#kidnapping ///

[tgirlrobot]

Sitting in a coffee shop, enjoying your nice cup of brew with your laptop open, typing up some report for someone, you've forgotten who, until a girl sits opposite you on the table, her dark dress flowing magnificently as she takes a seat. Crossing her legs and smiling at you while reaching over to close your laptop so you'll look at her.

"Hi, my name's Beth, and yours is...?" The confidence she exudes seems to be so effortless yet carefully crafted. You study her clean, shining face for an emotion, but all you get is suave calmness, smiling over at you.

You stutter out your name to her, and she lets out a small laugh. "You don't have to be so tightly wound, you know. Let's have a break, shall we?" You notice she's not holding a drink or anything, which confuses you for a second before she snaps her fingers. "Eyes up here, please~" she asks. However, it feels more like an order with how punctuating her words were.

You stare up at her. Were her eyes always so... purple? "Contact lenses. They're pretty, aren't they?" You nod. You hadn't seen something so nice in a very long time. It was like they sparkled in the light of the shop, keeping your eyes staring. The importance of her lack of coffee or your laptop being pushed aside takes a backseat in your head as she speaks to you. "You know, you really need to focus on what's important,"

she smirks as you look at her sparkling eyes. They're so... animated with her speech. "Like me. A pretty girl sits across from you, and you don't even look up until she's made herself known? You should pay me back for all that lost attention." You nod, your head feeling heavier than usual. "And you know. It's only polite to focus on someone sitting with you~" her eyes get a little smaller for a second with her grin. "Isn't that right?"

"It's... polite to focus..." You say, sounding almost far away from the table, your head in another world as you keep staring at those wonderfully enchanting eyes. "It's... right." The words feel worlds apart. Your lips slur, like you've just had one too many drinks.

"Come on, let's go. You're not staying here anymore." She states, standing up in one smooth motion. "You're coming back home with me."

The words soak in and while your waking mind is still processing them, you're out of your chair and walking towards her car.

That was the last time you were a free person. Before Mistress had her complete grasp on you~

using hypnosis for kidnapping 👍

[a-b-riddle]

Hear me out, but obsessed Simon Riley x reader.

When you’re accused of being a traitor, Simon doesn’t hesitate in getting to work.

Even though you handed over all of your passwords, given them access to anything and everything they him immediately, it did nothing to help. You were going to be crucified.

Price and Laswell had already made the call. A call Simon couldn’t stand by and let happen.

It’s not that Simon believed you when you tried to prove you weren’t the leak.

He simply didn’t care if you were.

He didn't care if you had betrayed them. He didn't care if your innocent nature had truly been an act all along.

It was instinct to get you out of there. Not even for your own safety, but to insure Simon that no one could take you from him. If you remained a free agent, it was only a matter of time before they brought you in. After that, it was out of his hands. You were theres to hurt, to kill and he could do nothing to stop it. So what better way to insure that they can't take you other than taking you for himself?

He simply can’t have someone hurting his bird. So he sets the plan in motion.

Price intends on waiting for the order before executing the extraction plan. They wanted answers. How much did you tell Makarov? What did he know?

Simon was a step ahead. It was easy enough hiding in your garage, waiting for you to come home. The darkness of the night had aided him. You were blindly walking to the door connecting to your kitchen before you felt it. The gloved hand around your mouth and the sharp pinch in your neck.

When you wake up chained to a bed in a dark room, you knew you were as good as dead. They had taken you. This was it and you couldn't plead your case anymore than you already had. All your efforts in trying to prove your innocence were futile.

When Simon stepped in, still in his tactical gear your heart sank. He still had on his mask. Fully equipped. The knives on his side gleaming menacingly as the one light in your cell shined down on him. You swore that you would never betray him, the 141 or Laswell.

“Simon,” you begged already scurrying farther back toward the headboard, trying to create more distance. “I didn’t do it. I swear.” He didn’t stop his slow steps. Even as you began to cry. Even as you curled your body into a tight ball.

You sobbed as you pleaded for mercy, begging for your life. Your shaking violently as you felt him get on the bed. The frame creaking under his weight. You closed your eyes, turning your head away as you readied your self for the final blow to come. Wordlessly began unlocking the metal cuffs.

"Shhh," he soothed. "None of that now." He took your wrists in his hand before softly running his thumbs where the metal cuffs had left an imprint. “Couldn’t have you running off.” He explained, his tone... gentle. Speaking to you as if you were child. "That sedative can give you a pretty rough wake up call. Didn't need you hurtin' yourself. Needed to have a chat first.” He went on to explain you were in his home. Where he wouldn’t disclose. Only that you were safe.

You were safe.

You weren't going to be tortured.

You weren't going to be killed for something you didn't do. Your eyes filled with tears as you realized he was on your side. “You believe me.” You said, the tears resuming for a completely didn't reason. Relief flooded you and you had to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him.

“No,” his correction made your heart drop into your stomach.

"But..." You press your back hard against the wooden headboard. There's no where else to go. Nowhere else to run. "You said I was safe." He sighed. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he put his hand gently where your neck and jaw me.

"You are safe." But, if he didn’t believe you... why were you here? “I don’t care if you did it. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He reassured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. Then he spoke so softly, you could have sworn he was talking more to himself than he was you. “Not going to let anything hurt you.”

It took you a moment to process it.

Simon had taken you... You were in his home and no one knew you were here. You didn't even know where exactly you were.

And Simon was touching you.

He was touching you. After years of working together, Simon was caressing your cheek. Showing such softness that it actually scared you. He took note of how he could feel your heart rate even through his glove.

"Why?"

“I’m protecting you.” He said, growing irritated that you weren't getting it. “Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?" He asked rhetorically, waiting rather patiently for you to be thanking him for saving you.

"Do..." Your head began to spin, trying to pull your mind away from all the possibilities on what could have happened. "Do I have to stay here?" You asked.

Simon was a patient man, but you beginning to test that patience. He let out a huff before pulling his hand away and placing it on your bare knee.

"Just until it all gets sorted." He lied, giving you a squeeze that he could only hope was reassuring. Even after they found the leak, you wouldn't be leaving him.

"Oh." You swallowed, nodding in understanding. "Okay." You let out a staggered breath trying to calm down. You were going to have to stay in this confined space, already feeling the claustrophobia creeping in as you felt the dark cement walls move in closer and closer. "Is there a bathroom I can use in here?" You asked, praying he wouldn't leave you with a bucket and a roll of toilet paper.

Simon laughed. He actually barked out a laugh, making you jump. "I meant you'll have to stay here with me." He clarified. "Not in the basement."

"Oh," the tenseness in your body seemed to ease up. "Good. It just feels..." you didn't finish. Too afraid to insult the man who quite literally held your life in his hands.

"No worries." he assured, finally taking his hand off of you to stand up. He held his palm out waiting for you to take his hand.

Without thinking twice, you did. Letting him help you stand even though your legs felt like they would give out at any minute. At the slight wobble of your knees, Simon took the liberty of scooping you up. A gasp escaping you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Afraid that even though you had seen the man basically serve as a human battering-ram, you were afraid he would somehow drop you.

Simon's fingers ached to feel the softness of your thighs. He wanted to badly to come downstairs without his gear on. Bare himself to you. Reveal the face of the man behind the mask. Scars and all. He was worried that would have made it worse. Waking up in a basement, handcuffed to a bed with an unknown man aching to touch you.

He would show you his face soon enough. You would grow to love it. Each scar and imperfection on his face. His crooked nose and the touch of his calloused hands.

He planned to have you begging for it. To pepper kisses along his cheeks. Beg for his touch on your skin. Begging him to bury his fingers, his cock inside you. You would ache for him just as he had ached for you all this time.

You would fall as deeply as he had.

You would come to love your life with Simon.

No matter how long it took you to accept it.

[mothtral]

sunday would find the softest bindings to chain you to him. leather broken in by sunday himself wearing them to take on the aches and pains before he shackled them to you. if he ever sees bruises and blood forming from your desperate attempts to yank them off, he’d cry and sob and beg you to stop. drugging you to compliance so he could bandage you up, pressing his lips to your wounds to whisper his apologies. it truly hurts him, to see you so sad, so scared. before he clipped your wings and bound you to him, another flightless bird, sunday would drink in your laughter and glee. he never meant to shatter your spirit, but there was no other way to keep you with him.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was getting kidnapped. Only thing I remember seeing was a billboard that just said: "Breastfeeding 👍".

