Riptide (PirateJunkratXFem.Reader)

#10= Pity

There was no need to repeat your sentence this time, around seeing as, the moment those few words of dopey ardour had slipped from your thin lips, you were restrained against the mattress by your shoulders with a jolt of rough mannered hands so uncomfortably remorselessly that you couldn't dare to choke up a single word anyway.

Not that it was necessary regardless, you knew where this was headed either way. You had asked for this course. And you knew what you were in for. More or less... You knew the captain wouldn't have the composure to deny himself that amusement of your wretchedness by his doing, and with your blatant invite, you knew there was no reason for the willowy man to feel any pity on you either when he was done with what was left of your self-regard.

You knew if there was anything the blond pirate adored, it was your hurt. In whatever way that may be. "I thought you weren't into pity fucking, Rat? You can't ever make up your mind, can you? It's almost like you're inadequate to command a pirate ship with a will that dicey and unforeseeable." You wisecrack, whilst the tall man was too preoccupied ungently snatching your wrists over your head than to laugh at your little quip, pinning both your hands down against the sheets with the unyielding prosthetic hand to his right. Tightly enough to gnash against your bones, forcing a hissed mutter from your grinning lips.

"I'm makin' n' exception with the pity-policy for a brat this mouthy. After all, it would be a damn, bloody pity not t' get ya t' shut up. Besides, It'll be a hate fuck when I'm done with ya insolent face. I'll make very, very sure a' that." Was the only form of growled, absent minded response you receive upon your inquiry, while your hands were ungracefully fettered against one of the posterbeds poles with the helps of a rugged, worn down leather belt that tore on your joints and cut into your skin every inch you dared move. A sharp burning sensation searing through your veins every instance you had the nerve to squirm.

Internally, in the interim, you felt the oddest sensation of a almost sadistic joy creep up in your sentiment. It was like you were anxious to get yourself into trouble, to get yourself used and hurt like some adrenaline junkie who just wanted another mordant rush of exultation in their body.

Which you noticed as rather strange, as you had never felt such a want to get yourself battered before, especially not in that scenario. But your skin was itching to be torn to shreds, your heedlessly brash smirk the only physical evidence for that outside your impatient writhing.

"We'll see about that, won't we, captain? But I'm warning you, I won't do you the favour of crying this time around. You'll have to try your damn hardest if you want to get a mere whine from me." You hissed between your own excited breaths just in order to spite him.

You heard a vague chuckle from the pirates raspy throat as he absentmindedly looked your restrained form over, a haughty, almost maliciously victorious countenance on his face as his icy fingertips tailed down the scabbed, deep wound that emblazoned your torso like ill-applied war paint. You could tell that's what he had mostly set his eyes on - Your red hot blood. And for the first time, you caught yourself not caring.

"Big words commin' from such a lachrymose pipsqueak. Better be careful with that audacious tongue ya 'ave there, dollface, it may just come back t' bite ya. Especially since, well," The captained singsonged, nonchalantly retreating a razor-edged blade from his belt, slightly tracing it over your still scarlet lacerations mockingly, a disgustingly supercilious grin on his lips, "Ya are at my mercy now. N' I decide what 'appens t' ya now. So I'll kindly advise ya t' pick a God n' pray while ya can still form coherent sentences."

The thin, razor edged blade in his prosthetic hand mesmerized you a tad bit too much to pay much attention to the treats being cooed into your ears with a voice near heckled through it's blatant lechery, a shiver racing down your spine, and you felt the most puzzling need to just scoff at the blond pirate further. You had the presentiment that the more you kept spurning him, the more he'd be inclined to prove you wrong. Which at that point was exactly what you wanted at that point. You wanted him to make you shut up.