Stockholm Syndrome - Tumblr Posts

Adding this from the future: guys don't look at this I went insane

No this is so real. -🐶 <3

You were the one who I was most worried about not liking it so I'll post this for everyone, might as well contribute XD (redacted your name for privacy btw)

I need him so bad fuuuuuck

I know my brain is fucked up, has been since 4th grade but gods I wanna find him, stalk him and watch him through security cameras and later through his windows. Then I wanna break into his house, maybe sneak through his window while he's sleeping, steal a pair of boxers or a shirt he's recently worn... then I want to kidnap him, have him locked up in a beautiful lavish home far away from civilization with everything he could want if he could just love me. He'd struggle at first and honestly I want him to. I want him to back away from me for it to just be a wall or corner. Nowhere to run. Just fucking love me. Please it's almost like you're not real why does no one think he's amazing like I do. When he eventually comes around, I'd love for us to do cosplays together ❤️ he would be soap or **** and I could be Roach or a young pirate boy. If it really went well I would go for V**** next. I haven't really watched him lately but I remember his voice. I remember how they made me feel. Now that I think about it I'm probably not gonna post this but this is crazy. Is this how people with celebrity crushes feel? I've never been good with romance so idk. I think I need to make a character ai or Chai of this tiktoker or I'll go insane. Fuuck I need him so cute so mine pls please so mine? Please? Fuck his cute little waist and dubious sex. This little freak has captivated me. I'm like 90% he's trans.

Editor's note: I figured out he was just a twinky cis guy with a silly haircut and not, in fact, transmasculine. I still love him, of course, but I got a hit to my ego. Censored out the other person he could be/cosplay as it's an unpopular character that would make it too easy to find him. Also censored out V name.

Also, if you figure out who this is about, DO NOT send this to them or make them aware of this.

Slept So Long: Heart of Stone Ch. 1

Summary: It was a love story between the boy who was drowning and the girl who helped him breathe again.

Damon has been alive since 1864–as a vampire. While strolling through Mystic Falls, he spots the love of his life and the reason why he’s a monster–Katherine Pierce. Only now she’s human and calling herself by the name Elena Gilbert. Damon doesn’t care. He’ll get his revenge on Katherine. Whether she remembers him or not.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Angst, Kidnapping Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore & Katherine Pierce/Damon Salvatore Additional Tags: Human Elena Gilbert, Human Katherine Pierce, Human/Vampire Relationship, Vampire Bites, Possessive Damon Salvatore, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Stockholm Syndrome, Ripper Stefan Salvatore, No Humanity Stefan Salvatore, Protective Damon Salvatore, Sassy Damon Salvatore, Damon Salvatore being Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert & Damon Salvatore Friendship, Humanity Switch (Vampire Diaries) A/N Note: This was part of a role play that I started under my Damon Salvatore RP blog. It was never finished, so I thought I would finish it.

As Damon strolled down the streets of Mystic Falls, a figure caught his attention, causing him to stop and stare in disbelief. There, jogging down the street, was Katherine Pierce. His heart skipped a beat, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over him. He couldn't believe his eyes. He had thought she was dead.

Yet, here she was, alive and well, taking a run through Mystic Falls. Damon's mind raced with questions. Why had she let him believe she was dead? Why had she returned now, after all this time?

Damon pondered his next move, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Should he stalk her? The idea seemed tempting, but he shook his head, realizing it was foolish and could lead to more harm than good. Instead, he decided to confront her while she was out running. No one would come looking for her immediately if he nabbed her now.

With his decision made, Damon took a step forward, but his foot snapped a twig, catching Katherine's attention. She looked back and saw him, immediately realizing she was being pursued. She picked up her pace, attempting to outrun him.

Damon's smirk widened. Apparently, Katherine was human now and, therefore, no match for him. With the speed of a vampire, he surged forward, snatching her and knocking her unconscious.

Elena's eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar sight. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized she was lying on a cold, dirty cement floor. Rubbing her temples, she sat up, her head spinning from the sudden movement. The last thing she remembered was going out for a run and encountering a man. 'What the hell...' Her voice was barely audible, raspy from her dry throat.

Pulling herself up slowly, Elena took in the sparse room. There was a thin, old-looking cot off to the side and not much else. Fear gripped her as she wrapped her arms around herself, imagining something far worse than being locked up happening to her. She swallowed, trying to moisten her throat, and went to the small, barred window on the iron door, attempting to look out. "Hello?!" Her yell echoed faintly. "Hey! Let me the hell out of here!" It felt pointless, but it was the only natural thing to say at that moment.

"Don’t you watch horror movies? Nothing good ever comes from yelling ‘Hello!’ You should know better than that, Katherine," Damon snarked, peering into the cell.

His eyes traveled slowly over her, taking in every detail now that she was awake. Damon hadn’t had the chance to feed on her yet because he wasn’t sure if she was full of vervain. He was waiting for her to wake before he tested her. But first, he wanted to hear what she had to say about her sudden appearance in Mystic Falls after 145 years.

"So, Katherine, the last time we saw each other, Stefan and I were trying to save your ass from burning in the church. Care to elaborate on where you’ve been for the past 145 years?"

Elena jumped back a couple of feet when he appeared on the other side of the little window, her eyes wide as saucers. Katherine? She had no idea who this Katherine was, but she was sure as hell wasn’t her.

The way he looked at her made Elena feel completely uneasy as if she were on display like some animal in a cage, which essentially she was. He kept calling her Katherine, so hopefully, when he found out she wasn’t Katherine, he would just let her go on her merry way, and they both could forget about this misunderstanding.

"Listen, I don’t know who you think I am, but you have the wrong girl. My name isn’t Katherine, it’s Elena… and 145 years? I’m only seventeen…" Elena was unsure how to approach him, especially after he brought up horror movies, making it difficult to determine the appropriate course of action for dealing with someone who may be a murderer.

"Please, just let me out of here. I’m not going to tell anyone about this," Elena pleaded, holding her arms even more tightly around herself as she moved back from the door another step.

Damon's eyes narrowed as he stared at Katherine, who stood before him, trying to persuade him to let her go. He began clapping his hands slowly, a mocking smile on his lips. "Sorry, Katherine," he said, "but you'll have to do better than that if you want to convince me to release you. Your performance needs a little more rehearsal. As it stands, you're not going anywhere anytime soon."

With a firm grip, he inserted the metal bar into the slot and turned it, causing the cell door to creak open. As he stepped inside, his eyes fixed on Katherine, who shrank back instinctively from his ominous presence. With each step, his pace quickened, his movements predatory and deliberate, until he stood before her, a towering figure casting a long, menacing shadow.

"Okay, I’ll bite. If you really aren’t Katherine and just a seventeen-year-old girl, then what’s to stop you from telling anyone? How am I supposed to know that you won’t go scampering to Mystic Falls’ Finest if I let you go?" Damon asked with a flirty smirk.

Elena’s brows creased as the man on the other side of the door began to clap, calling her by a name that wasn’t her own. It was all incredibly odd and downright terrifying. She wondered what in the world she did to deserve this—or, more accurately, what this insanely old Katherine could have done to deserve it.

As he entered the cell and started moving towards her, Elena took a few steps back, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. Her big brown doe eyes widened, taking in the sight of the stranger who had invaded her personal space. The cold, hard wall at her back offered no escape. She couldn't understand the meaning behind the flirty smirk playing on his lips, or what he hoped to achieve by being here. All she knew was that this situation made her uncomfortable and scared.

Her heart racing with fear, Elena spoke in a trembling voice, "I have no reason to tell anyone. You haven't hurt me, so why should I hurt you?" She desperately wanted to escape and return to the safety of her home, where she could come up with an excuse to justify her absence. Despite her fear, she tried to remain calm and composed, hoping that her captor would release her unharmed.

Damon advanced towards her with a slow, measured gait, his movements graceful and almost cat-like. With every step, he inched closer to his prey, his eyes fixed on her with an unblinking intensity, like a predator stalking its prey. He stopped a few feet away from her and cocked his head to the right, taking in her scent, her fear, and her vulnerability. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest, almost drowning out all other sounds, and he could practically taste her fear on his tongue. The scent of her adrenaline was intoxicating, and it made his blood boil with excitement. Perfect, Damon thought to himself. Fear and adrenaline always made the blood taste sweeter, and they were the main reasons why he loved to chase his food rather than compelling it.

In the dimly lit room, Damon gazed at Elena, wondering why he had never considered having fun with her before. As the dimly lit room cast its shadows, he leaned closer, his piercing eyes locking with hers. Suddenly, he stepped aside and gestured towards the open door behind him, compelling her to stay.

"You will not leave this house for any reason," Damon compelled her, then he stepped aside and gestured towards the open door behind him. He held her gaze for a moment longer before finally saying, "Run."

Heart of Stone Master List

Summary: It was a love story between the boy who was drowning and the girl who helped him breathe again.

Damon has been alive since 1864–as a vampire. While strolling through Mystic Falls, he spots the love of his life and the reason why he’s a monster–Katherine Pierce. Only now she’s human and calling herself by the name Elena Gilbert. Damon doesn’t care. He’ll get his revenge on Katherine. Whether she remembers him or not.

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Angst, Kidnapping Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Damon Salvatore & Katherine Pierce/Damon Salvatore Additional Tags: Human Elena Gilbert, Human Katherine Pierce, Human/Vampire Relationship, Vampire Bites, Possessive Damon Salvatore, Inspired by The Vampire Diaries, Stockholm Syndrome, Ripper Stefan Salvatore, No Humanity Stefan Salvatore, Protective Damon Salvatore, Sassy Damon Salvatore, Damon Salvatore being Damon Salvatore, Elena Gilbert & Damon Salvatore Friendship, Humanity Switch (Vampire Diaries)

CHAPTER 1: Slept So Long

CHAPTER 2: Tear You Apart (coming May 10)

how TF am I getting Stockholm syndrome from a fanfic???? are my daddy issues really that bad? Should I see a therapist???

the fic is call am I allowed to die now on ao3. It contains triggering concepts. Very reminiscent of killing stalking, just without the sexual stuff.

Little Gift - Latch

Neteyam photo by @cinetrix

Pairing: Dark Aged Up Neteyam x Human Fem Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, DUBCON/NONCON, kidnapping, MDNI EXPLICIT, yandered qualities, possessive behavior, slight degradation, interspecies intimacy, swearing, power imbalance, sub reader, dom Neteyam, manipulation, hair pulling, creampie, a lot more stuff but at this point you hopefully know whether or not you should read haha

Summary: Victory is finally his and Neteyam knows exactly how he wants to celebrate it.

A/N: A little unsure about my word choice but it's been fun writing from Neteyam perspective for the first time in this series. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist I Little Gift Masterlist

You belong here, perched on his lap with your head notched against his shoulder. So small and pretty that his legs barely register your body weight. He wraps a hand around your outer thigh to angel you further against him. This is perfect.

Everything is perfect. 

Pandora has rid of those Sky Demons and his prize, his little gift, is still here in his arms where you will always be. Those traitors are no longer here to tempt you with false promises of escape and a life outside of belonging to the Olo’eyktan. You may not realize it now but they would have broken you. It is only a miracle from Eywa that has allowed your beautiful spirit to stay in tack after all those years of inhabiting the same space as those treacherous creatures. 

The RDA may think that you are a gift given by them but in reality it is Eywa that has placed you on his lap.

You were created for him. Designed perfectly inside and out. 

His reward for all that he has had to endure. 

Now with you safely tucked in his arms and his People celebrating their freedom once more, he can rest. He is free to savor all that the Great Mother has offered him, although you prove to be difficult to rangle at times. That’s okay, he enjoys a good challenge. It makes your earned submission all that more satisfying. 

