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thatdeadaquarius · 10 months

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Genshin Impact Sagau/Isekai:

You still have acces to characters! ...by possessing them. 👻

PART 2 (you're here!) / Part 1

All art by me! :] leave me a iced coffee?? :0

HEY!! REALLY QUICK PLEASE READ!

STOP tagging my posts as "Yandere Sagau", "Sagau Cult AU", "Sagau Imposter AU" or other related dark content tags.

I'm sick of seeing reblogs that tag my work as dark content, when I'm specifically trying to LIGHTEN UP THE SAGAU TAG 😭😭??

Please be more respectful of this. Actually read the work before you just tag it incorrectly. Tags do matter.

/nm /gen

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Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Misc. Genshin AUs

Orbit: Headcanons, Scenarios

Stars: Tighnari ft. Cyno, Alhaitham, Collei

Comets & Meteors:

Content Warnings: Mild violence (bandit attacks/non-graphic), Reader/you possess people non-consent (mild/consent given eventually)

& Trigger Warnings: Reader/"you" possess people non-consenually for short times, but given consent eventually.

(pls comment if any more!)

Edit 9/7/23: 1,000+ NOTES?? WHO WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY- THANK YOU???

Edit 12/24/23 + 4/5/24:

☆

My goofy ass forgot to put this here .-.

Anyway this is a full length fanfic now ;)

…mistakes were made.

bad decisions were had, and okay, mayyybbbeee you could’ve taken more precautions against people finding out you were “real”.

afterall, you did see the Eremites reaction, even if it was only two guys (one from each camp) that you possessed :/

word spreads quickly amongst the Eremites groups, you guess, bc next thing you knew, after you’d moved closer to floating around Gandharva Ville,

they’d called that entire bit of forest haunted.

BUT IN YOUR DEFENSE-!! how were you supposed to know they’d blab to the whole camp they didn’t remember the past 20 minutes after you unpossessed them?? and immediately be on guard and jump to possession?? (Irminsul works hard but eremites/sumeru people work harder u guess)

And by the time you were happily patrolling with Collei, the forest rangers were just so chill you didn’t really expect anybody would think a ghost was possessing them (or whatever you were now… maybe,, just code?? it’s unclear)

so when u start to see Tighnari squint at people who’ve technically just “woken up” after you possessed them, mumbling under his breath more and more as a file he carries around gets thicker and thicker-

you start to think,,, maybe.

okay, mayyybbbeee,

you’ve fucked up.

◇

You really can’t help it, first it was making sure Collei got back safely from patrols (she’s ur skrunkly okay, you can’t help it, you’re still aware she’s capable but- the urge to skrunkle overpowers you- )

but then-!! You managed to spot Cyno! :D its ur boy!! ur little meow meow, who can throw people over his shoulder!! He really doesn’t need you, hovering around, but eh ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

what could it hurt! …it’s not like he can see, hear, or feel you anyway…

(unless u possess some animal/machine he thinks is friendly, which. sumeru is not exactly known for cuddly creatures. you don’t feel like experiencing death when possessing stuff just yet-)

imagine ur panic and shock as the General Mahamatra takes on a camp of criminals on the run, only for one of the old ruin machines (the ones that are just LEG and DEATH)

to hear the ruckus and come stomping around a thick patch of trees, it launched missiles!! You can’t warn Cyno, he can’t hear you!! No one can!!! The criminals are unconscious, there’s no other wildlife nearby they all ran off!!! FUCK-

You look at him and try to imagine his perspective as vividly as you can, he’s looking over the criminals, but now he’s turning, so people passed out and the tree-line got it-

Congratulations! You’ve possessed Cyno. 💀

It completely disorients you for a second, but then the panic of dodging the missiles comes back in time for you to make his body dive and roll off to the side, for as long as you can manage a roll too since you remember that’s the best way to dodge missiles in the game

…which works really well! bc he’s so fit and agile tbh

It was weird to finally run again after so long (two months now in teyvat?? wow)

with your feet suddenly in sandals, and feeling the breeze chilling your bare chest (Cyno’s chest??)

yeah its a shock considering most of the ppl you’ve possessed lately have been fully clothed rangers lol

you quickly imagine your ghostly form again, and just like that you’re drifting out of Cyno in ur “ghosty” form, having floated out and away from his back

Poor guy looks so fucking confused, and immediately is wielding his spear again, and is about to get out the crouch you put him in behind the dilapidated stone wall (dammit he better not waste ur efforts to keep him alive-)

until missiles slam and explode against it, he ducks back down (thank fuck) and Cyno just looks around one last time before hopping the wall and running to fight the thing

you notice that when the electro user goes to use his powers, they seem stronger than they were in his fight with the goons??

Maybe he was just going easier on them, since they are only human?

…so why does even Cyno look surprised when he goes to make a simple swipe with his charged spear and a bolt of lightning cracks out from his spear instead…?

…weird.

◇

Tighnari knows you’re here.

You figure he must have collected the reports of people “blacking out” or “sleep-walking” or whatever else and begun to suspect the worst.

…to be honest, you’re not sure what to do.

on one hand, it would be great to have someone know you actually exist, as yourself,

but on the other…

What would Tighnari think?

Of you possessing his rangers?? Temporarily taking ownership of someone without permission??? You’re afraid he’d think the worst of you…

tho u didn’t do so often, as u realized how messed up this could be, and u never did more than make them walk or talk normally for a few minutes before leaving them alone!

… afterall, you missed interacting with people. You were honestly a little worried abt going crazy, which is the only reason u were desperate enough to possess human people in the first place and continue doing so, just to talk to someone and have them look you in the face again like you really did exist as a person here-

(u thought u remember reading somewhere back on Earth that someone can only last 3 days of no other human contact until they start to lose it? but even if that’s not true, at the very least, u dont think talking one-sidedly to yourself all the time is healthy…)

so when Tighnari seems to get that file you’ve seen him adding onto, and gather up supplies, mentioning a day trip to Collei and the others to Sumeru City for some

“further research into these ‘blackouts’, and also contacting some of my colleagues who might know something…”

there’s no way you’re not going with him.

you feel increasingly anxious all day, and at one point when you were sure Tighnari was walled-in by books at the House of Daena, decide to go blow off the anxious energy by possessing an animal to get some food!

…you’re not really feeling comfortable enough to possess a living being into eating yet, that seems hella nonconsensual, and u kinda would be taking the joy of the meal from them tbh-

so u possess a cat!

a ginger cat, bc u like to think if u do anything weird, that ppl in Teyvat have the same type of cats back on Earth and excuse it as just:

“unhinged ginger cats being unhinged ginger cats yep makes sense” lol

you’d managed to be really cute (and wasn’t that weird, having to mimic animal behaviors like rubbing ur side against a person’s legs..)

and convince one of the cooks of Lambad’s Tavern to give u some leftovers, and been about to go off to try out sunbathing before the chore boy, little shit he is, tried to chase you off with a broom!! >:( the audacity!! you clearly have a little plate and everything!!

luckily, you’d finished eating, but still! Ouch!! those bristles fucking hurt-!!!

…you look and see a Sumeru-ified version of a skateboard, and u just know ur little cat face is just ✨v✨

and u steal the little shit’s skateboard as revenge! HAHA thats what you get animal abuser!!!

The kid’s yelling at you as you speedily skate away with ur little cat paws (LMAOO), but the cooks are calling him back in so he can’t pursue, (oh good u hear them get onto him for chasing u off)

and as u slow down to coast along the Sumeru streets,

you feel someone’s eyes staring you down.

You assume it’s just people being amused at a cat skateboarding, obv

but when you look just ahead of you to see a smiling Sumeru citizen or eremite-

Oh. It’s Alhaitham.

and he’s just… watching you.

he’s stopped reading whatever he’s got in his hand, and is slowlyyyy turning his head as you pass by…

You decide to just keep skating away. LMAO

◇

it’s already sunset by the you’re accompanying Tighnari back from Sumeru City, floating along behind him

and you’d been expecting a calm walk back, tbh you’d been feeling a little better bc the ranger hadn’t found much to identify you, yet, luckily-

but bc u can never catch a break:

Tighnari didn’t see the bandits dropping from the goddamn trees BEHIND HIM- and they had like claymores out- those were definitely gonna be killing blows-!!

so yeah.

You possessed Tighnari.

turns out ur pretty good at dodging bc this is second time now you’ve helped dive away for someone in an ambush, ur kinda proud of urself tbh💀

and as you make him take a few leaps back, ur ears twitch in the wind as you duck behind a tree, then float away and out of his body

The poor hybrid ranger visibly sways, then shakes his head out of it, and he flicks his ears in different directions, squinting into the woods, he’s pulled out his bow, so you’re at least reassured he’s aware there are enemies

Like Cyno last week, he too gives up and rolls for the next tree for cover and begins to shoot and take down the bandits

the rest of the week is kinda a blur after that, bc it’s mostly filled with Tighnari running in circles around the camp checking for blackouts, writing letters to Alhaitham and Cyno apparently, and you not possessing anybody out of paranoia :/

Most notably however,

you’ve unfortunately discovered one of the few drawbacks of ur possessions

(y’know, besides not existing essentially, what with no one being able to sense u outside of possessions)

apparently, if someone walks thru you, they accidentally force you to possess them 💀??

while it’d already happened once with a random ranger that you didnt notice was walking up behind you,

you didn’t want to test it again just yet bc it kinda made YOU nauseous and incredibly dizzy when this happened

(as in, u stumbled like a drunk after this poor ranger woman ran thru u, until you were so dizzy and the world spun sm u had to make her sit on the literal ground, luckily she just thought she was just really dehydrated when she came back into herself 😭)

so obviously, you’ve avoided crowds to keep this forced possession thingy from happening all the time

like at the Forest Rangers meetings or something, ur watching off to the side, instead of standing with them or beside them

so needless to say, after about a week and half since possessing Tighnari,

you definitely did not mean to possess Collei.

She’d been in her wheelchair today, the Eleazar flaring up and tiring her body out

so her wheels had been entirely silent when she rolled up to where you and Tighnari were leaning over some strange experiments of his- you were just trying to figure out what all these mirrors were for, didn’t he do plants more-?

you didn’t even know what the hell happened, you just felt that familiar dropping sensation, like a small drop on a rollarcoaster, blinked, and then suddenly you were sitting instead of standing/floating???

Oh god-

before you could even begin to process that Tighnari was in front of you instead of beside you, the world was shorter,

The fox-eared ranger yelled in triumph, grinning with sharp fangs and spinning around to look at you (Collei)-

“Ah-ha! It worked! Finally, I saw you! I saw you, I-?? Oh gods, Collei, NO-!”

And with quick reflexes, Tighnari’s summoned his bow, but he’s clearly confused on what to do about this situation, taking aim, but also holding the air glowing with dendro not as taunt as you’d seen him in the battle with the bandits

You scramble to raise your hands up, brown poofy sleeves rise to your command, light green hair you can feel on your shoulders, everything is familiar, but not-

“WAIT! I’m sorry!! This was an accident, I promise! I don’t intend to hurt Collei, or you!! Please, just, don’t shoot me, I think you’ll just hurt Collei instead…”

You talk him down and decide, that if he’s put this much effort into finding out about your existence, is an incredible leader and friend to everyone around him, and was able to accept the traveler and many other strange things that’ve (probably? maybe?) already happened in Sumeru (god fuck u dont even know where in the timeline you are)

that you can probably trust Tighnari with your existence, and your powers.

…He nearly passes out.

◇

Life has gotten a lot funnier, and happier, since you told Tighnari (and some of the more trustworthy rangers and Collei by proxy) about ur existence (or really, confirmed it)

He’d been wary at first, appropiately cautious and demanding answers, of which you were happy to give and explain yourself

luckily, after a whole lot of “hmm, I see, no, I think I’m understanding-” , finger on his chin and everything

he’s said it’s okay to hang around the rangers, so long as you don’t possess anyone anymore without them knowing about you/with permission (outside of emergency situations that is)

tho he did seem surprisingly understanding and accepting of you doing it before after you explained how u were just unbelievably lonely and were lowkey paranoid of going crazy-

The rangers seem to believe you’re some kind of god/spirit thing, as you had no explanation yourself as to what you were ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

Tighnari’s also given you the rule to help out around here if you’re going to “ghost-laze around”, as he puts it lol

you’ve redirected ruin machines/feral animals away from rangers many times by now, to the many thanks and gratefulness of the rangers

you’ve even managed to even figure out how to push Collei’s wheelchair around when she uses it!

mostly by possessing tree after tree and using vines, or occasionally a fungi that can fly so you can nudge her along

she has insisted that you possess a ruin guard and carry her just to try it… however, Tighnari overheard her talking to the forest rangers’ dog (you) and immediately knew shit was up and banned you from doing it (at least not yet)

While most rangers are okay with you possessing them for a few minutes (and they’ve developed this bandana wrapped around their upper arms policy of “red = no possess, green = go ahead”)

Collei is the most okay with it and for longer, so you “won’t be that lonely ever again!” :’)

Tighnari is busy with stuff, so you can’t possess him as often, but the ranger has developed a theory that the more you possess someone, the more they can sense your feelings during possession/while floating around in ghost form too,

so he’ll occasionally feel you in the room with him, and start talking out loud in some one-sided convo to make you feel more included to make up for not being able to interact with him sometimes :)

(after taking you off his list of worries he’s still pretty swamped, not that he’ll tell you that, as he’s still not quite sure why he’s so, warm and safe feeling when you’re around, so willing to trust you so naturally, that it makes him want to at leats pretend to be worried abt a possessing ghost god/thing hanging out with the rangers now)

◇

basically everything is great!

the rangers are okay with you, they got a system to interact with you consensually, Tighnari and Collei are fond of you, you get to finally have something to do instead of floating around all the time (joining ranger missions)

and look!! they’ve even been kind enough to build you a little shrine or altar of sorts! Notes about Sumeru life, recipes for you to try, occasionally some books for you to read, and even some snacks/desserts for you to try out the next time someone possesses you and gives consent! (you leave them a little note stuck on their hand with your question for specific actions like that, if there isn’t another ranger there to ask for you when you unpossess them)

and everything is so cool, and everyone is so sweet and accepting

…Until Alhaitham shows up in Gandharva Ville, knocking on Tighnari’s door.

