Miller. You’re the one who’s got a cockslut keepin’ you warm on the cold nights. What about the rest of us, huh? Can’t be bothered to share your prize?”

Joel could feel his blood begin to simmer as he slowly turned his head to the side. His eyes were narrowed into slits as his fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What the fuck did you jus’ call her?” His tone was eerily calm as he did his best to keep his temper at bay. You were off limits; end of story.

“You heard me. Bet that cockslut of yours was the one who suggested we stay here. That’s why it ain’t good to keep women around for long. They talk and talk and think that they have the answer for everything! Well, you know what I gotta say to that? Keep ‘em around to keep your cock warm and toss ‘em when they grow smart. That’s all they’re good for anyway. Jus’ a tight wet hole to fuck.”

The prominent veins in Joel’s neck bulged to the surface of his neck. His skin was so hot that the swirling flurries that landed on him immediately melted. His face grew red with rage. You were far more than just a hole to fuck. You were his little lamb, and god help any motherfuckers that dare disrespect his little lamb.

“I should fuckin’ carve your tongue out for that. She is not my cockslut.” If Joel’s men were smart, they’d back off while they still had the chance, but men will be men after all.

“Oh, please! Is her pussy really all that? Look at how soft you’ve gone, Miller! I say you dispose of her while you still have the chance. Oh, but before you do that, bring her out for a spin. We’ve been dyin’ to see what her cunt is all about.”

It was as if something inside of Joel had suddenly snapped and he found his hands constricted around the man’s neck. Joel had him pinned to the snow covered ground as the man thrashed around violently. No one dared to try and stop their leader until they heard the crunching of snow beneath boots as your voice drifted through the brewing blizzard like a rumbling echo

Joel’s head snapped in the direction of your voice as he loosened his grip around the man’s neck slightly. “Baby, what the fuck are you doin’ out here? It’s freezing! Get back inside–”

You were quick to cut him off as you approached the scene that was laid out in front of you. You ignored his present concern for your wellbeing as you crossed your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is going on here, Joel?”

“Seth said some shit that he really oughta have kept to himself. S’alright. I got this one handled. Why don’t you go on back home where it’s warm.”

“No. I want you to tell me what he said.” You stood firm

Joel eyed the rest of his men who were all looking much like sheep themselves. “He called you a cockslut, and that all a woman is good for is a tight wet hole to fuck.” He deadpanned.

You appeared unfazed sans the slight arch of your brow. “Really?” You scoffed. “How original. Don’t you think that strangling him is a bit too merciful?”

“Well, before you came out here, I threatened to carve his tongue out.”

“Oh?” You asked with a lopsided grin. “Now that is more your style, baby. Wanna use my knife? I just sharpened it the other day.”

Seth was nervously looking between yours and Joel’s sadistic grins as he struggled to escape. All Joel had to do was snap his fingers once for two of his men to then force Seth down by his shoulders, and physically pry his jaw open as he thrashed wildly on the ground.

“My little lamb, you’re so sick..y’know that?” He was already reaching for your outstretched knife before his hand encased around your wrist and gently tugged you down into the snow. “Front row seat jus’ for you, baby. Don’t worry, he’ll never say another word about you again.” he sealed his promise to you against your lips before he was pulling away to finish off the job.

“S’matter, Seth? Cat got your tongue?” Joel crooned as grabbed the back of his head and yanked it forward. “This oughta teach ya to respect women.”

“Joel–wait! Please don’t do this! I’m sorry! I’m–” Seth’s pleas were violently cut off when Joel sliced right through his tongue. Blood spattered and squirted from the gushing wound as his once attached muscle now laid limp in the snow.

“Oh, what was that? You’re sorry? It’s a bit too late for that, pal.” Joel spat before he picked up the chunk of Seth’s mutilated tongue and tossed it right into the nearby fire pit.

“Get him outta my sight before I decide to rip his throat out too. Tie him up to a tree a few miles from here. Leave him to the wolves. They’ll finish him off.” He demanded his men as he wiped the blood from your knife along Seth’s shirt.

His hand reached for yours to help you up from the ground. You held no shame to admit that watching Joel mutilate someone in front of you so willingly sent a wave of arousal gushing between your clenched thighs, and you probably would have fucked him right then and there and let his men watch because none of that really mattered anymore. You opted to pull him behind a cluster of trees instead as you dropped to your knees ceremoniously in the bitter cold snow that instantly bit at your exposed bare skin. Your hands clawed for his belt as you desperately unlatched it and shoved his jeans down his thighs swiftly. Your cheeks felt cold to the touch as Joel’s hand affectionately held your face in his warm palm as you pulled his stiff cock free. His heart swelled with pure pride for his good little lamb.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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zombieplaygrounds · 2 days

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cw: implied kidnapped reader, not proofread, yandere drabble, dark fic (ish), Stockholm syndrome implied

"You like it." König grinned up at you, seated on his knees. Though you couldn't see his face, not behind the ages old mask he wore, his squinted baby blue eyes showed his appreciation, his love, his devotion.

In his large hand was a grasped bundle of flowers, roses. Usually such an utterly basic flower, but these were different. Ish. The roots still attached, dirt clinging to the small veiny structures, almost helplessly withering away in his tight grasp. Bits of blood from the pricking of thorns against König's fingers. But he would never expose you to any danger, the thorns sloppily carved off with a knife, little indents of what was.

A breath of air - hesitance.

"I like it." You whisper, body shivering, cold. Covered only by a thin bedsheet, satin and white. König made a sloppy noise of delight, offering the flowers closer. Letting you get a scent of freedom. One he'd take at any given moment; a power he abused, simply because he could.

"Gut.. ja gut.." König purred praises as you sniffed the subtle scent. "Maybe next time, I will let go outside with me. Hm? You will like it, yes?"

Ignoring the tears that slipped out of your eyes with a rough pat to your head. You sniffled slightly, "Love you.."

Words he wanted to hear, words part of you felt. You did love this monster. Your monster and his flowers.

#konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig mw2 #yandere #yandere konig #zombieplayground #zombieplaygrounds #tw: kidnapping #tw: stockholm syndrome #tw: dark fic

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disguisedcheezed · 7 months

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Day 2 - Y section

You can tell I had so much fun that I drew this prompt 3 times and wrote (in a restricted time frame) blocks of text from a fanfic that keeps me awake at night.... Yeahhhh.

#dirkjohn #johndirk #dirk strider #john egbert #ult dirkjohn #homestuck #homestuck 2 #hs^2 #gore #blood #y section #dirkjohn goretober 2023 #so romantic #rhe fic is really cute (BUT ITS UNFINISHED WHEHHAHA)#looking at the tags stockholm syndrome and lima syndrome together brungs ne tears in my eyes #its so fucking funny to me #[i was tge one that killed u and now o brought uou back to life](oh cool. that sucked but thanks. anyways you wanna be friends? lol)[uh.ok]#<- THE FUCKING PLOT #mine

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avvail-whumps · 9 months

Text

‘guns for hire’ — the finale #38

previous · masterlist

content warnings: intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, past torture, injury recovery, implied bribery, mentioned non-con drugging, mentioned panic attacks, dub-con kissing, dub-con touching (not sexual or explicit)

Gulping down another glass of fresh water from the miniscule plastic cup, Leo gave a refreshed, soft sight as the cooling water flooded down his sore throat.

His eyes and his cheeks were still sticky from crying, damp under his chin. He eagerly scrubbed it away, reddening his skin as he did so, but part of him couldn’t care. His puffy eyes flickered up to the clock behind him.

It had been a while since the interrogations had finished.

Leo heard a lot of yelling from outside; Sharpe and Summers were right outside the door, and it hadn’t been closed properly, so he could hear their voices clearer than before. A man, old and intimidating from the sound of his booming voice, had been screaming down the corridors.

There was something about not having a warrant for Roy’s arrest, which Leo clung onto tightly. That meant all of this was unlawful, right? It suddenly made sense as to why Sharpe had been so insistent on getting his confession before the forty-eight hours were up. It also meant that he would probably be allowed to leave soon.

His heart fluttered at the thought of seeing Roy again. He just wanted to feel his touch and listen to his voice. Over forty-eight hours without him was too unbearable for the secretary.

After minutes passed, Summers came back in again. She smiled warmly at him, motioning for him to stand up.

“Your father’s here, Leo,” she offered gently, causing his eyes to lift up in surprise. His mouth popped open, unable to find the right words. The concept of seeing his father gave him mixed emotions. Roy’s hissing words were constantly whispering in his ear.

He eventually managed to push himself onto wobbly feet, joining her outside. Sharpe was nowhere to be found, nor the shouting man from before. Judging from what he had overheard, that was the Police Commissioner.

“Am I allowed to go home?” He whispered hesitantly, like he was treading on eggshells. Her remorseful eyes looked down on him, sighing quietly.

“You’ll spend a little time at the hospital so they can properly check your injuries,” she informed, easing him along the corridor. He walked slowly, but she matched his pace to accommodate his sluggish footsteps. God, he just wanted to put his head on his pillow and go to sleep. “They’ll give you some medication to help you process everything, alright?”

Leo slowly nodded his head. “Then I can go home?”

Summers turned the corner, leading him to the front of station and down some stairs. “Yes. Then you can go home.”

When Leo was taken down the stairs, he saw his father. He was waiting anxiously on the row of chairs, hair a mess and his face red from crying. His eyes snapped towards him as soon as he saw the movement, and with a choked gasp, he snapped to his feet.

Leo’s throat bobbed, taking in the image of his father. He hadn’t really changed much since he last saw him. His skin was a little more wrinkly, and it looked as though his eyes had aged decades. They went glossy amongst seeing his face for the first time, and Leo didn’t have time to open his mouth to say something before familiar arms were wrapping tightly around him. A shaking hand cradled the back of his head, tucking him close into his chest, and his father trembled with raw, unrestrained sobs.

The secretary’s fingers dug into his back, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly to stop himself from crying. Something stirred in his gut.

“I missed you,” he said in a rush before he could stop himself, feeling his father grip him impossibly tighter. He’d yearned for his father to hold him like this. Ever since his mother left, this was all he’d wanted from him. He loved his father deeply. He knew that. It shoved away the stabbing in his heart for a while, though, and he was okay with that.

His father tried to speak. But Leo knew he’d completely lost his voice, and for that, he just simply held him. Leo didn’t really look anything like his father. He got most of his features from his mother, which was always what he wondered caused his father to push him away like he did.

His father pulled away for a moment. Leo felt large hands cupping his cheeks, tilting his head up. His father’s tired, exhausted eyes wandered over his face, taking in every little detail, every little feature he could, like it would be the last time. His lips were wobbling.

Summers cough snatched both of their attention.

“Mr Whitlock, can I have a word?” She asked politely. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

His father swallowed, hands dropping to his shoulders with a little squeeze. He nodded his head, struggling to find the right words.