[envy-of-the-apple]

How about apocalypse!au with yan gojo and a foreigner reader who is going on a vacation/business trip when the outbreak happen?

kinda sick of apocalypse aus soooo yakuza!au instead so basically i changed this entire request im rlly sorry

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Stop Crying

(Warnings: Yandere, kidnapping, dark content, noncon touching, human trafficking)

You promised yourself you'd stay safe during your trip to Japan.

You took all the precautions. You traveled with friends you trusted. You kept your phone on. You didn't accept any drinks from anyone you didn't know. You checked in with your folks back home every night.

And yet, nothing stopped it.

It was clearly a basement. No windows. Dark, with the exception of the flickering light on the ceiling. The thin cot and scrap of a blanket did nothing to protect you from the cold.

Your phone was gone. So was your bag. Except for the clothes on your back, they took everything. You can still remember the fear you felt when those men grabbed you, hauling you into the back of a truck. No matter how hard you screamed and kicked and hollered, they didn't let go. You remembered you bit one of them. He just swore in Japanese before backhanding you. It throbbed for hours before you eventually just passed out.

And now you were here. In a basement.

You were probably going to die. You heard the underground was rampant in Japan. They were going to cut you up, sell off your organs for thousands. If they were merciful, maybe the most your body would face would just be getting thrown overseas. If you were lucky, your rotting corpse would be found. If you were one of God's favorites, you'd be recognizable enough to notify your family. At least then, they'd have something to grieve over. The pieces that was left.

The door creaks. You jump, curled in the musty corner. You hear voices. Two. Maybe three. All male, speaking in fast Japanese. They all descend the steps, and your heartbeat picks up faster than before.

One was a stout man with a nervous sort of prattle. From his tone, you could tell he was trying to appease the other two. The other two were tall, heads nearly brushing the ceiling. One was wearing traditional clothing. Long black hair, graceful movements.

The other wore circular sunglasses. He was too young to have natural white hair. He must dye it. While the other two linger behind, he's the one who strides towards you.

You panic, pressing yourself into the wall, hoping to just disappear, melt into the background. Your fear doesn't deter him. He grabs your chin turning your face one way, and then the other. His hold tightens, even when you try to escape. He seems to be fixated on one side of your face. The slap must have left a bruise.

That seems to anger him. He snaps something over to the other two. The man in traditional garments doesn't look very impressed, while the other hurriedly titters. Maybe they were planning on selling you, that's why seeing you blemish-free would be such a deterrent to their plans.

Eventually, the man directs his attention back to you. You think he'd speaking to you. You aren't sure. You don't know where you are. You don't know who these people are. You don't know what they want to do to you.

You're scared. You're so so scared.

When you start to cry, the man gets even more aggravated. He lets you go with a scoff, before walking back to his group. They squabble a bit more, before the shorter of the three reluctantly makes his way over to you.

"The Six Eyes wants to know your name," he says, accent thick.

You stare at him. Helpless and confused.

"The Six Eyes...?" You repeat and then your eyes flick over to the white-haired man. Standing tall and still, like a beautiful statue.

You don't know what's in it to lie. They have your wallet, your ID, your passport probably. You mumble out your name in defeat. The Six Eyes hums in approval.

"I have money." You blurt out. "A lot of it. If-if you let me go. I'll give you whatever you want. My-my family will pay any price."

He translates. When he's done, the other two laugh. It's loud and scratches the inside your chest. You duck away, feeling the tears again.

"The Six Eyes said he's paid too much for you to entertain that possibility." The translator says. Your heart drops.

"Paid for me.." You repeat. No no no no. "What does that even mean?"

The man stares at you with sympathy. You don't want it, you want to throw it back on his face, but you can barely move from your spot.

"He will take good care of you." he tries to console. "I heard the Six Eyes treats his things very well."

You don't want to hear it. You fall into hysterics. You want to go home. You want to go back to your country. You want to go home.

A long hand grabs your chin, instantly quieting you. Unlike his firm grip earlier, this one is nearly painful. You're certain he'd crush your bones if he wanted to. You quiet anyway. That seems to satisfy him now. He mutters something to the translator.

"The Six Eyes is telling you not to scream anymore. He finds it aggravating." The translator says.

The Six Eyes turns to the translator knowingly. The man shuffles with his feet, before reluctantly clearing his throat.

"You...belong to the Six Eyes now."

The Six Eyes grins, filled with white glistening teeth.

"Don't disappoint him. "

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[whumpshaped]

forever thinking about recapture

whumpee getting grabbed on their way home and dragged into a car thats hauntingly familiar

whumpee getting chloroformed again while a familiar voice is telling them to relax

or alternatively "did you really think i'd let you run?"

whumpee realising their home has been broken into and finding a threatening message somewhere. even just a found you scribbled on the wall

whumpee attacked while they're fumbling with the key to get inside, then promptly shoved inside the apartment and being tied up in their own bedroom

whumpee approached in a public setting, frozen in fear and unable to alert anyone because they know whumper has the ability to cause a bloodbath and they don't want to get innocent civilians involved

whumpee approached in a public setting and whumper showing them a photo of a tied up caretaker in a room that has served as whumpee's prison for months. "how about a trade?"

whumpee waking up in a familiar cell, having panic attack after panic attack, sobbing and screaming their throat raw because this can't be happening again

whumpee going docile and quiet as soon as they realise what's happening, their conditioning kicking in to protect them

"i'm so glad you still remember me"

"you haven't forgotten your manners, have you?"

"i heard you went to therapy, hm? i hope they haven't stuffed your head full of too many lies"

whumper bringing out their most common torture instrument. "for old times' sake"

caretaker realising that whumpee didn't send them their daily text, the one they agreed on specifically so they'd know whumpee was okay

whumpee not picking up the phone for the third time

whumper picking up whumpee's phone. "oh, thank goodness whumpee, i thought-" "i'm awfully sorry, they're a bit preoccupied at the moment." caretaker can hear whumpee's muffled cries and screams in the background

caretaker arriving home and finding the apartment ransacked and empty

caretaker finding a letter from whumper. "thanks for watching them while i was dealing with the police <3"

caretaker finding a stack of photos of whumpee being subdued in their own apartment

[boneyhag]

[haikaveh🌱🏛] love a little kidnap and rescue :3c

[ohdeerfully]

Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iiiTW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing. 

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.” 

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat. 

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.” 

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not. 

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible. 

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows. 

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough. 

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day. 

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence. 

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

[whumpy-wyrms]

some random whumpy doodles i forgor i made :P teehee

[a-b-riddle]

Runaway Love (kidnapper Price x captive reader)

cw: established kidnapping, violence, intimidation, unplanned pregnancy, miscommunicated threat of forced abortion, eventual Stockholm syndrome, housewife kink. Reader just accepts her situation at this point. Dub-con, non-con.

You couldn't think of anything except the pain that radiated with each step toward your room. You were lucky your work and home were the same place. It was incomprehensible, downright unbelievable how some of the other maids worked their shift and then either walked home or walked to the bus stop.

Granted, most of them weren't pregnant and had shoes that actually fit, but you didn't like to complain. You were lucky to have the job, even if it was back breaking. You had a roof over your head and although the pay was minimal, you were able to buy essentials and save up and with a baby on the way every penny saved counted.

Most importantly, you were free. You were safe and so was the baby. It had been the only reason that after almost a year, you had finally been brave enough to escape. Knowing that it would be hard to rebuild a life from scratch. Knowing that the consequences meant a punishment so severe you could only hope for death.

You had tracked your period religiously. Even with the stress of being held captive by a psycho military Captain, your cycles were fairly normal. So when you were five days off, you knew. In a moment in which you wanted nothing more than to be happy to finally be starting the family you dreamed about having as a little girl, fear enveloped you.

John had never mentioned kids. Only a wife. Someone to be at home waiting for him. Keeping the house in order and his bed warm while he was away.

All I need is you and the boys, Birdie. What more could a man want?

You considered telling him. Hoping that he would be as happy as you wanted to be. Yet anytime you came close to telling him over the next two weeks, horrible thoughts raced through your mind. What if he was angry? What if he blamed you even though he practically took you whenever he pleased? How would he terminate the pregnancy or would he be content in letting you give birth without any medical intervention and simply get rid of the baby after?

Would he just get rid of you altogether?

It was like the universe was telling you to run when shortly after you decided that telling him wasn't the answer, that he told you he was going on a mission. Won't be back for a couple of weeks. Sent the boys to pick up anything you'll need. I know you'll be good for me.

