in which your masochistic stalker tries to break into your house, but Youre an ex military officer; youre trained on torture.
cw: choking, knife(play?), blood(play?), suggestive content, sub and maso char, femdxm sadist reader, gagging, descriptions of gore, hitting
art credit: @pyanyasha on x
3:00 AM on the dot—the moment your stalker makes his first mistake, walking into your house.
His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob, the ice cold feel when he turned it made his muscles twitch in excitement. He knew exactly what he was getting into. You think he didn't know what you used to be? It's so frustrating—knowing you could have so much control over him, make him feel such aching, nauseating pain without feeling a drop of remorse. Not everybody can handle doing something like that, not someone as beautiful as you, and that's why he's so desperate.
He drags his feet as he steps onto your wooden floor.
please hear me.. please please please
and then he feels it. a sharp stinging sensation that sends his whole body into a seizure-like state. He falls to the ground, almost foaming at the mouth once he sees your face above him. Then suddenly, his vision goes dark.
Of course you tased him—with a military grade taser sure—but it was all you had on hand! it was self defense!
You had suspected someone was watching you for a while, and with your past, you knew it'd happen sooner or later. But.. who is this guy? He's not buff, in fact quite the opposite. He's the type of guy you'd see at school and think he does nothing but watch porn and jerk off all day, but still somehow attractive.
You drag him down to the basement and tie him up to a chair, classic kidnapper style, like how you'd see it in a movie. Hands behind the chair, and ankles taped to the legs of the chair. ten minutes later.. he finally wakes up with a gasp, his voice trembling as he lets out a whiny exhale. his face is pale as if he were undead, but he quickly regains that color—turns red even, when he looks up to meet your gaze.
"whats your name." you ask, but it doesn't sound like a question..more like a demand
he shuddered in both fear and excitement.
"Hi.." he murmured, his voice was brittle and honeyed. the corner of his lips quirked up into a dreadfully awkward smile.
what a fucking weirdo.
You take slow strides toward him, invading his personal space as you loom over him; a predator hunting its prey. He's loving every moment of this.
"who sent you."
he stared blankly at you for a moment, eyelashes batting in innocence.
"haah..I-I'm not gonna tell you shit!"
he shudders, suddenly he takes on the role of some evil spy.
suspicious
You think, but, he is a man who just broke into your house... better to be safe than sorry, right? So, you grab a pocket knife out of the thin pockets of your pajamas, and flip it open, revealing the sharp blade. With slight hesitation, You gently press the blade to his jawline, gliding it down to his neck.
"Are you sure youre not gonna tell me anything?"
he nods, painfully aware of how the knife pressed to his neck digs deeper into his skin everytime a muscle twitches.
You lean in close to whisper into his ear.
"You know what i could do to you with this knife?" you notice his ears turning beet red, but don't find a means to point it out.
"I could skin you alive until youre a walking scab, make leather out of your skin..." You pull back, his ear now sweaty from the condensation of your breath, and you look at his face—that expression. his eyes were blown wide open, cheeks flushed, sweat dripping down his face, and lips slightly parted; drool threatening to spill out of them. it was unlike anything you've seen before in a torture victim, and it just pushes you further, to see what other expressions he could make. on a whim, You take the knife away from his neck to cut the rope holding his arms hostage. He lets out a shaky exhale and moves his hands from behind the chair to hover over his lap, you watch as he looks at the red marks that cover his wrists, and you swear you could see his mouth curve up into a smile..until he bites his lower lip. You grab one of his hands, and you take note of how his breathing gets heavier and quicker, so much so that his shoulders start to oscillate up and down. You intertwine your fingers with his. His fingers are long and slim.. perfect for—
not right now. focus.
"...or, i could take these pretty hands of yours and saw them off, put em in a little jar so i could use them whenever I want to."
You meet his stare, but it's fleeting, as soon as his eyes meet yours, they suddenly face the ground—as if he were scared his gaze would pierce daggers.
