#void stiles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

murdrdocs · 7 months

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SAW YOUR END. void stiles

description. it's hard not to give into the Nogistune. he does have the face of your favorite person, after all

includes. DARK CONTENT 18+, SMUT 18+, SLIGHT DUBCON (r wants it but for safe measures), fem! reader, impact play, choking, degradation, stiles is possessed, forced impregnation, baby trapping (kinda), snowballing, reader is secretly in luv with stiles, implied that stiles is present, some angst, title from 'cherry waves' by deftones

wc: 4.5k+

→ kinktober masterlist

He’s more intimidating up close than you would’ve thought.

You’ve been telling yourself that if faced with the shell of your best friend, you could handle yourself. The Nogistune doesn’t fight. He plots, plans, weakens you with words alone. And you thought this was something you could control. No amount of taunts or insults or manipulation could catch you off guard.

But you somehow forgot that while he would slowly weaken your resolve, he would be wearing the face and body and voice of your best friend. You hadn’t considered that this would make you weak in and of itself, heart already thudding loudly behind your chest when you saw those amber eyes, mouth dry when he spoke your name, hands shaking with the desire to meet him in the middle when he reached out for you.

You find yourself to be more fragile than you thought, lip quivering and eyes welling up when his gaze hardens instead of softens. Your entire body trembling when he starts his slow torture, words perfectly chosen to hit the spots of you that will be most affected.

He’s unpredictable, possibly completely predictable if you’d been thinking with the parts of you that excelled in reason instead of the parts that excelled in emotion.

But his unpredictable nature leaks into his actions, his desires, as his taunts turn from ones to break you down to ones that are designed to have you as putty in his hands. Promises to give you your deepest desires, ones you were previously sure that no one other than yourself and your diary knew. Claims that he could fulfill your wishes if you would just give in.

It all sounds too good to be true, too simple and sweet and perfect. But again, rationale isn’t your strong suit at this point, so you’re standing before him, chest pressed to his, sooner than you realize it.

Heads tilted, lips closing in on the others, tips of noses brushing until they poke at the others cheek as lips finally press together.

Chapped pillows against moisturized, teeth clacking and spit swapping. It’s easy for you to forget that this is a trick, that this is all an elaborate scheme, while he kisses you like he wants it.

The Nogitsune kisses you as if he’s trying to actually devour you. He sucks your saliva up as it pools between your mouths, he licks around your mouth and tongues at your bones, his hands claw at your body to pull you tighter and closer to him until you can feel the muscle tone of Stiles’ body.

The grip he has on your waist –– slightly conservative as he almost refuses to venture down to your lower back –– has you stumbling, leaving your hands with nowhere else to go other than Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles has worn this shirt many times before, the cotton relaxed around his muscles. But in the short time that the Nogistune has been present in it, it’s become distressed, tiny tears in both of the shoulders, the color a little dull from what you can tell.

The tears in the fabric have your hands pressing against Stiles’ bare skin while they fumble along the material. You flinch at the first press, surprised at just how chilled his skin is.

In comparison, you feel like you’re on fire.

Your body burns where he touches you, yet the parts his form doesn’t reach is unbearably cold, similar to his own body. You need him everywhere and nowhere all at once. You want what he can give you and resent the idea simultaneously.

Two wars raging in your mind, knocking around your head until you have a pressure and a fog that demands your attention.

Instead, you focus on reality.

You focus on the bulge that presses against denim to reach you. You focus on the thigh coming between yours. You focus on the damp feeling in your shorts, pressed warmly against your cunt.

Stiles’ thigh presses against your center and you sigh contentedly, eyebrows relaxing from their cinched position as you subtly start to submit in the Nogitsune’s hold. He breathes in when you breathe out, taking in every breath that you let out like you’re feeding them to him. He groans when you groan, echoing you.

You’re lost in his movements, trying to decipher why he does what he does while also trying to enjoy the feeling, creating too much for your head to handle, and suddenly –– without realizing it –– you’re walking backwards, legs bumping into your bed, knees bending and body falling back to thud against the mattress.

The Nogistune doesn’t follow you. Instead, he stands at the edge, looking down at you. His eyes are dark and empty as they stare at your body from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about his opinion, your tiny brain convincing you that the opinion of the Nogistune correlates to that of Stiles. You shrink in on yourself, legs glued together at the knee, drawing up to your chest as you attempt to hide.

The Nogistune isn’t having it.

He tuts, the bed dipping at the end under his weight as he kneels. Two rough and large hands find your bare knees and you shiver, both thankful and regretful that you’d decided on your smallest pair of shorts for the night as you’d previously been completely unaware and unable to guess that your night would take a turn like this.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s an order, one you wouldn’t dream of disobeying, fear of what would happen if you did preventing you from doing so. Either way, he’s spreading your legs open himself as he says it until they’re wide enough to welcome him in.

