wrd2v

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im dizzy from laughing at this image

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My cat says ur a bitch

fuckkkkkkkkk man fucknur cat!!!! fuck! your cat!!!

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Lawrence 😎

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Hello

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Pleaseeee moreee dad strade last one was too good! love your acc! ✨

a/n: thank you! i'm so happy you liked the last one cuz i've been thinking about papa strade a lot since then :3c i hope you like it! see the end for translations of the german phrases/words!

VULGAR DISPLAY OF POWER

{ dad! strade x daughter! reader }

word count: 1.4k

warnings/tags: INCEST, sexual assault (non-con kissing, grinding), heavy drinking/alcoholism, forced/encouraged drinking, descriptions of fighting and violence (boxing), 'princess' pet name, strade speaking in german, choking, reader is 18+, totally wholesome father-daughter bonding.

The evening unfurls through the open window, mingling the scents of rain and asphalt with the stale air of your home. Inside, the television casts shadows against the walls, painting the walls in oscillating shades of blue and grey. You sit beside your father on the couch that reeks of spilled beer and cigarettes; the leather sticking to your skin every time you shift.

He clutches a bottle of liquor, swigging from it with eager, sloppy gulps. His eyes glint with a dark thrill as he watches the boxers on the screen, circling each other like wolves, muscles tense and eyes locked.

Strade leans forward, the bottle momentarily forgotten as his eyes fixate on the fight unfolding before him. “Sieh dir das an, princess,” he slurs, nodding toward the television as one fighter lands a vicious uppercut. A sickening thud resonates through the speaker as the opponent stumbles. The crowd roars, a sound like thunder, while the man regains his footing and strikes back, a spray of blood arching beautifully in the harsh light.

“Da! Did you see that hit?!” Your father chuckles, his voice electric with excitement.

The fight escalates and the men are reduced to beasts in a pit, their bodies and wills colliding in raw, brutal displays. The violence on screen seems to feed something in your father, a nasty delight that oozes out of him like sweat.

As one boxer lands a particularly savage punch, Strade lets out a howl of approval, slamming his fist into the couch in rhythm with the impact. His breath comes faster now, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and aggression.

“Beautiful isn't it?” he muses as he eagerly reaches for a fresh bottle. He pops it open and shoves it toward you. “Come on, drink up. It's better when you feel it all the way down.”

Reluctantly, you accept the bottle and clink it against his, the hollow sound mingling with the roar of the crowd from the television.

As you continue to drink, a fleet of empty bottles accumulates on the floor beside the sofa. With each new bottle, the world around you begins to sway slightly as if carried by an unseen current. Your father, ever the pillar in this tempest, seems unfazed, his laughter more boisterous, his comments sharper as the alcohol flows freely.

“Papa... I don't feel so good,” you manage, the words thick and clumsy on your tongue.

Your father turns to you, his gaze narrowing. “Just the booze hitting, princess. You're fine.”

But there’s something sinister in how he watches you— like a predator observing its prey as it stumbles and falters. The numbness starts creeping through your limbs, a leaden weight that pulls at the edges of your consciousness. The sounds around you— the harsh thuds of the fighters, the distant cheers of the crowd— begin to blur into a chaotic symphony, one that spins around you as if you're caught in a whirlpool. The room tilts a bit, and your head lolls to the side, heavy like it's filled with wet sand.

"I'm dizzy... Feels like spinning," You mumble, your voice is weak, slurred, and desperate.

Strade glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. "Oh, princess," he drawls, his voice dripping with a twisted admiration. "So süß, wenn du völlig beschissen bist." Setting his bottle down, he shifts closer, his arm circling your shoulders in a tight embrace.

"You're such a delicate thing, aren't you? Can hardly handle your poison." He coos as he gently strokes your hair, his fingers raking through the familiar locks.

As your head continues to spin, his hand shifts slowly from your hair to your shoulder, then down to your chest, pushing gently yet firmly. The motion nudges you back until you are laid out against the couch, your body aligning with its contours. The room tilts further, each sensation magnified by your blurred state.

"Wh- What're you doing—" you murmur, your voice weak, tinged with confusion and fear.

Feeling your resistance wane, Strade's presence looms larger. He maneuvers himself over you, his figure casting a daunting shadow. He pins you down with his weight; an oppressive force that feels both suffocating and grounding in the dizzying whirl of your surroundings.

His face inches closer, narrowing the space between you. His breath, tainted with liquor and tobacco, envelops you as his lips find yours, pushing roughly past your numb resistance. He bites down on your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and you taste the metallic tang on your tongue as he continues, his tongue forcefully intertwining with yours.

The leather of the couch groans under you both, each movement exaggerated in the dense, sluggish air. You try to shift, to push him away, but your movements are lethargic as if through molasses. Panic begins to claw at the edges of your clouded mind, each heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears.

You wrestle with your sluggish body, trying in vain to fend him off as the kiss deepens into something more savage. He shifts his assault downwards, his teeth finding the tender flesh of your neck. Each bite is deliberate, sharper than the last, leaving a trail of painful, throbbing marks. As the bites intensify, his touch transforms; the hands that once clung to your shoulders now travel upwards, their presence chilling as they snake their way to your neck.

His fingers encircle your throat, pressing in slowly but inexorably. The pressure is subtle at first, then grows insistently as your airway begins to constrict under his firm grip. Panic ignites within you as you thrash beneath him, your heart hammering wildly against your chest.

"Can't take the heat, princess?" Strade's voice slurs slightly, thick with mockery and the haze of alcohol. "It's just getting good."

