stockholm syndrome.

- one.

You woke up, hitting your head on a hard, fabric covered surface. Judging by the lack of light and almost constant movement, you were in a trunk. Soon, the car jerked to a stop, and you heard and felt the door slam closed.

You heard an unfamiliar voice come your way, "Essketit!" You quickly shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Soon, the trunk opened. "Ay, I know you ain't sleep. Wake yo ass the fuck up," the voice said. You obliged, slowly sitting up and letting your eyes adjust to the light. When your eyes were fully adjusted, you took in the sight of your kidnapper. Blonde and pink dreads, and tattoos scattering his tan body. He cut the zip-ties off of you, letting you get out on your own. You stumbled, due to not having used your limbs, to which he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your arm, assisting you into his mansion. "Ay, wha's yo name?"

You were silent until he gave you a look. "(y/n)," you finally spoke, with a raspy voice, due to not using it.

"Well I Lil Pump, and you my new bitch."

Your (e/c) eyes widened, "Nah, I swear on YEEEZY if you'n let me the fuck outchea. I'm not finna sit here and be called no damn bitch."

"Look, you ain't going nowhere. You here to serve me, and you ca' get paid if you good."

Your eyes might as well had been dollar signs then, if it was for money you were in.

Okay, it wasn't just that. It was also for this fine ass gas pedal nigga.

You nodded in response, following him to what would be your new room.