He takes your forced spread as an invitation from you, shuffling forward until he’s completely situated between your legs. The Nogitsune’s hands press into the pillow beneath you, strong forearms belonging to Stiles caging you in. He stares down at you, analyzing your reaction as he slots one thigh between both of yours, the other resting on the outside of your left leg.

“Pretty little thing like you,” he says, head tilting as his analyzing gaze shifts to one that resembles amazement. Wonder, even.

“Innocent. An angel. Would never hurt a fly.” He’s spitting the words out now as if he doesn’t believe them.

His eyes narrow, glazing over as if he’s not paying attention to you anymore, and then he blinks and you’re the main focus once more. “That’s what he’s telling me. He’s trying to get out, you know. Trying to convince me to stop. He’s begging.” He takes a second, eyes calculating as he watches you for a reaction.

You think you don’t give him one, but there’s one hidden in the minute shifts of your features.

“But you don’t want that, do you?” He comes to a conclusion. “You don’t want me to stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be humping my leg like a bitch in heat.” And you are, your hips having a mind of their own as they push and pull against the material on his legs.

You hadn’t even noticed it was happening, too busy taking in his words as if they’re a form of hypnosis. Maybe they were, because it’s not until he points out your mindless hip movements that you’re fully aware of them, hands clutching at the Nogitsune’s sides as you start to pleasure yourself.

”Want me to please you?” His voice is sickly sweet, a teasing pout on his lips, his eyes faux soft and his thick eyebrows lifted. You know he’s mocking you, it’s evident in his voice and face. But you’re already submitting, wanting just that, and telling him with a sincere nod. “Yeah?” He shouldn’t sound as hot as he does, and you shouldn’t be as horny as you are. But at this point, you’re pushing aside nearly all of your morals, deciding instead to completely give in.

“Yes. Please, Void.”

His face twists into one of surprise at the nickname. “Is that what you all call me? ‘Void’.” You stop, fearing you’d angered the usually cool headed Nogisgune. Until he smiles, slight but enough to be seen, and his hands slide down to your cunt.

“Is that what you’ll call me when I bring you to completion?”

Another nod from you, your hips starting to squirm with impatience. You’re not above begging, as you’ve proven time and time again tonight, but there’s no need.

Void slides his hand down to the waistband of your shorts, separating the elastic from your skin enough to slide his hand beneath the thin layer.

You’re not wearing any panties, something about minimal layers being good for vaginal health. In reality, few layers is best for easy access, proven with the way Void easily slides two fingers through your slit, pushing your lips apart to let you feel the cool air against your center.

Goosebumps raise along your skin, your bedroom suddenly colder than it was before.

“So fucking wet.” His words are nothing but an observation, he’s quite frankly pointing out the obvious. There’s no hidden meanings or underlying intentions woven between the syllables. It’s straightforward.

And that’s probably why you’re so embarrassed about it.

You try to close your legs, shy away from Void, but of course he doesn’t let you.

He uses his free hand to push your knees apart, holding one of them down while his occupied hand flexes as he slides his two fingers down to tease your entrance.

“You can’t hide from me, sweet thing. You know that, don’t you?” This is full of a double meaning. You feel the weight of the words as you start to surrender even more, body weighted into the mattress while Void slides Stiles’ middle finger into your fluttering walls.

There’s barely any reaction, not much of a stretch nor enough stimulation to give you much. So Void adds a second, pushing your walls apart while he inserts.

You hiss, hands instinctively going down to wrap around Void’s wrist. He doesn’t swat your hands away. He lets you wrap your fingers around his wrist, and his eyebrows raise as he waits for you to make a move.

You don’t.

Your hand limply sits curled around a slender wrist, not tight enough to really do anything at all.

Void continues his slow torture, setting a pace for his fingers that leaves so much to the imagination.

What would it be like faster? Could you hear the squelch that way? Do you want it faster? Since that would inevitably bring you to the end at a speed that would easily have you unfulfilled and desiring more.

There’s not much room to think more, however, when Void starts lowering himself, eyes trained on yours while his head steadily moves down.

When he’s above your navel, he presses a kiss right below it, and then his other hand digs into the elastic of your shorts to pull them down. You’re left bare, open, save for Void’s fingers momentarily filling you up.

“Do you taste as good as you look? Hm?” he asks you, voice low and teasing. Completely unaware of the answer, you choose to not answer at all. But Void is determined, pulling his fingers out of you and floating them over to your mouth.

Your lips part easily, without any verbal prompting from him. He slips the digits in, and lets you suck, dark eyes trained on your mouth while you clean the pale skin.

His eyebrows raise to prompt you to answer his question.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” It’s snarky, but spoken like you’ve said the sweetest, most innocent thing in the world, words almost dainty as they saunter out in a single file line from your lips.

He hums, eyes squinting as his lips raise in something that looks like admiration. “Got a mouth on you.”

And then his hands are holding your thighs open as he slots his face between your legs.

The first lick is slow, his tongue flat as he confidently traces it from just above your asshole to just above your clit.

You gasp, not expecting that wide of a trail, and then you melt.

