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yam-writes · 4 years ago

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mine forever Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Strade x Reader Additional Tags: Sadism, Knifeplay, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blood and Torture, Torture, Oral Fixation, Biting, Bruises, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Masochism, Stockholm Syndrome, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence here you go :) it’s a little shorter and i wrote it after i got my wisdom teeth out, but i hope you like it anyway! :) you can read it on ao3 or under the cut :)

You didn’t know how long you had been down there, tied to that pole. It was pretty easy to keep track of the days at first, but as the amount of times he came down increased, and the amount of sleep you were getting decreased, the days all blurred together and you didn’t know how long you were out versus how long you were awake. Not that it mattered, anyway. What little sleep you did get wasn’t any better than the horrors of being awake, your dreams poisoned by him along with reality. It seemed like no matter what you did he was always there, stuck in your head, a perfect picture of him carved into your brain.

So your mind was a little fucked. Keeping track of the time wasn’t at the top of your priorities list, but if you had to guess you would’ve said it was a few weeks. But, really, you weren’t even paying much attention. You were far too worried about the grumbling of your stomach, the dryness in your throat, the stickiness of your skin, the smell that you were pretty sure was coming from you, and the pain that crept over every inch of your body. You didn’t know how long it had been, but you hoped that it had been long enough for him to just kill you.

Of course you could never get that lucky, though. “Looks like you belong to me now.” That’s what he had said, and that’s what he kept reminding you every time he fucked you, make you fuck him, came on your face, down your throat, on your back, on your stomach, inside you. Every time he dug his knife into your skin, opened a new wound, reopened old ones. Every time he shoved his fingers in your blood and made you taste it, every time he tasted it himself. “Mine, mine, mine.” That’s all you ever fucking heard.

You thought being kept would be a good thing. That meant you weren’t going to die. But was it really worth it? If you were going to be stuck down in his basement for the rest of your life, no, it wasn’t worth it, but what else were you supposed to do? Just deny yourself any pleasure you might receive because of who was giving it to you? He was already depriving you of everything, why should you do it to yourself? It wasn’t worth it, no, but it was all you had.

You found yourself clinging onto him. When he would untie your wrists and pull you close, you dug your fingers into the back of his shirt and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You stared up at him in wonder, watching him grab tools from shelves, unbutton his belt, clean up your blood from the floor. Your body ached when he was gone, and part of that was for him. It was fucked up how much you had come to want him, to need him. You hated yourself for it, but he was all you had. What else were you supposed to do? Maybe you really were his.

You even found yourself calling out his name. Sometimes it would be in your sleep, but other times you’d be fully awake and calling out for him. It was hard sitting down there, in the dark, for God knows how long, just waiting for him to come back. You longed for any touch, his touch, to feel his fingers on your skin, the warmness of his body pressed against yours. So you called out for him. And he would come.

It was one of those times, sleepiness and blood loss making your head foggy, that you called out for him. You didn’t know how he heard you, considering that you figured the basement was sound proof. It had to be, with the things that went on down there. But you heard thumping come from upstairs anyway as you called out his name again. After a few minutes, the basement door swung open and the light from upstairs flooded in. You flinched, preparing yourself for the bright lights that would turn on next, but they never came. The room was plunged into darkness as the door shut again. You heard fumbling around for a few more seconds, and then a wall light came on, trading the harshness of the white overhead lights for a nice, warm, orange glow.

You looked at the light and then to Strade, who was leaning against a counter, his arms crossed. He was staring at you, a smile on his face, but it wasn’t his usual big, toothy smile. No, this one was more contained. He had a- you leaned in closer, trying to get a better look. You squinted your eyes and, no, yeah, he definitely did have a lollipop stuck between his teeth. He raised his arm and grabbed the stick, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

“You called?” he asked, amusement dripping from his voice like acid. He waved the lollipop around.

You swallowed and nodded, trying to tear your eyes away from the lollipop. The only thing you had to eat those past few days were granola bars and some jerky. Your mouth was practically watering at the candy. It wasn’t anything with any sustenance, but at least it was something different.

“Do you need something?” he asked, slowing down each word.

“I just-” you heard your voice say. “I just missed you.”

Strade let out a loud laugh. “You missed me?” he asked. He stepped forward and leaned down beside you. “Then we should spend some time together, yeah?”

You stared up at him, your mouth hanging open. His proposition hung in your head and your brain was yelling at you for willingly calling him down there, for participating in his game. You knew you were only egging him on.

“Okay,” you squeaked.

Strade hummed. He stared at you for another moment before pushing himself up. He shoved the lollipop in his mouth again. You saw the stick move as he swirled it around. He walked around until he was standing in front of you.

