His Hand, So Calloused From His Pistol Softly Traces Hearts On My Face ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i was in my uber yesterday and i was talking about why my grade in the exam wasn't the highest with my friend and the man in the uber started tellin me (after she left) how it's fine and im still so smart and shit and he was clearly interested in me and i got a little freaked out bc he was forty somethin and when i got home i told my mom and she started blamin ME like wdym its my fault a weird older guy did that what was i supposed to do I AM SO FRUSTRATED AND SAD

Thinking about Steve Rogers and number 17 (we haven’t even started)

Including age gap, power dynamics, Dacryphilia, fear kink. Honestly thinking about a sickly sweet kidnapper!Steve who’s been stalking reader. “Don’t you think you’re one lucky girl, got Captain America desperate to use that pretty little cunt” and ohhhhh god. He tells reader how special she is, she was made for it, so she better start acting fuckin grateful. Prompt comes in the first time he’s gonna actually use her fully

~~ ✨🍄 for emoji signoff

BEWITCHINGLY FEARFUL

younger.ᐟcaptive reader && dark.ᐟsteve rogers with PROMPT (17)

DARK AND TRIGGERING CONTENT AHEAD, THESE ARE THE WARNINGS.

You crawled your shuddering body in the corner of the disgustingly narrow dorm he put you in a while ago. You didn’t even remember when he had brought you here, the time seemed to dilate and constrict, you didn’t know how long has gone since you were taken from your ordinary lifestyle. The room was barely kissed by a cold neon light from outside of it. The light refracted through a thin glass above the metal door and there was no other source of illumination. 

In an instant, the sound of metal howling—the door was much rusted and it sounded infernal every time it was unlocked—made you flinch and bury your lips in the back of your wrist to stop the fearful sobs from escaping. 

The unnatural coldness of the neon made your weakened, teary eyes scrunch in pain, but not for long. 

The light was tracing Steve Roger’s broad figure, and it made his shoulders and arms look impossibly titanic and all-consuming. Fear was the death of the mind—you knew it—but for you, it was different. Fear made you see grotesque and leviathanic things, it possessed you and your every sense. Or maybe—this was just the effect the man above you had and not your rational feeling.

When he crouched down next to you, the heart almost jumped from your chest. Acidic tears of hatred, anger and frighten ran down your cheeks as his fingers caressed the burning skin of them.  You didn’t pull away. You knew better.

“How’s my beautiful girl, hm?”, he started, a faint smug smirk planted on his face. 

You swallowed with difficulty, the insipidness of the spit running down your deserted throat and your eyes shot up and bore into his arctic blue ones.

He was Captain America. That one Captain America everyone talked about. He was supposed to protect the souls of his countrymen, not lock young and unwilling girls in the basements of his houses and force them to breathe moldy air in his nightmarish presence.  

You whined when his calloused, huge hand wrapped around your jaw and squeezed as he pulled your face closer to his. It hurted so much. “Tell me you want me too, sweetheart. Look how much I love you.”, he grunted, eyes sparkling with sickening hope as his free hand crept between the flesh of your thighs. You tried to close your legs as you pulled your face away roughly, before he even got the chance to plant his poisonous kisses all over it. 

Steve clenched his jaw tightly, and you saw the muscles in his knuckles tighten. Like a snap of a bone, his patience cracked and he slapped you across the face. You gritted your teeth as his arms, surprisingly tender, contrasting what he has just done, wrapped around your body. “Can’t you see what you’re doin’ to me?”, Steve asked—as if he forgot the act of violence he threw upon you seconds ago—, forcing your palm over his brutally rigid bulge. It made you feel even more dizzy and nauseous, its thickness scaring you to your core. “I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much. You’re so special.” His heartbeat patted loudly against your back. “N-no…”, you whimpered, trying to get out of his hold. But it was completely useless, strengthening serum was running through his veins and the determination he had in playing with your mind into believing he cared for you genuinely made your skin crawl.

