hello! you can call me stag/ivory/mr lawless. im a brown skinned witch and sensitive soul. i live on savory foods, absinthe, and of course, yandere content
just about everything i write is degenerate fiction, and since you ended up on this side of the internet, that's probably exactly what you're looking for.
youre such a perv!! ewwwww stinky pervert (point and laugh everybody)
feel free to request or ask anything, (like literally anything, tell me about what kind of toothpaste you use) this is a very laid-back blog that i don't take seriously, im here to have fun!
do NOT mean to me i WILL cry about it and pretty please don't feed my writing into ai, that's the opposite of sexy which is outlawed around here. sexy things only
and remember, mr lawless loves you and you're very important *kisses your forehead*
all posts are under #mr lawless
random posts are under #silly stag
anon asks are under #baby deer asks
DNI prompstitutes / generative ai whores / bombaclot minors
(I CHECK YOUR PROFILES DUMMY!!!)
About somno yan, what exactly is the situation? Did he kidnap reader, did he force himself into her home?
How did they meet? What made him obsessed with her?
How much of a monster is he? Does he want to eat his darling? Or is it more, he's part spirit or something?
What does he like about somnophilia? Is it because reader can't get away from him or does he like the forbidden aspect of it?
hello spagehetti! ê(Ë”Ë á ËË”) fancy of you to come by, must be a special occasion...
im going to have to shy away from your first question because the explanation is sitting amongst my drafts next to my other masterpieces such as 'fighting to the death with your kidnapper' and 'how much brain damage can a darling take?'
i'll take a similar ambiguous approach to answering question two, but demytri does see a sort of kinship between himself and his darling and he holds a quiet admiration for her. think beauty and the beast type of vibes.
admittedly the first two fics i uploaded depicting demytri might have been a bit misleading regarding his character. but to be fair, demytri is a completely different person when he's horny and he was feeling FAR more human in comparison to his typical mood. question three: to be specific, he's half human exactly. his other half is leshen/wendigo (people eating parts included)
on account of the massive schlong his wendigo form has and for the sake of fitting inside his darling, he's able to change his form at will
question four: demytri prefers somno because he genuinely believes his darling is safer that way. she has a way of riling him up when she's awake, and make it harder for him to control himself.
anyway, reading and responding to this ask has actually revived my interest in demytri, so i might pull a fic out of my ass and upload it eventually.
there are quite a few of you following this blog now, and im a bit curious to see my clienteles astrological influences
whats your zodiac sign?
â€ïžâđ„fire sign [aries, leo, sagittarius]
đžearth sign [taurus, virgo, capricorn]
đȘair sign [gemini, libra, aquarius]
đwater sign [cancer, scorpio, pisces]
Voting ended onJul 13
okay, sorry if this is spam or whatever. ive been posting a shit ton lately haha.
7/13 edit: i did NOT expect the bulk of you all to be fire signs, lol, i do love my leos though!
Oh I really loved your latest fanfic about the gentle captor please donât delete it if you canđ„čđ„čđ„č it deserves to be on your blog! But not pressuring you obv!!!
Iâm also one of those people who love to see the y/n looking miserable and depressed... Idk it's just something about these stories where thereâs all-accepting love and care, even when the y/n is in constant pain and they no longer have the strength to maintain their dignity in the face of the pressure from the situation and the captor and overall theyâare just totally powerless... Theyâre a shell of their former selves and donât have the strength to resist now.... Like a state of complete vulnerability...... This kind of love is so twisted and sick but at the same time, there is some comfort to it and that youâre still loved even like this. (For someone with chronic depression (me) this really hits home lmao)Â
You mostly write about the brat y/n, and as it seems to me people are asking you to write about y/n who has given up precisely because this transition from a fighter to someone who has surrendered will be very contrasting and interesting :))
might have got carried away and wrote some dick in here, a few sprinkles of fluff- mdni & 18+(duh) maybe typos? i bothered to proof read but 'm a wee bit drunk.
your apparition within my inbox is appreciated!! it makes me feel a bit less anxious over the previous post<3 i was more so concerned on whether or not i would offend someone with a deplorable inaccurate misrepresentation sh experiences (because i dont exactly have firsthand experience with it)
yes, this is my blog, but i do indeed...give a fuck what strangers on the internet think of me </3
but i also dont have experience with being kidnapped and held against my will! and yet here i am writing a yandere blog. all in all, fiction is fiction, and who really gives a shit anyway?