☆

AHHHH idk if this is any good! sorry it took so long, it was mostly the art 😭😭

anyway its not the best (the writing or the art) but i hope it’s at least some content to look at and be entertained for a minute!

also figured it was a good day to post what with the attack on our beloved Ao3 (tho i think it’s back up now?)

anyway, feel free to leave critiques on this one! (which I’ll probably turn this into a real fic one day soon, but not sure what to do with the plot/do a diff setup than this or what)

☆

sorry abt the radio silence! I just needed to close my mailbox bc i had a lot of stuff to answer, ur welcome to send submissions to chat/non-requests!

and also this took time to make (once again, mostly the art, bc thats how it always is with art isnt it 😭)

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Safe Travels Stranger,

💀♒

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♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @justlostintheinternet / @assassinsnake101 /@sun-wokung

If ur tag is here and didnt work, idk why!

Maybe see if your listed as a "searchable blog"?

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bloodybellycomb · 7 months

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out of the ashes of the 2023 writers strike, another beautiful, completely unintentional, homoerotic phoenix will arise and it will fly into the sky of a male-dominated tv show and this majestic creature will consume the minds of multitudes of impressionable youths

and those glorious, dedicated legions will write profoundly holy and depraved scriptures, the likes of which the world has never seen and soon, these sinful acolytes will rejoice as they discover how salvation can only be found on the lips of your damnation.

This is the legacy of a writers strike; it's splendorous; its awe-inspiring. It will even be proclaimed that this unfathomable power is almost...supernatural.

#wga strike #hollywood #writer strike #wga #sag aftra #destiel #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #this is really silly #but its also really true #so #wait why did i write this like palpatine is explaining supernatural to anakin in revenge of the sith #i think i just got possessed by dean girl darth sidious #birdy chirps

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aimbutmiss · 3 months

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Mihawk was surprised when Crocodile came up to him with the idea of Cross Guild, which was surprising in itself, because it took a lot to get such reaction out of the stoic man. Mihawk's initial reaction was to assume Crocodile had finally gone mad after his fall from grace. But it didn't take him long to see the full picture. Buggy's debt and the sheer amount of men who adored him in his crew...he could be used easily and efficiently. But Mihawk didn't care about all that. He wasn't a businessman like Crocodile, he didn't care about money or power like him. But despite this, he still agreed. There were two main reasons why he did so:

1- He was bored. With Zoro and Perona gone, he was left on his own on his dreary island. (No offence to the humandrills, but they weren't exactly good company) At first he was quite happy about his situation, he did value his solidarity after all. However, that bliss didn't last very long. He quickly found his usual routine to be repetitive and dreadful, more and more as the days passed. Losing his warlord status right after triggered a fuse in his mind. He could do anything he wanted (not that the government ever got in the way of him doing as he pleased) but he realised that he didn't know what it was that he wanted. Crocodile's offer reminded him of the offhand conversations he used to have with Shanks at dirty bars, which brings us to the second point:

2- He was very intrigued by Buggy. Shanks babbled a lot after he had a bit too much to drink, more than usual at least. But he would still have some level of awareness no matter how drunk he was, never letting his guard completely down. This was not the case with Mihawk. They were close friends, something even more at some point, so Shanks felt comfortable enough to open the dam holding back his words around him. Mihawk appreciated this, not only because it was a huge show of trust, but also because of how entertaining his stories were. Stories about wars and victories, the Pirate King and Dark King Rayleigh... It was all so intriguing. But everything somehow always circled back around to one man: Buggy. Mihawk had never heard of him before, but if Shanks' words were to go by he must have been truly exceptional. Shanks used to have this lovesick look on his face whenever he talked about his old friend, sometimes even straight up sobbing in front of him. This man, who was on Gold Roger's crew and made Shanks fall head over heels in love, perplexed Mihawk. How could such a man exist, hiding his existence for so long? Oh, how he longed to meet him.

Unfortunately for Mihawk, their first meeting didn't go according to plan. Marineford was a mess. He wasn't very interested in the government's goals, he just wanted to see how far straw hat would go. That boy's potential shone so bright, it didn't surprise him one bit that red hair also saw it. What he didn't expect at all though, was to run into the Buggy from Shanks' stories, who was being used like a human shield by straw hat. So, it didn't phase Mihawk one bit when his sword cut straight through the man but he quickly put himself back together. The blue hair, the red nose, this couldn't possibly be anyone else. Mihawk had a certain image of Buggy in his mind, but that all shattered at one look at this man-baby in front of him. There was no way this was the man Shanks was praising left and right, right? Or perhaps, Shanks' stories were always tinted with rose coloured glasses and very far from the truth. How disappointing. But still, something didn't sit well in Mihawk's mind. There must have been some amount of truth to the words he heard. He wanted to see more, but unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to catch the clown again, with Shanks arriving and all. Yet here it was, two years later, Crocodile was handing him a second chance on a silver platter. He simply couldn't refuse.

And so, he agreed to playing house with Crocodile. It was obvious why the man had reached out to him instead of, literally anyone else. Mihawk was strong. He had a strong hold on the use of haki, which the other man lacked. He could easily protect them while Crocodile ran the business part of things. They would work well together, covering each other's weak points. The more obvious reason though, was the fact that Mihawk happened to be one of the very few people Crocodile got along with. That man had a habit of making enemies of everyone he came across, which was not surprising considering he wasn't very likable. But that never bothered Mihawk, he did like a challenge.

The more he got to know Buggy, the more he hated the man, which was not what he was going for at all. He tried his best to see any good traits in him, but repeatedly failed to do so. The man was like a soggy, wet mop, who cried at any chance. He was way too easy to push around, and Mihawk kept doing it because the damn clown was so annoying. His voice, his mannerisms all got on his nerves. This was it, giving up was the only choice. There was no way this clown had any redeemable quality. Shanks was just more insane than he initially thought, whatever. It was just wasted time, and he wouldn't waste any more of it.

Just as he had decided on his departure from Cross Guild and had mentally prepared himself to clash with Crocodile (which he really didn't want to do, he actually liked the man) fate decided this was not the end. All the stalking he did payed off as slowly, he started seeing the clown in a new light. It was the small things at first. The man clearly cared for his crew, and it was almost sweet. He'd always put aside time to train in acrobatics with Cabaji, and to groom Richie with Mohji. He and Alvida had tea time together, giving the woman her much needed gossip time. He was more silent with his closer confidants, he let them do the talking while he listened. He let Cabaji teach him new moves, to help him out when he struggled. He laughed at Mohji's horrible jokes. And it wasn't that boisterous clown laugh, oh no, it was much more...quiet. Yet somehow more vibrant. It was genuine. He let Alvida paint his nails, and let Richie lick his face even when it got red and irritated. He was usually known for his grand gestures as the "genius jester", but he showed his love much more subtly to his friends. It was almost refreshing to see the difference. Almost like the usual Buggy was a performance, a show. And Mihawk was finally seeing the backstage.

Then, one day, he ran into him in the library. He was in his colourful pyjamas, hair tied into a bun and no clown makeup to cover his face. No makeup. One look into his sea green eyes and Mihawk finally started to understand what Shanks must have been thinking. This man was beautiful. And he was holding one of his favourite books.

"D-do you want me to leave? Because I totally can! I'll be out of here in a jiffy-"

"No need. You may stay."

Mihawk didn't know what came over him, but he walked over to the other man. "I quite enjoyed that one. Which chapter are you on?"

And just like that, their unofficial book club started. Buggy was a lot more clever than he let on. Mihawk quite enjoyed listening to his opinions about the books they read. One day, it stopped just being books. They'd talk about anything and everything. Mihawk hated to admit it, but this was exactly what he was missing on Kuraigana: companionship. He felt comfortable with Buggy, and it felt way too easy to fall into a routine with him. Buggy was knowledgeable on a lot of things. He knew chemistry and physics, spending a lot of time in his workshop working on his bombs. He was also a stellar navigator. Clearly his apprenticeship under Roger hadn't been for nothing like it seemed. And when he spoke of old tales, he wouldn't smile like Shanks did. His eyes were carrying sadness and sorrow Mihawk couldn't comprehend. How fascinating, that the same experiences can bring completely different emotions to different people.

When he wanted to try to see Buggy more from red hair's perspective, his goal wasn't falling in love. But that's exactly what happened. It happened all too quickly. He got back into his farming and cooking hobby, because now he felt he had a reason to settle down on Karai Bari. A lot of his cooking ended up on Buggy's plate. Unintentionally, at first, but it made the clown so happy that Mihawk didn't have it in himself to stop. If anything, he started to spend a lot more time in the kitchen. And the escalation of their relationship wasn't one sided, Buggy had also started feeling more comfortable around him. (Which definitely didn't make Mihawk fill with warmth) He started asking things of him like "Can you brush my hair?" "Can you watch me perform this trick?" and Mihawk found that he was losing his ability to say no at an alarming rate. He was falling for the man. He took that revelation with grace, he wasn't the type to deny his feelings, unlike a certain someone. (Crocodile's denial of his feelings for Buggy is a whole other story that was happening consecutively to all this) And as he watched Buggy polish Yoru with careful hands and focused eyes, he found it all too easy to understand Shanks. No wonder this man had an army of men following him, willing to do anything he said. Buggy the Clown was dangerous, and he just added Mihawk's name to his long list of victims.

Mihawk's mouth curved upwards as he took the shiny sword from a smiling Buggy. He found that just this once, he didn't mind being a victim at all.

#is this my longest post??? maybe #im so normal #i got possessed i think #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy pirates #buggy x mihawk #bughawk #I JUST CHECKED THIS IS 1.7K WORDS WHAT #my writing

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antiyourwokehomophobia2 · 9 months

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Severance is eldritch horror. Dylan meets his son, and, in the blink of an eye, he's back to his outie self and is incapable of coming back at will. Can you imagine that? All you've know your entire life is work. All you know about yourself is what your job is. Then, suddenly, you're aware that you're a father. Your son comes into a closet---your closet, with clothes you've never worn but belong to you. You bought them. You're seeing your style and preferences for the first time. Your son is so happy to see you that he wraps you in a hug. You don't know what his name is. You don't know that you have more children. You don't remember any of them being born. You only know that this boy is your son because he calls you "daddy". And then you're gone. He's gone. You wake up in your office with absolutely no way of going back.

Helly wants to leave. She learns that she's the daughter and heiress to the man/company who is keeping her trapped. Her chance of escaping rests entirely on her outies willingness to let her go. This is never going to happen. Her power rests in the hands of a woman who is her but also not her. She is enslaved to herself. All she has to do is go outside and say "I don't want this anymore" and she will be free! The moment she steps outside, she loses every desire to do that. The person she is when she's outside does not want to do that. She watches a video of herself where she tells herself "you are not [a person]". The person she was when she sat down to record it and the person she was when she watched it are somehow entirely different and entirely the same. She tries to hang herself in order to hurt the version of herself who made that video. I'd like to take a second to talk about the eldritch horror of being an outie, too. Imagine being outie Helly. Imagine walking into work and bring perfectly okay. The next thing you know, you've hung yourself and are actively suffocating. You have no way of saving yourself. Your innie self made sure of that. You are in the process of dying and you don't remember why.

Burt retires from his job. Burt, who has just started to fall in love, is ripped away from the man he loves because of... Well, himself. His outie has decided to retire, and Burt has no choice but to follow him. He is him. Except he's not. Except he is. Except he's not because the man who has decided to retire is married. In Burt's retirement video, his outie states that he's aware that someone is making his innie very happy. He knows that it's another man. That's incredibly scary? Imagine having no memory of the last eight hours but being able to feel the effects that they have on you? Imagine going into work in whatever mood, and then leaving in an elated one and having no concrete idea as to why. Imagine being faithfully married and knowing that there's a part of your day where you don't know that you're married. You have absolutely zero control over whether you cheat on your husband. You do cheat on your husband! You are not aware of his existence while you're living as your innie. You have no clue how devastated you've left the man you're cheating on your husband with. You have no clue why he's banging on your door in the middle of the night. You don't know him. Even without your memories, you can feel how happy he makes you. Your husband is holding you while he bangs on the door.