 “Sweetheart, show a little gratitude. I saved you from the misery you lived in, and I’ll give you a future by my side, you’ll be the most gorgeous thing on my arm, you’ll have everything you would ever possibly want. Jus’ be good for me, ‘cause you won’t leave this place, so why not make it pleasurable for yourself?”. His hand reached for his jeans and the sound of the zip made you tense again and clench your thighs together in fear even harder. 

“I j-just wanna go home…”, you cracked, a sob tearing through you. 

Steve shook his head and then, he reached for your face again, his thumb rubbing the tears off. 

“F-fuck you…”, you spat, as realization just hit you again and brightened your mind into acknowledging who was holding you, as he pulled you over his thigh, making you staddle it in attempt of stopping your cries... “Don’t you think you’re one lucky girl, got Captain America so desperate to use your pretty little cunt…”, Steve grunted in your ear as he reached out to toy with the lace of your underwear, purposefully ignoring the way you cursed at him.

His words pulled the last string of obedience from you, and, as if you forgot the burn of his slap, you hit him right across the face. You were slowly but surely slipping into madness down there, because no fully sane person, chiefly in your position, wouldn't do that to the golden boy of America.

It did nothing to injure him. However, his gaze turned obsidian, void of any sympathy or human emotion. He inhaled, chest puffing and almost throwing you off his thigh. Your limbs went still as his stare pinned you in place. This was possibly your greatest mistake ever made. 

You expected to receive a slap — not a punch. It sent you right on the chill-soaked floorboards. Your trembling knuckles reached for the blood-covered cheekbone, agonizingly gently to wipe it off. The crimson substance was hot on your digits, warming their frozen state. 

Steve’s knee fell on your spine, as his merciless grasp tore your underwear off your hip bones. You whined, but the punch drained the life out of you, so you were very feeble and you could do nothing against it but whimper and plead.

If he cared for you, just as he has claimed...why wasn't he stopping when he saw you so vividly and indisputably horrified?

“I fuckin' love it when you're so scared f'me...”, he growled in your ear. Tears made your body convulse, his words giving you the answer to your unspoken question, as he was preparing his thick member to take what he wanted from you, silent screams wrecking your being. Your mind was shouting: 'Please, do not do this. Not now. Not ever.'

“C’mon, baby, don’t cry…we haven’t even started.”

⁎✵࿔๛ TAGS: @highonmarvel

        ꒰ 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒's works for 𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐋'S CHARACTERS.    ꒰ main m. / characters list         ꒰ ꒱ PROMPTS ⒈ & ⒉ for requests /   ...   MY 'READERS' PALETTE   / ABOUT 𝐌𝐄  ... ꒱ "where art thou, why not uponeth me?..." | DARK CONTENT |

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© THEHYDRAETHEREAL COPYRIGHTS. DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR REWRITE MY WORKS. INTERACT USING YOUR COMMON SENSE. THIS CONTENT IS TRIGGERING.

hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared

I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE

bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words

MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION

MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS

“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”

You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity. 

Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony. 

You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin. 

The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind. 

The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.

You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive. 

If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did. 

However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.

“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.

The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom. 

You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.  

His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.

“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”

He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam. 

Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.

Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it. 

His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you. 

Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.

“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do. 

His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.

 The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode. 

“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.

“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly. 

“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life. 

Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car. 

“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame. 

“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf. 

‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones? 

No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”

With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.

Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.

Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day. 

The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you. 

Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.

“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear. 

Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly. 

In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched. 

“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass. 

Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.

“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.

“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating. 

His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.  

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach. 

Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.

“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words. 

“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.

Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision. 

“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world. 

“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”

Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?

You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.

He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.

The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.

“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.

End.

✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡

I WANNA FUCKING THROW UP THIS SPARKLED MY WHOLE MONTH I AM SOBBING MY BABYYYYY

MY LOVE IS BACK OH LORD---

hiiii 🤍

wow wow i have to say i had no intentions on disappearing especially for this long, i’ve had soo much going on irl and honestly still do, but i’m finally at a point where i want to try to start writing again though i’m still trying to find the inspo :(

i appreciate all the love and well wishes i’ve gotten while i’ve been gone!! i won’t post them all but i have read them so thank u <3

idk if this is me coming back 100% officially but just wanted to check in and say i’m alive lmao feel free to come say hi or send ideas to spark my inspo again 🤍 ily guyss

plsss do a dark professor rafe x young reader who is naive and rafe corrupts her and traps her. Noncon ❤️❤️

๛ PAWN

༻꧂ ᥫONTENT WARNINGS: My content is dark and this piece includes elements such as NON-CON; threats; choking; power imbalance; age gaps; coercion; manipulation, curse words and possible others. MDNI, MY WORKS ARE 18+.

༻꧂ MY NOTES: I love dark Rafe. REQUEST MORE Y'ALL (via INBOX)

༻꧂ CATEGORY: RAFE CAMERON ONE-SHOT (𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌. | 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌.)

꧁༺ SUPPORT ME BY REQUESTING MORE, BY REBLOGGING, COMMENTING AND LIKING. THANK YOU!

"So, you wanna pass, right?", your professor, Rafe, asks, leaning back on the plain wall behind his desk with muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest, shielding it from your shy eyes. "More than anything!", you whimper, nodding your head vigorously. ”I mean, that’s what my parents want from me…”, you whisperly confess, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip.

“And what a saint you are, listening to your mommy an’ daddy, while all your other classmates don’t give a flying fuck about theirs.” The tone laced with bitter amusement makes you flinch. Rafe has never spoken that way before, you have always considered him a moral person. 

“P-please, sir…just help me pass, I’ll do anything. I’ll study for hours, for days, I don’t care, jus’ tell me what to do…”, you plead. Rafe chuckles, not planning to sentence you to continuous studying, God forbid he would do that to his sweet girl. “Come here.”, he breathes out, admiring his reflection into your glossy, widened eyes. 

You approach his desk with shaky legs and his hand is swift to grab at your throat. The sudden movement makes you sob, fear overcoming all your senses. ‘What is happening?’ is the scream that bubbles up in your mind. 

 “You want to pass? Then give me a reason to make it happen, baby. Otherwise… you fail. Simple.”, he growls, ocean blue eyes now a shade of darkened coal. He squeezes your neck tighter, wordlessly demanding a response. 

You push weakly at his chest, the lack of air starting to become unbearable, a gesture he clearly doesn’t like. "Grades can be fixed. But so can attitudes. Think carefully, sweetheart. I decide what happens next… and trust me, you won’t like failing my class.", he growls again, bending you over his desk.

And, as you feel his austere, calloused hands bruising your thighs, his wife’s eyes, drilling into yours from the pictures on the workbench, were the ones pinning you in place, silencing your nonexistent screams to just whimpers, tears and, just as Rafe grunts from above you, prayers. Prayers to pass with just this “small” gesture. But you’re not so sure. You know professor Rafe, and he is anything but easily convinced.

me when my cute, adorable, gorgeous, mystical, hot, scrumptious, admirable, MOST ETHEREAL AND KINDEST bestie messages me on Tumblr

( @highonmarvel TALKING ABT U OFC)

Troy (2004) -> shades of blue.

throwback to this 😭 THANK YOU AGAIN ML

Can i request a rafe cameron oneshot please? With daddy kink, something like Rafe manipulating reader into believing he's the only one who would love her since not even her dad loved her, it can start with them figthing and making her cry just to console her with the same hands that hurted her <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ; ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ! ᴋɪɴᴋ; ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʜʜʜʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʜɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴅᴅᴅ! ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʜʜʜʜ! (ᴛᴀɢ: @rvfecamerons ɪʟʏʏʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴋɪɴᴅᴅᴅᴅ)

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You stand in the dimly lit living room, your heart pounding as you watch Rafe pace back and forth. His eyes, once a soft blue that you loved, now seem dark and unreadable. He's furious. You don't know why, but you assume it's his father. You’ve been building up the courage to say this for weeks, and the words finally tumble out, even though you know you shouldn't say this now.

