ghost bringing the lads round to “meet the missus” and by meet the missus, he means showing them your wedding photos after letting them see the pretty girl from the bar still chained up to his bed
aaaaand by wedding photos it’s blurry polaroids of your sleeping body, his lips smushed over yours through his mask. crude panty shots with the camera shoved under the hem of your shirt. close ups of his scarred, butchered hands groping your tits, gripping your throat and slipping his fingers in your drooling mouth…
better than home (kidnapper!simon) - you had seen enough horror movies to know that being kidnapped meant being on the news, being butchered, and being a cold case. but simon wasn't like that. except for the bruises he left when he took you, his touch had gentle. kind in a way that someone would brush their cat.
you flinched under his touch, but he just simply shushed you. "not gonna break a thing on ya, angel." that was his name for you. angel. he said that it was like you were given to him fro heaven, "if i do, i give ya the right to put a knife between my ribs."
it was unnerving to say the least. in the tiny home you both shared, locks on the windows, you had never seen a front door that needed a key to unlock from the outside. you tried getting out, but simon was simply so much bigger and stronger, that he didn't need to hurt you herd you back into a safer place.
"don't need to think about much anymore. safer here." he said in his gruff voice. you didn't know what kind of life this man had lived, but with the hunting knife on the coffee table, the well-used rifle over the fireplace and the old army formals in his closet. you knew that there was a story.
it didn't sink in till the first week, but you didn't have to worry about anything. you moved through the house on your own, when you scurried into rooms simon sometimes didn't follow. it was like he was bird-watching. keeping a close eye and admiring you. except you weren't exactly a free bird, rather a delicate beauty in a shiny cage.
you were surprised that simon had your favourite snacks in the pantry, even the same brand of plant-based milk you enjoyed. it was like he knew everything about you, and yet he was a total mystery.
"scary world out there." simon said, kept his distance from you in the recliner while you were curled up in the couch. you had taken a liking to a black and white checkered flannel blanket. it reminded you of the one back home, that you wondered if he just broke in a took it. he eyed you, which made it hard to read one of your many books, "pretty things like you need to be protected... bad men out there." as if this massive mountain of a man wasn't one of those so-called bad men.
you were in no place to argue. you still felt like you were in a spring locked trap and one wrong move would have it clamped down on you. that this was just some sick game before simon buried your body in the field behind the house.
"when can i go home?" you asked, finding your voice.
"this is better than home."
"are you going to kill me?" you asked before you swallowed the lump in your throat.
he shook his head, "no, ma'am. never." sounded like wedding vows rather than an answer. your curiosity only grew with each day. when you finished the books he brought you, he simply put them back in a bag and returned them from where they came from and came back with new ones.
"saw them on the shelf at the library, thought a woman like you would like them." he gave a curt nod as he dropped the canvas bag by your little nest of blankets on the floor by the television. you hadn't been able to watch television yet. primarily busied with sleeping, books, puzzles and notebooks where you had been writing.
and while it started a journal in the event the police found you. it had become more about fictional stories. for your personal pleasure. you thought about being a writer as a child, but the grind of corporate work in your adulthood seemed to dash that dream.
"next time." you said, feeling a little bold, "can you get some science fiction books too...." it felt uneasy to make any demands. he was your captor.
"well then, angel. be good for me then." he said, smiled under that mask. you looked over and made a face at him. you scampered off back into your nest of books and puzzles. maybe he was right, this was better than home. <3
a/n: this is unwell, i hope you enjoyed it. thank you!!
TW NONCON, DRUGGING MENTION KIDNAPPING/STALKER AND GENERALLY DARK/FUCKED UP BEHAVIOR
Soft kidnapper that wants you to be content and safe + strict kidnapper that will not hesitate to punish you (except it’s ghoap)
SoftKidnapper!Soap cooing in your ears softly during the punishment because “‘m sorry baby… I know it hurts… Almost over. Almost done.” While StrictKidnapper!Ghost scoffs and says “you shouldn’t have misbehaved if you didn’t want to be punished”
Ghost having a dacryphilla kink and preferring to overstimulate and be rough, degrading and acting as if it was “their right” to do so. Soap taking their time and treating it like a gift to be able to touch “their darlin’ bonnie”.
Hating the Soap for treating you like some soft doll that can’t fucking hurt anything and incapable of anger, and preferring Ghost some weeks
Hating the Ghost for being so rough and cruel and treating you like property, and preferring Soap some weeks
Curling up and sobbing on Soap’s lap after Simon slapped you for talking back while he rubs your back softly but doesn’t say you didn’t deserve it.