He’s not sure how long one human can cry for but it appears you are shooting for a record. Your tears have soaked the feathers of his Olo’eyktan attire but he doesn’t mind, not when you are snuggling into him for comfort. 

His plan of distraction worked wonders during take off but it was only a matter of time before your mind came back online and began worrying once more about the absence of people that never truly loved you. It’s to be expected however Neteyam is pleased to find that your response is not one of anger but sadness and seeking refuge. He couldn’t have asked for anything more ideal. 

He is your refuge, your one true home and the fact that you are learning that so quickly makes a sense of pride burst within him. 

The glittering gems of your new top compliment your own sparkling tears exquisitely. It had taken weeks for him to make but it was worth it. He would want nothing less for his pet on a night of such grand celebration. However, it becomes abundantly clear that he is not the only one who appreciates the outfit. 

It’s the fifth time Lo’ak has turned in the direction of the throne while dancing to check on you. Or at least, that is how his younger brother would be sure to phrase it but Neteyam is no fool. He can see the hunger in those eyes. Typical of his younger sibling to chase after what he can not have. What Neteyam himself possesses. 

Their eyes meet and it only takes a moment for Lo’ak to recover from being caught and roll his own back at his brother and turn to continue dancing. He’s not sure how much longer this game will go on where Lo’ak pretends to hold no interest. One way or another it will come out. Neteyam’s arm tightens around your waist, fingers running through your silky hair. 

It is then that he notices your little sobs have stopped and are now replaced with long deep breaths. It’s amazing that you are able to sleep through the banging drums and echoing calls but it seems that all of your crying has worn out your poor little body. Such a fragile thing you are. 

All the more reason to keep you close. And yet another reason he finds his mind swirling back to the idea of keeping you on a leash. Ideally he would carry you to and fro but there are times where he needs to have his hands available. With your habit to wander off he can’t risk having you fall and break your little neck. A leash would be the perfect solution.

Not to mention how good you would look trailing behind him, sweet little bow around your throat as a permanent reminder of his claim on you. 

His tewng [loincloth] is unbearably tight. It presses against your soft thighs but that’s not enough. For perhaps the hundredth time you shift in his lap, unable to sit comfortably on your red ass. You’ve given up on trying to convince him to let you stand but that doesn’t stop that supple little pout from gracing your lips every time you are reminded of the pain. Even in your sleep you try to wiggle and squirm from his lap. 

Of course there is another source of your constant squirming. A source that Neteyam finds his fingers dipping down to trace over as the base just barely peeks out of your tight pussy. 

This plug is much larger than the cute one you had stowed away in your old nightstand drawer. It had taken more than a fair amount of encouragement to slot that thick piece of plastic inside your cunt but the sight was magnificent. Complain all you want but the way your walls clench around it in desperation tells Neteyam more than he needs to know. 

It’s the largest size of his collection which means that tonight is the night. Tonight you will officially become his. Your pussy will soon forever have the imprint of his thick length inside of you, ruining you for any other man. Not that you would ever have the chance to be with another male outside of him again. Jared was the end of that line and the Olo’eyktan feels no hint of remorse for taking care of that pest.

Another flash of Lo’ak’s gaze.

Neteyam feels you stir when he lets out a deep sigh. However reluctant he is, it’s important to set his brother straight. Lo’ak has an overactive imagination after all and the last thing he would want is his little brother’s curiosity and desire becoming an interruption for the wondrous night the two of you are about to have. 

Those long lashes flutter open, throat caught on a sharp intake when he stands up and places you back onto the seat. Your dazed and confused look is one that Neteyam can’t help but coo at, the pad of his thumb running over your cheek. 

“Mawey, tiyawn [be calm, love]. I will be right back.” You’re already scrambling to your knees, finally keeping the weight off of your sore bum. “Be a good girl for me and stay put, yes?”

It’s a rhetorical question and one that he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before a kiss is placed on your hairline and the Olo’eyktan is parting the crowd. It’s obvious that there is a moment where you consider stopping him. You may be hell bent on never admitting it verbally but the other Na’vi put you on edge and being around him has become your one constant, a safety you can rely on. If not for his urgency Neteyam would take his time in teasing you on the matter. 

Your face always looks even more lovely with that deep shade of red, whether from anger or embarrassment or even both. 

Later, he reminds himself.  

The female rubbing up against Lo’ak looks more than put out by his lagged reciprocation. Her displeasure colors into slight shock when she spots her Olo’eyktan coming straight towards them. Lo’ak crosses his arms as his partner quickly signs the proper respect to their leader. Neteyam dismisses her easily. 

“Excuse me, sister. I require a moment with my brother.” Neteyam ushers Lo’ak away from the scene before giving her a chance to respond or offer to give them privacy. 

The fire’s light now just barely humming over their skin. The two brothers find a moment of solace on the outskirts of the celebration. Neteyam’s ears still buzz from the sensory overload it has taken for the past few hours. 

“If you’re going to ask me for another favor can it at least wait until tomorrow? There is a party, you know.” Lo’ak tall frame lazily leans against the nearest tree and he attempts to hide the way his eyes fly over Neteyam’s shoulder towards you by making a show of tying his hair back. 

“Funny considering how eager you were to grant me a favor earlier this morning.” Neteyam’s veiny arms cross over his chest, tail whipping back and forth in the cool wind. If Lo’ak is intimidated he doesn’t show it. 

“Aren’t I a wonderful brother?” Those sharp teeth shimmer as he makes a show of giving an over the top sarcastic grin.

“Lo’ak.” Neteyam growls. 

“Jesus, calm down.” Lo’ak groans, head thrown back against the bark. “She’s still your little toy.” 

“I am not stupid, baby brother. I see the way you look at her.” 

“Whatever.” Lo’ak bristles and makes his way to stomp off but he is caught by the upper bicep. 

“I don’t want there to be any…confusion.” Silence spreads between them, the only sound being that of Lo’ak’s harsh exhale. 

“I was only watching.” He finally says, voice dropping lower. 

“And you are free to.” Small steps bring him further into his brother’s space. “But let’s be clear about whose permission you need in order to touch.” 

“And I didn’t.” His arm is ripped from Neteyam’s grasp. “I’ve only ever babysat the little brat and done all that you’ve asked of me. If you are looking for problems to address I would start with her running off at every given opportunity. Take a look for yourself!” He flails an exasperated arm in your direction but Neteyam doesn’t even bother to turn. 

“I am aware.” There is no need to look in order to know that you have once again tried your hand at another escape. He can see it in his mind’s eye now, your small body carefully hoisting itself down from the high throne. Panicked eyes racing over the crowd in search of any Na’vi that could potentially halt your actions. All that before short legs race off into the darkness. “I’m giving her a head start.” 

It’s best not to let you go too far. Eywa knows you are very skilled at finding new ways to put yourself in danger, but a little chase is an exhilarating experience. 

“Oh yeah, you going to make me chase after her for you too?” Lo’ak spits out, urging Neteyam to roll his eyes at his brother’s antics. He resists however, that wouldn’t be very becoming of the Olo’eyktan. 

“I fear you would enjoy that far too much, brother.”

Instead of fiery words shot back the only line of defense Lo’ak puts up is a scoff and frowned expression, golden eyes simmering with words that he knows better than to voice. Neteyam can give his brother credit for that at least. He knows when he is stomping on dangerous territory. You, on the other hand, seem to be learning that lesson far too slow. It seems a cute tawtute like you are more of a hands on learner. 

“Can I be excused then, oh might Olo’eyktan?” He flourishes with a sarcastic bow. 

“Leave.” Neteyam bites out simply, forcing his eyes to remain trained on his younger brother as he joins the crowd again. It’s a safety precaution just in case Lo’ak gets a bad idea even after warnings. Much to the Na’vi girl’s dismay Lo’ak does not join her again on the dance floor and instead heads straight towards the fermented fruit. No doubt he will spoil himself into a drunken state. Unfortunately for him, Neteyam already has his hands full babysitting you tonight. 

He takes his time, however, greeting a few of the clan members and partaking in a small dose of alcohol himself. With your small legs it will take you forever to get a distance that makes this chase even remotely fun. However, once the drink is empty and he has done his dues as Olo’eyktan in the social event Neteyam can no longer keep himself at bay. There are other creatures of the night that could be waiting to catch a pretty prey like you.

Tracking you down is almost laughably easy with your sweet scent wafting through the air. A scent that only grows tenfold when he comes across a peculiar piece of plastic stashed in a bush. It’s the dildo that is meant to still be snuggled up in your little cunt. 

A sharp smirk cuts into his features. 

For such a smart little thing you really can be so negligent at times. With the dildo out your scent now goes from a dulled perfume to a thick fragrance that coats the air. He recognizes that aroma, he knows the way it tastes. Your arousal has only made you an easier target and now you have done nothing but take out the one piece keeping it plugged. Neteyam can envision so clearly that trail of slick that is sure to be marking your thighs. 

Such a messy little thing you are. Even after the way he cleaned you up so dutifully post launch, you have managed to turn into a wet temptation once more. 

The small footprints along the dirt are almost pointless in his pursuit now that he has your scent. They only serve as a confirmation that he is going the right way. It doesn’t take long before the sound of your sharp panting reaches his upturned ears. It’s then that the Olo’eyktan takes to the trees. He glides along the thick branches without a sound, gaining a bird’s eye view of your desperate running. 

The full on sprint you started off with has come down to a clumsy jog. Even with your small stride he’s sure you could make it a lot further if you would simply stop looking over your shoulder every other second. An action that has you stumbling and grabbing your foot to pick out a thorn from the underside. Little curses rise between your harsh breaths. 

And then your breathing is cut all together. 

The sounds of claws and wild yips echo through the greenery. By the sounds of it Neteyam knows it must be a small pack of aynantang [viperwolves]. They aren’t close, at least not yet. With your back turned and eyes blown out in silent terror he decides that now is as good a time as ever to interrupt. 

Neteyam lowers himself down slowly, muscular arms controlling his descent into a movement so smooth and silent that it is nothing more than a shadow. A shaky hand covers your lips, the little puff of your beating heart pushing your chest out even more. One long step forward and now he can watch your trembling from above, his toes almost touching your muddy heels. 

“Their bite is not as sharp as mine, pet.” 

You scream before the sound can be stopped, spinning so fast your heel that you land directly on your red bum instead. Even without glowing tanhi dotting your skin, those dilated eyes have a way of making you glow in the night. Even more so when they dazzle up at him with unleashed fear and vulnerability. 

You scramble backwards, clawing at the muddy ground until you are clumsily trying to crawl back onto your feet. Fine by him, it’s easier to close the height difference when you are back to standing. He grabs your right arms easily, pulling you back against him. The fight continues as you turn to bash your first against his abdomen, even clawing at his thighs but then another sound cuts you off again. 

They are closer this time.

“They hunt in packs.” Neteyam informs you. “Circle their prey until there is nowhere left to go.”

A rustle of bushes to the left has your squirming changing from running away to ducking behind Neteyam. He allows the action, sharp teeth peeking from his grin when he feels the way your soft fingers dig into his thighs. 

“My father was almost killed by a pack once. Even in his avatar form he depended on my mother’s mercy to fight the creatures off.” You shake like a leaf in the wind, your face pressed against his lower back when the sounds get louder. He almost feels bad for scaring you so much, tempted to bundle you in his arms and shush your worries away. However, that would ruin the lesson. You are the one that decided to run off carelessly into the woods without him and now you need to understand why you depend on Neteyam for everything. Why you owe him your submission and affection. 

“I wonder how you would fair.” A few more wolves prowl from the bushes, inching closer. They creep forward with a hesitance at the sight of Neteyam, driven only by curiosity as your scent continues to fill the air. 

“Teyam.” You whimper into his hip, now latching onto the strap of his loincloth to urge him backwards. 

“What’s wrong, pet? I thought you wanted to be set free?”