“So what do you want to do?” he asked, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth again.

You swallowed. Your eyes were still on the lollipop. You were really craving it. “Can I-” you started. You shifted. moving your arms in the ropes slightly. “Do you have another one?” you asked, gesturing your head towards his hand.

Strade’s eyebrows raised and his eyes shifted to the candy in his hand. “Do you want one?” he asked.

You nodded, licking your lips.

Strade let out a laugh and said, “Okay!” He stepped towards you and bent down. “You can have this one!” He reached out and grabbed your chin, pulling your mouth open. He shoved the lollipop in your mouth and you felt the sweetness on your tongue. He pushed your chin up, closing your mouth.

You coughed, the sudden entrance of something in your mouth causing you to choke. You pushed the lollipop to the side of your mouth with your tongue, feeling your saliva and Strade’s covering your mouth. Your hand instinctively raised to move the stick, but you were stopped by the ropes. The pole vibrated, which caused Strade to let out a loud laugh.

“You like it?” he asked.

You moved the lollipop around in your mouth, pushing it to the other side. You looked up at him and nodded. “Thank you,” you said around the lollipop.

Strade smiled. He reached his hand up and cupped your cheek. You leaned into the touch.

“My pet is always so polite,” Strade said. He scooted forward and placed his forehead on yours. “Didn’t even need much training.” He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, seemingly in thought. Then, his eyes opened and he smiled. “I think you deserve a reward!”

You looked at him through your lashes. “A reward?” you asked. You could feel drool drip from your lip from the lack of free movement the lollipop had.

Strade hummed and stood up. He stared down hard at you, and you felt your body flush at his gaze. You watched his eyes move as you shifted the lollipop. Then, he moved his feet, walking around until he was behind you. You heard shuffling, and then a thump onto the ground. You saw Strade’s legs appear on either side of you and his body pressed against yours and the pole as he scooted closer. He reached his hand out and ran a finger from your knee to your thigh, making you wince as he scraped over wounds. His finger ran all the way up, rubbing over your hip and your tummy. He went through the middle of your chest and up your neck. The light touch made you shudder, and you let your head fall back against the pole. You shifted the lollipop again as his finger reached under your chin, hooking around until it was running over your lips.

“Is this my reward?” you asked, feeling even more drool dropping out of your mouth.

Strade let out a small laugh as he ran his finger through your spit. He moved his hand away from you and even though you couldn’t see what he was doing, the muffled hum he let out told you that he had shoved his finger in his mouth. You heard a wet pop noise and then Strade’s voice.

“You’re antsy tonight,” he said. He leaned forward and you felt his lips brush against your ear. “You’ll get your reward soon enough.” You felt his hands on your again, slowly gliding down. He rested his chin on your shoulder, in the crook of your neck. You took in a sharp breath as his right hand rested around your neck and his left kept going down.

You bit your lip as his fingers found your clit. He rubbed circles, slowly, drawing out any pleasure you could receive from this. His other hand squeezed lightly against your neck, his thumb rubbing under your jaw. He continued to run circles around your clit, speeding up his pace so that you wouldn't notice his hand traveling up your neck.

When his finger slipped down and plunged inside of you roughly, you completely forgot about the lollipop. Your mouth flew open, the lollipop hanging on by your lip. But Strade’s hand had made its way up, and his fingers grabbed the stick. You didn’t even know what he was doing until you couldn’t breathe.

You leaned forward, letting out a loud cough, candy coated spit dripping from your mouth. You could feel the lollipop down your throat, the stick pressed against the roof of your mouth. Strade let out a loud laugh as you continued to cough, trying to get the lollipop out. His hands left your body and he stood up. You turned your head and watched him walk around until he was standing in front of you. You clenched your throat, feeling the lollipop lodged in there. You leaned forward, letting the spit fall onto the floor.

“What’s the matter?” Strade asked, bending down in front of you. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You stared up at him, your eyes wide at the lack of oxygen. The blood rushing in your ears made it hard to hear anything, but you could just barely catch the sounds of your own wheezing. “You wanted the lollipop, didn’t you?”

You felt tears slide down your face and you thought for sure this was how you were going to die. You gagged around the candy, your arms jerking involuntarily to get the lollipop out of your mouth. You could hear the vague sound of Strade’s laughter as your vision started to go blurry. You went still, not having enough energy to keep trying to cough up the lollipop.

That’s when Strade’s hand found your mouth, pulling it open wide. His fingers dug inside wrapping around the stick. He pulled it out and you gasped, pulling in a raggedy breath of air. You coughed more, finally able to breathe again. You spit, candy and blood hitting the floor. You looked up at Strade, feeling the scratchiness on your throat. You watched him toss the lollipop to the floor, breaking in half and shattering.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said with a small shrug. “You look cute when you’re choking.”

