#and that’s a lie

[denaliwrites]

Run Rabbit Run

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader

Summary: (18+) Cale loves a good chase.

Soundtrack: Run Rabbit Run by Flanagan & Allen

Requests: Open!

Warnings: It's Cale Erendreich and it's smut. Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Primal Play, Restraints, CNC. Very brief choking.

Your heart hammered erratically in your chest, a wild songbird beating against its cage for a freedom it could never have -- a freedom that'd kill it.

You could feel trickles of blood dripping down your arms and the stinging pain of the seeping cuts forced a choked sob from your throat.

The sound of a door opening nearby startled you into stillness, body pressing deeper into the darkest corner you could find. You willed your body to hold silent for just a minute, just until you heard footsteps receding.

You received no such luck, and it was getting harder and harder to repress your body's instinctive urges.

"You better fucking run," Cale called from the end of the hall. "If I catch you, I'm going to fucking gut you like the little bunny you are. You hear me?"

Oh, you heard him. Loud and clear.

Finally, you heard the sound of him going down the stairs. You waited another minute, then carefully crawled from your hiding place.

You just needed to reach the front door. You just needed to get out of the house. That's all you had to do.

You stopped at the door, listening as carefully as your fear-addled brain would allow, for any signs he'd come back. Hearing only silence, you turned the knob at a torturously slow pace, and cracked the door open just as slowly.

This was a mistake.

It creaked just before it was wide enough for you to slip through, and somewhere below you a foot stomped. You imagined Cale turning, trying to pinpoint where exactly upstairs that sound had emanated from. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Having given your position away, you stood quickly and slammed the door shut behind you, but padded carefully to the end of the hall. You looked over the banister, watching him turn towards the stairs.

He hadn't seen you yet.

Silently, you padded past the stairs, opening the door closest to them and slipping inside just as his footsteps started ascending.

You realized when you turned around that you were in a bedroom.

It was... sterile. Pristine. There was no decor, only a white nightstand beside a plain bed with white covers. The walls were white. There was no closet for you to hide in, but the bed had space underneath it. If you needed to, you could hide.

Instead, you turned to the door, pressing your ear to it. You could hear him at the other end of the hallway, checking rooms.

Slowly, delicately, you pulled the door open to peek outside.

He wasn't looking in your direction, hadn't seemed to notice the door opening.

You seized your opportunity. You threw the door open with a bang and darted down the stairs, not even caring that he'd heard you and was now chasing after you. You had the advantage, you could see the front door and were in the clear.

You were two bounds away from freedom when Cale's impossibly solid arm wrapped tightly around your throat, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

Nails dug into his arm, scrabbling in a desperate bid for both air and freedom.

"Oh, you were so close," he purred into your ear, licking the shell tauntingly.

The gravity of the situation fueled you, and with a rush of adrenaline, you sent your elbow up into his ribcage. He shouted in pain and dropped to his knees, and when his arm was no longer around your neck you made a break for it.

"Not so fucking fast," he growled. His hand wrapped around your ankle and you went tumbling down.

You expected it to hurt more, but you realized that he'd padded your fall -- and in fact, the whole floor -- with fluffy white rugs.

This man really did prepare for every eventuality.

He climbed up your body, flipping you over once his hand reached your shoulder. "That was a valiant effort," he praised you, his voice still edged with a note of predatory delight. "But I'll take my reward, now."

Tears sprang to your eyes in anticipation as the metallic glint of his knife caught your attention. It was there and then it was gone, and you didn't need the searing pain that followed to tell you where it had gone.

"I told you I was gonna gut you," he sighed as a trail of blood dribbled from the fresh cut along your belly to the white rug underneath you. "What a beautiful little bunny you are, bleeding for me."

You sobbed in pain as he made a perfectly symmetrical slice into the opposite side of your belly, yet even as you did you felt a jolt of arousal reach between your thighs.

"Oh, what was that?" he teased mercilessly, the tip of his knife trailing down your gut to press dangerously against your underwear. "Does this excite you, bunny?"