You had been good. For that last six months, you had behaved. Didn't pull away from his touch or put up a fuss. You lived in the epitome of domestic bliss, so John had no reason to send you down to the basement. Not when you had so many opportunities to try to escape and you didn't.

Granted, he had threatened to break your legs during your first and last stunt. You had been in the basement for three weeks. Living in near darkness as he brought all of your meals. You had been upstairs for about twenty minutes and barely made it to the door before he tackled you. Pinning you to the ground, breath hot against the back of your neck as he hissed in your ear. Ungrateful little brat.

Your apologies fell on deaf ears as he hauled you back down where you would stay for six weeks.

For months you built the relationship on a lie. A lie John deluded himself into believing. Anytime he told you he loved you, you repeated the words back. Wanting to scrub your body raw anytime he touched you and hating yourself anytime he made you come.

But it had been worth it. You were four months along, and given your ill-fitted clothes, not really showing, but knowing that in another five months you would be holding the baby you always wanted. A baby that you had went through hell for. Seeing his or her face for the first time, being their mom would be worth it.

You kept all of the lights off. It was a request of the motel owners to reduce their bills. So even if it was early December and you knew you would be walking back to a freezing room, they didn't give a shit. In truth, they were doing you a favor only charging you $400 in rent with unlimited access to their laundry services. You suppose having the pity of others did have its perks.

You hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights before pulling your shoes off your feet and plopping down on the bed. The grit and grim still felt thick on your skin, but you couldn't find the energy to care. You would shower and get on a fresh set of clothes you had gotten from the shelter when you first made it into the city, but for now you needed a moment. Just a few minutes to decompress.

A few minutes turned into five and then ten. Before you knew it, you had been laying in the bed floating in and out of consciousness for almost twenty minutes. You knew you needed to get up. Wash away the grime of the day that had settled on your skin. Your clothes smelling faintly of bleach.

Fuck you were tired.

You were always tired.

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, barely keeping your eyes opened. Not confident enough you would actually be able to take a shower without wanting to lay down in the tub and let all the strain of the day go down the train.

It's funny how the human body can make us teeter on the edge of sleep. We imagine things that may or not be there. But when you heard it, when you heard that voice coming from the corner of you room, you knew you weren't imagining anything.

"Wonderin' when you'd wake up."

[mothtral]

the family notices immediately that their aeon has their benevolent eye on you. how could they not? their aeon’s gaze is a weight they’ve known like the back of their hand since childhood, and it’s always noticeable when xipe… lingers on someone. especially an outsider.

one by one, members of the family approach you. asking if you need any help, if you’re enjoying your stay, do you need help getting back to your room. oh, don’t worry about it, it's no trouble, here, let us carry your bags.

sunday personally shows you around the forbidden zones, a gloved finger held to his lips to quiet your excited giggles. at first, he wondered just what drew xipe to you, but after spending night after night at your side… the picture becomes clear, with you are the main subject.

the family must be doing something right, because sunday shares with them the dream he had. xipe visited him and shared how pleased they were that the family has treated you so kindly. but they want all of them to do more. do anything that would tie you to penacony permanently.

xipe is saddened that they can’t claim you, another aeon having laid their filthy claws on you prior to your visit to penacony. no matter. things like this can break. it just takes a little time. thankfully, the dreamscape is a wonderful place where reality and time are things of the past.

(second part in another post.)

[3amfanfiction]

Darling and John Meet

Synopsis: Let's go back to the beginning and find out how Darling and John met. Did she go with her kidnapper willingly or was she snatched off the side of the road? 18+ smut, MDNI AN: This can be read as a standalone but technically takes place before this story. cw: Kidnapping, dubcon/noncon, spanking, threat of pain, hints of stockholm in the beginning section. Banner by @/cafekitsune

First || Previous

You weren't sure how long you'd been here. Time passed weirdly.

His name was John.

You were only allowed to call him Sir though, never John. Remembering how you were taught that lesson in the beginning made you swallow subconsciously, phantom aches plaguing your body even after all this time.

But at least it was something—that you knew he was a real person, with a real name, outside of this little house he kept you in. Something that reminded you there was a world outside even if you never got to see it again.

He was strict in the beginning when you were first brought to your new home. You didn't know the rules and he lost his patience frequently. It had been a while since you needed true correction from him, but it was always a looming threat.

He kept you healthy while you were here—made sure you ate and always snuck you a little treat with dinner if you had been good. He made sure you knew you were his Darling girl and how much he loved you. How perfect you were for him.

It was such a load of shit considering he wouldn't let you leave.

///

You thought your day couldn’t get any worse when you heard the thump thump thump of a flat tire as you were driving down the road. It was early evening and you hadn’t seen another vehicle for a while.

The sun was already starting to set despite the early hour, winter tightening its grip slowly if the chill in the air had anything to say about it. You shivered as you climbed out of the car, wrapping your too-thin jacket tighter as you crossed your arms trying to retain some heat. Walking towards the back you saw the thing you were dreading. A completely flat tire, not even enough air to drive on to get you to the next service station.

Of all the luck.

There was nothing for it, you guessed. It certainly wasn’t going to change itself.

Moving around to the trunk you pulled out the tire changing kit. You hadn’t ever had to change one before but surely it couldn’t be too difficult. You unscrew, take the tire off, put the new tire on, re-screw. Common sense would get you through this, you thought, trying to burgeon your spirits with forced cheer. It’s not going to be so bad, you’ll see.

With a forced pep in your step you lay the kit beside the tire, looking at what you had to work with. You were just reaching for the jack when you spied headlights coming down the road. Not wanting to accidentally be sideswiped, you stood up and moved to the back, stepping a few feet away from the road in order to give the other driver plenty of space.

You were surprised when the headlights slow, pulling in to park right behind you. You raised a hand to shield your eyes, squinting through the glare as you tried to see who was climbing out of the dark blue pickup.

“Need a hand?”

Oh, he was a handsome one.

A unique beard covered his face, emphasizing the allure of the man standing feet from you. A flannel shirt covered his bulky body with the sleeves folded up his forearms, showcasing a thick dusting of dark hair all the way down, under his watch to his square knuckles. His pants hugged his thighs in a way that had you swallowing before you pulled your eyes back up to his, warming at the mirth showing in his blue gaze.

���I don’t suppose you know how to change a tire?” you asked with an apologetic smile. It seemed your day was turning around.

///

Sitting in his truck, you were thankful for the warm air blowing strongly from the vents. When John started the truck one of the first things he did was point all the vents firmly towards your side of the cab and turn the fan on high.

You were appreciative that he was so thoughtful, especially after the mess with your tire.

John hissed in pain, yanking his hand back quickly from where it had smacked into the tire, the wrench snapping off the bolt and clattering to the ground. He pulled his hand back to look and you saw the blood welling from his scraped knuckles.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don’t think this tire is coming off with what we have here. You’re going to have to get into town and have someone come out to change it.” He gave a little frown in disappointment at not being able to help you out.

When you tried to thank him and let him go on his way he promptly shut down that conversation and convinced you to let him take you into town. “It wouldn’t be right to let such a pretty woman sit out on the side of the road at night,” he’d said.

He was startling persuasive because it was only a short while later that saw you sat in his truck, happily bundled in his coat and on your way down the road.

///

You first realized there was a problem when he missed the turn-off for the town.

“That sign said we were supposed to take a right back there,” you said, turning to look back at the road you’d just passed, thinking John had missed it.

“We can’t go in the front way. The storms that came through last week washed out the road and it’s still impassible. We’ll need to go past it and access it from the other direction.”

“I hadn’t realized it had stormed so badly over here,” surprised, you turned to look at him.

You didn’t notice his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, the creaking leather disguised under the rumble of the road, “Do you think I’m lying to you, Darling?” quiet, with a hint of censure to be careful in how you responded.

“No! That’s not it at all, I promise,” you reassured, startled by his change in demeanor. John had been nothing but unfailingly polite so far so this was quite the shock. You supposed everyone had their triggers and being called a liar was certainly a common one. It wasn’t surprising John got prickly when you implied he was lying, especially after he went out of his way to help you when he didn’t need to. “I was only thinking of how bad it must have been, how worried everyone was. I hope no one was hurt,” you appease. Thankfully he accepted your pseudo-apology.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest little peach, worrying about them,” he allowed, seemingly willing to move past your faux pas. “I don’t think anyone was seriously hurt Darling, just a bit of structural damage along with the road. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

And that was all it took.

