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damagedspear · 7 months

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@immortalshield continued from here.

A rare moment of bravery from the Spear-- something he'd no doubt picked up from one of his closer friends and fellow comrades, a need to speak out against the horrible treatment and to make a stand for himself. This-- this wasn't training, this was sadism to the highest degree! And... yet...

... She heard him, and any and all bravery just slipped away like that, faster than someone could snap their fingers. For a moment, he didn't full process what he'd choked out under his breath, not until he heard those steps being taken towards him.

" I... " ... He couldn't say anything to defend himself, his eyes slowly drifting to the blood that was splattered across the tiled floor, all while those reapers stood attentively at Miranjo's own 'throne'. His own blood on these tiles... he could barely bring himself to strike back against the beasts no matter how hard he tried. He just kept locking up with fear-- but he'd trained for this, time and time again! So why was it... why was it he couldn't fight anymore? Quickly, Apeas's head ducked down the moment she approached, eyes slowly widening more and more. Ever since that wish had been made to let her come back... that wish that was stolen from Prince Despa and the Captain of the Underworld... Apeas once again found himself in Hell. Why, why did he try so hard to protect Lady Miranjo? After everything she's done to him?

Some would say he fell for her, others would say that perhaps it was some sick fascination, maybe him having genuine undying loyalty to her-- but Apeas knew deep down what it was, even if he'd locked it away if it meant coping with it all. He was afraid. Afraid of her, and what she could do. He'd seen it time and time again. Apeas had seen how effortlessly she'd wage wars to get what she wanted, he'd seen the way she had Dorshe left injured horribly and nearly killed Ann and Hilling, having Ouken kill everybody else until King Bosse intervened... and how she manipulated King Daida... Apeas knew she could kill everyone so easily. And for some reason, he felt like he himself was the last bastion. If he kept her satisfied with his work, then she would not target the others, that was his mindset.

Apeas... just wanted out... and yet he couldn't scream. He caused his own downfall, he felt like. He made his bed. So he had to lie in it.

" F-Forgive me--! I... " How could he try to sputter it out? How could he even manage to turn this around? If... if this kept up, he would die...

" ... I-I just... grow frustrated with myself, Lady Miranjo. I should not have lashed out towards you, forgive me... " He meekly begged for her forgiveness like a terrified child, his head pressing down against the floor to make himself as small as possible. He could still feel the blood roll down the corners of his mouth...

" I have been faltering, a-and struggling when I know I can reach your expectations, yet... for some reason, I... I tremble when I wield my spear, and I freeze whenever I face the gryphon... I don't wish to fail you... I am just... mad, at myself. Please, forgive me... please, Lady Miranjo... "

#[ trading blows | reblog. ]#[ i swear my spear to the true king | ic / in character. ]#[ the head of a once regal spear. it's seen many things | main. ]#immortalshield #ask to tag tw #emotional manipulation tw #manipulation tw #abuse tw #violence tw #stockholm syndrome tw

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comic-art-showcase · 2 years

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Harley an Joker by Michael Pickard

Batober prompt: Trapped

DO NOT interact if you ship these two. DO NOT reblog/tag as ship!

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autisticandroids · 2 years

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i also just read expectations and i'm curious about what else you thought of it, if you don't mind sharing! though i haven't read **** ************* the comparison's got me 👀

i liked expectations. i generally like everandanon's work, tbh. there are some things i really like about expectations (the anachronism stew of the setting made it feel almost steampunk-y, which was fun; i love the way cas is gendered in it, a lot more complexity than you'd expect from the premise; cas and anna's dynamic was a real treat), but it has a number of flaws that annoyed me as well as stuff that just wasn't my taste so i would say it's definitely not my favorite everandanon piece. i might reread parts of expectations for the sake of discussing it in the future, but i don't think i would reread the whole thing, whereas i'm currently considering just rereading issues for the joy of it, you know?

anyway re: expectations and wu:

