#with sadistic leanings to boot

[notfeelingthyaster]

like i get bruce won't kill joker or whatever (boooooooooo 🙄) but doesn't new jersey or gotham have death penalty? if not, there's no way for joker to be tried by federal justice after how many war crimes this man committed? and then promptly executed, bc i don't think the insanity plea holds to multiple accounts of mass murder, serial killing and premeditated kills

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]

Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

W.C 3.8k

Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋

{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️

He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”

Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!

He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.

“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.

“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.

You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.

He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”

The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.

“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”

He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.

“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.

“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.

A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”

Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.

“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”

The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”

His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.

You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.

You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.

Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”

“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.

Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.

Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”

You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.

He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”

You’re so fucked.

-

“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.

“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.

“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”

You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”

Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”

“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”

She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”

“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”

“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”

“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,

“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”

“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.

“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”

“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.

The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.

It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.

Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”

He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”

You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?

“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”

Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.

Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”

“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”

You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”

“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”

“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”

Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”

“I’d rather drop dead.”

“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.

The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.

“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”

Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.

Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.

A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.

“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”

-

Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.

The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.

“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”

“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.

“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?

“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “

“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.

“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.

“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.

“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.

“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”

A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.

Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.

“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”

You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.

Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.

Oh— this mother fucker.

“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.

Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.

“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.

A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.

“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.

Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”

You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.

vol ii

volume ii

A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋

Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)

[d1s1ntegrated]

i’ve been listening to this song on repeat and can’t get shiggy out of my head. can you please write something along these lines, cause oh my god would this be so hot🥵

porn star dancing shigaraki pov x stripper reader

summary: dabi drags shigaraki to a "titty bar" for his 21st birthday, because "being a virgin at 21 is like a dog who's never had a biscuit". 

cw: quirkless au! dabi and shiggy are best friends, drinking, strip club setting, shiggy's pov, alt!reader, oral virginity loss, language, nudity, oral (male rec), groping, whining, pining, slightsub!tomura, virgin!tomura, slightlydom!reader, teasing, private lap dance, happy ending lol, handjob, headshoving, dirty talk, basically just shiggy being an epic simp loser. wc: ~4230 words

this is from tomura's pov. i felt it would convey his sluttiness best :)

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

"GET OFF THE GAME, DUMBASS. WE'RE GOING OUT". dabi's voice shouts from down the hall. i sigh and roll my eyes, yanking my headset off my head. usually, i'd ignore him, but i knew he wouldn't leave me alone today. i tried not to make a big deal about it, but he's been making a stink about my birthday for months now, as if drinking legally at a bar would feel any different than drinking illegally in my room. but, hell, if it gets him to shut up, i guess.

i groan and stretch myself out of my gaming chair, giving my prized possession a solemn goodbye, and trod out of my room. dabi is waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall. "there you are, freak. you ready to go get wasted with a bunch of topless bitches?" he looks me up and down, smiling sadistically. i shrug, and he pats my shoulder.

"come on, lets get trashed." i know i can't argue with him, so i follow him out the door, thinking about how badly i'd rather go back to my room and play league. whatever.

---------------------------------------------------- the club is sketchy, to say the least. a dark grey exterior with no windows, just one neon sign above that reads "the silk iris" in flashy pink lettering. at least it's not named some weird shit like "vixen den".

i suck air in through my teeth as dabi lights a cigarette next to me. "can we go home?" i say miserably next to him. he chuckles, taking a long drag.

"fuck no, shigs. we're goin' in, and i'm gonna tell those pretty girlies in there that it's your birthday" he flashes his teeth at me and instead of a smile, i see a predator baring its fangs in warning. fuck my life. i try to beg him not to, but he's unreceptive.

"please, dabi, i'll go in, fine, but dont tell them shit, please" i clasp my hands together and shake them at him, as if im praying. but if dabi was a god, he was a cruel and evil one, who doesn't answer prayers.

"fine fine, shigaraki. i'll be nice, i promise." he curls his lips and tosses the finished cigarette to the ground, crushing the filter under his boot. he grabs my shoulder and guides me with an iron grip to the door. "lets go!" he slaps my back hard and i grimace. no going back now.

the door pushes open and immediately, the smell of heavy smoke and cheap cologne rushes my sinuses. theres another door between the club and the entrance, and a part of me wishes i could just sit in the lobby all night. but dabi whips his id out, and i reluctantly follow. we flash them at the bouncer, who nods and grins wide when he sees mine. "happy birthday man. have fun". his voice is gruff and deep, his body towering over mine. i force a slight smile, and nod "thanks" before begrudgingly going through the door.

the lights are low, thank god. deep reds and purples accent the darkly-painted walls, and the carpet is patterned with some vampiric-looking textile, and i study it intently. the music is so loud, the bass shakes my eardrums, and i groan. if i'm gonna be here all night, i'm gonna need a drink. dabi knows this already, and he drags me over to the bar and nods to an empty stool. i slink onto the worn leather and he yanks my hood off my head before he sits next to me. i grumble but he ignores me, and flags down the bartender.

a tall, slender girl in a very tiny bikini top struts over, big pearly smile on her face. her red hair curls gently around her face, and she greets us with a very peppy voice. "hi boys! what can i get for ya?"

dabi eyes the girl up and down and leans back in his seat a bit, giant smirk plastered to his face. his piercings tug at his lips as he answers, "hey doll. it's actually my buddy's birthday today," he claps my shoulder again and i shrink into myself, "what do you recommend?"

the girl claps her hands together and jumps a bit. "happy birthday sweetheart!" those teeth smile at me again, somehow wider than last time. she turns back to dabi and asks, "is this his first time?"

dabi answers with a bellowing laugh, "ohhh yeah. shig's gonna turn into a man tonight" he nudges me and i force out a laugh.

"well, shig," the bartender drags my name out sleazily, "i have just the thing for you." she trots away from us for a few moments, returning with a shot glass full of a bright green substance. "you like fruity drinks?" she asks and nods at me. i shrug and reply "i'm not sure". she lets out a high-pitched giggle and looks to dabi.

"and for you?""whatever's on tap, sweetheart. and a shot of jameson." his voice is low and he's still grinning. she returns half a second later with a tall beer glass, and a little shot of whiskey. she nods at us and says as she tends to another customer now, "ill start a tab for you boys."

i hesitantly pick up the shot glass and dabi picks his up with me. he raises his brows and laughs. "take the shot, pussy". he clinks his glass against mine and i take a deep breath as we take the first shot. it goes down surprisingly easy, much easier than the cheap whiskeys and vodkas i'm used to. its...actually fucking delicious. the bartender notices us and claps. she brings me another one a minute later and i take it fearlessly, the liquid shooting down to my core, warming me up. "thats a green tea shot, love. just in case you wanna order some more" she winks at me as she slides another shot to dabi, "my shift ends in about 5 minutes, so you'll have to order them yourself from now on! happy birthday, sweetie!" i smile at her, feeling my nerves slowly melting away. i thank her and turn to dabi.

"this isn't so bad" i give him a thumbs-up, and he returns it. he picks up the tiny glass and shoots it back, chasing it with the remainder of his beer. he blinks away the burn and shakes his head. "bartender was cute, eh?" he stifles a belch into his fist and claps my back again. "lets go, emo boy." i slide off the stool and follow him.

he leads me to a couple of seats near the stage. i did my best to avoid looking before, but now it was right in front of me. a couple of girls, about six or seven, were twirling around poles, walking up and down the stage, as men greedily shove their hands to touch them, stroke their legs, grab their asses. some shove dollar bills into their waistbands, others hand them bigger bills: tens, twenties, even some fifties. i scoff and take a seat next to dabi, who's already got his wallet out. he hands me a wad of ones, and i sigh.

"i'm not gonna shove my hands into some poor girls panties," i say to him. he glares at me and rolls his eyes. "the more you shove in there, the closer you get to having it, shig. its like buying pussy, bro. come on, just watch." he stands and leans over the stage as a short blonde crawls over, and he beckons her with a finger. he slides his hand over her barely-clothed tits and shoves a couple bills between them. she blows a kiss at him and stands, spinning around a pole and waving at a few of the men before the girls rotate. this goes on for a few minutes, and i feel myself growing uncomfortable with myself.

i grit my teeth and stand next to dabi, and do my best to entice one of the girls over to me. however, once the girl comes over to me, i panic, and end up just handing her a few of the bills in my hand. i wave and immediately smack myself in the face. stupid idiot, what the fuck was that? dabi notices my folly and laughs at me and shakes his head.

"you dumbass, what the hell was THAT?" he raises his voice over the music and i purse my lips.

"i dont know" i say quietly. my head is spinning from the alcohol. i groan and sit back in my seat, afraid to embarrass myself further. suddenly, the music quiets down, and a voice rings through the speaker, announcing a solo act. "please welcome the beautiful, the terrifying, the eat-your-heart-out....calypso!" the group of men cheer as they hear the name. i look confused as the lights switch to a deep sanguine red, and the music switches over from the bass-boosted r&b and rap to metal. a few of the men get up and go to the bar, but watch as they order drinks.

dabi gets up and i call out for him, but he raises a hand and says, "im getting drinks, dude chill! you'll be fine for two minutes!!" the lights brighten again as a girl comes onto the stage. she, like the others, is dressed scantily, but...differently. my eyes widen as she approaches further. she grabs one of the poles and swings her leg around it, and i can't peel my eyes away. her thigh grips the metal, her fishnets so tight against her, i can see the soft skin poking through the holes. the material stretches thin over her ass, which is plump, with only a tiny g-string to cover it. she drops to the floor and lays on her back, her tits spreading in the top as men grab at her, and she slaps them away. they cheer and lay the bills onto the stage, and she gradually grabs the money, shoving it down her top herself.

dabi returns and hands me another shot. i swiftly take it, not taking my eyes off the dancer on the stage. she wraps her hands around another pole and spins a few times before dropping back down, onto her knees this time. i bite my lip and dabi nudges me with his elbow.

"you like that one, shiggy?" he shouts over the heavy guitar solo. i nod slowly and watch her intently. he chuckles beside me and nods. calypso gets to the edge of the stage and i smack the rest of the ones i have in my hand right next to her tall, chunky boots. she notices me and stares down at me and licks her lips, and i feel myself melt. she bends over slowly and grabs the cash, and drags her long fingernail up my neck and jaw. i gulp as she winks at me and whispers something, but i cant hear her over the music.

i feel myself twitch in my pants. i smile weakly up at her and she turns away, collecting the rest of the money on the wooden floor. she then slowly grabs one of the strings of her top and pulls it, slowly unraveling the knot. she spins around as she pulls the top off completely, and tosses it haphazardly in my direction. i scramble up from my seat and grasp at it, unable to control my impulses. i greedily fist it and shove it into my hoodie pocket, hoping she doesn't notice who took it. i fling back in my seat and dabi high fives me.

"WOOOOO! ATTA BOY!" he shouts at me and downs the rest of his glass. i look back up to calypso on the stage, spinning around another pole sleazily. her movements are fluid and flawless, and i swallow the excess drool in my mouth as i watch her. the way her tits look, her supple curves, the jiggle of her ass against the metal and wood as she dances around the stage. none of the other women on the stage before had gotten my attention, but...she did. i cover my lap with my hands and spread my legs to hide the raging hard-on against my tight jeans.

the song ends after an excruciating few minutes and i let out the breath i didnt know i was holding. as she exists the stage, she drags a clawed hand against the mirror wall at the back of the stage. the whole crowd cheers, a few of the men going so far as to shout her name out. the next solo act comes out and i stand up, deciding to hide in the bathroom for a second. fuck, this doesnt look odd or anything.

i tap dabi's shoulder and tell him "i gotta piss, i'll be back" and he just nods as he stares intently at the next dancer.

i rush into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking the stall. i sigh and press myself against the shoddy stall door and yank the top i shoved into my pocket out. i press it to my face and inhale. my cock jumps in my pants as i do so, and i stifle a moan. it smells so sweet, and spicy, and just so fucking good. i palm at the front of my jeans as i inhale. fuck, her tits were in here. fuck. i rub my thumb over the soft material, imagining how it rubbed against her nipples, how the strings tugged at the weight of her tits. i shudder and shake my head, shoving the top back into my pocket. not here. i'll have all the time in the world to get off once i'm home, i remind myself. don't be the guy that jerks it in the public bathroom.

i gather myself as best as possible, splashing water on my face before exiting the bathroom. i shiver at the cold on my feverish face and push the heavy door open to see dabi standing outside, grinning maniacally.

"guess what, birthday bitch?" he tilts his head at me and chuckles. i stare with genuine fear as he points to one of the doors across from me.

"you see those doors, buddy?" i nod my head. "you know what's behind those doors?" i shake my head. the third door to the right opens and a man exits, looking absolutely blown away. a girl in a tight white bikini exists after him, looking distracted. fuck.

"dabi, nonononono, i do NOT want a private dance, nonono please" i tug at his jacket and he shakes me off.

"too bad, buddy. you're gettin' one." i whimper out in fear and clench my jaw. "come on, dumbass. youre 21 now. and youre still a virgin. it's kinda sad. at least get the experience of a lap dance, my god."

"dabi, i do not want a lap dance, i want to go-"

"shigaraki, a virgin at 21 is like a puppy who's never had a biscuit before. now go. second door. have fun!" he laughs evilly again and saunters off to the bar again, leaving me to my own devices.

i could run right now, or...

or i could man up and go get a fucking lap dance.

in private.

with a girl.

fuck it, i say to myself and go up to the second door. i take a deep breath and turn the knob, entering slowly. its empty.

what the fuck?

i take a seat on the giant plush....couch? futon? bed thing? i'm not quite sure, but it wraps around the room in a U-shape. the walls are made of all mirrors, with a sound system laid into the wall, and speakers next to the ceiling. i sit in the middle of the leather seats and scratch my neck anxiously. either dabi set me up real good, or...

a knock at the door startles me out of my thought and i look up. the door swings open and swiftly shuts. i recognize the body...the face...calypso walks in and raises her brows at me. every bit of my drunkenness dissipates at the sight.

"you're the birthday boy, huh? that's convenient. can i get my top back?" she says, her voice low and drawn out. she stares down at me and my eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. she's wearing something different now: a tight red top with a thong, pulled up around her hips, accentuating her curves. her boots are frighteningly large, thick leather straps and buckles crossing over her calves and thighs.

i fumble over my words as i pull the top out of my pocket, "i, how did you kn- i'm sorry" i wince at my own voice, and she laughs.

"giant mirror. the look on your face. i'm not dumb" she leans in and whispers the last lines into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"oh...okay" i choke out. "sorry" i repeat, and she stands.

"good boy" she nods, and presses a button on the stereo. "porn star dancing" begins to play. i bite my lip and look up at her nervously. she traces my jaw with her nail, just like she did earlier, and climbs into my lap.

"do you want a lap dance, pretty boy?" her voice is sweet and sultry in my ears. i grip her thighs instinctively as she grinds into me slightly and i nod furiously. any intention i had of resisting is gone, as i glance at her ass in the mirror across from us. her thighs are warm and plush, and as she stands back up, i have to stifle my whimper. she turns around and bends over, giving me the perfect view of her ass. i reach out to grab it, and she turns around.

"ah ah, no touching yet, pretty boy." i exhale hard at the way the nickname rolls off her tongue. she continues to bend and sway in front of me, and my desperation grows. my saliva builds rapidly at the sight of her supple body teasing me, and i swallow hard again.

she brings herself back to face me, pushing her soft tits against me. they smell the same as her top, soft and spicy and sweet. i moan and plant a kiss to the flesh and she lets out a soft "hmm". i take this as an okay to touch her, and i bring my hand down hard on her ass, gripping it tightly. she gasps and flashes her wild eyes at me. she sits fully in my lap, grinding her ass against me, bouncing and bending on me.

i cant help but harden back up, my cock beating against it's jean prison again. my breath quickens as she slides off, and suddenly drags a hand to my upper thigh, squeezing it hard. i gasp at the touch and she laughs, a sickeningly seductive smile painting her beautiful face. my eyes roll back as she palms the front of my jeans.

wait.

i look to her now as she licks her lips and bites her lip. she drops down to her knees, her eyes glassy and half-shut as she stares up at me. i look at her in the mirror again, seeing her boots pressing against her plump ass again. i groan and push my hair back, and she fiddles with the front of my pants.

"your friend out there said you were a virgin, is that right?" she draws out, wicked and teasing. i nod and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "you want me to fix that?" she questions nonchalantly as she pops the button of my jeans.

"wait, what?" i stumble, and she chuckles softly.

"i don't do this for everyone, you know." she points a cruel finger at me, "but when i saw how desperate you got out there, i honestly wondered if i could break you. thank god your friend asked me for the dance, otherwise i'd have to come find you myself" she laughs lowly, and i shiver.

i cant find the words, so i just nod furiously. she smiles up at me and unzips the front of my jeans. i help her by pushing down my boxers, letting my cock spring free. she gives a soft surprised look, and i furrow my brows.

"you're much bigger than i expected" she whispers, and wraps a hand lazily around my shaft. if i wasn't so turned on right now, i might take that offensively. but as she wraps her pouty lips around the tip, i throw my head back, ignoring any cues that this might not be a part of the lap dance.

her tongue swirls luridly around my tip, causing me to gasp. i'm already overstimulated, my cock twitching and jumping at her touch. she takes me deeper down her throat until her nose buries into my skin, and she lets out a low hum against the throbbing appendage. as i moan, she wraps her hand back around, sliding it alongside where she sucks me off, the doubled sensation causing my hips to buck up. she giggles around my dick as she sucks it, and i tangle my pale fingers into her hair. its so soft, just like the rest of her. she moans softly at the sensation of me pulling it, and i whimper. she pulls off of me with a gentle "pop" and i groan.

"you sound so fucking pathetic, pretty boy" she whispers.

"t-tomura. call me tomura" i choke out in rushed breath, and she nods.

"tomura. pretty name for a pretty boy" she nods, and i cant help but moan again at how she says my name. she brings my cock back into her mouth and drags her tongue all the way up, wrapping her soft fingers around my balls and squeezing gently. my body feels like its on fire and i start to feel myself breaking.

"ah-ah, ha, fuck" my breaths tangle with the mantra of swears and incoherent noises spilling from my mouth. i make no effort to stifle myself, there's no point. i grip her hair harder and she presses her teeth ever so slightly into the flesh of my cock, and i tremble. the sensations are driving me wild, and i completely lose control. i watch as her mouth slides up and down, her spit dripping down my length, tangling with the mess of precum already spilling from me.

"hnng, fuck, agh, ah ah, ah, i'm gonna" i whimper out, and she only looks up at me, not stopping. her grip on my balls tightens as i twitch inside her warm mouth, and the sight sends me over the edge.

"god, FUCK, fuck, ah, fuck, i'm cumming, oh fuck, i'm cumming" i pant out, and shove her head all the way down as my cock sputters. she chokes slightly around me as i feel the thick ribbons shoot down her tight throat. i whimper and moan out unapologetically, and she keeps sucking even after i finish, sending volts of electricity through my entire body. she pulls off of me sloppily, a string of drool and cum dripping from her lips. i twitch as the aftershock rumbles through me, feeling the alcohol (and blood) rush back to my head. my breathing staggered. she wipes her mouth with the bottom of my hoodie, and stands.

"you did such a good job, tomura" her voice is slightly raspy as she praises me, and strokes my face. i smile weakly up at her.

"th-thank you, calypso" i breathe out, and she returns the soft smile.

"happy birthday, pretty boy" she turns the music down and heads for the door.

"wait" i bleat out, and she turns, "can we...can i see you again?" she laughs with an exhale, and grins.

"come back next weekend." she replies, and my heart seizes. i nod and look at the floor.

"can i have your number?" i ask quietly.

she chuckles and shakes her head no.

"do you want...the top back?" i hand it to her, and she shakes her head.

"consider it your birthday present." and she walks out the door before i can respond. i shove the top back in my pocket and fix my clothes, checking myself in the mirror before exiting a couple minutes after her.

as always, dabi is standing across from the door, unlit cigarette hanging from his lip. "how'd it go, buddy?" he chortles, and i look up at him.

"we're coming back next weekend" i say, and without another word, i head out the front doors. the bouncer nods at us as we exit, and dabi follows behind with a "fuck yes!".

when we return home, i fling myself into my bed and yank the top out of my pocket. i examine every speck of glitter, the tag, everything. i slip the padding out of it, just for shits, and notice in thin black ink:

"your lucky day.

XXX-XXX-XXXX."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

hope u enjoyed! i finished this at 3:50am and poured my whole ass heart into it. i had a lot of fun writing this :D

lmk if i should write more from shigs pov, or if a reader pov would be better, i tried to be experimental ;-;

thank u for the request as always!!

xoxo

[ghostboneswrites2]

Crush (2)

<- (1)

Summary: In this continuation of Crush, you and Daryl struggle to survive together against both outside threats and interpersonal turmoils.

Warnings: profanity, TWD typical violence, allusions to intended SA, grief/trauma, mean!Daryl, angst, kind of lengthy, lots of action in this one, not proofread, typed on my phone, mild comfort/fluff at the end

A/N: Some canon divergence here! In the show, the Claimers are first seen in an interaction with Rick. For storytelling purposes, the first and only interaction with the Claimers is with you and Daryl. This also didn’t necessarily go in the direction I originally intended 😬

(Masterlist) (Taglist) (Daryl Dixon Fic Challenge)

dividers by @sister-lucifer

By the time the prison fell, you and Daryl had barely spoken a word to each other. You both seemed to decide that the easiest approach was no approach at all. Resolution and closure were far to unattainable to strive toward for either of you.

The day the Governor came back and destroyed your home, you almost perished with it. Had it not been for Daryl being there to drag you by the arm as he fled the scene, you’d have been walker-chow for sure. Your legs seemed to move on their own for a long time. Your mind had long since tapped out and left you running on autopilot. Days passed like this; wide traumatized eyes staring into the distance as you stumbled over crunching leaves, unfazed by protruding branches that scraped past and tore your clothes. You were dirty, hungry, thirsty, empty.

Daryl wasn’t much better off. I’m his desperate attempt at survival, he was violently forcing his trauma and grief down the hatch. He was wound tight as a thread, ready to snap at any moment.

Perhaps, in hindsight, this was the best case scenario for you both. Had either of you been in your right minds — in touch with your human inhibition — then neither of you would have survived the night that the Claimers attacked you.

The fire was the first mistake. It was a dry and cloudy night littered with gusts of chilly wind. With the lack of shelter to shield you from the harsh breeze, neither of you moved to put the fire out before bed. That was your second mistake: sleep. After all this time, you should have known sleep was a privilege you couldn’t afford.

“Well, what do we have here?” Joe mused from above, sadistic grin just barely visible in the dark. Your eyes were wide open in an instant, body scrambling to reach for a weapon before a baby boot impacted your chest, pinning you down in the dirt. You gasped, struggling to breathe under the weight of the man who led the Claimers. “Ah-ah… I’ll take that.” He chuckled as he reached down and unsheathed your knife.

Panicked, your eyes darted around in search of Daryl. He was already kicking and fighting as two other men held him back.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about your friend.” Joe sighed. “Or— Boyfriend? Husband? Uncle? Makes no difference, really.” He shook his head.

“I’m claimin’ the vest.” A scraggly man piped up, snickering through crooked yellow teeth.

“I got the crossbow.” Another one chimed in.

“And, I… claim you.” Joe concluded, leaning down over you, showering you in his rancid breath. You flared your nostrils in disgust as you squirmed under the worn rubber of his shoe. “No use in fightin, darlin’. Hell, if ya make it easy on me, I might even let one of ya walk away from this.”

As Joe straightened himself to listen his jeans, the weight of his foot on your chest lightened just enough for you to shove him off. He found amusement in this act of rebellion, having faith in his men to hold Daryl back and keep you in line for him. With two on Daryl, Joe on you, and one bystander on the lookout, the odds would have appeared to have been in his favor. The only flaw in this plan was the gun you had tucked in the back of your jeans.

As you pushed Joe’s foot away, the only response he afforded was a cocky laugh. Otherwise his attention was still set on the belt he had just unfastened, fingers moving toward his zipper. You took this moment to sit straight, pulling your gun from behind you and aiming it right at Joe’s head. The contented smirk her wore quickly faded as his fingers came to a halt. Slowly, he lifted his hands in the air and frowned at you.

The two men that held Daryl had been watching with hungry eyes up until this point, excited to see what Joe had in store for you. When your gun raised and Joe froze, their expressions dropped to show concern, eyes bouncing between you and their leader with anticipation.

“That was not a good idea.” Joe scolded you lowly, drawing the attention of the man keeping watch who lifted his gun and aimed it down at you. “You kill me, these guys are just gonna kill you.”

“So I finally get some good shut-eye and I get to take at least one of you assholes out with me?” You fired back coolly. Days and days running on autopilot had allowed you the calmness you felt under such immense pressure. The threat these men posed was not lost on you, but neither was the hopelessness of life on the run. You truly had nothing left to lose, except a life that didn’t really meet the criteria of living.

“Huh.” Joe clenched his jaw as he huffed, glaring at the other men as if they were to do something about the situation. Feeling the pressure of his pack-leader’s short fuse, one of the men hanging onto Daryl decided to reach for his knife and hold it up to Daryl’s temple.

“Drop it, or the boyfriend gets it.” The man threatened, lips curled into a proud smile. Daryl’s head hung slightly forward, greasy tufts of hair dangling over his eyes. He kept his sights on the man, ignoring the idiot on his other side who’s grip had listened enough to break free from had Daryl wanted to.

See, your strength may have been rooted in the ability to remove yourself — to shut off all parts of you that didn’t serve your survival — but Daryl’s strength was in his passion for survival. It was all he had known from boyhood to manhood, and he was good at it. He knew how to watch and wait for the time to strike. He had patience, he was resilient, and he was strong. If Daryl knew nothing else, he knew how to live. It was not only a primal instinct but a guiding principle. Devoid of love and connection, he was filled to the brim with determination and brute force. So, he analyzed.

The man who held him at knifepoint had a flimsy hold of his blade, and his grounding was amateurish. His body bounced side to side giddily and his feet held no real bearing on the ground. The other one seemed to have a careless hold on Daryl, not really focused on the fact that he was responsible for preventing Daryl from breaking free. He was too distracted by the stick-up between you, Joe, and their lookout.

Daryl knew he had a fair chance at turning the tables and gaining an upper hand on the band of brutes, he only needed to choose the right time. As he prepared to strike, his breaths quickened in pace, huffing loudly into the tense silence. The lookout turned his attention to Daryl for a moment, sim following his gaze. When the lookout’s eyes and gun made their way back to you, Daryl shoved his shoulder to his right as hard as he could, knocking the man with a knife to his temple off balance.

The man struggled to find his bearings. With the knife no longer an immediate threat, daryl was able to swiftly pull the other guy into a headlock. Now, he had a human shield, and the lookout nor the man with the knife could hurt him without hurting their friend.

Joe was growing impatient, but he had to remain calm. Things were quickly turning upside down, and he couldn’t afford for his men to make any more mistakes.

“Now boys.” He spoke up calmly as the lookout and the man with the knife kept their attention trained on Daryl. “We don’t wanna let things get too out of hand. I’m sure Len wouldn’t appreciate getting hit in the crossfire.”

You figured Len must’ve been the man Daryl was slowly choking to death in a headlock. You kept your gun aimed at Joe, deciding he was the main threat given his status amongst the others. With Daryl broken free and their leader at gun point, you realized you might have had the upper hand.

“The one with the gun.” You said.

“Tony.” Joe nodded.

“Tony.” You repeated. “Toss the gun to my friend.”

Tony hesitated, eyes pleading for guidance from Joe. Joes eyes traced around the camp, taking everything in, weighing his options. With a defeated sigh he nodded to Tony, who did as you demanded and tossed the gun over to Daryl’s feet. Daryl slid it closer to himself with the tip of his boot before dragging Len down with him to retrieve it. Now, you and Daryl both had a gun and a hostage. Daryl kept one arm around Len’s throat while the other pointed the gun and Tony and the guy with the knife. “Toss it.” Daryl ordered. Knife-Guy glanced around at his friends before reluctantly tossing the knife a few feet away.

“Now, lay down flat. Face down. Tony and the other one first.” You instructed. They obeyed. Daryl finally grew tired of Len’s choking sounds. He pushed Len to the ground and stepped on his back to keep him still. You finally looked to Daryl for any clues on what to do next.

Daryl glanced around, seemingly considering your silent request for guidance. He knew these men would have to die. It was the only way it could be.

Joe, though, a resourceful man, took the only chance he could when you looked away from him and at Daryl. He tackled you down and wrestled you for the gun, knowing Daryl wouldn’t have a clear shot to stop him. As Daryl’s attention fell on you and your struggle for the upper hand, Tony pushed himself up and lunged for Daryl. Chaos broke out. Punches and kicks were thrown and desperate curses echoed into the night.

Len wrestled the gun away from Daryl, but he couldn’t get a clear shot while he fought Tony and the one who had the knife. Daryl ended up finding the knife once the other two got the upper hand and kicked him into the ground. He aimlessly slashed the blade, luckily slicing Tony’s Achilles tendon. Blood spurted from the wound as he fell to the ground, crying out in pain, cursing Daryl with any insult he could muster up. Len and Knife-Guy took a step back from Daryl as he climbed back up to his feet. Daryl’s face was bloody and beat up, but somehow it made him more intimidating.

Len held the gun up nervously, gulping as Daryl paced side to side, just as predator waiting to pounce on his prey. “Cmon.” Knife-Guy urged Len impatiently. “Shoot his sorry ass.”

Len couldn’t, though, because he had no bullets left. He hadn’t come across the ammo he needed in weeks, but it had really been an issue up until that moment.

The thing was, Daryl knew the pistol wasn’t loaded when he held it. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as it should have been. So, without hesitation, Daryl stepped forward and slashed the blade once more, just barely missing Len’s arm as he and the other man dodged backward.

Meanwhile, Joe had finally wrestled your gun out of your hands and dragged you to your feet. He pressed the barrel against your cheek harshly and chuckled with triumph.

“Well, ya gave it a damn good shot. I respect that. Life is precious, and whatnot.” He said as he caught his breath. His face was tatted and scratched up from your attempts at self defense.

Daryl stopped his assault on Len and the other man when he noticed you had lost the battle against Joe. Knife-Guy moved to reach for his knife but Daryl was quick to lash out again.

“Uh-uh-uh.” Joe scolded. “See, when you have the upper hand, you get to make those kinds of decisions. Now, I have the upper hand again. You don’t get to make those decisions. See how that works?”

Daryl scoffed and wiped his arm across his bloodied nose.

“This is the part where you give Dan his knife back, so I don’t blow your lady’s brains all over the place.”

“Nah. You won’t. Her gun’s been jammed for weeks.” Daryl bluffed as he paced side to side, fist still clenched around the handle of the blade.

“Oh, now I find that hard to believe. See, you’re tellin’ me she’s been travelin’ with a man who knows his way around a bow, but you couldn’t un-jam a cheaply made Girsan MT14 .38? I’m not buyin’ that for one god-given minute. My minutes are precious. I don’t waste them on bluffs. You shouldn’t either. It makes things simpler.” Joe lectured.

“Okay.” Daryl nodded. “Dan can have his knife back.”

Stupidly, Dan stepped forward to grab his knife when Daryl held it out for him. In the blink of an eye, Daryl had Dan in his grasp, knife pressed to his throat. Joe took in a deep, expressive breath, and let it out slowly to convey his frustrations.

“I gotta be honest, you’re really pissing me off.” Joe warned.

“The feelin’s mutual.” Daryl retorted, earning a chuckle out of Joe.

“Ya know, I — I actually like you. You’re funny!” Joe admitted. “It’s a real shame we had to meet this way.”

“Wouldn’t’ve been no different any other way.” Daryl insisted. “Either way I kill you.”

“Well, that’s just bad sportsmanship. I expected more out of a bowman.” Joe shot back.

“Never claimed to be a good sport.” Daryl rasped.

“No. No, I guess you’re right.” Joe sighed. “So, then. What’s next? Are we gonna stand here all night with our metaphorical dicks in our hands, or are we gonna settle this like men?”

Daryl seemed to actually consider his question for a moment.

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. “Let’s settle it.”

With that, Daryl slit Dan’s throat with ease, blood pouring from the wound as the man gurgled and choked on it. Joe immediately pulled the gun from your cheek and aimed for Daryl, but the shot missed as Daryl pushed Dan into Len and knocked him down. Joe fired again, this time grazing Daryl, but by then Daryl had managed to dive down and tank Len back into him, serving as a new human shield.

“Dick move, asshole!” Joe bellowed, shoving the gun against our head again. You struggled against him, but you couldn’t break free.

“Just evening out the odds.” Daryl said as he dragged Len back to his feet and kept the knife pressed to his neck.

“Well I guess there’s only one way for this to end.” Joe said.

“Your brains soakin’ in the dirt?” Daryl taunted.

“Somebody’s brains for sure, but not mine.” Joe threatened.

With timing running out and desperation overwhelming him, Daryl finally relented.

“Alright.” Daryl said. “Let her go and I’ll let him go. Take it out on me.”