“Yes, right. Of course,” he stammered, pressing a soft kiss on the crown of Leo’s head. His stomach tingled in warmth. His father quietly addressed him. “Please stay where I can see you. I love you.”

Leo jerkily nodded his head. “I love you too.”

It came out more as a whisper, because his throat had closed up inexplicably, and his voice had failed him. His father’s hands begrudgingly peeled away from him, before he and Summers stepped to the side where Leo couldn’t hear them.

His feet took him over to one of the chairs, and he found himself sitting down numbly. Part of him couldn’t quite believe what was going on. Roy’s words were consuming his thoughts, reminding him of the conversation they’d had after the twenty minutes with each mercenary. Amplifying those initial feelings of hurt and anger towards him. They were still there, just residing at the bottom of his heart, but it was overshadowed by the very concept of just seeing him again. Of feeling him hold him. Of hearing the words “I love you” from him again.

Leo wrung his fingers together nervously. It didn’t feel as good as when Roy said it, though. Summers and his father talked for a while. Apparently, an ambulence was on the way to take them both to the hospital so Leo could get looked at properly. He didn’t like the idea of being shackled to a bed again, but there wasn’t anything he could do. She was probably catching him up on what they knew to buy time for its arrival.

Leo was given some water and a little sandwich to keep him occupied. His father sat with him for a long while, but was pulled away again by both Sharpe and Summers once more. The detective gave him a long, hard stare when he passed.

Both of them knew that Leo had lied. Both of them knew the truth, but Sharpe still offered him a light smile, as if to say “it’s going to be okay”.

The secretary had finished his sandwich when two other people caught his eye. An old, white haired man, weathered with wrinkles, dressed in a uniform with lots of golden badges pinned to his chest. Leo deduced that he was the Commissoner. He was shaking hands with somebody, a tall man who he couldn’t see the face of. Leo watched him curiously as he passed, but swiftly looked away when his cold, hard gaze flickered to him on the way out.

His heart fluttered at that, pounding in his chest.

He didn't know why those eyes frightened him so much, but it was like a horrible gloom had appeared before him, his hairs pricking on edge. He slowly snuck a glimpse as he opened the glass doors, stepping outside, and stopping beside—

Oh. That was Roy.

He was talking to the tall man with a bit of a stoic, hard expression, and waved a hand dismissvely when the older one pulled out a big, thick cigar. He seemed to hand something to Roy, but he couldn’t pin exactly what it was. Leo’s heart fluttered in his chest, his eyes glued onto the back of his head. The sectrary wondered something. Was that his uncle? Why had he been shaking hands with the Commissioner?

As if sensing eyes on him, Roy titled his head back, and Leo almost jolted in his seat. His lips curved into an amused smirk, and he crooked his finger towards himself, as if beckoning him outside. Leo didn’t even have a second to think about it, the worried words of his father unheard in his mind, before he was on his feet, and scurrying towards the door. He pushed the door open, his heart in his throat and his blood rushing through his veins. His eyes ran over him frantically, as if he’d already forgotten every little detail.

The man, who Leo suspected was Roy’s uncle, had already disappeared into a sleek black car down the road. He wasn’t paying any attention to him, however, all of his focus tailored to the mercenary.

“I didn’t say anything,” he whispered under his breath, itching just to throw himself at the man and feel his arms wrap securely around him. Roy chuckled, his eyes shimmering.

“I know you didn’t, lion,” he hummed, a soft lilt to his voice that had the secretary melting on the spot. “I know how good for me you can be when you want to.”

His big eyes stared up at him. “Are you proud of me?”

He really wanted to feel Roy’s hand on his head, brushing affectionately through his hair, but he knew that probably wasn’t going to happen while they were still outside the police station. The mercenary managed a warming, encouraging smile that made his heart flutter.

“Of course I am.”

That was all he wanted to hear. That was all he needed to hear, and any little doubt he had about not telling Sharpe was erased. It was that easy for Leo to get swept violently by the current. He beamed.

“I’m supposed to go to the hospital for a little while,” he told him, and Roy nodded his head.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ll come get you once you’re finished.”

Leo’s spine shivered. “You promise?”

Roy nodded. “Promise, lion. You know I’d never let you go so easily.”

Those words brought a sense of ease and comfort this time. As long as Roy promised. As long as he was going to come back, then Leo could keep going. He could stay separated for a little while longer with that notion in his mind, reminding him who he was doing this for.

“Oh, and lion?”

The secretary paused, his fingers on the door relaxing as he eagerly glanced over.

“Yes?”

Roy handed him a sealed box, and he flipped it over to find that it was a phone. His eyes flickered up to him in confusion, brows pinching.

“I’ll be in touch, alright?” The mercenary hummed, patting his shoulder. The touch made his skin sizzle and burn, a blush rising to his cheeks. He latched onto the small contact, and knew it would be all he was going to think about before he was out of hospital. “Be a good boy and wait for me, lion.”

When the ambulance came, he and his father were both taken away from the police station. Being in the hospital was more difficult than he had anticipated. Being examined and bombarded with even more questions was far too strenuous on his mind, especially since he didn’t have Roy there with him. The mercenary hadn’t contacted him or visited him at all, but Leo tried not to let it get to him. If it was his uncle at the police station, then he was most likely frying much bigger fish than he could comprehend.

He spent a lot longer in the bleak, mindless building than he would have hoped. Each time they had to take his blood or prod any sharp needle into his forearm, he found himself falling into hysterics. It was only made worse when there were so many hands pinning him down, forcing him into those terrifying memories with the other mercenaries, and he would have to be sedated for a little while.

His father visited him the most often. But so did people from his old work. They would bring balloons and presents, showering him with cards and kind words. It would have been better if it was from Roy, though.

When Leo was out of the hospital, his father drove him back to his old home. He cooked for him, helped him into bed, eased his medication into his system and made sure to tell him that he loved him everytime he left a room. It was all Leo had ever wanted from him, but it was hollow. It didn’t feel real. His eyes were only ever glued onto his phone. Waiting for a call, or a text message, leaping for his phone whenever it lit up in the middle of the night. His heart was starting to pound at the very prospect of him not coming. Of being abandoned again.

When it did come, Leo was already packing.

His father was sound asleep as he crept through the house, slowly unlocking the door and sneaking out. He’d left him a note. He had his contact in his phone. He’d keep in touch with him, ring him every week, and everything would be okay. His father was trying his best, but he was an adult, and the pain of staying in his childhood home made it difficult to keep his head on straight.

He took his violin with him. Leo didn’t know what happened to the old one, but Roy had been able to conceal things away so well that they’d never found anything upon searching the house. He even remembered him saying something about a “thorough computer guy” one of the very first times he’d woken up in that basement.

The secretary was glad for it, though.

This time, when he saw Roy, he was able to leap into his arms. Strong ones found their way around his waist, pulling him in, and Leo buried his face into his chest with a soft cry. He’d missed the man so much, it had almost been unbearable. It had been far too long since he’d been able to touch him like this again.

“I missed you too, lion,” he teased, patting the small of his waist gently. “Come on. Put your stuff in the boot.”

Leo was barely able to do that coherently, with Roy kissing him as he went and easing him into the backseat of the car. He barely registered the fact that there was a driver, wearily waiting for some orders. He wondered if the car and the driver were his uncles doing, but those thoughts were quickly swallowed up when a hand gently cradled the back of his head, fingers teasing the locks. They’d grown far too long for Leo’s liking.

Roy broke the kiss to send a sharp look towards the driver. “Go on.”

He obeyed quickly enough, the car purring to life and rolling off the curb of the pavement. The mercenary’s lip found his neck again, and Leo’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly, his legs sprawled out awkwardly across the car. Roy’s fingers tightened in his hair, and they were suddenly jerking his head back abruptly. A sharp pain spiralled through his scalp and his neck, and a soft cry of pain escaped his lips.

The mercenary leaned closer, his lips teasing the shell of his ear.

“Just so you know, lion,” he murmured every do quietly, his low voice making shivers tingle down his spine. “It doesn’t matter if you’d told them or not. Either way, I would have been walking out of here. And had I known you sided with them, I would have hurt you unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.”

Leo’s throat closed with gasps, the grip in his hair making him wince. Still, with a pounding heart, a twitch of a smile pulled at his lips.

“I know,” he breathlessly whispered, his shaking hand moving down his chest, pressing against his leg, and letting his fingers tease under the waistband of his pants. Roy’s eyes glimmered brightly, and an amused smirk spread across his face.

“You little minx,” he purred, the grip in his hair easing when he pushed his lips against his again. Leo’s eyes fluttered shut, melting into the kiss with a newfound hunger. Because if Roy were to take his clothes off and push him onto the leather seats right now, then that was proof that he loved him back. Leo was sure enough of that.

Roy placed light kisses against his lips, easing off. Leo had to hold back a frustrated huff, but a peck against the furrow in his brow made that annoyance disappear in an instant. The mercenary pulled him closer into his side, and Leo melted into the embrace, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

The trees rushed by in a blur, but the secretary was more focused on the warmth of the man beside him. Leo leaned his head comfortably against his shoulder, clinging onto Roy’s arm, one hand tangled snugly within his. The mercenary was stroking the back of his scarred hand with his thumb, making his skin tingle and his heart flutter in his chest.

He couldn’t stop the smile that made its way onto his face. The sense of calm and peace that was flowing through him right now was completely unmatched.

“I love you,” Leo hummed quietly under his breath, and the man shifted, pressing a warming kiss to his temple.

“I know, little lion,” he smiled, squeezing his hand gently, letting him know that he was assured, that he was completely his. In every way. “I know.”

and with that, the main story is complete. i can’t believe it’s over already. thank you for all the kind words throughout writing 🩵

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235 @whumpasaurus101 @mj-or-say10 @professional-idiocy @seaweed-is-cool @theelvishcowgirl @atomicsandwichprince @sunshiline-writes @peasandpotatos @pirefyrelight @enigmawritesstuff @reverie1234 @obsessedsplicer505 @mithras-energy @morning-star-whump

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

Text

The Raid (Narcos) - Masterlist

dark!Javi x f!reader x dark!Steve | updated 1/29

Two DEA agents find you on a drug raid and make some changes in your life, starting with getting you off drugs. They share you and have sexual tension with each other. Steve is not married. Reader is not physically described, but has some general background as a drug user who had a boyfriend.

The Fic (Ongoing)

The Raid (2.7k) Javi

The Raid, part 2 (8k) Javi, Steve

One shot: Javi isn't home (1.7k) Steve

Drabble: No good (750) Javi

Mini Drabble: Cuál (425) Javi, Steve

Art, etc.

HOT GIF: For your own good: by @iamasaddie

HOT Javi portrait: Javi by @bonezone44

beta'd by jordi ENP. lots more to come but i'm on hiatus.