A vicious snarl rip from the right and you stumble to cling to his left side now. That startled little scream is just barely muffled by the way your face is pressed into his hip. 

He coos at your little pleas. “Has someone changed their mind, hm?” Any other time you would be barring your blunt teeth at him but he knows that in the height of your fear there is no resistance left for him. You’re too focused on the prowling beasts that flash their own teeth in eclipse’s glow. 

“Teyam please, let’s go!” Voice caught on sobs that threaten to rise, you can barely make the words out. 

Your fear is palpable, but not just to him.The aynantang [viperwolves] can sense it too. They circle and watch with more confidence as the seconds roll by. Periodically they flicker up to his looming form, as if checking to see whether or not he will be a threat against their newfound meal. It would be easy to scare them off, something Neteyam has done himself many times. He’s hunted these forests since he was a boy and his own scent is something that the creatures have learned to associate with danger. 

Standing here now, however, he keeps a neutral position and one that the pack hesitantly takes as an opportunity to cinch closer. A flash of his knife and that confidence would disintegrate until the pack would scurry off into another corner of the forest. 

Neteyam keeps it sheathed. 

“You’re the one that ran off, little gift.” He reminds you, voice calm and cool. 

“I know! I know! I’m sorry j-just please!” 

“Please what, tiyawn? You have to be more specific.” 

You struggle to respond properly, hands frantically switching from tugs at the straps to clawing up at his arms. Regardless, Neteyam remains unmoved, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the scene with indifference. “Please..please don’t let them-” You gasp rearing back when you spot another viperwolf emerging from the left. It’s been there for a while but it appears this is the first time your weak eyes have caught sight of it. “I’m sorry! I’ve changed my mind! Please, I’m sorry.” You cry out in a shrill voice, plastering yourself under his arm. 

“Changed your mind on what?” It’s tempting to look down and see the way you so desperately seek his comfort but Neteyam is wise enough to keep his golden gaze sharply pinned on the emerging creatures. 

“On wanting to leave! You can take me home just please-”

“Oh can I?” Your chin is snatched between two fingers, forcing you to crane your neck up towards him. That mask of indifference is gone, replaced only  by a fierce stirness you are terrified to be facing twice in one day. “And what makes you think that is up to you?”

It’s hard to look into your eyes directly when they are bouncing wildly in every which direction. Perhaps it is your pitiful way of tracking the oncoming predators, or maybe you simply can not handle facing his gaze filled with ire. Either way, it is adorable to watch your natural submissive nature emerge. And all from a few viperwolves. 

Poor thing, what would you do without him?

“I-I’m sorry.” You say, voice so small and timid that only a Na’vi would have hopes of hearing it. Neteyam’s chest rumbles with a deep purr, other hand finally coming up to run through your hair.

“I know you are, tiyawn. You just get confused sometimes, don’t you?” No response is given, instead just a gasp as another creature inches closer and you dash into his arms. This time he wraps one arm around your small frame while the other goes for his sheathed knife. The advance pauses, aynantang  [viperwolves] pacing from side to side instead. Your reaction is premature but Neteyam basks in it all the same.

From the heated breath and salty tears painting his lower stomach he begins to worry that your fragile body will soon give out and lose consciousness. Keeping you tucked under his arm is the best move, easily accessible for when he needs to scoop you up without retaliation. However at this point, it seems that you are willing to do whatever it takes to earn his protection.

What a short memory you truly have. Perhaps if you listened to him more diligently like a good pet should then you would already know that his protection has been yours since the first time he saw you. He would defend you to his very last breath. Whether or not you asked for it would be irrelevant. That being said, you’ve always had the sweetest way of begging so who is he to deny himself such a pretty chorus of promises. 

They flow now freely from your lips. Pleading, crying, and begging for him to get you out of harm's way. He simply shushes you, making no rush as a rigid arm tightens to pull you even closer. 

The creatures are scared off within the first few hisses that leave his lips. Knife dancing under the moonlight with a deadly promise, they yip away reluctantly. Still, there is an advantage to not letting you know how easy it truly is to scare them off so he tells you to look away, to keep snuggled against him where they can not so easily see your fear. 

You remain that way when you are lifted into his arms. Your thighs strain to wrap around his ribcage but you eventually manage to lock your ankles together. With your shaky limbs locked in terror you are barely in need of his supporting arm, but he wraps one under your rear anyways. You remind him of a small syaksyuk [Prolemuris] as you cling with fervor, lighting his amusement to new heights. 

The walk back is pleasant, even when your shaking doesn’t stop and your racing heart beat is louder than the stomp of his feet. There is still great peace to be found with you in his arms and the promise of a wonderful night in the air. After tonight you won’t dare to leave him, not now that you have developed a healthy sense of fear and even more so once your body has taken him fully the way it was meant to. 

He holds back a groan at the thought. Your smell is still just as potent as when you first ran and now it holds an extra tang of emotion that makes it all that much sweeter. He manages to pick up the tossed aside dildo on the way back, but that acts as fuel to the flames. 

He has sought after your true mating for months and now that he is on the cusp of finally making it a reality it is hard to keep a rational mind. The natural urge to pin you down and take what has always been his morphs into a feral urgency that infringes on his thoughts. Although, he is determined to take his time tonight because it is isn’t enough to simply fuck you into the ground or find pleasure in that first stretch. No, tonight is about claiming you in every way possible. 

About teaching not only your body but your mind that there is no one else it belongs to. No one else that can provide for you in the way he can. Utter and complete submission is his goal. But to get you there, that will take skillful maneuvering and coercion. Otherwise it would not be a quest worthy of his time or attention. 

However, there is still one more way he can lock you into his life. One permanent reminder that would forever keep you shackled to him. An action that would have your scent intertwined with his so much so that it wouldn’t matter if it took. Pregnant or not the message would be clear. The confines of his loincloth feel suffocating at the thought. Would your tiny pussy even be able to hold half of his seed? What a pretty treat it would be to see it spilling out from your perfectly pink and tight hole. 

Pace now quickened, nothing can take away his laser focus. Not even Lo’ak’s obvious staring as you are carried swiftly along the outer edges of the celebration. Nor Spider who tries to run across the crowd and apologize again. Neither make it to him because all that he can feel is the warmth of your softy body. The pulse of your heart. The essence that is entirely yours, filling his lungs. 

Once back in the safety of his kelku [home/house] you are smart enough to not flee from his lap. He manhandles one leg to be thrown to the other side so you are properly straddling him. A sense of shyness must fall over you because you are silent while nervously fiddling with the feathers of his traditional attire. Or maybe you are still too shaken up over the little viperwolf incident to do much else. 

Neteyam is unbothered by it, instead using it as an opportunity to let his hands explore. Not in a sexual way at first, just simple brushes that are sure to have you melting for him.

“Now you understand why you must stay by my side. Don’t you pet?” Voice as gentle as the hands that run up the back of your neck, he can feel goosebumps rise in its wake. Eyes still fixated on the feathers, you nod shakily. If it wasn’t so cute he would be tempted to reprimand you for such a half hearted response but it appears luck is in your favor. 

His knuckles paint a trail up the back of your neck before swiping over your left shoulder. His other hand softly gathers your hair to the other side so your skin is bared for him. He thumbs at the side of your throat, feeling your pulse flicker beneath his fingers. 

“Such a pretty thing like you is not safe out there.” His hands bracket either side of your face, large enough to span the entirety of your head and tilt it upwards. It gives him the perfect view of your expression when both hands smooth up towards your hairline before parting and dragging along your scalp. Lips parted and eyes fluttered closed, he knows he has pressed the right button. 

“Creatures eager to snatch you up.” Neteyam draws out, nails ever so gently scratching along your roots. The shiver that races through your body is powerful enough to be visual. Massaging at the area in long strokes proves to have you breaking into pieces. Body practically limp against him, the Olo’eyktan watches with glee. 

No wonder Sky People are too soft for this world, all it takes to disarm you is some well placed pets. 

“And they’d be successful too,” The tips of his fingers come together to circle your hair into a ponytail. A small sound exhales from your lips, leaning into his touch without resolve. “Have you between their teeth before you could even scream.” That dark tone washes over you in a way so contrary to the warning message, his lips mere centimeters away from your own. 

One little kiss, more of a peck really. That is all you get. Just enough to have you chasing after him, a motion that is hard to do when he has you anchored by the root of your hair. 

“And that,” Another soft peck to your cheek, “is why you are so lucky to have me.” Neteyam allows his lips to linger longer this time but it’s still just as soft, almost more of a whisper than anything else and with the way you are trapped, there is nothing for you to do but take it. The noise that catches in your throat proves it is far from the passionate affection you desire. 

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes Teyam.” You puff, the softest whisper as you try to learn forward for more. He tutts in disapproval, a slow but firm yank to your hair following. “Y-yes Olo’eyktan.” You correct yourself with a squeak and much to his delight, the fragrance from between your thighs intensifies. He’s tempted to look now and see if it has left a spot on his loincloth. 

“There’s my good girl.” He grins and finally you are rewarded with his lips capturing yours. Although slow and tender in movement the heat of the kiss is all consuming, spreading a message that can only reflect his complete control over you. Several times you try to squirm or wiggle but the hand embedded in your hair shackles you into place. 

Unlike most times you become a fidgeting little thing, it’s clear that your efforts are to get closer, not further away. Neteyam is a nice man after all and so he indulges that desire. At least to a degree. He kisses you until you’re gasping for breath. He kisses you until slick is seeping through your mini loincloth. And he kisses you until those soft little lips are ruby red and chapped from the harsh treatment. 

It doesn’t matter to you, that much is clear by the way you whimper once he pulls away. 

“Don’t be greedy.” He smirks against your cheek.

Your greed only intensifies when he slips one hand down to untie your loincloth. His other hand remains embedded in your hair as a leash, one that proves necessary as you are eager to rut up against him. Perhaps he would feel guilty for the way you blush in shame after another tug to your hair. That is, if your reactions weren’t so delightfully endearing. 

For reasons mysterious to him, humans have a habit of going against their natural needs. You are not exempt from this issue as you are constantly trying to deny your desire for him, even deny yourself the pleasure you so clearly require. It’s fortunate that you have him to override those silly concerns. And override them he does, quite easily since your body reacts like a live wire every time he is near. The smallest of touches have you aching for more.

Eywa has blessed him with such a responsive little pet and he has every intention of exploiting that sensitivity until you are screeching for him to stop. 

Small hands come to dig into his feathered mantle as he idly explores the curves of your stomach. He traces up until reaching the sparkling gems of your top. With two little flicks your hardened nipples are bared for him. 

It’s a rare experience to have you so cooperative as he bites and sucks at those little peaks. The emotions of that day have softened your resolve, a pattern that Neteyam makes a mental note of. 

He tunes into every sensation of satin skin beneath his fingertips. Atop his thighs. Prickling beneath his lips. Like a flower you blossom for him so exquisitely. Revealing petals that are just for him. Melodic whimpers that only he has the pleasure of inducing. The irritation of Lo’ak’s infatuation fades to the background with you so pliant in his arms. 

You are quickly driven to madness, or at least is how you plead when he continues to trace, worship and tease your small body. Neteyam is anxious too. His hard member presses painfully against the fabric of his tewng. However, being the first born son has taught him something that you very rarely exhibit: patience. The fruits of your labors are tenfold more exhilarating once following a period of yearning. 

And you yearn for him, little gift. So much so that your dramatic begging has him holding back a deep chuckle. 

A river of nectar flowing down your thighs, you act as if you will pitter into dust if not satisfied. 

It will be fun training you. Making you learn to sit patiently like a good pet when that inferno of fire burns deep within you. He can devise a plethora of creative punishments for when you inevitably step out of line. Neteyam looks forward to the long process. He wouldn’t want to succeed too quickly and cut the fun short.