Void’s fingers presses into your thighs as he situates them over his shoulders, giving him the perfect position to devour.

Which, he does.

You don’t know how you expected a dark spirit with thousands of years of age over you to give head, but any expectation you would have had wouldn’t have been nearly as good as it is.

None of the previous ‘best head you’ve ever had’ exists in this room. In this space. In this moment. No conscious thoughts about the possible repercussions you’ll face from finally having Stiles’ head between your thighs, but in the most unconventional way. Nothing exists outside of Stiles’ mouth on your cunt, Void driving his actions as pleasure that knocks the breath out of you is introduced to your system.

Your eyes stick to the ceiling, or they close, fear that if you look down you’ll either cum too fast and cease the best moment of your life, or you’ll be wracked with guilt when poised with Stiles’ eyes peering up at you.

But of course, Void won’t let you off that easily.

His command to look at him is so strong that you don’t even consider disobeying it. Instead, you stare down at him, eyes finding his like opposite ends of a magnet. You prepare for that guilt to make you physically sick. You prepare to get uncomfortably turned off and recoil in on yourself instead of spreading your legs wider for Void.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, you feel weirdly comforted, back arching further and your hand confidently coming down to thread through Stiles’ waves, the dark hair beginning to stick to his forehead with the physical exertion.

Void pulls Stiles’ lips from your center, rosy-pink glistening before he licks them clean. You notice Stiles’ cheeks are turning a similar color and it’s then that something switches in your head.

Suddenly, you see Stiles instead of the Nogistune. It doesn’t help when you’re sent a smile that feels soft and familiar.

You’re pushed out of your daze by the grate of his voice.

“I bet you’re pretending I’m him, aren’t you?”

He licks up your cunt once more, another long stripe that collects your pooled arousal just before he sucks at your clit.

“Wanna scream his name while I make you cum? Hm?” It’s wrong, but you do.

You nod, the movement small and shy as you wiggle your hips to demand attention. He gives in, pressing his lips back to your sensitive nerve endings. You start to chase your orgasm, grinding your hips against Void’s face as you begin to imagine it’s Stiles between your legs instead. It’s easy to do, especially when his face is shoved in your pussy.

Stiles’ name falls from your lips with a stutter at first, unsure from your tongue as you test it. Void shakes his head. “Say it like you mean it,” he tells you before diving back in.

He bares his teeth and nips on the bud, giving way for the name of the face he wears to push from your chest with more assurance this time.

It’s the same name you moan when Void pushes you over the edge with his mouth alone.

With the post orgasm haze over your mind, bleeding into your body, it’s easier for you to see Stiles more than the Nogitsune.

His face relaxed, the light in your room brightening his dark eyes. His lips pink and swollen and glistening, spreading into a satisfied smile as your breathing starts to level out.

Logic attempts to remind you that no matter how similar they look, this isn’t Stiles. But when Void softens his eyes, his hands shake a little at your side, and his smile lacks cockiness, it’s easier than it should be for you to forget. It’s easy for you to look past the pale skin and purple under eyes and messier-than-it-should-be hair and instead see your best friend. The guy you’ve been pining after since middle school.

“You’re prettier than you know.” Void presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, close to the junction of your pelvis and limb. The action shoves you back to reality, putting you in that post-orgasmic euphoric haze.

“Too pretty for him.” Another kiss. “Should keep you close to me, shouldn’t I?”

Maybe there’s something else affecting you other than your post-orgasm haze, because the thought starts to sound not so bad. You try to nod, but your body is heavy. You’re tired, but your body wants more.

Shamelessly, you start to grind, a pathetic attempt of receiving friction from perhaps the air, since that’s the only thing you’re getting. You feel drunk, confused, and incredibly horny.

A frustrated groan falls from your lips, Void replying in a chuckle.

“What? You want more?”

You muster your strength to nod, and you can’t see it, but you look like the prettiest fucked out thing.

Hair messy atop your head, lips swollen and slick and pouty, eyes glazed over and it looks like you’ll cry if Void turns down your advances. He briefly considers doing so, just to fuck with you, see what you’re like at your weakest, but he figures there’s another way to get you to that point.

Void’s hand slides up your torso, palm wide and calluses rough against your soft body. He rises as he does so, hand cupping your jaw, face hovering over yours as he brings your attention solely to him. You blink dumbly, waiting for his next move.

“You know I’m gonna need something from you, too, baby, right? And not just those pretty sounds you make when you cum.” You stare at him, feeling like it’s all you've been doing this entire encounter. But there are no words, nothing for you to say to him.

You lick your lips and it takes longer than it should for a response to form in your head, each word appearing one at a time. “What … do you need?”

He kisses the side of your neck and then his hand slides down to rest over the area. You stay still, breath sitting in your chest, unmoving.

He sucks in a breath himself, as if he’s taunting you with how relaxed and unphased he is. Suddenly, you begin to feel like trapped prey.