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killedbythehuntress · 2 months

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Stockholm Syndrome

★·.·´¯`·.·★ .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿ ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Also on: AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

I want to apologise for the delay in this chapter, seasonal depression sorta kicked my ass. But hopefully this makes up for it.

★·.·´¯`·.·★ .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿ ★·.·´¯`·.·★

Chapter Seven.

"Sebastian." She calls with a huffed laugh, pushing herself up from where she'd fallen. No matter how many times she walked this path, she always seemed to trip over the same tree root. She supposed that was down to the denseness of the trees, the light filtering in through separate areas, and shadows being created where they shouldn't be. "Are you sure the cave you're looking for is around here?"

"I'm sure." He told her, although even he was sounding a little unsure of himself. That alone was enough to put her on edge, making her stop dead in her tracks as her hands found their way to her hips.

"You're not, are you? Tell me the truth." She glowered at him, annoyed. They'd been traipsing around the forest now for two hours.

"Okay, fine. We may have been a bit lost, but I'm starting to recognize things now." Her arms moved to cross over her chest, her eyebrows farrowing at him. "Look, I promise. I recognize that swirly thing." Her eyes followed where he pointed and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"It's a Merlin trial, and there's like a 100 of them, identical - scattered in the Scottish Highlands." She watched him deflate slightly and felt bad. "We're out here anyway though. Let's go."

Dropping her arms, she pushed forward towards the trial, digging into her bag for some Mallowsweet instinctively.

Why she felt compelled to do every one of these she found, she didn't know.

Sprinkling the herbs, she watched as the vines shifted off some pillars. "You look around here, give me a second." She told him, pulling herself atop the shortest before using the height vantage to plan her movements.

It took her less than five minutes - and one tumble and a restart - for her to complete it. Dropping down to sit on the edge of the tallest, and last pillar she'd landed on. She felt something wrapping around her ankle, shaking her leg, and looking down to find nothing. Frowning, her brows furrowed, perhaps it was one of the vines.

“It’s this way!” Her head whipped up, looking in the direction that Sebastian was, her frown deepening.

“Are you sure? There’s an Acromantula lair in there.” She offered, jumping from her perch and making her way to him while remembering her fight with The Absconder. They might be dead, but it wasn’t unlikely that another had taken its place.

She came to stand next to him, looking into the cavernous path, and shuddered. She felt another tug at her leg and looked in that direction, seeing nothing but feeling the need to brush something imaginary off her school robes. “Let's get this done, Sebastian. If I never see another spider, it'll be too soon.”

Shaking her head, she stepped over the threshold between freedom and spider lair, pulling the robes closer around her to stop them snagging against some webbing. She heard Sebastian following behind her as they made their way through, stepping over empty egg nests and web-covered remains.

After a while, Sebastian took the lead and she felt her stomach drop as they moved closer to where she'd fought the Absconder. “Seb!” She hissed quietly, hoping to not pull attention from anything lurking around. “Are you sure? Like really sure?”

She watched him turn to her, clearly a little annoyed at being questioned, before his eyes widened. She heard him call her name, a clear warning, but too late as she felt something wrap around her ankles and pull.

Feeling dazed, she rolled over onto her back, barely registering herself being pulled across the ground as she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked from her, it didn't take long before she realized what had happened though. The large Thornback Matriarch towered over her form, webbing wrapped around her lower legs and torso as she was dragged towards it. “Sebastian, help!” She yelled, scrambling for the pocket she kept her wand inside, only to have another coat of the silky web trap he'd hand against her body.

Her free hand dug into the ground around her as Sebastian flung spells at the beast, her attempts at stopping the pull in vain - the spells seemingly having no effect on the thornback. It was only as she was pulled close enough to see the spider's fangs, glistening slightly in the low light that her panic increased. “Sebastian, please!” She cried, her voice cracking slightly.

“Avada Kedavra!” The flash of green was almost blinding, the tension that had been pulling at the webbing wrapped around her finally abating and she felt relieved, her head falling back onto the ground to look up at the sky - instead of the thornback curling up dead near her. A choked sob left her, her not trapped hand coming up to cover her lower face.

“Diffindo.” The word was quiet, but it worked, the web slicing down the center and allowing it to slide off of her. “Hey, Shh,” Sebastian murmured, falling to his knees next to her. “It's okay, I've got you. I've got you.” He continued to say, holding her against his chest with a faint rocking motion as she cried.

— — — — — —

“Shh, it's okay. I've got you.” The words were quiet but repeated over and over. The feeling of being rocked almost soothed her back to sleep. “I'm sorry, I'm here. I've got you, please wake up.” The feeling of someone pressing their face against the top of her head caused a wince, she must have hit her head at some point, and it hurt.

In fact, everything did. She was sure she was aching in places she didn't know could ache. Groaning softly, she tried to wiggle from the tight grip around her. “Seb?” She asked, voice weak.

Her eyelids felt so heavy as she tried to open them, almost as if trying to lull her back to sleep. The small slither of light broke through the tiny gap in her eyelids enough to send a sharp ache through her already throbbing skull with another groan.

“Shh, I'm here, I've got you!” The words were said against her hair as he pulled her tighter, a frantic edge to his voice. “I'm sorry.” She heard him murmur, almost as if he was hiding something.

Before she could ask though, she lost the fight with unconsciousness.

— — — — — —

Waking the second time, she could almost believe that the last couple of days had been some sort of nightmare, dreamt up as some stress-induced imagining of her situation.

Almost. That is.

Because when she tried to move to get up from the bed, her body screamed out in pain. Crying out, she instead turned onto her side and curled into the tightest fetal position possible.

As she lay in her own self-pity, she couldn't ignore the sounds of footsteps almost running across the main floor, the small tinkling sound of what was likely potion bottles pairing with them. It wasn't long before the mattress next to her dipped, ripping a whimper from her as it jostled her aching body.

“Shh, it's only me.” She heard, and that alone was enough for her to pull from her position if only to look up at him.

“Sebastian?” Even tinged with pain, her voice couldn't hide the awe she felt at seeing him again. She was sure he had been killed - or worse, captured. Lifting her hand and ignoring the pain, she trailed her fingers over his stubble-covered cheek.

Only once she believed this wasn't some elaborate dream or hallucination did she pull away.

And slap him.

“Where the hell have you been?” She demanded, her pain momentarily forgotten. “I've been so sc…” She cut herself off, instead watching as the look of regret - and perhaps pity? But she ignored that - passed over his face.

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian said quietly, holding up a small bottle, filled with bright green liquid. “Drink this first, and when we get you comfortable, I'll tell you everything.”

She watched as he uncorked the bottle with his teeth, using his other hand to hold himself up over her before he brought the rim to her lips. She couldn't help the skeptical look - or the feeling - of what was happening, but a part of her - a part that was growing more and more recently - told her he was only trying to help, she needed him after all.

Finally, she parted her lips enough for the Wiggenweld Potion to slip down her throat, many of the aches and pains lifting immediately.

Sighing in relief, she pushed back on the mattress with a little more ease, lifting her hand and watching as her nails grew back. She still felt several aches and pains - some areas burning and stinging depending on the wound - things that would take time and not just a simple Wiggenweld potion.

The most prominent pain came from her left arm - thankfully not her dominant arm - which she held cradled against her chest. Looking at it, the angle was off just enough to be noticeable.

The sight of it made her feel sick, her head pushing back into the pillow in an attempt to not see it from the corner of her eye as she swallowed back the lump in her throat.

“I need a doctor.” She said finally, her voice warbling and raspy - clearly she'd be crying if she wasn't so dehydrated.

“No, you don't.” He told her firmly, stopping her attempt to sink into the mattress and pulling her into a seated position before bringing a glass of cold water to her lips.

His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as she drank greedily, a kiss being pressed against her hairline. “I'm so sorry I was away for so long.” He murmured, his face pressing against her hair with a deep inhale.

He refilled the glass for her twice before she'd drank enough to feel sated, her body and mind still tired as she slumped further into his hold, her heavy eyes falling shut. “Hey, hey.” He nudged her softly, “Let me fix your arm first, and then you can go back to sleep.”

She felt herself nod, her eyes drooping slowly. Had she been this tired a few minutes ago? Her brow crinkled as she tried to think, she was sure she hadn’t, so why was she? She struggled to think back to the glasses of water he’d given her, cursing internally that she’d ignored the slight purple hue of the second one. “Sleeping draught.” She slurred, attempting to sound angry that he’d essentially drugged her.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She heard him say, gently resting her down on the bed with a peck to her forehead. “But I figured it’d make this easier.” Had she not been so sluggish, she'd have realized what he was about to do sooner. The manipulation of the bones in her wrist, as he tried to get them back in position, wrenched a blood-curdling scream from her, even while half asleep.

The last thing she heard before the draught took her under was Sebastian uttering a spell.

— — — — — —

She was so thirsty…

Why was she so thirsty?

She wasn't sure what was happening, but the need to escape was strong.

Where was she?

She could see the Undercroft.

Is that where she was meant to go?

She was feeling a serious sense of deja vu.

The banging stopped and that made her stop, a loud bang echoing behind her before the doors slammed open, the entire cavern shaking and dust falling around her.

No, that wasn't right.

She scrambled forward, surely she just had to get to the Undercroft and her desire to escape would be satiated

Of course.

She was free.

She wasn't.

She watched as the path to the Undercroft was blocked by more stone - had this happened before?

The sound of scuttling rushing towards her.

No, not scuttling. Footsteps. In her desperate haze, had she heard wrong?

A screech.

No, it was her name. Someone was calling her name.

"No!" She screamed, watching as the rock collided with her wrist, the appendage being forced out of shape as she screamed.

— — — — — —

The memory of the pain pushed her back into consciousness. Her body jolted slightly before she took a moment to scan her surroundings.

She was still in the cavern. Still alive. Still in the bed and still aching.

She brought her hands up to her face, rubbing at her bleary eyes with a groan. It was then she noticed the pain in her wrist was gone, completely.

Pulling her hands away from her face, she elevated her arm to inspect her wrist properly.

No bruising, no weird shaping, no broken bones. Sebastian had repaired it somehow.

Considering he'd taught himself the unforgivables from books, it was no surprise he'd managed to master healing spells - even if he'd gone to Azkaban before healing classes had been an option able to be taken.

Sebastian…

Pushing herself into a seated position, she couldn't see him, but she could hear him downstairs. “Seb?” She murmured, feeling as though, if she spoke too loud the illusion she had brought of him would disappear.

The shuffling sound stopped for a moment and her heart sank, before she heard the sound of a chair scraping against stone and footsteps.

Her brain still felt hazy and she couldn't help the feeling of still dreaming, so she pinched herself once.

Twice.

Only on the third pinch was she satisfied that she was awake. She watched as Sebastian reached the top of the stairs, walking towards her and the bed.