Mark saves Helly from suicide. He's forced to leave work. If Burt is anything to go by then Mark, the outie, is suddenly extremely distressed and crying while having no idea as to why. He walked into work okay and left with tears on his cheeks. Suddenly, innie mark is at a party. He sees people who he knows but has never met before. He has no idea the woman standing in front of him is his sister. He sees a photo of a woman that all the people in the outside world believe to be dead. He works with this woman. She's alive! He has the power to change the lives of the people outside. He's gone in the flick of a switch. Outie mark doesn't remember shouting "she's alive". He doesn't know why everyone is staring at him funny. He doesn't know that his wife is not dead. He doesn't know that the person he's trying so hard to forget is his co-worker.

Irving. Poor Irving. The man he loves is taken away from him. They will never see each other again. Even if they do, they will not know each other. The man he loves gets to live the rest of his life without the knowledge that he ever even met Irving. Irving has to walk into work every day and mourn the loss of a man who will never come back. This man is not dead. He's just not himself. Except he is. Except he's not. Except he kinda is dead. Without work, your innie is effectively dead. Your innie and outie are two completely different people. Irving used to follow all the rules. Who knew that the heart of a rebel is born from the broken pieces of a good man's? Irving gets a chance to find the man he loves. He finds him embracing another man. This does not deter him. He throws his weight at the door and starts banging on it.

#Severance #Severance spoilers #I didn't intend to write so much #Just about Dylan tbh #But then I got possessed #Eldritch horror

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treeba-rk · 1 month

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you are martyn and you wake up next to your wife and kids and it’s going to be springtime soon which reminds you of that one deranged roleplay from three years ago now. traffic fandom is screaming about new life series but you check discord and nothing has been announced, no new red dm notification, nothing new from ren as per usual. you wonder if it’s just you so you log on twitter and you realise ren genuinely replies to no one, not doc (the guy you stole a diamond from) and his increasingly desperate simp tweets. but ren replied to this fanartist from your tumblr tags that you call king. whatever. so you go on youtube to see what this guy is doing and you scroll past enough wither farm thumbnails to find his stuff from last season and you see the thumbnails of him and false at blue river raceway and something bittersweet and sour rises up in your chest, something that’s not jealousy, and you think of that ice boat race again, think about the stab of guilt to feel towards tango that you remember the boat race more than the technological marvel that is decked out, but hey, you’re just biased for that old dog, okay? you can’t help it, no one can help it. thinking about decked out makes you think of that burning box again and how it’s been months since that electrifying exchange, you remember sitting there for forty minutes bullshitting about anything while ren diggity dog speaks in a cup, you remember the vinegar chips that you ate, you remember the slightly sour tang on your tongue, ren says your eyes sparkle in the flames and your neck is kissable and you feel like you’ll walk backwards in hell for him, you slowly let the chips in your mouth soften and disintegrate like it’s not the vinegar you want to savour

#is this anything im sorry #got called out for discord for my unhinged paragraphs sooo maybe ill just write whatever #rpf #<- to be safe #this was a joke i got possessed

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aibyoutachi · 9 months

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(once again feel free to ignore me didjsns i will just force you to Think of them) souji and yosuke comparing hand sizes 😙

i ignored your prompt a little but i hope you're satisfied with this extremely awful sappy comic, my inbox knows no rest because of you (thank you for the brainworms)

#answered ask #souyo #long post #p4 #persona #my art #i got this ask two hours ago and immediately dropped everything to answer it #like this comic was beamed into my brain somehow and possessed me #more than souyo usually possesses me #me: man i suck at writing and dialogue #also me: *makes a comic that could have just been a fic*#sorry the ring is on the wrong fucking hand aughh

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plush-rabbit · 2 months

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Weighted Bodies

Pt. 2 to Foggy Minds Word Count: 3.2K A/N: I had some requests for part two of foggy minds so i came up with this!! -

There’s a knock on your door. It’s quick, and curt and you rush towards the door with a pep in your step, your first instinct at such a knock to believe that it’s a package. But you stop short, and you remember that you hadn’t ordered anything. More knocks follow- rapid and heavier than before and you step back.

You’ve made your payments for the month. You can’t think that it would be any loan sharks- you’re dumb, but you’re not dumb enough to make those types of decisions. Your stomach twists and you think it’s a client who found you- it wouldn’t be the first time, but you can’t afford to move. Maybe if you’re quiet, whoever is behind the door will leave. The knocks come again, heavier and pounding on the door, and you turn, grabbing at a picture frame, the metal ridges digging into the palm of your hand. You just have to stay quiet-

“Oi!” You flinch at the voice. “It’s me!” Your eyes squint, and you can recognize the voice. “Let me in, will ya? This who fucking place reeks of death and shit.” Oh, you can recognize the voice. “Hurry up!” The banging continues, and you place the picture frame down, and you go to open the door.

He may be wearing a different mask, but you recognize his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Took you long enough.” He brushes past you and he takes up the whole room. He cranes his neck, walking everywhere and laying down on your couch, resting his head on a decorative pillow. “Your place sucks, by the way. I had some bitch offer to blow me for crack.”

You close the door behind you, securing the locks. You catch the look of disgust on his mask as he analyzes your home.

“How did you know where I live?” You ask hesitantly, your hands playing with the bottom of your shorts.

“Your boss,” he says casually, picking up a decorative statue on the end table. “All I had to do was throw money at him, and he gave me the address and-” he digs into his pocket, and pulls out a few condoms. They’re fisted into his hand, and without a care, he tosses them towards you. They scatter on the ground. You stare at the contraceptives, and back at him, your face growing warm. He clears his throat. “I’m here now, so you’re welcome or whatever.”

“Why-” your voice catches- “Why are you here, Adam?” His mask is emotive, a brief look of wide eyes is quickly replaced by a neutral look. “We just- You usually wait for like a week before and after Extermination Day, so- so what is this?”

He looks at you for a second. And then two. And then five, and when you squirm and look away from him, he snorts. “You could use better couches. You got a sweet puss, can’t you afford something better? Fuck, I know I’m paying way too much for you still to be living in this shithole.”

You’re fine with the comments being made during your line of work, but hearing it out loud in your home, makes everything feel so perverse. Your chest burns, the flames all consuming and making it harder to breathe. “It’s cozy,” you defend.

“It’s a fucking studio.”

“Well lucky for you, I am moving out.” He turns to you, and places his feet on the worn coffee table. “I uh- I went to the Hazbin Hotel.” You wish he didn’t show up. You’ve never had a client here, not in your personal home. “The princess allowed me to stay, so I’ll probably move out maybe in a few weeks?” You talk to fill the silence. Usually he can be so expressive with the mask, but now, he can’t get a read on him.. Is it because it’s a new mask? Because he hasn’t figured out the wiring or however the mask works? “I mean, it’s not like it matters to you. You don’t- You shouldn’t even be here.” You shake your head. “But um,” you clear your throat, “yeah.” You think you’d rather suck him off at this point than continue to talk.

“She’s letting you move in?” He sounds taken aback.

You shrug. “It took some convincing.” Your nails scratch along your thighs, and you can breathe a bit easier. “It was like she didn’t want me to. But I guess I looked pathetic enough that she felt bad for me.” You give a weak laugh. “But uh- They have a friend of mine- Angel- so he kinda helped, but even he seemed,” you pause, “weird about it.”

He’s silent. You shuffle your weight between each leg, and you think you’ve said too much. You open your mouth, trying to remedy the situation, but you’re interrupted.

“I’m hungry,” he tells you, grabbing at your remote and flipping through the channels.

You narrow your eyes in confusion. “Okay?”

“Make me something to eat.”

Every part of you is screaming to tell him to leave. To go back to Heaven- that there must be a price to pay for him visiting Hell for- for you. The thought of him visiting for you makes your heart beat against your ribs, drumming loudly behind the ivory cages. He’s visiting for leisure. That’s it. Not for you, but for fun. To annoy you- to annoy a resident of Hell.

But he’s made himself comfortable. And you hate to admit it- even to yourself- but you like the company. Even if said company is rather brutish.

“I’m making food because I’m hungry, not because you told me,” you huff, turning on your heel to walk to the adjacent kitchen.

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffs.

The plates sit empty, and the television is turned on. The program isn’t anything new, something you’ve seen countless times, same format, different people. It’s boring, and with the swell of your stomach from the savory meal you just had, you could fall asleep. You think you are falling asleep. Your eyes are heavy and your mind is filled with static and mothballs, far too thick for you to be aware as Adam lets his hand rest beside yours. The side of his finger touches yours, and you want to hold his hand.

“If you want to be redeemed, I could probably pull a few strings.” He doesn’t turn around, and you think you dreamt what he just told you. You look at him, and you don’t know if you heard him or not. He looks away from the television, and his hand stays beside yours.

“What?” You ask with sleep laced into your voice.

“I doubt Sera or Lute would be happy-” you recognize Lute, but you haven’t heard of Sera- “but whatever. They can go fuck themselves if they say anything.” He says the words quietly, held together as if they should have never been uttered, a prayer under the ceiling of your home, the yellow lights nothing like the sunlight from above.

“Are you-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat- “Are you being for real?”

“Why the fuck would I say it in the first place?” His wings flutter, feathers bristling against the worn couch. He sounds offended that you think he would say this. But what else are you meant to think?

“That’s-” your voice is soft, and filled with doubt and hurt. He turns to you, and he’s waiting and watching. “I can’t do that.” You shake your head. “That’s not fair to Angel. He’s been trying real hard-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice has lost the gentleness that it held before, the soft whisper is gone and replaced with something sharp and cold, and he looks at you through his mask.

You realize he hasn't removed it in all the time he’s been here.

“Angel- He’s making progress and he’s doing good despite-”

“The porn demon sucks cocks all day-”

“You don’t get to call him that,” you say defensively. “He does what he does because he has to. When you sell your soul, you don’t get to say no.” You pull your hand away from where it was, and you move away from him. “And if he’s the porn demon then what the fuck am I?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he sneers. You flinch at the words. “You’re a sinner. Take the fucking offer.” His mask glitches, and you wonder if it’s made of a cheaper grade. However, you doubt Adam would wear anything less than excellence. “We come down to slaughter you for funsies, and you’re telling me that because you feel bad for the porn demon you aren’t going to take the opportunity to be a winner?”

“It’s just-”

“You’re a Sinner,” he hisses out your name like it’s something grotesque on his tongue, his eyes narrowed and his wings curling behind him. “You don’t have to tough it out in the dirt like this. You could be living it up, we could be fucking on literal clouds.”

You look away. You forget your place. You forget that he visits not to spend time with you, but to fuck you. You’ve been used for as long as you can remember, and it hasn’t stopped. A part of you hoped that Adam wasn’t entirely like that. That one some deep, hidden, part of him, that he liked you as a Sinner, that he liked you. That perhaps because he was an angel, he had some decency in him.

“Adam,” you speak softly, your eyes fixating on a plate.

“What?”

“You’re being mean.” You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Meaner than usual.”

“I’m being honest.”

“You’re still being mean,” you tell him, shoulders raised and the food in your stomach churning.

He huffs. “I don’t know why you’d rather stay at this shithole. And then you’re going over to the princess’s hotel? Sinners are meant to stay down here. That bitch isn’t gonna save anyone.” His words are cold, and he hasn’t looked away from you. “You think you’re going to be redeemed?”

“Well-” you drag out, looking away from him. You aren’t sure. You want to believe that people can be redeemed, but a part of you knows that you’re only moving because it gets you free lodging. Rent isn’t cheap, and living in a hotel sounds fun.

“Let me give it to you straight,” he practically snarls. The venom in his voice is laid thick onto his words. “You aren’t.” His wings flap and the feathers prick themselves, the soft form they held, now rough and looking as if they were made for fighting rather than holding. “I’m giving you a chance to take the easy road and become an angel, but you’re too fucking dumb to even say yes.”

Your throat tightens, and your eyes burn with heavy tears. “I think you should leave.”

“Fuck you.” He grabs your wrist and you’re reminded that despite the physical appearance of him looking so man- he’s far more than that. “You think because I fuck you twice a year, that it makes you special?” His wings flare out, the golden feathers suddenly so cold. His voice is cold, and he presses his face closer to yours, teeth bared and a scowl ruining his pretty face.

Something awful twists at your stomach, nails piercing into your guts and innards, and leaving you filled with bile. “You quite literally asked me if I wanted to be redeemed,” you say quietly, spitting the words out. “Excuse me for thinking I’m so special.” The words are heavy and weak as they escape.

The eyes of the mask narrow, and his wings curl in, and you wonder just how powerful they are. “You’re a good fuck. That’s it. I get to rough you up, you beg for me.” His hand tightens around your wrist. “I’m offering it because it’s hard to find someone so fucking pathetic like you. Go to that hotel or don’t. Next extermination, I swear,” his words are filled with malice, “if I see you,” his nails dig into your skin, “I’ll be the one to-”

“The one to what?” You interject, your eyes glossy and voice wavering. “What? You’ll kill me? Fuck you, Adam. You- You come down here and act like you’re so much better than anyone else here-” you yank your hand back and clasp your other hand over the wrist- “well you aren’t.” Your chest rises and falls, your teeth bared in a desperate attempt to make yourself look dangerous. But with the tears in your eyes, and every fiber in your being begging you to run, to scream and hide away, you know you don’t even appear to be a threat.

