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[toxicboyfriend]

moldcursed​:

ethan  used  to  fight  back.  he  used  to  yell  and  kick  and  scream,  used  to  do  anything  he  could  to  try  and  prevent  their    ‘  experiments  ’.    it  never  worked,  but  it  was  always  worth  a  shot  ;  it  proved  that  the  connections  hadn’t  broken  him  yet.  nowadays,  he  can’t  be  bothered.  it’ll  happen  either  way,  no  matter  what  he  does.  what’s  the  fucking  point?  brought  to  the  brink  of  death  over  and  over  again  with  cruel  yet  effective  methods,  only  to  heal  and  start  the  cycle  once  more.  it’s  never-ending.  ethan’s  own  personal  hell.  

how  long  have  they  been  at  this  this  time?  ethan  can’t  keep  up  with  it.  he  knows  that  hands  have  been  wrapped  around  his  neck,  cutting  off  his  air  supply  over  and  over  again.  so  close  to  death  he  comes  every  time,  only  for  the  researcher  to  quit  just  before  he  can  actually  die.  is  regeneration  a  blessing  or  a  curse  at  this  point?

still,  ethan  isn’t  frightened  anymore.  this  is  just  …  the  new  normal.  his  fucked-up  version  of  a  life  nowadays.  at  least  shinya  TRIES  to  make  it  easier  on  him,  tries  to  make  it  TOLERABLE.  would  any  of  the  other  researchers  be  GENTLE  with  him  afterwards?  no.  ethan  knows  that  they  wouldn’t.  every  single  time.  every  single  time  that  he  tortures  him,  every  single  time  that  he  hurts  him,  he  cleans  him  up  afterwards.  cruel  beatings  turn  into  tender  touches.  it’s  a  ROUTINE.  it’s  EXPECTED.  it  makes  things  so  much  …  BETTER,  in  a  twisted  sort  of  way.  

the  room’s  pristine  white  walls  are  tainted  with  black  decay,  the  spread  of  the  mold.  ethan  doesn’t  know  how  to  control  it  ;  he  couldn’t  get  rid  of  it  even  if  he  wanted  to.  ethan  is  barely  even  aware  of  the  fact  that  he’s  creating  the  spread,  even  when  he’s  being  hurt.  it’s  a  defense  mechanism.  a  subconscious  thing.  

currently,  he’s  leaning  against  one  of  said  walls  for  support,  his  skin  pale,  and  watching  with  a  blank  expression  as  the  other  man  gently  scrapes  away  at  the  mold  covering  his  skin.  he  used  to  care  about  this  shit  —  now,  it’s  NORMAL.  he  doesn’t  resist.  doesn’t  fight  back.  not  anymore.  

it  takes  a  moment  for  the  question  to  properly  register,  and  even  then  all  ethan  does  is  slowly  nod  his  head.  he  doesn’t  care  which  one  it  is.  he  just  feels  FILTHY,  covered  in  the  decay  as  he  is.  the  cleanup  attempt  only  does  so  much,  after  all.    “  either  one.  i  don’t  care,  ”    he  manages,  wincing  afterwards.  he’s  still  in  the  process  of  healing,  and  after  however  many  hours  that  hands  had  squeezed  his  neck,  talking  hurts  just  a  bit  more  than  it  should.  

ethan  knows  he  probably  shouldn’t.  he  knows  that  they’re  being  watched,  but  it  doesn’t  stop  him  from  slumping  forward,  forehead  coming  to  rest  against  shinya’s  shoulder.  he’s  just  TIRED  …  so  fucking  tired  …  

“  we’re  done  for  today,  right?  i  get  a  break  now?  ”    

“Yeah,” Shinya says quietly, “we’re done for today.”

Turned so that his back obscures Ethan from the cameras, he brings his hand up to stroke gently through the man’s blond hair. Some Mold’s gotten into it; they’ll have to scrub that, too.

“You don’t have to talk any more, Ethan.”

The speakers crackle, something’s said about the rest of them going ahead to their lunch breaks, and Shinya uses his free hand to wave them off. All the better-- it makes it a lot easier to heft Ethan up, his arm hooked around his middle while he ensures Ethan’s own arm is slung over his shoulders.

On particularly bad days, he’ll carry Ethan himself. He’s not sure if he needs it this time, but he’ll keep an eye out.