You continued to cough, the tears falling freely. You jerked against the ropes as you rocked your body, trying to find your breath again. You felt the rope burning your wrists, but honestly that pain helped to bring you down as your breaths calmed and got steadier. After a few minutes, you were leaning your head back against the pole and panting at the ceiling.

Strade took a deep breath in and then walked towards the counter. You watched him pull a drawer open and you heard some clanging inside.

“You did so good,” he said. He reached into the drawer and grabbed something. He turned around with a huge smile on his face and held up a knife. “Just one more thing and then you can get your reward!”

You gulped as he stepped towards you. You pulled your legs up, but he bent down and gripped your ankle, pulling your leg back down. He pulled the other one down, too, and then reached his hand out. He ran his fingers across your stomach, causing you to suck in a breath of air. He let out a small noise and then stood back up, walking around behind you. You felt his hands on yours and he tugged up roughly.

“Stand up,” he said.

You pulled your legs up and pushed yourself onto your feet, feeling the sting of the rope on your wrists as they slid up the pole. Strade walked back in front of you and stepped close, pressing as much of himself against you as he could while still having enough room to move the knife around. His right arm leaned against the pole above your head. He looked down and pressed the flat side of the cold blade against your stomach. You took a sharp breath in.

He looked up at you as he twisted the blade and said, “Spell it out for me, okay?”

You didn’t know what you were supposed to be spelling out, but you didn’t have much time to think about it because immediately after you felt a small slash down your stomach, followed by another one and then another one. You let a loud hiss, and felt the tears brimming at your eyes. You turned your head away, trying somehow to get away from the pain.

“S,” Strade said, smiling big at you.

You didn’t say anything, completely forgetting about what he had told you to do only a moment before. You squeezed your eyes shut, but then you felt a sharp pain hit your cheek as Strade slapped you, blood splattering inside your mouth.

“I said spell it out,” he growled, pushing his face into yours.

“S!” you repeated, pushing the letter out through your teeth.

Strade smiled and gave your cheek two pats, then looked back down at your tummy. He moved the knife again, two slashes, one up and one across.

“T,” he said.

“T!” you choked out.

He didn’t waste any time moving his hand slightly and getting started on the next letter. You felt the blood from the other slashes slide down your body, and your vision was starting to get hazy. The tears fell down your face as the next slashes started, four in total, right above your belly button.

“R,” Strade said, his voice getting slower and his breathing getting heavier.

“R,” you said weakly, the dots connecting in your head. You knew what he was spelling. Of course you knew.

He moved his hand and you winced as the knife pushed into your skin and dragged down, then moved slightly, connecting to the top of the cut and dragging down the other side. Then one more slice across the middle.

“A,” you gulped, not even giving him time to speak.

Strade looked up, a huge smile spreading across his face. “Hey!” he said, sounding the happiest you had heard him in a while. “You got it!”

He looked back down and pulled the knife across your stomach again. You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall freely. Your stomach jerked inward with every slash, but Strade’s right hand had moved from above your head and had gripped your waist.

“D,” you said. You could feel your body getting weaker, begging to just be able to sit down again.

Strade cut into you more, slashing once down and then three times across. You cried out, attempting to kick your legs and move away, but his fingers dug into your side, holding you still.

“E,” you sobbed.

Strade breathed in and dropped the knife to the floor. His right hand dropped and he groped himself through his pants, his other hand reached out and touched the “s” gliding over the letter lightly.

“And what’s that spell?” he asked, looking up at you, smiling.

“Strade!” you choked out. “Strade.” The second time came out more raggedy.

“Right!” he praised. His fingers moved from the “S” and traced over every letter, your body jerking and wincing with every motion. He let his fingers push into the wounds, his fingertips violating you in the worst way. He smeared your blood all over your body and his hand. When he was finished tracing the letter, he raised his hand up and shoved a finger in his mouth. He let out a small groan and then pulled it out. He let out another sigh as he looked at you, a fond smile on his face. “There! Now you really are mine forever.”

You let out a choked sob as the knowledge of what he had just said seeped into your brain. He had carved his name into your stomach, there was nothing you could do. Even if you somehow did manage to get away, he would always be on your body, always be stuck on you. No matter what you did, you were always going to be his.

Strade was on you in an instant, pressing his body against you. The friction from the fabric on his shirt rubbing against your fresh cuts stung, and you whimpered as you felt his face press into your neck. He parted his lips and stuck his tongue out, dragging the flat of it all the way up to your ear. At the same time, his fingers had found their way to his pants, his knuckles intentionally grazing against the wounds as he undid his pants. When he had pushed his pants down slightly, he moved his hand and grabbed your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist.