Your vision blurs further, eyes watering not just from the alcohol but from sheer terror. You gaze up at him, your hands weakly reaching up to claw at his wrists, feebly attempting to pry his grip loose.

He watches, his face alarmingly close to yours, his eyes gleaming with delight. There's a dark thrill in his gaze, some kind of perverse satisfaction as he observes the fear and desperation playing out over your features. He grounds his hips against yours and you feel his erection pressing hard against your stomach. The sensation is alarming, terrifying, as you struggle to breathe under the weight of his body.

As the edges of your vision start to darken, your world narrowing into a closing tunnel of dimming lights, he observes your struggle with an unnerving detachment. Just when your lungs burn with the need for air, when spots of light burst across your closing field of view, he releases you abruptly. Air rushes back into your lungs in harsh, ragged gasps, each breath a painful struggle against the lingering tightness of your throat.

The room spins wildly now, no longer just from the alcohol but also from the shock and the sudden influx of oxygen. You roll soppily off the couch and grip your chest, tears blurring your vision. You're left coughing, gasping for air, the fear and relief mingling in a bitter cocktail that leaves you shuddering under his looming presence.

He leans back slightly, his expression unreadable in the dim, flickering light from the television. "Es ist besser, wenn du es fühlst," he mutters darkly, a twisted smirk forming on his lips as he observes the effect of his actions, the control he wields as effortlessly as breathing.

You lie there, struggling to stabilize your breathing, to push back the curtain of fear and disorientation. The television's glow casts ghostly shadows across his face, making him seem even more like a figure from a nightmare. As the final moments of the match unfold, the climax of violence reaches its peak: one fighter, fueled by desperation and sheer force of will, lands a series of rapid, precise blows. His opponent, overwhelmed and battered, staggers back—one last punch, devastatingly accurate, sends him crashing to the mat.

The victor stands over his fallen adversary, chest heaving, then suddenly roars in triumph, pounding his chest with clenched fists as the arena erupts around him. The sound of the crowd is a tidal wave of noise, a cacophony that fills the room and mingles with the ringing in your ears.

This, you realize, is what captivates your father— this unadulterated display of power and pain. This ability to dominate, to control, to decisively end the dance of violence with a single, defining act.

German Translations (in order of appearance)

“Sieh dir das an, princess,” = “Look at that, princess,”

“Da! (…)” = "There!"

"So süß, wenn du völlig beschissen bist." = "So cute when you're all fucked up."

"Es ist besser, wenn du es fühlst," = "It's better if you feel it,"

[wrd2v]

Hey. Heard You do Fantics. Well, I very much like Edgar from Splatbox. I would like to request a wholesome fluff fantic involving him and a Female fantic please and thank you.

Ill get on it as soon as I can!! :3

[wrd2v]

HELLO ITS CHERRIE, IM BEGGING ON MA KNEES A READER X REN FIC😭😭😭😭😭 pretty please

What type of x reader would you like pookie, smut, fluff, or angst🤭🤭

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Lmk if yall want anymore fanfics, I will do btd x readers and splatbox x readers, as well as other character ships as well. I will do smut, angst and fluff fics.

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Strade x fem reader SMUT MDNI

“Cut yourself” strade says with a serious look on his face as he hands me the blade. I look at him shocked but also aroused. He doesn’t know this is exactly what i’m into. I take the blade into my hands making direct eye contact with strade. As i swipe the blade against my thigh i can’t help but feel the heat and wetness between my thighs. I take one hand into my panties and rub my lips and use the blade to cut up my thigh with the other. Watching my every movement with arousal strade unbuckled his pants and pulled out his hard member and he pulled the knife out of my hand and threw it over to the corner of the room. “Do you know how long i wanted this?, the nights I’ve counted until you finally fucked me?” I say looking at him with a pleased look. “Im going to take all of you in right now darling..” strade says as he traces his tip against my hole. I gasp at the length and girth of his cock. “Please put it in i cant take it anymore strade..” he shoves his cock straight into me like Hes been begging for this moment, “fuck..” i moan out as every thrust turns from pain into a intoxicating pleasure. He moans out from the tightness of my cunt and continues to go faster and faster. “Fuck strade i’m gonna cum.. please let me cum” he smirks at my pleading “just hold it a little longer sweetheart and we can cum together.” “Yes sir.” He keeps his pace and our moaning only gets louder, so loud even the neighbors would know both of our names. “You ready to cum sweet girl?” “Yes strade please..” “3..2..1.. cum” both of us cum at the same exact time and he lays down next to me on the basement floor. “You can sleep with me in bed tonight okay?” I look at him in shock “you’ll really let me sleep with you tonight?” “Of course just as long as you don’t run from me love” I collect my thoughts and decide to express my emotions now “i wont run from you strade because.. i think im in love with you.” He looks at me and smiles “i think i’m in love with you too, now lets go get cleaned up”. Both of us grab hands and walk up the basement stairs and up to the bathroom to shower. We held each other the entire time and for once in my life i felt loved. By the man who kidnapped me. I love him.

He took me to the bedroom and gave me some of his clothes to wear and he dressed me and laid me down onto the bed as he laid next me and kissed me. “I love you y/n” “i love you too strade” he held me close to him and i nuzzled my head into his chest and we both fell asleep.

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Oh, what a waste...

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Cork ‘im Daisuke‼️‼️‼️‼️

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:3c you could use a few more piercings

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love the iconic duo of a psychopathic/schizophrenic individual and the colleague he's jealous of who he hurted and ended up regretting then had a mental breakdown about it

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pickles.mp4

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another one, lads!

fun fact: when I used to visit my dad as a kid, he would take me to random graveyards for fun

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Fatal has some man ass and i wanna grab that juicy thang…