You sit on the opposite end of the couch, holding your wrist, and trying not to cry. You can’t give him that satisfaction. But your legs bounce, and they won’t stop, no matter how much you try. You should have kicked him out before, you could have lied about having plans. You should have screamed for help- though you doubt your neighbors would actually do something about it.

“Why did you come here, Adam?” You ask, looking down at the ground. “We had something good going on.” You tuck your legs under yourself, biting at the inside of your cheeks, grimacing when you bite too harshly. “Even if I wanted to be a Winner, I wouldn’t- I’d be lost up there.”

He’s quiet for far too long and the rejection makes you close in on yourself.

“I wouldn’t kill you.” Your eyes glance over to him for a moment, but he’s turned his head the other way. “I didn’t mean it.” His hand goes to curve over where his usual horns are, but they flutter in the air, falling until they grasp onto the curved steel bone of his new mask. “You wouldn’t be lost,” he tells you, his face turned towards the wall in front of him. His voice is tight, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be telling you what he’s saying now. His wings flutter, gold shimmering in a wave. He clears his throat, and looks away. “A bunch of the angels are on the welcoming committee.”

“There’s a welcoming committee?”

“It’s fucking lame. We have some guy sing a song about how everyone in Heaven is hot, and he just flies around.” He sounds annoyed, the eyes of his mask forming a thin line of glowing dots, and you snort. “I’m telling you it’s fucking torture to listen to the damn song every time we get a new soul.” He waves his hand in the air, agitation light in his voice.

“When I arrived in Hell, it sucked.” He looks at you. You don’t like to talk about your arrival to Hell. Not to your friends, not to anyone. You hardly like to think about it yourself. “I uh-” you smile bitterly- “I was so upset. I was in hell. It was hot. The noises were loud. And I-” you stop, the feeling of loneliness making your body feel detached- “I was hungry.” You hadn’t realized just how loneliness was so consuming.

“What do you remember?” He probes.

You pause. You remember being terrified and alone; wanting someone to take you in their arms and tell you that you were safe; you remember wanting it all to be a dream. “I remember the pain of landing here.” You watch as his wings unfurl, one spilling over the armrest of your couch, the other careful to not smack you. It brushes against you, and you look at them memorized, the patterns of the feather delicacy etched upon him. “I think I’d take a song any day.” You remember taking jobs that you had never thought you’d ever take.

“Come ‘ere,” he tells you. You crawl towards him, and he touches you, his hands steady and holding you firmly as they situate you above him, letting you sit on his lap. The glowing eyes make your own look away, the gaze of him far too much, too empty and unclear for you to feel comfortable. You know your place. A pet for him when he wants it. Going to heaven would only further cement your place at the ground that he stands on. His hands grab yours and they guide you to the end of his mask. “Take it off.”

It’s a heavy mask. You wish you could examine it, even if you aren’t sure what any of it would mean, but you want to study it, to let your finger trace over the features. Your attention is pulled back to him, and you thin your lips.

He’s always been difficult to look at. His eyes are gold, shimmering and shining under your lights, how hair tousled and set from being confined in the mask, and you can’t stand to look at him. You close your eyes, and your hands ghost over his cheeks, tensing and choosing to rest over his clothed shoulders. Your lips meld, and your hands tighten over his shoulders. It’s soft, his stubble tickling your chin. You murmur his name, repeated when he kisses your neck, his name muttered like a prayer, your hands clawing and grasping at him. You shut your eyes, your body curling into his touch, lips desperate to find his again. You need him. You crave him. You wish he’d stop grabbing at your skin, but every touch is feverish, flaming your body more than it already has.

You kiss him with want. You kiss him like you’re alone all over again, wanting to commit him to memory.

Your eyes grow heavier, sleep wrapping itself around you like a warm blanket, or perhaps it’s his wing, curled around you, spilling over your body and your sofa. Each blink grows longer, and you nestle to the side of him, clinging to his warmth. “When are you moving to the hotel?” His voice is soft, the tips of his hands scratching up and down your arm. You mumble your answer, letting your eyes come to a close. “The hotel fucking sucks. The whole idea of it does. It's like she wants you to die.” Your brows furrow with each passing word. The words are lost on you, your mind too foggy with sleep to pick apart the words and piece the clues together. “Lilith’s brat is only setting you up for failure.”

“‘M used to it,” you mumble. “‘S no big deal, Ads.” You wish he’d stop talking. You’re tired, can’t he hear it in your voice?

“It’s fucking dumb,” he spits.

“Adam,” you whine, your legs tensing and squeezing around his own, “‘M tired.” You feel the gust of his wings, a ghost of a touch making your skin prick in chills.

“Stop talking.” His feathers are soft, and you always forget just how they feel despite touching them quite a few times. They curl around you, a heavy blanket or warmth, the soft hints of cologne and musk envelop you, and he’s soft under you, tender and gentle, his hands tracking into your skin, invisible tattoos kissed onto you. “I can do whatever I want in Heaven.”

“Mhm, sounds great,” you whisper, your body heavy above his, limp with sleep and full with sin and unknowing.

You're pulled closer to him, and you welcome his warmth and his comfort. “Even if you don't want to be redeemed, you can stay up there. I'll have you taken care of. No one would say shit.”

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #i think he'd be like weirdly possessive of a partner #but not really weirdly because like both of his past partners or wives like left him #so he's like wanting to keep reader on like a leash #he got attached #and thats his like curse #to want and never really have it returned #i wanna write one where Adam's angel s/o falls and like lucifer has fallen #so he's there #and Adam can't visit without like suspicions arising #so he watches as lucifer and his partner #he doesn't think they're broken up and s/o is too distraught to even think about anything other than pain #get closer and hes like no!!#not another one!!#and lucifer is still depressed #but he likes knowing that he's not alone #and sure the other sins are there #but like its different for reasons #but idk #I think I would the story with like either a v poly #adam #or luci

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mothwingwritings · 4 months

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Frohe Weihnachten

Boyfriend To Death Strade X F! Reader X Ren

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! By some miracle of the holiday season I have arrived and even wrote something, even if it is random and I struggled to get finished before Christmas. But I did it and now I offer it to you humbly as a lil gift.

This month has unfortunately bad. All the bad had me looking for distractions to keep me from the gloom, and the search for distractions lead me to replaying Boyfriend To Death 1, and replaying BTD made me start Boyfriend to Death 2, and well… Here we are. It’s been one of the few things I could focus on that brought me joy this month (what that says about my mental health we will leave up to interpretation loooooool :)), so I decided to try my hand at writing something for it. It proved to be a fun challenge, and I am hoping to do some more BTD stuff in the future. :3

ANYWAY here is a Strade-centric fic (Ren is there too, though) I churned out amidst the December bs. He’s spoiling you in it which isn’t really a good thing for you. I hope I did him justice. He is a very nuanced guy and I had a lot of fun writing this. I can slowly feel god awful, horrible men becoming my forte , and at this point I am just embracing it.

Please be mindful that BTD and BTD2 are adult games, so even though there is no explicit NSFW in this fic, it is for 18+ only just as its source material is. No one under the age of 18 should be reading this, thank you!

WARNINGS: Torture, stabbing, blood, degradation, forced stripping, pet play, mentions of rape/noncon, Strade is filming a snuff film and though you are a part of it, you are not the one being snuffed (congrats!), severing of body parts, nonconsensual filming and touching, kidnapping, imprisonment, butchered German (my highschool German teacher is crying somewhere) and probs some shoddy editing (sorry for the rush!).

Staring down at the gifts laid out before you, a thin layer of sweat began to coat your body.

It wasn’t so much that the boxes wrapped in vibrant, pretty, paper were that unnatural (it was Christmas day, after all) so much as it was shocking that you had received them at all, given the circumstances.

This was your first Christmas away from home, the first holiday season spent without the company of your friends and family, and their absence felt like a swift punch in the gut. None of the old traditions and celebrations you were accustomed to partaking in were around to bring you comfort this year, the laid back, pleasant atmosphere that typically encapsulated Christmas was nowhere to be found. Any jolly vibe was replaced by discomfort, apprehension, and a festering disquiet that permeated the air, killing any and all fun normal for this day.

Across from the looming assortment of gifts, each wrapped in varying degrees of expertise, sat your captor Strade, and parked next to him was your fellow captive Ren. Both sets of eyes were drinking you in with great interest, the out-of-place youthful enthusiasm reflecting back at you doing little to quell your mounting anxiety. You shifted nervously in your seat, trying your best to remain calm. You had no idea what manner of sick surprise awaited you in those packages, all you knew was that you were dreading opening them, especially with these two watching. Thinking of what the wrong reaction to their presents may illicit was more stress inducing than the gifts themselves, which already made you feel like you were developing a hernia.

“Well, go ahead,” Strade was the first to speak, his lazy drawl and splayed out body contradicting heavily with the frenzied look in his eye, “What are you waiting for?”

Ren nodded beside him eagerly, “Go ahead, (name)! I opened mine earlier because I was too excited to wait,” he chuckled a little, a small, bashful blush illuminating his cheeks, “And um, there’s a few for you in there from me so… I hope you like them.”

Your eyes traveled from the men, down to the presents. You swallowed thickly, overwhelmed by their façade of innocence, violated by their unblinking stares.

“I-I’m sorry, I just um… Wasn’t really expecting… this…”

It wasn’t a lie, the last thing you could have predicted was a present, let alone multiple. You figured maybe Ren would get you something (he had the luxury of internet access, something you were yet to be trusted with), but it wasn’t even within the realm of fantasy that you may receive anything from Strade. The only thing you dared hope for was a small reprieve from the abuse he inflicted daily, but even that seemed too farfetched to hope for.

“Well, I say you deserve it,” Strade spoke, the calm cadence of his voice still clashing with the gleam in his eye, “what’s Christmas without presents, after all? So go ahead, open them.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally reaching a shaky hand towards the closet gift on the table. Your body was moving mechanically, and though your fear was palpable, you forced your demeanor to remain composed as you pulled the small box into your lap. Your fingers carefully tore through the thin paper, dreading revealing the mystery that shiny paper shielded you from.

And as the paper fell away piece by piece, you were shocked to find that the box contained… slippers.

You stared at them for a moment, dumbfounded. Of all the things in the world that could have been waiting inside that box, to receive something so innocuous and normal was beyond perplexing.

And the gifts continued this way. You unwrapped package after package of clothing, perfumes and toiletries, stuffed animals and snacks. Each new item bewildered you just as much as the last, leaving you feeling like all this was just the lead up of a joke, one you felt like you were the punch line for.

As if the gifts themselves weren’t mind boggling enough, the quantity and quality of them were just as shocking. Brand names and fancy, high end packaging stared back at you with nearly each ripped wrapping, a small slap in the face with each revelation.

It left a pit in your stomach. Not even your own parents would gift you some of these things, so why were you being treated this way by a homicidal maniac and his companion? To make matters even worse, most of the gift you actually liked. Definite thought was put into each present, unnerving you most of all. You didn’t want them to know your likes and dislikes, and you certainly didn’t want them to be so familiar with you that they could easily pick out things you may desire. It felt borderline offensive that they were able to peg you so well, like you had been wrenched open and all the hidden parts of yourself you had been hiding had been forced out in the open, secrets uncovered you wished to remain hidden.

Heebie jeebies aside, such normalcy left you scratching your head. You had an intense urge to inspect each and every item to make sure the clothes weren’t secretly lined with razors, or the stuffed animals weren’t just cute ways to conceal knives, but you contained yourself. No use in setting them off when things were going surprisingly well.

You kept yourself neutral as you thanked them, neither over eager or ungrateful as you graciously accepted the offerings. Ren beamed in recognition each time you mentioned him, delighted by the simplest praise. Strade remained nonchalant, leaning back as he leered at you with that unnerving smile he always so proudly donned on his face.

When the present pile had come to an end, an overwhelming sense of relief washed over you. You felt like you had made it out of a vary harrowing journey without so much as a scratch, and felt quite accomplished for doing so.

However, before you could feel the weight truly lifted from your shoulders, any sense of triumph quickly flew out the door as Strade slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His beady eyes drilled holes through you, delighting in the apprehension his subtle shift caused you. Your blood turned to ice as he gave you a lopsided grin, his words coming out drawn out and slow, as if he were speaking to a child.

“Myyy look at that,” he sneered, “so many nice things for our (Name)! She must have some very generous admirers. It’s obvious she’s the favorite, not a single one of those boxes were for you or me, Ren!”

The weight of your situation suddenly crashed down around you. Of course these gifts wouldn’t come without some horrible caveat-you were an idiot for even thinking you would get away with this scot free.

You tried to calm yourself with the fact that Strade most likely wouldn’t go through all the hassle of spending all this money on someone he planned to kill shortly after. What would be the point? But that thought birthed an even worse fear, the expectation of getting something back in return. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you would be able to provide him a physical gift, a fact Strade was intimately aware of. That left you with one option- he was looking for reciprocation through different means.

You swallowed hard, your hands shaking as you clasped them in your lap, struggling with how to word the imminent question you had.

“Do you want… I mean, should I get you something in return?”

You hated how small your voice sounded, dreading the response your words may garner. A shiver rocked you as the smile on Strade’s face spread, his arms spreading out in a dramatic shrug as he shook his head with a laugh.

“No no, please! The only thing I want in return is for you to thoroughly enjoy your gifts, nothing else is needed. Your delight is a gift in and of itself.”