Cas reads his sister’s letter a few times over the course of the day. Dean doesn’t show up for their riding lesson, but Cas forgets it, anyway, not remembering until the sun is halfway down. He’s thought about it, and thought about it, and thought about it some more, and he understands what Anna was afraid of. You’re the strongest, most stubborn person I know, and you can survive anything. And I know that to do that, you have to want to, so please at least want to for my sake. There is a part of himself, Cas thinks, that woke up today and did not want to. But Anna is out there, and he loves her more than anyone or anything in this world — and if this is what she’s asked of him, then this is what he’ll do. What he cannot do, he decides, is continue in this back and forth of tension and antagonism with Dean. He was angry, and he was right to be angry — but it doesn’t help him. Cas is more fragile than he knew, and while there was some peculiar satisfaction to be found, being so bold with Dean — feeling free to — he’s not free. He never was, and he never will be. The thing to do now is to accept that, and finally, actually try to make the best of it. Sitting in tense silence with and snapping at Dean is not making the best of it, even if it made him feel better, for a time. At this point, he just needs to let it go. This is . . . it’s his life, now. And he’s tired of feeling worse and worse about it. He never thought he’d miss New Eden, not when Anna was no longer even there, but he does, because in New Eden, he woke up and did what he was supposed to and he didn’t worry about whether it was fair or not. He didn’t trouble himself with things he lacked, or things he wanted. He needs to relearn how to set all those things aside and just live. And because his life now consists of this room, a garden, and Prince Dean of Winchester— He’s going to have to try to make the best of all three.

Expectations, by everandanon, Chapter 5

But the end result of this pain is something Dean has been begging for since the beginning. He wants Castiel to stay here and love him. At the same time, Castiel can't help but think this is the only way for him to survive. To want to survive, and to be happy. Hating Dean for bringing him here won't help him. Even if Castiel were still capable of that emotion when it comes to Dean. "Dean, have you ever heard of natural and synthetic happiness?" Dean frowns, taking out the toasted bread. "What like, happiness from drugs?" Castiel shakes his head. "No. Natural happiness is the joy we feel from getting what we want. Synthetic happiness is still experiencing joy when we don’t get what we want, or we get something else, or when we're not given a choice." Dean stares at him, a stick of butter in hand. "Explain that again to me." "You're happy as a hunter, right?" "Yeah," Dean says suspiciously. "But that's not a choice you made for yourself." "Hey, I love hunting," he begins defensively. "I help people and get to kill stuff. Demons and angels and all that shit, not so much," he says with a grimace. "But I enjoy my work." Castiel smiles faintly. "That's exactly what I mean, Dean. You didn't make that choice, and yet you find joy in it." "You're saying that's artificial? Doesn't feel artificial, dude." Castiel wonders if it would, for him. He's always half-attributed closed opportunities and limited choices to some kind of fate, and been happy with what he'd been given. "No, it doesn't. The idea is that we choose whether we are happy, Dean." He pauses. "They did a study where there was a final project in a class – two photos. Half were told they could only choose to keep one and frame it, while the other half were told they could change their minds at a later date and receive the other photo. Those not given the option of changing their minds were happier with their choice." "Not being given a choice," Dean rephrases. Castiel meets his eyes. "Yes." "Like you weren't," Dean says. Not a question. "Yes," Castiel admits quietly. Dean turns off the burner and puts down the butter. Instead of kneeling, he actually sits cross-legged on the floor right next to Castiel's chair, so he has to look up at him. "What do you think of synthetic happiness, Cas?" "The researcher says that most of the happiness we feel in life is synthetic," Castiel says. "Being content with your job. Your pay scale. Finding someone else who doesn't fit all your wants, but you love them anyway. Some say private or personal happiness is a better description." "That's a good summary, but that doesn't tell me what you think," Dean says gently. Castiel begins to speak, then stops. Does happiness mean surrender? Can he surrender without giving himself over to Dean, accept only his circumstance, and demand equality and respect on the rest? "I don't know." Dean rubs little circles on his knee, and then kisses it. "All right. Thank you, Cas. You've given me some stuff to think about." He smiles. "In a good way. No worries, okay?" Castiel nods silently.

With Understanding, by apokteino, Chapter 7

i think i have made my point.