"really.." he gulps, "w-what would you use them for—urk!" he twitches harshly once he feels your blade slice deep into the palm of his hand. He watches you for a moment, but once he feels Your warm tongue contrast his cold hand, his world starts to spin. You lap up the blood, slow, careful licks that forces him to slap his other hand over his mouth. The metallic and salty flavor of his blood infiltrates your mouth, and you feel your eyes start to flutter shut.
this is crazy, why are you enjoying this?!
but his noises were too good to stop. You suck on his cut, trying to get every last drop of blood out of it, forcing a muffled whimper out of him. You can only imagine the face he's making right now. eyes squinted shut so hard that there's tears peeking out of the corners of them, hand covering his mouth, chest heaving, his curly hair stuck to his forehead...as good as it is in your mind, you have to see for yourself. seperating yourself from the makeout session with his palm, you peek over to see him just as you thought, but it's better in person.
He has a giant tent in his pants, one that you surprisingly haven't noticed yet, and he scoots around in his seat to hide how his jeans begin to darken from him leaking.
we all know that seduction is a great method for getting intel out of someone, women have been doing it to men for years...so this isn't that bad.. right?
Your hand finds its way to his again, interlocking fingers, but then Your other hand moves towards his face, grabbing his other hand that's covering his mouth. it's wet and warm from how hard he was breathing into it, but it doesn't matter to you, all you want to do right now is see how far you could push him, until he breaks. You lean in close, your breaths mingling, you can tell how nervous he is. the way his hands squeeze yours, how his breath hitches every time you move. so you step back, and tie his wrists together behind the chair again, it's more fun this way; he can't stop you.
"i'll make a deal with you." you pick the knife up from the floor, "i'll untie these ropes if i can't get you to confess anything within 30 minutes, but if you do, then i guess i'll just have to have my way with you until you wither and die down here." you wave the knife in his face. You see the way his lips press into a thin line, he knows youre getting serious now, and it's exhilarating.
"y-yeah. sure. deal."
The corner of your lips perk up into a smile, "Good boy.." you purr, setting an alarm on your phone before you swiftly lean in, smashing his lips into yours.
MINUTE 1.
Your lips move and mold together as if they were made to. it took no effort to make the kiss sloppy and wet; his piled up saliva instantly poured into your mouth. he suddenly whimpers into your mouth. the slick and warm feeling of your tongue gliding flat against his bottom lip is enough to make him cum right then and there, but he doesn't, instead he parts his lips, letting your tongue slide into his mouth to circle around his. you lick slowly into his mouth before biting hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood and a whine out of him. What he didn't expect, was how Your hands fit perfectly around his neck, and how you squeezed so hard he flinched.
You pull back from the kiss, a string of saliva following you as you watch the rest of it fall down the corner of his lip.
"p-please.." he whimpers, but his voice comes out in cracks, broken.
but what really gets you concerned is how his eyes roll to the back of his head, how he doesn't make an effort to pull Your hands off of him; wiggle around in the chair, or how he lets out a moan when his face turns purple and his eyelids start to flutter shut.
You take your hands off of his neck, he comes back to life with a sharp inhale.
"haah.. do it again miss.. harder." he chuckles, voice whiny and broken.
now this i didn't expect.
"Miss? i'm not an old lady you know." you tease, flicking his forehead
"i'm sorry" he gasps, "what should i call you then?.."
"i'm sure you already know my name."
he does, but not in the way you think
you grab the pocket knife again, and without hesitation, you move to sit onto his lap, straddling him.
"urk! uhm.. i-" his voice cracks, his bulge presses hard against your thigh, catching you both off guard.
"You what?" you look into his eyes—there it is again, it's starting to piss you off, how he refuses to make eye contact. You grab his face and force him to look at you "look at me, or else i'll slice big X's into your eyes, then you won't be able to look at anything anymore." your nails dig into his cheeks.
he clears his throat, but it still cracks. "do it."
MINUTE 10.
Your eyes widen in disbelief, the nerve he has. But besides that, you do plan on cutting him up a little. so you bring the knife up to his face, pressing hard enough to draw blood, and slowly drag down, the slice gapes open to where you can see white, not enough to see fat though, it's perfect. The sting sends shivers through his whole body, the cold smoothness of the knife electrifying him.
blood instantly starts to pool up into the cut, to drip down his face. He chokes on his own gasp when you dive towards his neck. You place open mouthed kisses that follow the trail of his blood spill, licking it up as you go, wet patches forming along his neck. he lets out a strangled sob at your movements, hips grinding against his. blood drops into the crook of your nose; you recognize the metallic flavor as it drips into your mouth, but that doesn't stop you. You suck hard onto his neck, and bite it, working on the singular spot until it turns as purple as his face was earlier.
that's not going away for a while.