Luckily your spit fire attitude is sure to draw it out, keeping him entertained and challenged for a long time. 

The reasoning is only further confirmed when he catches you sneaking a tiny hand between your legs. The grip in your hair finally releases only for him to sharply smack away your attempt. 

“Did I say you could do that?” 

You’re exasperated, pleading eyes staring up at him as a drawn out groan comes from your lips. 

“Well are you planning to tease me all night or actually do something?” 

You’re pinned onto your back in a heartbeat, this time his right hand curled around your throat instead of your hair. It may not be firm enough to cut off your airway but the oxygen in your lungs freezes all the same. 

“Oeyӓ tiyawn I have greater plans for my pussy than using your pathetic little fingers.” He growls into your ear, watching as you are too frozen in shock to bother struggling. “Because by the end of tonight it will be filled with my seed.” 

Your throat bobs with a thick gulp, stuttered words struggling to come forth but a tad more pressure against your pulse earns your silence. And to his fascination, your eyes roll back into your head. Fight it all you want, but it’s clear you have always thrived off of his domination. This power imbalance is one that you need. Satisfying that deeply locked away drive you have to be loved, pampered, controlled, and absolutely ruined.

Just in the way only he can deliver. 

Squeeze any tighter and his fingers might just lose circulation. Regardless, the dildos have done their job effectively and now you are more than ready to take him. It was always going to be a tight fit, but at least there is little risk of real injury due to his preparations. 

You appear less convinced on that matter when his unoccupied hand roughly tugs off his tewng. Wide eyes stare down to where his full length lays along your stomach. He has to admit that in a position like this the size difference does become ever more staggering but he has every faith in you. 

“Neteyam please,” You whimper, shiny eyes staring up at him for mercy.

“Please what?” He hums. His fingers curl to massage that special spot inside while his thumb playfully runs over your clit. It has the desired effect, watching as your begging turns towards a different goal.

“Please let me cum! Need it! Neteyam please!”

Neteyam shushes you tenderly, relieving some of the pressure from you little button when he feels your cunt clench around him on the verge of an orgasm. You’ve never looked more beautiful than now, naked and spread across the little nest of blankets and pillows he arranged just for you. Long hair splayed out in every which direction and eyes already coated in a haze, it appears as if you have already been fucked dumb beneath him. 

“Patience, little gift. You will cum on my cock soon enough.” 

Your alarm flares up once more. 

“No Neteyam I can’t! It’s too big, it’s impossible-”

A large thumb presses over your lips to silence you. At this rate you are going to work yourself into hysterics and that would unravel all of the hard work he has done to get you here. A few more intentional circles on your clit has those protests flying out the door. It’s clear you require his help to stay calm and compliant the way you are meant to. The Olo’eyktan doesn’t mind aiding.

Your chest rises and falls dramatically as you melt under the pleasure. And when his three fingers are replaced with the head of his cock lining up, you hardly even notice. As long as that little bundle of nerves is being stimulated, you are hyper focused on seeing out that ecstasy to a finish. 

A soft kiss dampens your screech when he slots in just the tip. Already his mind swirls from the sensation but Neteyam manages to reign in his focus. Little ‘no’ s and pleas fall from your lips to caress his. 

“Mawey, oeyӓ tiyawn [be calm, my love]. You are being so good for me.” Another inch and it feels as if his own knees are about to crumble from how tightly you cinch around him. Small hands fists into the fabric below as your eyes squeeze shut. Neteyam shakily grasps one with his right hand, placing it along his shoulder that is now exposed with the feathered attire out of the way. “You can touch, little pet. Good girls deserve rewards.” 

With your face just barely reaching chest level the Olo’eyktan is forced to bend into an awkward position every time he goes to kiss away your tears, but it’s worth it. Those blunt little nails dig into his lower back. It’s a shame they aren’t strong enough to leave marks that he can cherish.

The air from his lungs are pushed out in a rush as he plunges ever so slightly deeper inside your sweet little pussy. You tense and cry beneath him, scratching as his back in haste. Although mere seconds away from popping his load far too early he still manages to reach down and play with your poor little cunt until more of that sweet essence is trailing out. 

“You need to relax for me, pet.” Neteyam grits, tail curling erratically. “Going to suffocate my cock like this, little one.” And it’s true because in all of his years of sexual maturity not once has he ever felt a pussy so tight, so responsive, wrapped around him. It drives him to the point of insanity. It takes every last bit of resolve he has left to not shove the rest of himself inside and plow you into the floor. 

But Neteyam knows better than to break his toys. 

The next few minutes test his mental and physical stamina over and over as you slowly take him inch by inch. Every slow push of his hips causes a domino effect of tears and incoherent cries from your sweet lips. He kisses and soothes and pleasures your trembling body until you’ve learned to relax again. Only to then restart the cycle when you take one inch more. 

However, nothing prepares him for the end result. No amount of dreaming or training could ever have done the sight justice as he sees the  way your soft belly bulges when he reaches the hilt. The shape of him is clearly visible, twitching so deep inside of you that it threatens to drive both of you into sensation overload. 

The groan that rumbles from his throat is one that you have never heard before. So rough and unleashed that your glittering eyes dilate in response. It’s still painful, that much he can see from the look on your face. So despite every instinct in him screaming to ruin your little pussy until it can take no more, Neteyam remains in place. 

Your swollen nub is red from his sensual play, nipples not far behind as he laps and kisses them like they are the last meal he will ever have. That beautiful blush now heats down your neck and torso, as if tempting him to continual his oral fixation. It accentuates most importantly that bulge of your stomach until he can’t help himself anymore, large hand spanning over your tummy to press on that area lightly. 

“Can you feel me, tiyawn? Right here?” He presses again, your mouth opening in a silent scream. “Taking me so deep, pet. My good girl.” 

 And it’s then that it feels as if something has clicked. Your bodies becomes attuned to one another. Burning stretch morphs into something otherworldly, those soft features finally unscrewing into fluttering bliss. And he draws out ever so slightly to rut back in, your head falls back against the pillows. 

He’s waited long enough. Pinned long enough. Crawled after you long enough. Now all that his body can do is take what you so freely give him. His hips snap forward without restrain, spurred on by the little sounds that pulse in the back of your throat. Little fingers scatter between gripping his muscular back and tangling into his braids. 

The heat that travels from his ears to toes is so intense that it feels as if he may burst into an inferno. And he truly might, little gift. With the way you hug his cock so snuggly as if you never want to let it go, you may simply kill him. He would be happy to go that way. To leave this world drowning in the bliss of your destined union. 

And for once in his life, Neteyam lets himself fully go. He chases that peak with fervent desperation. He drinks in every reaction you have to give him. And when the pleasure becomes all too much for you to take. When you grapple to crawl away from him and the mind shattering climax that is around the corner, he pulls you back down with a hiss. 

“No more running, pet.” He commands, a growl emanating so deeply from his chest that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. He hoists your left leg around his waist, effectively changing the angle to thrust in deeper. 

“Neteyam!” A screech like sweet honey from your lips as you finally tip over the edge. Body trembling so hard it takes that firm grip on your leg to keep it there, you crumble beneath him. His stamina is far from being drained as he rides you through it. Every wave of pleasure is stronger than a drug, leading him to cloud nine until he no longer wants to be anywhere else. 

“T-too much.” You gasp for air but your body is already succumbing to the onslaught. He can feel the way you are ramping up again. This is far from being over. 

“Give in.” Neteyam coos but the ring of that command is clear. There is no other option. That is the way it has always been because from the very beginning you have always been his. And sooner or later Eywa knew that the two of you would be here together, trapped in his love where you belong. 

“Oh God!” You cry out, body sliding up the floor with every thrust. 

Whether you find his queue by accident or on purpose is unclear but that first tug is enough to have his balls drawing up against his body, bracing to fly into bliss. There is a sticky mess between the two of you, slick enough to have those wet sounds filling the night air. Neteyam runs the flat of his nose over your sweaty temple and curve of your cheek. 

“My little gift.” He purrs, body on the brink of rupturing. He says it more for himself than you but is more than pleased to watch the way your eyes flutter close as the sound. Trembling, squeezing, and shattering around him, those are the moments your reserve of denial dries up.

That’s how it has always been. From the first night that he brought you home, tucked under his arm, you’ve had this other side that can be taunted out. Even that night as you had pleaded to be released only to have the gag put back in, his tongue had driven you to stillness. Your screaming of kidnapping had sizzled into a series of moans and ecstatic exclamations. 

There’s another side to him too.

The part of him that can finally bask in the one thing he has wanted for months. The part of him that yearns for reprieve day in and day out. The part that demands for rest- for freedom. 

Now he can finally surrender himself to the magic that the two of you create. To the sparkle that runs down your cheeks. To the sensation of being embraced so tightly by your little pussy. To the way his name has never sounded better from anyone else’s lips. Eywa has finally given him this gift, his sanctuary from every other pressure bestowed upon him. 

And now nothing is going to take it away from him.

Nothing will ever take you away.

Those are the thoughts that coerce his primal nature forward. The same that ramp the fire of his tongue demanding more from you. Pushing you further, harder, deeper. 

“You won’t let any spill out, will you pet?” He spits between grunts. 

“I-I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” More of a chant on loop than anything else. One day you will beg properly. You will cry for his seed, for his babies. You won’t question whether or not pregnancy is possible as he fills your womb with his mark. 

You will wear that little bow on your neck with pride.

Neteyam forces his eyes open at the precipice. Even as his body convulses and cock pulses rampantly while painting your insides white, he won’t allow himself to miss a single moment. That imprint of your expression as he finally claims you past the point of return will stay with him. The drawn in gasp that is sucked in from your red lips when you feel that warmth will be what keeps him going on day after day. Major to minor details of tonight will be his soundtrack to perfection as he pushes himself to be the best Olo’eyktan possible. 

And when the day has worn him to the bone and those day dreams are not enough, there you will be. Waiting for him oh so sweetly. 

“I want to sleep.”

Your muffled whine coaxes a chuckle from the Olo’eyktan.

“Then sleep.” He responds, only looking up from your spread legs for a second. So peaceful and sweet you are now, almost drowned in the hammock’s blankets and pillows. The picture of innocence and beauty only to then trail his eyes lower and find the evidence of his primal claim. His bioluminescent seed paints your weeping folds and inner thighs. A new spurt erupts from your still clenching hole only for him to push it back inside with his thumb again. 

It won’t make much of a difference. There is no way your small body could ever truly hold all of it but that doesn’t stop him from teasing you all the same. 

“Looks like this little pussy will need training to savor my seed properly after all.” 

Eyes still closed you let out a groan, trying to rip your thighs from his fingers. You remain trapped as exhaustion finally overcomes you, only a small incoherent curse from your tongue before passing out. 

Neteyam grins, reaching up to straighten the little pink bow around your throat. 

Please don't be shy. Hearing your thoughts and reactions is what helps fuel my drive to keep posting. Love you, pookies<3

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I know there are people I probably missed. It's getting harder and harder to keep track of this taglist so don't be offended if you aren't on there. Also, a good portion of these aren't linking properly so check to see if I have entered it in correctly and if so, you might want to look into your account.

Broke:

Belle has Stockholm syndrome because she falls in love with the Beast, her kidnapper.

Woke:

Stockholm syndrome was coined to slander a woman who had been in a hostage situation but openly criticized the poor police response which recklessly put her in more danger and escalated the violence. She was then belittled and discredited publically by the police for this.

So. Yeah. Maybe Belle does have Stockholm syndrome actually.

Ok so we get itafushi, we get miwamaru, etc. in this page. It seems to be telling of relationships.

And Ui Ui / Mei Mei...

Ui Ui's arm - it looks like he's trying to break away from someone. Higuruma? Is Ui Ui... Struggling w the complicated messy feelings that arise when you begin to accept that you've been abused, but it's so hard when you've been groomed for so long and you don't want to face that reality?