“Drop the knife first.” Joe demanded. Daryl complied, strategically tossing the knife too far away for Len to grab it before he let Len go. Len stumbled forward, having grown dizzy from the chokehold Daryl kept him in. Joe, keeping one hand on the collar if your shirt to hold you still, used the gun to motion Len to the side.

“Move, Len. It’s time to finish this.” He said.

“Nah. Wasn’t the deal.” Daryl argued.

Both men seemed breathless at this point, worn out from the lengthy struggle to maintain power over the other.

“Well, I like to say I’m a man of my word but… You killed two of my men tonight and for that someone must pay.” Joe informed him.

“Yeah, me.” Daryl insisted.

“Precisely, actually. First, you’re gonna watch her die. Then, I’m gonna kill you. Two for two.” Joe said, as a matter of fact.

“That ain’t gon’ work.” Daryl shook his head.

“Well the way I see it ya ain’t got much of a choice.” Joe chuckled in disbelief.

“There’s always a choice.” You finally chimed in, using Daryl’s distraction as your chance to fight. In a swift motion you turned and bit down on Joe’s neck, clenching your jaw as tightly as you could. Eventually your teeth met, slicing through the flesh. You pulled back, ripping a chunk out of Joe’s neck.

In his shock and agony, he squeeze the trigger, firing a round into Len’s shoulder just before Daryl rushed over to you and tackled Joe to the ground. As Joe gasped and reached for the gushing wound in his neck, Daryl gripped either side of his head and twisted. A loud crack sounded and Joe was lifeless.

Len, in one last effort to avenge his friends, charged after you and Daryl. Daryl grabbed a large stone and smashed it into Len’s skull. Len fell back, and Daryl straddled him, bringing the same heavy Rick down repeatedly until Len no longer resembled a human being.

Daryl slumped in top of the dead man, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he caught up with his breaths.

You sat in shock for a time, eyes glued to Daryl. Eventually, his head turned a little, and you could see his eyes peeking back at you through the mop of sweat drenched hair.

Slowly, he lifted himself up to his feet and stumbled away from the carnage, running a hand through his hair as he came to terms with what he’d had to do. What you both had to do. He looked down at his bloodied knuckles, images of beating a man to death repeating in his psyche.

Suddenly, his eyes broiled with rage as he looked back at you.

“This is what ya want? Huh? Is this the kinda man you wanna love?” He spat.

Shakily, you stood up and stared at him with eyes as round as saucers. The taste of blood still coated the inside of your mouth and dropped down your chin. Bits of flesh were noticeably lodged between your teeth. Your lip quivered as you held your hands out and looked down at your red-soaked clothes. Daryl then realized that he wasn’t the only one who had to be a monster. He wasn’t the only one who had to cope with such heinous actions.

If you could do the things he could do in order to survive, maybe those things weren’t as unforgivable as he’d thought. Maybe it could be forgiven, maybe he wasn’t a lost cause. His eyes softened a little as your eyes welled with tears, a shudder washing over you as you gagged.

You were disgusted with what you’d done. Horrified by the violence and gore. As if the events that led you to the Claimers in the first place weren’t bad enough, you were utterly traumatized.

He walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, hoping to ground you as his rage and terror simmered down.

“I — I” You struggled to speak, short quick breaths quickly evolving into a panic attack.

“You had to.” He assured you. You tried to nod, frantic and uncoordinated as the discomfort and sensory overload set in. You could taste blood and flesh, your clothes were sticky, everything smelled like death. Rapidly, you began slapping your hands against your body and attempted to wipe away all the gore. Firmly, yet still ever so gentle, Daryl’s hands wrapped around your wrists to hold you still. “Breathe.” He urged you. “It’s gon’ be alright. We can head back to that pond we passed earlier, get cleaned up.”

“I — I don’t — I don’t — I can’t —“ You began to sob, trembling as you tried to communicate through struggled breaths and hit tears.

“Breathe.” He cooed. “Slow down.”

“I can’t change.” You cried. “I don’t have clothes I can’t change.”

It might have seemed silly, but he understood. You were distressed and covered in the aftermath of something straight out of a horror film. You probably couldn’t think of anything other than getting the disturbing remnants of your attackers off of you.

“We’ll find ya some. Promise.” He assured you. “Let’s just go. I got your bag.”

It took the better half of an hour to calm you down to a point where you could travel. The pond was only a thirty minute hike back the way you came that day. There, you surrendered to the water, sinking into it fully clothed. You sat down and hugged your knees to your chest, distant and out of touch. Daryl couldn’t witness your unraveling for very long before he stepped in.

He kicked off his boots, peeled his dirty socks from his clammy skin, and rolled his jeans up before he waded in the water to meet you. Tenderly, he scooped water in his hands and trickled it over your head, dampening your hair enough to stub the grime away. His hands worked to wipe away the dried blood from your neck and shoulders. When you made no move to pick up where he left off, he went ahead and cleaned your face too.

You were completely catatonic. He pulled you to your feet and wordlessly guided you back to shore. He then removed his shirt and motioned for you to do the same. You finally let your eyes meet his, questioning him with your gaze.

“Your clothes are all wet. Take my shirt.” He insisted. With no energy to argue, you complied. You tossed your shirt to the side and replaced it with his. It hung down just past your butt. “Should cover ya up good. Wanna let your pants dry too? I’ll wash ‘em for ya.”

Grateful for the kindness, you stepped out of your jeans and handed them over.

“Go on an’ get the fire started.” He instructed softly. Thoughtlessly, you did so, while he scrubbed away at your clothes in the pond. When the fire was burning, you settled against a tree and hugged yourself, knees brought to your chest. When Daryl fit your clothes hung up to fry near the fire, he sat beside you and studied you.

Unable to ignore his presence, you looked over at him.

Two broken souls, horrified with the things they’d seen and done, just staring at each other.

Finally, Daryl scooted you forward from the tree trunk and slid in behind you, pulling you back into his bare chest and hugging you tightly. You easily melted into his embrace, allowing the awful pit in your gut to ease up a little.

“Gon’ and get some sleep.” He whispered into your hair. “I’ll watch over ya.”

That was the first night either of you truly let your guard down and allowed each other to care. From then on, there was no need to wonder. He kept you near him as much as he could, and you never strayed too far from him. Small grazes and lingering affectionate gazed slowly evolved into warm embraces and tender touches.

It wasn’t easy after that. Not by a long shot. You were both still learning to love. You were codependent and moody, Daryl was withdrawn and temperamental. The path to happiness for the two of you would be a rougher travel than most. You’d fight, swear you’ll never talk to each other again, and wind up right back by each others side. The cycle would continue for years to come, until you both grew older and calmer and found peace with each other. This would be around the time Daryl finally left his camp in the woods after Rick blew up the bridge. You’d go on to fight every battle with him.

You both would learn how to care for each other, all your little quirks and triggers. You’d be perfect for each other, because you’d both have to evolve in order to make the other happy. You’d finally be able to live and be loved the way you’d always imagined. Daryl would experience true partnership for the first time.

You’d often joke about it. Having to go through so much trauma just to open up to each other. You’d laugh about all the stubborn fights and petty squabbles. None of them would matter in the end, because you’d always have each other.

Might write an alternate version of this one. Unsure. Went in a whole different direction than I planned 😅

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix @superbowlisgay @liizzygrant @eddiemunsonsupremecy @raeraegoaway @ophelialaufey

[yanderecrazysie]

You Are Beneath Me (Sintember) Kaminari Denki

As always, all characters are 18+. This is inspired by this one Monoma fic that I can no longer find- here’s hoping it wasn’t deleted.

Prompt: You Are Beneath Me for @sintember

Pairings: Kaminari Denki x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes, NSFW, NON-CON, spitting, slut-shaming, Kaminari is NOT nice in this

“How does the boot taste?”

He was in his hero costume, but he was nothing like a hero. To you, he was a villain, through-and-through.

“Aww look at the poor baby- too weak to fight back, no wonder you dropped out of the hero course in your first year,” Kaminari snickered above you, his black shoe pinning the side of your face into the wooden flooring.

He was right- you couldn’t even begin to fight back. That, or you’d given up by now. You knew what was coming. It was the same every night that he broke into your apartment.

“Your nightgown is so cute,” Kaminari cooed, “I can’t wait to rip it off you.”

“Fuck you,” you seethed.

“Yeah, I’ll get to that in a minute.”

Kaminari leaned down and pulled a pocket knife out of his right pocket. You heard the tearing of fabric and shut your eyes tightly. Another article of clothing, ripped to shreds. Not the first time by a long shot.

“You’re soaking through your panties,” Kaminari snickered, “And you act like you don’t want me. What a slut.”

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter, wishing you could cover your ears and block out the insults.

Kaminari removed his foot from your face, ripping off the torn nightgown and leaning in to whisper in your ear, “You are beneath me, just a cumdump for me to use whenever I want.”

You spat into his face, but he just laughed at the spit rolling down his cheek, “So feisty- I love it.”

He wrestled you into position- head down, hips up- and used the useless nightgown to tie your wrists in place. He knew from experience that you’d claw his face off if you had the chance.

He hooked a finger into the waistband of your panties and pulled it down and off, pocketing it for later use. 

“You’re so lucky that I love you- with what a slut you are, guys should be lining up to fuck you. Instead, it’s just me.”

You rolled your eyes. There he went again, babbling on about how he “loved” you. What bullshit. If he really loved you, he wouldn’t hurt you and humiliate you.

But Kaminari did love you, in his own twisted way. His own obsessive, possessive way. And now that you were laid bare beneath him, he was ready to make sure you understood that fact.

His arousal only grew as you began to sling curses at him. He wasn’t sure if he was a sadist or masochist or both, just that he loved everything you gave him and everything he took from you.

His drooling, aching cock prodded at your entrance and you fell silent. This was going to happen to you no matter what you said. Just like it always did.

Kaminari pushed into you with little warning, groaning at how your velvety walls hugged his cock, “Fuck- you’re so tight-”

You were warm and wet, and that was all he needed to pound you into the floor. His cock was long enough to hit your cervix with every thrust. You laid there, refusing to open your mouth (you knew you’d moan if you did), but Kaminari wasn’t bothered by your lack of participation.

You felt your orgasm rapidly approaching as he began to hit that delicious spot. He flashed a toothy grin at you, feeling the way your walls pulsed around him, “Getting close, slut?”

You turned your head away, ashamed tears filling your eyes. You could no longer stop the moans from slipping from your mouth. Egged on, Kaminari thrust harder and harder, groans slipping from his own mouth.

Your orgasm crashed into you at full force, tearing a near-scream from you. Feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing cock, Kaminari pulled out immediately, leaving you keeling, and released his load over your lower back. Shot after shot of sticky cum painted your skin and, finally, the tears began to fall.

Kaminari gave your ass a slap and laughed, “What a crybaby cumdump.” He began to pull his pants up (he’d never even taken off his shirt), and walked over to your window, raising it up and getting ready to disappear into the night.

He turned back to you, almost apologetically, and said, “You know I love you, right?”

You let out a sob.

[hiskillingjar]

sick little games

Relationship(s): Strade/Reader, Ren/Reader, Lawrence/Reader, Strade/Ren, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Coercion, Extremely Dubious Consent, Leather, Sexual Roleplay, Sweat, Armpit Kink, Boot Worship, Blood and Injury, Chastity, Gore, Amputation, Praise, Humiliation, Daddy Kink, Teratophilia, Monster Fucking, Master/Slave, Latex, Costumes, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Threesome, Oral Sex, Shotgunning, Drug Use, Menophilia, Period Blood, Body Modification, Piercings, Exhibitionism, Watersports, Gags, Lingerie, Panties, Bondage, Emetophilia, Vomiting, Collars, Overstimulation, Vibrators, Breathplay, Asphyxiation Length: Multi-chaptered, 33,000+ words

Summary: [Last update: Breathplay] A collection of one-shots based around Kinktober prompts.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50629204

Leather and Latex (Strade/MC)

"Ah, look at you, little punk rocker."

You instantly stilled as Strade opened the door of your (his) room, your hands freezing at the zip of the leather skirt that was pulled tightly around your hips. In the months of being his captive, wearing and re-wearing your old clothes and borrowing some of his when you had to, you would have never been so bold as to ask Strade for clothes like this, but…you were pleasantly surprised when it had turned up with an order he'd done for you (no doubt with a bit of Ren's assistance, though).

That didn't stop you from being incredibly self-conscious when he walked in and saw you wearing something so daring though.

"Punk rocker?" You said, doing your best not to flinch at the sound of his voice, glancing towards him as he idled in the doorway of your (his) room, his arms crossed, your hands freezing at your sides and unwilling to move. "D-Do I look punk rock to you?" You then asked with an attempt at a smile, despite how nervous you now felt.

"Mm," Strade hummed as his smile grew, stepping forward and placing a hand on your hip, feeling the tight leather against his skin, the teeth of the silver zip. "Very punk rock. I like it." He dug his fingers a little harder against your soft hip, pulling you in a little closer. "What's the occasion? Trying to sneak into Berghain or something?"

You swallowed, a look of quiet confusion on your face (like he was telling a joke you didn't understand) as your hands stayed still.

"Do you always get this nervous around me?" Strade laughed and his golden eyes glittered with unique cruelty, sadistically amused, like a schoolboy pulling at a bug's wings, watching you with thinly veiled excitement as you grew more and more nervous at his presence. "Or are you just being modest, hm?"

"I'm not, mmf-!" You let out a little squeak as he gave the zip of the skirt a good yank, pulling it shut and pulling the leather even tighter around your arse. 

The skirt is maybe a size too small for you, squeezing in all of the right (or wrong, if you were being honest) places, and it's enough to make your legs tremble as he bracketed your hips with his hands, pressing you against the edge of the bed. 

"You know that your modesty is no good here, fraulein," He teased softly with a little chuckle, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, his teeth smiling into your skin. "Especially when your body looks this good trussed up in leather. Not like I'm surprised, of course," He then pressed you down into the bed, the hem of the skirt shifting upwards and exposing your soft, scarred thighs. "You'd look good trussed up anything~"

You took in a sharp little gasp as he nipped your neck playfully, reaching up to press your hands to his chest, an attempt to push him away when all you wanted to do was pull him forward, let him take you as he wanted.

There was a predatory gleam in Strade's eyes, as there often was with you, with his prey, as he observed how the tight-fitting material hugged your soft curves, the skirt clinging and creaking as it rosee even higher up your hips and thighs.

A slow and salacious smile spread across his lips as he placed a hand on one of your scars and let it drift upwards to the exposed hem of your panties.

"So tight..." He purred softly, dragging the bridge of his nose against your jaw. "That makes one thing of yours tight, huh?"

Your face flushed bright red at how crudely he spoke to you, and your obvious embarrassment made him grin and laugh heartily as he pushed you down to the bed and leered above you, his golden eyes growing ever more excited.

"You really need to stop being so reactive, fraulein." He said, still laughing as he placed a knee on one side of your hips, the mattress dipping beneath the two of you. "It makes you too much fun to play with and tease.

Roleplay (Ren/MC)

"I think when couples talk about roleplaying in the bedroom, they have other ideas in mind."

Your voice was flat and monotone as you crossed your arms and gave Ren a somewhat irritated look, looking down at the ridiculous cosplay outfit he had somehow managed to get you dressed up in. 

It was the typical sort of thing he liked, a short skirt with ruffle after ruffle of tulle bunched up underneath and grazing your thighs, thigh-high socks with lacy bands that bit into your soft flesh, long gloves, and plenty of bows to make you feel that much more ridiculous. You didn't understand what anime he was trying to reference with the outfit, if he was referencing one at all, nor would you care to understand if he tried to explain.

"I don't even know what role I'm supposed to be playing." You continued, idly pulling at the bow at the center of your chest and eyeing him as he beamed across the room, looking pleased as punch. "Am I a schoolgirl or something?"

"I mean, not exactly," He said with a grin, standing forward and pacing to your side, his tail idly swishing behind him. "You're, like, a part-time schoolgirl and a part-time magical girl, defending the world from aliens and overlords, and that kind of thing."

"Right," You replied, looking over at him with a raised brow. You had thought he'd be more creative than just having a schoolgirl fantasy. "And that's sexy to you?"

"It's very sexy to me," He replied with a little chuckle, his cheeks flushing a healthy pink as he continued to pace around you, circling you, a sweet-faced predator assessing their stoic prey. He was deceptive in that way, masking his darker and more violent desires with dweebish sweetness. It was as scary as it was intriguing. "But, ah, this character is even better, because she has a love interest that she's obsessed with, like, scary obsessed. It makes her that much more cuter to me."

"Mm, I can guess why," You mumbled, your own cheeks flushing a little as he continued to pace around you. "You like when someone is scary obsessed?"

"Can you blame me?" He said with a slightly sardonic smile, before stopping in front of you and taking a step closer. He was a lot shorter than you, but that never stopped you from getting a little nervous around him. "The rest of the stuff doesn't matter that much, but...you know. I want you to play that role."

You let out a little huff through your nose and peered down at him through half-lidded eyes. It would be up to him how he interprets that gaze.

"You want me to be the obsessive one for a change, huh?" You asked softly, not minding completely when he reached out and rubbed the tulle of your skirt with his thumb and forefinger.

"Maybe just for tonight," He murmured back, his own eyes softening with poorly concealed lust, his tail idly wagging behind him. Always so obvious with what he wanted, you could only hope that you weren't that obvious yourself. “Maybe I’d like to understand how it feels too. For someone to be obsessed with you,” His words were soft as his touch reached up your skirt and over the bodice of the costume. "Is that a bad thing for me to want?"

"No," You mumbled back, gently taking his wrists in each hand and pushing them down to his front. "That's not a bad thing for you to want. I just need to figure out how to do it, I guess..."

"Don't think about it too hard," He replied softly, leaning in close and dragging his lips over yours, plush and full. "Just do what feels right. Do what feels natural."

You let out a shaky little sigh, still holding on tightly to his wrists, his delicate little wrists, his pale skin, his dark veins that stood out so harshly, as he pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, another to your chin, another to your jaw. 

Always so obvious about what he wanted.

"I...I saw you talking to other girls at school today," You stammered slightly, your voice uncharacteristically soft and sweet sounding, enough that it made Ren pause and look at you, his eyes wide and excited, evidently pleased to be getting what he wanted. "I wasn't following you or anything...I just saw-"

"It was-" He cut you off, trying to hide just how excited he still was at this idea, that you were playing along with his fantasy. "I  had a few questions about the homework we have, that's all, I swear."

"You could have asked me," You replied quickly, an exaggerated pout to your lips, trying to get into the headspace of this kind of character...well, kind of person that Ren wanted you to be. You couldn't help but imagine how he would have reacted in a situation like this, and channel it into what you were saying yourself. "You know I'm always looking out for you, more than anyone. You know that I would do anything for you, right?"

"I know," He mumbled, his cheeks flushing a little darker as you held his wrists even tighter, digging your nails into his skin. "I didn't mean to upset you...I really didn't, I swear."

"But you did," You replied then, your gaze growing a little darker as you leaned in close to him, so close that you could feel his quick little breaths against your skin, the heat from his cheeks against your own. "And if you upset me again, I won't have any choice but to...to hurt any girl you talk to. You'll have forced me into it." 

You spoke so softly that you wondered if he had trouble hearing you, but when his ears twitched forward and his tail started to wag more rapidly, you knew that he had heard you loud and clear.

"You...y-you don't have to do that," He stammered, doing his best to play his own role of a helpless boyfriend, though he couldn't hide his excitement or obvious arousal (since the front of his jeans were already straining), no matter how much he tried to. "I really don't have eyes for anyone but you, don't you believe me?"

"Not at all," You said with a sweet smile, keening in even closer and forcing him to step backward, his butt hitting his desk. "I don't believe you at all, but that's okay...I'll just have to make sure that no girls ever talk to you again...since you only have eyes for me."

"Oh god," He took in a shaky breath, tilting his chin upwards a touch as you dragged your lips down his neck, kissing, nipping, leaving behind little bites. He reached upwards to press his hands to your chest, your own hands still around his wrists, and gripped the bows stitched to the bodice of your outfit, pulling you in even closer, the bulge in his jeans rubbing against your thigh. "Mm...please don't hurt anyone, please..."

"I won't have to if you stay with me, love," You purred then, a hidden smile on your face as you kissed his collarbone, dragging your teeth over his skin and listening to him whine and flinch. "I love you more than anything, Ren...and I'll gladly kill to keep the one I love with me, always..."

Sweat (Lawrence/MC)

Lawrence let out a soft, little sigh as you pressed your chest against their back, your hands reaching around and pressing up the front of their jacket (the branded fleece from the warehouse which matched their sweatpants), under their shirt. 

When you pressed your face into their shoulder, their long hair tickling your cheek as you did, they smelled of musk and soaked in sweat, heady and masculine, with the underlying scent of plant matter and fresh soil clinging onto them, as it always did. It was addictive and you pressed harder against them, their hips pressing into their kitchen counter as their body went rigid and tight.

"Mm," They moaned very softly, very quietly, their head going forward and their hands (big hands, bigger than yours) reaching up to feel where you're pushing up their shirt. "I-I should go shower...I've just come back from work." They shivered a little, a slight hitch to their voice as you ran your fingers over one of their nipples. "I'm all sweaty..."

"That's okay. I like it like that." Your tone was playful, teasing almost, yet your words betrayed an underlying lust and want for Lawrence's body as you leaned in closer again, now breathing into Lawrence's ear. "I like it when you're all sweaty and gross for me. It turns me on."

Lawrence moaned again as your lips trailed down behind their ear, down their neck, your lust and hunger growing too great to even try and suppress. When you ran your tongue down the side of their neck, down to the wide collar of their shirt and their exposed collarbone, you could taste the traces of salt and sweat, and it was enough to make you moan and want even more. 

"Let me worship you," You mumbled, your voice thick with lusting and want as you squeezed the soft flesh of their chest and dragged your hips against their arse. "Be mine, baby..."

"Ahh..." Lawrence groaned softly, low at the back of their throat, as you urged them to face you, your hands on their hips and pressing them back against the kitchen counter. Their sweet face was flushed and their eyes were hazy and lustful, despite how much they were shaking and trembling. "Yeah. I'm yours."

You smiled softly and leaned in to meet Lawrence's lips with your own, your free hand reaching up to cup their stubbly cheek and pulling them down to deepen the kiss, your tongue running over their chapped lips and pressing into their whimpering mouth. 

Your other hand occupied itself with peeling off their jacket, pushing it down their shoulders and their arms, before pushing their shirt up their long, trembling torso, exposing their skinny, pale form, slightly damp with a sheen of sweat.

"Let me taste you," You whispered, pulling back from the kiss (just barely, your lips still dragging over theirs) before you started to kiss along their collar, down their sternum, down towards their chest. "Let me taste your body."

"Ahhn," Lawrence groaned again, their hazy eyes squeezing shut as you dragged your tongue over their chest, barely tracing over a pert nipple before you gently pushed their shirt up even further, exposing their armpits, dusted lightly with blonde hair, and forcing their arms above their head. "Mph..."

"Be good," You mumbled softly, before pressing an experimental kiss to Lawrence's pale clavicle, keeping both hands on their hips, keeping them still. "Stay still and let me enjoy you."

When you were this close, the smell of sweat was even stronger, tangy and a little sour, potent after a long day of hard work, and it made your head spin a little, in the very best way. 

"D-Don't," Lawrence mumbled softly, their soft lips trembling, their eyes squeezing shut as their face flushed even darker in embarrassment. "Please don't..." 

You didn't say anything as you leaned down a little more and pressed a kiss to the deepest groove of their armpit, your nose nestling against the slightly damp hairs, breathing in the thick smell of their sweat. You couldn't resist a deep moan as you buried yourself more against their skin and dragged your tongue over them, tasting them, tasting the thick scent, the sour, salty taste of their sweat. 

"Fuuuck..." Lawrence drawled out with a desperate whimper, their body trembling, and when you peered towards their face, you could see that their face was that much more flushed and they were biting their lip. When you took one hand off their shaking hips and let it run over the bulge in their sweatpants, you felt how hard they were, in spite of their embarrassment (or maybe because of it). 

"God, you make me crazy," You mumbled softly, your voice thick with lust as you delved your tongue back against their armpit, moaning in pleasure as it worked its way against the sweaty and warm flesh hidden from the world, squeezing their hard cock and relishing in the hitched gasps they let out at the pressure and grip of your fist. "You smell so fucking good."

Lawrence bit their lip again, their hips keening forward as you slid a hand into their sweatpants, feeling the aching length of their cock practically tenting the fabric of their boxers. The quiet sounds of pleasure they let out were enough to spur you on to indulge even further, the taste and the smell of their armpit almost intoxicating as you sucked on the skin, the wide span of your tongue taking in every morsel of their sweat-slicked skin.

"I can only dream of how your cock smells right now, baby," You mumbled hotly, breathing heavily against Lawrence's tight bicep, your nose still nestled against their pit. "Want me to find out?"

"Mmhmm," Lawrence mumbled with a shy nod of their head, still squeezing their eyes shut and keening their hips forward, pressing their cock into the tight grip of your fist, biting their lip hard. "Please..."

You smiled and pressed one last kiss against the grove of their armpit, indulgently drinking in the flavor and the smell of their body. You were totally lost in that moment, lost in Lawrence and lost in his own intense pleasure. 

All you could hear was Lawrence's desperate moans and your own ragged breath.

"Good girl.”

Boot Worship (Strade/MC)

"Come on now, you know what the camera wants to see."

Strade's voice was a low purr as he stepped in front of you, taking the recording camera off of its tripod and moving the blinking red light, the uncaring and cold gaze of the lens, in front of your bruised and bloody face.

You swallowed a mixture of blood and mucus, pulling at your bound wrists in a weak attempt to cradle your very recently broken nose and cower away from him and his camera, though to no avail. The tight bondage bit into your skin and burned your wrists the more you pulled, adding more and more to the throbbing pain that was permeating through your body.

"How cute," He chuckled unkindly, reaching forward to grab your jaw and pull it closer to the camera, giving the unseen audience a good look at your mangled face. "Ah, though maybe not so cute now, hm? Now that little nose is all broken and bloody." He idly tapped a gloved finger against the broken bone, making you immediately whine in pain and jerk your chin upwards to get away from his grip. "Aw, don't worry, liebling. The chat still thinks you're as cute as a button."

He set the camera back on its tripod and adjusted the lens of the camera down to the concrete floor, which was now dotted with the dripping blood from your nose. He then stood back in front of you, his golden eyes dangerously amused and his brows quirking slightly, the only visible indication of his pleased expression when the mask was in the way. 

"You've made a mess," He said with a tilt of his head, idly gesturing to where you were still bleeding. "You better clean it up."

"Huh?" You stammered softly, looking up to meet his eyes with your own frightened expression. "C-Clean it up?"

"You heard me," He replied, his tone a little more terse and stern than it was. "Don't pretend to be dumber than you are, fraulein, it doesn't suit you."

Despite how much pain you were in, despite the streaming blood from your nose, the ropes biting into your wrists, and the bruises, cuts, and grazes that made your half-naked body ache and shiver, you couldn't stop a light flush coming to your cheeks when he referred to you with such intimate pet names. 

It wasn't fair that he could get you trembling with fear and trembling with want with one word if he tried to.

None of this was fair.

"Clean. It. Up." He finally said again, his voice low and authoritative, with another gesture towards the spots of blood under his feet. "You know how."

You swallowed down the mixture of blood and mucus again before you nodded hesitantly and lowered your head down to the floor the best you could, your muscles tensing and tight to hold your upper body up while your arms were still bound. 

Slowly, and without another word from him, you began to drag your tongue over the floor, the coppery taste of your own blood and grime from the cement mingling on your taste buds. You could feel yourself trembling from not only the pain and discomfort but also the humiliation of having to clean up the mess that you had made. 

You could only guess how the chat was responding to such an embarrassing act of submission.

"Oh, would you look at that?" He said casually, before teasingly pressing the tip of his shoe against your cheek and jerking your attention back up and towards him and the camera. "You've got your mess all over my boot too. Guess you'll have to clean that as well, while you're down there."

You squeaked quietly when he nudged you again but quickly did as you were told, running your tongue along the dirty rubber sole of his boot as he held it in front of your face. You knew that you must have been tasting wherever he had been that day, dirt and gravel and god knows what else, but you didn't care.

All you cared about was cleaning up your mess and looking good for the camera while you did it. All you cared about was pleasing him.

"There we go," Strade drawled, his eyes softening above his mask as he watched you indulgently. "Such a good little dog under my feet. Make sure you clean the rest too, don't forget."

You didn't forget, and he didn't need to remind you as you obediently raised your chin a little to run your tongue over the tip of his boot, tasting the musky old leather and suppressing a moan as you licked up and down, cleaning and recleaning the dripping blood from your nose, all the while panting and whimpering against the boot as you did so. 

Your spit was thick with blood as it drooled across his boot, making the old leather shine like it was brand new and polished to a luxurious sheen.

"Getting excited, hm?" He then asked, his voice sounding a little ragged as he reached forward to pull at the back of your panties, forcing a little shriek from your lips, muffled by leather, as the gusset was pulled tight against your wet cunt. "It would be nice to have a camera behind you, so I could see that wet spot growing in your panties, fraulein. So I could see how much you wanted me, even while I do things like this to you."

You whimpered again against the leather, but made no movement to stop your worship at his feet as he kept pulling at your panties, listening to each one of your muffled shrieks and watching your bent body tremble and spasm with pleasure. 

"You'll have to make sure that you've cleaned all the blood off, or we'll just have to keep this going on and on," He continued, though, from the way he said it, he didn't see much of a problem in the idea. "So, let's be sure that they're spotless, ja?"

Chastity (Ren/MC)

You couldn't hold back a little squeak as Ren locked the heavy-duty chastity belt around your hips and between your legs, the soft click of the first padlock being threaded through the metal loop that rested atop your belly being enough to make you tremble even more than you already were.

You had behaved badly, or at least, he thought you had behaved badly enough to be kept like this for a while.

The length of time was up to him, naturally, and he hadn't made a decision about it yet. 

He was happy enough just locking up the padlocks and watching you tremble and shiver, it seemed, as he stayed on his knees in front of you, focusing intently on his task.

"How long are you going to keep this on?" You asked softly with a little pout, looking down at the young man, his tail wagging gleefully behind him, as he locked the second padlock between your legs (but not before pressing the cold metal toy attached to it up inside you first, keeping you full).

"Oh, you know. However long I feel like, really." Ren replied with an innocent smile, taking both of the keys to the locks and theading them on a ball chain he fished from his shirt pocket. "It could be days. Or weeks, or months. Who knows!" He let out a laugh then, raising his brows beneath his bangs and standing up to his feet as his ears tilted forward with excited anticipation. "Maybe I'll keep it on forever."

Your eyes went wide and scared at his playful threat, which only encouraged him to step closer towards you, his innocent smile fading into a sharp grin on his face and his tail wagging even more rapidly.

"Wouldn't that be something?" He continued, bracketing his hands on the metal bands at your hips as his tail wound around your bare legs, soft and teasing. “Keeping you full and desperate for release, forever and ever, without any hope of rescue?” He let out a giddy little breath. “Just saying it is getting me hot.” 

"W-Well, why would you do something like that?" You stammered softly, biting your lip as he continued to idly fiddle with the padlock of the belt, his eyes drifting down to the thick metal waistband digging into your soft flesh, marking your skin. You could already feel that it was going to leave a stark imprint behind. "If I'm all...belted up, forever, you wouldn't get to-"

"I wouldn't get to fuck you?" He finished for you with another little chuckle, keening up (on his tiptoes) to press a kiss, a teasing bite to your jaw, digging his fingers around the metal band and pulling your hips close to his. You could already feel how hard he was getting through his jeans. He wasn’t kidding around then. "No, that's true. I wouldn't get to do that...but honestly, I think it'll be worth it to keep you so wound up and desperate all the time." He chuckled again, and ran his nose against your neck, scenting you. " I think it'll be worth it, anyway. And that’s kind of all that matters, hm?"

"But...mph," You let out a soft groan from the back of your throat as he continued to rut his hips against yours, looking for whatever stimulation he could against the hard metal despite how much he was insisting otherwise. "Why?"

"Because I want to," He said, his voice a touch softer, watching with half-lidded eyes as your own flitted to the side, trying to avoid his hungry gaze as he continued to toy with the padlock. "Because I can. Even knowing that you're unable to play with yourself right now and feeling your frustration is enough for me."

Your cheeks flushed a little (a lot) darker as he brought his face close to yours with a salacious smile, licking his fangs indulgently like a fox would as he took in your embarrassed expression.

"And...what if I beg for you to take it off?" You asked, peering back towards him, your face growing more flush as you noticed him string the ball chain around his neck, the keys to your padlocks shining against his chest. 

"Well, it'll be up to me to decide if you deserve it," He replied, the sharpness in his grin settling into a cruel smirk as he keened up again to kiss your neck one last time. "And I'm pretty tough to convince...especially when I want something as badly as this."

Gore (Strade/MC)

When your eyes finally opened, the first thing that hit you was the smell.

The air in the basement was thick with the putrid smell of blood and gore, grime and rust. Enough to make you retch, though all you managed to puke up was a foul splatter of burning stomach bile as your body hunched over the best it could. 