His words did little to help your dwindling nerves. A sudden harsh clap of his hands made your heart skip a beat, his body pivoting to face Ren with a sadistic smile.

“I almost forgot,” he exclaimed, his voice taking a dangerous edge, “we have one more very special surprise for our girl, don’t we?”

Your attention darted to Ren, hoping for a sign of assurance from him. The beatskin started to squirm a bit in his seat, pulling nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. He looked over at you with lidded eyes, a dangerous gleam in them that you knew was a terrible precursor of the pain to come.

Ren’s breathing had grown unsteady, the blush that had engulfed his face becoming so vibrant you could almost feel its heat from where you sat. While there was nervousness to his demeanor, he couldn’t quite mask the hints of his exhilaration from peeking through. The guileless enthusiasm was hard to face, causing you to avert your gaze, your heart sinking deeper. Ren was no saint himself, but he was all you had in this hell that masqueraded as a normal, middle class home. He was supposed to have your back (and often times did) in moments like these, but it appeared his demons won this round. The thrill radiating from him over your oncoming misery was perceptible. You were on your own with whatever lay ahead.

With a jerk of Strades head, Ren bounded off the couch to another room, the sound of subtle clanging reaching your ears as he dug around out of sight. You careened your body, hoping to maybe get a peek of whatever the hell Ren had ran so jubilantly to acquire, but you immediately stopped once you heard a chuckle rumble from Strade’s chest.

“My my~,” he purred, the sound causing an instinctive shiver, “so eager this morning (name)! I can only hope you keep that up once you see what the surprise actually is, hm?”

Before you had a chance to respond, Ren barreled back into the room, slightly out of breath and clutching some sort of metallic, chain linked contraption in is hand.

“Sorry,” he lightly huffed, handing the item in question to Strade, “I hid it really well so it took a moment to get.”

Once it was in his grasp, Strade turned to you, holding out the item so you could finally view it in all its glory.

It was a new collar-a dog training collar, to be precise. This one however had been modified, the spikes lining the interior of the collar, while typically coated with a thick, squishy plastic to as not to hurt the dog in their training stage, were missing their protection. The metal nubs that the plastic encased were also typically dull and rounded on most training collars, meant to poke and prod instead of maim and hurt. You would not be getting that manner of gentle encouragement it seemed, your body tensing as you stared at each harshly pointed spike. The needle like protrusions glistened so brilliantly in the overhead light it almost appeared as if the collar was made of diamonds.

You sat perfectly still, in a complete daze as Strade approached you and swiftly released the thick electric collar from around your neck. The cool air hit your sweat drenched flesh, giving you a chill. While it was nice to be without the weight of that vile contraption, the freedom was only momentary as he clasped your new chain links into place across your throat. Though it was much more delicate than your previous collar, for some reason it felt much heavier than its bulky electric counterpart.

You winced as he gave the leash a small pull, grinning when a sharp, shocked cry fell past your lips. The needles hadn’t broken the skin yet, but the action did make you become keenly aware of just much damage they could cause with very minimal effort. The delicate nature of your current standing was looking bleaker with each passing second, uncontrollable shivers wracking your body as you eyed Strade fiddling carelessly with your leash. He seemed pleased by the attention his minor ministrations were awarding him, humored by the pain he could bring you with a mere flick of his wrist.

“I-it looks pretty on you, (Name),” Ren stuttered, a nervous smile complimenting the red of his cheeks, “Kind of dainty, like a fancy necklace. It really suits you.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” Strade jeered, fingering the chains that hung heavy around your neck, “I considered one for you too Ren, I didn’t want to make you jealous, you know? But then I figured hell, if I get this for (Name) Ren’ll probably enjoy this just as much as I do, so it’s already a two for one deal.”

Giving your cheek a few mild slaps, Strade turned his gaze towards Ren, “I trust that you’ll take good care of (Name) if I’m ever out and about and you want to have some special fun with her. A little pet time for my pet would do him some good, I think.”

The flippant insinuation made bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Now,” Strade pulled tighter on the leash, prompting you to rise to your feet and stand before the men. He lifted the chain above his head, laughing as you rose to tiptoes to avoid gouging your neck, “What do we say after we receive such a nice present, hmmm~?”

“Thank you,” you choked the words through your indignation, the spikes scratching uncomfortably against your skin as you did so. After several seconds of your balancing act, Strade lowered his hand, granting you the ability to stand normally. You released the breath you were holding, thankful that for at least this moment, you escaped agony.

“So ein gutes Mädchen für mich,” he cooed condescendingly, patting your head as if you were an actual dog, “you are really making me proud! But the fun isn’t over yet, in fact, this is just the first part of your special surprise,” his eyes widened at your obvious despair, “Aren’t you lucky?”

Without further ado he stomped past you, leash gripped tightly in his hand as he led your further into the house. While there was more leeway to the leash than anticipated, you still hustled to follow after him, fearful of the barbs encircling your throat. His whistled as he walked, his demeanor so exuberant that for a moment you felt he might start skipping. Ren trailed behind you, following closely in your footsteps.

It didn’t take long for you to catch on to where you were headed. As you came to stop before the thick, iron door that separated the rest of the house from the hell-hole that was the basement, tidal wave of fear washed over you. Strade took a deep breath, relishing all that was too come, immersed in the anticipation he was undoubtedly feeling. He turned to you and smiled, and you fought to keep a grip on your sanity. Feeling feint, your eyes flicked from him, back to the imposing door. Your heart was banging so violently in your chest from the sheer amount of terror that was coursing through your veins that you worried you may pass out.

How many people had met cruel, agonizing fates down those stairs? How many gallons of blood had dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, snaked through the drains? How many anguished screams had reverberated off those sound proof walls?

You began to panic as Strade opened the door with ease, wasting no time making his way down. You hadn’t been to the basement since Strade had kidnapped you many months ago and you had hoped it would be a place that you never found yourself in again. It relieved you when Strade had forbid you and Ren from stepping foot down there, one of the few orders he gave that you were actually happy to oblige. Strade only took people to the basement for one reason and one reason only, and the fact that he was so pleasantly dragging you down there right now did not bode well for you in the slightest.

“W-wait,” you called out nervously, grabbing at the chain leash in an attempt to stop his descent. “W-why are we going down here?”

“Because it’s where the rest of your present is,” he answered as if it were obvious, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he shot you a pointed look, “Now come on.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle touch on your shoulder stopped you.

“It’s ok, (Name),” Ren’s voice sounded softly in your ear. You could tell he was doing his best to sound reassuring. “We are allowed down there today, Strade said we could as a special treat for Christmas. It’s OK, I promise,” he gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before planting a fleeting kiss to your cheek, “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

His words did little to assuage the overwhelming terror you were feeling, sinking its claws deep in your battered soul, holding you in a death grip. You were past the point of a panic attack, now fearing a heart attack may be what does you in. At this point you wondered if that would be a mercy over whatever awaited you down there.

Forced breathes rattled from your lungs, erratic and strained as you stared into Strade’s expectant eyes, knowing his patience was rapidly diminishing. As much as you wanted to get whatever was coming over with, your legs lost the ability to move, your body denying every command your brain was giving to take the first step.

Hesitating a moment too long elicited a brutal tug from Strade, effectively ending your indecision as you were sent tumbling down after him. You whimpered as you felt the barbs of the collar tear into your flesh. Small rivulets of blood snaked from each fresh wound, dripping down your shoulders, back, and chest to strain the collar of your shirt. As a rare act of mercy, Strade caught you, his thick arm acting as a barrier between you and the concrete you were plummeting head first towards. For once you were thankful to be within the monster’s grasp, a sore chest and aching shoulder from where he grabbed you were far better than any injury you would have attained from the fall.

Consumed by a rush of adrenaline from the tumble, you neglected to realize your hands had latched to Strade’s arm like a lifeline. Embarrassment flooded you, quickly prompting you to release your hold on him. He laughed at the flush on your cheeks, your body jostling along with the rumble of his chest. His hand relinquished its grip on your shoulder, leaving behind angry red fingerprints, as if he had seared your flesh with a mere touch. His newly freed hand moved to tangle itself in your hair, eliciting a whimper as his nails dug into your scalp. Each place his body made contact with yours felt like it was burning.

Without warning, he roughly brought the side of your head to his lips, the stubble of his cheeks scratching your skin as he smashed his face against yours, taking in a deep breath. Excited puffs of breath tickled your ear as he spoke.

“Hurry up now,” his voice was gruff, but the words came out in a sing-song manner, “Don’t start misbehaving now, it would be a total bummer if you had to miss out on this, (Name)~”

With a wistful sigh he released his hold, leaving your momentarily reeling as you stumbled back, trying to reclaim your baring’s. Strade didn’t give much of a chance to do so, continuing on his way with another yank of the leash, forcing you to scramble after him once more.

Your body gave an involuntary shiver as your feet touched the chilly concrete floor. Strade flipped the lights, causing you to recoil at the sudden brightness. Your eyes grew watery as they struggled to adjust, but when they finally did you wished more than ever you could have just remained in the dark.

Though you hadn’t been in the basement since the week of your capture, everything was just as you remembered it. Horrible memories flooded your mind as you took in your surroundings, your brain assaulted by flashbacks of months prior. All the same home appliances and tools still lined the back wall, typically innocent devices most people used for repair jobs and building projects that no one would take a second glance at were this a normal basement. In Strades hands however, they became tools of destruction and torment, capable of the vilest atrocities.

You heard the loud whirring of the freezer off to the side before you saw it, the outdated device still valiantly chugging away as it preserved god knows what on its rickety inner shelves. The noise it spewed was so grating you wondered why he didn’t just replace the damn thing, or at least try and fix it. Near it stood the work table that housed his buzzsaw, looming ominously as it waited patiently for its next use (whether that be for flesh or for wood, who was to say?).

Witnessing these normally mundane items again made your chest hurt, a deep, indescribable level of horror spreading through every inch of your body as you struggled to reacclimate yourself. You were sure this place would haunt you as long as you lived, whether you stood in it or not didn’t matter.

Your throat went dry as you stared at the dark stains that littered the floor, remnants of various human’s bodily fluids. Blood, vomit, piss, and everything else that may leak from a human corpse was so continuous and abundant that there was no hope of the marks ever diminishing. Something told you Strade didn’t seem to mind, however. If anything, seeing those stains probably brought him some level of happiness, acting as pleasant little reminders of all the slaughter he had committed, a trophy for the lives he had stolen.

And there, smack dab in the middle of the basement stood the support beam he had tied you to, effectively barring your escape from this place. Witnessing it again was bad enough, but as your eyes locked onto it your heart started racing once more, your terror hitting unprecedented levels at the realization that there was a body there, tied up and trapped just as you once were.

At first you thought maybe you were hallucinating, seeing some phantom version of yourself your mind had conjured under the extreme stress you were facing. But as you continued to stare, noticing the slight rise and fall of their chest, hearing the small wheezes coming from their direction with each motion, it became apparent they were no figment of your imagination. Long hair fell from their slumped head, obscuring your vision of their face, but judging by what you could see of their body they looked to be around your age, similar to your build. You couldn’t help but wonder if you shared other features, had the same eye color, or maybe a similar facial structure.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Strade picked them because they reminded him of you.

Witnessing another human in this state made your stomach turn. It wasn’t so long ago that you were in that exact situation, and seeing them there helpless and oblivious to what lay before them filled you with the distressing urge to try and rescue them. If you could only run to them, untie their bindings and embrace them, let them know you were there for them and that they would be ok… Stupidly wisheful thinking, but maybe a miracle could still happen and that sweet lie would come true…

You shook your head slightly, dispelling the thought. No, it was all a tragic pipe dream, the fact they were here meant they were as good as dead and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do to stop that.

“Hey!”

Strade barked, breaking you from the spell you were under. You jumped to attention, your wide eyes turning to him to give him your full attention. His scowl lessened at your recognition, “I know it’s all very exciting (Name), but pay attention when I am talking to you, alright?”

“Sorry,” your mouth barely formed the word, spitting it out so fast you wondered if it was even understandable. You were still in shock from being in such a terrible place, your brain lost in a fog as it struggled to comprehend why you were here, what Strade wanted of you, who that person on the floor was, and if you would make it through the day.

He sighed before stepping closer to you, irritation still lingering in his features. You fought every urge telling you to bolt, your body jolting as he gently patted your cheeks. After a few soft pats to garner your attention his strong hands continued to cup your cheeks, cradling your face in his palms. His skin was warm, the sweat from his hand moistening your skin as his thumb traced absentminded circles across scars he had created.

“Strip.”

The command didn’t register at first, making him lose patience. As you stood stock still his brows began to knit, foot tapping a bit as he waited for you to comply. After several seconds of inactivity on your end, he snapped his fingers in realization, his expression relaxing as something donned on him.

“Oh wait, it’s probably hard with the collar, right? Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.”

From an unseen back holster, he brandished an imposing hunting knife, one that you would remember anywhere. It was the same one he tormented you the day he met you, the feel of it on your skin seared into your memory for all eternity. It had done a brilliant job keeping you at bay when he first imprisoned you, serving him well as the main tool that broke you.