“I’m leaving, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.” you whisper, your voice shaking.

The air grows still. Rafe stops pacing and turns to face you. His jaw tightens, and you can see the fury building behind his gaze. You take a step back, regretting your choice of words, but it’s too late to take them back now.

You pity yourself. You know you're not brave or smart enough, actually. That's how you felt your entire life. That's why you thought leaving Rafe. He is everything you aren't: smart, rich, admired. You're just the dumb, overly emotional girl who has never been loved. And also...his agressive acts are getting worse, reminding you of your father. And you hate that with burning passion.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerously calm, sending chills down your spine. You let out a shaky sob, closing your eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.

"I asked you a fuckin' question!" he yells, the sudden change of tone making you flinch. When you don't answer, he laughs, half annoyed, half patronising.

"Oh, wow..." he says, raising his hands mockingly, "not so brave anymore, huh?"

"w-well..I-" you start, trying to make your voice sound steady.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. The suddenness of his movement and the intensity in his eyes make you gasp. His fingers dig into your skin, and you wince, the pain mixing with the terror that’s quickly rising inside you.

“Are you talkin' back, tryin' to get fuckin' smart with me?,” he shouts in your face. You screw your eyes shut, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your insticts make you pull away, but his grip tightens. "Hey!" he yells, pulling you into his chest, his hands gripping yours unforgivingly. "Open your fuckin' eyes and look at me!" he demands.

When you don't obey his command, one of his hands leaves your wrist and connects with your jaw. He holds your head up, forcing eye contact, and your teary eyes meet his dark ones, sending new waves of pure terror through your body. The grip on your jaw is painful, but not as the flashbacks that flood your mind.

You remember the way your father used to do the same thing when you talked back or refused to do something he asked you to.

Panic makes you choke on air, and you let out a frightened 'I cannot breathe, R-Rafe...'

The room seems to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the pain in your wrists and the darkness in Rafe’s eyes.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You think you can just leave? Okay, do it, baby! Where you goin'? To your daddy's? That used to beat your ass?.” His voice is harsh, making you whimper. His words hurt more than anything.

He finally loosens his grip slightly, just enough for you to gasp for air. But he doesn’t let go. “You’re not leaving,” he repeats, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, desperate to placate him, to make this nightmare end.

For a moment, he studies your face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he releases your wrists. You stumble back, cradling them to your chest, your tears falling freely now. Your heart races, and you feel a cold dread settle in your stomach. He approaches you again, pulling you into an intoxicating hug. You sob in his chest, tears soaking his shirt. He gently soothes you, caressing your back. It feels so wrong, but yet there you are, letting the man that hurt you also comfort you.

"Daddy's here, baby..." he says, the nickname he gave himself lowkey making you sick. "I love you, only me", he says, smiling as he grips your chin and makes you look at him. "I'm your everything, baby. Never forget that. I really love you, baby..." he whispers, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You nod again, unable to find your voice, the fear still gripping you tightly. You know in that moment that things have changed, that you’re trapped in a way you hadn’t fully realized before. And the worst part is, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to escape.

"It's okay, baby...Daddy's here." he finished, making your skin crawl.

MY WARNINGS

✦ I will put the warnings ahead of each piece of fanfiction. Keep in mind that my work contains triggering elements such as nonconsensual sex; abusive relationships; sexual/mental/physical abuse; violence; harassment; sex trafficking; abduction; age gap; power dynamics and possible other dark themes. Proceed with caution. This blog is not for minors. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

WHAT I WRITE...

✶ I will only write female reader / I will only write dark content ✶ I will only write the elements written above in my warnings, nothing else, and for sure, nothing that includes underage relationships or gory elements, A/B/O dynamics or something that includes supranatural creatures such as vampires, werewolfs etc.

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