That, of course, only added to the disgusting smells that surrounded you already.

It added to the twisting pain in your body, added to the burning at the back of your throat.

It felt like hell.

Like you had traveled so deep into the inferno, delved into the darkest corners of your own psyche, that you were past the point of any kind of return, too far gone to even try and save.

Your head lolled back against the support beam you were tied to, vomit streaked down your chin and your eyes were hazy and dazed.

"Hmph. You're not gonna last like that," Strade said as he turned off the recording camera, tugging down the scarf that concealed his face when he was streaming before standing above you, his hands on his hips. "You might even need to see a doctor. That looks pretty gruesome, buddy!"

The pain was the second thing that hit you.

Immeasurable pain, pain that you couldn't even hope to fathom before all of this happened, before that first night in this fucking basement and the countless nights that came after it. 

It was like a deep ache, harsh and burning, that shook you to your very core, making you yank at your bondage in an attempt to cover your bile-stained lips, just so you wouldn't hear the wreaked sob you let out when you could finally feel it.

But you couldn't, so you were left to sob openly, hiccuping little breaths and desperate gasps that didn't convey even a fraction of how badly you were hurting, how badly every nerve and synapse in your body was burning and screaming.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, snot and drool were dripping onto your shaking chest, half-naked and bloody in its own right, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head as your body spasmed and twitched, desperately trying to will the pain to go away, even just a little.

The jug of hydrofluoric acid loomed dangerously in your vision, placed on the wooden bench like it was there to taunt and tease you.

You spasmed again with a miserable whimper when you felt another drip of the liquid pool down your knee and eat into your already melting skin.

"The camera might have liked it, but I really can't have you staying like this," He continued with a light click of his tongue, wiping his hands off on his trousers and taking another step closer to you, crouching down to one knee to inspect the damage and running the tip of his finger along one of the worst acid burns, watching you flinch and squirm. "You'll go into shock, and, well," He let out a little chuckle. "We can't have that, can we?"

He tilted his head with a mock sympathetic look, though he looked completely unbothered by your pain. 

"Hurt, doesn't it?" He asked, his voice low and lilting as he tilted his head towards you, one of his dark brows raised in an idle question. "I know, I know." He laughed and waved one of his hands, showing off a few acid burns on his fingers, indicating a messy past, maybe a few mistakes he'd made with victims like you. "Trust me, I know."

Though, there weren't victims like you. Not really. Not that he had kept for such a long time.

"Mind if I take a look?" He then asked with a little shrug of his shoulders, though he didn't wait for a reply before he wrapped a hand around your ankle and wrenched your mangled leg out straight, hard and fast. 

You let out a pained shriek as he did so, pressing your other knee up to your vomit-slicked chest as he inspected it critically, his golden eyes scanning over each bloody, burned patch of flesh and melted skin. 

"W-What are you going t-to do?" You stammered, your voice meek and pathetic, each word wavering and your body spasming.

"Relax, fraulein," He replied, his voice surprisingly calm and authoritative, so relaxed himself that it was a tad bit disconcerting. "I'm just gonna have a look, that's all."

Your jaw trembled at the still thrumming pain as he continued to stare down, your eyes flitting shut as you let out a soft moan of subdued agony. You could feel your head getting heavy and fuzzed, and you wondered if you might lose consciousness soon from the pain of the acid burn.

Without even looking at him, you know the sight of your pain is amusing Strade. 

"You're in quite a bit of pain, eh?" He asked, a dark smile evident in his voice while he took a longer moment to observe the extent of your leg's injuries. 

Despite your attempts to fight it, your body is unable to suppress the pain and you moan loudly again.

"I know what to do...don't you fret."

Before you could even notice his hand moving from your ankle, or hear the sound of him crossing the basement floor, you felt the ragged teeth of a bone saw almost immediately cut through the burned skin and into the meat of your lower thigh.

Your eyes shot wide and bloodshot with terror and you screamed, oh, how you screamed, louder than you ever had before, like a dying animal, and tried desperately hard to lurch back, away from him. But your binds around the basement's support beam, and the grip he had on your ankle, pulled out straight once again, was stronger than a vice. 

He barely seemed bothered at all as you thrashed and bucked beneath him. 

He was just humming to himself, like this was an everyday activity for him (and maybe it was). That sadistic smirk on his face remained, despite everything.

Rivulets of blood ran from the jagged gash and down your melted skin and coagulated flesh, leaving a steadily growing puddle on the cement floor.

So much blood.

So much fucking blood.

You couldn't stop screaming, and yet he barely reacted, sparing only a glance towards your face, seemingly reveling in your torture. The sound of your screams and the sight of your visible injuries excited him more than anything, after all, a fact you had come to learn in the time you'd come to know him.

His total disinterest in your pain, your agony, made you sob even harder, tears stinging the various cuts and scrapes on your cheeks, smearing blood, snot, and bile further down your face, your chin, your spasming chest. You could hear yourself begging, pleading, stop, stop, please, I'll do whatever you want, just PLEASE-! but the voice barely sounded human, let alone sounded like your own.

It felt like dying.

In a way, you would have preferred if you had died.

You wouldn't have to live like this, live through whatever was in store for you, live with the knowledge that you had practically handed yourself to him on a silver platter.

You didn't even want to imagine.

Through your sobs, you managed to vomit down your front again from the sheer pain and disgust that was rushing through you, and it hurt even more than last time. It made you cry just a little bit harder as you jerked your head up to the basement ceiling, wide, frightened eyes fixing on the swinging lightbulb above your head, desperate not to look.

Praying to a God who had long abandoned you.

The saw ripped through your bone with a sickening crunch which sent an electric shock of white-hot agony through your spine and up to the base of your skull.

Screaming would surely do nothing to deter him, but you can't help but keep trying.

You couldn't pull away though. 

He was too strong and your body already felt like it was going to give out just from moving for even a second. Any hope that you might have had drained out of you almost as quickly as your blood drained, and you felt your head get heavier and heavier, on the precipice of consciousnesses as he persisted with his gruesome task.

Maybe fainting would have been better. You wouldn't have to see any of this, listen to his idle humming, listen to the sound of the blade through your leg.

But you'd have to wake up. And what to?

You wanted so desperately to die.

He only had to give the dangling limb a good pull before the last shred of skin snapped and your leg fell to the scum-spotted cement floor with a deafening thud.

You couldn't scream, though you desperately wanted to.

You could only lay your head back against the support beam and silently weep, your mind practically dead behind your eyes and your lips parted with spasming little whimpers, as he sat the bone saw down and yanked the belt from the waistband of his trousers to wrap around your now bleeding stump of a leg, a poor man's tourniquet to stop the bleeding for a little while. 

His nostrils flared a little and he scrunched his nose at the smell. You had pissed yourself in the midst of this, which only added to the foray of foul smells in the basement. 

“Scheiße,” He muttered softly to himself as he pulled the belt a notch or two tighter, before murmuring something else in German that you didn’t understand.

Your stomach twisted tight again. 

"Ren!" He shouted over his shoulder as he stood to his feet, his hands on his hips again. "I'm gonna need your help down here, bud, come quick."

Praise (Lawrence/MC)

"Would you...is it okay if I touch you?" Lawrence asked tentatively, looking up to meet your eyes with their own, pale grey and doe-like in their pseudo-innocence. They were very careful to not move toward you at all when they asked the question, giving you the space that you needed to reciprocate.

Granted, you were tied to a chair and they were standing tall over you, but at least they had the decency to look uncomfortable about the situation.

"T-Touch me?" You repeated with a little stammer, your pallid, sweaty face giving away your hesitance.

You swallowed hard as the two of you stared at each other for a moment, but you didn't pull back as they took a cautious step closer to you, entered your space, and idly stroked through the long, sweaty hair trailing down your shoulders, their body close to yours, their smell sickly sweet and musky, like plant matter, like rot.

Watching intently, noticing that you weren't moving back or trying to pull away, Lawrence continued to gently brush the hair back from your face, a small smile coming across their pretty features as they admired you, their head tilting to the side, just a touch. You noticed that they were still being very careful not to move too near to you, though now that you thought about it...

You couldn't help but notice just how close together you were sitting together, their knee gently rubbing against yours as their touch drifted upwards, their bony knuckle grazing your flushed cheek.

"Is this okay?" Lawrence asked, still keeping their voice as steady and gentle as they could, despite how much they were shaking, like they were scared of scaring you, scared of breaking you.

"Yeah," You murmured softly as their fingers grazed your neck and pressed into your hair, cupping against your scalp, making you gulp and your wrists flex and tremble where they were bound to the chair. "It's okay."

They let out a soft hum of pleasure as you raised your chin, just a little, letting them continue the gentle petting through your hair. 

"Your hair is so soft," Lawrence mumbled softly, their doe eyes softening just a touch as they watched the way you keened into their touch, your fingers relaxing at the arms of the chair, despite how tight the tape was still binding you. "And...so pretty. Just like you are."

You blinked curiously up at them as they placed their other hand on your knee, leaning into your space even more, their cold, stubble-dotted cheek inches from yours. Yet, they were leaning into you in such a way that suggested that they were rubbing against you, scenting you like an animal.

"You're beautiful," They murmured even quieter, their fingers drifting higher up your knee, running over the ladders in your tights and to the warmth of your inner thigh. "And...so good for me. So good, letting me touch you, not being scared of me, not making any noise..."

You couldn't hold back a tiny whimper as their knuckle grazed the hem of your skirt, still stroking your hair. 

You weren't sure what Lawrence's intentions were just yet, but even though you had a sense that they weren't dangerous intentions, you still had a feeling that they might have been a little...unstable.

You thought it best to play along, while you still had the option to.

"Thank you for being so good," They continued, their voice still hushed as they pressed a little closer, running the bridge of their nose over your jaw, chapped lips running along your neck. "You've made this so, so much easier for me..."

You nodded a little hesitantly, biting your lip and keeping quiet while your eyes flitted down to their hand drifting further and further up your thigh, the duct tape wrapped tightly around your wrists.

You were still their prisoner, however well you were behaving.

Humiliation (Strade/MC)

“Come on now, moan for me. Moan for Daddy~”

With just one word, you were yanked forcefully out of your haze of masochistic submission, your eyes wide and your expression as close to disgust as you could manage.

"Did you just-" You muttered, your brows furrowing as you stared up at him. "Oh my god, you cannot be serious," You said with a grimace, cringing more from his words than what he was actually doing to your body. 

"Ahh, I can't resist," He said with a bright laugh, a shrug of his shoulders as he raised the knife from your thigh for just a moment, a faint cut left behind on your skin, barely even bleeding yet. Almost nothing compared to what you were usually used to. "You just look so uncomfortable when I say it. It's adorable, really!" He grinned again. "You really shouldn't be so reactive, fräulein , it makes you soooo easy to tease and wind up."

You said nothing, but continued to frown as he teased you.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” He then said, pulling the knife entirely from your leg and idly tapping it against his stubbly chin. “How about…you call me ‘daddy’, like I asked you to…and I’ll let you out of the basement for the night? How does that sound to you?”

"That's...that's not fair," You mumbled softly, pulling tightly at your ropes and ducking your head down in mortified embarrassment, your face blazing bright red at the prospect of even saying the word, let alone- “You know I don’t like saying…saying that.”

"Come ooon, you have to play along!" He purred with a lecherous grin, running his tongue over his teeth as he leaned in close again, his crouching knee between your legs, dragging the blade of the knife over your scarred thigh, threatening, not cutting, not yet. "You know you want to. And I know I want to hear it."

"I'm not doing that!" You then said, loud enough that it made him flinch backward with surprise, your face bright red and angry despite how hazy your head was feeling from the humiliation at...such a demeaning demand from him. "That...has to be the worst thing you've asked me to do!"

"Oh, is it the worst? Are you sure?" He asked with a huffed-out little chuckle, still dragging the blade of the knife along your thigh, still threatening to cut. "I had no idea you were such a, ah," He paused for a moment, his eyes flitting upwards before a grin came to his face. "A prude! You certainly don't act one."

He let out another light chuckle from his nose as he angled the blade downwards and cut a shallow slice into your thigh, enough to bleed, enough to sting and scar. His golden eyes watched intently as you took in a hiss through your gritted teeth, your bare toes curling against the cold cement floor and trying to pull back to your chest.

"No, I know that you're no prude," He continued, pressing closer, his forehead against yours as he dragged another cut into your skin, relishing in the way your body spasmed at the slight pain. "I know from the way you squeal, the way you bite your lip when I hurt you, like you're not gagging for it." 

He laughed again, as his free hand reached up to cup your cheek, force your eyes together. You blushed even more, your lip trembling with a quiet whimper of shame as he leaned in closer to you, the knife at your thigh digging in even more, edging dangerously close to the hem of your panties.

"The way you want to scream and cry for more, but can't quite manage because of a ball gag or my cock in your mouth. It's all so adorable, liebling ." His voice dipped just a touch, deeper, authoritative, and tinged with lust. "But I think it's time we stop playing pretend, ja ?"

He slid the blade under the lace panel side of your panties, cutting through it easily (making you squeak even more when the blade nicked your skin) and revealing your cunt to the cool air of the basement.

"I know this is turning you on, as much as you hate to admit it." He leaned in even closer, until his warm breath was almost kissing your skin as he whispered in your ear, the tip of the blade folding aside the scraps of fabric and getting closer and closer to your core. "It's pretty cute to see you get so worked up about a word, liebling , but you know what I want to hear. So, spit it out."

The touch of the blade shifted again, its presence ever-threatening as you trembled helplessly beneath it, watching as it pressed against the ripening bud of your clit, sharp and dangerous.

"Don't make me ask you twice," He then said, after a long moment of heavy silence from you, pressing the tip of the blade down with a little more weight. "You know I'll do it."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you let out a drawn-out and exaggerated moan, almost pornographic, tipping your head back and pressing your thighs together (though you weren't stupid enough to buck up against the knife, like you tended to).

"Ahhhnn..." You continued to moan, biting your lip for just a moment before you peered back up at him. "D-Daddy..."

"Hm?~" Strade hummed with a playful smirk, placing his blood-stained fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards him and force your eyes together again. "What was that?"

"Daddy..." You said again.

A satisfied smile came to his face as he pressed in even more against you, his nose against your temple, as your legs parted again and he moved the blade down from your clit and over the dripping parting of your cunt. 

"Good girl," He murmured against your cheek, his smile splitting into a sharp grin. "Suuuch a good girl, liebling . There now, was that so hard?"

You felt your entire body tremble and your insides plunge at the sensation of shame, though you could tell that Strade didn't mind that so much as he reached back and cut through your bondage.

"I could get used to hearing that, I think. How about we head upstairs?"

Teratophilia (Strade/Ren)

The machete slid through the amputated limb with ease, flesh, muscle, and bone unable to withstand the sharpened blade. Dark, aged blood spilled out on either side of the greying flesh of the arm, covering the bench on which he worked with a viscous spray. 

Ren instantly jumped back from the bench, looking down at his (now blood-covered) sweatpants with a wounded look. 

"Jeez, that better not stain," He grumbled softly with a frown, reaching down to rub at the new splash of blood adorning the fabric, knowing that he shouldn't. "I just got these..."

He continued to pout about his stained sweatpants, letting out a deep huff from his nose as he hacked the limb into several neat pieces, tossing each one into a metal bucket at his side with a bloody splat, like it was second nature to him. 

Ren's ears twitched at the sound of a growl behind him, the shift of chains against the cement floor, responding to each bloody splat of flesh.

"I know, I know, it's not the best we can get," Ren said softly, the pout fading just a touch as he smiled to himself, hacking through the wrist of the limb with a heavy *thwack* of the machete. "I'll get something fresher for you soon, but we need to make do with what we have for now."

He glanced over his shoulder with another bright smile, his tail wagging.

"Come on, don't be grumpy with me," He said with another playful pout, leaning down to take the bucket in hand and pacing across the basement, his bare feet cool and claws clicking against the floor. "You always love feeding time! It might not be gourmet or anything, but it's still food, right?"

He reached in to take a slice of the cut meat and squatted down, holding it out like a peace offering.

"You know you want it. Come on~" He cooed softly, with a little tilt of his head, a teasing smile, his fangs pressed into his bottom lip. "Take it."

His ears twitched again at the sound of another low growl as the chain dragged across the floor a little louder, his smile growing wider and wider as a hulking monster inched itself out of the darkness and towards Ren.

Strade sniffed cautiously as he brought his grey body closer, as sluggish and as slow as an animal. When he caught a good whiff of the meat, he licked his yellow teeth with a pleased-sounding grunt and brought his drooling mouth, his spit thick and viscous due in part to his still rotting skull, down to eat from Ren's hand.

"There we go," Ren praised with a smile, reaching up with his other hand to pet through Strade's matted hair, barely even grimacing when he caught a snag between his claws and had to pull at it. "I knew you couldn't be grumpy for long. It tastes good, huh?"

Strade let out a soft murr as he took another hungry bite of the meat, either not noticing Ren's petting or not caring about it as he shifted closer, the heavy chain hanging from his shock collar and bolted to the wall of the basement, still dragging against the cement. 

"You know, I dreamed about this before. Me doing this to you." Ren mused softly to himself. "I started to pray for it." He smiled serenely as Strade finished the last bite of meat and tongued Ren's palm messily, lapping up blood and viscera from his fingers. He was instantly reminded of feeding time at a petting zoo when he was a kid. "I fantasised about it for years, having you like this. It's kind of silly that I managed it so easily." He let out a little yip of a laugh, his tail wagging behind him as he reached for another chunk of meat to feed the lumbering beast. 

"Now you're all mine, forever and ever. My own pet monster~"

Strade raised his head from Ren's palm with another cautious sniff, temporarily distracted as the younger man reached for another chunk of the bloody flesh, before his dead eyes darted down again to the blood covering Ren's sweatpants, recognizing it as the thing he had tasted before with just a whiff.

Ren couldn't even try to stop him before he was thrown to the floor of the basement, Strade's hulking body straining against the taut chain still bolted to the wall as he caged Ren down with his heavier body, his eyes suddenly alive and stomach-churningly familiar.

Ren let out a shrill scream as Strade brought his head down to tongue at the soaking blood on his sweatpants, his hands gripping the young man's calves with a crushing amount of pressure, pinning him down to the ground (as he had so many other time before) and stopping him from struggling. Although he had no voice to gloat about how easy Ren was to overpower, Ren still felt the same surge of shame and humiliation twist in his gut and make him sick.

He frantically reached for his jacket pocket where he kept the remote to Strade's collar and pressed his thumb down on the button, emitting a sharp electric shock that burned into his skin, though that did very little to stop the lumbering monster as he forcefully yanked the sweatpants down to expose Ren's living flesh.

"No, no, no, no, nononononono," Ren shrieked, his eyes wide and frightened as he kept pressing the button of the collar, taking in desperate breathes through his teeth as his sweatpants were thrown aside and Strade started to tongue and nip his scarred thighs, hoping to pierce the skin with his flat teeth and taste the gush of fresh, hot blood. "Stop it, stop it now!"

If Strade couldn't be reasoned with when he was alive, trying to reason with him when he was dead would have been impossible.

Though he made a face of discomfort at the consistently shocking collar, that didn't stop Strade as he sat up on his knees with another rough grunt, taking one of Ren's kicking legs in hand, and forcing his body to bend in two, exposing his ass and pressing his soft cock up against his belly. 

Ren whimpered again, biting his lip hard and trying not to cry out as the monster stared down at him, tilting his head as his free hand reached down and palmed the plush flesh of his ass roughly, trying to feel the difference between living and dead flesh, and see which he preferred. 

Which one he liked the taste of more.

The shock collar was doing absolutely nothing to stop Strade, but he kept pressing the button, just to do something, to make sure that he wasn't taking this helplessly and passively as he used to, when Strade was still alive.

"Nghhh..." Ren gritted his teeth as he then felt the monster's thumb linger over the blooming, pink bud of his asshole, seemingly gauging his flustered reaction with a curious look. 

Even in death, Strade's curious nature persisted, it seemed.

To his surprise, though, Strade didn't sink his teeth into his flesh, nor did he tear him open, from groin to sternum, in a knash of bone and a rip of torn flesh. 

Instead, he felt the slimy wetness of the monster's tongue streak over his pale perineum, luxuriously and indulgently slow, before it focused intently on the hot, tight ring of muscle that twitched and convulsed so deliciously before his dead eyes, underneath his drooling, slack tongue, practically begging to be penetrated and devoured. 

Ren had never felt this sensation before, in all of his years of being with Strade, and it made his entire body go tight and his kicking legs relent as he focused in on the wet drag of Strade's tongue over his asshole. 

"AH!" Ren moaned loudly, tipping his head back, his little body arching underneath Strade's as his legs trembled and tightened around the bigger body, a surge of pleasure shooting through him, making his very core throb and burn with desperate wanting. "Hah...nghhh..."

Strade growled lowly with pleasure against Ren's hole, before his rasping tongue pressed deeper and deeper into his core and he started to thoroughly devour the younger man with fast and furious pleasure, relishing in his taste, relishing in the thrashing, living body underneath him.

It was so much better than dead meat. At least, that was what Ren assumed.

"Ahhhnn..." Ren let out a pornographic moan as he squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his free leg around Strade's broad shoulders, pulling him into his body and feeling the contradictory warmth of his mouth and the cold of his body. His tone had become restlessly needy, and the volume behind each of his moans and whimpers had picked up steadily as he got more and more wound up, his cock twitching excitedly and leaking against his belly from the maddeningly slow stimulation. "S-Strade...nghh, please..."

He pressed his thumb down on the button of the remote again, feeling the rumbling from the collar against his ankle as Strade continued on through the shock, letting out another deep growl at the sensations that were gradually growing more pleasurable than not. 

As Strade kept going, his teeth grazed against the rim of Ren's sensitive ass in a way that should have been painful, might have been painful at some point, but it just made the younger man desperately excited for even more stimulation from his monstrous lover.

"So good~" Ren drawled with a giddy smile, biting his lip hard as his vision started to blur and haze, his head lost in his own delirious pleasure. "God, I should have been doing this from the start..."

Strade let out his own grunt of agreement as a viscous string of drool ran down Ren's perineum and sloped up his arched back, cold in the cool air of the basement and enough to make him shiver all the more. He took in another sharp gasp, his eyes shooting open again as the monster somehow pushed his tongue even deeper, tasting the young man like a meal about to be devoured, an autopsy specimen about to be examined. 

Each comparison, each erotic and gory depersonalization that rendered his body as nothing more than an object for the monster's desire and hunger, made Ren's cock throb painfully, exquisitely, thrumming with pleasure as his slit oozed streams of precum against his trembling belly

He was unable to stop himself from shaking, trembling, and spasming even more as electric jolts of tortuous bliss shot through his body and melted his brain into a mush of pleasure and desperate wanting.

"God, I'm gonna cuuuum," He whined desperately, his voice high-pitched and drawling, squeezing his eyes shut and letting himself fall. "Please, please, please, please, please-!"

Perhaps knowing that Ren was seconds from orgasm, Strade managed to shove his tongue inside what little space was available, gripping the young man's ankle tightly, almost painfully, and wrenching his little body upwards even more, forcing him practically vertical and pressed tightly against his devouring mouth.

Ren let out another shriek as he was pulled upwards, though that didn't stop him from spilling over, a splatter of cum coating his belly, his chest, and reaching as far as his chin. 

After a few short moments of hungry slurping from Strade, keeping the young body totally boneless and pliable in his grip, he eventually relented and let Ren's body drop back down to the ground, lowering his head as he did so to lap up the mess of cum from the young man's belly hungrily.

Ren let out an unsteady sigh, barely cognisant as he reached down to pet Strade's hair again, simply enjoying the soft warmth of his tongue on his body and relishing in the attention and aftercare that he would have never received from the man in life. 

A slight smile came to his trembling lips as he let his eyes flit shut.

Master and Slave (Fox/MC)

"NGH!"

You let out a shriek as you fell to the marble floor and dropped the tray you were holding with a loud clatter, spilling the contents of the water jug atop it and shattering the glasses that had been stacked alongside it. 

You couldn't hold back a small whimper as you climbed up onto your aching knees, looking down at the mess you had made with a whispered curse as you tried to get your bearings and clean yourself up before anyone had the chance to notice what you had done.

You were rarely given those kinds of chances though. 

"Oh dear," Your body went rigid when you heard Fox's voice behind you, an obvious degree of humour to his tone as you heard the soft *tap-tap* of his shoes against the marble floor. "Someone's a bit clumsy today, aren't they?" He teased with a cruel chuckle. "I do hope I haven't overworked you too much, darling, you did have an awful lot of tasks to do this morning, after all."

"N-No, Master," You stammered quietly, keeping your eyes locked down as you sat up on your knees and reached for the (now) empty jug, placing it back on the tray before picking up some of the bigger chunks of glass. "I'm sorry, I'll clean it all up right away."

"Mm, I should think so," He hummed, stepping closer to you and standing behind your bent body with a soft click of his tongue. "But that's no way to clean up glass, slave. You'll cut yourself if you're not careful."

"Right," You replied quickly with a little nod of your head (your cheeks totally flushed at the demeaning title), placing down the chunks of glass and moving to stand to your feet. "I'll go get...um, I'll go get a broom to sweep it up."

"No, no."

You suddenly felt the sole of his shoe press firmly against the small of your back, keeping your body pinned down and still against the ground. You immediately froze like a rabbit in the headlights as he did so, keeping still on your hands and knees, as he pressed a touch more weight into your body, enough to make your limbs shake.

"I didn't say stop." He continued, his amused tone turning authoritative and stern, albeit as light-hearted as he always was when he was in this kind of mood. "You've made your bed, so lie in it, slave. Clean up your mess."

You gulped nervously as you did your best to look back at him over your shoulder, gauging his seriousness. 

Seeing his narrowed, golden eyes was more than enough to tell you that he wasn't joking.

You quickly looked back at the mess you had made and took in an unsteady breath, before slowly sweeping the shards of broken glass up with your hands, angling them in such a way as to avoid being cut up.

Eventually, after a few passes with your palms and the pile on the tray growing bigger and bigger, Fox took his foot off your back and continued to watch as you worked. 

"There we go. Clean it up, like the good, little slave I know you are."

And though you didn't bother to look behind you and see those eyes again, you knew that he was certainly staring down at you like a lecher, especially when you were bent over like this, your (uniform) skirt hiked up around your ass and... revealing the demeaning underwear he made you wear around the apartment, pink and frilly and barely enough fabric to keep you covered up. 

You gnawed at your lip and pressed your thighs together as you cupped your palm again, sweeping it over a heap of the smaller glass shards. You barely even registered when a shard of glass predictably lodged itself in your finger, so lost in your own thoughts that you couldn't feel the pain, though when you felt it, you immediately dropped the handful you had with a squeak and a shiver.

"Ah, fuck..." You took a slow hiss through your teeth, bringing your hand up to your face to inspect the wound a little more closely. You reached up with your other hand to pluck the glass from your skin quickly, so you could get back to work. 

"Keep going," Fox then said firmly, standing forward again. "You're not stopping just because you got hurt."

"Fox-Master, I just-"

"Don't you dare argue back," He interrupted you, his voice a harsh snap, so uncharacteristic that it made you immediately shut up. "Keep going. Now."

You bit your lip even harder, enough that you wondered if you'd made yourself bleed, before you did as you were told, placing both hands back on the ground and sweeping up more of the smaller shards with your bare palms, without another word of argument. You did your best not to whimper as your skin was cut multiple times, shallow slices dragged along the lines of your palms, tiny glass crystals lodged in your fingers, minute flecks of dust settling in the wounds, dotting blood down your skin, your wrists, on the fine marble floor. 

Once he felt that you had done an adequate job at cleaning up (and saw that your hands were beginning to shake and twitch from the blood) Fox squatted down in front of you and grabbed your wrist hard. 

Before you could even whimper or register what he was doing, he brought his mouth down to where the glass was lodged into your skin and ran his tongue along the worst wound on your palm, coating it and tasting your blood with a hungry expression on his face. 

He did this a few times, listening to you whimper and watching you squirm at the sensation, before letting your hand drop as he licked his lips, running his tongue over his fangs indulgently.

"Don't ever forget your place, slave," He said finally, before standing to his feet and leaving you to it. 

"Finish cleaning."

Costume (Ren/MC)

The zip of the latex catsuit slid easily up the small of your back, the thin metal cool against your burning skin, sealing inch after inch of your skin as it climbed up the gentle slope of your spine and to the middle of your neck, where your head was tilted forward obediently.

Your breath was already short, but it grew more and more shallow as the plastic was pulled tighter and tighter around your trembling body. 

The suit was probably a size too small for you, so it hugged every one of your curves as tightly as it possibly could, your body straining beneath the tight, breathless fabric.

"There," Ren said triumphantly behind you with an unseen smile, as he did up the little clasp at the middle of your neck and slid a small padlock through it (making you flinch again), locking you up tight, before smoothing a reassuring hand down your back. You barely suppressed a shudder as he touched you. "I knew it would fit you if we tried hard enough."

"Hmph," You grunted softly in acknowledgment, resting your gloved hands in your lap, where you were obediently kneeling down for him. 

"Don't pout," He said with a chuckle, idly running his fingers through your hair and pushing it over your shoulders so he could press a kiss to the sliver of skin that the latex wasn't covering. "You look beautiful. Like you walked right out of one of my fantasies."

"The less said about your fantasies, the better." You murmured softly, but that didn't stop your cheeks from flushing even darker at the compliments, genuine and sweet, like Ren often was when he was trying to get something he wanted.

He didn't take offense to your vaguely insulting words, it seemed, by the way he laughed again and crawled around your body to face you, his tail wagging as he admired you even further, his golden eyes gleaming with excitement.

"God, just look at you," He said, his voice a low purr as he placed his hands on your thighs, taking yours gently in his and rubbing his fingers over your latex-clad palms, careful not to drag his claws over the delicate plastic material. "All wrapped up tight in plastic." His voice dipped down into an indulgent growl as he brought his face close to your neck and ran the bridge of his nose against your jaw. "Like a doll. So perfect for me."

You took in a sharp little gasp at that particular name, your face almost beet red as you jerked your chin upwards before he had the chance to see how flustered he was getting you. 

Your breath grew even more shallow and you squirmed uncomfortably in your costume, the latex shifting and creaking with every tremble.

"Your nipples are getting hard," He mused with a hot breath against your already heated skin, his tail still wagging as he took one hand from yours and brought it up to the soft heft of your compressed chest under the tight plastic. "It looks pretty slutty, actually." He laughed again, running the pad of his thumb over the little bump, smiling at the way you twitched. "Pressing right up against the latex. Like you really are a fetish doll or something. A pretty little object made just for me."

"Mm...Ren," You whined softly, pressing your hands against his chest, your jaw trembling as he scented you, his sharp little fangs nipping at your neck and claiming what little skin he could with bruises. You knew that he was saying this for the sole purpose of teasing you even more, getting you wound up and hot, and...well, desperate for him. 

"Aw, but you're all sealed away," He giggled softly, raising his head to nip at your earlobe, nestling into your hair as he groped you a little harder, still teasing your nipples. "I can't fuck you like this, can I? And I guess I never will if I lose the key to this." 

He poked at the padlock behind your neck, making you flinch again.

"Don't tease me," You said with another little pout, biting your lip as his touch returned to your thigh and drifted up a little higher, against the plastic 'sealing' your cunt, for lack of a better word. 

"Mm, I think I will tease you, actually." He replied, pulling back and giving you a mocking smile. "It's too fun, not to. You're just so reactive~" 

It was a little unfair that he could play with you this easily.

Though you guessed that he was doing that on purpose. Just so you would begin to believe that you really were his toy.

His doll.

Orgasm Denial (Strade/MC)

"AH-AH-AH!"

You shrieked in time with each of Strade's hard thrusts, as he dragged your limp body down onto his cock, his full hips slamming against your backside rhythmically like a machine. 

He had been teasing and taunting you for what felt like hours, keeping two thick fingers inside of you, while he had you pinned in his lap and watched through one of the streams that you had edited for him ('earning your keep', he had called it when he first set you to the task), until you were so wound up and desperate that you were grinding against his thigh with whimpering little pleas, your wet cunt leaving a streak of damp in its wake. 

Eventually, after he was satisfied with your work, he took his hard cock from his slacks and pressed deep inside of you, first forcing your body to bend over his desk, your loose shorts long pushed aside, before pulling your hips back against his lap, stretching you out and filling you even deeper.

You breathed hard, your teeth grit and your eyes squeezed shut as he did so, your knees and hips already aching from the difficult, strenuous positions he was forcing you into, but you were so desperate to feel something, so desperate to cum that you didn't even care about your discomfort, as long as you got something, anything.

"I can feel your pussy clinging to me," He murmured through a hungry growl, his half-lidded eyes boring a hole into the back of your skull as he pushed you back against the desk and raised his hips, running the weeping head of his cock against your hole, listening to your pants and whimpers. "Like a fucking vice. You're close, aren't you, fraulein ?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded with a little squeak, suppressing a whimper as he kept dragging the tip of his cock over your clit and along the slit of your dripping cunt.

You didn't even think to lie to him. You couldn't think of those things anymore, you were that loyal to him now. 