#spn #with understanding cw #kidnapping tw #stockholm syndrome tw

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ragnarot · 2 years

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REMINDER that jack can and WILL SNAP at a moment's notice . he doesn't care who you are , really . and he , as you could guess , doesn't feel any real shame towards that idea . he's done it many times before , and he will do it again . he is forcing hlökk to work alongside him against her will . and her strangles her for it , weakening her & belittling her into doing what he wants her to do : to bestow her power unto him , a process which a valkyrie offers up their divine soul unto a mortal to fuse them together . doing so forms a divine weapon capable of killing gods .

it's also why ... i find their later scenes ... kind of disturbing ? not only did jack strangle hlökk when she refused to work alongside him , HE SNUCK INTO HER ROOM BEFOREHAND & WAITED . so it was obviously premeditated on his behalf . he planned this out like a sick bastard .

i really don't like that the canonical material is making their relationship slightly more friendly . maybe it's JUST ME personally , but it really creeps me out . i think hlökk might be experiecing some stockholm syndrome . jack is abusing her . and i am not comfortable portraying it , really , as anything but abuse . she isn't his daughter figure . they are not friends . he only wants to use her powers to help him kill & toy with other people . i do not trust jack , and think again , he is using his supposed friendliness as a ploy .

#the bad vibes are off the charts .#strangulation tw #abuse tw #imageheavy //#jesus fgucking christ . jack .#also ? get out of her room .#stockholm syndrome tw #stalking tw #ASK TO TAG .

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redhoodedjaybird · 2 years

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Jason’s behaviour, post-psychological conditioning

Note - Putting this under a cut due to themes of torture and abuse, psychological manipulation/conditioning, Stockholm Syndrome, etc.

Torture methods the Joker used to break Jason:

Repeated and sustained physical beatings

Repeated drowning/water torture

Sleep deprivation

Starvation, tapping into Jason's prior food insecurity

Use of a shock collar

Psychological manipulation, including gaslighting, Pavlovian conditioning techniques, and emotional exploitation aimed at causing a state of traumatic bonding.

As a result of the torture/physical abuse and the psychological conditioning Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker, he has developed Survival Identification Syndrome (also known as Stockholm Syndrome). His development of SIS is, in part, also linked to prolonged and complex patterns of abuse Jason suffered as a child before Batman found him.

The Joker has used that and multiple manipulation tactics to convince Jason that Batman never really cared about him and just used him. He went about that by providing evidence (or lack thereof) in the form of no missing person reports filed for Jason and no apparent effort by Batman to search for and rescue Jason, further reinforced when Batman recruits a new Robin.

Among the physical torture techniques employed, Joker forced Jason to wear a shock collar, first using it whenever Jason attempted to fight back, then as punishment when he was rude, eventually curbing most of Jason's resistant behaviours entirely.

Joker also followed up using the shock collar with positive reinforcement in the form of much gentler physical contact and an explanation in a softer, more compassionate tone for why he punished Jason, leading Jason to begin to associate avoiding being shocked with perceived affection. Though Jason initially felt a sense of self-loathing, he soon grew numb to it and began accepting the twisted form of affection until he reached a point of actively seeking it out. Note: This is not a romantic attachment of any sort. It is an emotional/psychological dependency fed by and reinforced by a cycle of abuse.

Due to Jason's emotional dependency, Joker further reinforced and conditioned Jason into the belief that Joker is the only person who truly understands and accepts him while encouraging Jason to act on his darker and more violent impulses, completely unrestrained.

Jason's conditioning is so effective that he does not attempt to escape, even when the opportunity presents itself. He will also follow instructions to place himself in a position of potential physical harm if requested to – e.g., put a gun to his head with the safety off and his finger on the trigger.

The Joker keeps Jason trained to attack and fight by pitting him against rooms full of Arkham and Blackgate inmates.

He will also lend Jason to other members of Gotham's rogues' gallery to gain favours from them. Joker does not care what they do with Jason so long as he is returned alive and in one piece, and he also stipulates that he is not responsible if Jason chooses to fight back.

Unknown to the rogues, however, Joker checks in with Jason on his return to get any information from him before allowing Harley to patch him up.