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reply, of you admitting --

"Answer me!" he roared, blade digging in even more.

With a pitiful moan, you cried, "Yes! God, yes!"

You could feel your excitement pooling in the pit of your stomach, and by the appreciative sound he made, you suspected Cale could see just what effect he was having on you.

"Oh, bunny," he sighed in praise, smirking as his knife trailed away from the apex of your thighs and down, slicing little rivulets into the delicate skin of your inner thighs, blood dripping down onto the rug below.

Your thighs were shaking, both from the pain and in the effort to keep them open, to keep yourself exposed to him. For your efforts he placed a tender kiss to your knee, then trailed several more down your thigh until he reached the waistband of your underwear.

"I don't think you need these anymore," he said casually, before using his knife to cut them apart. You whimpered as the cold metal touched your skin, as the fabric of your underwear fell away uselessly.

"That's a good bunny," he praised you again, leaning forward so that he could kiss you fully on the lips. You tasted your blood on him, felt his smirk as you moaned when the coppery tang flooded your senses.

"I wonder," he started, tone playful, "if I can make you cum with this." He held the knife up for you to see, and you eyed it warily, though you also couldn't help the pleased little shudder that coursed through you at the sight of it stained with your blood.

"P-please, Cale," you begged in a whimper. You weren't even sure what you were begging for.

"Roll over," he commanded suddenly, and you obeyed like the good little pet you were. His hands were delicate as they took hold of your arms, carefully bending them so that they were behind your back. You heard him undoing his tie, and a moment later your hands were tied tightly.

"C-Cale," you whined, testing the restraint. "Cale--"

"Shut up," he barked, and your words immediately died on your tongue.

He moved so that he was kneeling over you, knee pressing down into your back, and it felt like he was putting all his weight into it.

Desperate, fearful, electric pants rocked your body as your lungs clawed for more air, but he didn't let up, even as your vision blurred around the edges.

Just when you couldn't take anymore, just when you were mere moments from passing out, he finally eased up, and faster than you could process you were back on your back, arms pinned beneath you.

He laughed as you took great gulping gasps of breath.

You'd barely caught your breath when his knife cut into your skin again, making you keen as twin cuts sprang forth along your previously untouched thigh. "Cale," you gasped, hips rolling for his attention.

"In time," he promised you.

"Please," you begged. "Please..."

You wanted him inside you, filling you, fucking you.

The look he gave you was contemplative. But you could see you weren't winning him over -- not yet.

"D-don't you want to... to claim your prize?" you asked, hips twitching eagerly as another cut sent another jolt of pleasure down.

"... What do you think I'm doing right now?" he deadpanned.

"Y-you're gutting me," you whined. "But it's not the same. You know it's not. Claim me, Cale."

That did it. You saw the change in his eyes, the hunger, the predatory drive.

You heard the unbuckling of his belt and had to bite back the triumphant smirk that threatened to ruin it all.

His hands wandered up your bloody thighs, smearing the red all over you and wetting his hands with it. You knew what he was doing, and it only served to send more electric pleasure down your spine.

You gasped as two of his fingers entered you, stretching you and preparing you for his cock. Felt the still-warm blood coating your insides.

"Fuck, Cale," you whimpered desperately.

"I'm getting to that," he chuckled darkly.

And, indeed, he was. Once he was satisfied that you were wet enough to take him, he wasted no time pressing his cock into you. A sharp thrust of his hips sent it in to the hilt, and you keened as the feeling of him filling you sent you over the edge.

He grunted as your body constricted around him, walls squeezing tightly around his cock.

"Oh, God," you moaned as you came down, pants of exertion breezing past your lips.

"That was quick," he sighed, though there was no trace of annoyance or anger in his tone. And it didn't stop him from using you as a cocksleeve, anyway.

His hips pulled back, eliciting a moan he found rather delicious, even more so as it drew out into a cry when he snapped his hips back into your own.

"Cale, I'm gonna--"

"So soon?" he asked teasingly, and you only gave a pouty huff in response. "I must've--" he cut himself off with a sharp thrust, "really done a number on you this time."