“Think you’re up for a bath and some food?” He asked quietly, stopping a few steps away from her. Was he trying to avoid giving her the explanation he promised? Looking down at herself, she had to admit she was pretty filthy, the once white chemise was now an almost dark gray - and that thought was how she found herself nodding at him.

It didn’t take more than a few minutes before she was downstairs and in the tub, the layer of grime and stone shedding from her body and turning the water a murky color. She watched Sebastian wave her wand, the water clearing before he picked up a bar of soap. “How’re you feeling, any pain still?” He asked softly, rubbing the bar over her back and shoulders, digging his fingers in lightly to loosen any tension.

“Just some aches…” She mentions, not really looking up from the water. “Where were you?”

“I went back to your cottage, get you some more things.” That made her look up, her gaze immediately falling onto Sebastian. “I’m serious, I figured you could use more than one chemise.”

“Sebastian, you were gone days.”

“I know, I thought I’d left enough time for any Aurors sniffing about would have given up.” He began, scooping up a small jug of water and using it to rinse her hair, tipping her head back gently with his other hand. “I was wrong though, I almost got caught.”

She’d had a feeling, but hearing it and thinking it felt different. Her heart dropped, her brows furrowed and her fists clenched under the water. She had been so close to dying here alone.

“I had to run, even apparated a few times but they still caught up.” She wasn’t sure if the water was getting cold or if the story was chilling her, but she felt herself shivering slightly. Another wave of her wand from Sebastian heated the water a little more for her. “It took a well-timed Disillusionment charm and for a group of poachers for me to give them the slip. I had to hide out in a cave for a little while to be sure it was safe to come back. Make sure no one was following me.”

A few days ago, the thought of Sebastian not being followed and no one finding her would’ve caused her stomach to drop in distress. This time though, she was sure she was feeling some sort of relief from the news. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

“You were gone for days, I was so scared.” She offered, her hand coming up and resting against his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do here without you.” She bit her lower lip, pushing the tears that wanted to slip down her cheeks back.

Sebastian leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I promise, I have no plans to leave for so long again. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, but being so close it was easy for her to hear.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until the water started to cool again and she began to shiver. He then pulled her from the water gently, wrapping a towel around her.

“Go get dressed, the clothes I managed to get are in your suitcase in the sleeping area.” Nodding, she took over holding the towel around her, wondering what he would’ve picked up for her. “I’ll make up a bowl of stew for you.”

Turning, she began to make her way to the stairs, her gaze falling over the now completely covered wall that used to hold the passageway to the Undercroft. The sight of it took her back, the fear, her eagerness, the stress - the worry of dying all hit her in one fell swoop.

“Sebastian?” She called, turning quickly back to the returned man.

“Yeah?” He stopped stirring the stew he’d been checking, putting the bowl down on the counter to turn to her. She made quick work of the space she’d made between them, reaching him quickly.

Her hand came up, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The first kiss she’d initiated between them since this whole ordeal began. She attempted to convey her feelings to him silently, feeling his hands hesitantly grab at her waist.

“I don’t want to be alone again.” She told him quietly, barely pulling away from his lips as she spoke, her eyes downcast as she showed some vulnerability to him, her grip on the towel loosening slightly.

#stockholm syndrome #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #beth writes #writing #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

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theflowerrooms · 1 year

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His Game • Chapter 3 • series masterlist

Pistol Kisses

Dark!Spencer Reid x gn!Reader, kidnapping fic, no use of yn

Chapter Warnings: angst, obsessive and possessive behaviour, dark!spencer, blood, guns, mentions of murder, kidnapping, hints at Stockholm syndrome? Assault, nudity, violence, swearing, !!!emetophobia!!!

Vague chapter summary; Spencer wants you to know how much you mean to him, and only him, not anyone else’s.

Word Count: 3.4k

When you woke up, you were comfortable, pulling the soft, warm blankets up over your cold shoulders and snuggling further into the bed. It was a peaceful minute. A minute before your mind refreshed and you suddenly remembered where you where, what was going on.

You thought about it, as far as kidnappings go, you'd gotten kind of lucky. You at least knew Spencer, you thought so. He brought you food you liked, you weren't locked up in a cage or some filthy basement, you were in a terribly comfortable bed in a beautiful room. He was kind, he was still Spencer.

It could be worse.

You didn't get up for a bit, still awake, you'd lay there. You wondered what Spencer was doing out there, if he was really bringing your cat to you, you prayed he was. You didn't even know what time of day it was, or if it was day at all. When Spencer returns you'll ask him for a clock.

If it was day, Spencer was probably at the BAU, with your friends, with Derek. You wondered how they were doing, are they looking for you? Do they know you're missing? You imagined Derek calling you when you didn't show up, you imagined him driving to your apartment to check on you when you didn't answer. You imagined him calling Hotch when he found your apartment empty and in whatever state Spencer left it in.

Suddenly you were nauseous, bile climbing up the back of your throat. You threw your bedding off your body and forced yourself up and off the bed, bare feet landing against the cold floor creating loud steps as you bounded toward the bathroom.

Your knees smacked hard against the linoleum tile in front of the toilet before you threw up most of what you ate before you slept. You gagged and gagged until nothing came out and you began to cry.

Did your family know you were missing yet? Did Derek tell them? You pictured them crying over your absence and your tears spilled faster. You pictured Derek telling his family, tears in his eyes and shaky voice as his mother and sisters held each other, sobbing the way you are now.

You hoped they'd find you. Not because you feared for your life, but because you feared for them. To you, Derek was an older brother. As a child, he'd scare away your nightmares, he'd kiss your bloody knees, he'd hold you above the water in your mother's pool. As a teenager, he'd pick you up from drunken parties, scare off the filthy-minded boys who wanted to take advantage of you. Even as an adult, he'd ensure your apartment was safe for you to live in, he'd know where you were when you went out at night.

Derek was a protector, your protector. You pictured him at ends, unable to find you, unsure if you were dead or alive. You threw up again.

Standing up was a struggle, flushing the toilet on your way up, you were dizzy and you felt sick. You staggered over to the sink and drank water straight from the tap, you weren't sure if it was filtered or clean but you didn't care.

You didn't recognize the person in the mirror in front of you. Your eyes were swollen and your skin had an ugly sheen of sweat, your hair a mess from you running your hands through it. In the reflection you saw a beautiful glass standing shower and a deep stand-alone clawfoot tub. A bath or shower sounded great.

Were there cameras? Could Spencer watch you shower? Was Spencer even still gone? Or was he just beyond the bedroom door, waiting for you?

Slowly and quietly, you walked into the bedroom and to the door, pulling it open and sticking your head out. Spencer wasn't there, you sighed a quick breath of relief. Although, you kind of wanted him there, being alone felt terrifying right now. And you'd feel comfort in his presence, even though he is the reason you're in this state to begin with.

Back in the bathroom, you rid yourself of the clothes you were in, letting them pile messily on the floor. You contemplated leaving your underwear on in the shower but you didn't care enough.

Goosebumps littered your skin as you stood naked in the cool air. You turned on the shower, waiting just a moment before the water turned hot. Your tense muscles relaxed a bit under the water, the temperature and pressure doing wonders for the full body ache that plagued you. You ran your wet hands over your face, lip trembling as you wanted to cry again.

Your brain felt so foggy, jumbled and messy. You turned the water warmer, raising the heat higher and higher until the steam was choking you, and the water was so hot that it felt cold as it shocked your skin.

It's what woke you up again, woke up the part of your brain that was actually you- not the confused, scared version of you that was taking the forefront of your mind. You turned the water back down and soaked your hair. The shower was already stocked with products, the same ones that your bathroom at home contained.

You knew you'd never brought Spencer to your apartment before, but you knew as well that he'd definitely been in there before, without your knowledge.

Spencer Reid; stalker, kidnapper, murderer. Who's devoted his career to catching and stopping those just like him. What a joke.

You turned the water off, your skin still dripping when you walked out of the shower, foot shaped pools of water following you as you walked toward a closet in there, normally that mess would bother you, the water on the floor. Fuck Spencer and his floors.

The closet was stocked with towels to your delight, all a dark green shade. You pulled one out, wiped any water off of your face and wrapped it around yourself, tucking it so it wouldn't fall, and you grabbed a second, twisting your hair up into it.

You were also pleased to find a toothbrush and toothpaste in there, which you immediately used. You didn't care about your oral health right now, you only cared that your mouth tasted of vomit and tap water which you quickly rectified.

You left your clothes on the floor and the toothbrush on the counter, small puddles still graced the linoleum, you didn't care.

You decided to wear a t-shirt and underwear, you didn't care what Spencer saw when he returned. He took you, he already had whatever you had to give.

Your skin was still warm and damp when you landed back on the bed stomach first. You didn't mean to fall back asleep either, your body more tired than your mind.

ꕤ

Again, you had no idea how long it had been. You woke up to the bed moving, stomach sinking.

A soft chirping noise and two paws pressing into your back brought you out of the anxious spiral you were falling through and you now wanted to cry with joy. You turned on your back and scooped Milo into your arms, holding him tighter than he wanted to be held but still he tolerated you.

The sound of his purring did more good for you than you thought it could. Your lips and nose pressed into the fur of his neck, you wanted to cry. You looked up, Spencer was standing at the foot of the bed, button up and tie still on.

"Thank you." Your voice shook slightly, having not been used for anything but crying. He only nodded, looking at you with sympathy. Good, he was responsible for putting you through this, he should feel nothing but sympathetic. You knew he knew how bothered you were, your eyes were still swollen from crying, your skin tinted red from the hot water earlier.

Milo's fur was soft and warm, your hands never left him as you sat up slowly. "Spencer? what time is it?" You asked, holding back a yawn. You looked him in his eyes, his gaze darted away from you immediately and shot around the room before locking in on yours. Spencer still was bad with eye contact, but he was forcing himself to maintain it right now. To scare you? Show dominance? Or maybe to express admiration toward you? You knew you'd have to relearn all of Spencer's mannerisms now, you can't completely go off of who you thought he was before.

“It’s around 6 in the evening, you’ve slept a lot, I’ve been gone for far more than twenty four hours.” He spoke, rounding the edge of the bed and stepping closer to you. You would’ve expected yourself to flinch back or move away from him but you didn’t actually mind him getting closer surprisingly.

You nodded. “I need a clock, I don’t know what time it is ever and I can’t tell if it’s night or day. I had no idea you were gone so long.” You were quieter than you meant to be, throat sore from earlier. You shuffled out of the bed and stood in front of Spencer, feeling only slightly intimidated as he looked down at you, looking over your body that was more exposed than he’d ever seen before, as far as you knew. He moved his hand forward and you moved back looking down at the slippers he held. “Thank you.” You whispered.

He nodded his head toward the door so you put the slippers on and picked up Milo, walking into the main room with Spencer. You sat with Milo on one of the couches and Spencer got you a glass of water, handing it to you. Your hands were much colder than his, his warm skin brushing against yours sent a shiver down your spine and heat to your face. You thanked him again.