"F-Fuck!" he sputters, your name leaves his lips in short gasps. You bring your lips off of his neck with a "pop!", and he takes the opportunity to look at your face, blood dripping from Your nose down to your lips..and you look at his. eyelids heavy and kiss swollen lips parted slightly, the way he looked at you was lewd, and it made your stomach twist with feelings you've never felt before.
"You wanna taste?" you rasped, dragging Your pointer finger and middle finger against his cut. he hisses, a crease forming between his eyebrows as you dig into his cut. but before he could open his eyes, your fingers were already in his mouth. he starts gagging when you forcefully press on his tongue, and you chuckle. he looks like he's struggling, having a hard time not throwing up on your fingers, and you were right on the money. he struggles in the chair, whining and gagging all at once,
"sto-ugh-op" he chokes out, tears well up in his eyes before spilling out onto his face. his nose and eyes start to flush pink, he's crying?
"i'll stop when you tell me who sent you."
"im gonna.." he hiccups, and at that you pull your fingers out of his mouth, you wipe them off on his shirt. You want answers, but you want a stranger to throw up on you even less.
MINUTE 20.
You watch carefully as he sniffles, you assume a few tears slipped out because he was gagging so hard, it's hard to tell with him though. he sits still in his chair now, breathing heavily, drool spills from the corner of his mouth, and his face is stained with tears, blood.
"gosh... Youre a mess." You say, but it was perfect. and you felt that you were getting close to him confessing.
yet after all of this, he still isn't satisfied. not enough choking, not enough cutting, not enough slapping or bruising. he has an insatiable appetite for pain, he's so close, but so far. so he comes up with an idea. if he could just get you mad enough to do something even more extreme, he wouldn't have to go through all this fucking edging. hesitantly, he spits in your face, it landing right in between your brows.
You stand up and stumble backwards, you grip the knife harder, knuckles turning white.
"the fuck?"
You wipe your face with the back of your hand—a disgusting mixture of saliva and blood residue sticking to you. You were so sure he was enjoying this, which pissed you off even more, but now he's acting out? You gotta put him in his place don't you think? suddenly, you lunge towards him, kicking his chair to the ground. he hits the cold concrete with a thud and a groan.
You squat down next to him. he lies on his side, looking up at you as if you were a god, almost drooling at your natural scent, lip bleeding.
"stop looking at me like that!" you grab him by the hair, his scalp turning red at the force of your grip. he holds back a smile.
BANG!
You slam his head against the floor, his whole body shakes as he lets out a choked sob.
"what is it? are you still having fun?" You hiss
his vision is blurry now, yet, you look like an angel amidst the pain.
harder
he wants to say, but he can't get his mouth to move, too caught up in his own sick aphrodisiac.
BANG!
again.
BANG!
and again,
BANG!
and again.
"haah..." he moans, blood drips down his forehead, and his hips jerk against nothing. He relishes in the dirty, physical degradation, fuck. he's on the verge of cumming right there. the world spins and he feels his eyes roll to the back of his head.
You whip your head around, and see the bulge in his pants, bigger than ever. finally, you have a good idea. You sit on the ground next to the bleeding man, and lean towards his crotch, tracing his print. he twitches aggressively, waking up from his trance, he's scared now.
"what—"
"this is your problem isn't it? if you tell me everything you know.. maybe i'll put it in my mouth?" You tease. suddenly he can't breathe, stuck between blowing his cover and getting a blowjob from the love of his life.
5.
"I..."
4.
You thumb the clothed tip, precum coating your finger.
3.
He lets out a choked sob, body trembling violently.
2.
"cmon.."
1.
"Fuck.."
0.
the alarm you set on your phone buzzes, echoing your ringtone. You stand up and turn it off.
keeping your word, You bring the chair upright again, and untie the ropes.