By the time you realized he wasn’t taking a back way into town it was too late. You were far from town and your car, alone with a man who dwarfed you and your only way out would include throwing yourself from a fast-moving vehicle.

As you started to cry, struggling to wrap your mind around what was happening, he reached over and placed a warm palm high on your thigh. You couldn’t help your flinch away from him, pressing against the door as far as you could get.

“Well,” he sighed, as if disappointed in how you’d reacted and pulled his hand back to his own side, “we’ll work on that.”

What was going to happen to you?

///

You thought about fighting when the truck finally stopped. John climbed out and walked around to your side, opening your door just to block the exit with his body, one forearm propped up against the hood while he loomed over where you were sitting. You wondered if he was purposefully emphasizing his size to dissuade you from causing trouble.

It was working if he was.

You were still quietly crying when you looked up at him, frowning when he simply cooed at you before reaching in with one meaty paw to wipe away the tears, “Now now, there’s no reason for you to be upset Darling, nothing’s happened yet, has it?”

That didn’t bode well for you and did nothing but inspire more tears. With a soft hum he reached in to help you out, ignoring your trembling as he held your hand in his.

“Please don’t do this,” you tried again, even though you knew it was hopeless. You had tried every way possible to convince him to let you out on the side of the road during your trip with no luck. “Please. I’m not what you want, please let me go.” Your chin wobbled as you tried to keep from breaking into gasping sobs.

“Oh Darling, you’re perfect. I don’t ever want to hear that from your mouth again. Now let’s go. It’s time to get inside, I don’t want you out in the cold any longer.”

With his final say on the matter you shakily climb out of the truck, reluctant but complacent, dropping your head to stare at the ground through watery vision.

You had never been much of a fighter. You tried. You tried to be tough and to fight against the things that upset you but at the end of the day you would always be the first to fold, unable to dig your heels in the way other people seemed to do with ease. It didn’t look like your fawn response was going to get you out of your mess this time.

He held your hand tightly as he pulled you up the steps towards the house, ignoring your sniffling. You shuffled along beside him in terror-filled silence. Stepping onto the porch he turned to look at you, hand letting go of yours to grip you firmly by the back of the neck. A wave of fear skittered down your spine like an electric shock, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin as you shuddered involuntarily.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you Darling?” he asked with his chin tilted down, allowing a steady gaze to bore into your soul. “As long as you’re good, you’ll have a good life. Listen and obey and I’ll take care of you, you’ll never want for anything ever again. But if you fight me, you will learn very quickly who is in charge.”

Ominous.

You couldn’t do anything other than give a shaky nod which he didn’t seem to appreciate.

“When I speak to you I expect an answer.”

As he looked into your being with cold eyes you wet your lips before answering, “Yes,” but a tight squeeze of the back of your neck let you know what he wanted. An honorific. You knew he wanted one, you just . . . couldn’t do it. If this was your only rebellion then at least it was a rebellion. Something that said ‘I dissent. I do not want this,�� as minor of a stance it was. But it was something of your own.

“Yes, John.”

Pain.

It flooded your mind, muffling your ears and blackening your vision. Your brain rattled around in your skull, every bounce causing a new shockwave of hurt, of distress. You couldn’t think, you could only gasp.

You raised a hand to your cheek where you had been backhanded, in shock. Your jaw was dropped and you looked at John with wide eyes, unable to understand what had just happened. He was looking at you with a disappointed expression.

“I don’t like hurting you for little things like this, Darling,” he chided, “but you force my hand when you decide to be difficult.” Sighing as if you were a dog that had gotten into something he wasn’t supposed to, he continued, “Let’s try this again, shall we? Are you going to be good for me? Or do you need me to discipline you first before you behave?”

“I’ll be good,” you reassured quickly, not wanting another strike. Looking into his eyes you realized he was not going to let you get away without a title. “—sir. I’ll be good, sir.”

He beamed. “There’s my sweet girl. I knew you were perfect. So smart and so sweet for me.” Pulling you in, he ignored your squirming to press a kiss against the cheek he had just struck, his bristles felt shocking against the newly sensitive skin.

Still smiling, he led you into the house, tucking a guiding hand low on your back underneath his jacket you still wore, pinky trailing a touch too low to be fully chaste.

The house wasn’t what you were expecting. You thought it would be dark, winding hallways connected to closed-door rooms, curtains blocking out any view of outside, trash and debris cluttering up the floors and counters.

Instead it looked distressingly normal.

As you walked in, the space opened up. A comfortable living room sat to one side while an open kitchen sat to the other. You could see a handful of doors leading off the two rooms with a hallway tucked into the back wall. Large windows would let in the light come morning and while it was slightly bare, the house looked comfortably lived in.

Not at all what you thought a kidnapper’s house would look like.

John took his coat from you to hang up, “I’ll give you the tour tomorrow but I’m exhausted after today. Let’s go to bed, hm?”

You froze, every cell in your body locking into place as your heart took up residence in the pit of your stomach. Bed. You knew how this was about to go and for once your body kicked itself out of fawn and straight into flight. The problem was you hadn’t taken two steps before a fist was in your hair, dragging you backwards until your back collided with John’s chest. He shifted his grip around to the front of your throat to control you, the other slipping around your waist, keeping you pinned against him.

You weren’t a small girl by any means. You ate well and didn’t listen to the old biddies who insisted fat led to death. You were solid. That didn’t seem to concern John as he physically picked you up, ignored your flailing feet and moved you towards the living room.

You reached up and tried to pry his fingers off your throat but were unsuccessful. He wasn’t squeezing, which was shocking and relieving in turn, more just holding. You still wanted his hand gone from such a fragile area.

With wide steps he cleared the distance to the living room easily, taking a seat on the couch and holding you in his lap, chest to back. The tears which you thought were gone were back with a vengeance, running down your face in rivulets as you sobbed in his hold.

You felt him give a deep sigh against your back.

“I didn’t want to have to do this so soon, but I can’t have you thinking you can try and run away like that. There’s no one around for miles, Darling. Where would you go?” he asked the last almost to himself as if he couldn’t understand your thought process.

Letting go of your throat, his hand dove to your waist, making fast work of the buttons holding your pants up. Then, in a move too quick for your brain to understand he had you shifted onto your front over his lap, your pants and panties pulled down to your thighs, practically cupping your cheeks.

You yelped and reached your hands back to cover your ass but he gathered them easily to pin behind your back.

The first sharp crack made you scream.

The next handful of smacks didn’t lag, keeping a punishing pace if not quite as merciless as the initial one. You squealed, screamed and kicked to no avail. He simply pinned you more firmly and continued to lay his palm into your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long it was until something broke in your mind and you finally went limp, no longer fighting, just gasping great, heaving sobs with a sharp cry echoing out of your mouth with every connection. As snot, tears, and drool leaked into the couch fabric you missed the, there we go, almost there now, from above you.

You didn’t even jerk when he paused, switching from open handed hits to roughly squeezing your heated skin, dragging rough callouses over it in a facsimile of comfort.

“We’ll go easy this time, Darling, since it’s the first time you’ve misbehaved. I won’t accept you endangering yourself and you would die in the woods or the mountains before ever finding help. You’re not to try and leave again, do you understand me?”

You couldn’t answer through the sobs still wracking your body. He didn’t like this and gave a sharp little pat in the same spot as the first strike. When you yelped, he repeated.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes—yes I understand,” you gasped out, eager for this to be over with. When he froze and you felt his thighs tense underneath you, you corrected yourself quickly, “I understand, Sir.”

His muscles softened as he continued, “Good. Now I said this one would be easy and I’m a man of my word. It’ll be 10 for trying to leave the house and 10 for fighting back instead of accepting your punishment.

Twenty more?!

“Wait!” you sobbed, distraught at the thought of your punishment (your torture?) continuing. “I thought you said easy, you’ve already passed that.”

“Darling girl,” he cooed sweetly, “those were to get you in the right headspace to accept your punishment, they weren’t the punishment itself. It’ll be 20 swats and you’ll be counting them for me.”

You almost vomited on the couch from fear.

Giving you no more time to wind yourself up, he started.

The first whip of his hand was equal to the one back at the beginning, although this time you withheld your scream admirably. When it made contact with your heated, throbbing skin you almost lost your breath, the pain was so sharp. It radiated out, up into your lower back and down into your thighs while sending a ringing thrum echoing through your head. The pain was all you could think about until he tapped two fingers softly on the spot he’d just struck.