“I need to hurt you, honey.” He tilts his head, eyes scanning over your body, calculating. “Not a lot, just enough to feed myself.” His grip on your throat seems to get tighter, more secure. “That’s okay, right?”

You’re dumb. So fucking dumb and clueless and desperate.

Because you’re nodding, hand pathetically circling Stiles’ wrist when pressure is applied to the sides of your throat.

“That’s a good girl.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek is struck.

You gasp, the sound is an instinct from your body. It forces you to breathe, and the airflow combined with the sting from your cheek feels good. You wonder if they’ll be a mark tomorrow, and the thought excites you instead of worries you.

You don’t consider the lie you’ll have to tell Scott or Lydia. You don’t think about how you’ll potentially feel looking in the mirror in the morning. All you think about is how you want Void to do it again.

Especially when he looks like this while he does it: Veins along his arms and neck turning black as he seemingly takes the pain, not away like Scott can, but as Void takes your pain he adds to it. Multiplies it, even.

It’s not filled with gloom, nor despair, but there’s something heavy that feels vaguely uncomfortable from the lack of attention, like an itch that needs to be scratched.

You need more.

Void seems to sense this.

“On all fours,” he instructs you, hand leaving your neck to allow you to do as told.

There’s the sound of shuffling, not just from you. Metal against metal, fabric against fabric. More shuffling, the added weight against the bed is gone, and then hands are pulling you back towards the edge.

There’s barely any wait, any anticipation, before your walls are forcibly stretched.

You wish you could see it, maybe if you were doing it in missionary, but beggars truly can’t be choosers and you’re perfectly fine with taking what you can get.

Void is at least a few inches deep before you consider the option of protection. You bring it up to him, glancing over your shoulder and your voice wobbling as you say it.

Void tuts as if he’s disappointed, shaking his head.

“You don’t want his babies?” He speaks through a pout, the epitome of condescending. “Don’t want to be the whore with her crush’s seed festering in her womb? ‘Cause I think you do.”

His hand presses flat against the middle of your back, pressing you down into the mattress, leaving you with your ass up.

Void bottoms out completely, a hiss sounding through your teeth as you try to adjust as quickly as you can.

He doesn’t give you much grace, instantly setting a pace that has you gasping, pornographic sounds slipping from between your lips. It’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined it, loud with the squelches of you and Void combining in the purest way possible. But it’s dirty, fast and lacking any neatness or grace.

He fucks you just as you expected from him: Mercilessly, with little to no concern for how you feel.

As if to emphasize this, he spanks you, the clap loud to the point where it seems fake. But the sting left behind on your left ass cheek begs to differ.

It’s not long before his thrusts become erratic, most likely from the build up of the entire ordeal. A lack of rhythm becomes present as he fucks you harder, with more intention behind each aggressive snap of his hips into yours. You’re sent further and further into the mattress as he does so, your lips pressing against your definitely sodden sheets. You attempt to maneuver your head to where he can hear you, a plea for him to cum anywhere but inside of you desperately climbing up your throat.

But it gets stuck behind your mouth. Void’s hand presses into the back of your head, forcing your face into the sheets, and just when you feel as if you can’t breathe, his hand wraps around your throat and he pulls you up, your back against his chest.

His chin sits on your shoulder, his lips brush your earlobe as he speaks.

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Fill you with little Nogitsune babies. Be a lot better than the little weaklings he would give you. Bet you would look so pretty carrying my kids. Tits all swollen,” his free hand circles around your waist at this point, climbing up to pinch an already sensitive nipple between his pointer and thumb.

You hiss, attempting to recoil away from the clamp. There’s nowhere for you to go, completely closed in by Void in all places. He’s still in you, rock hard and hot and fucking up into your walls with a depth that stings, his tip not too far from your cervix. His body is around you, arms circled around you, hands at your neck and stomach, pressing you back against him.

You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And with another orgasm brewing low in your belly, you want the opposite. It’s hard to admit, and it’s not like you will ever admit it, but you have the sudden craving for Void to fill you up.

You whine, pretending to be disinterested by the thought he puts in your head. But Void continues speaking, voice heavy and a little slurred as he continues to take the pain he’s inducing.

“Feel so good around me. It’s like this is how it was supposed to be. You and him. Maybe you two were made for each other.” He chuckles cruelly, almost taunting you with the idea. You have to bite back a sob because that sounds so nice, but it seems impossible after this.

You can’t imagine Stiles ever wanting to be with you after this.

“He wants that, too, you know. But ‘s not gonna happen when I’m here.” He kisses your cheek, and it would be romantic in any other situation.

You can’t even consider the idea of romance when Void’s hand squeezes at your throat and his voice drops a few octaves as he tells you: “You’re mine.”

His hand slides from your tit to between your thighs, two fingers circling your clit rapidly, meant to send you over the edge. You do so a few moments later, satisfied that he hadn't made you beg while your body completely relaxes until you let out a sound that is practically inhuman.

It’s a mix between a growl and a moan and a sob. You sound like a wounded animal. And while Void cums in you, you feel like one too.