Mei is on the opposite side of the page. She and her brother could not be further apart. Her eyes are closed, and she's smiling the way she does when exploiting people for money. Maybe her subscription service ambition was given to Mei as a distraction - to focus on that instead of exploiting her brother.

Maybe we didn't need Geto to come back to life and kill her - I really overlooked Hiromi and his sense of justice, haven't I? Mei probably thinks that she can get out of any scandal, as long as she has money. She isn't facing anyone, and no one is looking at her. Shoko is looking up at nothing, pretending she isn't there.

It looks like Hiromi's also facing Gakuganji - he's keeping watch over jujutsu headquarters and the victims. I love him so much. Looking back now, Hiromi rly is the next generation Geto - protecting the innocent without discriminating. Oh, you're in a position of power to exploit the weak? He'll kill you anyway. Good luck.

Also shokohime seems like.... There? Shoko's looking off in the distance like she's happy, waiting and giving privacy. She's facing Utahime, whose arm is reached out toward Shoko and to her student that she has to worry about first.

Idk what's up with Ino, or if Inumaki is looking at the reader.

And who are the two people in the back, that you can't rly see? Thought one was Todo but he's already on there. (edit: my friend says one is Hajime Kashimo, & they're right. I guess the other is Haibara, or maybe the sugar CT guy... Oh god is the jacket most like Junpei's?) Though it could just mean there are more strong and intelligent allies than we know.

Here's my reaction to the end of the manga btw (forgot this page was part of 271 smh)

ᶠᵘⁿᵍᵃˡᵉᵃʳᵗʰˡⁱⁿᵍ

I got that dog in me (The dog is Stockholm syndrome when my old abusive ex from years ago tries to come back into my life)

Put the dog down

Whumpee lines #1

“I-I’ll be good next time. I promise.”

“Yes, S-Sir. I’ve been bad.”

“Nghnn. It hurts…”

“Get off me!”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I-I’m tired.”

“I deserve to be punished.”

“I love you.”

“You have taken better care of me than anyone else, Sir.”

“I feel alone.”

“I feel broken.”

“Yes, Master.”

“No more, p-please!”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Why me?”

“D-Don’t drink all of it!”

“Do you need to feed, Master?”

“I’m here for you.”

“Y-You’re scaring me…”

“No!”

“Y-Yes. Please! Uhm… Yes please, Sir.”

“I t-think that I might have caught a cold, S-Sir.”

Whumpee lines #2

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“This is all just a bad dream.”

“You’re insane.”

“Why would I just sit here and watch while you’re inflicting pain on me?”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“I’ll run away from you/I’ll escape.”

“Do you think that after everything I’ve been through, something like that would hurt me?”

“D-Don’t leave me!”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Y-You broke my nose…!”

“This can’t be happening.”

“I am your pet.”

“Karma will come for you.”

“Hurt me.”

“I-I’m yours, Master.”

“I-I can’t b-breathe!”

“Someone help me, please!”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“May I please go outside, Sir?”

“N-Not the knife!”

“You make me sick.”

“It’s okay, Master.”

“I’m begging you.”

Broke:

Belle has Stockholm syndrome because she falls in love with the Beast, her kidnapper.

Woke:

Stockholm syndrome was coined to slander a woman who had been in a hostage situation but openly criticized the poor police response which recklessly put her in more danger and escalated the violence. She was then belittled and discredited publically by the police for this.

So. Yeah. Maybe Belle does have Stockholm syndrome actually.

First thing you see after you zoom in is how you die

How you dying 👀

main ♡

follow my diary where i write poems, talk about my bpd, share my deepest thoughts & post random shit- join me!

tw : bpd, depression, SH, dissociation, derealization, depersonalization, paranoia, emotional/physical ab*se, bullying, drugs, trauma, traumacore, eating disorder

all love.

active 24/7

WOOOO YEAH FUCK ROWAN

Forever Be Mine, part 6

This one is pretty relaxed compared to the last few parts lol. Here's the masterlist!

CW: Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, mentions of torture/murder, implied noncon, intimate whumper

...

"Felicity? Can I ask you something?"

"Make it quick, I'm a little busy. If you need money, I can send you some later today."

"I'm not Griff. I was wondering if you had any... relationship advice?"

"And you called me out of all people?" Felicity snorted. "I'm too much of a workaholic to even consider love. As long as you haven't been stalking them, I'm sure you'll be fine." Rowan went silent. "Goddammit, Rowan. Again?"

Rowan wouldn't dare tell her he went even farther than just that. "He hates me. What do I do?"

"I don't know the guy, I don't know what he's into. Probably people not creeping on him," she huffed. "Give him something he likes--and not something you like that you want him to like. Not a hundred roses or some expensive brand of wine he's probably never heard of. Treat him like an actual human with thoughts and emotions and not some pampered pet. Just... be normal." There was talking in the background. "I gotta go. I think you'd have more luck asking Griffin about this."

As if, Rowan bitterly thought. Griffin's idea of romance was fast food and video games. "Fine. Talk to you later."

"Don't do anything stupid." And then she hung up.

Rowan sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at his ceiling. This entire time he had been forcing Sawyer to conform to his ideas of romance, so perhaps it was time to take some advice for once. He was desperate. Hopefully after this, Sawyer would see him for the perfect boyfriend he was, and come crawling into his arms with love and devotion.

An idea popped into his head.

Sawyer flinched when the shed door creaked open. Rowan knelt down, draping his large coat over his shivering form. He cut the rope and helped Sawyer into the warm coat.

"Let's get you inside, babydoll. You're ice-cold," Rowan murmured, holding Sawyer's hand and walking him inside the cabin.

Rowan brought him to the bathroom, and to Sawyer's shock, left him alone to his own devices. Sawyer turned on the bathtub's tap, waiting until the water was steaming. He slowly sunk into it. It was heaven compared to the freezing temperature he was kept at in the shed. He sunk lower until only his eyes were peeking over the water level.

Once he was warmed up, his mind wandered to Rowan's behavior. Despite not knowing him for long, he figured the first thing his captor would do would be to ramble and insist on giving him zero personal space.

Did he grow tired of him? Did this mean he'd let him go? Or...

Sawyer shook his head. He tried not to think too hard about it and washed himself as fast as possible. When he was done, he climbed out and dried off, finding a pair of neatly folded clothes on the counter. He put them over his aching limbs, just a normal t-shirt and sweatpants. He exited the bathroom to find Rowan waiting for him, holding a bowl of what he assumed was tomato basil soup.

"How was your bath?" Rowan asked, motioning to the couch. Sawyer obeyed and sat down beside him.

"Nice. Thanks," Sawyer whispered.

"Here. You must be hungry." He took the bowl from Rowan and held it close, letting the heat warm him up. "Eat up." He picked up the spoon and dipped it into the red liquid. The spoon was trembling in his hand.

Rowan didn't miss it, because of course he didn't. "Do you want me to feed you?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No. I got it." He didn't, but there was no way he was going to be coddled even more by his kidnapper. He ignored Rowan's burning gaze on him and he ate the soup in small bites. He couldn't understand Rowan, nor did he really want to. All he could do was keep him happy enough so he didn't end up back in that awful shed. He offered his empty bowl. "Thanks."

He smiled and took it. "You're welcome. Stay right there, I got you a present!"

If he had learnt anything about Rowan these past few weeks, it was that his gifts sucked. Sawyer never wanted to look at expensive jewelry or roses ever again. He wondered what horrible gift he was going to receive now. Probably a collar, at this point.

Rowan came back holding something small in his arms. Sawyer curiously stood up to get a better look at it, just to see a small white cat curled up in his arms. Sawyer froze. Rowan approached him with a huge smile on his face.

"What..." Sawyer could barely speak, his hand reached out to the cat, who happily rubbed his face on his palm. "What did you do?"

"I knew you liked cats, and even though I'm not the most fond of animals, love is about making sacrifices. And before you say anything, I didn't buy him from a breeder." He handed the tiny fluff ball to Sawyer. "He had previous owners who got rid of him because he's deaf, or so that's what the shelter said. He's perfectly healthy."

Sawyer looked at him then at the cat. "You're giving me a cat?"

"Yes! Don't you love him?" Sawyer nodded. "See? I'm a good partner!" Rowan smiled proudly.

If Sawyer weren't so distracted by the cat in his arms, he would've scoffed. Instead, he cradled the furball to his chest. "What's his name?"

"Whatever you want it to be, my love."

He frowned and rubbed a finger between the kitten's eyes. "Casper." He still hated Rowan's guts, and he felt anxious now that a cat was in this fucked up situation, but it was hard to be mad at him right now. He was a sucker for cute things, and this fluffy creature was purring contentedly in his hold. He almost forgot that this whole scenario was forced upon him by Rowan. Almost.

Rowan placed his hands on Sawyer's waist, but didn't push things any further. He leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Do you like him?"

Sawyer didn't want to be too thankful, lest Rowan got ideas that he owed him something. Besides that, he still hated his guts. "Yeah. He's cute." He hugged Casper a little closer to him.

"I knew you'd love him!" Rowan beamed. "Now that I have your approval, I'll get some toys for him. I already got food and a litter box. Anything specific you want for him? I've never owned any animals, so I don't know much about taking care of one." He sheepishly smiled. "Maybe a collar and a bed for him? I'll let you pick them out, and I can pick them up from the store."

"Uh, yeah, a collar, and a bed would be great. Thank you," Sawyer mumbled, still hugging the cat tightly. "And maybe a scratching post."

He didn't like the happy expression on Rowan's face, the bastard didn't deserve to be pleased, but he couldn't help himself when a soft cat was purring in his arms. He always wanted a cat, but due to money being tight, he never wanted to bring another living creature into his shitty living situation.

And even now he didn't, because it was somehow worse... but it'd be nice for someone other than Rowan to keep him company. It was selfish, he knew, but he was so lonely here that he was willing to subject a cat to Rowan.

"What is your ideal date?" Rowan's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Not with you."

"Sawyer," Rowan warned. He placed his hand on Sawyer's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

He sighed. "I dunno. I haven't been on many dates. An aquarium sounds cute, but I know that'd be too public for you, right?" It was meant as a sarcastic jab, but Rowan took it genuine and nodded. Sawyer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I like ice skating, but I guess that's also not your type of scene. Whatever, doesn't matter anyway. I'm gonna go to bed."

Rowan watched the man walk off with Casper still in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

...

"What's this?"

"A lake to skate on! I made sure it was thick enough to walk on without breaking. And after this, we can have some hot cocoa and a nice cuddle session by the fire."

"Uh... that's... cool." Sawyer scratched the back of his neck. "I guess. But uh... why?"

"Because you wanted to go ice skating. And since a public skating rink would be trouble, I decided this would do. Again, I made sure it's safe, so don't worry your pretty little head about that." Rowan booped Sawyer's nose. "I ordered us some ice skates too, of course." He grabbed two pairs of black ice skates from the car's trunk. He led him to a log, brushing off the snow, and then gestured for Sawyer to sit.

Sawyer did so, albeit reluctantly. He watched Rowan kneel to slide his shoes off and replace them with the skates. It got harder to resist the urge to kick him when Rowan pressed a kiss to his ankle as he laced up the boots for him.

As Rowan put on his own pair, Sawyer got curious. "Have you ever ice skated before?"

"Well... no, but it can't be that hard, right? How different could it be from roller-skating?" Sawyer chuckled at his ignorance. Oh, he'd have fun watching him tumble around. "I'm excited to try it with you." He pulled Sawyer up, walking awkwardly to the frozen lake. "Just... hold onto me so you don't fall," Rowan advised, intertwining their gloved fingers.

Sawyer didn't know why he didn't pull away. "Alright," he agreed, his other hand clutching onto Rowan's arm.