His cock pressed against your entrance for only a moment before he was pushing himself inside. You let out a small cry at the rough entrance, feeling him stretch you open as he thrust all the way inside. His weight pushed you back, the pole pressing into your spine. He pulled out and then shoved back inside, the force enough to push you up the pole.

You jerked your hands, trying to reach out to grab him, touch him, push him away, pull him closer, just do anything, but the ropes stopped any major movement. He still had his face buried in your neck, and with one particularly hard thrust he bit down, causing you to clench around him. He let out a sharp hiss, sucking in the breath between his teeth at the feeling.

Strade’s fingers dug into your thigh, the tips pushing into wounds from days ago, reopening the barely healed cuts. He continued to fuck into you, his cock going deep enough to reach a spot that rarely ever got touched. The pressure was pain mixed with pleasure, your tummy feeling like it was just punched with every thrust. The bundles inside you were screaming that you should be crying out in pain, but the tears coming from your eyes were because of how good it felt despite the pain hazing out your brain. You pressed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms.

Strade was grunting and breathing hard, his slobber getting all over your neck. He pushed inside you again, gripping your thigh harder.

“You’re so,” he said against your neck, pausing and raising his head slightly, searching for the right word, “addicting,” he said into your ear.

You let out a small, defeated whine.

“I really am so glad I found you,” he continued, raising his head even more. He smiled down at you, getting rougher with every word, reveling in the way your face twisted. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of your sweat mixing together. “How lucky I am that someone was made to fit me perfectly.”

With that sentence, he pulled all the way out and thrust all the way back inside in one quick motion. You let out a loud cry and threw your head back. You could vaguely hear him laughing, your brain too focused on the pressure building up in your tummy, the way he was filling you up, making it seem like he was the only thing inside of you, the way his fingers were digging into your skin, and the irritation to the fresh cuts on your stomach. You clenched around Strade again, squeezing your leg around his waist tighter, feeling the inevitable about to come.

But then you were empty. Your eyes shot open and you looked at Strade. His eyebrows were pulled together, but he wasn’t looking back at you. He was pumping his dick in his hand, and then a few seconds later you felt the tip press against your stomach. Then a warmness hit your body as he came on you, along with the fresh cuts.

Strade’s fingers unwrapped from around your thigh and your leg dropped. You slumped slightly against the pole, the dizziness making it hard to stand. You fluttered your eyes and watched Strade put himself away, pulling up and buttoning his pants again. He hopped slightly and then straightened out his shirt. His eyes were on you again, your eyes heavy-lidded and your face ruined with tears and sweat and snot and some blood that had somehow made its way up there.

“We should probably clean this before it gets infected,” Strade said, reaching his hand out to run his fingers across your tummy, mixing the blood and cum together. You winced, but your body was too spent to react too much.

“Okay,” you mumbled out. You slid to the floor, rejoicing in the fact that you could finally sit again.

You let your head flop to the side as you watched Strade walk over to a nearby cabinet and pull out a small medical kit. He came back and you let him wipe you down, cleaning the area. When he was finished he put the kit up and then came back over to you. He circled around and you felt his fingers press against your wrists, untying the ropes. Your arms flopped to your sides, finally free. He circled back around.

Strade towered over you. “Time for your reward!” he boomed.

You stared up at him, fear washing over your face. But then he reached his hand out.

“Want to go upstairs?” he asked, his voice softening ever so slightly.

You looked up at him, swallowing. Your eyes flashed to the stairs and then back to his hand. Your eyebrows pulled down, your face shifting to confusion. He was going to let you go upstairs? He had to be joking. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

“What’s that face for?” Strade asked, letting out a loud laugh. “Don’t you trust me?”

You swallowed. You looked towards the stairs again and then your eyes landed back on him. You looked up at him, staring at his outstretched hand. He had to be planning something. He just had to. There was no way that he was going to let you go upstairs. He was going to get to the top and then push you back down, laughing as your crumbled body laid on the floor. He was going to let you stand up and then attack you when your back is to him. He wasn’t being genuine.

But, for some reason, you reached your hand out anyway, taking a hold of his and letting him pull you up. Whatever he was going to do couldn’t be any worse than what he had already done. Besides, you were his now, anyway. You had to do what he said.

#strade x you #btd strade #strade x reader #boyfriend to death #strade boyfriend to death #fanfiction #my friend said this was some kinky high schooler shit #and i said that strade is basically just a kinky high schooler #lmao

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