If, while out in Gotham with the Joker, Jason was to be confronted by Batman, he would remain at Joker's side, and he may also be used from time to time as a decoy/bait to lure out Batman or other members of the family.

However, depending on which bat fam member/verse, they may be able to break through Jason's conditioning to some extent, but this requires exploring further.

#arkhamverse!jay:canon #v:there's poison in my blood but it's feelin' like an attachment #abuse tw #torture tw #psychological conditioning tw #stockholm syndrome tw #manipulation tw

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caroldantops · 2 years

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No thoughts just Stockholm syndrome with Wanda.

When the captor has sympathy or fake sympathy, saying how confused your little brain must be to go through all this stress. You could lash out at her but I mean she’s the scarlet witch, you won’t get far. When your done with your little meltdown and you have no energy to fight her, she’d just cuddle you and tell you shes sorry for what she’s putting you through. You couldn’t tell if she genuinely did feel bad for taking you or if she was just manipulating you.

god i fucking. LOVE. the fake sympathy but the real sympathy hits even fucking harder like apologizing while shes cuddling u and touching u and its mostly manipulative but i also do see wanda like feeling guilty about just not being able to let u go because she needs you so Bad

#stockholm syndrome tw #kidnapping tw #c: wanda #dark!wanda #darkfics

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alphcapexpredator · 2 years

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Always the Alpha [Intro]

[ ian bohen, male, he/him ] whatever you think you know about CLARENCE “RAZOR” LORENZ, the 47 year old, BISEXUAL, NEW COMER, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored WEREWOLF is often described as STRATEGIC + AVARICIOUS but don’t let them fool you; they can also be WICKED + SADISTIC, which often has them regarded as the THE DIRTBAG they are a BUSINESS OWNER at the COOL WATER’S INK but it’s also said they are a ALPHA within the BLOOD MOON PACK. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth.

BASICS

Full Name: Clarence “Razor” Lorenz

Age: 47

Birth: December 25th in Buffalo, New York

Gender/Pronouns: Male (he|him).

Species: Born Werewolf

Affiliations: Blood Moon Pack (Alpha), Cool Water’s Ink (Owner)

Family: Clementine Lorenz (Mother, Deceased), Radzig Lorenz (father, deceased), Heaven Lorenz (sister, deceased), Theodore “Teddy” Lorenz (son, alive), Anastasia Lorenz (daughter, deceased), Kiera Lorenz (wife, alive)

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: Ian Bohen

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Height: 5′7″

Tattoos, Birthmarks, Scars, etc: N/A

BIOGRAPHY

Born to proud pure breed werewolves, Clarence---who was nickenamed Razor for his aggressive personality from a young age---was trained to become a first class werewolf. He depicted cruel and antisocial behavior since his birth, his mother sharing how even as he was born, Clarence didn’t cry, he’d screamed in rage. From then he was taught werewolf were the apex predator in the world they called home. He was trained to fight and to become a vicious leader that would carry on the Blood Moon Pack’s tradition.

However, Clarence was the youngest of two and his older sister seemed to possess a natural skill at leadership. Seeing the budding competition, their parents did all they could to pin them against each other, believing it to be a productive environment for their offspring.

He remembers the Rayne Pack from a young age. Although the Blood Moon Pack thought of them as less-refined werewolves, his father fancied their eldest daughter and had arranged for her to be his second wife. However, during a Hunt, Clarence’s father and mother were murdered by their prey and the Alphahood was passed to Clarence’s sister.

He was able to control his rage and hunger for power for a year before it became too much for him. On the one year anniversary of their parents death, the Blood Moon Pack began a nomadic lifestyle. A few hours into their first trip, Clarence challenged his sister who was taken aback and tried to negotiate a way out of the challenge. She said she loved him and didn’t want to kill her little brother.... Which prompted Clarence to smile and agree that she couldn’t do it before using his claws to rip her throat open. That was the beginning of a new era of the Blood Moon Pack, which became progressively more radical than it used to be.