He lets you go, allowing you to collapse face first into your bed.

Both of you are still for a moment, Void's heavy body atop of yours as you both lay limply on your mattress. Of course, he moves first, separating from you and letting you lay there in silence.

There’s no tranquility, no comfort, just thick silence.

You’re spent, fucked out as you attempt to catch your breath.

It’s almost impossible to do so when Void lifts your hips a little and then presses his tongue flat against your entrance. You gasp, experiencing too much too soon, and again attempt to thrash away. He holds you still, strong hands holding you up as his lips pucker around your hole. He sucks, and it becomes clear to you that he’s retrieving his own cum from inside of you.

When he’s finished, he flips you over and goes to your mouth, and it’s shameful that you still don’t have to be asked to open. You do it automatically, lips parting as Void presses his to yours. The swap is disgusting, both in taste and texture, but you lose yourself in the messiness of the kiss.

By the time Void pulls away, there’s drool and cum from both of you sliding down your chin. He smiles at the sight, gently tapping your cheek before doing the same with a much harder slap on your abused cunt.

This time, you don’t recoil, or writhe away, or even make a sound. You’re completely submissive, the only indicator of the pain being the way your stomach flexes.

Void grins, satisfied with how he’s made you. You expect more from him. You’re expecting him to tug his dick back up, so you’re sat watching him dumbly as he mechanically redresses.

You don’t move, too tired to do so, just blinking languidly while pale skin is recovered.

Just before Void leaves, he tells you: “I’m not done with you.”

And it’s both a threat and a promise. One you hope he keeps.

#🕸️ 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐑 #stilestobr!#void stiles x reader #void stiles x you #void stiles smut #void stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski smut #stilesworld!#stiles stilinski #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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voidpetrova · 8 months

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captive hearts — void!stiles x reader

☄. *. ⋆

content warnings and genre: swearing, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, degradation, slut-shaming, breeding kink, obsession

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

synopsis: it wasn't something your best friend would do, but it's what the nogitsune wanted for him. it was supposed to be against your will, but you couldn't stop yourself from falling for the familiar face that was holding you hostage

✧.*

the night hung heavy with a sense of unease, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent intent. in the dimly lit hallway of eichen house, you stood, the distant echoes of your friends' voices fading into the background. anxiety clawed at your chest, a gnawing feeling that something was deeply wrong.

as you rounded a corner, a figure stepped out of the shadows, and your breath caught in your throat. your best friend stood before you, his eyes dark and haunted, his presence radiating with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“(y/n),” his voice was a low, almost chilling whisper, a stark contrast to the stiles you knew so well. “you shouldn't be here.”

despite the warning in his words, you felt a surge of concern for your friend, your best friend. the stiles you had grown up with, the one who had shared countless memories and inside jokes. but now, as you looked into those void-black eyes, you couldn't deny the presence of something darker and far more sinister.

“what's happened to you, sti?” you asked softly, your heart heavy with worry.

a mirthless smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his voice carrying an eerie edge. ”oh, i'm still me, sweetheart. just a version you've never seen before.”

before you could react, his hand had shot out, his fingers gripping your wrist in an iron hold. panic surged within you, your heart racing as you struggled against his grasp.

“let me go, sti, please,” you pleaded, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and determination. he didn't relent, his grip unyielding as he stared down at you, his expression an enigmatic mask. “you're not leaving, (y/n). you're staying with me.”

confusion mingled with your fear. “why? what is it you want?”

his gaze held yours, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “i want you all to myself. away from distractions, away from interference. just you and me.”

his words sent a chill down your spine, the implications sinking in like a weight in your chest. your friends, the pack—they were the distractions he spoke of. stiles wanted you isolated, wanted your undivided attention. but for what purpose?

“stiles, please,” you pleaded, the fear in your voice betraying your facade of strength. “this isn't you. you're my friend.”

for a moment, something flickered in his eyes, a brief hint of the stiles you knew. but then it was gone, replaced by the darkness that had consumed him.

he leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “they don't matter, (y/n). only you.”

his words were a whisper against your skin, a dangerous allure that tugged at the edges of your resolve. despite the fear, despite the unease, you found yourself drawn to him—compelled by his magnetism, his power, and the dangerous allure of the unknown.

the air grew heavy with tension as stiles maintained his unyielding grip on your wrist. his touch was both firm and possessive, a reflection of the darkness that had consumed him. there was a twisted energy about him, an intensity that sent shivers down your spine and yet stirred an unfamiliar curiosity within you.

“why are you doing this, stiles?” your voice wavered, your heart pounding against your chest.

his eyes bore into yours, void of the warmth and familiarity you once knew. “because, (y/n), there's something about you that i can't resist. something that draws me in, that makes me crave your presence.”

his words held a certain vulnerability, an admission that cut through the layers of manipulation. and despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, you couldn't help but sense a flicker of truth in his confession.

stiles' fingers released your wrist, only to replace their grip with cold metal cuffs that bound your wrists together. he led you down the dimly lit corridor, the echo of your footsteps resonating through the silence. chains clinked softly as they trailed behind you, a physical reminder of your captivity.