With a wet, gasping breath you punched out a One, before he could decide he needed to start over.

He alternated between softer and firm cracks, moving as he saw fit from the crease where your thighs met the swell of your backside to nearly your lower back. You accidentally kicked out on ten when he spread your cheeks, aiming a hit at the soft skin which had been protected so far with where it pressed up against the other cheek. His fingers caught your asshole causing an electric current to shoot down your legs, making them jerk without your approval. He paused for a moment and you prayed he wasn’t going to start over or increase your punishment. He must have decided you weren’t trying to fight back because he continued on, waiting for your Ten, before giving you number eleven.

By the time he finished you were a sweating, sobbing mess sprawled across his lap with no care for anything beyond your burning skin. You must have looked quite the sight because he hummed at you in sympathetic adoration and gathered you back up into his lap, ignoring your yelp as your sensitive, impact-warmed skin made contact with the rough material of his pants. Tucking you into him he began showering you with praise.

“There we go, that’s my sweetheart. You did so well for me, taking your punishment like a big girl. I’m so proud, Darling.” He pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple and hugged you firmly, “It’s all done now, all over. I’m not upset anymore.”

You couldn’t do anything but sit there and breathe, tears slowly drying on your face as you calmed down. You were completely limp where you sat on his lap, your head lolled back onto his shoulder, too weak to even care about what face you were making.

He tilted his chin to look down at you, bristly beard rubbing against your face. With a fond smile he reached for your jaw and tried to tilt your mouth to his.

You couldn’t help the breathless, No, you let out as you turned your chin, pulling it from his grasp.

He paused and looked at you coldly, his blue eyes glacial before he gave a forced chuckle, “All right. If you don’t want to kiss me, I won’t make you. We’ll save that for when you ask prettily for it, hmm?”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, could only look at him as he looked at you, watching the micro-expressions cross his face. He looked so normal. If the past couple of hours hadn’t happened you never would have expected this from him. You wondered if it was his handsomeness that allowed him to hide in plain sight. If an uglier person would have been under suspicion long before now and he would have been sitting in a jail cell as a result. What did that distinction imply of society?

You had caught your breath when you felt his hand making its way between your thighs, the tears starting up anew at what was next.

“My Darling still needs her reward though, doesn’t she?” he murmured warmly into your ear. “Good girls get rewarded and you did wonderfully for me,” as his fingers reached the apex of your thighs, swirling in the slick your body had produced in response to the previous pain.

You keened shamefully when he brought those slick fingers up to your clit, giving a soft circular stroke to the sensitive bud, “Please don’t, I don’t want this.”

“Don’t you? That’s not what she’s telling me.” He moved down again to press two fingers deeply into your cunt. The wet squelch was sordid as his fingers sunk all the way to his thick knuckles with little resistance. You couldn’t help the gasp as his palm made contact with your clit, giving you something to buck against when he curled and pressed inside of you. “Yeah, she’s eager for me,” he laughed almost meanly before giving you a rough stroke, grinding his palm over your sensitive clit at the same time.

“Wait! Wait, I don’t—” your voice broke on an Ah! as he found a sensitive spot right inside. With a smirk he honed in on it, focusing relentlessly as he built you higher and higher, whispering endlessly in your ear.

Fuck, but you’re perfect for me, Darling. Listen to those pretty sounds coming from your lips. I’m so happy I found you. Gonna keep you forever, you and me. Keep you in my home, keep you on my cock, on my fingers, on my tongue. The only thing you’ll have to worry about is when your next orgasm is, nothing else will belong in that pretty little head. You’ll let me do all the thinking for you pet, won’t you? Yes, look at that dumb expression, you like turning that brain off, don’t you? It’s okay, I’ll take care of you, I’m here now. You don’t ever have to be alone again.

With a final caress he sent you careening over the edge, tumbling end over end as the pleasure crested and carried you on a wave of endorphins. Heat traveled up the backs of your thighs through the tightened muscles of your abdomen before crawling its way up your chest. Your back arched violently, only held in place by the arm strung across your hips.

After far too short a time you came back to your body. The first thing you noticed was John petting your mons, stroking the hair repeatedly in the same direction as if attempting to make it lay flat. When he noticed you were back with him, his hand slowed before stilling.

“There’s my pretty girl. I thought I lost you for a minute.”

When you don’t respond he continues.

“Are you going to kick up a fuss if I tell you it’s bedtime again?”

You wanted to. You desperately wanted to. You just couldn’t. It was like every strong emotion had been rung out of you and you were nothing but an empty shell, waiting to be filled back up.

Even still, you couldn’t tell him you’d go quietly, choosing instead to stay silent, letting him take from that what he would.

With a rumbling hum he stood you up on trembling legs, pulling your pants back up over your hips but leaving them unbuttoned. Wrapping an arm around your waist he pulled you into his side before guiding you to the hallway leading further into the house.

By the time you reached the primary bedroom you were crashing. The trembling was becoming worse and you weren’t able to take in any external stimuli. You couldn’t even tell what his bedroom looked like other than the fact there was a bed against one wall.

Tugging you with him, he brought you to the bed and stripped off your clothes with quick efficiency, ignoring your weak, swatting hands and mumbled pleas until you were naked before him—one arm crossed over your chest while the other attempted to hide your cunt. You stood there trembling, watching him fearfully as he walked over to a set of drawers.

Opening a drawer, he rifled around for a few moments, apparently looking for the perfect shirt. He gave a soft Ah ha! when he found it, moving back towards you. Gently pulling the t-shirt over your head he treated you as if you were a small child, softly guiding each arm through and fixing the hem so it fell correctly around your thighs.

Directing you to the bed, he had you lay on your stomach. You heard the pop of a cap behind you before a cooling sensation began covering your skin, his rough hands working the lotion in.  

You wondered at your current responses. It was as if you could see your emotions but you couldn’t feel them. They had become something to pick apart, to analyze from the safety of the other side of the glass where they couldn’t hurt you. You could see where you were panicking about John touching you so close to your center but you couldn’t feel the actual fear. It was something you were observing but not experiencing.

You were only existing. In this present moment.

You observed as he began to massage the plump tissue after rubbing a gentle layer of lotion into the skin. The pain was shocking for a split moment before you felt the relief, as if stretching out a charley horse. A low monotone hum was pressed into the mattress as you fought against the sound unsuccessfully.

Ignoring his responding chuckle was simply good common sense.

You were a limp, dozing puddle by the time he was finished, uninterested in anything past sleep. Your breath didn’t even hitch as he connected your wrist to the headboard with a rope, turning you on your side to curl up behind you, one arm under your pillow and the other wrapped around your waist, tucked under your borrowed shirt to hold the fat of your stomach.

“Sleep, Darling. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And you did.

///

You knew exactly where you were as soon as you opened your eyes the next morning. You weren’t granted the relief of even a few moments of confusion to bask in before reality cruelly stepped in.

John’s hand had migrated in his sleep and he now cupped your breast, cradling it in his warm palm, rucking your t-shirt up high. His knee was tucked between yours and you could feel his erection pushing into your bare backside where he was firmly pressed against you, only his boxers separating the two of you.

You laid there quietly, not wanting to disturb this subtle peace with whatever horrors the day was about to bring. You could pretend his hand wasn’t even there when he was still. Letting your mind wander, the time passed steadily until the sunlight filled the room and John stirred behind you.

You knew he was awake when he kissed the back of your neck, pressing his lips against your skin and holding for a moment before pulling away, “Good morning, Darling,” he rasped in a sleep-roughened voice.

“Good morning,” you whispered back, frozen where you lay.

He chuckled as he flexed his hand, realizing where it was placed. With a slight shift he moved to softly pinch and roll your nipple, tugging it every so often. You ignored the shameful heat it was building in your core with every pinch.

Pressing more kisses into the back of your neck, he began to murmur, “Perfect, to be waking up with you in my arms. You feel so god damned amazing,” he squeezed you to him firmly, “I’m never going to give this up.”

What did you say to that? What could you say to that? You had a fine line to walk, being stubborn enough to hold onto your identity while yielding enough so you wouldn’t be ground down to your basest parts. You had no doubt he would enjoy working you down to the bone before building you back up in whatever fashion he saw fit.

Thankfully he didn’t seem to need a response this morning as he continued to kiss at your nape, massaging the handful of you he still held.  