When the Rayne Alpha and his children came to him for help, Clarence agreed to help... So long as Rayne bent the knee to him. When he didn’t, Clarence challenged him to a duel to the death... Which he won. Afterwards, however, he still helped the Rayne pups have their revenge. After all, there was no better way to manipulate others than taking everything from them and then giving them exactly what they wanted.

Settling in Creation Peaks, Razor is looking to take over as the local pack and continue to set werewolf supremacy on stone. After all, a werewolf still in their two-digit age range still had a long life to live...

#murder tw #manipulation tw #risingpeaks.intro #{life of an apex predator: self}#stockholm syndrome tw

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purru · 2 years

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Safer in the Dark

▷ Summary; They had banished the devil from his body, too bad he replaced its place

⚠️ content advisory: light stockholm syndrome, character with dubious morality

Fandom: original character (ttrpg)

Note #1: fill for day 8 of Whumptober - Back From The Dead | continuation of this fic, set right after his resurrection

He woke up from the dead with glacial resentment. When he noticed the handcuffs, he couldn’t tell when fury ended and grief began.

His murderer–no, savior, explained with great regret that he had to do it. Hicks had to kill Rook to separate his soul from the devil, there was no other way.

Patiently, his savior made it clear that they also destroyed the contract that binds him to the devil. He eventually learned that the process also made him lose a chunk of his arcane power. Lost in thought, Rook was quiet the whole time.

“What happened to you was not your fault. It's time to start over,” his savior finally said. There was a heavy lump in his throat. He slowly looked away, not wanting emotion to overtake him. He had to be grateful for what Hicks had done to save him. He had to. He convinced himself so. After all, Hicks was the first person who ever stood up for him.

“You have spent years under that devil’s thumb, unwillingly,” Rook heard his savior saying. “You are free now.”

The revenant tried his best to believe it.

---

Rook stood completely still when he felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his head. Gun to head, not unlike his first taste of death. His mind raced. Sir?

“Hands in the air,” barked his target. Rook quickly complied. Sir?

He frantically evoked the devil’s name in his head. Static. There was no familiar taunting laugh. Rook heard his target saying something out of anger but his ears were swimming.

Cold sweat began to form on his forehead. Rook was confused as to why he couldn’t smell sulfur, why his target wasn’t set ablaze yet.

And he was truly alone, he realized. Fear wormed further into his head, now that it's devoid of The Prince’s company.

It was way too late and he had to learn the hard way, but they were right. There’s a price for everything in life. He had regained his soul but lost his protector.

‎

Note #2: title is taken from the lyrics of this song

#whumptober2022 #no.8 #back from the dead #OC #fic #stockholm syndrome tw #my writing #oc: rook 🦌#so this marks the start of his corruption arc in game

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cowboy-anon · 1 year

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💝 for Benji, for both jimmy and clay

🔨 for Clay

Thank you for the ask! <3 Benji my beloved lol

Quick CW: Cursing, cutting mention, discussed punishment, implied neglect, implied successful escape, intimate whumper, knife mention, multiple whumpees, pet whump, Stockholm Syndrome, whipping mention

❤️‍🩹 Is there anything you wish your owner did more of?

Benji isn’t amused by this question at all. They say, disgusted, “Clay could leave me alone more. He treats me like a prized pet a little too often. It’d be great if he’d just fuck off for a bit.”

They think then, and respond just a little calmer now, with an exhausted sigh, “Jimmy too. I get what he’s trying to do, make me feel welcome and all, but sometimes you just want a little space to feel… human, you know?”

🔨 Proper punishment is a mark of a good owner, is there a punishment your pet responds to best? Is there one you prefer?

Clay smiles almost sympathetically. “It doesn’t take much to make my dear Benji regret their actions. Whipping…” Clay smiles more. “They’re always calm and quiet after a whipping. But I don’t like ruining them like that, so viciously. So thoughtlessly. I prefer to cut them with a knife, so they have to look into my eyes and acknowledge what they did.” He sighs a bit. “But that hardly ever gets my point across.” As far as Apple, Clay rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Nothing makes him learn. He’s still obsessive and… fucking annoying. And I only ever ‘punish’ him when he’s getting on my last nerve, and then, I just do whatever I feel like. I’d much rather just get rid of him, but Benji likes him so… the best I can do is take my anger out on him.”