“you and i, (y/n),” stiles murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “we're bound by something deeper than friendship. i can feel it. and i need you, all of you, to myself.”

as you walked beside him, the weight of his words settled over you like a cloak. the darkness within him was palpable, and yet, there was a connection that defied reason—an inexplicable link between you that drew you closer, even in the face of danger.

he led you into a room, its walls adorned with eerie symbols that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. chains dangled from the ceiling, their presence a stark reminder of the power stiles now wielded.

“you won't leave here until you understand,” he said, his gaze intense and unyielding. “until you see the truth of what we could be.”

stiles' hands moved deftly, securing the chains around your wrists, leaving you bound and vulnerable. the metal cuffs bit into your skin, a physical manifestation of the control he exerted over you.

“you're hurting me, sti,” you whispered, your voice laced with a mixture of pain and desperation.

his eyes softened for a moment, a trace of remorse flickering within them. “i don't want to hurt you, (y/n). but you have to see. you have to feel what I feel.”

he drew closer, his presence consuming the small space between you. his fingers brushed against your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, and yet, beneath it all, you sensed the unrelenting darkness that had taken hold of him.

“i've watched you, wanted you,” stiles confessed, his voice laced with raw emotion. “and now, i can't resist. you're mine, (y/n). even if you don't know it yet.”

his lips brushed against yours, a kiss that held a desperate longing, a dangerous craving. and as his mouth captured yours, you couldn't help but taste the dichotomy within him—the darkness and the yearning that intertwined in a twisted symphony of desire.

for the first time since your captivity began, your resistance wavered, the line between fear and fascination blurred. stiles' kiss held a power over you that defied reason, igniting a fire within your very core.

and as he pulled away, his eyes locked onto yours, a sense of inevitability settled over you—a realization that the boundaries between captor and captive were more fluid than you had ever imagined. in the midst of the shadows, a dangerous intimacy had formed, a connection that transcended the darkness and danced on the precipice of something deeper, something you couldn't yet comprehend.

the weight of your captivity pressed down on you, the chains and cuffs a tangible reminder of your vulnerability. stiles' eyes bore into yours, a mixture of intensity and anticipation that sent a shiver down your spine. his confession, his touch, his kiss—they were all a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to consume you.

tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed at him, your voice shaking as you found the words. “stiles, please— i can't share my feelings like this, not when you're— not when you're like this.”

his fingers brushed away your tears, his touch gentle against your skin. “(y/n),” he murmured, his voice a mixture of longing and reassurance, “you don't have to say a word. i can see it in your eyes.”

you trembled beneath his gaze, your heart a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions. his words held a truth you couldn't deny—the feelings you had suppressed, the connection you had resisted, it was all there, laid bare in the depths of your gaze.

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead, a tender gesture that contrasted sharply with the darkness that enveloped him. “i've waited for this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “waited for you to see what's between us.”

your heart pounded in your chest, a symphony of fear and desire that echoed in the silence between you. his lips descended upon yours once more, a kiss that was both a declaration and an invitation. and this time, as his mouth claimed yours, you didn't hold back.

your lips met his in a fervent dance, a mixture of desperation and surrender that left you breathless. the chains that bound you became an afterthought, the darkness that surrounded you fading into the background. there was only stiles—the stiles who had once been your best friend and confidant, and the stiles who now held you captive in a web of emotions too complex to untangle.

as his kiss deepened, a sense of inevitability settled over you—a recognition that your fate was now irrevocably intertwined with his. the tears you had shed, the resistance you had fought—it all seemed inconsequential in the face of the consuming desire that pulsed between you.

his hands explored your body with a reverence that belied the darkness that had taken hold of him. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, each caress sending waves of heat through your veins. the chains that had once symbolized captivity now seemed like a conduit of connection, linking you to him in a way that defied the confines of reason.

and as the minutes stretched into moments, and the boundaries between you blurred beyond recognition, you felt a strange sense of surrender. it wasn't just to him—it was to the complex emotions that had taken root within you, to the longing and the darkness that now coursed through your veins.

stiles' lips left a trail of kisses along your jaw, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that melded seamlessly with the turmoil of emotions you felt. the fear, the desire, the confusion—they all melded together in a symphony of sensations that left you dizzy and disoriented.

you pulled him closer, your fingers threading through his hair as you captured his lips in a fervent kiss. in that moment, the darkness that surrounded you was eclipsed by the intensity of your connection—an intensity that defied reason, logic, and the very essence of who you thought you were.

as the darkness and the desire merged into a single entity, you surrendered yourself to the storm that raged within you, a storm that was as much a part of you as the beating of your heart.