“Have you been crying?” He sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes, I have. I’m sorry.” You admitted. You could feel how noticeable hoarse your throat was, your eyes felt puffy the way they do every time you cry.

“Are you sorry for crying? Or sorry for lying about it.” He tilted his head at you and you found yourself unable to meet his eyes, despite how inviting they seemed.

You distracted yourself, running your nails through Milo’s fur, you shrugged your shoulders. “Both?” You were unsure, and that answer wasn’t right, Spencer sighed and shook his head. You felt sick at that, however guilty rather than scared.

“Don’t ever be sorry for crying. It only makes sense, there are a lot of changes happening. But you will not lie to me, do you understand?” He asked, his voice got deeper as he spoke, more authoritative. “Why were you crying, angel?”

“I don’t know.” You trailed off for a moment, taking a sip of your water, he was patient as he waited for you to continue. “I was really lonely, and nervous. And I feel like, I feel like a lot of people are worried about me now that they don’t know I’m here.” You said shakily. You avoided words like “kidnapped” and “missing”. From what you could tell, Spencer didn’t view you as his victim, but something else you couldn’t understand yet. He didn’t ‘kidnap’ you, he believes he just brought you home.

You understood though that Spencer was smarter than that, he can read situations pretty well, and doing what he does, he must understand that this is technically a kidnapping.

“Yes. People are worried. The team has begun looking for you, and your family has been notified.” He looked at you with those big doe eyes that told you everything and nothing about how he felt, what he was thinking. He felt sympathy for you, you knew that.

“My family? What- what happened, how are they?” You asked, tears welled up in your eyes again but you didn’t want to cry, you just held Milo slightly tighter.

“Agent Morgan called your mother and explained your status as well as the state your apartment was left in, he explained to her what we think so far. She’s very upset but she has support, and she’ll be flying out to Quantico to be with us during the investigation.” He explained, you couldn’t look in his eyes anymore so you simply watched his hands as they moved with his words.

You nodded your head in understanding, still wanting to cry. You wanted to ask about the investigation, the search, ask about the team. But you could only think about Derek.

“What about- what about Derek? How is he doing? Is he okay?” As soon as you asked, Spencer’s demeanour changed. His jaw tightened and he stood up. Startled, you stood with him, staring up at him as he scowled.

“Derek does not matter, Don’t-”

“Yes he does, he matters to me, is he okay?” You cut him off, reaching up to point but he grabbed your wrist tightly. You felt a tear slip and Spencer only looked angrier, not showing sympathy like he had in the past.

“Do not interrupt me. Derek does not matter anymore.” He was loud, his hand twitched at his side. ‘Anymore’. The word made you feel sick. Had he killed Derek? You looked down at his twitching hand, then at his gun in the holster attached to his belt. Did he kill Derek with that gun?

Before you even thought about your options, you were reaching for the gun, you weren’t as fast as you felt, the gun was heavy in your clammy hands. You hadn’t even gotten the safety off before Spencer snatched it from your hand by the barrel, pulling back and then pistol-whipping you across your face, your nose and right eye taking most of the impact.

You fell back onto the couch, staring at Spencer, stunned. You could hear Milo jump off the couch and hide underneath it, you could hear Spencer’s breathing, he still was fuming.

“What would you have done?” You jumped at the volume of his voice. “You would have shot me? And then what? You and that cat would starve and die here. You need me. You need me!” You continued to flinch from his tone and volume.

He got on his knees and grabbed your hand, putting the gun in it. He held your hand tight, you were too in shock to properly hold it yourself. He brought the barrel to his forehead. “Shoot me. Fucking shoot me. What are you waiting for? Huh? Nobody’s coming to save you, nobody’s taking you from me. Shoot me and see what fucking happens, you will die down here.” He lowered his volume some, but his words were still fast and angry.

That’s when you started crying, for some reason being triggered by the idea of killing Spencer. You cried so loud and hard. Then you started to taste the blood and that’s when you realized your nose was bleeding, a lot. It took you a moment to register Spencer’s hands on your face, cradling your head. You cried more now that he was touching you, but still you leaned desperately into his touch.

“It’s okay angel, it’s okay baby, I’m so sorry I hurt you. I had to do that, you can’t touch my gun, it’s so dangerous.” He pet your hair back and lifted your arms over his shoulders, sliding his hands under your bare thighs and picking you up.

Your hands locked behind his neck as he carried you to the bathroom, he was much stronger than you’d guess, he carried you with shocking ease and sat you on the counter.

“I just have to clean you up baby okay? It’s okay angel.” He got a cloth from a drawer and wet it with warm water, bringing it up and gently pressing it against your aching nose.

“O-okay.” Your voice was syrupy and sad, muffled with tears and blood. You still continued to cry, and Spencer didn’t react poorly, just bringing his thumb up to brush away the tears.

Then you noticed the blood on his shirt, splatters and droplets on the collar of his white button up. “I’m sorry I bled on you.” You hiccuped and he smiled softly, his smile alone giving you so much relief. He wasn’t mad anymore.

“I’m sorry I gave you a nosebleed angel.” He hummed softly, moving the cloth so that he could press the side that was clean of blood against your nose that was bleeding much less.

“S’okay Spencer.” You hummed. You were still crying, it wasn’t okay, but you felt like it was. Head dizzy, you really only cared about the warm cloth and Spencer’s comforting touches.

“I gotta make sure it’s not broken, okay?” He asked and you nodded, immediately regretting the movement of your head as it made you feel sick and in pain.

He cupped the sides of your face gently and ran his thumbs down either side of the bridge of your nose, making sure it was all intact. He nodded his head and leaned forward, kissing the tender bridge quick enough that you didn’t get to process it.

“You’re covered in blood angel. I’m gonna run you a bath.” He spoke calmly and soft, it seemed like he was telling you, like you didn’t have a say in the matter but you couldn’t care, you were to stunned and tired to say anything anyway. He leaned you back until you were resting against the mirror and turned around to the bath.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you watched him. He filled the bath, putting a bit of soap in the water but not enough for there to be any bubbles. Finally he turned around to you.

You didn’t protect as he gently placed his hands on the side of your thighs, sliding you forward and encouraging you to sit up more. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it up over your head, careful not to bump your nose or shake your head much.

When your shirt was off, his eyes scanned your body, focusing on your chest for a moment. He visibly and audibly swallowed, it took him 6 seconds to regain himself before he was looking at your eyes again. He brought his hands to your hips, hooking his fingertips in the band of your underwear, and that’s when you tensed up.

He stopped immediately. “We’ll leave these on.” He smiled reassuringly and pet your hips gently with his thumbs. “Okay?” He spoke and waited until you repeated him before he picked you up, turning around and carefully lowering you in the tub. “Is the temperature okay?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you.” You felt so exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He nodded his head and quickly began to wash you with a fresh washcloth, ridding your skin of any blood and sweat.

You weren’t in the bath long before he helped you out. You were fine to walk around, just slowly, carefully. You stood on your own while he grabbed you a towel, wrapping it around you. He reached up under it and carefully pulled down your wet underwear, keeping his eyes on yours as he allowed you to step out of them. He put them and your shirt with the rest of your dirty clothes from earlier and helped you dry off before he walked you back into the bedroom.

When you got in the bedroom, Milo was already sitting on the bed. Spencer went to the wardrobe to get you more clothes, but you were so exhausted, you didn’t care to get dressed. You simply dropped your towel and crawled into the bed that was still remarkably comfortable.

You heard him walk around the bed and rest his hand on your shoulder. “Are you still tired? It’s a response from stress most likely. You can get some sleep, and then you’ll eat, okay?” He spoke and you hummed quietly in agreement. “I’ll go sleep on a couch angel.” He stated and suddenly you were sitting up, holding tightly on his wrist.

“Can you um, can you maybe stay in here with me? Please?” You sounded pathetic but you didn’t care or notice even, you just knew that the idea of him leaving the room made you feel sick.

He didn’t respond, but he walked over to the door and shut it, flicking the light switch. He kicked off his shoes and took his belt off, laying it on the desk with his gun. He happily, excitedly got into the bed behind you.

You kept your distance, aware of your nakedness, not ready to sleep with him and cuddle him all at once. It took you minutes- seconds before you were comfortably fast asleep.

Thank you for reading!! I’m sorry for my disappearance! I got shadowbanned :(

Taglist: @justanerd1 @the-sun-died-out @eddies-van86 @natashaashleymarvelromanoff @tuesday-yellowxx @niyahwhoreworld @wilcherwatchers

Just let me know if you want to be added <3

#spencer reid x reader #dark fic #dark spencer reid #kidnapping #kidnapping fic #tw kidnapping #spencer reid #angst #spencer reid angst #eventual smut #smut #spencer reid smut #stockholm syndrome #criminal minds

300 notes · View notes

hoboal87 · 7 months

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Don't Speak, Part 22

Pairings: dark!Sam x Reader, dark!Dean x Claire

Characters: dark!Sam, dark!Dean, pregnant!Reader, Claire, Ellen, Bobby, Adam

Warnings: dark!Winchesters, Trauma Bonding/Stockholm Syndrome, Non-graphic descriptions of Non-Con/Rape, Violence, Manipulation, Guilt, Threats, Pregnancy

WC: 3400+

beta’d by the wonderful, lovely, @writethelifeyouwant

This is a dark!fic that includes potentially triggering content and is intended for mature audiences only. You are responsible for your own media consumption, so please, read the warnings and if you feel that you may be triggered and/or offended please move along. If you have any questions about the warnings/tags please feel free to DM me.

Don’t Speak Masterlist

My Full Masterlist

Part 21

The sight of Adam nearly causes you to faint. You have hoped, prayed, that somehow he managed to escape–that he wouldn’t also fall victim to the brothers–and your heart pounds in your chest as you take in the sight of him. Old and new cuts and bruises cover every visible inch of his body, his eyes are sunken in, his skin taut, and he looks as if hasn’t slept or eaten in weeks. A ratty shirt that had once fit him properly is now held together by mere threads and covered in dried blood stains. But the worst part is the metal collar locked around his neck, connecting to his wrists and ankles. Adam’s gaze fixes on you for a moment, the ghost of a smile on his lips fading quickly when Sam tugs sharply on the shackles.

You want to run to him, apologize for ever bringing him into your complicated relationship with the Winchesters. You should’ve disobeyed John, especially now that you know that it wasn’t Adam who fathered your baby after all, and you were already pregnant when the family left in January. If you’d only waited a few weeks longer to fulfill John’s instructions, you could’ve saved yourself and Adam from all the pain that you caused by following those orders. You stop yourself from moving, especially when you realize that Sam’s eyes are narrowed in on you, as if he’s waiting to see what you’re going to do now that Adam is here.