despite my proclivities for writing darlings that REALLY love to push their yandere's buttons
i must admit there is something appealing about a darling that has had enough of getting their ass handed to them. their resolve, they thought was so strong, chipped away little by little to the point where they can't even recognize themselves anymore.
t's a defeat they can't even feel to the full extent because of all their buried emotions. typical five of cups situation if you're familiar with tarot. then they regress into four cups, because they can't even be bothered to give a fuck about this mess for any longer.
this learned apathy gives you more freedoms ultimately, over time your captor will stop seeing you as a threat to what he has worked so hard to build. a small part of you thinks it's nice not being locked up in your room whenever he's away, but it's never enough to keep you happy for long.
he was right when he told you that submission would be so much easier. the hard part was swallowing your ego, your formerly iron-will lay rusted and abandoned. your captor helped you through that, day by day. as patient as a predator.
he stripped away every single sliver of autonomy you had until you had no choice to bare your rawest self with him. everything about you, all your highest and all your lows, he was the one to witness the good, bad, and ugly, and still he looked at you with the same amount of adoration he had for you from day one, if not more.
it's true unconditional love, even if the foundation is beyond fucked up. it's the love he gives you, now you dont scream and cry and fight it.
it not unreasonable to think gentle captor would probably relish in his darling's catatonia. the more cuddle time he gets with you, the better! he doesn't mind if he has to wake you up every morning and spoon feed you breakfast, it's really no big deal if you can't even be bothered to brush your teeth or dress yourself. anything for you! (except letting you go, that's blasphemy in his book)
you had no idea how happy you make him merely by existing: every day he came home to see you exactly where he left you, still in the clothes he dressed you up from before he left. your presence alone is always enough to send him over the moon.
but he's not made of steel, he intimately knows who you were before he sunk his teeth into you, (he has thousands of pictures of you living your old life) and you were right when he said it was all his fault. there was a time where you loved to point fingers and sneer. bite into him and maybe even hope he would bite back just so you wouldn't be the only one so angry all the time. but you don't even do that anymore, you don't have much to say. you hardly even look at him at all, unless he tells you too.
he'd never say it out loud but there's something so delectable about the way you behave now, this 'new side of you'. he'll never get sick of that escapist look in your eyes that only disappears when you fall into sleep. after he spent so much time breaking you down and shaping you, you finally came around.
he's been your gentle captor from the start. but the only thing that really changed about him was the way his way of making love to you.
calling you so pretty and so perfect as he peppered long kisses across your back and shoulders, the slow thrusts of his dick inside you were even longer. his motions slow and deep, one of his hands snaked under your belly to press the shape of his cock in your lower abdomen.
he merely altered his approach in response to your change in behavoir. gone were the days of wrestling you down or trussing you up with ropes. you were practically a porcelain doll now, so he treated you accordingly.
this was better than having your bottom slapped raw in the earlier days to get you to sit still. he'll still give you a swat every now and then just to keep you on your toes.
90% of my literary diet is sourced from the gracious offerings of tumblr writers. i will happily dick ride these authors until the day i die, they are generous and bountiful with their art and i am grateful that they share their masterpieces with us peasants.
but like ottessa moshfegh? lapvona? my year of rest and relaxation?? tiiightt tight tight. highly recommend.
GENTLE CAPTOR IS SO HOT Can you maybe write about how he'd react if the reader tried harming themselves to 'get out of the situation' or just out of their misery completely?
⟠â.Ë tw: yandere themes, power imbalance(obviously), sh, viewer discretion is advised, ykwim, read the ask, and ask yourself: what do you expect to find in here? (i didn't edit this, typos beware)
by now, you'd mostly gotten over your long episodes of open and unashamed aggression exclusively directed towards him.
yes, life was frustrating, but it was your life now and there wasn't much you could do able it. being angry about it all the time wasn't helping; it was just giving you headaches while he was mildly inconvenienced at most.
once that red flush of fury pooling in your core like lava simmered down over the course of weeks, new feelings emerged. new desires that just wanted to be relieved even if it was just for a moment.
you weren't looking too well; he noticed it first when he went to brush some hair away from your face. his typical antics, always wanting to keep you tidy when it was really just an excuse to touch you.
but instead of snapping at him like you would've done in the first few weeks or at least shrinking away; you just sat there with a frown and knit brows.
it was subconscious at first, digging your nails into your thighs when he asked you to do something you really, really didn't want to do.
like getting out of bed or looking him in the eye when he spoke to you.
then the mere thought of him makes your skin begin to crawl, you dreaded when. you never spared a glance to sneer at him, whether his back was turned or not.
and just feeling his touch against your skin was enough to make you want to claw your face off but you kept your rage contained to your skin for now.
and you really, really hated it when he didn't let you clean up on your own. hated that privacy was essentially a privilege he could take and give as he pleased.
he noticed your bad habit while he was bathing you.