Seeing it again was all too overwhelming, all too horribly familiar. Your body quaked, tears starting to flood your eyes, making your vision waver. Your lips moved, your throat struggling to speak, fighting to come up with something, anything that may stop him from using it on you. But ultimately there was nothing you could force out, so you just stood there blankly, flapping your lips in a failed attempt at self-preservation.

“What’s wrong?” Strade pouted, pulling at your collar, forcing you closer to him. You could barely feel the pain through your terror. “If you have something to say, you should say it. Or are you just so thrilled by all this that you can’t form a coherent thought,” he tutted, “Ah, I know the feeling well (Name), but don’t suddenly go mute on me! I want to fully enjoy all of your reactions, so don’t hold back. Think of it as your gift to me.” You shivered as he placed the knife under your shirt, cutting away haphazardly at the thin fabric, uncaring that he was nicking your flesh in the process.

With his body so near, the only sound you could focus on was Strade’s labored, rasping breathes as they rattled from his throat. He blithely ripped what was left of your clothing from your body, leaving it discarded in torn heaps on the ground. Thankfully he spared your underwear, but as his fingers languidly played with the strap of your bra, you wondered if he wouldn’t also reconsider letting you keep what remained of your decency.

“Tonight will be so good, meine Haustier,” his voice sounded hoarse, thick with anticipation as he hovered over you, nuzzling his face into your hair, “… This reminds me a lot of the night I brought you home. Maybe I am just feeling nostalgic, having you down here with me again, but it’s hard not to get wrapped up in such fond memories.”

He chuckled, “I’m thankful I was able to reel myself in back then and keep you, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise.” He pointed his knife to the unconscious body on the floor, “This one I brought here today won’t be nearly as fun as you were, so I don’t want you to feel jealous, alright? You’re where you are for a reason, just as they are where they are for a reason. Mein Liebchen, I’m so glad I can share this moment with you...”

He pressed in closer to you, an unmistakable bulge in his pants grazing the exposed flesh of your leg as he did so. You both shuddered at the brief contact, though his reaction was for reasons far different than your own.

“This intimacy is nice, don’t you think? Sharing your passions with those close to you is what meaningful relationships are allllll about.”

He pulled away from you slightly, pressing the blade of his knife under your chin. Wincing at the briefest of contact with the blade, you raised your head to avoid slicing of your chin, stopping once you were eye to eye with Strade. Your noses nearly touched as he took in the features of your face, smiling at the sheer horror reflected in your eyes.

“And I want to remind you just how passionate I can be~”

He spun you around, giving you an abrupt shove. Unable to keep your balance you fell forward, your knees colliding with the stony floor. A hiss of pain slipped past your lips at the contact as Strade kneeled down next to you, tangling his fingers once more in your hair. With a sharp yank, he pulled your head up, directing your attention to the far corner of the room.

With his guidance, your gaze landed on something new. A cage you couldn’t recall ever seeing filled your took up a sizable chunk of the side wall, making you wonder how you missed see it to begin with. How he got such an unwieldy contraption down the stairs previously without your notice was also lost on you. The thing looked far too heavy for one person to easily transport, even if it came in pieces.

It looked incredibly sturdy, each side comprised of thick, imposing iron bars. The cage was moderately sized- large enough for people to sit in, but not so large that it would be a comfortable arrangement. At a glance, it seemed to be made for a dog, but the girth of the bars and thick padlock on the door were completely unnecessary features for a canine, even the largest and most aggressive dog breeds wouldn’t need something so robust to keep them contained. Strade must have had it special made, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was made for. You clenched your fists, fighting the queasiness that this new facet of the day brought to the table. You knew the cage shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but you couldn’t help but be a bit addled by it. You briefly wondered if there was a limit to how much he would spend to fuel his sick intentions.

The cage sat off to the side, out of the way of the main walkway and slightly hidden behind the stairs so that it wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was still close enough to the rest of the rooms fixtures that anyone trapped inside would have a clear view or what was happening around them. Which you figured was the point. What better seat for an unwilling audience?

“I originally bought this for Ren, but he was much easier to house train then you were.” Strade laughed, removing his hand from your hair to clap you on the shoulder. He turned his gaze to Ren who stood by the cage expectantly, waiting to fulfill his role in the nights unfolding misery. “Why don’t you show her inside, Ren? Get yourselves all comfy for the show.”

With a quick nod, Ren scampered in before you, giving you just enough room to squeeze in beside him. Nestling in, he turned to you with a strange mix of fear and anticipation in his eyes, patting the area next to you with a small smile on his lips.

“Come in, (Name),” he looked up at you through his lashes, bashful despite the situation he willingly crawled into, “There’s plenty of room.”

Strade gave you no opportunity to refute his invitation, dragging you along the floor by the collar until you arrived at the cages entrance. You gagged as the spikes dug into your flesh, your fingers attempting to find purchase and pull them out. But your grip kept slipping, the blood that coated each metallic link making it impossible to pry away.

At the entrance, Strade quickly unlatched your adjoining leash, pushing the side of his foot against your ass to shove you into the cage, treating you much the same way you would a misbehaving dog. He slammed the door behind you the moment your limbs were barely through the door, preventing you from backtracking. He hastily secured the huge padlock after he did so, effectively trapping you and Ren inside.

“I know you’ll watch, but I can’t trust her,” Strade spoke to Ren, kneeling down so that he was eye level with the two of you, “Latch her collar to the top bar, I want her focused.”

Ren was quick to follow orders, contorting himself around you so he could bind you to the cage. Part of you hoped he would show mercy, sneakily attaching the collar to a lower bar on the cage to give you more breathing room. As you felt the spikes dig farther into your skin that dream dashed from your mind. You choked back a sob as you heard the clasp click into place behind you, Ren planting a fleeting kiss to the top of your head as he did so, his way of begging forgiveness for the pain he was helping inflict

Sitting with your back completely straight, you kept your legs tucked under you, the full weight of your body supported by your knees. The slightest bit of slouching, leaning, or turning your head would plunge the spikes into your already torn up neck, amplifying your suffering. Locked into place, you were left with no choice but to sit at attention.

Maybe you could have unclasped the collar yourself for a bit of reprieve, you were sure after some blind fumbling you could figure out how to free yourself. But stuck behind a formidable lock with Strade on the other side, what would be the point? There was no place for you to run to, and if you disobeyed Strade at this point you were a sitting duck. A heavy sense of resignation settled in your soul. You no longer fought the tears that came to your eyes, letting them freely dribble down your checks to land in soft drops on your lap.

With no hope of escape, that left you with one option to get through this-endure.

“Überraschung,” Strade exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he stared down at you with wild, manic eyes. “What a sight this is! I must say (Name), even though your overall your obedience has improved, you still have quite the rebellious streak, don’t you?” He leaned down to get a better view of you, breathing deeply as his face began turning red from excitement, “Not that I don’t like when you get feisty, training and domesticating wild animals is something I take great pleasure in after all. But I have to say, seeing you like this?” He released an elongated, low whistle. “Schön. Keeping you has been worth it for moments like this. You really are a treat, behavioral issues and all.”

He exhaled as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes never once leaving yours. “This is good, natural even. You belong here, (Name). Chained up like that… You’re right where you are supposed to be.”

His words were shaky, his composure slipping as his tongue trailed his bottom lip. The flush of his cheeks was now also creeping down his neck, ardent lust seeping from his expression. You shivered. Were it not for these bars separating you, you loathed to think what atrocities he would commit against you in this amped up state.

You bit back the retort that threatened to spill from your quivering jaw, biting so hard on your bottom lip you tasted blood. You hated him, loathed him with your entirety, but you also understood that one misspoken word was all it would take for you to be swapped with whatever unfortunate soul was tied to that pole. Despite it all, you still wanted to live. Clinging to the hope that someday you would get the chance to leave this place behind and return to the life that was stolen from you.

Making your freedom a reality was your daily affirmation you repeated to yourself, the one thing that truly kept you going. You made a promise to yourself that Strade would someday turn into nothing more than a horrible nightmare, a dirty smear in your past, and you very much intended to keep that promise. You would someday live out the rest of your life happy and safe, surrounded by friends and family, people you loved and who would love you in turn. Maybe you would even get married, have a kid or two.

Part of you knew thinking that way was foolish, and it usually caused you more despair than bringing you any true peace. But even if it was a silly dream, it was all you had. Strade has already stolen everything else, so you clung to your dream as your only salvation, relying on it as a means of survival.

You had to make it through this, you had to get away and rebuild yourself from the shattered pieces Strade had broken you into. Not just for yourself, but for everyone he had ever murdered and brutalized. It was the only way you could beat him. It was the only way you could win.

“Well, no point in making any of us wait any longer,” Strade announced as he turned on his heel, making his way over to the slumped form in the center of the room. Your heart went out to them as he directed his full attention their way, staring down at them with a crazed, bloodthirsty smile. “This is pretty new for me too, ya know? Usually this is ‘me’ time, moments I can work and enjoy myself with the new friends I bring in in peace. But having a live audience? That’s sure gonna add some thrill to this.”

He turned his attention back towards you and Ren, his face glowing in excitement. “And I figured what the hell! It’s Christmas, right? Why be greedy when I can share in the celebration! Ren already loves watching my little home movies, so I thought, ‘why not do a special live performance for my two favorite individuals?’”

Your body lurched in horror as Strade abruptly kicked his hostage square in the stomach, the force of it waking them with an agonized groan. You gasped as they coughed in pain, spit and blood sputtering from their mouth as slowly they came to. You watched on in morbid silence, a frown spreading across your lips when as you noticed the dawning horror that came over them. They were no longer in an ignorant fog of sleep, fully aware now that something truly dreadful was about to happen to them.

Terrified recognition filled their eyes when they landed on Strade. Instantly they started to cry, whimper and plead, leaving you to wonder just how badly things went down between the two of them before you all ended up down here.

Trembles wracked your body, each quiver faintly clanging the metal of your collar against the cage. How you yearned to deafen your ears, gouge out your eyes, or will yourself away from what was unfolding before you. The mere thought of witnessing the oncoming torture, reliving your own capture through this doomed sod… it was all too much. If given the opportunity, you would have done anything to flee and hide.

But there was no running from this. You couldn’t turn away. You couldn’t do anything at all.

“Hey buddy, calm down!” Strade spoke in a light hearted manner, invading the captive’s personal space as he crouched down in front of them. “Don’t you know it’s Christmas? Since you were looking so sad all alone at that bar last night I decided to play the role of Santa and give you a little gift! I took you in out of the goodness of my heart, because no one deserves to be alone on the holiday, right? And look,” He roughly grabbed their chin, forcing their tear stained face towards your cage, “I even brought friends to assure you wouldn’t be lonely! Pretty thoughtful of me, huh?”

You averted your stare as soon as they made eye contact, unable to stand the sheer hopelessness reflected in their forlorn gaze. Their whimpering and pleading continued, unfettered by the dialogue Strade was droning on. The desperation in their voice as they tried to reason with the most unreasonable man on the planet was making your skin crawl, irritation setting your face into a scowl. Couldn’t they see how amped up Strade was? Were they really so deluded to think their incessant begging would do them any favors? Did they not realize their cries were just exciting him more?

Eventually, you squeezed your eyes closed, wanting a break from it all even for a few seconds. Their naivety was driving you insane- a cruel reminder of the person you once were.

Suddenly, an ear splitting scream pieced the air, causing your eyes to fly open. The blood in your veins turned to ice as you saw Strade’s signature knife protruding from the captive’s leg, his hand still wrapped firmly around the handle, wriggling it further into their meat. The blade was buried deep, deep enough to cause true damage, and the blood that gushed from the new wound quickly gathered in a morbid puddle beneath their legs. If left unattended, you were sure they may bleed out, dying in slow agony.

“Oops, maybe I went a bit too deep there,” Strade nonchalantly spoke, pulling the knife carelessly from their leg. They released another sharp cry at the blades exit, squirming in pain and misery as blood sputtered from the gash. Strade continued to speak, unfettered by the gore that splashed against his leg, “But you weren’t listening very well when I was trying to talk earlier, so hopefully that’ll help you focus. I’ll try and be more mindful though, don’t wanna do too much too soon. You’re the star of the show today buddy, can’t have you dipping out on us before we even get started.”

Strade cut a piece of fabric from their victim’s shirt, tying it sloppily around the gaping wound he inflicted. It wasn’t placed as a means to help them so much as a way to help staunch the bleeding to keep them lucid for as long as possible. If there was one thing Strade hated, it was his fun being prematurely cut short.

“Well,” Strade slapped his knees, lifting himself up to his full height, “Usually I like to get to know you a little better before we get to this point, but what with my special guests and all, we don’t have as much time as I would have liked to become acquainted.”

Your eyes trailed Strade as he walked over to a tripod sitting off to the side. Your eyes widened as he reached for it, setting it up with skilled expertise as he had done so many times before. His captive stared blankly at the camera, clearly confused as to what awaited them. You couldn’t decide if their ignorance was a tragedy or a godsend. If they knew this was their final moment of relative peace before their violent end… Would they try an appreciate it, or would that just bring them more dismay?

After the main camera was set up to his liking, he made his way towards you and Ren. You stiffened at he approached, a new spike of anxiety rising within you as he fiddled with something in his pocket. It was your turn for confusion now, staring in perplexion as he pulled out another small camera, setting it up so that it faced your cage. After some finagling to get it just right, the small red light on it turned green.

