Warning/s: YANDERE. Noncon. Dubcon. Domestic Abuse. Captivity/Confinement. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Degradation. Verbal Abuse. Power Imbalance. Forced Submission. Psychological. Drugging. Smoking. (Let me know if I miss anything.)
Note/s: I'm just releasing my old drafts. Also! If anyone's interested in commissions, just email me on [email protected] or message me on discord @noirscrypt.
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It was unnerving, the way his breath lingered in the silence. Deep, steady, inescapable. A cruel reminder that you were trapped, that no matter how much you willed yourself to disappear, he would still be there. Watching. Waiting.
Harrison stood just a few steps away, his bare form illuminated by the dim glow of the bedroom light. He didn’t care about his nakedness—why would he? Shame was for men with something to fear. Something to lose. But you? You were the one with everything to lose.
You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, so you stared at the mirror instead—the one you’d failed to return earlier. A mistake. The reflection offered no escape, only a cruel, distorted echo of your reality. Every subtle shift of his body sent a fresh wave of nausea through you, your pulse a frantic, erratic rhythm beneath your skin.
You braced for what was coming.
It would be worse this time.
You knew it would be.
But Harrison is a kind man.
At least, that’s what the world believed.
The devoted husband who worked tirelessly to provide. The respectable man who never hesitated to help those in need. Neighbors adored him. Colleagues admired him. Strangers trusted him.
And every word of praise was another lock on your prison.
You had tried to escape. So many times. From the first moment he allowed you to step beyond the four walls of your confinement, to the night he paraded you around at his company’s year-end party. You had begged. You had pleaded. You had prayed.
But every attempt remained just that. An attempt.
A pathetic, meaningless struggle.
“I shouldn't have expected much from you.” His voice was eerily calm, the slow drag of his cigarette filling the room with the scent of burning tobacco. The ember glowed briefly before he flicked it away, the ashes scattering like dust. "It’s my fault for trusting a bitch like you."
Tears burned at your vision, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t even breathe.
It didn’t matter.
He was already moving.
Your fingers clenched around the duvet in a futile attempt at grounding yourself, but before you could even think of pulling away, his hand was on you—pinning you down with effortless strength.
"Tell me, my dear wife..." His breath ghosted against your ear, deceptively soft, mockingly affectionate. "What made you think Gina would help you find the ‘restroom,’ hm?"
A choked sob forced its way up your throat, your body trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut.
Wrong answer.
His grip tightened. Then, he flipped you over like you were nothing.
A sharp gasp left you as rough fingers seized your jaw, crushing against tender flesh. You whimpered, barely able to breathe, your mind screaming at you to run even as your body refused to move.
"Open your eyes and use your fucking words," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for defiance.
You forced your lashes to flutter open, pain splitting through your skull as you met his gaze. Cold. Pitiless.
Your lips parted, but all that came out was a broken, shattered whisper.
"Dun... no... please..."
Harrison laughed. Laughed.
Low and mocking, as if your suffering was nothing more than a joke meant for his amusement.
"Clearly, you haven’t learned your lessons."
You shook your head frantically, sobbing now, chanting his name like a prayer. A plea. A final act of desperation.