#currently hating the mobile version of tumblr lol #those spaces between paragraphs are only one ‘enter’ key’s worth. it just looks so bad #but anyway pfft #thank you for the ask!#pet whump #benji the whumpee #intimate whumper #multiple whumpees #cutting tw #knife tw #whipping tw #stockholm syndrome tw #neglect tw #jimmy the caretaker #clay the whumper #cursing tw #punishment tw

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bunnystalker · 3 months

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feline delight (18+)

albert finds you on the streets. too cute to pass up, he takes you home against your will.

a/n; sorry this took so long! hope it was worth the wait :D

cw; half-alive dove maybe eat, cat hybrid!reader, afab!reader, owner!wesker, kidnapping, captivity, stockholm syndrome, drugging, dubcon/noncon, body betrayal, leashing + collaring, reader doesn't wear underwear, manhandling, breeding kink, wesker likes seeing you in pain sorry, no prep (please prep irl), unsafe sex (p in v, clitoral stimulation, creampie, implied multiple rounds)

tags; @4inchfae @thatgirlgames @whiskers-my-beloved @icecream596

albert never had a penchant for pets, let alone a hybrid like yourself. bringing you in may have been the best thing he'd done in years. you needed a home desperately, regardless of how much you scratched and clawed at him when he'd carried you off to his research facility without so much as an introduction. you hear him rustle around in his pockets with one hand and then, the uncapping of something. before you can look at what it is, a fine needle pierces right into the muscle of your neck. your vision fades within seconds, and you stop scratching.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you didn't know what to expect, but waking up in a cage clean and clothed hadn't been on your list. you thought you'd surely be dead. but, there you were, with a black long sleeve shirt and skirt, thigh-highs adorning the better half of your legs, and a black leather collar around your neck. looking around, a small bell attached to your collar rings. not moments later, you hear footsteps. you look up at the man who has taken you in- tall, blonde, and very intimidating.

albert crouches before the kennel you're cowering in and looks you over as if he didn't get a good enough look when he bathed you. you hiss quietly and shrink into one of the corners furthest from him, cool metal digging into your back with each attempt to get further away.

behind his shades, his hazel eyes thoroughly examine you. the fear you give off is aromatic with a faintly sweet undertone of something more. gratefulness, perhaps. he did bathe you, clothe you, and put you in a very nice kennel of your own. your collar is a perfect fit, no less, and even though you didn't ask for any of this, it's more than you know what to do with. you've no bruises, no gashes, no injuries. how strange.

he's pondering what to say to get you to calm down. to trust him a little. maybe come out of the kennel, but that would be for later.

"hello." he places a gloved hand on the kennel's top rather carefully, so as not to startle you, and leans in just a bit. his voice is nicer than you would think. a bit nasally, sure, and the accent is cheesy, but he could read you the yellow pages and you wouldn't mind.

"…" your silence makes his jaw clench by a fraction. he'll have to fix that. for now, he'll ease you into things.

"what's your name, little one?"

"haven't got one." you rasp, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin atop them. ears flat against your head, your tail swishing- cautious and afraid, you are, and well within your rights to be.

he nods.

"we'll have to fix that, won't we?" he forces a little smile on his lips when you nod. you're not sure why you do when, two seconds ago, you'd have run off if the kennel door was opened. he's smart, he's thought this through. you're not leaving the kennel until you trust him, unbeknownst to you. your tail is ramrod stiff on the cushioned floor of your captivity, and at least he was kind enough to furnish it for you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

it's hard to trust him even though you know it would be smart to pretend.

he only lets you out to feed you, and from the start, he'd made it clear that if you tried to run, you'd be dead. at the same time, twice a day, he opens the cage for you to crawl out of. he extends his hand to you, looping his gloved fingers around your collar and guiding you to sit by his feet. he links a leather leash through the d-ring attached to your collar and walks you through his home, the environment sterile and hardly lived in.

it's when he puts you in his lap at the dining table and force feeds you that he fills the tense silence. the food itself is good, and you wonder if under different circumstances, you'd want him to be your owner. as you eat, he talks. you are, to some extent, grateful that he feeds you, even if he is only doing the bare minimum.

