Soft laughter and cuddles that devolve into him pinning me down as he degrades me and tells me how much he loves me in the same breath while ruthlessly pounding into me until I'm nothing more than a mess for him.
How do I explain that my rape & kidnapping kinks largely derive from a deep insecurity that people only pretend to want me around out of socially obligated politeness or pity. That every relationship might just be a kind farce, that maybe I’m just a chore to keep around, or a charity project, and I’ll never know for sure.
It’s the idea that someone could, in such an overwhelming way, desire me. So much so that they’d break social, moral, and literal law to have me. It doesn’t matter how much I protest— they won’t be deterred. This is purely for them, not me. It’s an expression of Want so raw and ugly and selfish that it leaves no room in my mind for doubt, and all I can think is, “Huh. They’re not pretending.”
for me, the ultimate fantasy is being raped by someone who loves me. someone who just can't help himself around me, he needs me soooo bad. someone who praises me while he holds me down and forces me to take his cock. calls me his good girl, pretty little bunny, doing so good for him, making him feel so fucking good. someone who wants to take care of me, even while i'm crying and begging him to stop. who brushes my tears away and mumbles reassurances so soft and sweet in my ear. who helps me cum over and over and over. who wants me to feel just as good as he does, even if i don't want it. who cums inside me, telling me he's gonna knock me up and breed me so i can never leave him. i need someone who rapes every last thought out of my head, and then holds me and kisses my forehead afterwards. who puts me back together again with so much love and care and gentleness. who promises that he only rapes me because he loves me so much. he doesn't once apologize. one day, he'll convince me that this is for the best and i'll stop fighting him. until then, he's happy to keep raping me. it's for my own good.
There’s really nothing like being manhandled to remind you how helpless you really are. Being pinned down, being shoved against the wall, having their hand around your throat, being bent in half when you’re being fucked. It’s all play, of course. And thank god it’s play, right? Because you really wouldn’t get away if someone was doing this to you. You really would be helpless under them. You would just have to take it and cry and whimper until they were done fucking you. Until they had satisfied themselves enough with your body to let you go. You would be a helpless little sex toy that would take whatever they want, because you don’t have a choice. Really makes you think, huh?
thinking about waking up with someone bigger n stronger on top of me shushing me n petting my hair like “shhh its okay, ive got you, just relax for me” while they force my legs apart
being physically restrained and forcibly made out with…….feeling his hand around my throat to stop me from moving my face away from him……getting resigned to my fate so all i can do is cry while his tongue violates my mouth….and maybe he licks up my tears afterwards idk……
After I'm done abusing you, I let you cry for some minutes. I take pity on you. I gently rub your back. I ask you if you need anything. You don't reply. I tell you to stay put. You know your place, so you do. I come back with a glass of water and a blanket. I hand you the water and I tell you to drink it. You look at me. You can't trust me, but you've been crying all night long. You figure you need it, so you drink. I cover you up with the blanket. I rub your back, I run my fingers through your hair, I caress your thighs. You feel dirty. Hollow. Broken
I tell you to take it slow. Drink your water. I'll be right back. I go to the bathroom and turn the shower on. I let the bath tub fill up. I come back and tell you to come back with me. We enter the bathroom and it's nice and warm. You have a pit in your stomach. You're not sure of what I'll make you do. I tell you to get in the shower, as I grab the blanket and take it off for you. You get in. The water is warm. You sit there, letting the water wash away the memories. You try reaching out for the shampoo, but I get it for you. I start washing you
You're dirty. Full of bruises and marks. It hurts. I tell you that I'll tend to them later. I'll wash your hair first. You feel like I didn't enjoy hurting you. Maybe that's what I want you to think. You're having a hard time processing what happened. Why am I being so soft, caring and gentle? You know I'm just manipulating you. Trying to make you feel like I care about your well-being. Maybe I just don't want my toy to break. You're not sure of what to think. But you feel cleaner now
When we're done, I help you get out and dry yourself. You notice I don't even try touching you. You go sit on my bed. I got you some nice clothes. Too nice. They're also exactly your size. They're clothes that you would enjoy wearing, if not for the fact that your rapist is giving them to you. You put them on anyways. I come back after you're done dressing with some ice packs and painkillers. I take care of your bruises, and I got you some more water to help drink some pills. You trust me, and you do as I tell you. I want the best for you