You froze when his hand eventually started to travel lower, pausing to knead at the fat of your stomach for a moment before continuing down. He pulled your top leg up, giving him more room to work while ignoring your faint trembling. Once there was adequate space he cupped your cunt, holding it in his large hand. His fingers lowered to trace the damp seam with a soft caress, a gentle stroke which did more to tease than to relieve.

As he continued to brush barely there strokes against your cunt, from your lips to your clit, you were fighting with yourself to stay still and not buck into his hand. It almost ticked with how soft he was touching you and you craved and dreaded a firmer stroke in equal measure.

You didn’t want to give in to him though. It was clear what he was doing, teasing you, taunting you with what you could have if you were only bold enough to take it. If you gave enough ground to take the pleasure he offered while giving up your morals.

You tried. You really did.

At the first soft twitch of your hips he groaned a, There we go Darling, take what you need, into the slope of your neck where he had buried his face. The hot breath and his press of teeth sent a shock through your body, causing your hips to buck slightly harder.

In moments you were riding his hand, finally being touched how you needed. Soft, little panting breaths were escaping you, the occasional strangled sound escaping your throat. It was fine. You were still in control.

He encouraged your rocking with the press of his hips, taking his own pleasure from you as you worked, panting hot wet breaths into your ear, neck and shoulder as he nibbled and sucked on the skin, working to pull blood to the surface.

When you came, you did so with a low groan, your mouth clamped shut in an attempt to deny him the sound of your satisfaction. Your legs jerked out with your orgasm, back arching and chin tilting up, unwittingly giving him more room to attack your neck.

As you came down you found yourself falling limp, letting him work you through the last echoes of your orgasm with skilled fingers. You were still limp when he rolled you over onto your back, hovering over you for such an intense moment you thought he was going to break his word about not kissing you and take one anyway.

His eyes practically glowed where they were focused on your, a blue so bright it was haunting. He studied your face, no artifice in the early morning light. When he pulled back slightly you found yourself releasing a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, cowed by his presence, however unwillingly.

You thought that you were done. You had made it through the horrors and indignities of the morning and you could move on. You were proven wrong when he began to shuffle down your body, pushing your borrowed shirt up above your breasts.

One arm was still raised, attached to the headboard but you used to the other to attempt to shield yourself from him.

He grabbed your wrist and pinned it to your side, giving you a firm look which said you wouldn’t like the consequences if you moved it to hide yourself again.

Leaning down he took your nipple into his mouth, groaning softly at your stifled inhale at the sensation. With skillful glee he focused eagerly on your chest, switching breasts as he saw fit, never leaving a nipple unattended for long.

Your breasts were heavy and aching by the time he was satisfied, nipples raw from the suction and delicate skin peppered with bristle burn where he hadn’t been cautious of his beard. He leaned back slightly to take them in, pleased with his results.

It was when he began moving further down that you panicked.

“No, no John, please don—” you cut off with a screamed yelp as he pinched a portion of flesh firmly between his teeth. For a moment you almost thought he was going to bite it off with how hard he was sinking his teeth into you. There were flecks of blood in his teeth when he eventually pulled back.

“Rule two: you will address me as Sir when you speak to me. Anything else will result in escalating corrections,” he met your eyes with a steady gaze. “Do you understand me?”

You couldn’t do it. You wanted to fight, to dig your heels in, but you just couldn’t, you were too scared, it hurt too badly.

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered, mind racing at what an escalation might look like.

Taking you at face value he continued working his way down, murmuring into your skin, “I’m going to be tasting this cunt,” he lowered himself between your thighs, spread wide by the breadth of his shoulders, “your only job is to lay there and let me eat.”

He dove face-first into your folds, not being shy about his groans of delight at your smell and taste. Pressing his nose to the crease where your thigh met your pelvis, you heard him take a deep inhale of the space which had trapped sweat and smell since your last shower. When he dragged his tongue along the hair covered skin you twitched, surprised at how sensitive the area was to his ministrations.

Biting your tongue to keep from making any noises, you struggled to lay still when he moved to your center, nosing apart your lips to press a firm kiss to your entrance before licking a wide stripe up the slit, collecting all your slick from your first orgasm.

As hard as you tried you couldn’t fight the buck of your hips when he reached your clit and switched from a broad lick to sucking on it with pursed lips. The grunt that slipped out was quickly swallowed back. You couldn’t do much but you could at least deny him this, deny him the sounds of your gratification.

You felt him smile where he was pressed against you before he went to work, eating you out with mind-numbing focus and intensity. It was as if he was pulling every bit of tension from your body and reworking it into a coil which was twisting tighter and tighter with each pass of his tongue. You felt heat start to build in the back of your thighs, toes curling in pleasure as you fought against bringing your free hand down to grip his hair, to hold him where you wanted him.

If he had teased you slightly longer you think you would have anyways.

When you came it was deafening. Your ears only registered the rush of blood, your eyes – the sparks lighting off in your brain. Your throat was still vibrating with your yell when you came back to yourself, panting as you stared at the ceiling in shock.

He pulled off of you with a pop, ignoring your overstimulated flinch as he pressed one more kittenish kiss to your clit before moving back up. You had drenched his beard to the point it was matted down around his mouth and chin, a shiny sheen on his nose.

When he got back up level with your face, he looked you deeply in the eyes as if trying to impart ancient wisdom, “This is your life now, Darling. The sooner you realize who’s in charge, the smoother everything is going to go.”

Reaching up he untied your wrist that was attached to the headboard, “Now come on, it’s time for breakfast and I’m going to watch you finger yourself while I’m getting it ready.”

|||

Story Repository || Main Repository

[envy-of-the-apple]

Heart for a Heart

(Dark!Sung Jin-woo x reader)

3.8k - Word Count

Synopsis: In a world where soulmates share each other's pain, yours is particularly clumsy.

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, gore(not done to reader), kidnapping)

It started out small. A few bruises. A paper cut here and there. A mark you never really noticed before. Things that didn't matter.

You never really minded the bond. It's often relieving that somewhere, out there, your soulmate was okay. Okay enough to get scratches and paper cuts. Alive enough to get hurt. You know, people that weren't so lucky so have those.

And then, you stopped being so lucky.

One day, you suddenly had this searing pain in your leg. It was excruciating, you were screaming so loudly you were sure the entire town could hear you. When you’re finally rushed to the hospital, it’s there where your doctors discover the broken leg. You hadn’t done this, however. 

You’re soulmate had. 

It escalates from there. Broken legs aren’t enough; sometimes, you got shattered ribs, torn ribs. Once you got your stomach ripped open by a long sharp object. That had kept you in the hospital for more than a month. At first, people would just assume you were painfully clumsy. All they had to see was your fingers getting crushed by seemingly nothing to get the picture. 

The only upside to this was whenever you were rushed to the hospital, your soulmate was inadvertently saved as well. Giving them some much needed aide when they clearly were in need of it. 

“Maybe your soulmate is a hunter.” Pondered your friend, sitting next to the hospital bed. 

“I hope not.” You mutter back, looking at your newest injury: Stabbed in the thigh. “They’re pretty shitty at their job, then.” 

“Maybe they’re pretty low.” She thinks out loud. “Rank D. No, maybe even rank E? Or they’re pretty high up, so they get the more dangerous jobs?” She shrugs. 

You huff. Somehow, the thought that your soulmate is out there intentionally putting both themselves and you in danger would make this entire situation even worse. You desperately hope this guy was just a clumsy idiot—the type of person who trips over a rock and shatters a whole bone. An accident would be much more forgivable. 

And if they were a hunter, then you hoped they’d have a big enough accident to put them out of commission permanently. 

You were high on drugs. You didn’t mean that. 

You certainly never wanted this. 

You were asleep when it started. Alone, in your apartment. No one was by you. Your phone was on the cabinet. You were alone when it happened. 

You wake up to the feeling of death. You don’t know how else to explain it, but something was looming over your chest, pinning you down until you were suffocating. 

In your panic, you fumble out of your blankets before trying to get out of bed. The moment your feet touches the floor, you stumble, crashing onto hardwood. On your hands, you look back, trying to see what you tripped on. 

Gone. 

Your leg was gone. 

“What the fuck…?”

You’re hyperventilating. You can’t stop yourself. You can’t control yourself. Your leg was gone. It was severed off. You were bleeding out. There was so much pain. So so much pain.

You needed to get to your phone. It was high up on your cabinet, just sitting there innocently, mockingly. You needed to call someone. 

You crawl on the floor, fists clenched tightly together, dragging yourself across the wood, smearing blood everywhere. It was worth it. It would all be worth it if you could just call help. 