Ghost getting jealous because he’s insecure and making sure he has alone time with you because Soap is charismatic and likable and he can hide the dark desires inside him, but he’s a terrible man and he knows it, doesn’t bother to hide it. So he degrades you instead. Sometimes sprinkles in praise. But all of it is about your body.
Ghost being so “closed off” that the first time you groveled and begged, is when you could Ghost kissed you for the first time when he fucked you. (You only get that if you’re behaved. Sometimes he’ll make you beg. Sometimes he’ll just leave you needy altogether.)
Ghost knowing exactly what you want and using it against you because he is a man that finds out how you tick and how to use it against you.
Soap who puts you on a pedestal of “innocence” and believes that you’re the other half of their depraved souls.
Ghoap who teamed up to kidnap you.
Johnny went on the date, Simon drugged the drink, Johnny babysat her and “walked her home”, Simon who was there in the alley waiting for them with a van.
can’t get stalker!simon out of my head, well i guess more kidnapper!simon. here’s some more thoughts on this!
there was something uneasy settling in your bones. the contrast of simon’s icy stare and the warmth of the bath he’s drawn for you, leave you feeling disoriented. or maybe it’s something else all together - you would put it past him to slip something in your food.
the bath water is like a warm embrace, slowly squeezing you tightly. it reminds you of your mother - cozy and familiar, but any degree hotter and it burns and chars your flesh.
simon lathers your body in soap and the smell is nauseatingly sterile. where does he manage to even get soap that smells so putrid. as his hands slide over your body, your heart hammers in your chest. you know their gentle traverse is a facade, you’ve felt the pain they can cause. he must be thinking the same because his digits trail up to your neck and settle on the purple marks he left there recently. his eyes slip shut and he sucks in what seems like a breath of relief. as if he’s soaking up the sun on a summer day. bile rises fast in your throat and your stomach twists painfully at the notion of him relishing in how he’s hurt you. you’re watching him drink in the sight of your marked skin.
“god, you’re so beautiful, love,” he croons into the still air of the bathroom. “d’ya know i think you get more lovely each day i see you.” his words are sickeningly sweet, yet there is venom lacing them.
you so badly wish he would wrap his hands around your neck and just squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and-
you try to shake yourself from those thoughts, you should want to hurt him. you should want to knock him over the head and run for your life, but you don’t. if you just close your eyes, you can pretend he’s your lover washing you clean and showering you with love and praise. you could strain out all the good bits from his cocktail of poison if it meant someone would love you - even if it was evil and insidious.
after all, no one was coming to save you, so you might as well soak up what little good you can.
it's storming here so you know what that means!! storm fic time!
kidnapper!simon with reader who has a fear of lightning/storms below the cut
cw; kidnapped situation obvs, reader is mid punishment (in a cage) for previously being bad, no smut
You squeeze your eyes shut at the next flash of lightning through the windows, letting out a small whimper, your knees closely tucked under you, gripping the bars of the cage helplessly. You feel exposed with only the thin bars of your cage surrounding you in this large living room.
You let out a scream at the first sharp crack of a lightning bolt, hands coming up to cover your ears.
Seeing movement in the corner of your eye, you shrink away when you see the man who locked you in this cage in the first place, Simon, walking over to you from the bottom of the stairs, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. You watch with wide eyes as he crouches down in front of the bars and wonder how he heard you over this weather.
"What are you playing at, Lovie? Disturbing my peaceful sleep," He scolds, then tilts his head and lazily smirks. "You trying to get my attention, is that it?"
You momentarily wonder how he could sleep through this before your focus goes back to what's happening outside when there's another bright flash. You don't talk back to Simon like you usually would. You don't even scowl at him. You hug your legs and hide your face against them as your eyes get watery and you let out another whimper as more thunder grumbles outside.
Simon watches you and wonders if you learnt your lesson from earlier and now you were sulking in hopes of being let out of your cage until another crack of lightning makes you flinch and he realises your fear currently has nothing to do with him.
"Simon!" You yelp, terrified and seeking help from the last person you would willingly want help from.
Simon immediately unlocks and opens your cage, big arms accepting you as you quickly crawl through the open door to him and wrap your arms around his waist. He rubs the back of your head and your upper back soothingly as he holds you tightly against him.
"Don't like storms, eh? You wanna come upstairs? Sleep in my bed with me?" He continues when he feels you quickly nod your head. "You learned your lesson? Only good girls can come upstairs, no matter how scared."
Another snap of lighting makes you dig your nails into his back, not that it affects him in the slightest, as you let out a cry, tears freely leaking out of your eyes.