Rowan stepped onto the ice, wobbling slightly. "Oh, okay, that's a bit harder than I expected." He slid his feet forwards, pulling Sawyer with him. "You're doing okay, right?"

He couldn't help but grin. "Yeah." Rowan looked ridiculous with his lanky limbs sprawled everywhere and his ungraceful movements. It was the funniest thing Sawyer had witnessed in a long while. "Having fun?"

"Oh, yeah, a blast." He slipped and nearly fell, catching himself with his hand on the ground. Sawyer covered his mouth, muffling his laughter. Rowan glared up at him. "Okay, okay, laugh it up. You have a clear advantage over me here." He pushed himself back up to stand. "Help me." Sawyer obliged, extending his hand to Rowan. "How did you even get so good at this?"

Sawyer pulled him up. "Ice skating was a huge hobby of mine when I was a kid. My parents wanted me to do hockey, the more 'manly' sport, but I liked figure skating. They eventually just gave up."

"Do you still ice skate? I don't recall ever seeing you go to any skating rinks..."

Right when Sawyer was starting to relax, he was reminded this man was insane. "I don't. I had to sell my skates when I went broke." He bit his tongue. He hated telling people personal information, let alone people like this. But there wasn't much he could do about it now. He couldn't afford to upset Rowan anymore. He didn't want to be punished again, and he definitely didn't want to be thrown in that godforsaken shed.

He didn't want to see that ever again. Crazy how that was less than a day ago, and now Rowan had the gall to act like none of that happened.

"That's a shame. I bet you looked lovely on the ice." He kissed his forehead. "Well, whenever you like, we always have this area to skate together. At least until it starts melting." Rowan chuckled and moved his legs like a newborn deer attempting to stand. He had fallen again, but he managed to catch himself in time.

A sadistic part of Sawyer sparked whenever he saw Rowan stumble around like an idiot. It felt nice seeing him being the one out of his element, considering everything else he'd put him through. He couldn't help but take enjoyment from the rare opportunity of seeing the usually overly-confident and arrogant Rowan in an uncomfortable position.

Soon enough they both grew tired (aka Rowan was done embarrassing himself) and retreated to the cabin.

Rowan sat Sawyer down and prepared a cup of hot chocolate for him, adding some marshmallows and whipped cream on top. He set it on the coffee table and grabbed a blanket from the couch to drape it over Sawyer. Casper settled on Sawyer's lap and purred loudly, seeking pets.

Sawyer took the mug and blew on it. "Thank you," he mumbled before drinking some of the warm liquid.

"No problem, sweetheart." He sat on the couch next to him and placed his hand on his thigh. Sawyer looked down at it but didn't move away. "How was it?"

"How was what?"

"Our date." Rowan squeezed his leg, thumb rubbing circles on the inside of his thigh. "You didn't say much."

"Well, I was busy laughing at you," Sawyer pointed out, continuing to drink his hot cocoa. He licked away some foam that clung to his lip. Rowan stared at him intently, almost hungrily. "But it was... fine." He paused. "I guess."

"That's it? I expected a little more from you. Especially considering everything I did for you," Rowan scolded, his tone dangerously low. His hand stopped moving and tightened on his leg. Sawyer shivered. "I bought you a fucking cat. I skated with you even though it's freezing out. I cooked your favorite meal. I held back from touching you when I desperately wanted to." He leaned closer. "And I get nothing but a 'fine'?"

"I thought this was to make up for looking me in a damn freezing shed, not to guilt me into kissing your ass," Sawyer replied bluntly.

Rowan scowled. "Don't get snippy with me."

His word choice made Sawyer snort. "Well, sorry I'm feeling 'snippy' after being stalked, kidnapped, branded, and watching you kill a man. Forgive me for not being in a stellar mood." Rowan stood up, and Casper jumped off his lap at the sudden movement. Sawyer realized he made a mistake and was quick to amend it. "I didn't mean it, please don't put me back there."

When Rowan went silent, opting to stare at him, Sawyer realized he wanted him to continue.

"I'm thankful for everything you've done for me... and I loved our date. I'm sorry I'm so nonchalant about everything, I haven't been in a healthy relationship in years. This is just new to me." Sawyer's lip wobbled, only at the thought of being placed in the freezing cold again.

Rowan folded his arms. "I understand that, but I've been so patient with you. I think I deserve something in return, don't I?"

Great, now Sawyer didn't know how to further manipulate himself out of this one. Then, an idea popped in his mind. He dramatically sighed. "I just wished you'd see me for more than sex."

That was all it took for Rowan to fall for his bait. "Sawyer," he began softly, his scowl turning into a concerned frown, "is that all you think I'm after from you?" Sawyer shrugged and averted his eyes, faking embarrassment. Rowan had already fallen for similar acts in the past, but when it came to Sawyer, all logic went out the window. "Oh, honey, that's not true. I don't just want your body, I want everything of yours. Your mind, body, and soul belongs to me, and I want to cherish it all. I don't know why you would ever think so low of me."

Sawyer lowered his head, fighting back a smirk. "Sorry. I'm sorry, it's just hard to believe that sometimes. I'm used to guys being like that."

"I'm not those types of men, my love."

"I know." Rowan was worse. "It's just... that's why I have a hard time showing I'm grateful for things. Because people have done so much for me in the past, just because they wanted a quick fuck." He took joy in seeing how guilty Rowan looked. Good. "So I'm sorry I've been so dismissive. I'll try to be more grateful."

"Oh, sweetheart." Rowan placed a hand on his cheek. "I'll prove it to you. That I'm not like those men. That I truly care about you, not just your body."

Sawyer wasn't buying any of it. But he had Rowan right where he wanted him. Rowan was eating out the palm of his hand, like an eager dog wanting attention. "How?"

"We can cuddle, and watch what ever you want." Rowan grabbed Sawyer's hands, running his thumbs over his knuckles. "I know I can be impatient sometimes when it comes to more... intimate activities, but I'll slow down. Whatever you need. Cuddling you and having your full attention is more than enough for me right now."

"Okay," Sawyer replied simply, making sure not to let his fake shyness slip. He didn't want to oversell this.

Yet the 'for now' didn't go unnoticed. Sawyer had no doubt Rowan would eventually expect more from him again. He just had to hope by then he could manage to escape without incident.

"Then it's a deal!" Rowan beamed. He practically dragged him to the bedroom, tossing Sawyer onto the mattress. "Sorry," Rowan chuckled. Sawyer had to admit, Rowan was incredibly strong, especially for a guy of his build. He easily lifted him and tossed him around like he was light as a feather. Sawyer hoped that wouldn't turn into something disturbing. "Scoot over a bit, I'm going to set up the movie."

Sawyer had to admit, being around Rowan wasn't as insufferable as it was before. Sure, he still despised him, but... when he wanted to, he could be sweet.

Well, as sweet as a manic kidnapper could be.

Rowan let Sawyer choose from the list of movies, to which he settled on a nostalgic 90's film. Rowan wasn't too interested in it, but if it made Sawyer happy, he was glad. He was too busy staring at Sawyer to actually pay attention to the screen. Sawyer was aware of this and refused to give Rowan the satisfaction of him meeting his gaze.

Rowan nuzzled his face into the crook of Sawyer's neck and wrapped an arm around his waist. He peppered kisses along his shoulder and collarbone. Sawyer remained tense under the affectionate touch, not allowing himself to enjoy it even in the slightest.

He tried not to be annoyed with Rowan constantly interrupting his viewing to shower him in attention, but he had a feeling this would happen.

"I'm surprised you're not into this movie," Sawyer muttered. "Do you not like nostalgic things?"

Rowan paused in his ministrations. "Hm? No, I do. I just didn't watch much TV as a child, so I don't know these films. I'm sure it's wonderful." He pressed a kiss to his pulse point. "I'd much rather focus on you anyway."

Sawyer suppressed a sigh of frustration. "Alright then."

Halfway through the movie, Casper hopped on the bed and flopped between Sawyer and Rowan. Sawyer cracked a smile and patted the bed to coax him closer, so he could pet him. Casper purred happily and headbutted Sawyer's hand.

Rowan was less happy. "This is our moment, can't he wait?" he whined.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "He's a cat, Rowan. He can't see what we're doing. He just wants cuddles."

"So do I!" Rowan exclaimed indignantly.

"You're such a child." Sawyer rolled his eyes, but still scooted closer to Rowan's side, just to shut him up. He leaned against Rowan's chest, keeping a hand on Casper's head to stroke him. He could feel Rowan grinning above him and he repressed the urge to shove him away in disgust. He focused on the screen in front of them, determined to ignore the arms wrapping around him possessively.

It still felt nice to relax for the first time since he had been kidnapped. Not that he was warming up to Rowan, surely not... Sawyer just appreciated having his nerves calmed after that horrible week he endured.

Before the ending credits finished rolling, Sawyer's eyelids grew heavy and he found himself dozing off, head resting against Rowan's chest. He heard Rowan's soft chuckling and a kiss being pressed against his hairline. He grumbled, too tired to care about the intimacy, and just sunk deeper against Rowan's warmth.

...

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

Love this song...

Apathetic-Misplaced

Rounding the corner, you treaded further into the kitchen, urging not to wake your mother. It was hard enough to get her to sleep, let alone keep her like that. Your toe stubbed slightly against the bottom of the kitchen counter as you reached for the cabinet with the mugs.

Oddly, as you searched for your favorite one, it seemed to be gone. Having been sure you put it up with the load of dishes you'd done yesterday, you checked once again, not doubting yourself to have missed it in the dim light the early winter mornings would provide. 

Looking back down, annoyed, you saw it. Resting a foot away, sat next to the sugar and spoon, was the mug, a teabag already placed inside. This week had been stressful, you chopped the appearance simply to a simply forgotten task. 

You smiled to yourself, taking the cup in your hand and heading to the stovetop. Placing the kettle on the heating burner, you waited patiently on your phone, scrolling, disinterested in what your friends had done over the weekend. 

Your heart clenched at a certain sight; it was a picture of Nina, a girl you thought would live forever. Alas, she's gone now. Not necessarily dead but missing. So, no matter how you look at it, she's gone. 

All you truly craved was closure. 

Resting your phone face down, you hopped up as the kettle began to scream. Pulling it from the burner, you placed it on a different one, waiting a still moment before beginning to pour the boiling water into the mug. 

After you did, you slowly sipped on the scalding liquid, tossing your head back as you mentally psyched yourself up to get through the day. It wouldn't be too bad, working at a little gas station, if you weren't fifteen miles from the musty place. 

You walked slowly to your bedroom, socks scuffling against the kitchen's hardwood floor. You slipped off the flimsy night shirt you'd been wearing changing into a new bra and shirt. Not much of a shirt, really, more like a big sweater. It was (f/c) and knit tightly. Black leggings to match, you supposed.

It was winter. You were behind a counter most of your day. Who cares what you wore? 

Going back into the kitchen, deciding you'd eat before work, meaning you didn't have to come out from behind the counter and be ogled at by creeps without morals. Yeah, it was better to eat at home.

Gliding on your shoes, you tied the laces up neatly. As you headed back into the kitchen, another odd sight struck you. The sugar had been returned to its spot; the spoon was in the sink. Knitting your eyebrows together, you figured, once again, that it was just a subconscious act of yours. 

I do this every morning, so it's routine of me to put it away, you told yourself. But as the morning's occurrences replayed, your mind went, instead, to worst-case scenarios. Once again, rationality got the better of you, and your mind decided you had forgotten; done it without a second thought. 

But you didn't remember the part where you forced yourself to keep quiet for your mother's sake. 

It was early, too early, to be awake for work. I mean, you worked nights. But groceries were a necessity, and starving wasn't on your mind lately. Not yet. Grabbing your wallet and phone, you were on your way out the door. 