'darling..?' he muttered with knit brows, further inspecting the dark red lines etched in your skin.
'what?' you snapped at him, still crossing your arms over your breasts like he hadn't already seen every inch of you three times over.
he noticed the others, too deep to be caused by just your fingernails. he said your name with suppressed emotions, still there was a subtle graveness to the way it rolled of his tongue.
'what are you going to do about it? it's my body' it's all you have left to control. 'i'll do whatever i want with it...'
'i can't let you hurt yourself.'
'i don't care what you want.' you said bitterly, 'this is your fault. everything's all your fault.'
he didn't respond, you were right in a way. and if this was his fault, it was his responsibility to make sure you didn't do it again. to keep you safe, even from yourself.
when he finished up with you in the tub, he dried you off like usual but instead of carrying you to your room, he ended up sitting you on the sink counter before taking a knee and kissing every injury you inflicted.
watching him only made you grit your teeth, so you turned your sneer away
your friendly captor held you particularly close that same night, quickly closing the distance between you whenever you tried to inch away.
the next day he had a gift for you, a pair of thin gloves in your favorite color. it was a bit on the nose you thought.
and you couldn't exactly ignore all the sharp things in your vicinity suddenly disappearing. the razors in the bathroom, the knife block in the kitchen, even the small scissors kept at your desk by your pencils and other craft supplies.
gone, following behind all the trust he had built with you over the months had crumbled and you were back to day one.
you denied the gloves at first, but when he presented the alternative of securing your hands behind your back with a silk length of ribbon, you reluctantly slipped the mittens on.
this was definitely something to write, though ive never been one to deny a request. you guys must love seeing y/n absolutely miserable, wonder what that says about you for requesting, and me for writing it? lowkey will probably delete this later, idk im iffy
heck yahhh, he likes whatever you like! well, he'll listen to whatever you like, so if you're into blah blah blah, he'll listen to it just for you (even if he hates it, though i dont see him genuinely 'hating' anything). though personally, he's keen on soft rock and indie, he loves hoizer and lucy dacus, and ethel cain is his guilty pleasure
you tended to forget a lot of things when you were under the influence. the influence of what exactly? you couldn't say, but your friendly captor absolutely could.
whatever the hell he put in your food, he was liking how it worked on you so far, even if it had a slow start, the results were truly fascinating to observe.
and observe he did, crossed legged on the bedside with his half-lidded eyes. the dark embers in the pits of his pupils yearning with hellfire under a dispassionate facade.
you tried your door thrice within the span of 15 minutes, seemingly forgetting it was locked every time you went back to give it another go, and the fact it had been locked since day one.
normally you wouldn't even look at the food he offered to you, but your resolve was only so strong after a few days and the meal smelled too enticing, not to mention that he cooked your favorite for dinner. that sly bastard.
you gave in and once you got a taste you couldn't stop. it was delicious, you devoured it in a matter of minutes while ignoring his smirk as you cleaned the plate.
pleasing him was never something you wanted to do intentionally, not when you were lucid at least.
not even an hour later, you were suffering the consequences of giving into your survival inclinations. shame on you. should've just starved to death.
instead, you were trying your best to ignore the aching between your thighs and the way felt like you were floating three inches off the floor. you kept looking down just to make sure you hadn't taken flight, but your feet were blurry through your double vision.
'what..what the hell did you... you put in my food?'
'it'd be more amusing if you didn't know,'
'fucking asshole...' you kept your distance at the furthest side of the room, leaning against the wall right beside the door that refused to open.
he found it impossible to pull his gaze away from you. that the look on your face was admirable to say the least: your features were caught within an irritated pout with a soft haze of weariness in your eyes. though you were more confused than you were cranky.
your hands were palming at you face like you could rub away the fog from your head. 'i don't?' 'why-?' 'it's...why's it so hard to think?'
'then don't,' he stated, 'come here.'
