#pajamas party | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Tenebrific

Warnings: non/dubcon, blood, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Tenebrific - causing gloom or darkness (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

**for this drabble, I have named Syverson Elijah as he does not seem to have a canon first name

The message was sent almost half an hour ago. You check the time again. Actually, it’s been longer than that. You swear, men have no concept of time.

You sigh and put your phone on the side table. Your glass is empty. You really didn’t want to indulge in a second before Andy got there but alas, he is pushing your tolerance, in more ways than one. After the day you’ve had, you desperately need to unwind.

You get up and the sheer layers of fabric tickle along your lower stomach. Ugh, you should just get out these ridiculous pajamas. Simple is better. He probably wouldn’t even notice the effort. It hardly matters. It’s just sex.

You take your glass and clink it down on the kitchen counter. You pour some more merlot and swirl it as you consider the dark depths. You taste it and the bitterness stains your tongue. You should just reply and tell him not to bother. You’re tired of more than waiting.

You spin and a knock sounds at the door. Too late. He’s there. You roll your eyes and set the glass on the granite once more. You sweep through into the entry way and steel yourself. You try to figure how you should proceed. You could get some steam off. It would do him well to be used and tossed back out into the night.

You open the door, ready to reproach Andy for his delay but stop short. Your hand pauses midway into an accusatory point and you lower it slowly. You purse your lips as you swallow back your surprise.

“Elijah,” you greet the bearded man, overly aware of your current exposed state. His eyes betray his notice of your limited attire. You can’t recall if you can see through and you’re too embarrassed to look down.

You stare at your unexpected visitor. The implications of his unannounced appearance do not elude you. Not only do you wonder why he is there but how he knows where you live.

“Doc,” his voice is grizzly as he rubs his buzzcut, “hey.”

“Hello,” you respond tritely, “you are aware that it is after midnight, Elijah?”

“Syverson,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Doc, please...”

You watch him warily as your unease rises. He’s in one of his moods. He’s walking the tightrope and one slip will send him plummeting. Of all your patience, he has shown the most progress yet the most concern.

“We have an agreement. We use our names. Our real names, yes? You are not Captain Syverson here.”

He sucks in a breath through his nose. His hand twitches at his side. The tick in his cheek and the restless sway in his stance unsettle you. He’s about to bubble over. You can’t let him go, as much as you want to tell him too. He’s in a dangerous state.

“Well, come in. I’ll make you some tea and we can talk,” you step back and open the door wider.

“Thanks,” he accepts the invite and you wait for him to enter then shut the door.

“Please, have a seat,” you gesture him into the front room.

He all too easily accepts. He goes into your living room, boots still on, and drops onto the couch. You give him a clinging look then detach and proceed into the kitchen. You turn on the kettle and circle around through the other doorway.

You come up at the other end of the sofa and slide your phone off the end table. You quickly send a message and hope it reaches your intended company.

“So,” you put the phone down again and move to stand behind the arm chair, hoping to block out the whimsical pajamas. “Elijah, what brings you here tonight?”

“Doc,” he fidgets and turns his head back and forth. “I...” he tilts his chin up and inhales again. “I’m struggling.”

“And what brought this on? Was there some event?” You prompt gently.

“Mmm, no... maybe...” he drones and drops his head into his hands. His elbows rest on his thighs as he shudders. “I did... something. I...”

You notice then the split on his knuckle. Smaller cuts higher up his fingers, his skin is tinged around his nails. Is that blood?

You glance over at your phone.

“What did you do, Elijah?” You ask. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He whimpers and shakes his head. He rocks and pulls a large hand away from his skull, only to box himself in the ear. He whines.

“I didn’t want to. It happened fast.” He gulps in air and sits up slowly. “There was a noise. Like thunder. Then it all--” He claps and winces at the loud impact of his palms.

“Right, well, let’s have the tea and we’ll talk about it,” you say calmly as you sidle out from behind the chair.

You subtly reach for your phone as you brush against the table. He’s faster than you think. He puts his hand over yours and stops you. Before you can recoil, he latches on. You repress your alarm and look him in the face. His eyes are foggy. They don’t stay on your face. They slowly scale down your body.

“Doc, you look nice,” he says.

“Thank you, Elijah,” you bring your other hand to pat his. “That’s a very nice compliment. Let me go get the tea and a robe.”

He doesn’t let go. He stands, keeping hold of you, stretching your arm over the table. He leans his head to one side as his gaze roves up and down your body.

“You dressed up for me?” He rasps.

“Now, Elijah, I wasn’t expecting you,” you say. “Please, let go so I can get dressed.”

He breathes heavily. He grabs the table with his other hand and shoves it aside. Your phone and the lamp crash onto the floor, the latter bouncing over your foot. You gasp as he yanks you closer.