"Mmm?" He hummed softly, letting his cock rest at the opening of your gasping hole as he reached up and wound your long hair around his palm. "You're gonna cum on my cock like the little slut you are, huh? You're just that fucking easy, aren't you, baby?"

"Yessss, I'm easy," You whined loudly, letting your head droop down for just a moment before you let out a yelp as he yanked your head back, digging his grubby nails into your scalp as he held your body upright. "AH! Yes, yes, I'm gonna-!"

"No, you're not," He then said, his voice quiet as he pressed his lips to your burning cheek, sliding his cock back inside you (with a disgustingly wet schlick ) and slowing down his thrusts to an even pace of shallow hip juts that barely kept you satisfied but left you hungry, starving, for even more. "You're not going to cum at all, actually."

"H-Huh?" You squeaked as he reached down in front of you with his free hand and started to rub your clit a little erratically. 

And he *never* did that.

"You heard me, dummkopf ," He replied, his voice an eager growl as he pressed deeper and deeper inside of you, entirely penetrating you like you were nothing more than a sex toy, a fuck doll in his lap, making you shriek and gasp. He hooked his stubbly chin over your shoulder and growled his next words into your neck in between bites and teasing kisses. "You're not going to cum. And if you do cum, we might have to recreate one of those scenes you edited for me."

He idly nodded toward the video that was still playing on his computer screen, and you were smart enough to know exactly what he was threatening you with. 

"Is that clear?" He purred, giving you a moment before he slapped your cunt with another rough yank of your hair. "I said, is that clear?"

"AH-! Y-Yes, it's clear!" You yelped, gritting your teeth as a tear ran down your cheek.

All the while he kept fucking you, occasionally slipping his cock out from inside you and thrusting the tip against your engorged clit (that he was still fucking rubbing) to make you squeak and shudder, your body spasming from the sudden stimulation.

It was heavenly, in the very worst possible way. As he pushed deeper inside of you and rubbed your clit, stimulating every one of your vulnerable spots, what felt like little jolts of electricity shot through your body and kept you constantly on edge, making every single nerve spark up with radiating white heat, just from the attention he was paying to you.

It felt good, so fucking good, that it was painful. 

You couldn’t and didn't try to stop the spasms or the shakes wracking your body, nor did you stop your soft whimpering from the white-hot pain that you didn’t want to ever, ever stop. 

You sort of hoped that he was misinterpreting this whole situation, hoped that he thought you hated this particular brand of torture when really, you fucking adored it, just so that he would use it against you a little more often.

You didn't have much of an opportunity to keep that secret to yourself though, before he suddenly pulled you back, forced your body into his lap again, pressing deep, *deep* inside of you and making you spill over involuntarily, covering his lap with your cum and shrieking out loud as you did so.

"Hah," He let out a short sigh of exertion as your body went slack against his desk again before he let out a bark of a laugh, flicking his hair from his face. "Ha! You really are dumb, aren't you? I thought we were clear , fraulein ."

You trembled just a touch as you tried to squirm away from him but he kept two strong hands bracketed to your hips quickly, keeping you pinned still.

"Well, well...looks like we're due for another show of our own, aren't we?~"

Threesome (Strade/MC/Ren)

"You know...I don't normally like sharing."

"Hm?"

You looked up towards your companion as the two of you worked through a pile of his laundry together, unpacking the heaving basket (he really did go through all of his clothes so quickly) and sorting through and folding up t-shirts, shorts and underwear for him to put away.

In the months of knowing Ren, you had grown fond of him. 

Maybe it was because he was a total nerd like you were, who liked the same things you did and was always happy to talk about movies or music with you while you did your daily chores, or it might have been the necessary comradery you both needed to survive, well...a place like this. 

There was something about Ren that was different from other nerdy boys you once knew, something that set him apart from a stereotypical captive of a sociopathic sadist, and you knew that from the first moment you met him.

You knew he was fucked up, in the same ways you were. 

You knew there were parts of Ren that had struggled in the same ways that you had, had struggled with darkness and being too difficult to love. Maybe he'd even had his own slew of college girlfriends (or maybe boyfriends) that had been unable to fix him, despite how much he had tried to be fixed. 

And even though the first few months had been difficult, clouded with his obvious jealousy and fear of being replaced in the eyes of his master, and your own sheer desperation to just survive until the next day, you had grown closer.

You had a routine of sorts now. You did his laundry, he cooked meatless meals for you. You showed him a game you liked and he looked up good horror anime to watch together.

It felt good to have a friend in here, someone to share all of this with, and someone who didn't think you were a freak for the slowly developing feelings you were having for the man responsible for all of this loneliness. 

"Yeah. I'm kind of the jealous type." Ren admits with a shy smile, folding one of his shirts into a neat little square, his hands trembling just a touch as your own idled over the task at hand. "I mean, I'm sure you probably could have guessed that..."

"Right," You replied with a guilty smile, glancing down. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

"But um...I do think I could get used to it...w-with you, I mean." His smile broke into a little, if slightly unsure, grin, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as his golden eyes met yours, sparkling with something you hadn't felt in months; hope. "It might actually be kinda nice to share all of this with someone else. Someone who understands."

You gulped, almost a little nervous as you felt a bit of a flush come to your cheeks, your lip trembling as you looked him up and down, as he occupied himself again with folding his laundry.

Not wanting Ren to see your watering eyes or your trembling jaw, you quickly crossed to his side of the desk, wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, as tight as you could manage without hurting him. You buried your face against his shoulder with an unsteady breath and enveloped yourself in his soft, comforting warmth, his scent of fur and clean hair and vanilla, and allowed your silent tears of sympathy and understanding to fall down your cheeks and hopefully soak into his shit. 

And though he was shocked into stillness for a few moments (perhaps due to the sudden act of affection without any bad intentions or malice behind it, something he was not at all used to), he eventually wound his arms around your middle and squeezed you back tightly, his twitching tail curling around your bodies and tangling the two of you together even further. 

You thought, for just a moment, that he might have started crying with you, when you felt him bury his face against your shoulder and his body start to tremble and shake in your tight embrace, but neither of you wanted to pull away and let this perfect, peaceful moment be ruined.

But, when Ren eventually did pull away with a subtle sniff, his ears twitching forward, he surprised you by pressing a firm kiss against your mouth, quickly and sweetly, like he was a little kid giving his crush their very first kiss.

You too pulled back, your eyes wide open and your lips parted with surprise. 

"A-Ah," Ren let out a little breath, his own eyes wide and his ears perched up high. ""I'm sorry! I-I thought that I could..." He gulped nervously before he bashfully looked down at the carpeted floor, his ears flattening down on the top of his head (meaning he was embarrassed or ashamed). "I thought that maybe you'd want to as well, cus, we were hugging, but, ah-" His tail straightened out nervously and moved stiffly behind him. "I'm sorry..."

"No," You murmured softly, letting your arms drop down from around his shoulders as you took his hands in yours, holding them tight, squeezing them reassuringly. "No, it's okay, Ren. It's okay."

He shivered a little, looking back at you as his ears tilted back up.

"You mean it?" He asked, digging one of his fangs into his bottom lip, gnawing on it as his worried expression faded, little by little. "It's okay?"

"It's okay," You smiled encouragingly, rubbing your thumbs over his palms, letting out a little sigh as the flush on your cheeks burned a little darker. "It's really okay, I promise."

"So," He continued as he held your hands back, his golden eyes shining that much brighter as a slight smile came to his sweet face. "Can I...can I kiss you again?"

You swallowed nervously, your eyes flitting downwards and your hands shaking a little as he ran his claws over your knuckles, grazing them like needle points very gently before you nodded your head.

You didn't know if Strade would take issue with the two of you doing, well, any of this, but you couldn't care less about what he would take issue with at that moment.

"Yeah...yeah, you can kiss me again." You replied with another nod. "You can kiss me."

The second kiss came much more easily than the first, as did the third, as did the fourth, as did the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh. His mouth was warm and wet against yours, tasting as sweet and as familiar as his scent, as he tore his fingers away from your hands and reached up to press them in your hair, and when you parted your lips against his, pressing closer to him, he pressed his tongue into your mouth, as slow and as smooth as lava.

Between each kiss and as he pressed closer to you, his tail wagging frantically behind him, you managed to pull away for enough time to yank off your shirt and sports bra and fling them both to the other side of the room, exposing your bare chest for him to see. Even in the comforting warmth of Ren's bedroom, the safe haven from the rest of the house, your newly pierced nipples were perky and pink with arousal. 

Ren stared at you like a man starved, his eyes wide and his face flushed. 

It made you feel desired. You didn't realise how much you had missed that feeling, without it being associated with a particularly violent subtextual meaning. 

You felt oddly demure as you led him to the other side of his desk and fell back into the pile of clothes, cushions, and fabric scraps that made up his nest of a bed, an eager smile spreading on your lips as Ren quickly pulled off his own shirt too and threw it aside with yours, kneeling over you as he did so.

His chest was covered in scars, much like the rest of him, and though the majority of his body appeared slight, lean, and slender, there was a softness to his stomach that you couldn't help but find utterly adorable.

"You're so beautiful..." He said, his voice soft and his tone oozing with sincerity, as he loomed over you, his small body caging your own with ease as his hungry eyes continued to stare. "C-Can I...please, can I-"

"You can do whatever you want." 

With your permission granted, he immediately dipped his head to kiss your neck, paying close attention to the bruises and mocking love bites that peppered the more sensitive areas, the hollow of your throat, the skin beneath your jaw, your collarbones, mean little reminders of ownership left by his…your master. 

Your back arched with each kiss and wet streak of spit from his tongue, pressing your chest against his, and you couldn't help the long, keening moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips as he grazed his sharp, needle-point teeth against the sensitive juncture between your neck and your shoulder. 

If he wanted to bite you, really bite you and dig his teeth in and make you bleed, you'd let him, you think. 

Strade had made his mark on you a number of times already, so it was probably fair that Ren got his chance as well.

You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, curling them into a weak fist, and tugged his head downwards in a silent instruction for him to pay some attention to your chest. The whimper he let out, the keening mewl that lurched its way out of the very back of his throat, sparked a fire deep inside of your core, and you threw an arm over your face to hide just how much you were blushing, as he pressed an insistent kiss to each shuddering breast.

"You're...you're so good for me..." Ren whispered against your skin, his voice low and husky, and when he caught your barely masked gaze with his own, his eyes were half-lidded and filled with desperate, urgent need, a dreamy smile on his face. "So loud and receptive and...god, I want you so bad."

He dragged his tongue up your breast and latched his sharp teeth onto your nipple, his ears tilting back at the sound of your high moans as he sucked the swollen little nub gently and dragged the bulge of his erect cock against the growing wet patch of your shorts.

“Ahhn…” You groaned, your head swimming from the pleasure, as he dug one of his fangs into your nipple teasingly, reaching up to unbutton and unzip his jeans and shift them down his hips, taking away another barrier between the two of you and letting you feel the heat and warmth of his cock through the thin layer of his cotton boxers. “R-Ren…nghh, please…”

"Well, well, well, now isn't this a surprise?"

When the two of you heard Strade's voice, your instant reaction was to get away from each other, both of your bodies shooting backward like magnets repelling. Your face burned red with embarrassment at being so exposed as you wiped a thin stream of drool from your lips and covered your breasts with your arm, all while Ren attempted to readjust himself, pulling up his jeans to make his obvious erection a little less obvious.

Strade didn’t appear too bothered by the state of you though, as he loomed in the bedroom door casually, idly tossing and catching a ruby red apple up and down, up and down, rhythmically. 

If anything, he appeared to be somewhat pleased to find the both of you in such a compromising position, a slow grin coming to his face and his eyebrows raised, like he had found something particularly interesting.

"Strade!" Ren managed to squeak, his shaking hands still trembling and struggling to button up his jeans. "I-It isn't what it looks like, I swear, we weren't doing anything-"

"Now, now, little fox." Strade interrupted, his voice low but undeniably teasing and amused. "I'm not mad. I'm actually kind of impressed." He stopped catching the apple and raised it to his lips, taking a swift bite and smiling as he chewed, his teeth wet. "I didn't think you had it in you! Masel tov!"

A furious blush came to Ren's face as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable and maybe even a little bit frightened by Strade's sudden presence in his room, the deliberate invasion of his safe haven away from the older man. Strade appeared to be ignorant of this, that or he didn’t care enough to notice, as he continued to chew open-mouthed on his apple, still staring the two of you down.

"Well, come on now. By all means, don't stop on my account." He said, making both of you look up at him with wide, frightened eyes, as his own softened with poorly concealed lust. "I wanna see where this goes."

"You...you can't be serious," Ren mumbled softly, his quiet tone taking on a grave quality, his thin brows furrowed in concern under his bangs and his tail standing stiff with fear, his eyes meeting your own with an expression of concern and undeniable care.

"Ah, you’re misunderstanding me. I see." Strade replied with a short laugh as he casually sauntered into Ren’s bedroom, placing the half-eaten apple core on his desk before leaning against it, his hands behind his back, his feet crossed over the top of each other. 

Ever casual, never one to reveal anything. 

“That wasn’t a question. I’m telling you. Keep going. ”

"S-Strade..." Ren mumbled softly, tearing his eyes away from yours and looking back towards your captor. "Come on, we weren't...doing anything."

"Mm, of course, of course." Strade hummed, running his tongue over his teeth as he casually reached down to the pocket of his slacks. "So, our dear, sweet fraulein here just...sits around with their top off all the time, hm? How unlucky of me to have never caught that!" He laughed as he pulled out a leather holster, revealing it to you from his pocket, and yanked his well-used bowie knife from it, sharp silver shining in the low light of Ren's bedroom. "Don't make me ask twice, Ren. You of all people know what happens when I do that."

You could feel your heart beating at the very back of your throat as you heard Strade's words, a reaction that you knew Ren must have been feeling too, by the way his body stiffened, his Adam's apple bobbing against his frail throat.

"W-What do you want me to do?" Ren stammered softly, his eyes flitting down bashfully, his expression that of fear and unspoken obedience .

"Touch them like you were," Strade said curtly, though with a look of eminent satisfaction on his face, pointing the knife towards you, threatening you. "Take them. Fuck them, and fuck them hard . That’s what I want you to do, fuchs. "

Ren's eyes widened again at the sudden direction of the knife, his ears flattening again at the mean petname, and his eyes went back to you, just as frightened as you were. 

He gulped hard again and took a few steps closer to you, looking down at you with an expression of guilt and concern, because at least he had the decency to feel that, if anything, gnawing his lip as he knelt down over you again and took your chin in hand, his delicate little claws digging into your cheek and jaw. 

You knew that Ren wouldn't have had a chance in Hell at standing up to Strade if he tried, you knew that and you didn’t want him to get hurt defending you, but you couldn't help but feel a twist of betrayal in your gut at his complete lack of opposition to him, that he was doing as he was told without even the slightest argument. 

"Just...pretend it's us, okay?" Ren said quietly, his tone earnest and protective, obviously trying to make the most of the situation as a nervous smile came to his face. "Like we were before, yeah? When it felt good."

"Mm," You let out a muffled grunt as he shifted back on top of you, his hand back on your breast, his cock (slightly soft but not nearly as much as it should have been) pressing back against the warm spot in your shorts.

Ren kept looking at you intently, gauging your reaction as he tried to resume the pace that you had been going at before, teasing a nipple as he rubbed his cock up against your clothed cunt, and though it felt good, because of course it felt good, you couldn't stop your stomach from churning tight little knots at the reminder of who was watching, who was judging the two of you and seeing how well you could perform for him. 

"Ah," Ren let out a little groan, reaching back down to unbutton his jeans and shift them down his thighs with his underwear before he pressed his cock against the gusset of your shorts, rubbing the weeping head against the sodden fabric. 

Any hesitance he might have had wasn't stopping him, it seemed.

Maybe he had felt conflicted about it, conflicted in the ethics of enjoying a largely unresponsive body underneath his, but his enjoyment and evident arousal seemed to have been winning against his quickly depleting morals. 

"You're taking your sweet time, fuchs ," Strade commented dryly behind the two of you, picking dirt from his nails with the tip of his knife, his voice loud enough to make Ren flinch and his rutting hips stutter. "Show me something I want to see or I'm going to get impatient." 

“R-Right, yes, I’ll try.” Ren stammered, his sweet face blushing bright red as he brought both hands to your hips and pulled at the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down quickly, forcefully, his claws grazing the soft skin of your thighs and leaving behind shallow marks in your skin. He took a deep breath and then nodded a bit, like he was trying to amp himself up, more than anything else, before speaking quietly yet again with a soft and concerned gaze toward you. “S-Sorry if this is…ya know, uncomfortable…”

You barely managed a flat glare in his direction before he was pushing himself inside of you roughly, your cunt nowhere near wet enough to support an easy entry as he pressed up, right to the very base of his cock, where his knot was beginning to swell. You shrieked shrilly and clung tight to his smaller body, digging your nails into his back and making him bite back a whimper, as his cock slid out of you and his hips jerked backward at the pain.

Funny. You would have imagined he'd have a greater pain tolerance by now.

He bit his lip with an annoyed (almost panicked) little grunt, reaching down to the base of his cock and jerking his fist up and down it a few times, to get himself hard and ready to push back inside of you. 

"Can't keep it up, Ren?" Strade then asked with a mean chuckle, slamming the knife down into the wood of the desk and standing behind him, looming and lecherous as Ren kept trying to keep himself hard, muttering out little excuses, protests, ‘please, just give me a second’s. "Well, you know what they say...don't send a boy to do a man's job, eh, fraulein ?"

He pet the space between Ren's ears condescendingly before he made eye contact with you, raising an eyebrow as his honey-deep eyes narrowed a touch. 

"Come here, baby."

Biting your lip and shooting an apologetic look toward Ren as you do so, you obediently crawl out from underneath him and over to Strade's side, humiliation and shame making you shiver as the two men watch every move ardently. 

A slow, satisfied smile came to Strade's face when you knelt at his side, and when he stroked your hair, sweet and cloying and nothing he’d really do to you in a thousand years, you instantly keened into his touch with a pleased sigh, kneeling up even further to chase the touch when he pulled back for a moment.  

He let out a soft laugh from the back of his throat as he kept stroking through your hair, like you were a pet in his lap. 

The comparison, you thought, was quite apt at that moment.

He knew he had you in the palm of his hand, and what was worse, he knew that he could do anything to you just as long as he followed it with these moments of quiet kindness. 

All the while, Ren was watching intently, his gaze growing heated and..even a little jealous. 

It was an expression that you were familiar with.

"Hm…I’m really sorry to break this to you, buddy" Strade started, his gaze going back towards Ren, his voice domineering and demanding of all attention in the quiet room, as he pushed a hand through your hair and pulled your head forward to press against the quickly stiffening bulge in his trousers. "But your little playmate here is already a nasty little whore. Isn't that right, liebling ?"

Unable to truly answer with words, you pressed your face against his crotch, gripping his trouser leg in a desperate attempt to ground yourself when you were feeling so dazed, and took a long breath of him, enveloping yourself in his warmth, his scent.

Much like Ren’s attempt to ignore his animal impulses, the urge to fight back was weaning, quickly, as you let yourself be used by him. 

"Is someone getting jealous?" Strade asked with a teasing lilt to his voice, his smirk broadening as his eyes went up to meet Ren's heated gaze, as he twisted his fingers in your hair and kept you pinned against his broad thigh, unzipping his slacks with his other hand and palming himself, despite keeping you so still. “You can tell me, Ren…”

Ren's eyes stayed locked on Strade’s, his cheeks flushing a little as his eyes flitted down to the ground. The younger man was silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond before he said something.

"M-Maybe..." Ren stammered in a quiet voice, a slight pout to his full lips.

"Aw, how sweet~" The older man crooned as his smirk shifted into a grin. "Jealous of who, I wonder?"

Ren gulped tightly, looking more and more embarrassed as he averted his eyes, his tail swishing behind him.

“You know who,” He replied, his voice almost curt, despite how much he was blushing. 

"Ah, do I?" Strade hummed thoughftully as he tilted his head, letting out a little sigh through his teeth as he tugged his cock from his underwear and slowly jerked it, in front of your waiting eyes. "How about you tell me, fuchs ? How about you tell me with your words? It’s unlike you to be so quiet, so shy…"

Ren barely resisted a little whimper at the back of his throat, his hands balling into fists at his sides, watching the two of you intently as Strade jerked himself off, as you pressed yourself even closer to his cock, inhaling his scent.

He looked almost angry, angry about how jealous he was.

Perhaps angry that Strade always managed to wind him up like this. Always managed to get what he wanted, no matter what that might have been. 

"I- I'm jealous of you touching her..." Ren replied quietly and with a bit more embarrassment clear to his tone, his little body practically shaking with shame. “I’m jealous that you can take her so easily…and I’m jealous that you’re taking her and not me.”

Strade let out a condescending 'tut' with his tongue, before he leaned back against the desk, keeping your head pinned to his thigh as the grip around his cock tightened, just a touch, enough to make the vein next to his knuckles stand up, his eyes ever indulgent as they glanced from you and back towards Ren.

"Nothing's stopping you from joining your little friend on your knees, sweetheart," He crooned, obviously appealing to a softer part of Ren, a needier part of him that yearned for Strade, as much as you did. "Go ahead, if you're so jealous."

Your eyes shot back to see how the younger man would respond to such an invitation. Predictably, Ren blushed heavily, his ears upright and erect, his tail still, his cock hard, evidently not realizing how badly he had wanted to do exactly what Strade was telling him to do. 

"Can I...?  I really want to..." Ren mumbled quietly and in a pleading tone, feeling like he wanted nothing more than to be in the same position as you, serving his master, worsipping him.

“Get down,” Strade growled softly, his eyes dark and starving when you looked up at him and his whole expression victorious, like he had won the best possible prize at the fair. “On your knees.”

Ren sank down to his knees obediently, without even a word  and crawled over to the both of you, perching himself next to you, his naked thigh pressing to yours, his frantically wagging tail carressing your back.

In the end, the two of you did grow closer…just like you had wanted to.

Shotgunning (Lawrence/MC)

"Can I try some?"

Your voice was quiet in the heavy, moisture-dense air of the apartment, in the quiet of the city waiting outside the wide windows, as you sat up on the bed and moved a little closer to Lawrence, who had just lit up a joint.

They had taken some time to prep it after settling cross-legged on the ground, grinding up a little nugget of weed and tobacco as you idly scrolled through your phone, your eyes occasionally shooting up to watch them as they rolled the rolling paper tightly and reached for the lighter from their bedside.

"Huh?"

They looked up towards you, lowering the joint after taking their first drag and exhaling the mouthful of smoke steadily. They blinked curious grey eyes and ran their tongue over their chapped bottom lip, taking a moment to compose themselves.

"Can you try some...what? The joint?” They blinked again, before they nodded their head, shaking a heavy chunk of blonde hair across their shoulder. “Um…y-yeah, sure you can..."

They held the joint up towards you, sitting up on the knees to be closer.

You set your phone down and scooted up on their bed, throwing your legs over the side before taking the joint in hand and inspecting it closely. 

"I've, er…I’ve never tried it before, actually." You said softly, looking from the joint and towards them again. "Can you show me how?"

A light smile came to their pretty face as they let out a low chuckle, pushing their hair back behind their ear in a practiced, delicate gesture.

"Sure..." They said with a nod before they took the joint back from you. "So you gotta take a drag on it...like this,"

You watched intently as they raised it back to their lips and took a long drag on it, an indulgent look of thoughtless sleepiness on their face, which you enjoyed…maybe a little more than you should. They held the smoke on their tongue for a moment, before taking a long inhale through their nose and then exhaling, breathing out the smoke slowly.

When they breathed out, the smoke streaming from their lips and nostrils looked like worms, like tendrils, like vines, thin and white. You didn't even try shaking off that intrusive though

"Then you exhale like that. Don't try to hold it in for too long or you'll cough like crazy." They then said with another little smile, holding the joint back out to you. “Try it.”

You huffed through your nose and rolled your eyes at their instructions, feeling condescended to despite Lawrence’s sincerity, and took the joint again, raising it to your lips and taking in a slow drag. 

Lawrence watched as intently as you had as you took a second drag on the joint and held your breath, holding the smoke on your tongue, thick and smokey.

"Yeah...that's it.” They praised, tilting their head slightly. “Just take it in slowly, don't let it catch you off-guard." Their smile broke into a slight grin. "You're doing it right though. So, so far so good..."

Your brain felt like it was slowing down, bit by bit, as you held the smoke on your tongue for a moment longer, before you took in a breath, a quick inhale, too quick to let the smoke permeate your thoughts properly, and when you tried to exhale outwards steadily, as they had, your breath caught roughly in your throat and made you cough. 

Lawrence started laughing, something you had never seen them really do, but tried to suppress it with a fist raised to their lips. It was nice, even kind of sweet, but you couldn’t really pay attention to the gesture when you were still coughing.

"Aah, ah, you're getting it…” They said through quiet chuckles, sitting up from the floor to rub your back. “Well, you were getting it...it’s okay, you’re okay…"

"I don’t like weed," You groaned as you held the joint out back to them. “Or smoking, or anything. I don’t want anything in my lungs but air now, actually.”

Lawrence laughed again, taking back the joint as they kept rubbing your back, as your coughing settled down into slow breaths.  

"Mm…ah, there is a technique that you might enjoy a little more." They murmured softly, as the hand on your back slid upwards, up towards the very top of your spine, gently stroking the sharp notch of the bone. “Do you wanna try it with me?”

“Alright,” You replied, keening up a little into the touch, as Lawrence got closer to you on the bed, their bare thigh pressing against yours, knees knocking together. “Why not?” 

Their hand trembled a little, long fingers twitching, as they held the burning joint back up to their own lips, taking in a longer exhale than they had before, their grey eyes flitting shut with the pleasurable sensation of numbness that followed with it. 

They let their hand relax against your thigh then, the glowing ember of the joint warm against your skin, as they inhaled sharply and peered back towards you, and brought their face closer to yours, close enough to kiss, close enough that you could smell the heavy scent of weed on their breath, on top of the plant matter and soil that clung to them. 

"Now...inhale as I exhale...slow...steady."

When they exhaled the mouthful of smoke against your lips, you took in a shaking little inhale, feeling both the smoke and the warmth of Lawrence’s breath on your skin and tasting the haze of the weed on your tongue.  

“That's good...that's very good," Lawrence praised very softly, watching as you took in more of the smoke, rubbing your thigh encouragingly. “Taste it. Taste the smoke on your tongue.”

It was difficult to focus on what they were saying, exactly, as you felt their warm breath against your lips, their big hand on your thigh rubbing against your skin. 

This felt better than taking the joint normally, that was all you knew.

They moved forward slightly, their body leaning toward yours, sitting thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder. 

"That...feels nice," You mumbled softly as you exhaled finally, your head swimming nicely through the haze of weed, the haze of suddenly burgeoning arousal. “Mm…yeah. Maybe I get it now.” You then said with a little chuckle, peering towards Lawrence when you felt the muscles in their thigh tense up a little, felt them shiver.

Without a word, Lawrence leaned in further, their mouth hovering over yours again, but the hand on your thigh didn’t move. You felt their breath on your lips again. Their fingers were trembling ever so slightly as they keened parted lips against yours, inhaling your own scent as they did so.

"Law..." You mumbled softly, your cheeks flushing a little darker as the hand rubbing your spine spanned forward against your cheek, cupping it so gently.

"Kiss me." They then whispered against your lips, their breath warm and hot and alive in a way they so often weren't . 

You couldn't think of any reason not to.

You leaned in and kissed them softly, tasting the smokey sweetness on their lips as your tongue pressed forward and parted them, letting you deepen the kiss and properly enjoy the comforting warmth of their mouth.

The two of you tumbled back against the bed, making out hungrily like a pair of doped-up teenagers.

You didn't even notice when the ember of the joint burnt the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Menophilia (Fox/MC)

You were in trouble .

Fox had caught you trying to signal the attention of a member of staff that had flitted to and from the apartment while he was working, and naturally assumed the worst of you. Not like you could really blame him. 

You were a hostage, for God's sake, who knew what you could have gotten up to when you were out of his sight?

That's why you were sitting in the living room, your (metaphorical) tail between your legs, waiting for the scolding of a lifetime.

"So...would you like to explain to me what you were doing trying to contact my staff?" Fox said, his tone almost grave as he closed the door of his office behind him and leaned against it. "I do hope you weren't planning an escape...after all I've done to train you so well, after everything that we’ve done? I should really be more insulted than I am, you know."

"I wasn't," You murmured softly, looking down at your lap with a shake of your head as he paced to your front, kneading your fingers against your thigh. "I wasn't planning to escape, that's...not what I was doing, I promise."

"Oh? What was it, then?" He asked with a raised brow, taking a step closer to you, taking your chin in his hand and raising it up to meet his eyes, his own cold. You made a little noise of discomfort when he took your face in hand, looking down at your flushed expression with a vague look of condescending sympathy. 

Better that than anger, you guessed.

"What were you planning, if not an...elaborate escape? A surprise party, maybe? Should I have my secretary write up an RSVP?" He finished with a forced chuckle, a little shrug of his shoulders.

"I just...I needed something that I didn't have," You replied, your words a little slurred as he squished your cheeks. 

"What could you possibly need that you don't already have?" He then asked, narrowing his eyes a touch, like he couldn't believe what you were saying. "You're provided everything in the world, the best possible luxuries, and yet, you still demand more? How insatiable of you, pet. You'll be wanting to go to the opera next!" 

Your cheeks flushed again as you tried to pull back from his firm grip, but it only encouraged him to pull you in even closer, digging his claws into the soft skin.

He took a moment to brush a thick lock of hair behind your ear to reveal your flushed face to his view, smirking lightly before it twitched for just a moment, as his nostrils flared and he finally took a good long whiff of you, and...worked out the reason you were trying to ask for things from his staff in almost an instant. 

Your face flushed bright red immediately when the expression of recognition slowly came to his face, trying to avert your gaze and hide just how embarrassed you were, as a slow and hungry smirk spread on his face.

"Sooo, that's what it is," The older man chuckled darkly, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement and mischief. "Someone forgot to take their birth control, didn't they? Haha, how cute! Now you're streaming like a fountain, aren't you?"

"Oh my god," You murmured, practically trembling from how mortified you were feeling, trying desperately to pull back from him.

"Aww..." He grinned a little wider, clicking his tongue in mock sympathy. "Did you think that I wouldn't work out your little secret?" He laughed again at your blushing and trembling. "Or were you hoping I wouldn't notice? I'm a fox, if you forgot, sweetheart," He leaned a little closer, his ears twitching and his tail wagging, seemingly emphasising his point even further. "I can smell it now, actually, now that it’s just the two of us..."

"Can you please just ask someone to get me some tampons or something...?" You mumbled, keeping your eyes locked down and waiting desperately to just be dismissed.

"And why would I do that, darling?" He laughed again and rubbed your chin as he watched your embarrassed and trembling reactions indulgently. "I mean I'm enjoying this very much, personally.”

"Fox..." You whimpered softly, biting your lip as your cheeks flushed even more. "Please...I don't ask you for anything."

"I'm not giving you anything either." He replied easily, finally letting go of your face to join you on the couch, slinging an arm around your trembling shoulders and watching you with a sharp grin. "Maybe if you let me enjoy what I want first, I'll think about providing you with what you need , hm?"

You didn't move your head, not wanting to look up and be an accomplice to your own degradation, but your eyes flitted upwards to see as he placed his free hand on your thigh, digging his claws in and gently, barely jerking it to the side to meet his own thigh, wordlessly telling you what he wanted, what he expected.

You didn't say a thing as you let your legs part, showing a soaking, red stain on your white underwear and the smear of blood covering your inner thighs.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the small stain, but the older man didn't resist an even wider grin as he grabbed your thigh even harder and yanked your body down against the couch, offering him the perfect opportunity to cage you down and stare at the mess between your legs. 

"Well, would you look at that?" He said, with a voice as close to awe as a bastard like Fox could manage. "And they have no one to blame but themselves for not asking me just a little bit sooner~ You really could have avoided all of this mess, sweetheart."

"You would have said no..." You murmured softly as he got closer to you, his nostrils flared and dragging your scent in, keeping your legs parted with a firm grip on your thigh.

"Of course, I would have said no, are you kidding?" He replied with a scoff. "I would have done it just to watch you squirm like this and see the look on your face. Priceless! It would have been just too cute for me to resist."

You let out an unsteady breath, almost a whimper, through your gritted teeth as he continued to stare down at you, taking in long breaths of your heavy scent like he was indulging in a delicious meal or a fine wine. After a few moments, he finally looked you in the eye, his own blown wide with hunger, running his tongue over his jaws.

"Do you want me to clean you up?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper, and leaned closer, his clawed finger running up the middle of the soaking gusset of your panties, where the blood was still soaking through.

"H-Huh?"

"I said..." The older man repeated himself, his voice taking a teasing undertone, as his expression got hungrier. "Do you want me to clean up your little mess, pet~?"

You didn't answer properly, not with your words, not trusting them enough not to give away how nervous and frightened you were. You took in another breath, still wet blood seepeing down your thigh and soaking into your panties. Despite everything telling you to do otherwise, though, you parted your legs further, showing him the mess of blood between your legs.