“Check her,” Dean orders, gesturing towards Claire, baby Amelia still in his arms. Adam doesn’t move, his eyes flickering to Sam, as if he’s asking him for permission to follow Dean’s instruction. What has Sam done to him? “Now, Milligan.”

Sam nods, loosening his grip before producing a key, he unlocks the chains and Adam shuffles towards Claire. Dean hands the baby over to you, stepping back to Sam, who offers a hand to shake his brother’s in congratulations.

You rock the baby in your arms as Adam inspects Claire, taking in her tiny features. Though you knew it wouldn’t matter who fathered Amelia, you can’t help but think of the relief that Claire will have knowing that her husband is Amelia’s father. She’s the spitting image of Dean, plump lips and a button nose and large almond shaped eyes, irises already tinged with green. As the brothers share hushed words between them, you walk back towards Claire, shushing Amelia as she begins to stir. Adam offers a sweet smile to Claire telling her that she did well before giving strict instructions to stay on bedrest for the next week. He then turns to you, reaching out to take the baby from your arms. Your skin prickles under his touch and you lock eyes, and again you fight the urge to tell him how sorry you are.

He gives Amelia a quick once over, the newborn wailing in his arms, and he gently shushes her before handing her back to Claire.

“Your wife and daughter are both perfectly healthy,” Adam says meekly as he approaches Dean and Sam.

There’s a snide smile on Sam’s face as Dean takes in Adam’s words. At first you don’t understand what Sam is finding funny; recently he’d been just as obsessed with heirs as John was. John had mentioned more times than you can remember about the brothers’ needing heirs. Legitimate male heirs. Mr. Finch’s words from months echo in your ears as though it was just repeated in the quiet room.

Tell me you want me to put a son in you.

“I guess that means the Manor is mine,” Sam snickers, a poor attempt at a joke that Dean clearly doesn’t find funny, and the elder brother puts his fist through the wall behind him. You back away from the brothers as a remark from Dean sets Sam seething, and he tackles Dean to the ground. Grunting and the sounds of fists hitting flesh fill the room as the brothers tumble across the floor.

With the Winchesters occupied, you seize the opportunity–albeit a foolish one–and grab Adam’s hand. You guide him towards the passageway that you and Dean entered from earlier in the night, stopping briefly at the bed to place a kiss on Claire’s forehead and promise you’ll get her out, too. You instruct her to call for Bobby or Ellen before disappearing into the passageway. With the door closed behind you, you make for your and Sam’s room hoping that, once you get there, you and Adam can escape.

You quickly realize that it may not have been the best idea to use the secret passage, though. From your and Sam’s room, it seemed to be a straight shot, but what you failed to notice before is that there are multiple connections, and you don’t know which one leads where.

“Which one, Y/N?” Adam pants behind you.

“I don’t– I’m not sure,” you sob, cradling your stomach. This isn’t a good idea, you could end up quite literally anywhere in the Manor. “Maybe we should go back, if they don’t know we’re gone–”

“I think it’s too late for that, Kitten,” Adam grabs your hand. “And I– I can’t go back. Think, sweetheart.”

Each hall looks nearly identical to the other. If you’d paid closer attention before, you wouldn’t now be stuck in a labyrinth behind the walls of Winchester Manor. You fall against the wall, cursing yourself for thinking that you could get yourself and Adam out of here.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” you mumble. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t’ve– If I’d told them the truth, Dean would’ve never–”

Adam sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around you gingerly and pulling you close to him. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

You let out a deep breath. The longer you sit here, the greater the chance that Sam or Dean would realize that you’re trying to escape and figure out how you were doing it. If Claire was able to alert Bobby to the fighting brothers, there was a good chance they wouldn’t be able to get to her just yet.

As your eyes adjust to the barely lit corridor, you see something on the adjacent wall– an SW and DW etched into it, and you decide that hall must be the one they used to sneak into the other’s room. You struggle to stand and Adam catches on quickly, rising himself before offering you a hand to help you up. You guide him towards the walkway, excitement filling you as you reach the door to Sam’s room, knowing that you and Adam are close to freedom.

“Y’know, every time I think we’ve broken you, you somehow manage to get just enough of your fight back to do something so fucking stupid, Y/N.” A voice makes you turn and you see a pistol pointing at you and Adam. Your heart stops. Sam’s sporting what looks to be the beginning of a black eye and has a slight limp as he takes a few steps towards the two of you. “I thought we were past all this, Princess.”

“It was me,” Adam steps in front of you, “I made her do it.”

“Is this true, Y/N?” Sam asks, eyeing you sternly while fixing the pistol solely on Adam. You’re torn, afraid that Sam might kill Adam if you go along with the lie, but even more afraid of what Sam will do to you both if you tell the truth.

Adam turns his head slightly so that you can meet his eyes, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod, encouraging you to play along.

“Yes,” you mumble, and as soon as the word leaves your mouth, Sam closes the distance between him and Adam and hits him too many times to count with the butt of the pistol until the doctor’s body falls to the floor with a thunk. Angry red marks cover Adam’s face and a stream of blood flows from his mouth and nose. Sam uses his shirt to wipe down the pistol, staining it red, before stomping on Adam’s hand and then his stomach. He turns away, smirking as he disappears out of the room.

Adam’s face is swelling within seconds, and you drop to your knees, hoping and praying that Sam hasn’t killed him. You place your hand under his nose, breathing out a sigh of relief when you feel a faint breath against your fingers.

“He attacked Y/N, Bobby, I had to stop him,” Sam’s voice carries from the hall.

When you look up, you see Sam and Bobby entering the room from the main doorway. You can’t remember the last time you’d seen him or Ellen.

“We need to get him back downstairs,” Sam urges, sounding rattled.

“Are you sure that’s what happened here, Sam? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you beat the tar out of him for no reason,” Bobby retorts.

“He’s been obsessed with Y/N for months. He’s the one who attacked her and Claire last year! If Dean hadn’t found them…” You’re not sure why Sam’s ability for lying comes as a shock to you. “Y/N, sweetheart, he can’t hurt you,” Sam reaches out for you, and helps you up, wrapping his arm possessively around your shoulders.

“Why do you think I’ve been keeping her close? I couldn’t risk something else happening to her. He’s delusional, Bobby. You want to know what he told Dean?” Sam doesn’t wait for a response, plowing on in his tirade. “He said that he was our brother– that he deserved everything we had. That if we didn’t allow him to continue caring for Y/N and Claire, that he would make sure everyone in town knew about Joanna. I love Joanna like a sister; we couldn’t let her reputation be tarnished because dad wouldn’t allow Dean to marry her. You know no matter how much he discouraged it, they were sweethearts. Dean only sent her away because he thought it was what dad wanted, but dad included her in his will, Bobby. He knew that it was Dean’s child. And she and Henry should be here with us. Tell Ellen to bring her here.”

Sam is speaking so quickly and erratically that you can barely keep up. You haven’t seen Joanna since John’s funeral, and all you were told when you asked about her absence previously was that she was ill. You’d caught her and Dean in compromising positions more than once. Is that why she’s been gone? To have her baby in secret so that no one would know that she was unmarried and pregnant? To save herself and Ellen the embarrassment of having an illegitimate child? You watch as Bobby takes in everything Sam has said.

“I might not be an educated man, Sam, but I ain’t stupid.” Bobby narrows his eyes. “I’ve known you your whole life–I practically raised you–and you think I don’t know when you’re lyin’? Your daddy paid Adam to watch over the girls and help ensure safe deliveries. And you’ve been keeping him locked up for months. You think Ellen and me can’t see the bruises, that we don’t hear the screams? You think that little of us, boy? You think that you can use us to keep covering up your and Dean’s messes?”

“I think,” –Sam steps forward, the facade of a man scared for the life of his wife and child dropped now, his voice lowering dangerously– “if you don’t do as you’re told…” He leans forward and you can no longer make out his words. Bobby’s face drains of color, his eyes wide, and his whole body goes stiff as Sam pulls away. “Have I made myself clear, Robert?” Bobby nods his head. You’d never seen Sam interact this way with Bobby, and whatever he said clearly has Bobby afraid for his life.

“But you are right about one thing; Y/N and Claire, they’ll need someone to look after them while Dean and I take our next case. Take him to the servants quarters and tend to his injuries. Once he’s healed, he is only allowed to see Y/N under your or Ellen’s supervision. Is that understood? And I wasn’t just carrying on about Joanna. Dean and I will expect her and Henry moved in by the time we return. Now, get him out of here and send someone to clean up this mess.”

Bobby only nods, moving towards Adam and picking him up off the floor. A pained groan leaves Adam, and for a brief moment his eyelids flutter. Sam locks the door behind them as Bobby exits, and you’re not sure what to expect from him next. He stalks towards you, tearing off his shirt. You make a decision that you’re sure you’ll regret, and try to grab the pistol, but Sam beats you to it.

“I know it wasn’t Adam’s idea to escape,” he growls, grabbing your arm roughly. “But the fact that you let him take the fall for it–that was surprising. How do you keep managing to surprise me, Y/N?” Sam’s hand snakes up your back before grabbing your loose hair and yanking your head back. “And going for this?” he waves the pistol in front of your face, “was even more unexpected. Maybe I need to teach you another lesson,” he grunts with a pull of your hair, causing you to whimper.

“Please, Sam, I promise I’ll be good.”

Sam moves you both towards the bed, and when the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you fall backward. He lifts your nightdress over your belly and exposes your breasts, the gun tracing your silhouette, and for a moment you’re afraid he might try to fuck you with it, but instead he sets it down after a moment, just out of your reach, and pins your hands above your head. He enters you roughly, giving you no time to adjust, and sets a fast and brutal pace. Your focus falls to the window as you wait for him to finish.

August

Claire is given a clean bill of health by Dorothy a few days later, and with that the brothers are gone. A weight is lifted off your shoulders, and you feel like you can finally breathe for the first time in months. Under Sam’s orders, Joanna is back in the Manor within a week and is assigned to be the children’s wetnurse and nanny. You, Claire and Joanna are all moved into the rooms closest to the nursery which now houses both Amelia and Henry. A third bassinet sits empty waiting for your baby to fill it.

Several new servants were brought in by Dean before they’d left nearly a month prior and according to him they were there to protect you, Claire, Joanna, and the children. You aren’t sure who Dean thinks you need protecting from, especially when he and Sam were the only people in the Manor who had ever hurt you, but you have to admit knowing that Dean is concerned about the well-being of all of you is heartening.

Benny, the guard assigned to you, is nice enough, and for the most part gives you a wide berth. He’s larger than Dean but not as tall as Sam, and you can see why Dean had hired him. He accompanies you on your daily walks through the grounds and escorts you everywhere else in the Manor. Though you insist that it isn’t necessary, he maintains that he was given explicit instructions to stay by your side.