There’s a second, and then you’re losing your breath as something slams into your chest, knocking you down. A sledgehammer? It didn’t matter what it was. You’re coughing up blood, retching out your dinner, when there’s another and another. You’re getting sliced. Punched. Beaten. 

No, not you. 

Your soulmate. 

You needed to get to your phone, but it’s miles above you, sitting right on the ledge. Sometime after that, your arm gets cut off, too. You’re clutching at the cabinet, crying out when there’s another stab, this one right in your chest, right at your heart. 

You see it then—carved stone skin, glowing eyes, a terrifying smile. Looking right at you because it saw you. 

You were going to die, you were going to die because of that thing. And neither you nor your soulmate could save either of you. Not this time. 

But your phone is right there, you could get to it if you just–

Your remaining arm give out; you collapse onto the floor. The last thing you see is your blood seeping from your body before you pass out. 

_

Death is warm, like sunlight dappled across your face. Death is calm, like birds cheerily chirping out your window. Death is peaceful, like the low hum of your fan. 

But you can’t be dead. You’re still breathing. 

Your eyes blink open. There’s not a remnant of pain, not even from your past injuries. You sit yourself back up, examining your hands, your body, your leg. You still had both of your feet. You wiggled your two hands. You were more than content to just write it off as a dream when you see the blood smear from where you dragged yourself from bed. Your clothes were torn, but your skin was magically fine underneath. It was like last night never happened. 

Except it had. You still remember that face. So many teeth. 

You know you lost your leg. You know you lost enough blood to die. And yet, you were still here. Had…had your soulmate done something? Had they saved you? 

It takes hours to clean up the blood. Thankfully, peroxide gets rid of most of it. You can still smell the faint stench of metal, and you hope an open window would be enough to air it out. 

You still don’t know what happened that night, and when you try to search the Internet for it, nothing comes up. Perhaps your soulmate was a hunter and they just happened upon a rare healing item during a dungeon raid, and that was enough to completely reverse any injuries that happened to you and them. It’s the best theory you had at the moment. 

You can’t bring yourself to dwell on that night. You’d go insane if you kept having to remember that face, those glowing eyes, that hellish grin. You move on, pretending it never happened. 

But ever since that day, something changed. 

Your soulmate stopped getting hurt so often. Instead of getting severe injuries every month, you’d get paper cuts, bruises, and burns. At most, you’d get a large cut or two, but even then, after a couple of minutes, even the deepest cuts would disappear, and your skin would be like it never happened in the first place. 

You didn’t mind the change. If anything, you embraced it. You’d take anything. Anything over being stuck in the hospital for months, wailing over injuries that you didn’t even cause. 

But maybe you should’ve read the fine print a bit carefully. You should’ve been more wary of the change. 

It’s a regular day. You’re out grocery shopping, humming as you toss a packet of bell peppers in your cart. Your neck twinges, like a claw mark. Your soulmate must’ve gotten into another scuffle. You’re a bit pissed, but at least they’d figure out a way to deal with it. 

You aren’t expecting the punch to your gut. 

It sends you flying into the aisle behind you. You crash against the milk cartons, produce flying everywhere around you. People are already clamoring over you, worridly asking if you were okay but you couldn’t answer because of how much pain you were in. You were bleeding, and everything felt broken.

You hadn’t felt this much pain in a while. You’d been growing used to the recent change. Lax. 

Clearly, your soulmate had too. 

‘How’

You don’t recognize the voice. There’s ringing in your head. Someone is tugging at your arm. 

‘How how howhowhowhowhowhow h o w.’

The voice claws at your brain, you’re sure you’re bleeding there, too. It’s insistent, shaky, delusional, repeating one sentence over and over again. 

‘The system made me do it’

You’re above someone–a man. He’s staring up at you with a kind of fear you’ve never seen anyone have before–desperate, animalistic. There’s white-blue crystals everywhere. The knife in your hands is bloody. 

These aren’t your hands. Longer. More masculine. 

“You won’t get away with this.” The man underneath you is stuttering. “You’ll never get away with this.” 

You open your mouth. This isn’t your voice, either. 

“What happens in a dungeon stays in a dungeon. Your words, not mine.” 

The dagger reaches down to cut off his head entirely. And then you’re back in the grocery store, screaming. 

There’s more people gathered around you now. Someone hollers for water. A woman is asking if you can stand. You’re still in so much pain that you can hardly breathe but you hardly give a shit about that right now. 

Your soulmate was a murderer. 

You can still feel the ghost metal of that dagger–how easy it was to slice the skin, like it was nothing but paper. And you still remembered your soulmate’s emotions, buried deep down inside that unbeating heart. 

Nothing. He felt nothing. Only one thought was going through his head. 

‘Use the system.’

_

You witnessed a murder. You felt a man die in your own hands. 

You don’t go to anyone. Not the police, not to the hunters association, not even to your own family. You keep your hysteria locked up deep inside of you. You’d believe you. You could barely believe yourself for what you saw. Some days, you genuinely thought you were going crazy. 

But you know what you saw. You know what you felt. 

Apparently, seeing what your soulmate sees is rare, but not unheard of. It typically happens when one soulmate is in a great amount of distress, typically when they’re about to die. The theory is that sharing the trauma between two people would increase the odds of survival. 

You think back to the smiling statue. You think back to that man pleading for his life. Blood was prevalent in both. 

You try looking up ‘system’ and anything of that sort relating to hunters. Unlike your last delve into research, you turn up with nothing. 

You get paranoid. Even you can admit that. You can’t help but avoid hunters these days, even the lower-ranked ones. The thought that one of them could be him makes you want to vomit. 

Or maybe all hunters were like him? Filled with bloodlust, eager to shred skin. Now that you think about it, the man back then hadn’t been all that innocent. You could feel the rage emanating from him as well, the desire to kill. He just never got to fulfill his desires. 

These people were roaming the street, completely free. They received no consequences for their actions what-so-ever. In some respects, your paranoia is justified. His slit throat could one day be yours. 

You don’t see any more visions after that day. Something that you’re extremely grateful for. It makes you think that you could even forget that you ever even had a soulmate. You’d like that. God, more than anything, you’d like that. Soulmates were supposed to be romantic. Every time you thought of yours, you were supposed to get butterflies in your stomach. Not fear. Not horror. 

How many things had he stolen from you? 

Does he even know you exist? Does he care? 

You can’t avoid hunters forever. They were a staple in mainstream culture. Basically ingrained into society itself. Celebrities, politicians, and the reach of hunters was prevalent everywhere. So when the 10th S-ranked hunter in Korea was revealed, you simply had to go and see. Your friends were insistent on it. You reluctantly went, partially out of guilt for constantly blowing them off these days and partially because you were trying to slowly overcome your irrational fear.

It was a grand affair. The press was going wild, and pictures upon pictures were taken. A flash would go off every millisecond. You were in the back of the crowd, and even you were taken aback by how much of a spectacle it was. 

“Can you see anything?” You friend asks eagerly, shifting through the crowd. “I only see cameras!” 

“Same here.” You agree and then you move to a less crowded place, right by the railing. “Oh, come over here, I think I see him–” 

You’ve never seen your soulmate before. 

You’ve only gotten glimpses. Hands, bloodied hands. Clothes, torn clothes. You’ve never seen his jet black hair. You’ve never seen his tall figure. You’ve never seen terrifyingly blank eyes. And yet, you instantly knew. 

It was him. 

That was your soulmate. 

In that moment, he freezes. You regain control of your feet to duck back into the crowd. You’ve never been more grateful for the wall of cameras, a divide between you and that–that–

What even was he anymore?

When you peek over, he’s already walking away, a crowd of hunters surround him. He hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have, right?  You know the soulmate bond is vice versa, so if you knew who he was just by looking at him. 

Sung Jin-woo could, too. 

You leave without telling your friends. You ignore their calls and messages. For days, you sit in your room, huddled in the corner. You’re waiting for something. A break in the silence. An attack. Him. The only things you do is eat, wait, go to work, wait, eat, wait, wait. 

A week passes. Nothing happens. The Jeju island raid comes and goes; you watch as the entirety of Korea cheers for him, unknowing of his horrors. 

He doesn’t know you, even if all you can think about is him. It’s torture. You wish you could stop. 

_

Something that calmed you down these days was baths. Even then, you made sure they were only for special occasions. This week, your boss hinted at the thought of a full-time position instead of being a contractor. Things were going well in your life. You wanted to reward yourself. 