"Hah..." 

With a slow, drawn-out motion, his fingers shifted from your thighs and the soft folds of your pelvis, to the soaking creases of your underwear, gently pulling the wet fabric away from your sticky labia as he stared intently at the mess. A hungry grin painted his darkened features as he looked at it, his eyes hungry and inquisitive as he smeared the blood even further down your trembling thigh.

"It looks like you leaked quite a bit." He said softly, placing himself between your legs. "It must have been all day, right? All day...you leaked all day long and didn't even try to ask me for help..." He ran his tongue over his teeth again as he leaned in a little closer, his face inches from yours. "Now...how about we get you out of those dirty panties once and for all, and I can have a proper taste, hm?"

"T-Taste?" You said quickly, sitting up.

"Well, if you've been leaking all day, I do think it is only fair to taste what you've offered up." He replied with an easy smirk. 

You didn't have the chance to react before he was dipping his head and running his tongue over your hole, delving and devouring almost immediately as soon as he got the taste of your blood.

"Oh...ohhhh," You gasped, your once wide eyes sliding shut as you felt his lips trail against your labia, your clit, completely undeterred by the blood that was still oozing from inside of you as he kept your legs parted forcibly. "Oh god, Fox..." Your gasps faded into moans as you pressed your head back against the couch and raised your hips against his tongue.

He was tasting you, well and truly, and what's more, he was enjoying it.

Almost as much as you were.

He pulled back just a touch to breathe hotly against your cunt, his tongue lightly dancing over your clit as you heard him chuckle and moan quietly, raggedly, too overwhelmed by his own pleasure to try and intimidate you. 

"You taste perfect," He mumbled softly, pressing another deep kiss to your hole, his sharp teeth grazing your skin as he tasted you. "Oh, if you only knew how much your master has been wanting this~"

You moaned softly, letting your hips tilt upwards a touch as he dragged your body down against his, letting him devour you just the way he wanted, his fingers kneading your hips as he did so, digging into the soft folds of your tummy, your thighs. 

You couldn't resist reaching down and pushing a hand through his hair, rubbing against the base of his fox ears as they twitched at the motion. You were relieved that he let you do something that invasive, and even surprised when he moaned a little and pressed against you even more, pushing his tongue deeper and tasting every drop of new blood oozing from you. 

"Fox...ahhn..." You groaned, wrapping a leg around his slim shoulders, letting you rock up against his devouring mouth a little more. You probably looked a mess but like you cared. He looked at you like a piece of art, a fine meal, so that's how you felt.

"Please keep going..." You begged, squeezing your eyes shut. "Never stop, never stop..." 

"Ah," He gasped raggedly, glaring up at you with eyes blown wide with hunger and desperation, his face smeared with blood and his sharp teeth stained with the same. "You have NO idea what you're asking of me, pet…”

Body Modification (Strade/MC)

"You know that you can just buy these online?" 

Strade's voice was casual, almost playful, as if he was talking about what he had for lunch and not vaguely threatening you (as he often did), as he used his knife to slice open a package he was holding, sifting through it with a raised brow. 

"They don't even ask for a license or anything. Wild!" He continued with a laugh, fishing out what looked like...a set of needles. 

He held it up to the flickering light of the basement, his gaze scrutinous before he looked towards you again with a smirk. 

"I can only imagine the amount of adrenaline-hopped kids shoving these things into themselves. That's what we used to do, anyway."

You swallowed hard, looking from his eyes and to the pack of needles, sparkling and silver in the light, your brows knitting together in concern.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice unnervingly soft.

"Hmph," He let out another laugh, an (unfortunately) attractive huff through his nose before going back to his drawer of tools to look for something, a clatter of metal and tools loud in the small room as he sifted through it. "You don't have enough holes yet~"

Your face flushed bright red and you felt your brain start to short-circuit just thinking about what he could be planning, shivering and trembling in the cool air of the basement.

"S-Strade..." You muttered, trying so hard to stay calm but barely able to stop your teeth from chattering. "What are you doing?"

"Shaking already, eh?" He said with a little click of his tongue, fishing out a sharp pair of pliers and facing you again. "Don't be such a baby. You've gone through way worse than this."

You were silent as he paced across the basement and to the support beam that you were tied to (as you often were), staring down at you hungrily.

"You know, I like it when you're less docile..." He continued, his voice a little softer as he lowered himself down to one knee and yanked your shirt up your chest in a clenched fist, dragging you closer to his own body and exposing your breasts all in one go. "You're a lot more fun. I like when you're fun."

"Mmf..." You shivered a little more, yanking at your bondage, as he set down his tools and reached forward to run his thumb over one of your nipples, watching indulgently as the little nub hardened and swelled. 

You took in a sharp inhale and bit your lip hard to keep from making any more sounds, trembling as your chest felt all the more sensitive.

It felt so... forbidden. And so good.

If Strade's intent was to torture you, he was failing spectacularly.

"Feel good?" Strade asked after a moment, leaning in to bring his face closer to yours. "You can admit it, you know. I like making you feel good, too." 

"Nnnh..." You gasped again when Strade started to circle his thumb around your nipple, stimulating the sensitive spot and clearly relishing in just how much you were reacting to it, your breathing growing heavier and your mouth open with each desperate gasp. "P-Please..."

"Please?" Strade raised a brow with a slight smirk, gently pinching the swelling nub, between his thumb and pointer finger. “Please what, fraulein? Please keep going, please stop?” 

You barely even registered what he was saying, hissing through your teeth as your eyes squeezed shut and you pressed yourself closer to Strade’s larger body. You were so lost to sensation now, so caught up in the burning pleasures, your body trembling as Strade's fingers worked on your chest.

"Mm, I think that's pretty good..." Strade mumbled to himself quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, before taking the pair of pliers in hand and closing the metal teeth on your sensitive nipple.

The second you felt the tight squeeze of the pliers, your eyes shot open and a harsh cry was forced from your lips, the pain causing your body to instinctively try to pull away from Strade's, though the support beam prevented you from going anywhere.

Strade didn't stop himself from giving the pliers a teasing little tug, a mean smile on his face as you screamed, a tear rolling down your cheek at the pain. It certainly wasn't the worst thing you had felt, not by a long shot, but even so, it was hideously painful.

"Very nice. Very nice, indeed." Strade hummed with an indulgent smile. "Now..." After swapping the pliers to the hand still clutching your shirt (yanking your sore breast up a little higher), he reached over to the set of needles and fished one out of the little baggie, the point sharp and dangerous as he lined it up with the swollen flesh of your nipple. 

Your body immediately went still at the sharp point, your wide eyes unblinking as you stared at him, waiting for the pain.

"I always liked piercings," He said casually, like he was just having a regular conversation. "I dated a guy in my twenties who was covered with them, you know, he was this alternative queer in Berlin with piercings and tattoos all over, and they'd always make me crazy. Of course, that was before I killed him." He laughed again, pressing a little more against the needle, a bead of blood welling to the surface as he did so. “He was the perfect guy, then.”

You grit your teeth together, still pulling at your bondage and waiting for the pain, but still, there was nothing...nothing.

"You're already pretty close to perfect in my eyes," Strade continued, with just a touch of affection in his hungry eyes, affection that might have been genuine had he not been threatening you with a needle. "Let's get you even closer, hm?"

He didn't bother counting you in, nor waiting for your guard to drop fully before he pushed the needle into the reddened flesh.

You yelped loudly in pain as blood instantly welled up to the wound and trailed down your breast. Your body was shaking and fighting against the ropes, though to no avail. 

He knew better now not to tie you down so loosely.

After fishing for what looked like a slim metal hoop from his bag of tools, he then pulled the needle from your flesh and slid the open hoop through the freshly bleeding hole with a surprising amount of care, his fingers twisting on the delicate metal ball at the end of the hoop like he'd done it before.

And maybe he had.

"There!" Strade pulled his hands back with a triumphant grin, admiring the new piercing that adorned your shuddering chest. "It's pretty cute...and your little tits are all puffy and sensitive now, eh?" He then teased, leaning forward and running a blood-spotted finger over the new piercing through your chest, stimulating it while it was now so painfully sensitive.

You couldn't answer, your muscles spasming in pleasure (in pain) as Strade's fingers trailed over the new jewelry, his other hand reaching up to palm your unmarred breast. 

The pain was still there, because of course it was, but it was now just another way to heighten the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through your body.

"Hhhh..." You moaned softly (to Strade’s evident albeit deeply pleased surprise) as he touched you, starting to stimulate your other nipple with a hungry look. "D-do you think you should... do the other one?"

"Mm, I think that's an excellent idea, fraulein ," Strade purred with a broader smile, running his tongue along your jaw, his wet teeth pressing a smile into your neck.

"Let's get right to it."

Exhibitionism (Ren/MC)

You stood still on the train carriage, crammed between bodies squeezed in tight like sardines in a can, holding onto the hanging strap like it was the only thing that would keep you from falling, keep you upright.

In the months of getting to know each other, you had earned enough of Ren's trust for him to let you out of the house on what he called a 'date' - a day out in the city where he would treat you to anything you wanted, just so long as you behaved exactly as he wanted. 

You couldn’t deny that a part of you was a little excited by the prospect.

However, that was naturally superseded by the parts of you that were incredibly anxious about giving him that much control over you. The control that he so desperately craved.

Ren kept an authoritative hand on your hip all the while, his tail idly swishing to and fro behind him (in the small space you were both crammed into) as he scrolled through his phone, ever casual, occasionally chuckling at jokes on his timeline and playing videos on silent. When you were standing so close to him, you could see a playful smile on his face.

"Oh, we're not too far now," He said, looking towards you as he clicked off the social media app he was browsing and through his phone menu. "Just a couple more stops and we'll be in the town center. I can't believe how busy the train is today!"

"Heh, yeah," You forced out a chuckle, your face taking on a reddish hue as he slid his hand lower, threading his thumb through the belt loop of your jeans and pulling you a little closer to his side. You had a bit of a height advantage, and that was more obvious the closer you stood, when his pointed ears barely grazed your cheek, but that didn't stop you from ducking your head down submissively as he pulled you close, trying to make yourself look smaller. "It's, um, it's pretty busy. But it’s a Friday, so…"

"Yeah," He mused with a low drawl, as he brought up an app screen you didn't recognise and began to fiddle with it, toying with settings and other things (written in Japanese). "We should probably be careful with what we say."

Without warning, you began to feel a soft, albeit deceptively powerful buzzing, pressed right up against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and against your swollen clit. 

You had seen this coming.

He'd been torturing you with this particular toy all morning, and had only conceded to the date on the second condition that he could keep it inside of you while you were out in public, visible to the entire public. And, despite how much you had argued against that condition, you had ultimately relented to his whims, out of your own sheer desperation to leave the house.

You did your best not to flinch, nor to let your expression give away the surprising (and deeply pleasurable) buzzing against your cunt, lest anyone else in the packed train carriage clock what the two of you were up to. You instead reached down and grabbed his elbow tightly, digging your nails into him through his jacket and thick coat.

Ren smiled a little broader and put his phone away in his pocket, humming to himself innocently, as if he was none the wiser, as he reached down to the short hem of your skirt (another condition to you leaving the house, though this one was more of a gentle suggestion than anything else) and slid his palm against your arse, giving it a gentle squeeze, teasing you and winding you up even more.

You tried not to flinch at that either, though you were sure that your flushed cheeks were giving the game away to anyone who might have been in the know.

"We're going to have a lot of fun today," Ren murmured, letting his head rest against your shoulder, his tail wagging a little slower and gradually curling around your legs, comforting when he was (kind of) the opposite. "Because I know you're going to do as I say, aren't you, sweetie?"

"Mmhmm," You nodded, biting your lip as he squeezed your arse a little harder, one of his claws toying with the lace of your panties. 

"Full sentence, please," Ren replied, his smile spreading into a sharp grin as he put his hand back in his pocket and increased the buzzing, making you suppress a little shriek and clutch onto his arm tighter. "Use your words."

"Ngh..." You pressed your face into the crown of his head, the fur on his ears tickling your cheek. Your groan had been enough to alert someone’s attention, a guy with his headphones in, but he clearly didn’t think much of your distress when he looked back at his phone. "I'm...I'm going to do as you say."

"Good pet,” He then whispered, keening up on his tiptoes to kiss your cheek. “I just know you’re going to do so well.”

Watersports (Lawrence/MC)

"NGH!"

You grunted harshly as Lawrence tackled you down to the ground, forcing your back hard against the ground as their heavier body pinned you still and caged you down beneath them. 

"Shhh shh shh shh shhh...."

Though their face was flushed and a little frightened-looking (as if they had never done anything like this before), Lawrence shushed you in a quiet, almost sleepy tone, as they leaned forward, their breath shockingly cool against your skin, your cheeks, your lips. 

"Don't fight me, it's so much better if you don't fight, trust me," They asserted, still keeping their voice quiet as they sat up on their knees, keeping you pinned down with their hips and their strong arms pressing their weight into your shoulders. "This can be easy, we can make this so easy , if you don't fight."

"Fuck you," You muttered through grit teeth as you tried to wrestle up against them, trying to free yourself from their strong grip on your body.

"L-Language," They replied with a dirty look, as if you had offended them, before they swallowed hard, their Adam's apple bobbing against their pale throat, and pushed themselves to their feet, suddenly standing tall and towering above you.

Planting a bare foot right at the center of your chest and pressing most of their weight down onto it, Lawrence kept holding you down against the ground, their pale grey eyes locked on yours. Their breathing became shallow and quicker-paced as they stared at you hard, and even down on the ground, you got a sense that they were trembling, still scared of what they were capable of.

It would do you no good to fight against them or to swear at them, but you couldn't help your anger. 

"I, ah..." They started, making an attempt to sound nonchalant as they pushed their shaking fingers through their hair. "I think you should just...relax. A-And calm down, a little."

"Where do you get off telling me to fucking relax?" You demanded, your voice louder than theirs (which they clearly didn't like, from the way their eyes darted to the door of their apartment nervously) as you continued to fight against their body. "Why don't you relax and let me go, you fucking psycho!?"

" Psycho? "

Lawrence's eyes narrowed as they spoke, an expression that gave away their growing anger and annoyance. 

"Now that's just...unnecessary..." They continued to murmur, eyes flitting to the side as they pressed a little more weight into your chest and listened to the gasping wheeze you let out as a response, reaching up to grab and claw at their ankle. "You...you really don't wanna say things like that to me..."

You swallowed hard as your breath felt heavier and harder to get out of your lungs, your teeth gritting and your eyes fluttering at the pressure. 

They could have broken one of your ribs from this angle if they wanted to, quite easily in fact. 

You had to wonder why they weren't doing that yet.

"Or...or what?" You replied through your grit teeth, one eye squeezing shut as another surge of pressure was pressed into your chest, testing your luck beyond all better judgment not to.

Lawrence was quiet for a good moment, their eyes locked on yours before darting to the side nervously, their chapped bottom lip between their teeth. They were still breathing heavily and slowly. 

"I could hurt you." The pressure of their weight on your chest was more intense now, and they let out a brief, quiet growl. “I could really hurt you, and I would enjoy doing it too.”

"You're already hurting me," You replied through your tight frown.

"Am I...? Am I, really?"

Lawrence tilted their head to the side slightly, an expression that was almost mocking and teasing without intending to be (though you really had no idea of Lawrence's true intentions right now, their pale face was so blank and devoid of any true expression).

Their voice was still quiet, almost thoughtful and dreamy, but it was obvious that Lawrence no longer saw you as a person when they stared down at you with their doe wide, grey eyes.

No, you were more of an animal now, a pest to be gotten rid of, a bug to be squashed.

A plant to be plucked from the garden.

You swallowed hard and your body began to thrash when, after a long moment of quiet between the two of you, Lawrence started to tuck down their sweatpants and revealed their naked and...worryingly hard and lengthy cock, without saying a word.

Lawrence smiled, but there was no joy or light-heartedness behind their expression. It was a dead kind of smile that reminded you of a corpse, an ill-fated humour without feeling behind it, their grin refusing to touch their narrowed eyes with any degree of amusement. 

They then shifted their weight once more, easing up on your chest just slightly to focus a little more attention on prying their hefty cock from their sweatpants and holding it above your eyes. 

They were breathing heavily now, and they spoke softy but without any of the previous fear or hesitation, as if they knew now that they had complete control over you. 

And they certainly did, at least for the time being.

"You know...it's so rude of me, but I didn't offer you anything to drink."

Your eyes shot wide.

"Lawrence..." You said, your voice partway between a warning and a plea. "Don't-"

Though you were predictably cut off by a splash of disturbingly warm fluid on your face. 

Lawrence let out a low chuckle as the warm (disgustingly warm, despite how cool their breath had been on your skin before) liquid hit your face, but they said nothing about it, not even to gloat or goad when you immediately squeezed your eyes shut and jerked your head to the side with a shout. 

They only shifted their weight again, watching with a curious, albeit indulgent look as the dark yellow fluid ran down your skin, repulsive and demeaning, and stained the collar of your shirt.

"Is this what you wanted?" They asked, their tone dripping with contempt as the stream finally relented, the smell of ammonia thick and heavy in the humid air of the apartment. "Ah, I see now...you're one of those types that have to be forced to behave. Isn't that right?"

You stared up at them with a grimace, despite the dark flush to your cheeks, shaking your head to throw off the drops of fluid the best you could, cringing as you felt it cling to your skin and soak in your fucking hair, god-

"Are you going to be good?" Lawrence then asked with another condescending tilt of their head, the start of a smile growing on their face.

"Mph," You bit your lip again, peering up wearily towards them, drops of fluid still clinging to your eyelashes. "Y-Yeah...I'll be good."

"Good."

Gags (Strade/MC)

The fan blades turned slowly above your head, creaking and swaying in the hot air of the summer night, yellowing from age and dotted with little mold spots that nobody thought to take care of or attend to. 

Sort of like you. 

You were in a cheap motel, strange and far from any sense of home that you might have had, ridding you of familiarity or comfort you never thought you’d associate with his house. Strade had some business to attend to in the States (no doubt to do with the shitstains that ran the website he streamed on and revenue and royalties and whatnot) and he didn't trust you and Ren enough to be left alone together.

So, Ren stayed home and you stayed with him. You just hoped that there wouldn't be any animosity from the younger man when you came home.

If you came home. 

It had been a quiet night of pay-per-view movies and takeout pizza that left a grease stain behind on the cardboard and cheese that stuck to the roof of your mouth. It was the kind of food that you loved when you were younger, when you were a plucky college student who went out drinking with friends and strangers, and needed carbs to soak in the booze, lest it spill out of you.

But you weren't that person anymore. You didn't even know what kind of person you were.

The kind of person that let this happen to them, you guessed.

"You can't scream and you can't make any noise, or it's just going to get worse. But, I'm going to give you a fighting chance, okay? Because I'm just so fucking fond of you. "

Strade's voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he pressed the thick rubber ballgag between your teeth forcefully, like he was worried about possibly disturbing your neighbors in the other hotel rooms and calling attention to the two of you. He kept you pinned still to the bed with a heavy knee against your back, and though you thrashed and fought against him, you knew that he would ultimately win whatever brawl you had.

He always won.

The rubber tasted sour against your tongue and the leather belt, pulled tight around your head and buckled at the nape of your neck, was stiff and 'unlived in', and you guessed that he had bought it fresh that day in preparation for this.

With a low grunt, he pulled the belt one notch tighter, forcing the rubber ball deeper into your mouth and the leather to dig in uncomfortably on either side of your lips.

" Wunderschon ," He smirked as he took his knee from your back, satisfied that you didn't immediately try to move once he permitted you your freedom. "And I don't think I have to worry about you screaming now, either."

"Ughk..." You groaned into the gag, as he tangled his fingers in your hair and jerked your head upwards, forcing your eyes to meet again. While yours were no doubt hazy by your newly submissive headspace, his looked fond, almost affectionate.

"Mm, very cute," He crooned, reaching forward to press two fingers against the rubber ball and trailing the touch downwards, toying with your plush bottom lip. "I don't usually care about this kind of thing. Ropes, cuffs, it's a means to an end with me, but, ah..." He tilted his head just a touch as a thick stream of drool pooled from your parted lips, down your chin and coating his fingers with shining, wet silver. "You, meine liebe ? You're good enough to eat right now."

You let out a surprised grunt as Strade shoved you back against the bed, your head hitting the pillows and your back on the mattress, before shifting between your legs and yanking at the waistband of your jeans, not even giving himself a moment to unbutton or unzip them as he tore them down your trembling thighs and tossed them across the motel room.

A lot of things could just be done with brute force, and that was something you had come to quickly learn with Strade.

"Speaking of..." He let out a soft chuckle as he placed a large hand on your belly and used the other to yank your panties down with an equal amount of force, to the degree that you swore you heard a tear. "I think I'll do just that."

Any protests you might have said petered into desperate moans and whimpers into the thick rubber as he lowered his head and dragged his tongue over your cunt, immediately seeking the tight, warm heat of your hole as he kept you pinned still beneath him, a meal ready to be devoured, a helpless victim ready to be taken advantage of.

You didn't quite have the luxury of calling yourself helpless anymore though. 

He had taken that away from you. Just as he had taken so many things.

"Ghk-" You made another attempt to speak, though you couldn't manage much but a quiet vocalization, a helpless gurgle of pain and pleasure as you rocked your hips up against his ravenous mouth, desperately seeking his probing tongue despite how much you knew you shouldn't.

Evidently pleased by your jutting hips, he moaned deeply, running his tongue broadly across your cunt before focusing his attention on your swollen clit and pressing two thick fingers inside of you as he tongued and nipped and bit the sensitive little bud, just to hear you try to squeal and cry into the gag.

"Mm, I love all those desperate little noises," He growled, pressing a hungry kiss to your soft thigh, his teeth bruising and biting and leaving more evidence of his conquest over your body. "I might even like them a little more when you're gagged. They just sound so needy and pathetic, I can’t get enough."

Your face flushed bright red at the insult, though that only made him laugh and press another deep kiss to your cunt, worming his tongue into what little space was left around his fingers (which had taken to rubbing against a particularly sensitive spot inside of you that always drove you crazy). 

You breathed out heavily through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried desperately to chase after more touches, more of the burning hot pleasure, however bad it made you feel after the fact.

You just wanted to feel good. Was that such a bad thing?

You didn't think so.

“ Ich möchte dich verschlingen, ” He whispered hotly against your skin, biting down on your thigh again before he pulled away and pressed the hard bulge in his slacks against the warm, wet space permitted by your cunt. “ Meine fleisch, meine liebe .”

He didn't even bother pulling himself out of his slacks as he rutted against you, his lip between his teeth as he stared down at you hungrily, your flushed cheeks, your watering eyes, your parted lips drooling down your chest and making the white tank covering your chest wet and almost see through.

"God, if you could look at yourself now," He growled, pressing his face against your neck and biting down, similarly hard, on the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, the space where your collar didn’t cover. "If you could see what I turned you into ."

You whimpered helplessly, opening your eyes to tiny slits to peer up at him wearily, groaning into your gag.

"Fucking slut," He smirked, running his tongue along his teeth as he bit you, and bit you, and bit you and bit you and bit you and bit you- " MY fucking slut. There was no way I was going to leave you with Ren while I was gone...let him claim what was mine the second he had the chance to. No way."

Your eyes widened just a touch at that particular reveal, before he reached up with his free hand to grab your face roughly, his big hands squeezing your cheeks and keeping your eyes glued to his. 

"You're mine," He growled, his voice intensely serious. "Mine to hurt, to fuck, to kiss, to kill, to fucking love, however I fucking want to. Never forget that, ja?”

Maybe he had been granting you a mercy by gagging you. 

So you couldn’t admit your love as easily as he could, in spite of how much you wanted to.

You nodded helplessly, all the same, in place of an actual confession. “Good girl,” He murmured, his voice a little lower as his rutting hips slowed, just a tad. “Such a good girl, fraulein. A good girl for me. Just for me”

Lingerie/Panties (Ren/MC)

"Aw, you look so cute!"

Ren cooed excitedly, raising his hands up to his mouth to cover his beaming smile, his tail wagging up frantically behind his small body.

You grimaced tightly as you stood still in front of the young man, crossing your arms over your chest (trying not to push it forward or expose your cleavage too much) and shifting uncomfortably as you shivered in the relative warmth of his bedroom, your body barely covered by the skimpy lingerie he had given you (coerced you into).

"I almost can't bear it," He said as he bit his lip, barely suppressing a giggle as he stood forward to admire you more closely, his golden eyes gleaming. "You fill it out so well! All your curves and slopes," He tilted his head as he looked at you a little more intently. “You really look so perfect.”

"Asshole," You murmured, trying to adjust your position to make your outfit sit a little worse on your body, shifting your hips and dropping your chest so it was less obviously pressed against the... cat-shaped hole in your bralette. God, he was truly unbearable sometimes. "Where have you put my other underwear? I really don't want to walk around like this all night, when it’s so cold..."

"Mm, but you know I hate it when you're all covered up," He replied with a little pout, standing a little closer and idly toying with the intricate bows that kept the bralette pulled tightly around your chest and up your shoulders. "You don't really need to wear clothes anyway, not around me. Ha, how silly of me," He laughed softly again and leaned in even closer, running the tip of his nose against your jaw. "Pets don't wear clothes, you shouldn’t have been wearing them at all~"

"I'm not-" You squeaked, a flush to your cheeks and an uncomfortable burning in your core, trying to take a step backward before the edge of the bed hit the back of your thighs. It made you shiver again. "I'm not your pet..."

"Oh, are you really that cold, sweetie?" Ren said softly, completely ignoring your protest as his hands reached down to your full, scarred hips to idly toy with the matching bows that rested on your hips. "I'll have to keep the house extra warm for you then...although," He giggled again, reaching up with one hand to run a claw over the little, pierced nub of your nipple which was pressing up against the bralette. "I have to admit, it would be pretty cute to see you shivering all the time. See your cute little nipples hard all the time, too..."

Your face flushed in embarrassment as Ren drew closer and touched you so intimately. You knew that you should push him away, you knew you should stop all of this, you knew that...but part of you didn't want to, part of you wanted to let Ren do whatever he pleased with you. 

You didn't know when you had stopped fighting against this. You didn't know when he had broken you down so far.

Would you ever get your old self back? And did you even want it back?

"Do you like the idea of that?" Ren then asked, his voice soft and crooning and gentle as he gently pressed your body down to sit against the bed, so that he was taller than you (for once), his ears twitching and his tail wagging. "Me buying you pretty outfits and keeping you dressed up and warm and taken care of all the time?"

"Mph," You did your best to suppress a soft groan, looking down at the floor to avoid Ren's gaze. You struggled to maintain your composure, your voice trembling as you spoke up again, your anger gradually dissipating more and more when he spoke to you so sweetly, when he promised you such nice things. "Yeah...take care of me. Please."

"There we go," He purred with a triumphant little smile, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, making you flinch and whimper. "There's my good pet, giving up for me."

You swallowed hard, your eyes flitting back down to the ground as your cheeks flushed a little more, humiliated and defeated, like even your body was conceding that he had taken every sense of humanity from you, and had done it so easily, too.

You would be good, you would wear the outfits he wanted, the lacy frills, the fetishistic underwear, the costumes...you were tired of being bad.

You wanted to be good. You wanted him to be good to you.

He gave you another kiss on the cheek before reaching up to stroke your hair reassuringly.

"I'll get you something warmer to wear, hm? And then I can make you something warm for dinner." He said softly, a gentle suggestion that you knew there was no chance of arguing around.

"Mm...yeah, thank you." You nodded, glancing up with a little, submissive smile. "That sounds nice."

Bondage (All/MC)

🥀

"Keep still, I can't have you moving around like this."

Lawrence's voice was a low growl as they wound duct tape tightly around your ankles and down the backs of your feet, each movement too erratic and thoughtless for them to make sure they weren't hurting you or burning into your skin with the thick, tight tape. 

You yelped and squirmed as best you could when they pushed you onto your front, first winding the tape around your knees (thusly pinning your thighs together too) and then forcing your arms into an uncomfortable, prayer-hands position against the sloping concave of your back, before winding the tape around your wrists and palms and pinning them there, rendering you totally helpless as they kept going with their uncomfortable bondage. 

Their breathing was getting a little ragged the more they bound you, and when they pressed up against your body, tearing off a strip of tape and laying it flat against your forearm, you could feel their hard cock through their sweatpants, rocking up against your backside. 

"There...there," They murmured very softly, finally setting the duct tape down and letting their now unoccupied hands gently hold your hips, keeping you still, stopping your squirming. "That's...all I wanted to do. You understand that, right? I just..." They trailed off as their hands trailed down your hips, down your plush thighs pushed together by the bondage, down to your bound feet. "I just needed you to stop moving...drawing attention, just in case someone heard."

You took in a shaking breath against the cushion they had forced your head down into, trembling as you felt their thumbs run down the sensitive soles of your feet, quickly pulling back when they curled, when you let out a helpless whimper at their curious touches.

"Please let me go," You whined softly as their hands went back up to your hips, pressing themselves against you again, their cock still hard as they rocked your body into the bed. "Please, I promise I won't tell a soul about this."

"I know you won't," They replied, though their voice was a little more rasped and thick with pleasure when they found a warm spot against your backside, against the tight crotch of your jeans, to rock up against. "Because I'm not going to let you go. I...I don't even know what I want to do with you, but I know that much. I can't let you go, now." They draped themselves over your back then, pressing their chest against your shoulders, one hand staying on your hips as the other reached up to pull your hair away from your neck, so they could look at you. "I want you much too badly to let that happen."

You can feel your cheeks flush darkly as you squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you felt theirs press against the exposed skin of your neck in a sweet kiss, your bound body shivering and trembling as they continued to rut their hips against your ass, despite the gentleness from their trailing hands and lips.

You were trying to will it away, trying to get away from this situation, but you couldn't. And what was worse, your core was beginning to stir, responding to Lawrence's movements.

"You're beautiful," Lawrence murmured hotly against your skin, digging their shaking fingers into your hips as they tried to push harder against you, making your legs tremble and struggle to hold them up. "I...I had to have you, you know? It was like a compulsion, and I..." They attempt a weak little chuckle, nestling their nose into your hair and taking a deep inhale, smelling you. "I know it sounds crazy. I know I AM crazy, but..."

"Y-You're not crazy, Lawrence..." You stammered softly, your fists curling at the small of your back, beneath the tight duct tape. "I don't think you're crazy. Just, please, let me go and I can help you, I can get you help-"

"Ah," They cut you off as their body stilled against yours, before they let out a little breath and pulled themselves away from you. "Ah...of course you'd lie to me. I should have expected that. But...well, that's okay."

They reached over for the duct tape again, a sight that made you immediately tense up and start to struggle and squirm.

"I'm not looking for you to validate me, or validate who I am," They said softly, taking your shoulder in a strong hand and forcing you onto your back, looking at your face with dull eyes. "I know who I am. I know what I'm capable of," Their grey eyes were so blown with...arousal? Anger? You weren't sure. "But you don't know what I'm capable of, do you?"

They lowered their face close to yours, their blonde hair falling over their shoulders and tickling your burning cheeks.

A mocking smile came to their face.

"You don't know what I could do to you, how I could hurt you, how I could kill you, if I really wanted to. You don't know any of that." They murmured softly, taking another slow inhale of your scent before they sat up again, and ripped the tape away from the roll. "On second thought, I don't need you to talk. I might like you better silent, actually."

You didn't have the opportunity to argue against what they were saying before they grabbed your cheeks in a rough grip and laid the strip of tape over your lips, taking the time to wind the roll around your head a few times, catching your hair in the tight stickiness and making it all the more painful.

"That's better," They muttered softly, their voice growing even more ragged as they tore off the strip and took your cheeks in hand again, staring down at you, their gaze growing even hungrier and more flushed. "Yes, that's much better. That'll do nicely."

They smiled again, before bringing their lips down to your gagged ones, giving you a sweet kiss.

You whimpered beneath your gag, squeezing your eyes shut, the only movement you were even capable of now.

"I'll keep you like this now. Just as I want you."

🦊

Ren's hands were careful and considered as he knotted the pale pink ropes down your chest, his claws delicately catching and grazing against your skin in a way you guessed was deliberate, hungry for bloody, little wounds that marred your skin and made you his.

Having kept you in the hideously girly, pink lingerie set from the previous day, Ren wanted to make things a little more intense by presenting you with a matching, pastel pink bondage set from the top shelf of his closet, intricate, leather cuffs for your wrists and ankles, a blindfold, a ballgag, and a coil of rope to top it all off.

For now, though, your wrists were cuffed behind your back as he tied the intricate shibari tie, a tutorial on his phone screen nearby to make sure he was doing everything right. 

All things considered, Ren's dexterity and focus were pretty remarkable, as he seemed to be doing everything correctly, pulling the exact right knots into the exact right positions and making sure it didn't bite into your skin too much, still prioritising your comfort over anything else for the time being. 

"How does it feel?" He asked with a smile, his voice as mellow as ever as he took the trailing ropes in hand and gave it a little yank, making sure it was secure and the knots were taut and tight. "I've actually never tried this before...you have to tell me how it's feeling, okay?"