'w...why...?'you grumbled under your breath, turned your head from him. 'no...d-don't want to.'
his reply was delayed, but when it came his voice was just a smidge softer than it was before. 'i just want to look at you for a moment, please come here.'
'...fine.' you stumbled from your place leaning against the wall and approached him, he extended his hand to you. you took it. he guided you onto his lap to straddle his waist.
'thank you.'
you didn't hear him. his body was so warm in comparison to the cold air around you.
then the frustration in your face slowly melted away in response to the comfort. then your eyes caught the tuffs of soft hair around his neck.
'...your hair...hair's getting longer.' your fingers acted before your mind processed the urge to thread them through his locks. served as a distraction from whatever was troubling you.
'is it? i hadn't noticed.' he thought you might like it better that way, 'your hairs getting long too.' he started palming at your scalp
'do you like that?'
'...'
he knew you did from the way you melted against his chest and your lower back arched against him, but he wanted to hear you say it.
you just hummed, forming words seemed rather daunting right now. and you were wholly ignorant to how your front was pressing so close against his junk.
you were basically dry humping him and it was working just a little bit to quell that aching between your thighs.
there was a chuckle caught in his throat, '...i bet you do, pretty girl.'
his opposite hand went to your butt, pressing you closer against bulge tent in his pants. gently encouraging you of the action, so you continued more consciously this time, lazily rutting your hips against his thick bulge.
'-this okay...?'
'that's it...that's it baby, just like that...'
'keep going...' you whimpered, fearful he would stop. he heard it in your soft voice, and it only made him harder.
he happily continued to stroke the round curvature of your bottom, squeezing and pinching every now and then just to relish in your reaction.
he slipped under your mini skirt, and his fingers teased at the fat of your pussy secured in your panties.
the change caught you off guard and a deep red blush intensified across your features. you felt a gush of warmth spread throughout your core. 'hey-..!'
'what'd i tell you about thinking?' his gentle but stern tone caught you off gaurd as well, and for the first time since her brought you here you second guessed yourself.
'... s-sorry.'
'you don't need to use your mind, just relax and be my good girl- alright?' he gave your bottom a few firm pats then presented his opposite hand to your lips, nudging them to part with his fingertips.
you knew what to do from there: your mouth drenched his fingers in your saliva and sat very still for him as he brought the same hand to your cunt.
he found your clit with relative ease, while you squirmed under his tortuously soft touches. that asshole was teasing you with his feather light touches, taking in all your faint whimpers before he finally decided to give you what you needed.
he made your clit swell with his practiced ministrations, thumbing and pressing at the pearl with that perfect amount of pressure that practically had you drooling against his shoulder. he wasn't shy about fingering you either, he just preferred that you were properly drenched beforehand so sliding in was easy.
you really made it hard for him to hold back. hearing you cry those little pleas.
'please...please...please...'
he chuckled, gave you a squeeze at your bottom. a sign that you needed to wait just a bit longer. you were so fixating on just coming but he wouldn't let you. not yet.
he hushed you with a kiss, you hastily reciprocated albeit you were rather sloppy. swapping spit with him like there was no tomorrow, his tongue was in your mouth, and yours in his, while your breaths intertwined.
soon he overpowered you in the kiss, his hand that wasn't lodged in your panties pressed the back of your head further into him, until his tongue was down your throat.
he swallowed every moan that slipped out of your throat with each thrust of his fingers in your pussy. by then, you had already soaked through your underwear, and the mess of excitement began to coat his pants.
his hands now grasped at both your hips, guiding you to lift them where his fingers tugged at the waistband of your panties. after a bit of maneuvering, they were discarded at the floor. without any haste, he loosened his pants and his cock sprang free; it's length of straight girth was rock hard on your bare stomach.
you were steadying yourself by your palms on his shoulders, gawking down at the absolute pussy destroyer he has between his legs. slowly he lowered you onto the head of his dick, earning a long and absolutely delicious cry out of you.
'there we go...there we go'
one inch at a time, until your entrance was filled with straight dick where you sat on him at the hilt.
Thinking about getting into an accident - nothing too bad, just a little fender bender. But you've had a long day, and you give the guy a lot more attitude than you should.
Snapping that this wouldn't have happened if he didn't brake check you. Asking if he can even afford insurance or if you're supposed to pay for this shit out of pocket. Snarling that your daddy is going to sue the living daylights out of him.
Thinking about the yandere mechanic just off his shift who's too fucking tired to deal with your bullshit. Prissy fucking thing, ain'tcha? Thinking you're so much better than him. Sneering at his truck and his clothes like honest work is the filthiest thing you've ever seen.