It’s a good night. The water is just the right temperature, and you’re so comfortable you almost fall asleep in the suds. When the water turns lukewarm, you step, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel. The soapy water drains into the sink as you dress yourself in warm clothes, fresh out of the dryer. 

It’s a good night. You order takeout, settle on your couch, and play something meaningless. You laugh at the half-hearted jokes the characters make. 

It’s a good night. You’re warm. Your belly’s full. You’re content, and your eyes are drooping. You’re close to dropping when you finally pad into your bedroom. The light’s already on. 

He’s standing right next to your bed, unmoving even when the creak of your door is so loud it’s ringing in your ears. You’re frozen, your heartbeat is so loud. The intruder calmly looks over a picture frame.

“Are these your parents?” Sung Jin-woo asks, “Are you close with them?” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mouth is so dry, you want to scream but your horror keeps you silent–it also, unfortunately, keeps you rooted in place. You’re too terrified to run. In retrospect, you doubted they would’ve let you go far. 

“The King asked you a question.” A voice hissed in your ear. That causes you to scream, whirling around, just in time to spot a monster emerging from the shadows. You don’t know what it is, you don’t care, watching as it fully forms, tall domineering, more insect-like than anything. A monster. 

Panic. You pull yourself into a corner before your knees give out. You’re so terrified you're close to pissing yourself. 

The man doesn’t seem so concerned. If anything, he looks the slightest bit irritated, like the monster’s sudden appearance was an inconvenience more than anything else. 

“Beru.” Sung Jin-woo starts. “You were supposed to be keeping watch.” 

The monster bows, suddenly flustered. “I’m sorry, My King. You see, this one wasn’t giving you an answer, so I thought–” Sung Jin-woo clicks his tongue. 

“Just get lost.” 

It disappears. And then, it’s just you and him. Alone. 

Sung Jin-woo sighed before he kneels in front of you. He’s smiling, like his presence is supposed to comfort you, somehow. You press yourself further into the wall, watching him. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, voice soft, you watch as his hand reaches out. “I hope he didn’t startle you too badly. He’s…taking some time to get used to humans.” 

“Please don’t touch me.” 

You’re surprised at your voice. So is he. His fingers stop inches from your skin. Sung Jin-woo waits before he eventually retracts, standing back up. The space is supposed to be relieving. It isn’t. 

You already know what he’s capable of, even miles away. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He starts. “Why would I hurt my soulmate?” 

You cringe at his words. His smile drops ever so slightly. 

“Do you have any siblings?” He asks, glancing back at the portrait of your parents. “Or are you an only child?” 

He’s acting like you two are on some date with the way he’s asking all these questions. Maybe to his deranged mind, that’s precisely what this is.  

“Please go.” Your voice is so low, barely a whisper. “Please please please leave.”

That’s all you can say. Threatening will lead you nowhere. Calling the police on an S-class hunter is laughable. Attacking him is even more pitiful. The most you can do is beg the monster in your room to go away. He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t respond, not to your pleas, at the very least, but his smile completely drops. His face is uncannily blank. It’s terrifying, but you’re glad he’s stopped pretending he’s human.

“I always wanted to meet you.” Sung Jin-woo suddenly says, “Even back when I was an E-class. You…you helped me out of many binds, those days. I don’t think I’d still be alive without you.” 

He’s talking about the days you’d wake up and realize both your arms were broken when you’d be rushed to the hospital for a broken rib. When the hospital staff saved your life, they inversely saved his. If you two had met a few months ago, you’d be overjoyed to hear this, you’d be so glad that your intervention saved his life. 

“And then that dungeon appeared–the statues.” Your heart drops, but he doesn’t stop talking. “I thought I lost you that day. When that statue pierced my heart, I felt you die. I think I heard you for the first time. You were screaming, and then I felt your heart stop.” 

You whimper, trying to push him away; he grabs your face with his hands, forcing you to face him. Your hands grip his wrist, nails clawing at this skin. He doesn’t care, why would a man who’s fought monsters care about a kitten with tiny claws? 

“But here you are.” He’s giving a breathless laugh. “Completely unharmed. The system must have saved you. The system must have known that I would go insane if I lost you.” 

He was already insane. You don’t know when he lost his mind, but you know that it was far before he met you. You shiver when he presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. The tears are making your vision blurry. You can’t stop the hiccups and sobs, feeling like you’re on the verge of a panic attack. 

“I know you don’t understand, but I need to keep you safe.” He’s insisting. “I have so many enemies. People who’d want nothing more than to rip you into pieces.” 

You turn away, and he lets you hide from his face, tucking into his chest. His hands–the same ones he used to kill people–find their way to your shoulders, keeping you within his grasp, as though he’s terrified of you disappearing if he isn’t constantly crushing you within his grip. 

“I love you, " he murmurs into your hair, and you just cry louder. “I need to protect the ones I love; I can’t lose anyone else.” 

One moment, you’re in your room, the next, you aren’t. The shadows engulf you. When they disappear, you’re in an expansive room. The ceiling is miles above your head. As soon as Jin-woo releases you, you immediately scuttle away, shuffling into a corner.

“Where am I?” You demand, panicked. “What–what did you do–” 

You cut yourself off when a coughing fit wrecks your body. It must be pathetic from his point of view, for a monster like him. Maybe if he sees how pitiful you are, he’d realize this was all a mistake and let you go. 

He doesn’t. His eyes just soften. 

“It’s okay.” He tries to console when it starts to sound like you can’t breathe. “You’re safe now.” He takes a step forward, but this time, you don’t let him get close. He stops at your closed stature. His jaw works, and you realize how bad it would be if you got this kidnapper, psycho, murderer, irritated with you. 

“My King,” A familiar rasp comes. “My apologies, but the dungeon you requested is starting to open.” 

The same ant monster materializes beside him. Sung Jin-woo frowns when he’s interrupted, but you’re glad his attention is diverted elsewhere. His lips purse, like he’s debating something in his brain. His searing gaze fixes itself on you. 

After a suffocating minute, he steps back. 

“I apologize,” he says, “this must be a lot to take in. I’ll give you some time to adjust.” 

The more he backs off, the more you feel like you can breathe again. But you can’t relax fully. He waves his hand and another monster appears in your vision. A large knight-like monster with a long red plume. His dark armour clicks everytime he moves. 

“Igris will be right by the door if you need anything.” He tells you it’s supposed to be kind, but it sounds like nothing more than a warning. The knight bows to Sung Jin-woo, and you can feel the knight looking at you before he makes his way out the door, stopping at his post.

Sung Jin-woo watches you for a bit, before he finally relents, stepping away to stand back with the ant monster. The shadows run back to him again and then he’s completely gone. 

You’re alone. 

The door is shut, probably locked. Outside, you can hear the knight back back and forth, like a diligent guard. A diligent guard of a prison. 

Slowly, you curl into a ball, and as quietly as you can, you cry. 

[gothghostiie]

Thinking about Price snapping and deciding he needs to take all his people (you, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap) and keep them safe in his basement where only he can hurt them :( Sometimes he makes you or the boys fuck each other while he watches :(((

anon you have no idea how much i simply love this??

cw: kidnapping, poly!141, gn!reader

Nobody really expected price to actually do this. he did joke about it after some particularly dangerous mission, 'gonna lock all of you into my basement for safekeepin.'

you and the others had a chuckle, price didnt. price just eyed all of you over, like he was inspecting you. he knew all about each one of you, weaknesses, strengths, hell he even knew your routines at this point. none of you notice his look, the subtle glint in his eyes. you forget about the joke rather quickly, going about your usual days - that is until the next mission. hes out with gaz, the mission almost goes south and price snaps. he comes back alone, telling you gaz needs to rest for a few days. the next one gone is soap, price tells you he took a leave to go see his family.

with everyone gone you and ghost sleep together, he tells you he thinks something is up, why would your lovers not tell you when they leave? why wont they talk? it makes you think, it makes you nervous. even worse when you wake up alone the next day. you check everywhere simon could be but he's just not there. desperate you go to price whos in his office. he hugs you to his chest to calm you down. "it's alright bird, quit your panicking.. he's out on a run, alright? nothin' happened." you look up at him, and it clicks.

and he knows it does. the last thing you remember is him grabbing you from behind when you made a run for the door. now you're waking up in your underwear in a big bed, the soap and gaz doting on you while simon is pacing around the dark, cold room. that is until he freezes, as heavy steps walk towards the wooden door.