“Elijah,” you say more firmly. “You’re scaring me. Remember our exercises. Let’s count and breathe--”

“For me,” he pulls you against him, hooking his arm around you.

“No,” you push on his chest, barely tamping down your panic. “Ten, breathe in-”

“Stop,” he warns as he hugs you closer. He toys with your hand and angles it to kiss your knuckles. Your eyes snag again on his tortured skin. “I just wanna...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His touch slides down your back and he gropes your ass. You squeal in surprise and slap his chest, “Captain Syverson,” you slip as you snarl through your teeth, “you quit this right now. Get off--”

“Captain,” he repeats and nods. “Yes, you can call me captain.”

He digs his nails through the flimsy shorts and pulls your arm over his shoulder. You try to pull away but he’s too strong. Your fear breaks through in a throttled whimper.

“Elijah--”

“Captain,” he corrects you and once more slings his arm around you.

“You are being--”

He encircles you entirely with his arm and bends his knees. He lifts you off your feet and swings you around. You kick out in shock and wrestle with him as he carries you around the room. He falls onto you, crushing you into the couch cushions.

You wheeze as his weight knocks the wind out of you. He untangles his arm from under your and grabs your face. He turns your head straight as you grit your teeth. You slap his thick arm. You can smell his sweat and the iron of blood.

“Elijah,” you whittle out, “please... let’s just talk...”

The kettle quakes noisily from the kitchen as he keeps you pinned. You squirm but can barely move. He smothers you with his body. You feel how the cushions thin under both of you.

He pushes his knees down and forces them between your legs. You whine and clasp onto his camo shirt. You puff out in short spurts, your ribs aching beneath him.

“I’ll be nice, doc. I just wanna be nice,” he purrs and rubs his nose against yours. “Like you want me to. You told me... told me I can be good. I wanna be good for you.”

“Eli--” you chuff out and your eyes sting. You’re not used to feel like this. To being powerless.

The kettle clicks off.

He plants his elbow and keeps your head locked in his hand. With his other, he feels along your side and plays with the blousing of the shorts. He pinches the sheer fabric and growls.

He slides his hand under you and reaches up to the elastic. He tugs the shorts down past your ass. You whine again as he digs his feet into the couch and lifts himself. He strips the shorts down your legs as you kick desperately.

He feels along your pelvis and pets the trimmed hair along your vee. You twitch in horror as he hums and kneads the flesh of your thigh. You fight as hard as you can but he’s too strong. He drops onto you again as the shorts hang from your one ankle.

“Elijah,” you beg.

“Call me captain, doc,” he snarls.

“You can’t-- my boyfriend is on his way--”

“Shh, shh, shhhhhhh,” he hushes you.

He scratches your naked thigh as he picks at his fly. You stare past him to the ceiling as your stomach knots and your breaths trap in your chest. You push on his thick arms.

“N-n-no,” you croak out.

He wiggles as he leans into you. His length presses against your triangle of curly hair and he shifts back. He prods at you as he blindly guides his tip down. You squeak and jab your nails into his rounded shoulders. He rubs his fingers along your cunt as he nudges his pulsing dick back to your entrance.

You bend your legs, heels jabbing down into the couch, and try to push him off. It does nothing. He presses against your cunt and you open around him. You feel as if you’re tearing as he dips into you. You snarl into a shriek as he sheathes himself in your walls.

You whimper and groan as he thrusts to his limit. You drag your nails down his cheek and clutch onto his beard, tugging as you roar.

“Arggh! Get off!” You go to claw him again and he swats away your hand.

He clasps onto your wrist, then the other as you thrash with that. He pins both above you and lifts himself. He rocks his hips as your legs slips over the edge of the couch. You scream as he keeps his motion steady, each pump straining you past your limit. Each intrusion is fiery and dry. As if he’s scraping your inside.

His eyes fixate on the joining of your bodies as he puffs through his nose like a bull. His eyes are dark as he watches himself impale you over and over. Your tits bulge against the cups, falling out as he hammers you into the cushions, bouncing your body like it’s nothing.

He ruts down into you with all his weight and force. You fear him breaking your bones as each tilt of his hips is harder than the last. Your lashes web with tears and you bite down into your lip.

“Stop, please,” you babble, “my boyfriend--”

He snaps his hips up and you cry out again. You push your head back and choke through the pain. He slams down, over and over and over.

He lowers himself over you, resting his arms around yours as he squeezes your wrists until the ache. He presses a kiss to your cheek as you stare at the wall. You shake and spasm, giving into the futility.

“He’s not coming...” he sneers as his motion slows to long but just as torturous strokes, “I... I made sure.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #sleepover #pajama party #sand castle

239 notes · View notes