"Get out of here."
a/n: hi guys yes there will be a part two ( <- click on "part 2"!!) i'm not done with this loser 🥹✌️ also i'm not that Good at smut so forgive My mistakes lell
PSA: this is a work of fiction. pls do not attempt to do anything mentioned unless both parties consent and are mentally stable, consent is very attractive. and yall if You suspect someone is stalking You please call the police or tell someone You trust life is not a fanfic unfortunately 😅 stay safe - peach <3
You were inspecting a hand crafted dagger you found in his armory. It was ornate and a clear labor of love with detailed golden filigree dancing up the length of the Damascus style folded steel blade. The handle grip was equally fancy in its leather, gold, and gemstones.
You knew Sylus’s smith work even without spotting the silly little crow etching that was hammered into the base of the blade just before the steel cooled too much. The little crow signature was because of you of course. You were affronted by the notion that an artist wouldn’t sign his work and carefully used the knowledge of smith-crafting he gave you to make him a small crow brand.
He’s sharpened his little art piece to deadly perfection, but even so you took the few short steps to where your beloved sat going through the routine work of cleaning his guns.
Sylus looked up at you, brow lifting slightly as he saw the dagger twirl in your fingers. He knew what you wanted without a single word being spoken ass he merely shook his head with a soft huff and set aside his gun and cloth. A single large hand patted his leg and you plopped down right onto your waiting throne. You felt his hand ghost up your calf to your thigh and settle on the swell of your hip.
“It’s pretty.” You complimented the blade, humming as the armory lighting glinted off the polished steel.
“You think so?” Sylus preened. He always seemed to blossom under your little praises. Just a light dusting of pink to the tips of his ears. His craft, his skill, his worth- he needed to hear your praise for it all.
“Mm.” You hum, taking his hand.
He watched you curiously as you brought the blade to his skin. In a quick swipe, the blade cut into his palm. Instantly dark red beaded along the broken skin.
“What…“
Sylus’s furrowed brows and barely uttered confusion didn’t stop you whatsoever as you then put the blade to your own palm. You ignored the burning sting of your skin being pierced as you examined the blood pooling in your own palm.
Setting the blade aside, both of your blood staining it, you clasped your bloody hand against Sylus’s. Finally, you flashed a Cheshire grin at him.
“It’s like those stories. Bonds cemented in a blood exchange.” Is your only explanation.
The rich laughter you pulled from Sylus was all you needed to know the whole thing was worth it. You felt his large hand shift to link your fingers together, gripping your hand more tightly. The throbbing pain from the wound hardly phased you.
“Our bond is something deeper than blood, kitten, but if this makes you happy to do so… I’m perfectly willing to submit to all your bonding rituals.”
You felt his lips trail along your hairline. When he did finally release your hand, his wound had already healed. He grunted at that fact, clearly wanting to maintain his “matching” cut.
“It’s not my fault you heal freaky fast.” You huff, holding up your palm that was still bleeding, albeit slowly as your body worked to clot the wound.
“Now you’ve gone and hurt your pretty hand though, sweetie.” Sylus lamented on your behalf.
Taking your wrist, he dragged your palm closer until you felt the wet heat of his tongue drag up the length of the cut. You gasped, other hand curling into the fabric of his shirt on his chest.
“Im just helping you clean the wound…” sylus murmured.
“Pretty sure warm water and soap is better than a tongue…” you can’t help but reply, but the unsteadiness in your tone only made him grin.
“Sure… but you seem to like this better. So do I.”
He licked your palm again, this time basking in the tiny noise you held back in your throat.
“Do you like the taste of blood or something? You’re never beating the vampire allegations.” You muttered.
“And if I said I did? Would you become my willing feast?”
The stare Sylus gave you made an all too familiar heat spark to life in your lower belly. You felt a dizzying sense of all this happening already. A blur between the present and a life no longer yours. Your bloodied hand gravitated to his cheek, cupping the warm skin so tenderly as your thumb brushed along his upper lip.
“Only if you promise to share yourself in turn.” Your teasing thumb pressed past his lips, brushing along blunt human teeth. There should be fangs there.
“Consider it another ritual… bound in blood, so too do we sustain one another. Does that sound sufficiently ritualistic?” You added.
Sylus nibbled on your thumb, content in the way this has all become another means of devouring one another. Indulging desire in a way that made the power in his right eye ache.
Sylus only answered when he stood up, you in hand, and started the familiar walk back to your shared bedroom.
“Sure, we can go with that. I have a few suggestions of my own.”
You grinned, weaving your arms around his neck. You knew exactly where this was going. You were kindred spirits after all.