Clambering into the cold car, you turned on the heat, but without time to waste, you drove off. You played a few songs on your way, preferring the familiar music to the silence. As you pulled up to the Walmart, you climbed out again. 

Opening the notes app on your phone, you checked the list again, unsure of what you needed. "Milk, eggs, butter, toilet paper, shampoo." you read. Nodding to yourself, you walked inside, grabbing a rattling cart from the hoard. First, you made your way to the dairy, grabbing the milk, eggs, and butter, and placing them in the bottom of the rattly cart.

Next, you walked to the aisles with all the hygiene products. Grabbing your usual brand of shampoo and toilet paper, you made your way to the checkout. At the register, you grabbed a pack of gum. Minute but nice. 

The man in front of you quickly had his minimal number of items scanned, but he didn't tread too far, visibly distracted by something on his yellow hoodie. He was tall, with disheveled light brown hair, and pale. very pale; he looked sickly. As the cashier scanned your items, the dead look on her face not softened, she read your total. "Fifteen-eighty-two," she mumbled. Opening your wallet, you searched in fear for your card.

As your mind began to whirl and sway, a voice spoke up. You only had so much cash on you; not enough to pay the due, however. Your shaky hand brought her the ten dollars you had in cash, but she continued staring at you, waiting. "I'll cover it," the man offered. "Oh, no. You don't have to-" you assured, quickly being cut off as he handed the cashier the exact change. 

"Thank you so much, sir," you thanked. "It's human kindness," he joked. "Still, thank you." you sighed, thankful. "Keep yourself safe," he said, walking away, off into the crowd of people, many shorter than him. He headed in the opposite direction that you were going, much to your disappointment.

It would have been nice to know his name, you thought. Dawdling around the flooded store, you glanced around, bored. You thought about how pale he was. Tired of ogling at items you'll never buy, or afford, you left.

You smiled to yourself at the sweet interaction, not having experienced a true act of human decency in so long. Living away from everyone in the countryside could do that to someone - make you a recluse-, but you didn't really mind. 

Striding back to your car, you placed your bags of groceries, finding yourself questionably searching for the man, even without realizing it. Turning over the ignition in the car, you drove off, pulling onto the foggy road. As the road cleared, leaving you nearly alone, aside from the few cabins and cars, you noticed one thing in particular: a beat-up, blue pickup truck behind you.

Its paint chipped, revealing the rusty color beneath the facade of color. The headlights were still on, which was fair, considering the fact it was dark, still. That's winter, you thought. Heart in your throat, you sped up, only to notice how their speed was in sync with yours; they sped as you did, and slowed as you did.

As you pulled into your driveway, breaths of relief flooded out of your lungs, watching as the truck drove on, the driver you didn't see. Silently entering the home, you brought in the bags, smiling still at the man's kindness. 

After you unpacked the groceries, you went to check on your mother once again. She was fine. Now, sleep was in your mind. Falling, exhausted, into your bed, you allowed your eyes to flutter shut, falling asleep. 

As your eyes flickered open, the smell of coffee greeted you. Smiling to yourself, you made your quiet way to the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Hi, Mom," you greeted. "Hey, hon," she replied, not meeting your eyes as she washed the dishes from this morning. "Hey, (y/n)?" she said again. You hummed lowly.

"Try not to use so many dishes when you make your tea, okay?" she muttered. "I only used one this morning." you denied. "Well, there are two cups in the sink, and it doesn't make sense." she replied. "Maybe you just forgot; I know you're stressed lately," she whispered. "I guess," you agreed.

"Well, it's almost time for you to get ready, and I made some coffee for you," she said. "I know," you sighed.

Sluggishly walking back to your room, you slipped on a white shirt, staying in the same undergarments as this morning, feeling it dumb to change. With a black zip-up hoodie over leggings, simple shoes, and your (h/c) (h/l) brushed. 

No makeup needed. 

You grabbed the thermos that'd been set on the counter and poured your coffee into it, adding the milk and sugar. This time, you put the sugar and spoon away. Fiddling with the lid, you finally fit it tight to the bottle, sighing deeply as you left. But not before telling your mother you loved her.

Phone, keys, thermos, wallet. That's all you needed. As you arrived, you pulled up, checking your wallet for a hair tie. Oddly, and to your horror, your card was in its usual spot. Heart in your throat, you took a hair tie out, assuming your coworker would ask for one before she went on her delivery trips. 

You were right. 

"Hey, do you have a hair tie?" she asked, pulling her ginger hair into a hold with her hand. Wordlessly, you handed it to her, walking behind the counter after tying your apron on. You leaned against the counter, waiting, as a man walked in. His hair was a deep, rich brown, falling above his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, they glanced at you, brown and tired. Bags were under them, falling into a sullen frown as you looked his face over. 

He smiled quickly, turning away as he walked the aisles of the gas station, silent, almost. He made no sound when he walked, and you wondered how such a tall, built man could be so utterly stealthy. He opened a freezer in the back, pulling out a drink. You couldn't quite see what it was until he stepped into another aisle; the aisle with chips. 

A bag rustled and he walked back to you. Placing the items on the counter, you realized that it was alcohol and some plain potato chips. "ID?" you requested. He handed you a small, plastic card. Taking it in your hand, you examined it. "What's your birthday?" you asked.

Looking closer at the ID, you realized that his name was Timothy, but his last name you didn't see, not before he answered, making you gaze back at him. He answered, holding his hand out expectantly. You handed him his ID and scanned his items. "Have a nice day, sir," you said, smiling as he walked off wordlessly. 

The bell rang as he left. 

Another hour or so passed by, and only a handful of interactions, left you alone with your thoughts, the buzzing of the lights, and the low, humming music from the store. You walked to the back of the store, grabbing a drink, water. 

Putting the money in the register, you began to drink slowly, nearly gagging and spitting up the water as a figure towered over you. "Hi, I'm sorry. You scared the life out of me!" you joked, coughing. "Oh, I'm s-sorry," they apologized. Noticeably, they had a stutter. 

"It's fine; you're just really quiet," you laughed again, trying to keep the mood light, despite his depressing, sorry tone. You coughed again, finally looking up at him. He had soft brown hair, covering his eyes slightly. Eyes a soft, shimmery green, though still with a sharpness. Alert.

A mask covered most of his face, obscuring your view. He was thin, you could tell, despite the large beige, brown, white, and blue hoodie he wore. "Is there anything I can do for you?" perking up, he looked at you. Without words, he walked to the back of the store. Grabbing a chocolate milk, he placed it on the counter, hands clad in what you assumed to be leather. "That all?" you checked.

He nodded wordlessly, mask shifting, as if he were chewing on his cheek. Ringing him up, "A dollar and eighty-nine cents, please," you requested.

He fished out some money and planted it on the counter, and you gave him the milk. "Thank you, have a nice day!" You chirped.

He walked out with a "you, too" and nothing else; not even a thumbs up.

--

Hours passed with nothing more than interactions and nearly slamming your head into the counter as you accidentally drifted off.

Now, it was time to go home. You waited for your coworker, and left when she got there. "Bye," she shouted. Waving, you left.

-- Once you arrived home, the rooms silent, you walked to the kitchen. There was a steaming mug of coffee, a sticky note placed on its side. "Just how you like it!" With a smiling face at the end. You smirked at the gesture, taking a small sip. And, indeed, it was just how you liked it.

Honestly, you hadn't even figured that your mother paid attention while you were around her. Heading back to your room, you found that your laundry was already folded on the bed.

"That's sweet, " you thought. Hanging your clothes and putting them into the drawers, you noticed another note. "This week will be full of surprises!" It read, the same handwriting as the note on the mug.

You put the clothes away correctly, lying disc on the clear bed. Before you feel asleep, you decided a shower was needed. As you entered the bathroom, you peeled off your clothes, strong into the scalding water.

It felt good against your cold skin, though. As you reached for your soap, you realized it was small and used up. Soon, you'd have to buy more. After washing your hair and body, you clambered out, wrapping a towel around yourself.

Falling back into your bed, you didn't bother to change. It's not like you had anywhere to be; not for a while, anyway. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you fell asleep.

--

A knock at your door awoke you, making your eyes spring open and your body jolt up. "Mom?" You questioned. No answer. "Mom?" You repeated, louder than before.

Opening the door, still in your towel, your heart dropped, but your grip on the cloth didn't. Thankfully. There stood a tall man, at least six foot, dressed in a mustard colored hoodie, denim pants, and steel-toe boots.

But the worst part, you were sure, was what state down. Where his face should be, instead, a black mask with two circles. Eyes. And one upside down U. A frown.

Your words caught in your throat as you tried to choke something, anything, out. His breath was muffled against the mask, and would have been falling on top of your head if not for the cloth.

After a moment of silence, you spoke up, still so scared. "What do you want?" You choked out. Without speaking, he shoved past you, walking to the corner of your room.

He simply snatched your little collection of sticky notes, holding them up to you. Pointing at the second one you'd received, the one about the surprising week, and tapped it lightly, mask shifting slightly.

You assumed he was smiling.

Apathetic-Wounded

You shook your head, disbelief flooding through you. "No." You denied. He nodded. "Yes." He retorted. He shoved past you again, leaning down once he reached you. "It's nice to see you up close, (y/n)." He muttered, exiting.

With a surge of confidence, or sheer stupidity, - likely the latter -, you grabbed his wrist. He turned around. "What do you want?" You snapped.

He laughed, but it was horrifyingly gravely and deep, and you didn't know what to make of it. With a strong grip on his wrist, him staring you down, and your face like a deer in headlights, he laughed.

Moving his hand to his pocket, he pulled something out. It was shimmery and sleek grey; there was a click sound, and the safety was off his gun. He did it skilfully, one handed. He tapped the cold barrel against the underneath of your chin.

You let go before he could say anything, though, you doubted he would've. "You're welcome. " he said. You held your breath, stepping back into your room as he left, somewhere out of sight.

There was no sound. Not the opening of closing of a door, not the jingle of keys. But after a moment, there was one: the sound of the kettle going off. You slowly entered the kitchen, skin crawling and heart thumping so violently against your ribs.

There was a mug, a foot away from the cabinet with the rest of the mugs. The sugar rested next to it. The spoon was on the sugars lid. And there was a teabag already in the cup.

The kettle continued to screech until you placed it on the other burner. Sitting against the counter top, you recalled the notes and the strangely sweet things.

Once again, there was a note. This time, it read,"Sorry for the scare!" In big, black ink. You sighed, thinking of what he could want. If he wanted money, then he was in the wrong place.

But he'd have to know that. He knew how you liked your coffee. What else could he truly want? Your mind flickered, and you needed to check on your mother. Dashing to her room, you quietly opened the door, only to find her awake, playing on her phone.

"Did you hear anything?" You asked, attempting to hide the absolute fear and panic that was sure to be lacing your voice. She shook her head, gaze returning to the screen of her phone.

You bolted out of her room, gently shutting the door, of course, and searched the rest of the house. After countless times of checking the rooms, you returned to yours, but not after making sure everything was locked.

After plopping on the bed, you shut your eyes, praying to wake up and have it all be a dream. But it wasn't, and you couldn't wake up from real life. Your phone buzzed lightly on the foot of your bed, and you picked it up, glancing at the screen.

It was a new message, but from a string of random numbers. This person wasn't in your contacts. You unlocked your phone, checking to see what it says. "Call the cops; I dare you!" It read.

Your heart sunk in your chest, a thundering headache splintering through your head. tears pricked at your eyes, streaming down your cheeks and falling onto the floor. "Fuck," you muttered. As you buried your face in the pillow, a scream shot out of your burning throat, being muffled by the soft fabric. "I can't do this," you thought.

Your mind scrambled, thoughts rushing back again and again to what they could want. But finally, it came back to the one possibility. You. They could want you. 