For the weeks following you fall into a routine; morning walks with Benny, afternoons spent with Claire as she heals and the babies, and evenings exploring the Manor, you’d been there for so long, but hadn’t truly been out of the East Wing. Each week, Bobby receives a letter from Dean and the time frame of their absence is extended another week. Once one case is finished, the brothers would start working another one, and a part of you wonders if they ever truly plan to return back to Kansas.

True to Sam’s word, the one and only time you’ve seen Adam since the brothers’ departure is under Bobby’s watchful eye. There was so much you wanted to say to him: apologize for getting him involved, not only once, but twice. If you hadn’t made a stupid and feeble attempt at an escape, and hadn’t let him take the blame, you’d both be better off. He hardly says anything to you, speaking mostly in two or three word sentences, before declaring you to be in good health. You attempt to follow Bobby and Adam when they exit, but to your dismay, Benny stops you, instead taking you in the opposite direction.

There’s a knowing look on Ellen’s face when she enters your room the next day, ordering Benny to help himself to lunch, while you and she tend to “wifely” things. Once Benny has disappeared, she asks you to follow her, guiding you to a secret door that you’ve never noticed before, and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner that the Manor had to be filled with multiple passageways, linking more than just bedrooms.

Ellen briefly tells you how to recognize which passage leads where and how you can use the secret corridors to go between the different wings of the house, pointing to one in particular that, according to her, might be of interest to you, and another hall that, if you were so inclined, would lead you outdoors. You don’t miss the implication of the information that she’s given you, but you know you can’t leave. Sam and Dean still need you. After your last night together–before they’d gone away–you were woken up to loving touches and sweet words from your husband that reminded you why you’d ever fallen for him in the first place. Beneath the brutality and the bouts of mania, there is a kind and sweet Sam that you cherish. If you could give Sam and Dean the son they both so desperately want, maybe things could change.

You know you need to cast Adam out of your thoughts. You can’t be a loyal wife to Sam and Dean if you also have feelings for Adam– you need closure. You could tell him how the passages work, and maybe he could escape. With the brothers extending their trip so much, he could be far away by the time they return. It was the least you could do for him.

You consider for days when might would be best to try to find Adam and help him escape. You’re sure Ellen was giving you a clue as to where he was being kept, but you won’t dare ask her for more clarification. According to Dean’s most recent letter, the brothers aren’t expected to return for at least another week. The sooner you helped Adam leave, the more time he could have getting out of Kansas City, the state, or even the country if he so desired. You doubt the brothers thought him important enough to chase all over the world; he’d fulfilled his deal with John, there was no reason for him to stay to just deliver your baby.

As the week comes to a close, you know you have to make a decision, and soon. After dinner is served that night, you and Claire spend the rest of the evening in the nursery, chatting and playing with the babies, before Ellen orders you both out so that she and Joanna can put them to bed, leaving one oil lamp burning as a nightlight for the children, as one of the new guards takes his place outside the nursery door.

Benny escorts you the short distance to your room, offering you a “goodnight, cher” as you close the door behind you. You’re confident that Benny won’t disturb you for the rest of the night, so you make the decision that tonight is the night to free Adam. You grab your own oil lamp from the beside, quickly filling it with the reserve kept in your room to ensure you had enough light to see Adam outside.

You creep through the hidden door in your room and make your way down the hall Ellen had said would be “of interest”, hoping that you didn’t misunderstand her tone, and you wouldn’t be walking into something much worse than finding Adam. You’re not sure how long you follow the grimey and dim corridor, you hoped that you could maybe get an idea of where exactly you were in the Manor, but with multiple ones branching off you realize you could be anywhere.

Part 23

Feedback is fuel! Please tell me what you think!

#dark!fic #dark!sam x reader #dark!dean x claire #non-con #stockholm syndrome #tw: abuse #sam x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #angst #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader

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introspectivememories · 2 months

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if you're writing a charles fic, it must have some aspect of boyking. he must lean a little on the childgod side. he has to be revered a little bit, adored even. if people aren't talking about him like they wouldn't wash his feet and adorn it with perfume like mary magdalene washed and adorned jesus' feet, you're doing it wrong.

#LOOK AT HIM #nearly every image of charles has some aspect of religious imagery to it #that one image of the spanish gp 2021 where he has his hands in front of him and he's looking up at the sky.... madonna in prayer #fuckin look at the entire country of italy. do i even have to say anything?#look at the way ferrari loves him. the way they hold him. press kisses onto his helmet. comfort him. reassure him.#look at vanzini naming him 'il predestinato' all the way back in 2012!! maranello's sun/son!!!!#everyone's always like 'oh stockholm syndrome! stockholm syndrome!' babe he's never leaving them.#he's choosing this!!! he loves this!!!! he's in this scuderia ferrari shit for life like the rest of us!!!!#but he returns it all!!!#look at him saying 'if ferrari is a cage then i would like to be kept in that cage my whole life'!!!#'why stay with ferrari?' / "i have always been a tifosi. i have always loved her. that is reason enough.'#even the most recent contract renewal where he said and i quote:#now my own dream remains. a dream that writes itself in red. tifosi the dream continues.#and like red?? like blood? like the blood that dripped down jesus' temples when they place the crown of thorns on his head?#red like the suit? like the car? like the boyking they have made you out to be? the childgod you have become?#when he won in monza i think it was too late for us. i think it rewrote something in us. i think he ascended that day.#the closest the narrative has come to consuming him. when he wins again in monza (and he will win in monza again) it will change us again #i have to stop before it gets me too. who said all that? i need to go lay down.#charles leclerc #cl16 #scuderia ferrari #f1 #introspective.txt #and obviously you can write you fics however the hell you want. this is just how i like mine.

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

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Darkness of the Heart

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

You can’t help but have a little crush on the handsome star reporter at the Daily Planet, but he wants so much more

Warnings: dark!superman, implied kidnapping, violence, m masturbation, manipulation, sedatives, needles, innocent!reader, age-gap (reader is over 18), naive!reader, blood

WC: 3.5k

A/N: Later parts will have content like non-con, dub-con, forced pregnancy, kidnapping, and Stockholm Syndrome so this is a massive warning now

Minors DNI

Credit: google

Part 1

The First Date

Your feet were constantly sore nowadays but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care. Working for the Daily Planet, even if you were just an intern, was a dream come true. 5 days a week for 8 hours everyday, you wore heels and ran around the office floor, delivering coffees, making copies, delivering assignments, and on special occasions, helping to edit articles for the paper.

Sometimes, when everyone was busy and you had no other work to do, you would sneak off to the break room in the back of the office, the one that was barely used, and take off the three inch high monstrosities that gave you leg cramps for days. That’s how you met him.

You sighed in relief as you slipped your stocking covered feet from the black cone heels you bought on sale years ago that you had sitting in the back of your closet. You definitely regretted not breaking them in. The cool tile felt amazing on your sore feet, and you leaned back in the slightly unstable metal chair. Fishing your big thermos from your bag, you poured yourself a small cup of tea into the little mug from the jar.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone was in here.” The deep baritone with a slight southern twang shaking you from your thoughts. The man stood in the doorway, his body so huge that he nearly filled out the wide entryway. His dark hair was unruly, he had obviously been running his fingers through it, his shockingly blue eyes bright behind the thick frames of his glasses. He had on a simple white button with black slacks and a brown tie. “Oh Mr Kent! Sorry, I just- never mind, is there something I can help you with?”

He waved you off, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. “Please just call me Clark. I was just hoping to escape my ex for a minute but it seems you’ve found my hiding place.” He gave you a cheeky wink which made you squirm in your seat. “Well there isn’t a monopoly on hiding places, so you could join me. But only if you want! You don’t have to.”

The chair legs scrapped the floor as he pulled it out from under the table, taking a seat directly across from you. Even sitting down, Clark was taller than you, his intimidating frame offset by his kind smile. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flick down to his chest where the buttons of his white button-down were straining to contain his muscles. Clearing your throat, you looked away bashfully. “You’re Y/N right?” That caught you off guard. “Um yeah. How did you know?”

He huffed but the smile on his face widened. “Of course I would know the person that has been helping to edit my articles. I have no clue how you make me sound so smart. You must have some kind of magic.” Your cheeks heated and you couldn’t bring yourself to look into those cerulean eyes. “I wouldn’t say that, you’re really intelligent already, just maybe sometimes, your grammar isn’t amazing.”

The reporter threw his head back and gave a deep belly laugh, you smiled shyly, crossing your feet over each other as your hands played with the hem of your black work skirt. “Any other critics I should know about?” He teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. You just shrugged. “Maybe invest in some spelling lessons too.” After another round of chuckles, he settled back into his chair.

You easily settled into a light conversation with the man, surprised by how similar you were. You found yourself relaxing the more you talked, suddenly the huge powerhouse reporter was just a nervous (and slightly cheeky) farm boy that wanted to know everything about you, and by god was it flattering.

There was a brief lull in conversation when you stopped to pour yourself some more tea, which Clark had politely declined when you asked him, and his eyes flicked down to the floor, a cheeky smirk coming over his beautiful face.

“I guess you don’t appreciate the office dress code.” He chuckled, gesturing down to your abandoned shoes. “Ha ha yeah, I’ve never worn heels before so it’s tough getting used to them. But honestly, I’d take this pain any day cause it means I get to work here!” “Oh well I don’t know if you should be sacrificing your health for any job but it’s good to know you’re so dedicated.” A shiver rolled down your spine at his concerned tone. “It’s worth it if I get to meet my heroes!”

Clark leaned forward, propping his head up with his elbow on the table, his massive hand cradling his chilled jaw. “Lemme guess, Perry?” “I’ll say yes to that because I don’t want your head to get any bigger than it already is.” You giggled behind your cup but quickly stopped as the aforementioned man entered the room behind Clark.

“Ms Y/L/N, there you are, I have some assignments I need you to deliver and then you can head home for the day.” You scrambled to clean up your little nook, slipping your heels back on your still sore feet, trying to hide your wince as the pain started again. “Yes of course. I’ll get that done now.” The older man nodded his thanks, handing you a big stack of manilla folders. “Clark, we’ve got a meeting in 15 minutes, don’t forget.”

“I’ll be there. Hey um Y/N could you hang back a second?” His voice suddenly went from confident to nervous boy as he hunched his shoulders to make himself look smaller. Perry gave him a puzzled look before sighing and leaving the room, muttering something about office romances. You turned your body to him, listening intently. “Yeah, um what did you need me for?”

Avoiding eye-contact, Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just wondering if you would like to maybe have dinner with me tonight? There’s this great ramen place only a few blocks from here.” Did the most gorgeous man you had ever met ask you out on a date? Yes he did. And were you just standing there, mouth open in shock like an idiot. Also yes.