Yandere mechanic who's been on the end of his rope for a while now. Pay is shit, boss is shit, can't hold onto a girl for the life of him. All he wants is to go home and have a cold beer. But no. Some little bitch is yelling at him.
Yandere mechanic who's spent his entire life on the the wrong side of the tracks. Kind of guy who's had more than a few run ins with the cops. Who's probably served a year or two in corrections, and who's barely holding onto his parole.
Yandere mechanic who finds himself reaching for the tire iron peeking out of his toolbox without even realising it. God, girls like you are the fucking worst. Prancing around in your short skirts and high heels and turning your nose up at anything that bothers you. Daddy's money bitch that needs to be taught a lesson. Needs to brought down a few pegs. Needs to be fucking humbled.
Yandere mechanic who swings the tire iron right at your temple, and never mind that his mama told him to never hit a woman.
You fold like a fucking marionette, passed out as his feet in less than five seconds. Still breathing, not convulsing. Good. Didn't hit you too hard.
Yandere mechanic who shoves his tools off the backseat and tosses you into his truck. Not so fucking mouthy now, are you? Who rips a pack of zip ties open with his teeth and ties you up with the same casual efficiency he uses to change a tire.
Your skirt rides up a little when he hauls you onto his backseat, and he runs his palm down your thigh before he slams the door. God, you've got such nice skin. Bet you taste like sugar and vanilla.
Yandere mechanic who takes you home and then comes back to dump your Audi way out in the sticks. Anything coulda happened to you. And if he's smart about it, no one will ever catch on that he was involved in your sudden and tragic disappearance.
I'm especially thinking about what it must be like to wake up after he knocks you out.
Your head pounding, your eyes aching. Confused. Disoriented. Not sure where you are or why you can't move your hands.
Thinking about noticing him for the first time, sitting in an armchair a little ways from the bed, legs spread and a beer dripping condensation at his feet. The room dark, the only light coming from the moon and his cigarette.
A real blue collar bastard, still in his wife beater and work pants, stained black with grease.
Just watching you.
The tip of his cigarette glowing with each pull and giving you a second or two to see his face - the mean smirk, the too jaded eyes.
"Not so fucking mouthy now, are you?"
You scream.
No use. It's muffled by the gag. Some random scrap of cloth that tastes of motor oil and digs into your cheeks. You try and sit up, but he's got you trussed up good and proper.
He watches you try and get loose, watches you thrash and scream and cry. Until your hair is all over your face and clinging to the tears on your cheeks.
Thinking about the way he grinds out his cigarette. Thinking about that last bit of light going out and the way it's like a kick to the face.
Thinking of the way he finally stands, and you realise just how big he is compared to you. Not pretty boy gym rat muscles either. But the hard shit you build hauling machinery and parts all day.
Thinking of the way he walks towards you, boots so damn heavy on the floorboards. Already reaching for his belt buckle.
"Gonna take real good care of sweetheart. Just gotta fuck all that attitude out first."
đđđđđđđđ
Yandere Kidnapper x Escapee Darling
⥠AN: what the title says. this fell out of my brain like a slimey booger. i threw it at my laptop and now you're reading this. mind the tags. like, really. mind the tags.⥠TW: 18+ ONLY, NON CON, omorashi, humiliation, infantilization, fingering, spanking, forced drinking? (water), actually not ddlg which is surprising coming from me but ddlg vibes,
looking back, you took what you had for granted. that's a crazy statement, considering you were being forced to live with and fuck your kidnapper, but it's the pitiful truth.
you really didn't think he could be any worse back then. when he got in the shower with you, you would yell, when he picked out your clothes, you complained. it was dehumanizing. unbearable. it was bad enough that he chained you to his bed and "made love" to you every night. the infantilization just rubbed salt in the already excruciating wound.
infantilization. that's funny. you had no clue what infantilization was. you had it good back then. sure, it was demeaning, but it wasn't... well, it wasn't this.
he didn't treat you like an actual child.
plastic sippy cups, childproofed counters, covered outlets, cabinets completely purged of anything sharp. the house he brought you back to after your escape attempt (or "tantrum" as he likes to call it) looks like that of an expecting couple.
as he walks you through the house your mind immediately goes to the worst. he's going to get you pregnant. he probably already flushed your birth control. all of this is preemptive, for the baby.
it isn't until he brings you to your room and places you in what you can only describe as an adult crib, that you realize you are the baby.
pregnancy suddenly doesn't seem so bad.
it's not a fetish thing, you don't think. at least not as far as the last four hours have proven. none of the rooms aesthetics have been changed, he doesn't make you call him daddy, and his dick has stayed soft inside his pants, he only seems interested in controlling you, in "keeping you safe" as he so lovingly put it.
it's one thing after another. first the crib, then the pre cut up dinner that he hand feeds you in his lap, then the bath (and the subsequent spanking when you fight him), then brushing your teeth for you - but all of that was tame, you now realize, in comparison to this.