You looked up at him with hazy, love drunk eyes that quickly lost focus as his cock hit something particularly sensitive inside you and you squealed, contracting around him in shock and pleasure.

"Ooh, I gotta keep doing that," he chuckled wickedly, and sure enough, on his next thrust he made sure to hit the same angle, and you squealed again, walls constricted again.

He wasn't delicate in his fucking after finding that spot. In fact, he rather brutally pounded at that same place, over and over, and if you hadn't been so lost in your building orgasm you'd think that you were probably gonna be very sore in the morning.

With a few savage final thrusts, you felt warmth as Cale spilled his seed inside you, and you tumbled over the edge with him, crying out in ecstasy as you came again.

He pet your hair as you came down, withdrawing only once he was sure you were done. You were barely aware of him pulling you up, of him undoing the tie around your wrists, or of him picking you up and carrying you up the stairs to his bedroom.

The last thought you had before sleep claimed you was how you couldn't wait for Cale to hunt you down again.

[xzyumi]

tang dynasty miku

[youthofpandas]

What’s up with how the dunmeshi fandom just lies about this kind of stuff all the time. It is easily confirmable information that it was a monthly series, something incredibly common in the industry.

A not weekly magazine schedule is literally common !! Especially in the seinen shoujo and josei demographics, sometimes monthly, sometimes biweekly, sometimes every two months, sometimes seasonal! Please stop lying about how Dunmeshi was some special unique creation that defies all standards of manga just to hype it up because it is so clear that every single one of these comparisons is centered around Weekly Shonen Jump (and understand that SJ has many magazines under its brand that are monthly or semimonthly). Not everything is WSJ and it needs to stop being the only point of reference in conversations like this 🤧

[staruie]

where my fellow monster fuckers at 👅👅👅👅👅👅

[lesbianralzarek]

"life doesnt get better, you just get stronger" does NOT include ages 11-17. life does in fact just get better from there. those years are dogshit. like, you do get stronger but its mostly just a factor of not being 11-17 anymore. positive thinking helps but it doesnt fix whatevers going on at 15, you have to brute force through that one raw

[krembruleed]

astarion is cheating

[enviousmoons]

I.. feel like I need to go to a ren faire.

[decamarks]

Thinking of becoming a guy that thinks wolves are the most badass and aspirational animal, but about ants. Like wearing t-shirts about being loyal to my Queen and training to bench 5x my bodyweight. Studying ant warfare. Posting shit like this

[ruporas]

don’t worry about me. goodbye, big brother

[asweetprologue]

this is so devastating. laois should have just shot him with a gun

[hinamie]

10 years later

[feluka]

cat laziness is so contagious. you'll see your cat flopped on its back in your bed a completely comfy cozy baby and you'll be like. you're right. you make a compelling argument.

[sabugabr]

Hold fast. Brave the storm

[typewriter-worries]

The New York Times did a piece titled 100 Small Acts of Love and these are some of my favorites 💕

[sofuss-y]

deadpool, wolverine, and the child deadpool baby trapped him with, dogpool !!!!

[teaboot]

If I can recommend you do 1 low-effort thing for the love of God it is this:

Keep 5 cards in your pocket. One will say "yes", the second will say "no."

If you lose your voice, or lose speech, or want to make a dramatic embellishment at the right time, it is an elegant and efficient solution that is right there at hand.

But what if people question you from there? "Why do you have that card? Why would you do this? How long have you had that in your pocket?" For this, or whatever else they say, the third card: "I don't have a card for that."

"What the fuck," they ask. They laugh. They are bemused. You bring the energy back down with the fourth card: "I have laryngitis. I've lost speech. My throat hurts". Whatever you expect to occur.

The joke is over. Rule of threes. Now they are curious. They wonder about logistics. "How did you know I would say that? Is everyone so predictable?"

As a three-part bit, nobody ever sees the fifth card coming.

"I have powerful wizard magics."

Gets them every time