"Okay," You murmured softly with a quick nod, as he slowly pulled the ropes between your legs, trembling a little as he pulled them tight against the (slightly damp) gusset of your panties. The pressure against your cunt was enough to make you pull at your cuffs. "Ah, y-yeah, it's fine...it feels fine." 

His hunger was evident when he looked at your body, but you still had the impression that, though he clearly wanted to touch you, to reach out and feel you, feel the heat of your panties against the ropes, he was resisting the urge to for now, knowing that it would be disrespectful to do so while you were in such a delicate headspace.

"Hey. Don't try to escape, okay?" He warned softly, his tone chiding and matter-of-fact, like he was scolding a child and not...well, talking down what was effectively a hostage. "I'm being gentle with you for the time being, so...don't make me regret that."

"I-I'm not," You replied quickly, letting your bound wrists fall still as he shifted behind you and pulled the ropes against your cunt harder, like it was a little punishment for your indiscretion. "I'm not trying to, I won't try to...s-sorry."

"It's alright..." There was an obvious smile on Ren's face as he pulled the ropes around to your front and through the knots down your chest, pulling them taut in the pattern of a tortoiseshell (a design you recognised very quickly from the various comics and cartoons he read and watched and insisted weren't pornographic). "You're behaving now, you're being a good girl for me, and I appreciate that a lot. It's a lot more fun when you're good, isn't it?"

You nodded shyly, bashfully, swallowing a little harder as the ropes of the harness were pulled a notch tighter and fed into the quasi-collar of rope around your neck, which he quickly knotted to keep secure. 

Ren's smile grew from one of anticipation to one that was slightly more malicious and desirous as he moved back in front of you, crawling around you on his knees and staring down hungrily at the tight ropes digging into your skin, making your flesh bulge around each of the harsh lines of pale, pink rope.

"So cute..." He said softly, leaning in close, his tail wagging erratically as his ears twitched. "So pretty..." He stared at all the places where the rope had bitten into your delicate skin, relishing in the swelling and harsh redness around the knots. "You look so perfect for me like this, pet. So, so pretty and trussed up and...hah..."

You took in a shuddering gasp, raising your chin a little as he lowered his face down to the crook of your neck, almost scenting you, the tufting fur of his ears caressing your cheeks as he did so. He pressed his cheek against yours for a moment, sniffing your hair as it trailed down your shoulders, the proximity making it that much harder for him to contain himself, evident from the way he quickly straddled one of your spread thighs and began to rut down against it.

"Can I do the rest?" He mumbled hotly against your cheek, panting a little as he reached up to grope your chest through the bralette while he palmed himself. "Like, the gag and the blindfold? Can I use those...please?"

"R-Ren," You squeaked, biting your lip with a little whimper as he pressed himself against you even harder, his chest against yours, his rapid breaths hot on your skin. "I don't...I don't want you to use those things on me..."

"It'll be okay." He insisted, a little frantically. "I'll be right here looking after you, and I'll be good, I promise, I will." He pressed himself against you again, gasps against your neck, his movements slightly jerky as he rutted faster and harder, each motion almost feverish. Like he was going mad from his own desperation. "Please, please let me...I want to see it finished."

Unsure of what to say (if you could even say anything), you let out a shuddering breath, jerking your chin upwards even further and biting your lip to suppress more whimpers and cries of mercy as he continued to grope your chest and palm his cock.

"Tell me you want it," He whispered with a slightly manic edge to his voice, pressing his nose into your cheek as his tail kept wagging "Say it. Give away the power...before I take it from you. You know I will."

You swallowed hard with another little whimper.

"You've already taken it," You murmured softly, looking down towards your spread thighs, his rutting hips, as he reached for the cheap ballgag, not even bothering to wait for your reply, your consent for him to do as he wanted. "Why even give me the choice?"

"Yeah...I suppose you're right," Ren then said, his voice still surprisingly soft as he stopped rutting his hips for a moment. "I guess I just wanted to hear you say it. Feel like maybe...you wanted me like I want you." 

His softly spoken explanation was certainly counteracted as he pressed the ballgag (cheap and firm plastic, the leather already biting into your skin) against your lips roughly and slowly worked it in between your teeth as you whimpered and whined and tried to pull away from him.

"But it doesn't matter if you don't want me. Not really," He whispered, pressing his cheek against yours once again, inhaling deeply as he watched you helpless and unable to speak. "Not when I have you like this...I can pretend all I want, can't I?"

🔨

"NGH! Fucking cunt!"

You fought furiously underneath Strade's body, kicking legs and fighting fists, as he pressed both palms against your shoulders and pinned you down against the basement's cement floor with all of his weight, gritting his teeth and breathing outwards with exertion as his hair clung to his sweaty face.

You had managed to get a few punches in, probably bruising his cheek badly and bloodying up his nose as it streamed down his chin and dripped on your naked chest, which encouraged you to keep fighting, but he certainly wasn't making it easy, nor was he relenting on you in any way possible.

"Hah...I have to admit, I'm pretty impressed. Not many people put up so much of a fight however many months in!" He growled with a dirty grin, his accent especially thick, placing his palm in the middle of your chest and leaning up to wipe his bloody nose on the back of his hand before licking it clean with a dark look in his eyes down towards you. "But I really am going to need to you settle down before you do something you regret. You don't have a death wish, do you?"

"Fuck you," You spat, letting out a wheezing grunt of pain as your head fell back against the floor, your chest heaving under his weight, your lungs desperately trying to keep up with your fighting spirit. "Fuck you and fuck this fucking place, you fucking prick!"

"Hmph," He let out a huffed laugh through his nose as his brows furrowed thoughtfully. "Alright then, I'll play the way you want to." Strade then leaned back, sitting his full hips down against yours and reaching to his waist, fumbling around with his belt as if looking for something. "I'm gonna need those hands to keep still first though, okay, bud?"

"NGH!" You grimaced tightly as you attempted to punch up to his chest again, but not before he quickly grabbed your wrists in one strong hand, forcing them and your arms out straight in front of you, your shoulders straining from his strength, almost threatening to pop right out of their sockets as he forced your back off the ground with a mean pull. "FUCK, stop, STOP, they're gonna break-!"

"Ah, don't be dramatic," He said with a roll of his eyes, cuffing your wrists together tightly with a pair of metal handcuffs (where did he even get those?) and finally letting your back drop back down to the ground and letting your aching shoulders rest. "I'm not gonna break your shoulders, but those hands..."

Despite the blood still clinging to his skin, he grinned as he placed his palm against yours, admiring your trembling fingers as they curled into tight fists around the tight metal cuffs.

"I'd love to see those fingers bend backward . I wonder how far we can manage before they break ."

You shrieked again, your eyes wide and bloodshot as he held onto the thick chain of the handcuffs with one hand and grabbed the pointer finger of your right hand with the other, tilting it back, little by little, enough to get you desperately bucking and squirming underneath him. 

"Stop, stop, stop!" You pleaded, a spring of tears falling down your cheeks as the bone in your fingers started to strain. "I'm sorry, I won't fight back anymore, I won't, I promise!"

"Ah, nicht so stark jetzt , eh?" He smiled with a dark chuckle, raising a brow and tilting his head in a particularly condescending way. "Not so strong when I'm planning on breaking one of your pretty little fingers."

"Mph," You whimpered as he pulled back just a touch more, the bone in your knuckle popping against your skin painfully. "Strade, p-please, I'm sorry, I won't fight anymore, I won't..."

"You know..." He purred, his eyes softening just a touch though his smile didn't relent, even a little. "I don't think I believe you. I think I'm going to have to force you to submit to me."

With that, he pulled back your finger completely with a sickening snap , your finger breaking in his grip, an excruciatingly sharp pain shooting across your hand and down your arm, making you scream out loud.

"That's one," He said with an indulgent look, staring at your mangled finger as he took the middle finger in hand and yanked that back too. "Shall we say ' two for two '? You popped two punches at me, I get to break two of your fingers...what do you think?"

"I hate you," You mumbled with a pathetic sniffle, your breathing shaking and shuddering with sobs as you peered up towards him as tears clung to your fluttering eyelids. "I hate you so much..."

"Aw," He replied with a slight click of his tongue, tilting his head. "That's not nice to say, fraulein ...especially when I like you so much."

He yanked the second finger back forcibly with another painful snap , shooting just as much, if not more, pain through your arm. 

You screamed again, breathing heavily through your teeth, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried desperately hard to wrench your wrist from his vice-like grip. 

Strade looked down at your trembling, mangled hand, evidently satisfied, when he finally let go of your wrists and let you cradle your bound hands back to your chest with a huffed sob, a cruel smile forming on his bloody face.

"Look at how much you're trembling...you look so pathetic, liebling . And pretty hot, if I'm going to be honest." He chuckled again, wiping up his bloody nose again. "I'm enjoying this an awful lot."

He reached forward and gently brushed the sweaty hair out of your desperately flushed face, smiling broader as he did so.

"You really are adorable like this. I mean, you're in such a position to be played with, all you can do is beg for mercy. It's just so...enticing. Makes me want to do bad things to you."

You were silent as you peered up towards him, the pain still shooting down your trembling fingers and through your body. 

He had beaten any sense of fight out of you, as he so often did. 

It would have been unfair, if you weren't so fucking easy to beat down.

After a few moments of heavy silence, he reached for the chain of the handcuffs again, prying your hands away from your chest, but instead of torturing your fingers any further, he just rubbed his thumb against your palm encouragingly, gently, like he was trying to calm you down.

"I'm surprised...I thought you would be more of a challenge. But it really is quite thrilling to see you so helpless." 

Strade looked down at you and smiled mischievously, dipping his head to press a kiss to your unwounded knuckle.

"I think a night down here would do you good...remind you of your place, hm? What do you think?"

Emetophilia (Lawrence/MC)

"OH, GOD, LAW-!"

You managed a disgusted yelp, a repulsed grimace on your face as you attempted to wriggle away from Lawrence's hunched-up, still retching form, though their hold on your body stayed firm as ever as they spewed their guts out all over your naked body.

The vomit was thick and almost heavy as it weighed down on your skin, both in sensation and scent, since it smelled of beer, microwaved food, and rot, just like Lawrence always smelled. The greasy feel of it clung to your skin like slime or ectoplasm (if you could possibly know what those things felt like) and despite how still you were trying to be, it managed to drip down every sensitive area of your body and cover each of your shuddering curves. 

You cringed, looking down at your shaking stomach now painted in milky-yellow puke, trying to suppress the urge to vomit yourself.

"F-Fuck," They stammered, finally looking up towards you with an absolutely mortified expression on their face, their pale skin even paler (almost green in hue) as they reached up to cover their vomit-slicked lips with trembling fingers, looking like they were about ready to puke again. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me...I-I just couldn't hold it back, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay, Law," You mumbled with an attempt at a smile, though you were still repulsed as you looked down at yourself, as the vomit slowly made its way down your stomach and towards Lawrence's still hips. "Just...just let me up and we can clean ourselves off, okay? And then we'll take care of you, okay?"

They said nothing for a moment, swallowing hard and wiping their mouth down their chin, their bottom lip pulled down and exposing pale gums, doe-grey eyes wide and panicked, before they...began to move again, pressing themselves deeper inside of you, since they were still as hard as they had been before, for whatever reason.

It felt good, of course, it did, but that didn't get rid of the fact that you were still absolutely covered in their vomit, and the more they moved, the more it moved with you.

"Lawrence," You then said, your voice taking on a note of firmness as you glared up at them, meeting their eyes with your own. "Let me up. Now." Your voice had lost a bit of its usual edge though, and your quivering lip wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone soon.

"Ah," They gasped softly, lowering their body back against yours, their chest pressing into the broad puddle of vomit still clinging to your own. "I...I want to keep going. I'm sorry I threw up, but I...I have to keep going. You understand?"

"Don't keep going!" You nearly shouted, outraged, though they quickly covered your mouth with a broad palm (god, was that the one they wiped their puke up with, fuck-), their other hand reaching round to fist in your hair and keep you pinned still.

"Be good," They growled softly, so quietly and dangerously, lowering their head down to your level, their lips inches from yours, so close you could still smell vomit on their breath. "I'm going to keep going...so enjoy it, or don't. I don't care which." 

You swallowed hard and whimpered against their palm as they continued to thrust up into you, keeping your head still.

"Be good...be good."

Barely seconds after removing their palm from your mouth, they kissed you hard, their sour tongue immediately pressing between your lips like an invasive species, and you were forced to taste the vile, acidic remnants of bile and vomit on their lips, their tongue. 

You squirmed and wriggled underneath them, trying to shove them away, your arms against their strong shoulders and broad chest, but your refusal to acclimate to what they wanted and the way you fought back against them seemed to only excite (and annoy) them more, as they started to thrust in and out of you again, with a new kind of vigor. 

The combined sensation of the crushing kiss and their tongue in your mouth, and the aching stretch of your cunt around their monstrous cock, pushing deep, so deep you felt it nudge against your fucking cervix, made you moan involuntarily against their lips and hungry mouth. You could hear every one of their pleased sounds too, as they fucked into you harder, pressing your chests together and coating themselves in their own vomit even more, like the two of you were bathing in it. 

It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up, but you couldn’t deny how arousing it was knowing that they'd fuck you, even when you were covered in their vomit and when you smelled like shit. 

You could feel your cunt clench tight around them as the burning shame in the pit of your stomach made you moan even louder against their invasive kiss. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, and, dizzy with sickening pleasure, you allowed yourself to press your vomit slick fingers into their long hair and let them fuck you as they wanted.

It’s sick. 

They were sick. 

But you were so, so much worse for wanting it so bad that it ached.

Collars (Strade/MC)

"I have a present for you."

Strade’s voice was deceptively cheerful, almost airy in how light it was, as he approached you early in the morning, while you were still nursing a cup of coffee and a slice of wholewheat toast (he had good taste in sourdough, if you were going to give him credit for anything).

"Oh?" You glanced up cautiously, taking another long sip of coffee as you toyed with the thick crust of your toast, letting it break and fall apart on your plate. You didn’t trust that any gift from him would go well for you, not even for a minute. But you weren’t stupid enough to say that. "What's the occasion?"

"Come on now, don't play dumb," He chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle your hair and curl his fingers into it, a fist at the base of your skull, giving your head a little shake as he did so (reminding you of the number of times he’d done it before, bashed your head into cement, brick, bone). "Don't tell me you've forgotten already. It's our anniversary!"

"Anniversary?" You mumbled, swallowing thickly and setting your mug down, your face tight with a grimace as he curled his fingers tighter and tighter into your hair (threatening, always threatening, always keeping you alert and ready). "It's...it's been a year? Really?" 

"Yes, yes," He said, smiling as he brought his stubbly chin down to the crown of your hand, his free hand going down to your shoulder and rubbing his palm down your bare arm, feeling your goosebumps. It's almost a hug and it almost makes you vomit. "How time flies, eh? It feels like just yesterday I was picking you up at that seedy bar and we were spending our first night together."

You swallowed again. 

You had to, or you might have been sick.

"But I'm getting off-topic," He mumbled into your hair, his hand stilling as he held your shoulder, his fingers gripping a little tighter, digging into your skin (as he had done so many times before, you had the scars to prove it, to prove how much he liked digging into you ). "I have a gift for you, to celebrate such a happy day. Would you like it?"

"Mm..." You hummed uncomfortably, biting your lip, suddenly not hungry, and thoroughly put off the idea of finishing your breakfast. "Sure...that sounds nice."

"Good," He praised you casually, carelessly, (just as he hurt you so causally and carelessly, treating you like a toy he could throw away if he so chose to) as he let go of your shoulder (and your hair) and stepped to your side, a gift in hand wrapped in brown paper and twine. It was so normal looking, you almost laughed. "Here we are. Just for you."

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip nervously (you had bit it hard enough that it started to sting, it was the least amount of pain you’ve felt in days) as you took the little package, your hands shaking. 

You half expected it to blow up in your hands, or to start oozing blood or moving, like he had cut off a still-living limb from a new playmate that had been doomed to rot in the basement and gifted it to you, but nothing like that happened.

He waited expectantly for you to unwrap the gift, and...well, you had no reason not to.

Not really.

You untied the twine and removed the brown paper from the gift, your fingers brushing up against the cool metal that lay underneath.

It was a collar. 

Brand new and polished to pristine condition, you made note of as you pulled it from the paper, and lightweight enough in your palm that it probably wouldn't have even left the bruises on your neck and shoulders that your current one did.

"Out with the old, and in with the new," He said with an amused laugh, crossing his arms over his chest proudly while you gaped at the new collar, before taking the controller for your current collar from his trouser pocket and giving the button a quick click. 

The painful, bone-achingly sharp shock didn't emit like you had expected it to (like it had so many times before, you hadn’t even done anything wrong, he just did it when he felt like it) , instead, the tight metal clasp popped open at the nape of your neck and you felt it loosen instantly.

You gasped and reached up to grab it quickly, so it wouldn't fall, before rubbing your bruised skin with a relieved groan, feeling the slightly scabby bumps that the sharp prongs from the shock mechanism had left behind at the top of your spine.

"Now, don't tell Ren, I really can’t have him getting jealous," He said with a teasing tone to his voice, pacing back to his spot behind you and removing the old collar, setting it down on the counter (no doubt to be used on another helpless plaything, a pet he decided to claim as your replacement, who even fucking knew). "But your new collar doesn't even have a shock emitter in it, not yet. I figured, well, it's been a year now...I think I can trust you not to do anything stupid, since you've been so well-behaved up until now. Acting like such a little suck-up. It’s pretty cute!"

He didn't ask permission as he took your new collar in hand and brought it up to your neck, slipping it around your throat and clicking it into place, the new metal band a little looser around your neck than the previous one, but still just as immovable.

You barely resisted a whimper as you reached up to touch the polished metal, feeling the notch at your throat that he could use for…well, whatever he wanted (a leash, an o-ring, a tag that had your name, his address, a plea to ‘please take me home, I miss my owner!’)

If anything, this new collar laid his claim on you even more so than the last one.

The last collar, as heavy and as painful as it was, implied at least a certain degree of resistance, symbolising a painful punishment for misbehavior that must have happened frequently enough to necessitate such a brutal contraption.

This one told everyone what you were with just one look, that you were truly a spineless animal who didn't even need to be threatened with punishment anymore, because they thought so little of themselves, they didn't even try to fight back.

It told everyone that you had handed him your submission on a silver plate, and he had proved his ownership of you to be long-standing, brutal, and true.

He might have been bad, so bad, maybe even evil, but God, you were so much worse.

"Ah, it looks perfect. Not like I had any doubt," He toyed with the notch of the collar with a little smirk clear to his voice, triumphant and victorious, and no doubt imagining the things he could do with it. "You always look perfect."

"Mm," You bit your lip, eyes flitting downwards towards your old collar, unable to look back at him, unwilling to, (you might have cried if you even tried to).

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" He then asked, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear after a heavy moment of quiet, a thick finger trailing along the metal and back over the tight clasp that bolted you to him, permanently, if he decided to keep you . "I went through all the trouble of making it for you, after all…I think I deserve something in return."

"Ah...yeah," You cleared your throat and looked over your shoulder, through your thick hair (it had grown out in the year of him keeping you, he hadn’t cut it, he didn’t want to) back at him, an attempt at a weak smile on your face. "Thank you…I love it, I really do."

"You're so welcome," He purred, satisfied with your gratitude (at least for now) as he pressed another kiss to the crown of your head, humming happily against your skin as he wound his arms around your waist, pulling you tight to his body. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands trembling at your sides. 

"Happy anniversary, liebling ...let's hope we get to another year, hm?"

Overstimulation (Ren/MC)

"Ah-ah-ah-!" You gasped brokenly as your hips rutted up desperately against the wide, rumbling head of the hitachi, wielded like a weapon, something to be used against you and to cause you pain, as his other hand roughly groped your chest, his claws digging into your skin.

"Oh, those sounds are way too cuuute~" Ren cooed condescendingly, rolling your nipple (pert and pink and oh-so-sensitive from all his teasing) between his thumb and pointer finger, pressing the vibrator even harder against your cunt as he brought his face closer to yours, sharp teeth smiling as he watched you hungrily, like you were a squirming animal in his trap. "Is that what I do to you, baby? Do I make you sound all porny and desperate, hmmm?~"

"Mmph..." You squeezed your eyes shut, tugging hard at the zip-tie that kept you bound and secured the basement's support beam and biting your lip, hard enough that you might have been concerned about drawing blood (if you could even think). When he tilted the vibrator a little, rubbing the ridged side against your clit, you took in a broken gasp, your eyes shooting wide again, staring up at the swinging lightbulb behind his head like it was the only thing you had left. "Nghhh, stoooop, I can't-!"

Ren giggled a little, running his tongue over his shining, wet jaws before leaning in close, pressing his nose against your neck, taking in your scent. 

"Not yet, not just yet," He whispered as he pressed the vibrator down a little harder, listening to your hitched breaths as he dragged it up and down your weeping slit, stimulating every sensitive area you had. "You can take it, I know you can take it. Don't you want just a little more, anyway? Don't you want to make me proud? I can make you feel so much better..." He nuzzled his face against your neck then, his own breath growing ragged and his tail wagging erratically as he kept pawing at your chest. "I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, after all."

"R-Ren, please, I really can't take it," You whimpered desperately, your voice quivering as much as your body was, trying to plead to him as he stared intently at your sweaty face. "It hurts, please..."

"Oh, you poor thing..." Ren said with a pleased sigh, a condescending click of his tongue. "You should believe in yourself more. You just need the right kind of encouragement, I think..."

He stopped groping your chest for a moment to caress your cheek and push your hair away from your hot face, an intimate and gentle gesture reserved for lovers (that feels mocking when he does it), and then leaned in, planting a firm and deep-tongued kiss to your lips, sharp fangs nipping your lips and making you bleed.

Unable to fight back, you groaned helplessly, your eyelids fluttering and your body tensing up as he kissed you, the hand on your cheek pushing your head back against the support beam, pinning you still so he could take you exactly as he wanted you. 

"I just love the sound of your moans, you know," He whispered against your lips, parted and panting, a thin string of spittle connecting them and threatening to break. "And your reactions, god, they're getting me so hot... and I'm not even halfway done with you."

Not even halfway done. How on earth were you going to survive this?

Ren chuckled quietly, almost innocently, biting his lip to suppress a smile as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes on yours as he gradually turned the vibrator up a few more notches, the buzzing getting louder and so much more intense.

"God-!"

You gritted your teeth with a desperate whine, your toes curling against the cold cement floor and your legs trembling underneath him, where he was straddling you and gradually rutting his own hips down against you. 

"Please, please stop, I can't, I can't-!"

"Oh no. I don't think I'm ready to stop just yet." Ren replied with another little chuckle, his playful smile broadening further into a sharp grin, his smile lines dimpling. "After all, you are so very pretty when you're all turned on like this. When you're drooling as much as your cunt is." He giggled again, his pale cheeks flushed pink, like he was saying something especially naughty. "So many cute sounds just waiting to be made, like you're my very own personal hentai..." 

A lecherous look came to his golden eyes as he turned up the vibrator another notch.

"Let's see if we can make just a few more, shall we?"

"AHHHN!" You cried out, your back arching and your eyes squeezing shut tight, your lips trembling as he pressed even closer to you, his chest practically pressed against yours, tilting the hitachi again and rubbing the bumped ridge of it against your hard clit, stimulating where you were most sensitive and relishing in just how much it was torturing you. "MPH!"

"Ohhh, oh, baby, that's it. You're doing oh-so-well, doing such a good job for me." He whispered hotly, kissing up your neck, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick over already existing bruises. "Why don't you be a good girl for me and just let yourself feel every single little thing I can give you, hm?" He tilted his head, his ears twitching. "It's easier than resisting it, right? Easier to be honest than to keep lying to yourself that you don't adore this feeling~"

"Pleaseeee," You drawled, a viscous string of spittle trickling from your lips and down your chin, tears beading in your eyes, your forehead sweating from the effort of keeping yourself from breaking apart completely under him. "Please, please, fill me up then, make me cum, I can't take it-!"

Ren laughed out loud upon hearing your request, digging his knee into your spread thigh, painful and heavy. 

"Are you begging now? Really?" He chuckled. "I'm not sure if you're in the position to be doing that, sweetie. But, yeah, maybe I will fill you...or maybe I'll do something else." 

The vibe went up another notch. Your eyes rolled back in your skull and you were beginning to lose the ability to even make words anymore.

"And I can do so much more than this too..." He whispered, pressing his cheek against yours and staring at your face, watching as your expression gave away just how much you were getting lost in the pleasure, eyes going hazy and your mind fuzzing into fog behind it. "I can make you feel so many things... so many things you haven't felt before. I can make this last forever, if I really wanted to." He giggled softly and gave you a light peck on your trembling lips. "That's an idea, isn't it? Keeping you tied up in this basement, rutting against a vibrator, cumming your brains out day after day. Maybe I'll be kind enough to fuck you sometimes too, if you ask for it super nicely. Sometimes."

Another notch. You felt your body jerk and spasm, a puppet with cut strings, a toy moments from breaking.

You wondered how many other toys he had broken. Then wondered how you still even had enough of a brain to think about that.

"I can do a lot of things to you, and I intend to do each and every one. Just as I please."

Breathplay (Lawrence/MC)

Your breath hitched tightly in your chest, tight enough to hurt, tight enough that it made your lungs burn and throb, as the plastic bag was slipped over your head and pulled around your neck.

Taking in what very little air you could and making the plastic constrict even tighter as you did so, you fought desperately hard against the strong grip around your neck, big hands (beautiful hands, hands you admired and fantasised about) unrelenting as they held the plastic tightly, undeterred by your convulsing body, and utterly silent.

Like they were doing this just to listen to your wheezing gasps of breath, just to listen to you as you were about to die.

"HGK-!" You gasped again, your eyes rolling back into your skull (showing the milky whites and bloodshot veins) with each heaving breath, sucking plastic into your gasping mouth, reaching up with bound hands to Lawrence's wrists to try and pry them away, though to no avail. 

They just held on tighter, forcing your squirming, spasming body upright, almost on your tiptoes just to meet their height.

Your limbs felt heavier and heavier with each second, sluggish and slow like you were moving in slow motion. 

Every part of your body hurts.

You knew that one day, Lawrence was probably going to kill you but not this soon, not like this, not without giving you a fighting, fucking chance-

Eventually, probably seconds before you were about to pass out (or die), they relented and let you go, watching curiously as you fell gracelessly to the floor with a heaving gasp of air, like a fish out of water.

"God," You moaned helplessly as you tried to climb up to your knees and get away from your captor, your watering eyes tearing up and your shoulders beginning to shake with barely there sobs. "God, oh God, oh God…"

"Stop complaining," Lawrence murmured through a low (and familiar) monotone, taking a step closer towards you and pressing a socked foot to your thigh, forcing you onto your back so that they could stand over you and admire your helpless body as it shook. "It's not that bad…"

"Law, please," You whimpered through your sobs, watching with wide, terrified eyes as they palmed their hard cock through their sweatpants, the image of it long and hard at the sight of your suffering imprinted onto your mind. They had enjoyed doing this to you, it seemed. "Please, don't, I can't-"

"The human body can handle an awful lot," They continued with a slight tilt of their head, a faint flush to their cheeks as they groped themselves more. "It can survive without air for almost six minutes. Of course, after four minutes, it's at risk of serious brain damage. Ah-" They took in their own short gasp, pale grey eyes growing hazy and lustful the more they touched themselves, prying their heavy cock from their sweatpants and gripping it tight, the flushed head drooling with pre-cum already. "But that's not a problem for me. I don't mind a broken toy to look after."

"Mph," You tried to crawl backward, warm tears trailing down your face as they sank down to one knee, and then the other, caging your body down with their own, appearing so much bigger and more monstrous than they had before. "Lawrence, please..."

"Shhh," They shushed you softly, not out of a need to treat you gently or with any degree of care, but out of a desire to keep you as quiet as possible. "That was barely thirty seconds. Let's try and get you to a whole minute, hm?"

"WAIT-!"

You couldn't even begin to say anything as they pulled the plastic bag over your head again before you even had the chance to take a proper gulp of air and prepare yourself for this torture.

The second time was so much worse than the first, your lungs already on fire from their previous abuse, the plastic constricting even tighter somehow and sticking to your sweaty face as you took in panicked gasps, writhing helplessly underneath them as they kept you pinned to the ground.

It was even worse, though, now that you were able to see Lawrence looking down on you so intensely, their grey eyes narrowed and focused as their hands clenched even tighter at each side of your neck, keeping the plastic bag taut.

"Fifty...forty-nine...forty-eight," They murmured, their voice sounding like it was underwater as their hands shook, just a touch, and their hips dipped down to meet yours, rubbing the head of their cock against the (unfortunately) weeping mound of your cunt. 

Their expression gave away at how surprised they were that you were wet (because of course you were fucking wet, wet enough that it was soaking into your panties), but they didn't stop counting, nor did they stop bucking their hips against yours, providing you both with a modicum of stimulation while they were committing such an awful act.

"Thirty-seven...thirty-six..." 

Slightly crooked teeth bit down on their bottom lip, their words trailing into soft murmurs as their cheeks grew even more flushed.

You were helpless to do anything but slowly suffocate underneath them, any trace of oxygen long gone as the plastic constricted tighter and tighter, your body completely slack and dead beneath theirs, like a wilted flower that had its stem cut.

"Twenty-three...twenty-two..."

You weren't sure when you passed out, but it was probably after you felt the splatter of warm cum soaking through your panties. 

[attractedtopeoples]

Hiyya! I seen you did some stuff for jake & johnnie and I was wondering if you could do a headcanons with tarayummy x fem! reader with the opposite aesthetic as her? Maybe something like bimbo-ish? Sorry if you’re not comfortable with this, feel free to delete if you need to!

A/N: Hey oml I am so so sorry for how long this has taken, my laptop broke and I was forced into a temporary hiatus, but i hope you enjoy this (srsly so sorry)

Tara Yummy

Tags/Warnings: tara yummy x fem!reader, both sfw and nsfw headcanons, no explicit dom/sub dynamics, if you think i should add more let me know :)

sfw headcanons

you have relatively opposite styles, Tara straying to a more y2k or 2000s vibe whilst you lean into a more soft look, almost a cottagecore vibe with deep greens and greys.

both of you own a matching pair of doc martens, hers are black boot platforms and yours are black loafer styled docs. Both of them have a flower drawn on the heel by the other in sharpie.

after a while of you dating if you are willing to go public tara makes a video with you where you swap styles for the day.

if you are a more private person there are a lot of soft launch images of you guys wearing the docs and your hands in hearts.

she loves to braid or plait your hair for you, and if you're simply cuddling on the couch watching a movie of some sort it isn't uncommon for her to simply take a few strands of your hair and do mini plaits all over your head.

there are millions of photos of you and sugar together on tara's phone, whether you are sleeping on the couch or you're simply just holding him, tara has a photo.

nsfw headcanons under the cut

nsfw headcanons

loves you in a sundress, and her favourite thing is to get lost in between the fabric of your skirts and your thighs.

doesn't dislike the idea of you in between her thighs either, and loves it when your hands find their way to her waist, hands holding her tight to prevent her from squirming.

she's a switch with a preference for subbing (power bottom vibes always), but absolutely loves to tangle her fingers through your hair and tug, not really a sadistic person but loving the small rush of control she gets from it.

red lingerie. black lingerie. white lingerie.

lingerie.

you're both big fans of lingerie.

she knows exactly what to wear to rile you up every time, without fail, because damn if she doesn't look good in red.

she loves it when you loom over her, whether she's sitting and you're standing, or you have her pinned to the bed, 9 times out of 10 she'll decide to climb you like a tree wrap her arms around your neck and pull you as close as possible.

[atarathegreat]

Nikolai is Mean :(

When you met Nik, he was a gentleman. Flowers, smiles, kisses, date nights. There wasn't a day that Nikolai let you go without knowing he loved you. But he wasn't against punishing you when you were bad. Even now, when he had you at a fancy little cafe while ordering your favorite iced drink and pastry, you watched him warily.

It wasn't anything he did, no... it was something you did. On a night when Nikolai was kept out in the shop with some shady businessmen, and you couldn't get the image of him out of your mind, so you tried to relieve some of the pent-up tension. Airy breathing, closed eyes, your hand diligently working to at least attempt to mirror the way Nikolai could make you feel. But you had hardly planned on Nik catching you, his hand grasping your wrist as he calmly scolded you for doing his job.

A typical ending to that was a just punishment of either overstimulation or making you beg to release. So why was he taking you out on a date two days later with that sweet smile of his?

"You look tense, Солнце (sunshine)." Nik sipped at his hot coffee as you watched him, "You're watching me like I've set a bomb in your lap."

"I'm waiting." You mumbled, tapping the side of your cup anxiously. Nikolai knew you were waiting for whatever punishment he would dole out, and he enjoyed that you were antsy about it. Nikolai was planning something; he was always planning something. You were not about to get out of this without a punishment. Doing his job? Especially while he was on the property? There would be a punishment for going against his rules. He was simply biding his time.