"i have to pee," you whimper softly as he carries you out of the bathroom. it's partially true, it's been a while since you last went, but you also want a moment to yourself, a moment to process everything thatâs happening.
he hesitates for a moment, but eventually sets you down, curling his fingers under the waistband of your pajama pants and pulling them down to your toes.
"sit." he grunts. and you do, waiting expectantly for him to step out.
but he doesn't.
instead, he backs up a few feet, crosses his arms and looks you dead in the eye.
"go ahead."
it takes a moment for you to process, longer to come to terms with. you close your knees in embarrassment, laughing nervously, expecting - praying that he'll join you.
but he doesnt. instead, he sighs, looking down at his watch, "you have fifteen minutes before bed. hurry up."
oh. he's not leaving.
"i um... could i have some privacy, please?" you try, offering him a wobbly smile.
he shakes his head. "you ran away like a child, so I have to treat you like a toddler. toddlers need to be watched in the bathroom." he states, far too nonchalantly for the context of the statement.
it takes even longer to process that, more to fight down the feeling of ants crawling under your skin. when you finally open your mouth to reply, the lump in your throat becomes too heavy, you canât help the sob that falls past your lips.
All of the pent up emotion youâve been carrying up to this point drips down your cheeks and into the toilet, right alongside your dignity. you didn't think it was possible to sink this low. what the fuck is wrong with him? itâs one thing to feed you and bathe you and dress you, but this? this is another level of degrading. it's disgusting. he can't do this.
but no matter how much you whine or cry, promising that youâre sorry for running and that youâll never do it again, he wonât leave. you knew he was a control freak but this... you didn't think he'd strip you of this much dignity. you didn't think he was this cruel.
 clearly he is. it seems privacy is a thing of the past.
even in the bathroom.
âyouâre lucky i didnât put you in diapersâ he says with an almost mocking amount of nonchalance, âdonât make me change my mind.â
And though thatâs enough to scare you into trying, you have too much stage fright to make yourself go.
after about thirty minutes of nothing, he finally concedes. with a heavy sigh, he lets you out of the bathroom, rolling his eyes as you sob in relief.
a sharp swat lands on your already bruised ass, making you jump.
âbrat.â he hisses, âcome, itâs time for bed.â
you follow without complaint.
â
the next morning is predictably just as humiliating. you wait in your bedâŠcribâŠwhatever it is, for him to come get you for breakfast, which he once again hand feeds you in little pieces. he brings your dish to the sink once youâre finished, grabbing something from the counter. something pink and plastic.
ah. a sippy cup. awesome.
âyouâll drink from this for the rest of the day. i expect you to finish one every hour. when youâre ready to go like a good girl, you can come get me and weâll try again, am i understood?â he asks.
and though youâd like to kick, scream and tell him he can shove the sippy cup up his ass, youâre not in any position to argue.
the first few cups are fine. youâre able to get by with only a little discomfort, but after the fourth your bladder starts tingling dangerously. you have to cross your legs and bite your lip, squirming uncomfortably on his lap as he feeds your lunch.Â
you do your best to ignore the bulge that grows in his pants as an outcome.
after lunch, while heâs cleaning up, you try sneaking to the bathroom, hoping that maybe you can sneak in and out without him noticing. but when you jiggle the handle you find itâs locked. the situation is only worsens when you sob, alerting your kidnapper of your disobedience.
he drags you to the couch and pulls you over his knee, ignoring your babbled pleas for mercy as he draws back his hand and lands a loud smack on your behind. he follows the first hit with twenty-four more, each one forcing your bladder to push against his thigh. the hits are far too precise for it to be accidental. no, heâs tormenting you on purpose.
you flex and strain as each hit rains down, sobbing and gripping his thigh for dear life. three times your bladder nearly spills, only kept at bay by your tensed belly and sheer willpower. by the time heâs finished youâre inconsolable. cramping and burning and aching to relieve yourself.
he watches patiently as you snivel and writhe, running a gentle hand over your now reddened ass. Patiently, he waits for you to stop crying, keeping his voice soft and low as he asks,
âdo you have something youâd like to ask me, y/n?â
the question makes your stomach twist. every organ and muscle in your body screams at you to concede, to bite the bullet and get it over with, just to relieve yourself of this misery.
but you value your pride, or whatâs left of it, and youâve never had a great sense of self preservation.