The experimentation room is connected to Ethan’s living quarters through a passage with sterilisation chambers on either end. The rapid whoosh of air and the distinct scent of disinfectant hits them both, but still Shinya makes the rest of the trek to Ethan’s cell so he can take him to the bathroom in it.

While Ethan isn’t allowed a separate room for his hygiene, per se, a session or two after Shinya had been taken onto the Winters Project he’d insisted on dividers being placed to give him a sense of privacy in his nudity. The things are translucent-- enough to allow Ethan’s silhouette to show through for monitoring and ensuring he doesn’t harm himself-- but it’s still better than nothing.

Once Ethan’s seated on the covered toilet, Shinya carefully undoes the buttons of his shirt, its white fabric stained with black Mold. It’s heavy and gross when he pushes it off his shoulders, but Shinya’s stopped noticing such things ages ago.

“I’ll run a bath for you,” he says, tearing his eyes from Ethan’s pale chest to his face instead. “They let me bring bubble bath in” -- in exchange for Shinya giving a worse session later in the week, just to see if allowing the asset some niceties makes the cruel treatment produce more -- “if you want to use that.”

He doesn’t expect more than a nod or a shake of the head, but either way, he’ll get to work according to Ethan’s preferences.

[toxicboyfriend]

Takuya Kimura

[toxicboyfriend]

this is an independent rp blog for shinya murakami, an unaffiliated serial killer OC. writer is 21+ and will not write with minors.

no rules, just don’t be an asshole and remember that there’s a line between fiction and reality. smut and shipping (m/m, m/f, m/nb, m/*) is fine, but please take note that there is something very wrong with shinya’s brain and relationships are most likely going to be unhealthy to some degree. he can love, sure, but his priorities aren’t all there. i also won’t write him bottoming.

mobile-friendly character information under the read more.

name: shinya murakami age: thirty-one goes by: he/him sexuality: demi work: university professor, biochem researcher origins: japan languages: japanese, french, english, mandarin chinese, korean vices: smoking, drinking

biography CW: MENTIONS OF ABUSE, SUICIDE, MURDER

When Shinya was eight years old, a banker had denied his father's small town factory a loan to support the manufacture of a product that was meant to bring them fame and fortune. In a month, his father's company went bankrupt, and along with the loss of his business came the loss of his family ties. The Murakami household became violent under his father's hand, and though time and again Shinya's mother tried to escape with him, they never succeeded. From a young age Shinya learned how to grit his teeth and bare it— his mother, meanwhile, had other plans.

To this day, Shinya isn't sure why he didn't just die with her when she left the gas going in their sealed home. But by the time the ambulance got there after he ran all the way to hospital, she was gone.

Shinya was left alone with his father from the age of ten onwards, and at nineteen his father told him to help kill the man that ruined their lives. They tracked that banker down, retired now over a decade later, with every intention of killing him in his own home. In the end, however, it was Shinya who stabbed the man over and over when his father froze in the middle of it, even if his father took responsibility to serve a life sentence in prison after.

Weeks before his 22nd birthday, Shinya's father killed himself in his cell, and then he was truly alone.

Shinya can't pinpoint what drives him to keep killing even after all the blood already shed in his life. For all intents and purposes, he's an upstanding citizen with a well-paying job helping the youth of the world grow and develop, and by most standards he's set for life. But the power he held over that banker at age nineteen had been addicting, and after being powerless for so long he imagines indulging is only to be expected. Still, in the end there isn't any deeper meaning to why Shinya kills: he likes making other people hurt, likes making them cry and sob and beg, and much as he knows it's wrong the fact that it's fun outweighs everything else.

Above all else, Shinya isn't sorry. And if he's caught one day, he won't be sorry then, either.

[toxicboyfriend]

@moldcursed // LET’S DO THIS

As far as the research states, the more you hurt him, the more Mold the asset produces. That said, Shinya has been a good researcher-- he’s cut him, burned him, whipped him, electrocuted him, hit him with all manner of blunt weapons, and every time without fail the asset has been able to heal himself to perfection after. It’s a miraculous thing, they say: Ethan Winters is the most stable combination of mutamycete and human genetics the Connections has ever seen. After all the times Shinya’s sat with him and helped him heal, though, he knows they aren’t wrong.