"Waiting?" Nikolai leaned forward, "What are you waiting for, love?"

"My punishment."

Good answer. That wonderful smile of his was daunting when he made you look at him. "Do not worry. Your punishment will not be bad, nothing that you haven't endured before."

"This wait is the worst." The confession from your lips was the best for the sadistic Russian. There was no greater enjoyment for him than knowing that his punishment was going to work. Nikolai tapped your toe with his industrial boot, "Then perhaps this time you will learn, yeah?"

Yeah. Nikolai put your punishment in action after getting home. Patiently watching a movie with you in his lap as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, pumped his fingers in your tight hole. You had to keep your whines quiet while the movie was on, unless you wanted the punishment to last longer. No begging, that was his rule for this punishment. You would cum when Nikolai got you there, and he was far from being in a hurry, often just rubbing his fingers about your insides to feel the squishy give.

"Next time you'll keep your hands out of your pants, ja?" Nikolai chuckled.

[whump-in-the-closet]

Hi! I love your stuff!

And I don't know if this is a thing but I would love to see a sinerio where a whumper is about to torture whumpee but then finds out that whumpee is a sadist (someone who enjoys pain.)

I'm my twisted mind it's just funny that Whumpee is like:"Yes, that's the good stuff" while being attacked with a knife or a crowbar, etc.

And Whumper is just like:"Wtf just my luck, of course I chose a defective one."

LMAOOO yeah great vision anon I love this. Pretty sure someone who enjoys pain is a masochist so that's why it's tagged like that but nw I know what you meant :D

cw: masochistic whumpee with a whumper who's a dick about it and mocks them, kidnapping, ransom, beating, imprisonment, shaming, walks a fine line between crack whump and actual whump :/

The last thing Whumpee remembered was the flash of a crowbar in the corner of their vision.

Whumpee blinked groggily. They tried to rub their eyes but their hands were tied behind their back and all they could manage was a twitch. Their limbs spasmed beneath them.

They had been thrown with little ceremony into a small, dark room. It smelled of rot and faintly of iron. A light fixture hung from the ceiling and swang lazily back and forth, scattering Whumpee's thoughts with it.

Whumpee caught a glimpse of metal on the walls surrounding them. They swallowed, something tightening inside them.

Their eyes darted back and forth, assessing the vast array of knives and-- oh fuck was that a whip?--

Above them, a door creaked open. The sound of heavy boots on the stairs echoed against the stones.

Whumpee stiffened as their captor entered.

A tall man, with bright eyes and broad shoulders, paused on the final step-- probably for some fucking dramatic entrance, thought Whumpee-- and smiled.

He wore a red and black flannel, which gave him a distinctive lumberjack-esque appearance. As if he ate eggs and bacon every morning and liked it.

Whumpee was far more interested in the crowbar Whumper dexterously swung with a calloused hand.

Whumpee watched the dull metal flick back and forth with a fascinated expression. Oh.

Whumper approached them. He spoke in a confident stride. "I'll make this simple. I'd like twenty-thousand dollars delivered by the end of the week and you get to keep your teeth." He towered over Whumpee and smiled. "Most of them."

Whumpee glanced up, open-mouthed. The fluorescent lighting threw a halo around Whumper's face, making his features angular and disjointed. They were momentarily crushed by the reality they were facing. "Twenty-thousand? I- I don't have that kind of money. I work at a-- at a coffee shop."

Whumper hefted the crowbar, weighing it in his hands. "But your brother does."

Whumpee felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over them. "We don't talk," they shot back.

"Okay, okay, right," said Whumper in a conversational tone. "No worries."

Whumpee exhaled. This didn't seem so bad.

"But maybe this," Whumper raised the crowbar, "Will convince you otherwise."

Too soon.

Whumper hit low, the metal slamming into Whumpee's ribcage. There was a visceral thud and a rush of air.

Whumpee saw stars.

Oh.

Fuck.

They closed their eyes against the roaring in the back of their head. Bright, rapid colors flashed behind their eyes. They inhaled slowly, enjoying the heated rush of throbbing pain. "Oh-"

Whumper hesitated.

Whumpee tilted their head back to look up at Whumper. "Don't stop," they managed-- almost pleading-- "That was so good."

Whumper stepped back, looking at Whumpee with a realization that quickly turned into frustration. "You...you're sick."

"Sorry-- sorry," said Whumpee. "Just-- c'mon, hit me again."

Whumper threw the crowbar away. It rattled against the tiles. "No fucking way." He looked genuinely upset. "Of course, you're into this shit."

Whumpee scooched back into the wall, arms and ankles still tied together, and leaned against it. Their face was bright red. "Sorry about that." Effortlessly polite in a way customer service had forced them to be.

Whumper scowled. "Just my luck in choosing the defective one," he muttered. He pointed at Whumpee with a chipped finger. "Don't think you're getting out of the ransom because of this."

Whumpee sighed. "Shame."

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #34

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: torture, past noncon, waterboarding, broken bones

It was some sort of sick game.

Or at least, [REDACTED] hoped it was a game. It certainly didn’t feel like one, but if he could fool himself into thinking it, there was still hope.

“Please, sir-”

Lord Dael kicked him again, knocking the breath out of him. “Stop-” he gasped, and the boot came down to slam his head into the stone.

The room swirled, and he felt bile and blood in his mouth.

“Don’t tell me to stop,” Lord Dael snarled. “Don’t ever tell me to stop. Got it?” His heel dug into [REDACTED]’s temple, and the pressure made his head throb. 

“I got it! I got it, sir, please-”

The boot lifted from his head, and [REDACTED] curled into himself. He didn’t dare cover his head. Defending himself only made Dael get more sadistic. 

Dael loomed over him, and [REDACTED] couldn’t bear to look at him. He focused on the shadow cast on the floor.

“I don’t think I like ‘sir’ anymore,” Dael said, stroking his face. [REDACTED] screwed his eyes shut, shuddering. He didn’t like him like this; it meant he’d be fucked again-

“You’re going to call me ‘Master’,” he continued, patting his cheek, and [REDACTED] nodded.

“Yes, Master,” he breathed out.

As long as Master was happy, it didn’t hurt so much.

___________________

“You deserve this,” Dael said, taking a swig of wine.

[REDACTED] cried, his arms and shoulders burning with every movement. 

Master had strung him up by the wrists, left him dangling on his tiptoes, and grabbed a bullwhip.

“Say it,” Lord Dael commanded. He cracked the whip in the air next to [REDACTED], and he jumped.

“I- I deserve this.”

“You deserve this, what?” The whip came down on his back, and [REDACTED] screamed as the fire ripped up his back for the dozenth time.

“I deserve this, Master!” he cried out. The whip cracked through the air again, and [REDACTED] wailed.

It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. He didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this.

“You should be thanking me,” Master said, pausing to drink more wine. “I’m teaching you your place. Your purpose.”

The whip came down on his back before he could answer, and hot wet blood dripped down his skin.

He gasped for air. “Th-thank you, Master,” he shuddered.

“Again.” The whip slashed into him-

“Thank you, Master!”

Thank you thank you thank you-

___________________

The month was almost up, and [REDACTED] had never looked forward to something more.

He had a plan: get the money, and get out. He’d go to the doctor first, as his wounds were too much to bear. 

Then, he’d pick up his sister. Surely she was at the Emry temple, and he’d give her the biggest hug and apology he could manage.

[REDACTED] licked his dry, cracked lips. He couldn’t really explain what happened- it was too awful for her- but hopefully she would understand, especially with all the money he’d be paid.

The money. It must be a lot; a whole month of wages and maybe more because of… He cut the thought off. He shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t irritate his sore ass.

It would be enough to pay bills, get her new shoes, clothes.

Her birthday was in two weeks. She’d be nine, and there would be enough money for a proper present, unlike the past few years. He knew she wanted a sketchbook and some fancy colored pencils. He could swing that. 

Birthdays were important, after all. Especially nine. “Almost double digits!” she had told him proudly. 

Maybe there would even be enough for cake.

[REDACTED] closed his eyes, and dreamed of sweets and shiny wrapped boxes.

___________________

Richard opened the cell door, metal rod in hand. He wasn’t sure what the steel was originally for, but it was the perfect weight and length to teach his slave a lesson.

The slave cracked his eyes open, his nose and mouth covered in dried blood and cum.

“Morning,” Richard smiled at him. The slave sat up partially, still leaning on his arm.

His eyes dropped to the steel in his hand, and he looked devastated.

It was a good look on him.

“The- the month is over, Master,” he whimpered.

Richard blinked. “You actually believed me?” he asked, incredulous.

The boy’s eyes went wide. He actually thought-

Richard laughed. It was just too good.

The slave slowly stood, shakily sliding up the wall.

“You- you said-”

“I lied, moron,” Richard mocked, advancing on him.

The boy looked at the door and back to him, and surely he wasn’t that dumb-

The kid ran towards the doorway.

Richard grabbed his arm, flinging him back to the ground. The boy sprawled onto his hands and knees.

“You stupid bitch-” Richard spat, kicking him onto his side.

“Don’t-” gasped out the slave, and Richard’s vision went red.

“What did I say about telling me what to do?!” 

He brought down the steel rod, over and over, and the crying and shouting was nearly background noise to the buzz of anger in his ears.

Until he heard a sickening crunch.

The boy wailed, clutching his leg.

“You broke it!” he screamed. “My leg! You- you broke it-”

Richard felt nauseous. The limb was streaming blood, and it looked so wrong. A bone shard peeked out of the skin, and his stomach twisted.

The slave began to weep, and it was too much.

He turned, slamming the door locked behind him.

Richard leaned against the stone door, scrubbing his face. Gods, that was gross. He tasted bile and it was all that damn slave’s fault. 

He flung the metal down the hall. Ew. Even his hands had blood on them.

Richard went to wash up, and a cleaning bucket near the sink gave him an idea.

___________________

He sobbed through the pain. It was one of the worst things he’d ever felt, and with a broken leg-

Master wasn’t going to let him go. 

His brain stuttered. He was going to stay here forever. 

Everything went fuzzy. The pain felt far away, and he couldn’t breathe-

The door slammed open again and it all rushed back to him.

No- No more-

Master lugged a bucket inside, water sloshing at its sides. He dropped the bucket, and drops splashed out.

[REDACTED] braced himself.

Master grabbed his hair and began to drag him towards the water.

[REDACTED] screamed, shards of agony shooting up his useless leg as it scraped against the stone.

“Shut up,” Master hissed. Then his face twisted into a smile. “Take a deep breath,” he advised.

And then he plunged [REDACTED]’s head into the water.

It was freezing. [REDACTED] held his breath, twisting and fighting the grip. But Master didn’t let up-

He was almost out of air when Master pulled him out. He sucked in a breath, and he was back under.

And again, and again-

[REDACTED] scrabbled at Master’s hands, desperate for air. Master kicked his broken leg, and bubbles flew as he screamed into the water.

He choked and breathed in water and then-

Master yanked him out, letting him fall to the floor. [REDACTED] coughed up water, his lungs stinging and burning.

“I’m sorry-” he begged. “Please, Master, I’m so sorry-”

“Quiet.”

[REDACTED]’s jaw snapped shut. He trembled and shivered, which only made his leg worse.

Master stood looking at him. Then he turned and left, the door locking behind him.

[REDACTED] fully collapsed on the stone and just… breathed.

It was all he could do. He was thirsty and starving and dirty, but getting to the water in the bucket felt impossible.

It all felt impossible.

It was impossible. 

[REDACTED] breathed out, closed his eyes and tried not to cry even more.

Why why why-

There was only one answer. Only one thing made sense.

I deserve this.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @cepheusgalaxy @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump

@hellodecisionparalysis @otterfrost @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @risk606 @i-walk-on-the-dark-side

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @haipasa

[nyctophiliq]

— 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 (i’m never alone)

— “i can’t sleep no more, in my head we belong”

SYNOPSIS — didn’t your parents tell you to never leave the doors or windows open? PAIRINGS — home invader! ellie williams x f!reader NOTES — DARK CONTENT, dub-con, masochist reader , sadist ellie, pre-established relationship, violence, blood, knives, threats, threats with a knife, injuries, making out, blood tasting, reader is tied and knocked out, ellie eats reader out,

“YOU NEVER LOCK YOUR WINDOWS, PRETTY GIRL.”

it was rather late into the night when you walked down the stairs, shivering even in your thickest zip-up hoodie, but maybe it was the shorts you were wearing that still let the cool air travel across your body and form goosebumps of cold along your skin. you hurried down to look around, hugging yourself as you did so, sliding from room to room in your white socks as you scouted for the open window.

you were confused, why was a window open anyway? last time you checked you closed all of them before going up, even turning the little lock shut that was inside. you were convinced you shut all of them, but to your surprise the kitchen one, above the sink was wide open, letting the night’s freezing wind turn the house into an ice hut. 

the dim lights weren’t giving you too much of a helping hand, not even that small light above the counter. you don’t notice the presence lurking in the shadows while you sigh, jumping up and down on your tip toes, trying to reach the window and pull the frame shut. or how the shadowy presence seems to watch your every move, calculating, making sure to make itself known at just the right time.

you do notice it, though, when you find yourself being pushed down onto the floor, heavy combat boots crushing your ribs as the figure leans down. your eyes widen, panicked, as you try to escape from the stranger’s grasp but it’s too strong and you are stuck in place. they are much stronger than you are. it shakes its head, ruffling its short hair before whispering something inaudible, and its hand collides with your face, knocking you cold only in one hit.

when you came to, the first thing you feel is the tingling feeling running up and down your bare thigh, circling your kneecap before taking a quick downfall, following the curve of your calf before climbing back up to your thigh, now grazing the plush part. the cold objects start to sink into your skin, poking you multiple times like it was trying to slowly drain you from blood, and your hazy vision and the bright spots suddenly clear and you see her.

“e-ellie, what are you doing? let m-me go!” you are quick to panic when you see the knife in her hand alongside all your other knives neatly placed on the counter, going from smallest to largest. you wriggle in your place, struggling against the ropes that were wrapped around your wrists and ankles, binding you into a chair.

“fucking stop wriggling around you stupid bitch.” she grits her teeth before sinking the knife into your thigh. you let out a scream, your head falling back while your knuckles turn white as they grip the armrest of the chair. blood messily drools from the wound as ellie leans closer to you, inhaling your scent, moving the knife side to side in your wound before biting down on the shell of your ear. “now you have something to whine and move around for ungrateful bitch.”

“i’m sorry, i’m s-sorry…” you cry, shaking your head and clutching your eyes as you bask in the heat of your body because of the pain. it’s suffocating, your head spinning alongside the room as you take a glance at the knife in you and another fit of whines leaves you.

ellie scoffs at the pathetic little whines and sobs you are letting out, the sight of your blood trickling and your cries are not enough. so she drops to her knees, on the left then the right slowly, pulling the knife out of your leg and tossing it behind the chair, her other hand already looking for a new one to hold in her grasp.

you are too scared to say anything now, just muffled sounds of distress leave you as she tries to part your knees, trying to fit both her head, hand, and the knife between your thighs. “i own you and i’m gonna make sure you can never pretend otherwise, m’kay?” ellie murmurs when she finally lines up with the plush of your thigh, without hesitation starting to engrave her name into your name. she is messy, definitely making a lot more cuts of her name than necessary and it makes you wanna vomit when you figure out she is adding a little bloody heart onto the ‘i’ in her name.

this has to be a maniac’s hopes and dreams, the way she is so focused on cutting her name into you, her mouth agape and her tongue out as if she is ready to lick away the blood that gets in her way to complete her signature on you. you swallow thickly, her head between your legs… your mind has to be sick to be turned on right now at the sight in front of you, watching her as she uses you to her psycho fantasies. with each cut, be it smaller or larger, you can feel your heat trickling and you don’t even have panties on… how embarrassing this is?

“what do we have here, huh?” it’s barely visible, but it’s there, a small wet patch of your shorts. you thought it would take her a little more time to notice, or not even notice it at all, but mostly you believed you could hold it back just until she stops groping and cutting your thighs. 

ellie takes one last glance at the inside of your thigh, moving her thumb over the red skin before standing up. “you’re just as sick as i am.” she laughs through her teeth while she takes your chin in her grip. ellie’s blown pupils gape at your erratically moving ones, her heavy breathing stealing the oxygen away from you.

lips trembling, thighs shaking as she drags the tip of the knife up your neck, dragging it along your jawline before tapping it against your lips a few times. “open up and stuck your tongue out for me bitch.” her eyes are no longer watching your eyes, rather are fixed on the knife as she slowly pushes it into your mouth.

“what did i just say?” she screams into your face, her free hand coming up to slap you before roughly holding your head in place by pulling your hair into a tight fist. she didn’t think you would dare try anything funny, to ruin your alone time with her the one she is gifting you. she is disappointed, she knew she had to be careful when it came to you but she didn’t think she would have to do this to get you to agree. “do as i say now and open your mouth you cunt.”

another heavy gulp goes down your throat, huffing as you part your lips wide and stick your tongue out for her. ellie carefully places the knife onto your tongue, her face lighting up as she runs it across, slicing it here and there. “this has to be the sluttiest thing you have ever done, right?” ellie asks with a wide grin, for a second taking her eyes off of the blade that leaving small cuts that leave your blood on the knife.

“mouth wide open, ready to do anything i ask because you are so excited to be this scared.” she looks high and sleepy at the same time as she struggles to hold her head upright, continuously licking her lips as her own mouth is ajar. ellie pulls the knife away from

she doesn’t even flinch as she cut her own tongue, slowly licking the bloody knife clean. she maintains eye contact, unblinkingly staring at your teary eyes as she doesn’t let a drip of blood go to waste. it feels like hours as she toys with herself before throwing the blade away, 

“i didn’t mean it when i called you those rude names, ‘kay?” she holds your cheeks softly, looking for your gaze as she strokes the bone under your eye with her thumb. she is at her peak, watching your teary eyes, feeling your hot skin and smelling your blood, she is going into overdrive. “i love you, mhm. i do, so much so.” she sounded like she really did mean it as she said it to you and only you, as if she doesn’t see you for anything else than a person to love. but it’s not true, she is fooling you and you are falling for every sick word of hers.

and then she slots her mouth over yours in an unexpected kiss that sends fire racing through ellie’s veins. for a while you are just a shocked, passive recipient, parting your mouth when ellie probes at the seem of your lips with an angry, insistent tongue, tiling your head back as she forces herself on you. but then she threads a hand through your hair, gently running her fingers across your scalp and you can’t help but let her kiss you, clashing her teeth against yours. the sounds you made were nice, they were so cute. pretty, soft little noises, not quite sighs and not quite grunts, kind of somewhere in between. you are tasting each other’s metallic blood mixed with harsh spit globs from ellie and drool from you.

it’s sloppy, the mess covering both of your chins and while you wince here and there when ellie’s tongue catches onto one of the cuts on your tongue, she seems to be lost in the sensation.

“i’m gonna undo these now okay? promise me you won’t run.” ellie asks and you can’t say no to her, mostly because of the knife she is reaching for and slipping it under the rope. you nod your head, a little too enthusiastically which makes ellie chuckle. “good girl....” she trails off, her eyes now fixed on the knots around your wrists, with one clean cut at your hands are free and as you rub the red marks of your hand she frees your ankles too.

ellie helps you up, giggling like a little kid but she really is a maniac as she drags you out of the kitchen and into the living room. “you’d be in so much trouble right now if it wasn’t me who snuck in.” she hoots into your ear, tugging you along on her side onto the couch. she manhandles you, tossing you around and positioning you as she pleased.

“but lucky it was me, yeah? i saved you.” ellie prouds herself as she gets on top of you, moving some hair out of your face as she tries to take you in. you were sweaty, glowing as your chest heaved, the red stamp of her hand now visible on your cheek. “i deserve a reward for it.” you agree, nodding as you reach out her belt and try to undo it with your weak fingers.

“no, not me. i am fucking you with my tongue, pretty girl.” she says, pushing your hands away from her pants before gripping your shorts and tearing them away from around your waist and hips.

she spanks you, spreading your slick all over your quivering cunt, pinching your puffy clit, and grinning stupidly when a loud moan leaves your throat. without a word or a smart comment about you not wearing any panties, she moved her face in front of your sloppy entrance. she inhaled the intoxicating smell of your arousal, caressing your the top of your thighs before latching her mouth on your bundle of nerves.

ellie doesn’t give you too much, prodding you, alternating between kisses and kitten licks before sucking harshly on your bundle of nerves. your legs twitch, trying to close around her face but her hands work quicker than you can, feeling up the already drying blood of her name carved into your skin, the pain of her grip keeping you from closing them.

“such a pretty pussy for me to devour.” as soon as she finishes speaking, her mouth is back on you, her tongue resting firmly against your aching clit before pushing her tongue into your sopping hole. ellie’s hot tongue flattening against your warm walls, peering up at you through her lashes. you are lovely, hot, and virtually stupid with need and as presses her in further the more of you drip out. you are so so sweet, the salty blood dripping from her tongue mixing in with your hot arousal.

if she wasn’t fucking into you she would be smirking. you were just so cute squirming against her wet tongue, hands undecidedly tugging at the edge of your shirt, trying to figure out whether to push her away or pull her closer. your cries make her even more excited, lapping your cum up as fast as she could, her hands slipping up to your hips to give her a better angle to eat you whole.

there is no way you could be having any thoughts now, the way you mindlessly roll your hips against her face as her tongue fucks you to your climax. high pitched hums escape you as you close your eyes, your breathing frantic as you tighten around her tongue and without even being able to understand or warn her, you come on ellie’s lips.

“you taste so good, almost as good as your blood.”

[mistysimpingandspam]

We’ll Meet Again (Poly!Yandere!Lost Boys x Reader) PART 2

plot: the forced turning of the reader.

WARNINGS: yandere stuff, mostly david centered so this one is for the david gals, forced turning, forced eating/drinking of blood, self-induced vomiting, i get kinda descriptive w it for some reason LMAO i apologize, david is fucking SADISTIC on this one, like i made him scary, stockholm syndrome

Your head felt as if it were full of lead as you slowly opened your eyes. The damp smell that lingered in the air was all too familiar, and the realization sent a shock of panic through you.

You were back in the cave.

“Oh, fuck…” You whispered quietly, tears welling up in your eyes. Your breathing quickened and you frantically checked your surroundings, only to be met with the walls of the secluded area of the cave.

The fear in your system quickly became overwhelmed with rage. All of the effort you put into escaping ended up being all for nothing. You yelled out in anger, hot tears streaming down your face.

Footsteps approached, and you knew who it was. You didn’t need to guess. As they entered the room, you turned your back, refusing to look at them.

“They’re awake!” Paul’s happy-go-lucky voice rang out, and you felt as though you were going to be sick. His voice always brought butterflies to your stomach, and, regrettably, you felt them as he called out in excitement. Holding your ground, you glued your eyes to the wall, not blinking.

“Baby…” Marko spoke next in a sing-song voice. You pictured his beautifully sculpted face hitting you with that signature smirk, and your heartbeat increased a bit. Your eyes traveled to the corner of the room, where you saw a beautiful canvas painting of yourself leaning against the wall. Marko had gifted it to you as a way to try to make peace. In the beginning, you rejected it, but in this dark room alone, you’d found yourself spending a good amount of time staring at the beautiful details. He always made the eyes so realistic, like they were following you…

A hand on your shoulder made you jolt. Wiping your tears away with your sleeve, you quickly looked over your shoulder to see who it was. Dwayne. Your eyes focused back on the wall, and you felt his hand give a soft squeeze. You knew he was trying to be sympathetic in his own way, but you still shrugged him off, curling in on yourself.

“Get out.” You spoke quietly. “All of you. I don’t want to see any of your faces, unless you’re here to let me go. Are you?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. Now get the fuck out.”

“Don’t speak to us that way.” The sound of heavy boots got closer, and you felt your stomach drop. David walked around you to where you were facing, and your gaze dropped the second he came into view, now staring at your lap. A leather clad hand roughly grabbed your face, forcing your chin up. “Look at me.” With a shaky breath, your eyes met his and unintentionally shuddered. How could you not with eyes like his?

You don’t know where it came from, but a pang of defiance ran through you, and without thinking, you gathered up a mouthful of saliva and spat directly at the vampire, hitting him just below the left eye.

The silence that followed was deafening. It seemed like the entire room was holding its breath. David’s expression didn’t change as his other hand wiped the spit away.

“I guess we’ll be doing this the hard way.” His tone had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. David’s blue eyes looked over your shoulder to where the blondes were standing. “Marko, get the bottle.”

Those four words hit you as if you were struck by lightning. Instantly, you turned to get up and run, but David was too quick. He pulled you off the ground and slammed your back against the wall so hard you were scared he’d knocked the wind out of you. You were pinned against the wall by your throat, completely trapped.

“NO!” You shrieked as you saw Marko retreat back into the cave. “PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T!”

Paul and Dwayne looked over at each other. Your cries were excruciating to hear. But, in the end, they knew what had to be done in order for you to be their mate.

Marko made his reappearance, the intricate glass bottle in his hands. Your eyes fell on it, and a feeling of utter hopelessness ran through you. David gestured with his other hand to the boy, and the blonde approached the group leader.

“Marko, please…” You begged, shaking in fear. “Don’t…” He looked over at you, and you saw it. The hesitation. He saw how scared you were, and, to your horror, the brief look of sympathy was quickly replaced with an evil sneer. Marko flipped the top open, and handed it to David.

“GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!” You screamed at him, flailing as hard as you could against David’s grip. “FUCK YOU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? YOU SON OF A-”

The opening of the bottle was pushed past your lips, the glass uncomfortably clinking against your teeth as you thrashed. Instantly, the bitter, metallic taste of blood hit your tastebuds and you sputtered, accidentally dribbling blood down the corners of your mouth. David’s eyes bored into yours as you drank. You felt like you were drowning with the liquid being forced down your throat, and tears fell in fat drops as you tried to breathe through your nose.

After a few seconds, David pulled the bottle from your mouth, lightly catching some of the blood that had escaped with the rim of the glass. You glared at him with all of the anger you could feel, not breaking eye contact.

It all happened in slow motion. Thinking fast, you managed to lift your leg and land a blow to his shin. The grip on your throat released quickly, and you saw behind David that Paul and Dwayne were quick to cross the room behind David to get to you, Marko closing in on your right. Your eyes fell to the blonde closest to you, and you quickly stuck your palm out, stiff-arming him right in the sternum to hold him off. Your right wrist screamed with pain from the sudden blow, and you curled down in on yourself. With a prayer to some deity above that the boys wouldn’t kill you for your next action, you stuck your left index, middle, and ring fingers down your throat, hitting your gag reflex. In an instant, you felt the bile crawl up your throat and you fell onto your already aching wrist for support as you vomited all over your fingers, David’s shiny black boots and the floor around him and in front of you.

You felt a grip on your hair that put everything back into normal speed, and you only triggered your gag reflex with more intensity, the diner meal you’d eaten combined with the blood you’d just ingested spilling on your already filthy hand and down the front of your shirt. Your hand was harshly ripped from your mouth, vomit dripping off of it as your arms were forced behind your back. Seeing that Marko, David, and Paul stood in front of you, you knew that Dwayne was the one holding you still.

The boys that were visible all had expressions of varying anger and disgust. Paul looked ready to retch himself, Marko was rubbing the center of his chest with a glare on his face, and David…

Pure. Fury.

He’d changed into his vampire form, his haunting yellow eyes looking ready to rip your head off. Your anger made you bold as you tilted your chin up and you stared him down, refusing to blink. Despite his terrifying appearance, David’s tone was calm, cool, and collected.

“You really think we’d let you get away with that?”

Your blood turned to ice. It was the same tone he’d used right before knocking you out and abducting you. Despite the disgusting aftertaste in your mouth, you swallowed in fear. Maintaining eye contact, you tried to pull your arms out of Dwayne’s hold, but his grip was like iron. Your breathing became shaky as David took a step forward.

“Pull something like that again, or resist in any way, and I’ll have Dwayne snap your arms like fucking twigs.” David’s gaze went to the brunet’s behind you. “Maybe do one, just to teach them a lesson.”

To your surprise, Dwayne, who’s usually the peacemaker of the group, adjusted one of his hands right around your elbow, ready to follow through with David’s request. Your eyes became the size of dinner plates and you instinctively shrieked in fear.

“Or…” David seemed to completely ignore your cries, and Dwayne halted his actions. “We can REALLY make sure you never leave.” David reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out the switchblade you’d bought before getting on the train. “(Y/n), did you know the Achilles tendon is a very important part of the body? It’s a big part in helping you do things like walk, run, all sorts of stuff.” Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears as he dragged the flat of the blade against your cheek. “Would be a shame if it were slashed… It sounds like it would be dreadfully painful to experience. Excruciating, even.”

He still maintained that calm voice, despite his words, chilling you to the bone. Despite trembling from head to toe, you held your ground.

“I’ll give you one last chance.” David said. “Fight back, and I won’t hesitate to slit your Achillies tendons. Both of them.” Your nostrils flared as you exhaled. “Will you comply?” With an internal sigh of defeat, you nodded.

With that, the two blondes closed in on either side of you, all four of them standing around you. David gripped your chin and tilted your head up, pouring the blood down your throat. It took everything in you not to cry again. You didn’t want your fear to show. Paul must’ve read your mind, and he brought his hand up to run through your hair as you drank.

At last, David pulled the bottle away, and before you could spit out the blood, he clamped a hand over your nose to ensure that you swallowed. The rest of the guys cheered quietly. David let your nose go and caressed your cheek.

“You’re nearly there.” He said. “After your first kill, you’ll fully be one of us.”

•

•

•

OOOO IM THINKIN A PART THREE WHERE READER GETS THEIR FIRST KILL, AND MAYBE EVEN A PART FOUR W SMUT ? ¿ idk i’m getting too ahead of myself-

[punkassfrance]

Wolf Material - Abby x Reader (Drabble, Kinktober Day 3 - Boot Worship)

MDNI, 18+ ONLY Abby usually leaves the initiation to the higher-ups. One of the new recruits catches her eye, and she decides she needs to make sure they're WLF material. This work contains boot licking (the fun kind), hazing, bullying if you want to look at it that way, mild dom/sub, and sexual tension. No actual sex.

My first time writing for Abby! I've gained an appreciation...but most of the month will be Joel and Tess lol. Enjoy Abby psychologically tormenting reader for a bit! Thanks to @djarrex for the Halloween divider!

“Come on, rookie.” Abby smirks, far too amused by the situation, leaning back on her bed. Her foot sticks out, rocking back and forth on the heel of a thick boot.

“I don’t…this isn’t an actual initiation thing, is it?” You stutter, looking down at the floor between you and her black combat boot.

She bites the inside of her cheek, looking to the door to her room for a moment before looking back at you. “Call it a hazing. Come on, you’re not gonna chicken out on me, are you? Takes a lot of guts to join the WLF. Pretty pathetic to draw the line here.”

It’s a long few seconds of internal debate. Dark blue eyes are on you, you can feel them, but you can’t look away from the canvas elephant in the room.

“You don’t want me telling everyone the rookie’s a chicken, do you? Gotta be brave to be one of us.” She knows what she’s doing, damnit. There’s no way she does something this sadistic to every new recruit. No, she must have pegged you the second she saw you. She saw your eyes trailing over her biceps, she noticed when you stared at her lips as she gave you a tour of the compound. Clearly, she’s teasing you. This is just a cruel prank to play on someone with a crush.

Either that, or she’s just kinky.

You look up to her eyes, hesitating for a moment before sinking to your knees.

“There you go.” She sits up, arms coming up to brace against the frame of the bunk bed. “Rest comes naturally.”

As you stare down at her boot, imposing, threatening, she leans in. You’re wondering if this is worth losing your dignity over, but the thought dissolves as her fingers lift your chin to meet her eye.

“You know what else is important if you wanna be a wolf?”

You don’t dare break eye contact. She’s demanded it from you, and you’re not willing to deny her. Swallowing hard, you shake your head.

She grabs your hair, keeping a gentle hold on the roots and guiding your face down to her boot.

“Humility.”

You gasp, now inches away from her shoelaces. She’ll force you down, but you have to take the last step.

“How are you gonna be a good soldier for the WLF if you can’t even be good for me? Come on-” she purrs. “...show me you can submit.”

Steeling yourself, you take a quick, shuddering breath.

You want to do this. She wants you to do this. What’s left?

Slowly, like she’ll kick if you startle her, you lick a thick stripe up the toe of her boot. It’s clean, thankfully, if a bit dusty- you barely register it. If you focus, you think you can hear a barely audible moan from Abby. She covers it with a sigh, letting go of your hair.

“Was that so hard?”

You’re busy staring into the pattern of her canvas boot, struggling to breathe, when she takes a fistful of your shirt collar and hauls you up to her level.

“Welcome to the WLF, rookie.”

Hope you liked it! I might write more for Abby in the future- I just loved the idea of punk-ish Abby with scary boots c: Check out my about me, masterlist, or my AO3!