“There we go,” Strade smiled, tying his signature bandana around his mouth after he completed his setup, his wide eyes gleaming with cruel intent, “Figured the viewers at home deserved a little special something, too. Smile for the camera you two!”

Shame flushed your exposed body as you did all you could to avoid looking into the camera’s nebulous, black lens. You curled yourself up as much as physically possible, revolted by the realization that other sickos were tuning in, getting off to an impending murder and your humiliation. How many people were on the other side of that small orb, desperately waiting for Strade to begin so they could scratch their fucked up itch? How many pairs of eyes were roving over your barely clothed, bloody body right now, pleased for such an enticing appetizer before they dug into the main course? You didn’t know what disgusted you more, Strade himself or the fact that he had enough ‘fans’ out there that were of a similar mindset, who avidly watched and supported him enough that he could live comfortably off live-streaming his slaughters.

After some brief adjustments (apparently your camera wasn’t focused enough, the ‘fans’ were complaining about not having a clear shot of ‘the bitch’s stupid, sniveling face’), Strade eventually made his way back over to the main camera, flicking it on and checking the feed on a nearby laptop to make sure everything was looking as it should. Once he was satisfied, he hopped in front of the camera, the jovial smile on his face noticeable even behind his mask.

“Frohe Weihnachten an alle! Oh wait,” he fished around in a drawer beneath his laptop, eventually yielding a slightly wrinkled Santa’s hat that he plopped gleefully upon his head. “That’s better! How is everyone doing this fine, festive holiday?”

Strade’s eyes scanned over the chat, laughing here and there as he read peoples responses. “I see you all noticed the new edition to the party. Ren, (Name), why don’t you give the nice people watching at home a smile?”

Refusing to acknowledge his deluded request, you kept your eyes to the floor, focusing on anything else but the situation you were in. Your legs ached from your balancing act, the impression of the cold cage bars long since deeply engraved in your skin. You grimaced when you tried to reposition them, the bastard could have at least thrown a towel in here for you.

Strade responded to a few more ‘questions’ before releasing a low whistle. “Hey now,” he chided, his voice holding a warning edge to it “I’m happy to share my cute pets with you, but some things only I get to see, yeah? Get your minds out of the gutter, the requests for the day aren’t for them, they’re for our latest catch.”

Strade scratched the back of his head, looking towards you with an amused twinkle in his eye. “I think you two may be a bigger hit then our new friend! A little rude to our guest, but I can’t say I blame the masses.” He gave an exaggerated shrug, laughing a bit as he shook his head. “But enough talk. Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

He made his way over to his tool wall, his finger trailing the varying allotment of devices he owned. He stopped briefly, looking back towards the camera with lidded eyes. “So what are you guys feeling? Should we bust out our old friend the drill, or maybe something a bit more colorful, like the new handsaw I purchased the other day?”

The captive began to struggle with renewed intensity against their binds, thrashing about in a final attempt of escape. Their cries for help turned into wailing screeches, screaming and cursing as loud as they could muster in the hope that someone would magically hear them and come to their rescue. You hissed under your breath angrily, wishing they had never been caught, wishing they could spend Christmas with their family, wishing they would just shut up, wishing this would all end.

“Ohhh, we got a lively one~” Strade purred, grabbing a tomahawk off a nearby hook as he eyed chat, “and I agree with the majority here, it’s best to start off slow. Let’s begin with some little stuff and work up to the main event, really taking our time to enjoy this wonderful moment together.” He eyed the tool in his hand, picking at a remainder of a price tag that stuck stubbornly to the handle. “You may not believe me, but I only purchased this little guy to help with some pesky overgrowth in my yard, not to use on my company. Guess it can’t hurt to test out its sharpness and strength beforehand though, can it?”

Your heart palpitated as Strade stalked his way over to his cornered victim, mutely praying that some act of god would occur that would keep them from being decimated. He towered over them, thoughtfully musing on where he wanted to begin, what part of their body he wanted to mutilate first. He absent mindedly tossed the tomahawk from one hand to the next as he considered his plan of attack, sizing up his prey as if they were nothing more than a slab of meat. You struggled briefly against your binding in last ditch effort to shield yourself you from the ‘show’. But like a cruel child jabbing their fingers into you when you weren’t paying them enough attention to them, the spikes gave you a torturous reminder of the position you had been assigned to play in this performance.

Oddly enough, the stab of the protrusions didn’t hurt nearly as much as they did before. Maybe your body was adapting to the cruelties Strade subjugated it to, or maybe you were finally becoming desensitized to everything you had been forced to experience. Maybe someday it would get to the point where you could be completely unfeeling, like a robot just going through the motions as Strade lived out his wicked life, you forcefully in tow. It was almost a comforting thought, whatever adjustments your body and soul had to make to assure your continued survival, so be it.

However, if the pit forming in your stomach and sweat drenching your brow as you watched Strade inch closure and closure to his victim was any indicator, you were sure something inside of you would always hold on to amity, reminding you just how painfully human you were, heart-breaking empathy and all.

‘I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,’ you chanted in your head, fresh tears carving slick trails down your cheeks when Strade kick their leg, digging the heel of their boot harshly into their stab wound. Bright red bloomed around the fabric covering the wound, their screams growing gravelly the longer they strained their vocal cords. You did your best to hold back the worst of your sobs, rogue sniffles and hiccups escaping despite your best efforts. If there was an afterlife, you hoped that theirs was full of nothing but warmth, peace, and all the things they love. It was the least they deserved for this.

You were vaguely aware of Ren repositioning himself next to you, his head nestling against your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you, shielding you slightly in an almost protective manner. Pressed so close, you could feel that he was shivering, his heart beating a mile a minute as it thrummed against your skin. Whether it was from fear, excitement, or both, you were unable to say.

Strade turned around, giving you one last mirthful glance as he readied his tomahawk over the toes of his captive’s right foot. Though they squirmed intensely, he held a death grip on the limb, keeping them from breaking free. “Make sure to pay close attention now,” desire radiated from his demeanor, voice husky as narrowed eyes briefly roved your restrained form “and don’t feel too neglected over there, I’ll make sure to save some of the fun juuust for you once I finish with our pal over here.”

His eyes darted to the camera, shooting it a look of mock sympathy “For my eyes only of course, you all understand right? Thank you for being here friends, and Frohe Weihnachten für mich!~”

He slammed the blade down. A blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the room as their toes disconnected from the rest of their foot, signaling the beginning of their end.

And you sat like a statue, cold and rigid as your unwilling eyes bore witness to each act of savagery.

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snootlestheangel · 7 months

Text

Back at it with more Shadow Company Moose

cause apparently my life revolves around him now @cod-dump

Big boy Moose falling perfectly jn line with Soap's type. Big, strong, intimidating but quiet, deep voice, all of it.

Soap being the type of person to flirt casually with people whose company he genuinely enjoys.

Soap flirting with Moose after getting to know him a bit better. Moose being flattered but not into Soap (as far as he's aware)

But then Moose overhears a conversation between Soap and Ghost and realizes Ghost is flirting right back. He's not jealous or hurt or anything (he's learned that's the type of friend Soap is and stuff). No.

He's actually terrified.

He's never heard anyone flirt back so openly with Soap before. Sure he's heard Gaz flirt back but the shit Ghost is saying to him shouldn't even be considered flirting. Its filthy and then Moose is backpedalling out of there so fucking fast.

He's terrified because "holy shit Ghost and Soap are together and Soap is flirting with me. I'm gonna be the reason their relationship ends and then Ghost will actually kill me and no one will know the truth."

The next day Soap wants to spar with him. Moose has learned by now that Soap enjoys challenging himself by taking on the guys that are definitely bigger and stronger. Moose accepts because he's now scared of hurting Soap's feelings and getting put on the top of The Ghost's hit list.

They're sparring and it's going well for Moose, actually. He's so close to stopping it, he doesn't want Soap to embarrass himself. But then Soap flattens him. One second he's standing tall and confident, the next he's on his stomach with Soap pinning him down and holding one of his legs as leverage.

Moose gives Soap his compliments. He's never been taken out so fast and brutally before, especially not by a guy that's almost a foot shorter than him. Soap grins at him, and there's an almost evil glint in his eyes.

"Felt good to finally get you underneath me." Soap says, the most blatant flirting he's ever done with Moose. Moose doesn't react, just kinda scoffs a bit and shakes his head.

Then he notices a certain looming shadow in the corner, skull mask tilted to the side as the wearer assesses him with a cold, judging gaze.

Suddenly Moose is bright red and booking it out of there.

He really doesn't want to linger on what Ghost means by telling Soap "Very good, Johnny. Think he'd let you do it again?"

#I don't know what this is #I think I got possessed or something #I blacked out writing this #cod mw2 #soapghost #ghostsoap #shadow company ocs #shadow company #Shadow Company Moose #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

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stuffeddeer · 6 months

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i came across your blog a few days ago and all i could think of is deerlike/fawnlike darling 😭 someone who’s sensitive and shy, a bit vulnerable !! would go so well with any of the dazais omg

YOURE SO RIGHT imma delve into a few different variations :)

Deludedly obsessed Dazai would view your deer-like traits as something inherently weak. It’s something that makes you sensitive and ill-equipped for the cruel world he grew up in. Since he’s well versed in the cruelties of life, Dazai can make sure you stay safe, right? He takes it up as his job to look after you and keep you safe, remaining close at all times when he can be. If you work in the agency alongside him, he makes sure to pull you onto missions that he’s already leading or will pawn off whatever he’s working on to join yours. He works at the agency, sure, but his job is to look after you. If you find him scary, that's merely because of how many people must have been able to wrong you in the past! It's not like it's hard to, in fact, he could easily— no.

That's why he needs to protect you, to keep you away from people like himself. Oda would want him to help out the poor and defenseless, right? Even if you can't accept that yet, you'll understand in a matter of time. Or you won't, and Dazai will have to take more... drastic measures.

Dazai who knows his obsession for you is wrong will start out thinking similar things — how easy you would be to manipulate (he hates that that’s his first thought), how much he should make sure to keep you safeguarded and out of harm’s way — but try to put a stop to it. If you work in an office job or something similar, he’ll be sure to remind himself that you’ve made it this far, and it’s not like you’ll be stumbling into trouble any time soon. To keep his mind from unraveling and his obsession and anxieties from worsening, he’ll follow you home after work under the blanketed night sky, reminding himself the whole time that you’re safe. And if anyone tries to harm you? …

He’d have such an urge to just keep you at his home, safe and away from the cruel outside, but he knows that’s wrong; Dazai knows how sad you’d be and while you’d have no way to fight back, he’d feel so guilty watching you break down in front of him. Looking after you is all he wants to do, including emotionally. But maybe feeling a little sad at the beginning is better than someone hurting you…

As much as he tries to fight it, Dazai knows you’d be better off staying by him all the time.

Manipulative and harsh Dazai who gets some sick joy out of your timid demeanor. He’ll want to crush your spirit, prove that your invulnerability is nothing more than a weakness he intends to exploit. You work in some sort of cozy shop mainly by yourself (ie coffeehouse, flower shop, something cutesy) and it almost makes him sick - how can someone be so sweet and innocent? He wants that for himself and you make it far too easy to obtain. A few kind words and polite smiles and he knows he’s become your favorite customer, even if he never buys anything. He brings you a coffee one day out of the goodness of his heart and Dazai swears he sees hearts in your eyes. He builds up a rapport so quickly and smoothly you don’t notice the red flags (how he always seems to know your schedule, favorite coffee..) and dismiss your co-worker’s worries. There’s no way he could be so rude and flippant with them, it’s not in his nature!

And when you get fired after some anonymous customer continuously claimed you were horribly rude to them, Dazai was there to console you. You find yourself at his place much more often, spending time solely with him as your friends begin to ghost you. As thanks to the man who kept you afloat during all of this, you’d stay and help around Dazai’s apartment, cleaning up and bringing him food… and when he mentioned how lonely it gets, well, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t stay the night? And the next one. And the next…

Once you’ve all but entirely been kidnapped moved in, Dazai reminds himself that the world out there is cruel. So, if you miss being outside so much, then he’ll gladly bring the harsh world to you.

Possessive loser Dazai who doesn’t want your vulnerability and (as he views it) “pureness” tainted by someone else, but is happy just watching you stumble from afar. He swoops in during your date with a friend, dragging you out claiming that they were planning on hurting you! He just wants to keep you safe, don’t you understand that? And you do. You so pliantly nod as you thank him, letting out a sigh of relief that Dazai saved you yet again. How do you keep picking these horrible people?

One night, last minute, you went out with a few friends, and Dazai found out the next day. He spent all day avoiding you, angry beyond belief that you could be so stupid! Don’t you know they’re all the same?! He’s just trying to keep you safe! You’re so sensitive, so malleable; the last thing he wants is for some assholes to make you do something you don’t want to (never mind you saying you had fun). You apologize profusely, because of course you do: Dazai is your best friend.