I rub your back, and your legs. I take such good care of you. You don't even recognize me anymore, but it feels nice. You enjoy this. You almost want this to happen again, just so I could softly wash your hair again, just so I could make you feel like someone loves you and cares about you. The pit in your stomach starts to hurt again. I continue to take care of your bruises, and I also apply some antibiotic ointments on your cuts. It stings. I dress them with bandages, and you feel a lot better. You really feel like I'm doing this for you
I tell you to go to the bathroom and pee. I can tell you've been holding it. Your legs are shaking. Your body is squirming. I ask if you need any help. You tell me you got this. You go and take your time. You don't understand why I'm being so thorough, why I'm taking such good care of you. You assume I'm just trying to manipulate you, or to give you a false sense of security. And it's working. I come back and enter the bathroom just as you're done. You feel embarrassed. I wordlessly come next to you. Your adrenaline rushes. You begin to feel scared again. But I just take some toilet paper and clean you. You freeze in place. I ask if you need help getting up. You don't reply. I pull your underwear and pants back up, and I help you get up and come back to bed with me
I made you dinner. There's a lot of food. Your legs are shaking and you feel weak. There's that pit in your stomach. You wonder if it's hunger. Once you think about it, you realize you're starving, and you begin to eat. You feel shy and embarrassed. I tell you that you're doing well. That you did so well today. I tell you to eat slowly and to enjoy the food. I made it specially for you. You notice that it's a lot of food you like. I even brought you pastries and snacks. I get close to you, and tell you that I'll be leaving. I kiss the back of your neck. You want to cry. I tell you that I'll be back later. We'll do this all over again. And you better get used to it. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you. You'll learn to love your rapist. You'll enjoy being raped. You'll crave that feeling, and you'll feel so relieved once it's over, because you know I love you and will take good care of you
"How does that feel?" he prompts as his fingers dig into the tender muscles of my thighs. The pain rushes through me, devolving into warmness as he works out the soreness.
"Just sore," comes my soft reply as I bury my head against the pillow, wincing just slightly. He pauses, grabbing more balm before working up more towards my hips and butt where welts litter my pale skin. The more he touches me, the more the pain devolves into a soft heat that seeps into my core as I relax against the bed.
Strong fingers slide up my back, massaging it once more, almost absentmindedly as he shifts against me. The muscles of his larger frame press into me as he moves, straddling me from behind as he continues working out any sore spots from the previous session.
Despite the exhaustion seeping into my bones, his focus on my hips has me shifting restlessly for a moment. As I move, I feel the weight of his cock sliding between my ass cheeks. His massaging hands sink into my hips, gripping tightly to hold me in place as he rocks his hips back and forth. His hardening length grows hotter by the minute as I whine a bit, trying to shift away.
"No... so sore," I plea, whining a bit despite the neediness seeping into my voice, "can't... no more."
"I know, baby," he coaxes, shifting until I feel the rough veins of his shaft rubbing along the folds of my sore pussy, "Just the tip, it'll make you feel better, just for a minute..."
Already I can feel the tip sinking into my hole, gently at first, nudging and teasing as I whine and shake my head a bit in denial. As I go to argue, he quickly leans in, swallowing my complaints with a sloppy kiss. Our tongues wrestle for dominance as I feel our combined drool rolling down my chin.
The tip presses in a little deeper, my pussy soaking and clinging as every tiny roll of his hips leaves me shifting and pressing back against him, desperate for more despite the soreness throbbing through my body. He pulls back, a string of drool connecting our tongues as mine hangs out, panting a bit as I pout up at him.
"You say no, but your body is so desperate for me, absolutely begging," he praises, a smirk twisting his face into an almost mocking expression. When I shake my head in denial, he growls a bit and devours me in a hot kiss once more before plunging every inch of his cock deep inside.
Loud, keening cries are lost in the kiss as he rolls his hips, pressing in deeply to the point of pain as my nails rake down his arms. He shushes me between kisses as he maintains a steady but rough pace. Every thrust has his cock rubbing against my gummy walls in a way that has my brain short-circuiting. He releases me, letting me fall into a mess of tears and drool as I sob needily while I press back into his thrusts.
His cock bullies my already sensitive pussy, almost torturous in its slow but deep pace. My core tightens, pleasure coiling deep in my gut as incoherent sounds leave my throat, almost drowned out by the obscene squelching of my pussy swallowing his cock. "Shit," he groans, his body pressing more urgently against mine as his hand snakes around, fastening tightly against my throat as his hips pick up the pace.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as we both lose ourselves in the way my pussy clings to his cock, urging us into a frenzy. The soreness devolves into a hot burning as his harsh grip on my throat also tightens, making me dizzy and pushing me harshly over the edge as I cream around his cock.