"have you been good, dear?" he asks, and you nod as per usual. it's rare that you decide to talk.

"good girl." he scratches the spot behind your ear, forcing you to lean into his hand and purr. he chuckles quietly. as he pets you, his stress melts away. you're so cute. a meek, naive little thing that he loves taking care of.

as dinner finishes, he picks you up and keeps you in his arms as he cleans up. you're silent, sedated by the drug he's put in your food, and you're bodering on falling asleep in his arms. a swell of pride of warms his chest as a little snore escapes you, followed by your tail wrapping around his arm.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

day by day, bit by bit, you miss him. he keeps you company when he's not at "work" or whatever that is, he talks to you, he pets you the way you like, and it's nice when you forget about how you got here. the only thing you've come to dislike is the lack of underwear. it's not that he can't afford some, it's that he enjoys your discomfort to a worrisome degree. he likes its easy access, even if he hasn't taken advantage of it (or you) yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

he comes around and you find yourself less defensive, thanks to your breeding cycle. you press your face against the bars of your enclosure.

"owner," you whine as he walks past, a spark igniting in your gut. his scent is stronger than it was this morning, and you're hyperaware of the growing warmth filling your body.

"yes, dear?" he stands at his closet, his back to you as he strips himself of his work clothes.

"can i come out?" you paw at the door of your cage, ignoring the rattling noise it causes.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting you stew in your silence for a moment as he finds something more casual to wear. you don't normally ask to come out- this is progress, proof of your trust.

"in a moment. let me get dressed, darling."

it's enough for you to stop whining. your tail swishes happily and your ears perk up when he approaches the cage in grey sweatpants and a black shirt and crouches down to undo the lock to the cage. you practically jump into his arms, purring loud when he wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

"thank you." you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. his smell, like poison, makes you dizzy with desire. the warmth is growing uncomfortable, your ears pinned flat against your head.

he hums in response as he strokes your hair, a purr emanating from the depths of your chest. the heat spreads the more he touches you, pooling between your thighs. he tries not to notice when you rub them together and mewl pathetically.

"is something wrong?" his voice is a match to the flame in your gut.

it's your turn to be silent, trying to even out your breathing despite the overwhelming urge to lean in and take a nice, long whiff of the pheromones he gives off.

"darling, answer me. you know better." he says in a more stern tone, looking down his nose at you.

"… i'm in heat." you state quietly, avoiding his gaze. if you could see his eyes, you're sure they'd be wide and a little bit dark.

"are you, now?" he hoists you up in his arms as he stands, his forearms just under your ass. you're bent slightly over his shoulder. "we'll need to remedy that, won't we, pet?" he chuckles. a chill runs down your spine. just what have you gotten yourself into?

he's not a mean lover, just a little rough. he sets you on his bed and pushes you down with a cold hand to your chest as he moves on top of you. anxiety cools your blood, makes it like ice pushing through your veins.

"wh-what are you…?" he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you, and kisses your cheek.

"i've been waiting a long time for this, darling. it would be wise to avoid making me wait more." there's a threatening undertone to his voice, the burn of discomfort making itself known in your shoulders. he wedges his knee between yours, forcefully parting your thighs so he can trail his hand up them, pinching here and there just to see you flinch, and smooth two fingers along your weeping slit. a hint of a smile makes itself known as you shudder, thighs parting wider to accomodate his hand. his cold digits stop at the very top, feeling for your puffy clit, and rubs slow, tight circles around it.

you hate that it feels good, and you hate yourself for having a breeding cycle. a soft moan leaves you at his light touch, your eyes locked on the hand rubbing your clit. he presses down a little firmer, eliciting a whine from you.

"look, doesn't that feel much better?" he croons, his voice low with his lips so close to your ear. reluctantly, you nod, and that earns you the reward of his fingers rubbing you a little faster. you squirm a little, trying to get more than just surface-level pleasure.