Hi could you do yandere Henry bowers or the bowers gang poly with a kidnaped reader who ends up being willing and affectionate to them

Warning: Language

Sorry the first part is super long and kinda irrelevant to your ask. It just kinda happened. Also I did it more reverse harem style just so you know, it again just happened😂

~*~

Henry Bowers was a force to be reckoned with by himself but with his gang there was no escape.

Y/N was a kind, shy soul living in the small town of Derry. They joined the losers club as one of the original members after befriending Richie Tozier, the loud mouth of the group, Soon befriending the others. Y/N was always kind to anyone and everyone, no wonder the losers loved her. But they weren’t the only ones.

“So, there's this church full of Jews, right? And Stan has to take this super Jewy test.” Eddie said as the losers walked down the hallway on the last day of school. Eddie, Bill, and Richie were walking down the hallway with Y/N in the middle of them, trying to protect them from the pushing and shoving.

“But how's it work?” Y/N questioned finding it interesting. But they would wish they didn’t.

“They slice the tip of his dick off.” Eddie spoke bluntly replying to the question.

“But then Stan will have nothing left!” Richie joked behind them, Stanley walks out of a classroom and runs up to the losers

“That's true.” Eddie spoke causing the boys to laugh and Y/N to roll their eyes.

Stan caught up and started walking between Bill and Richie.

“Hey, Stan, what happens at the Bar Mitzvah, anyways? Ed says they slice the tip of your d-dick off.” Bill asked with his stutter, he looked at his friend who looked embarrassed by the subject but not surprised.

“Yeah, and I think the rabbi's gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say "Where's the beef?" The 4 of them laugh loudly while y/n bursts into a fit of giggles.

“At the Bar Mitzvah, I read from the Torah, and then I make a speech and suddenly, I become a man.”

“I could think of funner ways to become a man.” Richie said as they turned down another hallway.

“More fun" you mean.” Stanley corrected with Y/N nodding to confirm as Richie looked to them for back up. He poured but realized who they were walking by.

The Bowers Gangs stood off to the side of the hall with Henry in the middle, belch to his right and Victor and Patrick on the outside.

“They are perfect.” Henry spoke “Nobody is better than them.”

They three other boys nodded looking almost lovesick but a look of possessiveness took over as they saw their person they were all obsessed with walking down the hallway surrounded by the losers.

“Are you guys ready?” Henry said as he looked intimidatingly at the others. A smirk showed on each of their faces as their eyes grew dark.

Their plan would be sent into action soon.

“Oh, shit.” Richie said as they passed the gang.once they safely made it past with the Bowers gang’s eyes following Y/N’s Retreating figure they all looked longingly but they knew they’d have her soon.

“Think they'll sign my yearbook? "Dear Richie, sorry for taking a hot, steaming dump in your backpack last March. Have a good summer."” Richie joked making Y/N giggle causing him to smile proudly.

As they go down the stairs, Gretta Keene, walks past them, bumps Stan making him look back at her as she runs into the girls bathroom.

Once they make it outside, Bill, Eddie, Richie, Y/N and Stan dump their notebooks and school things in the trash. Well not all of it in the trash for Y/N they kept their books they had put in there that they read in their free time.

“Best feeling ever.” Stanley said as he finished pouring his school work into the garbage that was already near overflowing.

“Yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time.” Richie said making Y/N lightly slap him on the head with a weird look in their face. He smiled at them innocently which they returned mockingly.

“Hey, what do you guys wanna do tomorrow?”

“I start my training.” Richie spoke giving no more insight into his plans but Eddie questioned him. “Wait, what training?”

“Street Fighter.”

“Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?” Y/N asked looking up at him with their hands on their hips with a frown in their face. They couldn’t understand why he would want to stay in doors all day.

“Yeah what they said.” Eddie back up looking up at Richie who had a incredulous look on his face.

“Beats spending it inside of your mother Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie retorted holding up a hand to stan for a high five but Stanley lowered it. “What if we go to the quarry?”

“ Guys, we have the Barrens.” Bill said looking at his friends.

“Of course Bill.” Y/N spoke empathetically. He wanted to search for Georgie, Y/N did as well. She loved the little boy. He was the kindest kid.

“Right.” Stanley said in agreement. Eddie looked around before looking over at the woman standing by the police.

“Betty Ripsom's mom.” Eddie spoke and the group turned towards the woman seeing her wringing her hands nervously and looking at the stream of kids piling out the doors.

“Is she really expecting to see her come out of that school?”

“ I don't know. As if Betty Ripsom's been hiding at Home Ec. for the last few weeks.”

“You think they'll actually find her?”

“Yes, of co-“ before Y/N could fishing they were cut off

“In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots. Smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear.” Richie replied making the group look at him disgustedly.

“ Shut up! That's freaking disgusting.”

“She's not dead. She's missing.” Bill corrected with annoyance. They aren’t dead. Betty’s not dead, Georgies not dead.

“Sorry, Bill. She's missing. You know the Barrens aren't that bad. Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water?” Richie said trying to correct what he said and get rid of the awkward silence. He felt bad saying that now, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Patrick walks out behind them; without warning, Henry grabs Richie and pushes him into Stan, knocking them both to the ground; Stan's hat falls off to which Patrick picks it up.

“Nice Frisbee, flamer.” Patrick said as he took stans hat.

“Give it back!” Stanley yelled, he was afraid of what his dad would say if he lost it but Patrick just laughs evilly and throws it through the window of a passing school bus.

“Fucking losers!” Patrick said aiming towards the boys while glancing out of the corner of his eye at Y/N who was hugging their back pack in fear and attempting to hide, which all of the gang noticed. What none of the losers noticed was Victor Criss who was standing behind Y/N a little distance away, not close enough to stand out but to where he can sneak up on her.

Belch proceeds to burp in Eddies face cashing him to gag.

“Loser.” Henry said while bumping into Bill. They go to turn away, but they weren’t going to walk away. Not without her.

“You suck, Bowers!” Bill yelled but Eddie knowing better than to pick a fight with Henry Bowers looked over at him with fear in his eyes “Shut up, Bill. “

The gang turns back around

“ You s-s-s-say something, Bi-Bi-Bi-Billy? You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother” Henry mocked “Ride's over, Denbrough.This summer's gonna be a hurt train for you and your friends.” Henry looks at Victor from the corner of his eye and the losers don’t notice a subtle flick on his hand which led to Victor closing in.

To continue to distract the loser Henry runs his hand along his tongue and wipes it on Bill's cheek who cringes in disgust and turns his head.

The losers had their eyes trained on Henry and they didn’t even notice when Victor was behind Y/N and quickly put a hand over her mouth making her eyes widen but before she could even make a noise she breathe in, which caused her to pass out due to the chloroform.

Victor Criss held her bridal style. Almost as if she had just fallen asleep. Belch had already previously unlocked the car so Victor ran and sat in the car with Y/N on his lap.

Once they rest do the gang saw no Y/N in sight they smirked and walked away.

“I wish he'd go missing.” Richie spoke spitefully glaring at their retreating figures.

“He's probably the one doing it. “ Eddie said back before looking around. “Hey, where’s Y/N?”

Back in Belch’s car, the gang piled into the car and Y/N was laid across Victor and Patrick’s lap with her head near Victor.

“Good job, Vic.” Henry said looking at the sleeping figure of the girl that was theirs.

The other two boys nodded before Belch started the car.

“We should probably get their before she wakes up.” Henry nodded at Belchs suggestion and he booked it out of the schools parking lot.

The Bowers Gang had been preparing for this day for months the day Y/N would be theirs.

They drove out to Victor Criss’s house since his parents didn’t live there and Henry cared Y/N into the room they had prepared for her and tied her ankle to the bed.

Took a few hours but they finally woke up.

Y/N sat up groggily as the drugs wore away, once they were able to open their eyes completely they saw the gang looking down at them making them jump back while letting out a squeak causing the gang to almost aww at their adorableness.

Y/N was breathing heavily in panic before asking…

“Why am I here.”

And Henry began explaining how he, Belch, Patrick, and Victor was in love with her, completely obsessed.

They gave no room for argument.

Y/N was theirs.

-1 month later-

Y/N was starting to adjust to the Criss house, Victor was always there, along with the others when they weren’t threatened by their parents, or in Henry’s case, Dad.

They often alternated who would sleep beside them first it was Henry, Belch, Patrick, and Victor. then rotate and this morning it was Henry.

Y/N woke up to the sunset early in the morning they knew Henry was on the other side of the bed but he didn’t want to scare y/n so they kept his distance, there was at least a foot of space between them.

Y/N knew that the Bowers going we’re trying their best to take care of them . After the month of spending time with them day in and day out they began to appreciate all they’ve done for them.

That morning Y/N was brave they slightly slid over in the bed and wrapped in arm around Henry’s waist with their head laying on his back.

But what they didn’t know, is that Henry was awake. He was a very light sleeper after living with his dad so he was constantly on edge so with the slightest movement on the bed he woke up from his sleep but didn’t move just thinking it was Y/N and rolling over on the bed. He was very surprised when he felt an arm wrapped around his waist and a head lay against his back and cuddle into him. In his mind he was going crazy, he just wanted to cuddle them back but he didn’t want to scare them and when he heard their breathing even out he knew they fell back asleep. But Henry cannot go back to sleep as he was basking in the moment.

Next with Patrick.

They were all watching a movie together and Y/N decided to get more comfortable as they were tired. They scooted closer to Patrick who was laying on the other end of the couch and lay their head down on his lap. They adjusted slightly so they were laying across the couch with their head on his lap and Patrick stare down at their head in awe. Victor and belch looked surprised but Henry wasn’t and he was just smirking. When they fell asleep on his lap he just calmly ran his fingers through their soft hair.

“They are perfect.” Victor said staring at them.

“We don’t deserve them.” Patrick said looking down at the figure laying on his lap.

“But neither do they. No one deserves them.” Henry said and they all nodded in agreement.

Next to was Belch.

It was just the two of them at Victors house that day as the others the others had left to go keep up appearances in the town. Also to throw others off their tracks, making sure no one would say a word if they had seen them take Y/N that day.

He woke up and made the breakfast for the two of them which was Y/F/F, and after they ate the food and Belch put the dishes in the sink Y/N wrapped their arms around him and had their face laying in his back.

“Thankyouforthefood.” Y/N spoke quietly in a grateful tone.

“Your welcome Y/N/N.” Belch said with a smile, it took him a second to tell what they said but once he didn’t he couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. He turned around in their arms and hugged them close. Y/N blushed heavily causing him to chuckle. They pouted and hid their face in his shoulder.

He loved them.

And finally Victor.

He was the last to receive affection from Y/N. It was another day when it was just Victor and Y/N at the house by themselves. When they decided to watch a scary movie, a.k.a. Friday the 13th, and Y/N wasn’t good with horror movies. They got scared and jumped onto Victor‘s lap. He stared at them and surprised at first, But wrapped his arms around their waist and help them close as they slightly cuddled into him. Victor was so happy and couldn’t help placing a kiss on their cheek.

The next day they were all at the house again sitting in the living room as the boys talked and Y/N responded whenever they asked her a question. They were about to disperse and do their own thing but Y/N stopped them by standing up and clearing their throat, gaining all 4 boys attention.

“I umm… I just wanted to say… t-thank you for all that you have done for me. I have really liked being here with you…. And I… really like all of you.”

The 4 boys jaws dropped and Y/N grew nervous as they continued to stare. But as Y/N was about to make a break for it to go back to their room to get out of the awkward situation they were brought into a group hug.

“We really like you too.” They all said and they all placed a kiss on her cheek or forehead.

Y/N was falling for them and they had already fallen.

~*~

I hope you liked it! Sorry it got super cheesy at the end. 😂

Also I tried to write without specifying a gender.