"Yes! yes, please! I've learned my lesson! I'll be good, Simon! Please don't leave me down here!" You beg, sniffling.
He pulls back and wipes the tears off your cheeks with his thumbs, then kisses your forehead.
"Atta girl, c'mon."
He moves your arms to around his neck, then lifts your legs to wrap them around his waist before he carries you up to his bedroom, sly grin on his face at how you cling to him, hiding your face in his neck. This is just more evidence to him of why you need him, another reason of why he's never letting you go. He thinks about how he can use future storms against you if you misbehave again.
You lunge under the covers when he places you on his bed, covering your face with the blanket and ignoring the chuckle he lets out as you try to calm down and forget about the storm.
He crawls in beside you and pulls you against his chest, the top of your head just peaking out of the blanket allowing him to leave a soft kiss there before he lays his head back on his pillow and closes his eyes.
"If only I could control the weather, Sweetheart, I would've had you crawling into my bed a lot sooner."
kidnapper!simon who still had suspicions that his lovie was scared of him, plotting inside her pretty head to escape him until her abusive family manage to find her and she asks, no begs, simon to kill them instead of letting them take her ‘home’
You wake up in inches, still half asleep when you realise, these are not your sheets, this is not your bed. It’s only then you realise your wrists are tied above you, bound in a black rope that’s taut to the headboard.
You do what anyone would, struggle but the shifting highlights another issue…there’s rope wrapped around your chest, framing your tits, sliding over your wide open thighs. Immobile. Trapped.
“You’re awake” a gruff voice says from somewhere, “how’s your head pet?”
You try and respond, demand whoever this is lets you go, fury sliding through your veins but all that leaves your mouth is a jumbled mess and a whine.
The man laughs, “easy now, you were drinking like it was the end of the world last night.”
You moan, fragments returning, a house party, cheap vodka…a callused hand stroking your face, your eyes snap open.
The man in front, well, over you is big, corded muscle that speaks to destruction, mask covering the lower half of his face.
“It’s alright” he soothes, rubbing his thumb over a cheek “been watching you for a while dove, you and your pathetic boyfriend.”
You suck in a breath “he doesn’t treat you like you need hey?” His thumb continuing its gentle stroke of your cheek, you can’t help but lean into it.
“I watched you, get absolutely shitfaced, drag him into the bathroom” he chuckles lowly, “barely had time to pull the shower curtain across before you were in there.”
Your face heats, his thumb starts stroking your bottom lip.
“You were so dirty, in that tiny skirt, begging him to fuck you over the sink.”
You make an indignant noise and he shushes you placatingly.
“But he wouldn’t, would he? Not even when you slipped your flimsy excuse for knickers off.”
You try and turn your head, his grip turns mean “ah, ah, eyes on me love.”
“It was easy after that, following you, watching you get even more plastered, especially when you started to grind against me in that short little skirt, no knickers on”
You stare up at him, wide eyed as he traces a hand down your neck and over your chest before pinching one of your nipples hard and making you gasp.
“Thought I was your useless boyfriend didn’t you?”he coos condesendingly as he continues hand sliding over your hip and between your spread thighs. “Didn’t even notice I’d slipped something in your drink…silly dove.”
His fingers find your clit and tap gently; you buck at the sensation “there she is” he grins, at least, you think he does from under the mask.
“So I brought you back here, made sure you wouldn’t hurt yourself” a finger circling your hole, barely slipping inside, making you whine impatiently.
“Needy” he huffs at you, indulgent.
“See I did you a favour dove, taking you from that pathetic excuse of a man. He don’t treat you like you need…like the little whore you are.” Two fingers suddenly buried inside you, stretch almost burning.
“No” he coos as he fucks his fingers in and out of you, revelling in the wet sounds coming from your pussy and the broken gasps escaping your mouth.
“Doesn’t give this little cunt what it needs.”
It’s overwhelming, it’s simultaneously too much and not enough, eyes going glassy as the heel of his palm rubs against your clit.
“Don’t worry dove, I’ll take such good care of you” he grunts, speeding up, chuckling when you babble at him.
“I’ll treat you how you need, keep you nice and docile on my special drugs, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”
A soundless nod, orgasm so close.
“Course you would” he chuckles “perfect. Little. Dove.”
You come, squeezing around his fingers so tightly he swears under his breath, fucking you through the aftershocks languidly before he shoves his fingers in your mouth.
“Suck.” He demands and you lave your tongue over the digits in your mouth “thas a good girl.”
Your eyelids start to droop and he chuckles “that’s it dove, back to dreamland” he hoovers over you, cock pressing at your entrance.
“I’ll just take what I need. You don’t worry about it.”