“N-nevermind, it was stupid-“ “Yes.” You stopped his rant before it really started. “I would love to go to dinner with you, Clark.” The smile he gave you was absolutely dazzling as he sprung to his feet, vibrating with excitement. “Great! I mean um, that’s good. I should probably get your number so I can let you know where to meet.” You fished a pen and post-it note from your purse, quickly jotting down your cell-phone number with a little heart at the end.

You handed him the note. “I guess I’ll see you tonight Clark.” Your fingers brushing his slightly, he was so warm. You thought you handled that well, stayed cool even if you were screaming and jumping for joy on the inside. As soon as you rounded the corner to where he couldn’t see you, you squealed and did a little happy dance, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You just scored a date with the cutest guy ever! This was so worth the sore feet. You darted through the office, quickly delivering the folders so you could get home and spend the next few hours going through your entire closet in deciding what to wear but definitely no heels.

——————

Clark smirked down at the pink post-it note you handed to him. Of course, he already knew your number, he knew everything about you. He had been infatuated with you since he saw you two months ago when Perry first hired you.

You were so young, incredibly beautiful and naïve. Clark likes that about you, how flustered you get when he smiles at you, the way you squeak in embarrassment when someone makes a dirty joke in front of you. He can only imagine the sounds you make when he claims you.

Fuck, it was so hard coming into work every day just to see your plump body running around everywhere, paying attention to everybody but him. The way your arms and legs jiggled as you moved, your tits bouncing wildly with every step. How your lips separated slightly when you were lost in your own thoughts. He once even caught a glimpse of your little white panties beneath your stockings when your skirt rose up as you bent over to pick something up.

He had practically sprinted to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock. He spilled onto his hand crying your name, nearly crushing the wall to the stall in his firm grip. It was a waste of his cum but he just couldn’t stop himself.

And now, you were practically his. Just a few dates, just a little touching, a bit of hand-holding, some innocent kisses to the cheek, and hugs here and there, and you would fall into his arms, forever.

——————

The restaurant was quaint. Only a few tables that faced the open window kitchen where the divine smells wafted into the rest of the small space. You nervously stepped over the threshold, the hem of your baby blue summer dress swaying around your plump thighs. You paired the spaghetti strap dress with a light wash jean jacket and white converse with little flowers you had embroidered into them.

You were the picture of innocence, standing there fiddling with your fingers, wide eyes scanning the room, a little purse hanging off your shoulder. The only jewelry you had was a little pendant necklace that sat right on your exposed collarbone, enticing Clark’s eyes down to the fat of your breasts which was covered entirely by your dress, showing not even a little hint of cleavage.

Clark waved at you, drawing your attention to the huge man who had somehow fit himself onto one of the small wooden chairs near the back. He preened as your smile grew when you spotted him and you hurried over. The reporter pulled your chair out for you, head dipping down so he could get a whiff of your hair, he really couldn’t help himself. Your natural smell was overpowered by the cheap flowery perfume you had put on.

He’d put a stop to that soon enough, but for now he settled with the faint scent of your honeyed musk that clung to the back of your neck. “I’m glad you picked here, this spot is really cute.” You gushed, picking up the small menu as he sat back down across from you, the dark red of his henley, he had obviously changed before coming here, made his eyes pop even more. “I thought it was a good spot for a first date. The tables are small so I can do this.” He laid his large hand over your smaller one, giving it a little squeeze.

You squeaked but allowed Clark to rest your hands on the table, his palm engulfing yours as he placed his thick fingers on your wrist. “So, what are you thinking of getting?”

You both were smiling like idiots as your orders arrived, too caught up in each other to notice the huge bowls of soup until they were placed directly before you. You tried to pull your hand away, flustered at being caught being so affectionate in a public place. “Can I have my hand back?” Your voice was unexpectedly shaky. But Clark held strong, lifting your knuckles to his plump lips, laying a small kiss to your skin.

“Now you can.” Letting go of your now shaking hand, he winked at you, making your heart leap. “Clark.” You practically whimpered, holding your hand to your chest as if savouring the small kiss he had given you.

“What, it’s not like you’ve never had someone give you a kiss before~” He teased, picking up his chopsticks. “You have kissed someone before right?” He asked after a beat of silence. You shook your head. “This is my first ever date.” You whispered, ashamed of your inexperience compared to the older man. Clark’s blue eyes widened in shock, of course he already knew, Bruce did a real deep dive for him, but you didn’t ever need to know about that.

“Seriously? How? You’re gorgeous!” “Well you’d be the only one to think that then. I was bullied a lot as a kid and I guess people don’t really like the fat girl.” You shrugged, folding in on yourself, suddenly aware of how much food you had ordered. “Oh no no no. Please don’t doubt yourself. You are a beautiful young woman and those people must be fools for not seeing how truly amazing and beautiful you are. But their loss is my gain cause right now, I have the most divine woman in the world sitting across from me, letting me take her on a date.”

Clark was so big that he easily reached across the table and cupped your face, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. You tried to look away but those big glimmering eyes were hypnotising and you couldn’t help but believe what he was saying. “Ok.” You were quiet but that was enough for him. “Good. Now that we’ve got that sorted, I am starving.”

——————

“I had such a wonderful time tonight.” Clark’s right arm was wrapped tightly around your thick waist, his hand resting on your plump stomach. You had, at first, shied away when he wrapped you in a hug after your meal. His face fell into a little frown and he held you closer, bending down to rest his forehead against yours, the little black curls brushing your skin.

“Please don’t run from me.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him. The pure sadness in his tone made you slump back into his arms, your own winding around his muscular torso to keep him close. “Never.” And his smile returned.

Like a real gentleman, he offered to walk you home, especially considering it was now completely dark out and you didn’t live in a great part of town. He let you ramble on about your day, giving little anecdotes here and there but otherwise remaining quiet. As you reached your door, he drew you back into his huge arms, the heat from his body soaking into you, the smell of his cologne making your knees weak as it enveloped you. “Thank you for letting me take you out kitten.” Your face went hot at the pet name.

“Too much?” You shook your head, thoroughly flustered. “I like it.” “Good. Goodnight kitten.” You panicked as he lowered his face to your eyes level. Oh god, was he going to kiss you? Your body unconsciously jerked back, your door handle digging painfully into your side. Your hands flew up and pressed against his chest, trying to push Clark away. “No.” You whimpered.

He pulled back and you sighed in relief, he obviously got the message. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?” You didn’t bother answering, just turned your head away, fully prepared for him to tell you off and insist you had to give him something in return for paying for your meal. “Oh kitten. I’m sorry. I was just going to kiss your cheek. We’ll go at your pace, no kissing until you’re ready.” A large weight was lifted from your chest.

Clark was good, he would listen to you. He was a good man. You could trust him.

With a quick peck to your still heated cheek, he sent you inside, remaining just long enough for you to lock up. Pulling off your jacket, you went to hang it up, but paused. The woodsy cologne Clark had been wearing had rubbed off onto the course fabric. Taking a deep inhale, you savoured the comforting scent. Maybe next time, you shouldn’t bring a jacket and he’d give you his.

You kicked off your shoes and practically floated into your living room, sinking into your overstuffed couch. “God he’s so dreamy.” You fanned your hot cheeks, completely overwhelmed by the day.

When you closed your eyes, all you could see was his smiling face and the way he bent down so his face was level with yours. How his surprisingly plump lips had opened slightly, how his breathing became heavier. Maybe, just maybe, you should’ve kissed him. You couldn’t imagine how wonderful it would have been.

Knock knock

“Did you forget something?” You giggled, pulling the door back open, fully expecting the muscular body of your date to be standing there, looking sheepish, maybe looking for an excuse to see you one more time. But instead, a frazzled-looking red haired woman who immediately pushed into your apartment as soon as you opened the door. “Ms Lane?”

The renowned reporter, and the ex-fiancée of the man you just went on a date with, was now in your flat, shutting all the windows in the studio apartment and making sure that the curtains and shutters were drawn. “Are you ok? Do you need me to call someone for you?” You slipped your phone out of your jacket pocket, tucking it into your palm and held it behind your back.

You didn’t know much about her, only that she and Clark were engaged for a while and then she just skipped town a couple weeks before you joined the Daily Planet. No one had heard from her until she unexpectedly turned up at the office this morning, collecting her final pay-check and having a shouting match with Perry about seeing Clark for five minutes, which he stoutly denied.

“You have to listen to me.” You tried to scramble away as she came closer but her hands shot out and held you in place, her fingers digging into your shoulders, her unkempt nails digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Just fucking listen!” You nodded but your thumb was now frantically pushing on the power button to your phone, hoping that even with the spotty cell-reception in your home, you could utilise the safety feature and get through to the police. “I-I’m listening.” She seemed to calm down for a moment, then the siren-like alarm went off on your phone, signalling that you were trying to call 9-1-1.

In a split second, her grip lessened and you ripped away from her, turning and sprinting to the door. She launched at you. Your body collided painfully with the hardwood floor, the breath being knocked from your lungs but you kept trying to get away. “Get off me!” Your nails clawed at the floor. Her hand wrapped around the back of your head and slammed your face into the ground, effectively stunning you.

“Stop fighting!” Lois straddled your back and pinned your arms down, pulling the phone from your grasp, cancelling the call. “I’m just trying to help you!” Your eyes were rolling in your head, a throbbing pain building in the base of your skull as blood poured from your nose and a high pitched whine ringing in your ears as you were forced completely flat on the wooden slats. “Stay away from him. He’s not good! Stay away!” A coldness was spreading through your body as she kept you down, having shifted so her knee was digging into your spine.

“S-stop.” You wheezed but couldn’t get any air into your lungs. “I’m protecting you. He’s crazy. I’m just protecting you.” Just as the dark spots in your vision were starting to get bigger as you struggled for air, Lois’s weight was gone from your back, the dulled sound of shattering glass lost in the background of your thoughts. The ground below you shook and there was muffled yelling, the ringing in your ears getting more intense. You rolled over and attempted to pull yourself up, then a wave of nausea suddenly hit you. You doubled over, your vision swimming.

A cold breeze blew over you and dull thuds resonated through your throbbing head. A pair of hands wrapped around your biceps and tried to pull you forward. “Stop please!” You screamed, legs kicking out, landing a solid hit to the figure in front of you. They didn’t even grunt as they pulled you closer, forcing your body into the plastic-like material that covered their chest.

Your nails dug into the chest of your attacker in an attempt to fight them off, but their grip only got tighter, sending a fresh wave of panic through you. “She’s in shock, I’ll have to administer a sedative.” The raspy voice broke through the fog in your mind as huge arms forced you closer, wrapping around your back, pinning you.

“Don’t you dare!” Another voice called out. You cried as your head was yanked to the side and the tell-tale pinch of a needle was pressed into your neck. A warm sensation flooded your body, immediately placating you, the tingling sensation relaxing your limbs so you slumped forward. The arms holding you didn’t feel like they were caging you in, now it was your only anchor as your eyelids became heavy, darkness quickly overtaking you.

“No!”

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