"words."

"y-yes. that feels good, thank you." a hint of malice laces through your tone, but you're grateful for what he's giving you. your face is on fire as only the pathetic wet noises from your cunt fills the air, and you (try to) hide your face in your hands, only to be met with a sharp slap to your cunt. you flinch, the pain subsiding after he continues playing with your cunt. your hands come down from your face and instead grab the sheets.

your stomach tightens, twists into a coil that winds tighter with every pass over your hardened clit. but you can't cum like this, not when your breeding cycle is ongoing.

"owner- p-please, need more." you whine, and albert kisses your cheek as a response, denying you of what you need.

"such a needy thing. fine. you'll get what you want." he takes his hand from your pussy and to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down rather impatiently, as well as his boxers. weeping, his cock is bright red at the tip from want (how long has he been hard for?) and large. you're worried.

he chuckles at your fear-stricken expression before grabbing your legs and pressing them against your chest.

"be a dear and hold these for me, hm?" he says, and you do as you're told. you hold your legs by the backs of your thighs, pressing them so your knees hit your chest. he strokes himself once, twice to the sight of you spread out for him, your cute cunt drooling. slick drips down your perineum, inviting him.

you watch him slot himself in place, the tip of his long cock dragging through your folds to bump your clit, making you gasp. your entrance clenches around nothing, a pitiful whine leaving you.

"greedy." he shakes his head softly as he lines himself up, and without warning, thrusts himself entirely inside you.

the stretch is worse than you imagined. you flinch away from him, but he grips your thighs and tugs you right back onto his cock. it hurts, and the burn is something you hadn't accounted for. tears prick at your lower lashline. he leans down, his frame practically engulfing yours, and kisses your cheeks.

"don't cry. struggling only makes it worse, you know." he coos, tapping your jaw. you nod softly and wrap your arms around his neck for support, sniffling as the tears trail down the sides of your face. to ease your discomfort, his hand works itself between the two of you again and thumbs at your clit, dulling some of the pain. another moment, and your tears have disappeared.

"y-you can move. m'okay." you mumble to albert's delight. he starts slow, mostly on your behalf, and hisses at just how tight you are around him as he thrusts shallowly into your aching cunt.

the moment you make a noise, he grips your thighs tighter and starts bullying his cock into you quite intensely. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every single harsh, downright mean, thrust. he's not doing this for you, and that becomes readily apparent. still, you can't deny that it feels good to be fucked.

albert's quiet, aside from small huffs and hisses of enjoyment. you're so wet, it's making a mess of his lower abdomen and thighs. the lewd slapping of skin on skin combined with your precious mewls and whimpers of pleasure spurr him on, his nails digging into your thighs. his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed.

"there- a-again, please!" you grab the hand not rubbing your clit and lace your fingers together as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, leaving you dumb on your owner's cock. he complies with your request, if not to feel you cum then just to see your pretty face when you do.

he bullies that spot relentlessly, to the point where some of his hair falls in his face. gummy walls squeeze and suck him in more, a loud cry leaving you as you reach your peak. slick gushes from your already crying pussy, thoroughly coating the both of your lower halves. it's dripping from you as he continues pumping into your hole, the schlick noise amplified now.

"w-wait- wait-" you grab the hem of his shirt, but he ignores your protests.

"we're not finished until my precious girl has her cunt filled with cum." he moves your hand away, forcing yourself further into the mating press he's got you in. you can feel every single inch, and how the throb of his dick indicates his climax. a few more sloppy, mean thrusts and he's spilling his seed into you. decidedly, it's a good feeling, and you need much, much more. your heat ceases momentarily, however, as he keeps his cock inside to ensure that nothing leaks out. your tail wraps around his thigh, the end flicking happily.

"i mean filled in every sense of the word, darling." he gathers some of your slick that's coating his lower abdomen on two fingers and pushes them in your mouth, watching with delight as you kitten-lick them clean. a dark grin forms on his pale lips, his length twitching at the sight. it's then that you really give in, that you decide it's better to be this way- fucked full of his cum and brainless. a familiar heat flares in your gut once more.

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