amid the whirlwind of emotions, your senses seemed to blur, the line between reality and desire becoming increasingly indistinct. stiles' touch was intoxicating, his kisses igniting a fire that consumed you from the inside out. the chains that bound you, once symbols of captivity, now felt like a tether to something deeper, something that defied the darkness that surrounded you.

his fingers traced the contours of your face, his touch both tender and possessive. his lips brushed against yours in a series of fervent kisses, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The world around you faded into obscurity, leaving only you and stiles, entangled in a dance that seemed to transcend time and space.

his breath was warm against your skin as he pulled away slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. “(y/n),” he whispered, his voice rough with longing.

tears welled up in your eyes, your heart a tumultuous sea of emotions. the words you spoke next were laden with a raw honesty that cut through the darkness like a beacon of light. “stiles, i love you. i don't care what you do to me. just—just do whatever you want. i'm yours.”

his eyes widened, surprise mingling with a rush of desire that seemed to consume him. a mixture of conflicting emotions played across his features—a sense of disbelief, a yearning for connection, and a darkness that still clung to him.

but then, as if a dam had broken, stiles' expression shifted. the vulnerability in his eyes intensified, the conflict giving way to a single-minded determination. he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that spoke of urgency and need.

the room seemed to spin around you as the kiss deepened, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you pulled him closer. the chains and cuffs that held you were no longer barriers—they were mere threads in a tapestry woven from the emotions that bound you to him.

stiles' hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that mirrored the intensity of his emotions. your skin burned under his touch, each caress igniting a fire that seemed to spread through your veins. and with every touch, every kiss, the divide between you grew smaller, until there was nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by him.

as the minutes stretched into eternity, you felt a sense of liberation—a liberation from the constraints of reason, from the boundaries of morality. the darkness that had once defined him was now a mere shadow, eclipsed by the force of your shared desires.

stiles pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “you have no idea how long i've waited to hear you say that.”

your chest heaved, your heart racing as you met his gaze with unwavering sincerity. “i meant every word, stiles. i don't care about the void. i love you, all of you.”

the vulnerability in his eyes deepened, a sense of awe mingling with his desire. he kissed you again, a kiss that was both a promise and a confession—a promise of something deeper, something that defied the darkness that had brought you to this point.

and as his lips claimed yours once more, you kissed him back with a fervor that mirrored his own. In the midst of the chaos, the desires, and the emotions that swirled around you, a new truth emerged—a truth that transcended captivity and defied reason.

“i've gotta be honest, doll,” he murmured into the kiss, stroking your cuffed wrists as he attached his lips to the crease of your jawline. “spent so many nights jerking off to the thought of you.” you pressed your thighs together, attempting to ease the tingling between your legs as a soft moan left your mouth.

“stiles, please,” you moaned, tugging at his dark locks as he sucked on the sweet spot of your neck, sucking until it was marked with purple. “need you inside me already.” he smirked at the way you begged for him, your words going straight to his dick as his jeans tightened.

he pulled away from your neck as he admired your desirable state, neck marked, hands cuffed and legs spread for him. your eyes fell to the bulge in his jeans, a small gasp passing your lips. the size was incredible, you couldn't possibly imagine what was waiting for you behind the fabric. “go on, princess,” he cooed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “take it out for me, baby. show me how much you want it.”

you did as you were told, from unbuttoning his jeans, to sliding them down his legs, to ignoring the way your pussy throbbed at the sight. his grey boxers had a stain pressed right where his tip was, tight and suffocating as his dick was outlined in the most perfect way. when you slid his boxers down in anticipation, your eyes widened, the smirk on his face only growing. “it's too big,” you gasped, and you weren't exaggerating. you knew it would tear your cunt apart with the combination of length and thickness. “gonna rip me apart.”

he could only shudder as you wrapped a hand around his shaft, your other hand pulling him in by his shirt. he was practically on top of you now, big dick right in your face as you clutched it. he exchanged your hand for his own, tilting his cock towards your mouth, shuddering as he tapped his slicked, angry tip against your bottom lip. you parted your lips, saliva trickling as you engulfed his tip, swirling your tongue around the slit as salty pre-cum filled your mouth and groans of pleasure filled your ears.

“so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he cooed, hand brushing your cheek as he admired you. you were so slutty for him, so willing and eager to please the man who was holding you hostage. “needy little doll, aren't you?” you nodded as he withdrew his cock from your mouth, smearing the arousal onto your lips before pulling away.

“please give me more, sti,” you moaned as you felt your clit throb, tugging on your restraints but failing to accomplish anything. “need all of you, please.”

he took pride in the way you begged him so nicely, in the way tears clouded your vision due to the lack of friction and mercy. he held devious laughter back as the tears spilled down your cheeks, unable to resist a few pumps of his dick at the sight of your tears. he leaned down, lips grazing your ear as his hands began to roam your body.