[kinascum]

STUPID LAMB ⋆ ˚｡⋆

feyd-rautha x captive!reader

wc: 4.9k | summary: each brutal encounter leaves you craving more, trapped in his twisted game of dominance. | nav ♡ taglist

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. noncon/dubcon. captivity/imprisonment. weapon use. substance use/drugging (not described but come on, it's the harkonnens, babe). murder/death (mentions "the attack," which is just an attack on the hkns, where most are defeated resulting in their death). blood/gore. mental health issues (or just a warning for feyd atp). sexual exploitation. forced nudity. BDSM (non-consensual).

A/N: first fic kinda nervous >.<

You're sitting in a cold, dimly lit room, the stench of fear thick in the air. The walls seem to close in around you as the echoes of distant screams reach your ears. Your heart races as you await the inevitable. The door creaks open, and in strides a figure that sends shivers down your spine—Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, his bald head gleaming under the flickering light, his eyes piercing into the depths of your soul. The very essence of his presence is a declaration of malice and dominance.

He towers over you, his booted footsteps echoing ominously on the metal floor. His handsome yet twisted face contorts into a sneer as he takes in your trembling form. You're a mere pawn in his grand scheme, a piece of information to be squeezed until you burst. But there's something else in his gaze—a hunger, a craving that makes your stomach churn and your nether regions clench in a mix of dread and unwelcome arousal.

Feyd leans in, his breath hot and minty against your face. "So, you're the one they say survived the attack," he rasps, his voice a deadly caress. His eyes rove over your body, noting every detail, every tremble. "I've got a few questions for you, and I expect answers," he says, the edge of his mouth curling into a smirk. "But I'm sure we can find... other ways to make this conversation more enjoyable."

You feel a surge of panic rising in your chest. You know nothing about the attack, nothing that could be of use to him. But as you try to protest, his hand clamps down on your throat, not hard enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your words come out in a squeak. His grip tightens, and his eyes bore into yours, demanding truth. "You will tell me everything," he growls, his thumb tracing a line down to your collarbone. "And if you don't, I'll just have to make you talk another way."

The room spins as his free hand reaches for the hem of your shirt, tugging it up roughly. You try to resist, but his strength is overwhelming. He slaps you—once, twice, three times—each blow sending shockwaves through your body. "Stay still," he hisses, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "You don't get to enjoy this." But you can't help the way your breath hitches, the way your skin burns where he's touched you.

Feyd's hand moves to the button of your pants, popping it open with a cruel flick of his thumb. He shoves them down your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. He takes a step back, his eyes raking over you with a possessive glint. "On your knees," he commands, his voice thick with desire. You hesitate, but the pressure on your throat increases. You have no choice but to comply.

As you kneel before him, you can't help but notice the bulge in his pants. You know what's coming next, and your body reacts despite yourself. He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to look up at him. "Open," he says, his voice a low growl. You obey, feeling his spit hit your tongue. The taste is salty and metallic, and you want to gag, but instead, you swallow, the action making your eyes water.

He smirks, pleased with your submission. "Good," he whispers, his voice low and seductive. He releases your hair, and you feel his hand move to his belt. The sound of it unbuckling echoes in the room, and you know you're in for a world of pain. But deep down, amidst the fear, there's a spark of something else—desire. You know it's wrong, you know you should be terrified, but there's a part of you that craves this depravity.

When his cock springs free, it's massive, thick and veiny. You can't help but stare, your mouth watering despite the situation. He grips it in his hand, stroking it slowly as a drop of his own spit falls on the glistening head. "you're not challenged, are you?" he asks, his voice taunting as he watches you do essentially nothing. "You want me to fuck your pretty little mouth until you can't think straight." You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the wetness between your legs gives you away.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head up. "Look at me," he says, his eyes burning into yours. "Beg for it." You want to resist, but the pressure in your throat is unbearable. "P-please," you whimper, hating the way the word sounds, you convince yourself you're pleading for him to stop. "Please,"

Feyd laughs, a cold, cruel sound that sends chills down your spine. "That's more like it," he says, and then he's pushing into your mouth, his cock filling you until you gag. You try to pull away, but his hand is tight on the back of your head, holding you in place. "Take it," he snarls, and you have no choice but to do as he says.

The feeling of his cock in your mouth is overwhelming, a mix of revulsion and arousal that makes your head spin. You can feel his hands in your hair, guiding you, forcing you to take more and more of him in. He's so rough, so violent, and it's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. You know you shouldn't enjoy this, but the way he uses you, the way he makes you feel so utterly powerless—it's intoxicating.

He pulls out, and you're left gasping for air, tears streaming down your face. But he's not done with you yet. "You're going to beg for me to fuck you," he says, his voice a sinister promise. "You're going to beg like the little peasant you are." His hand moves to his cock again, stroking it slowly as he watches you.

You shake your head, trying to deny the words that are forced out of you. "N-no," you stammer, your voice hoarse from his rough treatment. But the look in his eyes, the way he smirks, tells you that he's going to get what he wants. And deep down, you know you want it too.

He grabs your hair again, tilting your head back so you're staring up at the ceiling. His other hand fists in the fabric of your shirt, ripping it open to expose your breasts. He leans in, his teeth grazing your neck as he whispers, "Go on,"

You feel his hot breath against your skin, and your body responds in ways you never thought possible. "P-please," you start, your voice shaking. "Please, My Lord, take me." It's the first time you've adressed him, and it feels like a betrayal, like you're giving him a piece of yourself that you can never take back.

He chuckles, a dark sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "That's better," he says, and then his mouth is on your breast, biting down hard. You cry out, the pain mingling with the pleasure that's building in your core. His tongue flicks over the sensitive flesh, soothing the ache before he bites again, harder this time.

His hand releases your throat, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving. He notices your reaction and takes it as a sign of encouragement. "Hm," he hums satisfied, his voice a dark purr. "Keep begging."

Your mouth opens, and the words tumble out, a desperate plea for him to take you. "Please, Na-Baron, I need it. I need you to ruin me." The words are barely coherent, but he understands. He steps closer, his cock brushing against your cheek, leaving a trail of precum.

He takes your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. "You're mine now," he says, his eyes full of lust and possession. "Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to ruin." And with that, he pushes you onto the cold, hard table, your wrists and ankles strapped down with leather cuffs that bite into your skin.

Your heart races as you feel the head of his cock nudge against your wet, swollen pussy. You can't believe you're about to let this monster inside you, but your body seems to have a mind of its own. You arch your back, silently begging for it.

He teases you, sliding the tip along your slit before pushing in just a little. "Beg for it," he says again, his voice a demand. And so, you do. "Please, please, just spare me," you whimper, the need in your voice undeniable, but in reality you're begging for it to stop, or for him to just kill you, you can't tell anymore.

With a triumphant smile, he thrusts deep, filling you completely. You scream, the pain indistinguishable. His grip on your hips is like iron, holding you in place as he starts to move, each thrust sending a jolt of agony through your body. But it's a sweet agony, a delicious torment that you never knew existed.

You can feel your orgasm building, and you know it's going to be powerful. You try to hold it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but it's no use. You're at his mercy, a toy for his sadistic games. "Cum for me," he orders, his voice harsh. "Cum on my cock."

You feel your body tighten, your muscles clenching around him. You're so close, so close to the edge. And then, with one final, brutal thrust, you're over the edge, your body convulsing with the force of your climax. He grunts, his own release following shortly after, filling you with his warm seed.

As he pulls out, you can't help but feel a sense of loss, as if a part of you has been claimed by this monster. Your vision blurs with the mix of pain and pleasure, and you realize that the line between the two has been obliterated. You lay there, panting, your body still trembling from the intensity of the experience. Feyd stands over you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with victory.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look at him. "You liked that, didn't you?" he asks, his voice dripping with satisfaction. You shake your head, trying to deny it, but your body betrays you. You can feel your pussy still pulsing around his cum, the evidence of your climax a stark reminder of what just happened. "Don't lie," he says, his grip tightening. "I can smell it."

The tears stream down your face, mixing with the spit and sweat. You want to hate him, to despise him for what he's done, but you can't. Some twisted part of you craves the pain, the degradation. He leans in, his mouth hovering just above yours. "Say it," he demands. "Tell me you liked it."

Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally give in. "I liked it," you murmur, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. His smile widens, and he releases your hair, letting your head fall back onto the table. He grabs a handful of your spit-slicked hair again, jerking your head to the side. "Good," he says, his voice low and predatory. "Now, let's see if you can handle more."

You feel his hand move between your legs, his fingers pushing into your still-throbbing cunt. He's rough, almost painful, but you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're going to take it all," he says, his voice a dark promise. "Every inch of me, until you're screaming for mercy."

He flips you over, so you're face down on the table, your ass in the air. He slaps it, hard, and you jump. "Spread your legs," he orders, and you do, feeling his hands on your thighs, pushing them apart. His cock nudges against your entrance, and you tense, not sure if you can handle another round. But he's relentless, pushing into you without warning, filling you up once again.

His thrusts are deep and hard, each one sending a shock of pain through your body. You try to scream, but his hand clamps over your mouth, muffling the sound. "You take what i give you," he grunts, his voice strained with his own need. "Ungrateful slut"

The room is a blur of pain and pleasure, his slaps and grunts the only sounds in your world. You can feel yourself losing control, your body responding to his every demand. Your mind screams for it to stop, but your body arches back, begging for more.

His hand moves to your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp. "You're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Mine, mine, mine." The chant sends a shiver down your spine, and you know it's true. You're lost in the depravity, a willing participant in his twisted games.

And then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and used. He steps back, his cock glistening with your juices. "Get dressed," he says, his voice cold and detached. "You're not done yet."

You struggle to sit up, your body aching and sore. You pull your pants up, wincing as the fabric scrapes against your sensitive skin. You know that the bruises will form soon, a constant reminder of what happened here. But as you look up at him, you can't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. You're not sure what's coming next, but you know it's going to be just as terrifying and exhilarating as what's already occurred.

Feyd watches you, his eyes never leaving your body. "You'll be back," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. "And next time, you'll be ready to tell me everything."

You nod, too scared to speak, too overwhelmed by the experience to do anything but obey. He steps closer, his hand reaching out to stroke your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle, almost tender. "Good mutt," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I'll be looking forward to our next meeting."

The door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cold, silent room. You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. Your body feels used, above abused, but there's a part of you that craves more. You know it's wrong, that you should be disgusted by what just happened, but you can't ignore the heat that still pools in your core.

You finish dressing, wincing as the fabric of your shirt brushes against your bruised skin. You can still feel his cum inside you, a constant reminder of his dominance. You try to stand, but your legs wobble, and you sit back down on the edge of the table. You're not sure how long you stay there, trying to process what's happened. But eventually, you force yourself to move.

You walk out of the room, your head held high despite the pain and the tears that threaten to spill over. You know you're not going anywhere—not until Feyd says so. But for now, you're free. Or as free as you can be in this prison of his making.

As you stumble through the hallways, you can't help but feel changed. The fear that once consumed you has been replaced by something else—a need, a hunger. You know he'll be watching you, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for the next time he can take you apart. And you know, deep down, that you'll be eagerly awaiting it.

You find yourself back in your cell, the cold, hard bed a stark contrast to the warmth of Feyd's body. You lie down, feeling the ache between your legs, the stickiness on your skin. You touch yourself, tentatively at first, then with more urgency. You can't get the feel of him out of your head, his cruel words echoing in your ears.

You moan, the sound barely audible as your fingers work you closer and closer to another orgasm. It's not the same without him, but it's something. Something to hold onto until the next time he decides to play his twisted games with you. And as you finally come, you whisper his name into the darkness, a silent declaration of your newfound submission.

The days that follow are a blur of pain and pleasure, fear and desire. You're subjected to his whims, his every demand met with a mix of dread and anticipation. Each time he enters your cell, you know what's to come—the slaps, the choking, the brutal fucking that leaves you trembling and begging for more.

You're not sure how long it's been, but it feels like an eternity. Time has lost all meaning in this place. All you know is Feyd, his touch, his voice, his cock. He's become your world, the center of your existence. And as much as you hate it, as much as you know you should fight, you find yourself craving the next time he'll come for you.

One evening, the door opens, and there he is again. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel a thrill of terror and excitement. "Ready to talk?" he asks, his voice a low purr. But you know that's not what he really wants. You shake your head, your eyes wide with fear and longing. "No," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I—I can't."

He smiles, a cold, calculating smile that makes your stomach drop. "That's what I thought," he says, moving towards you. "But don't worry, I have other ways of making you speak." And with that, he grabs you, pulling you onto the bed, his hands rough as he strips you bare.

This time, he's slower, more deliberate. He takes his time, savoring every inch of your trembling body. He kisses you, his mouth bruising your lips, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You taste yourself on him, and it only makes you wetter. His hand moves down to your pussy, his fingers sliding through your slickness. You can't help but whimper, your body betraying you once again.

He pulls away, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "so wet for me," he says, his voice a soft growl. "A pet so eager to be used." His thumb circles your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You try to push his hand away, but he's too strong. Instead, you find yourself arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

Feyd's smile widens, and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to worship my name," he whispers, his words a promise of pain and pleasure. He slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. But it's no use. You're his to do with as he pleases, and your body knows it.

He adds a third finger, stretching you wider, preparing you for what's to come. You whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily. He chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You're going to shut up" he says, his voice a dark purr. "And you're going to take my cum"

He pulls his hand away, leaving you feeling empty. You whine, your body craving his touch. But before you can protest, he's pushing into you again, his cock thick and hard. You feel yourself stretching around him, the sensation both agonizing and exquisite. He moves slowly at first, savoring the feel of your tight pussy clenching around him. But soon, the need takes over, and he starts to pound into you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure and pain through your body.

You can't hold back anymore. You scream, his name ripped from your throat in a ragged cry. He loves it, his eyes lighting up with sadistic glee. "That's it," he says, his voice a harsh grunt as you dig into his skin, dark blood staining your fingertips and dead skin finding solace under your nails. "Make me bleed"

As he fucks you, you can feel yourself losing control, your thoughts spiraling into a haze of sensation. You don't know if you're begging for him to stop or to go harder. All you know is that you need this, that you're addicted to the way he makes you feel.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, he reaches his peak, filling you up with his cum. You feel it spurt deep inside you, the heat of it making your toes curl. Your own orgasm follows, a powerful wave that crashes over you, leaving you gasping for air.

When he pulls out, you collapse onto the thin mattress, your body spent and trembling. He stands over you, stroking his cock, watching the mixture of his seed and your blood dribble out of you. "Lord," he says, his voice a low growl. "A sight for sore eyes, huh?"

You look up at him, tears in your eyes. You know you should be disgusted, should be fighting back. But instead, all you can do is nod. You're his, in every way that matters.

He wipes his cock clean on your thigh, a final act of dominance. "Now, tell me," he says, his voice cold and calculating. "What do you know about the attack?"

And for the first time, you realize that the interrogation isn't over. The fear comes rushing back, but it's tinged with something else—a strange, twisted excitement. You know that no matter what you say, he'll always find a reason to take you again. And a part of you wonders if, deep down, you want him to.

The door opens, and two guards enter the room. "Take her away," Feyd says, his voice bored. "I'm done here."

You're dragged out of the room, your body bruised and sore. But as you're thrown back into your cell, you can't help but think about the next time he'll come for you. And a shiver of anticipation runs through you, a promise of what's to come.

This is your new reality, a cycle of pain and pleasure, fear and desire. And as much as you hate it, you can't help but crave it. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has claimed you, and there's no escape from his sadistic games.

As you lie on the cold, hard bed, you can still feel him inside you, his cum leaking out of you. You touch yourself, the ache between your legs a reminder of what happened. And you know that no matter what, you'll never truly be free of him. You're his now, his plaything, his whore. And as you drift off into an uneasy sleep, you whisper his name, a silent promise to submit to his every whim.

[babygorewhore]

Revolution

You disobey Kai. And he decides to punish you with a very important reminder.

Requested by @marchsfreakshow

Warnings! Violence! Kai! Manipulation! Blowjob! Degrading! Again Kai! No plot!

“Kneel before your divine rulers feet.” Kai’s icy tone cut through you as you fell to your knees before him. Your hands covered in blood, baseball bat tossed to the side as Kai stalked through the room.

“I give you basic commands, don’t i? I told you not to kill her and WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?” He screams and slaps meadow across the face. “You fucking killed her.”

You flinched. Your boyfriend's anger wasn’t a new emotion but it did nothing to lessen the shock as Meadow crumpled to the floor next to you. But the reality was, it was your doing that led you to end up in this position. You had killed the girl. Meadow had been the one against it.

“Get out of my presence. I need to speak with her. Now.” Kai grit out between his teeth and she immediately stood and ran. Not wanting to gain another strike.

Kai clicked his tongue and gave you a quiet chuckle. “You know, you’re almost as good of a liar as I am. But unfortunately for you. You’re much easier to predict.”

His boot came and knocked you on the floor. Causing you to scramble as you cried out in pain. He scoffed and returned to his favorite spot. “Get over here. Speak with me.” He gestured with his head and you forced yourself up.

Your flats moved to sit across from him as he raised his hand. Pinky up. You knew this routine. Every week you had to swear to tell him the truth. So he could control everything about you and everyone in his cult. A word you were forbidden to use. “Once physical contact is made you have surrendered yourself to tell me the truth and nothing other than that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, divine ruler.” You interlocked fingers and he sighed.

“How did you do it? Manipulation is a technique. Used for weak minded. So I’m wondering how you convinced a strong member to do your bidding.” His tone was a mixture of admiration and anger.

You licked your drying lips. “I used her desire to impress you. She loves you. So it’s…easy to use her. To lie.”

He gave you a sadistic smirk. “Did you enjoy it? Playing a game with her? Making her believe every word you said?”

“Yes.” You whispered, feeling intimidated by the giddy energy he was displaying.

“You are such a wonderful example of me. What I stand for. What I do. I am you. I am…so proud of my little lamb. So, I want to reward you.”

“Re-reward me?” You stuttered.

Kai nodded. “You have one hour. One hour to do whatever you wish for me. Suck my cock. Ride me. Fuck me until your pussy can’t take it. I won’t do anything other than what you say, my love.” Kai told you.

You leaned forward to kiss him.

And that’s when he laughed.

“And that’s how I know.” Kai pulled away and stood as horror threw you. “You will never be as good of a liar as I am.” That’s when his hands went under your arms and drew you out of your seat. Your eyes moved close to him as you gasped.

“Get on your knees. You know that’s my favorite and expected position.”

Your knees welcomed the discomfort as your fingers undid his belt and you yanked down his boxers. His red precum leaking cock slapped between his thighs and your mouth watered. This was an act that Kai usually never had to ask for. Why would you deny your divine ruler and his revolution?

He slapped his dick against your tongue before you lifted its weight into your hands and licked both sides slowly and lewdly drooled on yourself. Kai loved spit as you dumbly licked at his tip, reaching up to massage his balls as he started moving his hips to your hands and mouth.

You hadn’t sucked cock before you met him. He trained you. Taking your innocence and lack of experience away by throat fucking you. Only his cock would belong inside you. Your divine ruler was your God. And you worshiped him like the little cumslut you were.

The soft skin of his dick rolled in your mouth as you sucked him and he slammed your head back against the chair as he bobbed your head up and down. “Give me those pathetic little tears you stupid bitch.” He growled as you dumbly drooled on him. Your own pussy clenching around nothing as he fucked your mouth.

But swiftly Kai removed his cock and sprayed your face with his cum as you sharply inhaled. His creamy fluid coated your chin, jaw and chest as it dripped and he gave you a satisfied moan. “That’s better, little lamb. But your punishment isn’t over.”

He gave you a cold glare. “You don’t get to cum. Not for a week. Why should you enjoy pleasure when your job is to only serve me?”

“Yes, divine ruler.” You whispered and he reached down and patted your cheek.

“Do you belong to me?”

“Yes, Kai.”

“That’s my girl.”

@xxhellfirebunnyxx @fear-is-truth @icannot3 @icannot3 @icannot3 @imyourdaninow @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @enchanting-evan @elaine-in-the-membrane @redhead1180

[love-bugsy]

trouble | jason todd

the worst thing about love (three) / series masterlist

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

tw: no editing, allusions to character death, (haphazard) depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason bc he’s just my lil guy, medical terminology learned from greys anatomy lol

only jerks steal other people’s writing and mine isn’t even that good so no reposts

The paint on your door is chipping, some of it flaking off when you shove it in that particular way to unstick the lock, dropping your keys on the side table in your entryway. Your eyes flick down to your watch, bleary eyes reading that you’ll only get a solid four hours of sleep tonight - by fault of a sadistic attending with a mountain of charts. Still half-asleep, you lock your door, habitually double-checking the deadbolt. Good ol’ Gotham. Taking a single step into your apartment, you freeze. Faint sound echoes from the living room; your TV is on.

Cold fear spills down your spine - you aren’t under any delusions that your neighbourhood is safe, but people here usually keep to themselves. You pull your baseball bat out of the umbrella stand by the door, clammy palms gripping the barrel too tightly. Wielding the bat haphazardly, you creep into your living room.

Old cartoon reruns play tinnily on your shitty TV, the nostalgia doing nothing to calm the prickling anxiety that crawls up the sides of your neck. Rounding the corner fully, you brace yourself for a murderous intruder to leap out at you; heartbeat in your throat.

Instead, your anxious heaving is broken by a gruff mumble from a lump taking up half of your couch. Fucking Red Hood. It’s the third time this month. Shoulders sagging, you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut like he’ll disappear when you’re not looking. You swear that mask glints at you mockingly when you look up again. You set the bat down, pulling off your coat and unwinding the maroon scarf around your neck. You’re being influenced, birdie.

You approach the couch, stepping around muddy boot prints to turn the television off. You drop your bag against the coffee table and slot yourself between Red Hood’s wide-spread legs. He’s slumped upright in the middle of your couch, one arm slung out over the back; scuffed leather jacket chucked over the other side. Something stutters in your chest at the sight of him taking up so much space in your home; the evidence of his presence.

You think he’s unconscious at first, but there’s a tenseness to his shoulders still; a rigidity you’ve seen lax when he was bleeding on your living room floor. The sight of him so relaxed spurs you into a bit of a panic - you doubt he would ever be so unguarded unless he had a serious injury.

Reaching out, you feel around his torso, frowning at the rough patch of dried blood seeping from his left shoulder. You unbuckle his makeshift pauldron and hunt around in your work bag for a pair of scissors to cut away his sleeve. You’re leaning over him with the scissors when he huffs, head shifting in his sleep. You flinch - nearly nicking him - and draw back holding the scissors a safe distance away.

“Shit!” You gasp out, as his mask lifts to meet your eyes. He lets out a gravelly laugh at your shock and you frown, taking your scissors to his sleeve again.

“Not gonna buy me dinner first?” He rasps drowsily. You can hear the shit-eating grin he’s sporting under the mask and you shoot him a dry look - fighting a smile as you gently pull his sleeve away. Pursing your lips at the dried blood caking his shoulder, you press around to find the wound, pausing when he draws in a sharp breath. You raise an incredulous brow.

“Is this a bullet wound?” You don’t know how he manages to look sheepish from behind the mask. He winces when you start cleaning away blood with an alcohol wipe.

“You should… shit- you should see the other guy.” You purse your lips a little, focused on cleaning the wound. Occasionally, he huffs when you get a little too close to his injury. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from scolding him for getting shot in the first place. You should examine him impartially - years of training scream that one oversight could be fatal - instead, you slip up into something instinctual; something gentle.

“Jesus, Red… this is… how the hell have you been keeping yourself alive?” For some reason this yanks a dry, barking laugh from him. That damn familiar laugh. You just can’t place it.

“You’d be surprised.” You give him as flat a look as you can manage, absently gnawing on your bottom lip as you examine his injuries. He flattens his head against the back of your couch, staring stoically up at the ceiling as you prod around the bullet wound. You yank your phone out of your pocket, aiming the weak flashlight at his shoulder. Shit. Bullet’s still in there.

He lifts his head when you turn your back to him, putting your phone down to grab what you need. You shoot him an apologetic look, “Got a bullet in there, Red.” He grunts, shifting so his shoulder is angled towards you. You pull on a pair of rubber gloves, dousing the palms in Betadine. “This is gonna hurt.” He huffs out an amused breath.

“Always does.” You lay a repentant hand on his other shoulder before digging your fingers into his wound, trying to find the shell. His breathing starts to get more laboured, his head lolling back a little. Wincing in his stead, you pull out what’s left of the bullet, wiping it off to see if there’s shrapnel still in his shoulder.

“You’re lucky, this looks intact.” You feel the way he looks at you, biting your bottom lip to hold in a laugh. He is less amused.

“Lucky, huh?” He says, gaze locked on the bullet as you hand it back to him - clean of his blood. Taking it in his good hand, he fiddles with it as you dig around for bandages in your first aid kit; you’re starting to run out. You find the bandages at the same time as you find your response; part fond, part disciplinary.

“Just be glad you don’t need stitches.” His head shifts slightly and you get the distinct feeling he’s trying to read you. He’s silent for a long while after, watching you bandage his injury quietly.

Not for the first time, you’re unsettled by the blank slate of his mask; you don’t like that you can’t figure him out. His anonymity makes the silence unnerving.

“So… you gonna tell me how you got shot?” He just looks at you, mask hiding any indication of his response.

“My self-preservation skills aren’t all that honed.” You can’t help the snort that escapes you at that, covering your mouth with both hands in embarrassment. You have to look away at how intensely he’s staring at you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you go back to securing his bandages.

“I noticed.” You mean for it to sound dry but you can’t fight the little smile that betrays you. You’re getting too comfortable with him, forgetting that he’s a killer, forgetting that he’s a criminal, forgetting that he isn’t him. Maybe that’s why you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Reminds me of someone I used to know.” Stupid.

“Never heard that one before. Maybe you should introduce us.” His tone is joking, but you tense up all the same.

“No.” You say, tightly, averting your eyes. It’s cold, and mean. You grit your teeth to stop the flood of memories. Red doesn’t notice.

“Ashamed of me are ya?” He teases, voice rumbling out of his modulator. The sound is somehow twisted, grating against your ears. Unknowingly wrenching up a buried grief into the pit of your stomach; kicking dirt in a minefield.

“He’s dead.” You marvel at how cold you sound, how detached, when your chest is tight with a phantom pain. He shifts up immediately, sobering in an instant. He reaches out a gloved hand, gently pulling your wrist from where you’d unconsciously crossed your arms. He rubs an apologetic circle into your pulse point.

“Shit, sorry.” You look away, though you know it’s unfair. He winces. “I didn’t- I’m…”

“... sorry.” You nearly drop the tray of dirty dishes you're carrying at the sight of Jason in your door; hand cradling his profusely bleeding nose. Shoving the tray onto the closest table, you sit him down at a chair behind the counter and wander off to find a clean towel. Wetting it under the sink, you sigh, nudging his hand away to tenderly daub at the blood under his nose.

The silence stretches, broken only by Jason’s foot tapping on the floor as he fidgets in the chair. He winces when you bring your hand up to check his nose and you snap.

“If this was one of those Castor boys again, I’m gonna kill ‘em.” That pulls a little smile out of him, imagining you up against those 6 foot ogres. You don’t think even the Gotham in you could give you a fighting chance with those two.

“S’okay. Can handle it.” Little crease between his brows. You sigh fondly, running a curious finger over the tiny scar on his cheekbone. If you were paying a little more attention, you might have noticed the red flush crawling up his neck at your touch.

“I know that. Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Sorry I… it just makes me so angry- I,” he huffs in a tight breath, like he can’t get enough air in, “I can’t stop myself.” You frown, torn between being angry at him or with him.

“I don’t want you to apologise, blue, just,” you draw in a pensive breath, brows furrowed, “They got you bad this time.”

“They were jumping a kid, ‘dee, couldn’t stand by and watch.” His hands are as restless as his bouncing leg and you feel a twinge of endearment and jealousy all at once. He’s always moving, so much that sometimes you feel like you’re at a standstill; only a matter of time before he leaves you behind - grit in your teeth and grit in your heart. But today, he’s your best friend and he could’ve gone anywhere, but he’s here. You wrinkle your nose, worry creasing your forehead.

“You and your hero complex.” You hand him the bloody cloth to fiddle with, before gingerly checking his nose again - barely ghosting your fingertips over his nose. You didn’t know - back then - what being careful meant - to him, to you - you just knew you meant it. Your eyes are locked on his nose when you speak again, “S’gonna get you killed one day.”

He narrows his eyes at you, head tilted to the side - a language you aren’t fluent in yet. He’s serious for a long moment, watching you dart your eyes away and begin to pick at the skin peeling off your fingers. His brows loosen.

“Not when I got you lookin’ out for me, birdie.” He shoots you a toothy grin - god, you love his grin. All his teeth bared like he never learned how to smile properly. You always want to make him smile like that. Still, you can’t help the way your brows knot up, jaw tight as you watch a trickle of blood drip from his nose.

“I’m tired of watching you get hurt, Jay.” The lump in your throat makes the words come out thick; the fear makes them small. Despite your best efforts to hide them, stubborn tears pool on your lashes as you blink furiously. Jason looks devastated.

“Shit.” He brings his free hand up to take your wrist, rubbing comforting circles against your pulse. (An effort to stop your tears that only makes them fall harder.) “I’m… I’m not used to people worrying about me. I’m sorry. Fuck, please don’t cry, I hate it when ya cry.”

You let out a watery laugh, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The little voice that tells you you’re going to lose him one day. You must look utterly pathetic when you meet his gaze because he pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head into his shoulder as you cry.

Distantly you recognise the uncomfortable position you’re folded in, nearly bent in half to press your face into his neck, his shoulders pushing against yours. You don’t know how long the hug lasts - a lifetime in a minute and a half - but when you finally pull back, eyes puffy and red, Jason hangs on to your wrist, thumb brushing the hollow where your hand meets your wrist.

“I got your shirt all wet,” you say, laughing self consciously, “I’m sorry.” Jason just shakes his head, grinning sheepishly.

“I got blood on yours.” You nearly get whiplash from how fast your head turns to your shoulder, which now sports a deep maroon splotch. Gross, nose blood. He laughs heartily at your expression, “Guess we’re even then, birdie?” You roll your eyes, pulling your hand from his grip to cross your arms over your chest, raising a brow when he pouts in return.

His eyes dart between your unamused expression and the clock behind your head, smile faltering a little. He has to go. You hold out a hand for the cloth and he jumps up - his constant energy is a marvel - dropping the bloodied tea towel in your open palm. He runs his hand under his nose, smearing a last drop of blood over his upper lip.

You stop him as he’s about to leave, running the clean corner of the cloth gently over his mouth to wipe away the mark. He looks straight into your worried gaze, bringing up a finger to smooth the crease between your brows. “Hey, birdie, no wrinkles over me.” Your mouth twists.

“S’you and me, ‘dee, promise. Not gonna go anywhere else.” Jason holds out his hand, pinky outstretched. He cocks his head with that stupid, glorious grin of his. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” You roll your eyes, wrapping his finger in yours.

“You and me, blue.”

“Doc?” You jolt back into the present, hands frozen over the clip you’re securing Red’s bandage with. His hand is still wrapped carefully around your wrist and you yank it back - face heating - letting his hand fall forlornly by his side.

“Shit, sorry, I- sorry.” You finish your, somewhat shoddy, job, chucking your supplies back into your bag haphazardly.

“You okay over there?” With your back to him, you hum a less than convincing agreement that he seems to believe. You hear him rustling about behind while you zip up your bag, and assume he’s getting ready to sneak out your window, leaving you with only traces of him until he fucks up on patrol again.

Instead, when you turn around, he’s holding out a scratched up burner phone, mask tilted. You shoot him a confused look, taking the phone into your hands.

“What… am I doing with this?” He laughs, and you fight the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re pretty dense sometimes.” Now your face really does feel hot, brows furrowing at his chastisement. He chuckles at your quiet indignation, pushing the phone closer to you, “Your number, pretty girl, so you don’t get scared half to death next time I show up.” You fumble the phone, glancing between him and it as you enter your phone number. You tuck your hair behind your ear as you hand it back to him, crossing your arms again.

“Next time, huh?” You think he might be smiling under the mask, though you’d never be able to tell.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, doc.” He gets up, dusting off invisible dirt from his pants. Absently, you follow him over to your window, sweeping up his leather jacket before he can. When you hand it to him, your hands brush - a cliche jolt sparking up your arm when you touch him. He looks away as he takes it.

Red ducks out of your apartment and onto the fire escape, putting the jacket on fluidly and adjusting his mask. He gives you a little mock salute and you shake your head, biting back a smile.

“Don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.” You say, not meaning it at all.

“Swear on m’life.” He returns, fingers crossed behind his back. He turns after a last, charged stare, grasping the railing with his good arm. Flustered, you scramble, not one to let him have the last word.

You lean out of your window as he swings, one-armed (christ almighty, your knees might be weak), down onto the fire escape below. “You can use my door, you know!”

He meets your stare from below, as you hang half out of your apartment. He belts out a chesty laugh, “Now where’s the fun in that?” He swings over the fire escape, and disappears into the night.

Oh yeah, you’re in trouble.

some “emergency” texts:

y’all I wish I had an excuse but the truth is just that I have adhd and I got really into pjo haha, uh so here’s chapter 3. it’s not great but it is done so I hope you guys enjoy it, gonna make less promises about my fucked up schedule now lol.

with love, bugsy :)