He pulls me into him with a low moan, his hips pressing firmly against my ass as his touch becomes bruising. Heavy heat fills me as he pumps ropes of cum deep inside my pussy which causes me to whine and moan as my eyes roll into the back of my head. My whole body shivers beneath his, hyper-sensitive to every throb of his cock as he finishes pumping me full.
"That's my girl," he praises against my ear as his arms shift, wrapping me in a possessive embrace. My only response is to whine as I lay there, eyes glazed over and drool smeared along my chin.
I need someone to hold my hips down while they eat me out till I’m crying and begging them to stop bc it’s just to much for me to handle. They of course don’t listen, and start sucking harder maybe they even start fingering me along with it.
Thinking about lying on top of the little thing I just raped while it's crying and whimpering and I'm just chuckling softly and playing with it's hair while it's squirms under me only serve to massage my cock inside it
the kind of treatment he should give me whenever I throw a tantrum because no matter how I scream and thrash sooner or later my mind will give in and accept him as my superior
for me, the ultimate fantasy is being raped by someone who loves me. someone who just can't help himself around me, he needs me soooo bad. someone who praises me while he holds me down and forces me to take his cock. calls me his good girl, pretty little bunny, doing so good for him, making him feel so fucking good. someone who wants to take care of me, even while i'm crying and begging him to stop. who brushes my tears away and mumbles reassurances so soft and sweet in my ear. who helps me cum over and over and over. who wants me to feel just as good as he does, even if i don't want it. who cums inside me, telling me he's gonna knock me up and breed me so i can never leave him. i need someone who rapes every last thought out of my head, and then holds me and kisses my forehead afterwards. who puts me back together again with so much love and care and gentleness. who promises that he only rapes me because he loves me so much. he doesn't once apologize. one day, he'll convince me that this is for the best and i'll stop fighting him. until then, he's happy to keep raping me. it's for my own good.
tw ( yandere implied kidnapping stockholm syndrome use of pet names ( sweetheart ) )
i lost the request!! :( old draft hope u enjoy probably won't post for like a year now
you started to realize that you were starting to get used to him, that you even wanted him around.
you began to see it in the way you would no longer bang against locked doors, in how you caught yourself setting two plates instead of one, or how you knew the sound of his footsteps well enough to tell his mood before he even entered the room.
you had even stopped counting the days, something you'd do in hopes of escaping one day.
"...no."
your voice barely existed.
he looked up from where he was folding a blanket. "what is it?"
your eyes darted across the room, landing on the curtains, the bookshelf, the locked window. it was the same home he'd insisted wasn't a prison, but for the first time in weeks, your stomach lurched.
"i..." your voice cracked. "i'm..."
he was beside you before you noticed, his hand reached for yours, causing you to flinch.
"...don't." your breathing grew sharper, chest tightening until every inhale felt too small. "don't touch me."
his expression changed from confusion to concern. "you're shaking," he said, placing his hand on your shoulder. "what's wrong, sweetheart? you're acting differently."
"i'm supposed to hate you."
the words stumbled out before you could stop them, your eyes starting to feel like they were burning.
"i'm supposed to hate you." you laughed, except it sounded more like a sob. "why don't i hate you?" you pressed both hands against your temples, your vision now blurring.
"i keep waiting for you to come home," another shaky laugh. "i miss you when you're gone."
words couldn't explain how it made you feel so sick. you weren't supposed to feel this way with him.
"what's wrong with me?"
he stared, but then his face softened into something gentle. "nothing, there's nothing wrong with you."
"there is," your voice rose. "there has to be! you-... you kidnapped me."
"...i know."
"you took everything. i shouldn't..." your shoulders trembled. "i shouldn't feel safe with you."
your knees gave out before you realized you'd stopped standing. he caught you carefully, and this time you didn't even have the strength to pull away.
"i don't understand." your voice starting to dissolve into tears. "i don't understand why i keep wanting you here."
he held you, letting your forehead rest against his shoulder.
"you're overwhelmed."
you buried your face in your hands. "i don't know what's real anymore."
his jaw tightened and for the first time in days, weeks, maybe even months, he had no reassuring answer.
"you're safe right now."
he simply stayed where he was, his voice now quiet while your breathing remained uneven, your thoughts tangled so tightly they hurt.
you wanted to leave, you wanted him to let go, but... you wanted him to stay. you wanted him to hold you, you wanted him to show you all his love.
all of the contradictions clawed at your chest until you couldn't tell which feeling belonged to you anymore.
somehow, that frightened you more than anything.
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