“little sluts like you get their pussies used, you know that? walking around in tops like this with your tits out, you like it when other guys stare at you?” you shook your head but it was no use, he had torn off your shirt, leaving you in a bra that would soon fall to the floor. he groaned, dick pressing into your skin as he groped your tits, eyes practically rolling back into his head as he sucked on the soft flesh, tongue swirling around your nipples before he engulfed them whole. “and these skirts that barely cover your ass, come on. you get a thrill knowing aiden's watching your cute little thighs? knowing isaac and theo are jacking off to your ass and tits at home, wishing they could have you the way i do?” the skirt you had on met the same fate as your top, leaving you in panties that made stiles go insane—see-through, pink, and for his eyes only. his hands pulled apart the flesh of your ass as you moaned, his lips trailing along your thighs, kisses planted on every inch of skin until you could feel his hot breath fanning your pussy.

“such a pretty little thing,” he cooed, pressing his nose into your barely-clothed clit. you whimpered, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as stiles inhaled, groaning at how he was met with a damp nose. “anybody else get you this wet, sunshine?” you shook your head eagerly, thighs trembling.

“no, just you. it's always been you.” your response pleased him enough for him to push your panties to the side, a sigh of relief leaving him as he stared at your pussy—at the way your arousal made it shine in the light.

“do i have to prep you, doll?” his question was almost mocking, dripping with insincerity as he used his thumb to toy with your clit, rubbing aggressive circles into it as your moisture piled up. you shook your head through your moans, back arching into his touch. you needed more of him.

“spread your legs wider,” he ordered. you obliged, spreading them as much as you could, your pussy on display for him. “good fucking girl.”

when you felt his tip against your entrance, you knew you were in for a treat. he didn't bother putting a condom on, knowing that even if you got pregnant, it could only make him a happier man.

“i'm gonna tell you one thing,” he murmured, his voice steady yet harsh. “i'm gonna breed your fucking pussy, mark my words.” you whined at his words, the idea of birthing his children going straight to your core.

“please, sti,” you begged him, hating the empty feeling that overwhelmed you. “cum inside me, get me pregnant please.”

when he thrusted into you, your vision went black for a good few seconds. he entered you with a loud groan, his eyes glinting with a burning desire that clouded his judgement. you moaned with him, your pussy clenching around his dick like no other. if only he had given you time to get used to the size of it. you pulled at your restraints, pleasure clashing with pain at the foreign size inside you. “s-stiles,” you begged him. “t-too big, please.” your pleads only came off as a joke to him, as he mocked your words.

“it sucks, doesn't it? when i have to put you in your place, split your pussy open?” he smirked at you from above, a dangerous spark in his eyes. “really should've thought about that before leaving the house like a cheap slut.”

tears stung in your eyes, but you couldn't ignore the way your wetness spread at his derogatory tone. it was impossible to ignore, with the way he was pounding into you at an impossible pace, hips slamming against your skin as he used you. he used you. he had turned you into his bitch in heat—screaming for more of his cock that made you delirious. he grabbed your jaw with one hand, breast with another as they began to bounce from his brutality. he watched the way tears spilled down your face from the pain, and he couldn't help the way they made his cock twitch. watching you cry like that had him cumming the first time in a matter of minutes. “keep crying—shit, fuck—cry for me, cry like a little bitch,” your first orgasm followed shortly after, cries of ecstasy passing your lips as you rode out your high. unfortunately, stiles wasn't planning on stopping.

the overstimulation was too much. stiles had himself on top of you, his legs spread farther apart in order to thrust into you at an animalistic pace, even faster and harder than the first time. you sobbed, sweaty hair sticking to your skin. he groped every part of your body, leaving bruises on your tits, waist and ass as he fucked you stupid. “come on, gorgeous, i know you've got another one for me,” he practically snarled, pounding into your sweet pussy as he thumbed your clit with a loose finger. you were so close, you could feel it. “it's too much, stiles, i can't,” you sobbed, but he wasn't having any of it.

“can you feel it? the way i'm fucking all this cum back into your little pussy?” the cum from his first orgasm had slipped out by a few drops, but he was right, it was all fucked back into you during your second round. “no one's gonna fucking touch you after i'm done with you. you're gonna be my little whore.”

“i'm all yours, sir,” you cries as his hands found its way around your throat. he gave your throat a squeeze, watching the way you moaned with your head back, boobs bouncing from the sheer force of his overpowering thrusts. “i'm your dirty whore and no one else's.”

when his thrusting reached a pace that seemed inhumane, you felt your second orgasm washing over you. you had to close your eyes to brace yourself for when it came, but when it did, it was twice as good as the first. you moaned when you squirted, juices coating his dick as it began to throb aggressively inside you, a string of curses leaving his mouth as hs held onto your tits, lips parting as he finally came a second time. he came loudly, thick, hot spurts of his cum filling you up twice in a row.

when he pulled out, he could only watch in satisfaction at the sight of your pussy overflowing with his cum.

you were worn out, an empty feeling striking you as you locked eyes with stiles. he couldn't help but smile at you, planting a kiss on your forehead.

in each other's arms, you found solace—a solace that resonated with the knowledge that, even in the heart of darkness, love could thrive.

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