It’s the end of another torture session, this time with Shinya’s gloved hands having been wrapped around the asset’s throat on and off for a good two hours. Time and again he’d squeezed his neck, and time and again the asset had nearly died only for Shinya to wait for that regenerative factor to kick in again. Given their excursion, the Mold that covers the walls of the room is immense; since they’d discovered a vaccine against it (all because of this incredible research), though, Shinya’s been able to enter the room in just his work clothes and his labcoat, sans all the heavy gear.

Seeing the asset without the barrier of his helmet and its respirator is an experience, even if it’s been over three months now of twice a week sessions. The asset doesn’t seem scared any more, but that’s to be expected; everyone adapts eventually, even prey.

Still, Shinya finds himself touching him tenderly once he’s gotten his restraints off. Even when their sessions end and he’s told to leave the room, he cleans the asset up himself each time without fail. The hands that had been inflicting pain become gentle quickly, just as they do now as he carefully scrapes the Mold off of the asset’s hands and forearms so they drop to the floor with the rest of it. His bosses will never tell him to be this kind, but he isn’t doing it for them.

“Ethan,” Shinya says gently, quietly, his voice low so the people watching them don’t hear him calling the asset by name, “do you want a bath or a shower today?”

Regardless of the answer, he knows the asset won’t be capable of doing it himself. And with the routine of their work together at this point, he knows the man won’t resist him any more, either.

[toxicboyfriend]

…blood is dripping on us, We are standing somewhere between earth and stars, Not knowing if we are alive or dead.

Conrad Aiken, from Nocturne of Remembered Spring, and Other Poems; “The Trenches” (via theoptia)

[toxicboyfriend]

[toxicboyfriend]

crimsonhxnded​:

A soft grunt leaves him as he felt the gruff bite to his neck, smirking faintly as he grinds his hips back down to meet his as best they can.

The blood beginning to seep through his layers is still surprisingly warm, leaving him to wonder just how long he had played with the coworker before he had arrived.

His eyes flicker to her pale form for a moment, silently claiming victory. Whether it was true or not, Daisuke had always had a suspicion she wanted Shinya.

Eat shit, bitch.

Fingers running through faintly disheveled locks, he turns his face to look at his husband as best he can.

“She was? What else was she like? Did she beg? Cry? Fight back?” Fuck, does Daisuke love hearing about them fighting back. He’s well aware of how fit his partner is, but there’s next to nothing that gets him as hard as hearing Shinya describe in detail how he overpowers the ones with a little vigor.

He laughs, lips against Daisuke’s bruising skin. “You’re so fucking weird, always asking shit like that.”

Still, he’s pulling Daisuke’s shirt open and throwing it haphazardly to the side. The blood’s already made it unsalvageable, he’s sure, and Shinya can always get him a new one.

“She thought I wanted to come over as a date,” he murmurs. “It was almost too easy getting her close.

“She screamed real pretty when I banged her head on the counter, though.”

And it hadn’t been enough to do more than concuss her, either. “She asked me what was wrong, you know.” Shinya’s fingers undo the fastenings to Daisuke’s trousers. “I picked up her kitchen knife and she started to cry because she didn’t understand.

“Think she got the picture when I cracked her femur under my shoe, though.”

His hand curls around Daisuke’s cock over his underwear, squeezing. “Are you happy to hear she cried while trying to crawl away, Dai-chan?”

[toxicboyfriend]

What words Shinya might’ve spoken die in his throat, preoccupied as he is by the warmth of Daisuke’s tongue. He’d called him, as he always does, after draining his poor, former co-worker’s body of blood, and as he sits on a stool by the kitchen island he grips Daisuke’s slim waist with dirty, dirty gloves.

The blood seeps into his clothes, smearing over his buttons as Shinya undoes them. “Is that how you’re cleaning me up today?”

His teeth dig into the younger man’s lip, his cock a firm line under Daisuke’s thigh. Shinya only releases his flesh so he can bite down Daisuke’s neck instead as he rocks up against him.

“Ah... Daisuke, she was so fucking soft.” And his knife had moved through her torso like butter.

@toxicboyfriend

Daisuke straddles his partner’s waist, soft smirk on his lips as he leans in and flicks his tongue out to rub along the tip of his nose. “You had a little something there,” he purrs before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to his lips.