ânoâ you growl through gritted teeth, âfuck you.â
he pauses for a moment, likely determining how he should react, before ultimately sighing and running his fingers through his hair.
âI seeâŠâ he says, rather defeated, âI was hoping youâd come around on your own, but i suppose youâve forced my hand. itâs not healthy to be holding it for this long. i donât want you to get a utiâŠâ
forced his hand? what does he mean forced his hand?
you arenât given time to think about it before he hoists you over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. he walks up the stairs and down the hallway, steadily approaching a room you know unfortunately well.
his bedroom.
you struggle and writhe against him, sobbing and babbling out pleas for him to stop. you know what the bedroom means, and right now your bladder canât take that. heâs not actually going to make you-âhe canâtâ
the wind is knocked out of you as he throws you on the bed, along with, to your humiliation, a little pee. only a few drops, but itâs enough to get you kicking and screaming. If your fighting phases him at all though, he doesnât show it. he follows you onto the bed and pulls you into his chest with ease, peeling clothes off your flailing limbs. Shirt, bra, pants, panties - which he makes a snide remark about being ruined - until youâre left in only your socks.
âthis is the natural consequence of your stubbornness y/n.â he purrs, pinning you against his chest with a thick forearm so his hand can snake down to your cunt, âyou did this to yourself,â
âPlease!â you gasp as his fingers run through your folds, âplease let me go to the bathroom! iâll be a good girl! i promise! just⊠please!â the last word you heave out through a sob.
âthe time for that was hours ago, my love,â his thumb grazes dangerously over your clit. âjust relax and let it happen.â
Itâs all you can do not to scream when he digs the heel of his palm into your stomach, pushing against your bladder as his fingers begin working your little bud.
the first rush of pee falls out of you fast, and though you take control of your bladder fairly quickly, the accident still leaves a sizable puddle on your kidnappers lap. you look up in horror as he groans.
âthats it.â he purrs, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, quickening his circles on your clit, âlet it out for me. wet the bed, darling.â
Humiliation burns hot on your face, hotter then it ever has in your life. You clench every muscle in your body, doing your best to rewind the coil in your stomach without much sucess. A long finger slips past your lips and sheaths itself in your warmth, making you cry out and dig your nails hard into his thigh.
he wastes no time, going straight for your g-spot, grinning against your neck as your bladder releases just a bit more. you sob as he pulses his finger over the spot, never moving out too far before pressing back into it. milking youâexcept your milk is pee.
a strangled scream passes your lips when the second finger joins the first, cozying up against it and aiding in itâs efforts to wring you dry. now, his pants are entirely soaked through and the sheets below you are damp with piss. and yet, he seems to be in heaven. languidly palming himself with the hand that isnât occupied in your cunt. groaning out strings of praises as you sob.
âoh baby, look what a mess youâve made.â he coos, breath hot against your neck, âyou just canât help yourself, huh? poor thing. thatâs alright, iâve got you. let me help~â
his fingers press deep into your pussy then, and you can feel the beginning of the end. you try with all your might to stop it, but you canât. the knot is tightâso, so tightâand youâre so close.Â
he must have noticed your clenching because you can feel his lips curl up against your neck. âare you gonna cum, baby?â he asks, pressing down harder on your lower stomach, âare you gonna cum and pee on me like a messy little brat? thatâs alright. iâll allow it just this onceâŠâÂ
all at once it becomes too much. the coil unwinds and your bladder empties all over the sheets. you buck and scream and beg for mercy as each contraction rolls through your body, cumming and pissing all over his fingers. youre so humiliated you feel like you might die. honestly, death might be preferable to listening to his moans.
he runs his hands through your hair as you come down, mumbling meaningless praise as you sob. in your mind shattered state itâs hard to make out much of anything, but you do manage to catch one of his sweet nothings.
âwhat a good girl⊠i think you should have accidents more often.â