Port Mafia Dazai whose only basis for relationships comes from Mori and his ability. He knows it’s wrong, right? But when he sees you, so shy and easy to scare, his mind is made up: You are too good for the Mafia. He takes you back to his small shipping container and decides he’d be the one to take care of you, like Mori does with Elise. His paychecks begin to go towards frilly outfits and soft pajamas for his darling, expensive cakes he wants to see you try and the same kind of crayons he saw Elise forcing the Boss to buy a few days ago. You’re well pampered and still so shy and polite, which is why Dazai is so aggravated when you finally ask to feel the sun on your skin once more. He’s sacrificed so much to keep you happy and spoiled, but you still ask for more?…

…He buys you a big house away from Yokohama’s port with big glass walls for you to enjoy the sun.

I imagine a more work-oriented or apathetic Port Mafia Dazai would be the only rendition that doesn’t treat you like a frail doll. Your vulnerable and shy side is cute, sure, but that can be a skill. He’d send you on missions to lure and attack like Kyouka or undercover, as no one expects such a shy person to be apart of the feared organization. He would spend his time training and mentoring you like Akutagawa, but he wouldn’t be nearly as harsh. You don’t have the ability and skills Akutagawa does, but you still should know basic self defense. Who knows? Maybe one day he’ll wrap you up in bandages and train you to follow in his footsteps.

#anon i dont know if you wanted like. animal hybrid reader or just shy reader so i just gravitated towards the latter!#can be kinda ambiguous ig? anyway #I LOVE ALL DAZAIS!!!#THEY ALL CAN DO WWHATEVER IDC IDC #i included some pm!dazai but i dnt rlly write 4 him so sorry if its bad lol #this got long but i wanted to include many dazais !#i love himm yall get it #if this isnt what you wanted anon im sorry 😭 im new to taking rqs!#🦌anon #🦌request #possessive loser dazai is aromantic to me btw..#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd scenarios #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai bsd #bsd imagines #bsd x gender neutral reader #dazai imagines #yandere dazai osamu #yandere dazai osamu x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere drabble #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader

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phantomrose96 · 18 days

Note

is a Riteru read of ABoT the intended one?

It can be if you want it to be buddy. Go enjoy the world!

More genuine answer: I'm an aro-ace writer with a long long streak of gen-fic. Shipping doesn't interest me. I don't hate it; it just doesn't click for me at all. I joke that the only way romance ends up in the story is if it's a plot-necessity (Tetsuo and Jun are there because 'married man suspected of having an affair' is what pulls Reigen into the entire Mogami-possession plot. The Kageyama parents are married because they're, well, the parents. Teru and Mei's relationship is a joke until it's plot-relevant.)

So to me, I'm not writing Ritsu and Teru's relationship as a ship. But also? This is all pretend. It's all transformative. This is for fun. I absolutely know that if I were a ship-writer, Riteru would be the obvious choice. I know they're one angry-kiss away from being someone's enemies to lovers fic. So if you look at Ritsu and Teru in ABoT and say "they're holding hands, to me", go right ahead, go hog-wild, come play Barbies with me.

#my aromantic-agenda is to write fic that spotlights the power importance and intricacies of all kinds of platonic love #and ive done that in SPADES in ABoT #a Riteru read doesn't ruin any of that #so it's whatever you want #in my pocket. i like an aroace Ritsu and pan Teru read #but the aforementioned 'this is for fun pretend. go wild' trumps that totally #we're only alive a short time. go have some Riteru if you want #oh also my OTHER joke is that 'all romance drama in ABoT is actually just bait-and-switch nefarious spirit possession'#Tetsuo is having an affair? Nope! Spirit possession #Teru is cheating on Mei with Ichi? Nope! Saving Ichi from possession #Ichi is interested in Ritsu? Nope! Looking for dirt on spirit possession #my other other joke is that our name-combinations aren't ships. theyre possession dynamics #Tetsugami. not to be mistaken for Tetsuo x Mogami. is the spirit dynamic of Mogami possessing Tetsuo #We got Reigami #We got Slipzato #We got Gimrits #Slipakane Sliphisao #Sorry fresh out of romance but we DO have a 13 year old losing his soul to the corruption of being a spirit-powered-mecha-suit if you want

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frenchfrywrites · 2 months

Text

it keeps repeating, will you please complete me?

MINORS DNI

Warnings: top cis male reader (implied switch), bottom Leona Kingscholar, internalized homophobia, self discovery, mild angst maybe?, gay awakening, very lowkey armpit/scent kink (?), blowjobs, eating ass, safe sex (a lil? Could be safer lmao), situationship turned relationship

“You've been staring at me a lot lately,” you'd meant it playfully, flirting with him as you've been doing for months, finally working up the nerve to call him on it. It started with little glances now and then, but for the last few weeks he's hardly taken his eyes off you. You've jerked yourself off too many nights in a row thinking about his beautiful brown eyes staring you down in the locker room.

Leona only ever willingly studies if you're there with him. He's a godawful study partner, when he does cram with you. He'll do anything but study. Usually he sleeps or bitches about something unimportant, but today he's been gazing at you— nearly unblinking— for the last 5 minutes. It's distracting.

You'd meant it lightly, trying to be cute, expecting him to blush and confess, but Leona looks scared. So often he boasts about being a predator, but right now he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“No I haven't,” he growls, “I'm not-” he swallows, his gaze hardening, “I haven't.”

This is not the reaction you'd thought you'd get, so your brows furrow in confusion.

“Uh yes you have? It's okay,” you smile, touching his hand with your own, “I've been looking too, you know” Leona jerks his hand away.

“I'm not gay,” he insists. And that makes you pause.

“I never said you were,” you reassure, “I only said you've been looking. That's okay,” relief slowly returns to his body. He clears his throat,

“Yeah? It's not weird?” He asks, sounding so unsure it makes your heart break. You remember this, what it felt like to start looking— so to speak— for the first time.

“Not at all. You can look all you want,” you hum, smiling softly, “I'd let you touch if you wanted, too,” you admit with a hum. Leona flushes, gazing at you openly now that he has permission.

The two of you leave it at that for now. You'll bet money that whatever this is will snowball into something more, but you're content if all he wants to do is look for now.

The conversation comes back up again, as you thought (hoped) it might. Leona comes to you after gym, once the locker room has been cleared out. His hair is up, which is an unnecessary detail to note, except for the fact that it makes him look all the more handsome in your eyes. It also reveals his face to you, leaving him nothing to hide behind.

He stands there silently for a second, completely still beside you, his gaze heavy and predatory. Your bag is packed, and you go to grab it and leave, since he hasn't said or done anything, but the sound of Leona's voice stops you.

“You said it was okay to touch.” It isn't a question. Confusion lasts for a second and then you're nodding, remembering exactly what it was that you said to him.

“Sure.” You set your bag down and turn to him, offering your body to his curious eyes and hands.

“It's fine, as long as we don't kiss,” he decides, placing his hands hesitantly on your pecs. You hum, absentmindedly. Whatever it takes not to scare him away.

“Take your shirt off,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. You do as you're told, your hands trembling slightly and your cheeks hot with flush.

Leona pokes and prods, pressing a finger against your nipple, cupping your chest like they’re boobs, feeling up your biceps, then lifting your arm to inspect your pits. He steps into your personal space— so close you could kiss him, but you won't— squinting at the hair there.

Then his face is pressed oh so close to your armpit, and he's smelling you. You almost can't believe that he's doing this and claiming not to be into you, or men in general. It takes everything in you not to laugh at how this seems like a bad gay porno come to life.

“You smell so much different than the girls I've been with,” he hums, pulling away to look at you as he says it.

“I imagine,” your voice comes out deep and quiet. Leona licks his lips, his tail flicking from side to side. Before you can say anything more he busies himself elsewhere, taking notice of your cock tenting your gym shorts.

He tugs your pants open, peering inside, then hums, impressed. He looks up at you, seemingly for permission; you nod, granting it.

Tugging your waistband down, he wraps his hand around your cock. You sigh softly, leaning against the lockers, and reaching out to hold onto his arm to ground yourself. As if magnetized to you, Leona leans further into your space, so close you can feel his breath against your skin as he holds you in his hand.

“It's weird touching another guy's…” he trails off, leaving the words unfinished as he rubs his thumb over your tip.

“None of the girls…” he trails off again, “well, maybe some of them did have dicks, I dunno,” he seems to be talking to himself, but you hum as if you're listening, “sometimes they just wanted to suck me off, y'know?” Your heartbeat is pounding so hard in your ears that you can barely even hear him, but you nod anyway. You choke on your spit before stammering,

“Is that something you'd want to do?” And you know you're pushing hard against the lines of the imagined box that Leona has trapped himself in, but the look he's giving you right now emboldens you.

He holds you tight in his fist, glaring you down, thinking it through, and then he's shrugging and falling to his knees before you.

“Whatever, sure,” he scoffs, “I just want to see what all the fuss is about.” You nearly laugh at that, instead giving him a sincere smile.

“Yeah, I get it,” you reach over to dig a condom out of your bag, “I like giving head,” you add, passing it to him. Shock morphs into frustration on Leona's face so quickly, if you blinked you would've missed it. He snatches the condom from your hand.

“Whose dicks are you sucking?” and oh, ain't that cute. He's jealous.

“Nun'ya,” Leona scoffs, and opens the condom, ignoring your bait. As he rolls the condom onto your length you mumble “nun'ya business,” to yourself, despite him not falling for your bit.

“If you keep annoying me, I'll bite you,” he threatens, smirking while showing off his canines. You tug on his hair, and Leona laughs out loud.

“So…” he hesitates now that he's so close to your cock, “what do I do?”

“What do you like?” you prompt, holding his head softly, mostly to have something to do with your sweaty, shaking hands. Leona returns his attention to your dick, sizing it up, before kissing his way from your tip down to the base. His hands station themselves awkwardly on your thighs, his thumbs digging into your inner thighs, causing a tingle to run along your skin.

Leona inhales your scent, completely beside himself, then sucks your head into his mouth. He'd joked earlier about his teeth, but he's very conscious of keeping them clear of your dick as he sinks you deeper into his throat.

He's a natural, taking you deep into his throat, sucking and swallowing around you like he's been dying to get a taste of you. His eyes flutter shut and his tail sways steadily from side to side as he begins to bob his head up and down along your length.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “feels good.” Leona hums at the praise, laving his tongue along the underside of your cock. He pulls up to suckle on your tip, taking a moment to catch his breath. His hand comes to stroke the bit of you that's not occupying his mouth.

You're unable to hold back soft moans and whimpers as he sucks you off, and they echo along the locker room walls. Thank god you're the only two in here.

Leona's quick to get you back down his throat, choking a bit along the way, but quickly recovering. If you weren't so focused on him you might've missed it, but you catch the soft purring coming from him. You rub the spot behind his ears, far too affectionate for what he's doing and how he came about doing it, but Leona leans into your touch, moaning along your length.

“Shit, I'm not gonna last much— hah — longer,” you confess. Leona hums in acknowledgement, bringing one hand to fondle your balls. “Leona,” you gasp, warning him as a shudder courses its way through your body, and then you curl forward, caging him in and holding his head flush against your cock while you fill the condom.

It's only when your body feels limp and sluggish with post-orgasmic haze that you release him and lean back against the lockers.

Leona coughs once your soft cock leaves his mouth, peeling off the condom, tying it off, before tossing it into the nearest trash can. You reach a hand out to help him up, and Leona takes it, shakily rising to his feet. He's hard, his cheeks flushed as he wipes drool from his chin. Pride is radiating from him as he gives you a smug grin.

“Yeah,” he coughs again, his voice thoroughly fucked, “I get why girls wanna do that.” Again, Leona doesn’t give you the chance to get a word in edgewise before he's turned around, and is swiftly making his way out of the locker room. “Thanks,” he calls just before the door can close behind him.

You stare at the door for a solid minute before tucking yourself back into your pants and sighing so loudly it echoes against the walls. You're so fucked for indulging in whatever the hell you've got going on with him. But if it leads to him blowing you more, you really can't complain.

“You said you suck dick?” Leona's question comes so suddenly out of nowhere, and he says it so nonchalantly that for a moment you honestly believe you've misheard him. The two of you are in the middle of a chess game in Leona's room, having not spoken about him sucking on your dick since it happened a couple of days ago. If it weren't for the evidence of your missing condom, you might've written it off as a particularly good and realistic wet dream.

“Yeah,” you move your rook, capturing his knight. Leona growls at your success, and goes quiet as he thinks. Naively, you assume that's the end of it.

“You'd suck mine?” he asks, finally moving his bishop near one of your pawns. It takes everything inside of you not to rush out a “yes,” showing him just how desperate you are. You pretend to think about it for a moment.

“Yeah,” you push your chair away from the table, “right now?” Leona shrugs,

“If you want to.” He sounds like he's doing you a favor, but his tail wagging excitedly and the excited grin on his face gives him away. He pushes his chair back and you get yourself between his legs.

Gently, you undo his pants, and pull his cock out. You drool, finally getting a good look at him. All you've had up until this point are crumbs, glances when he's changing before gym, and the tent you caught when he'd walked away with a hard on after sucking you off.

“Nice,” you hum, to quell any insecurity he may be having. Leona grins, his chest puffing up with pride. You stroke him to full hardness easily (a little too easily. You seriously wonder how long he's going to claim he's not into men).

“You got a condom?” you ask. Leona bristles,

“Shit—”

“When's the last time you had sex?” you ask, despite part of you not wanting to know the answer. He avoids eye contact,

“Been a couple'a months,” he huffs. You continue stroking him,

“You've gotten tested?” He nods,

“Yeah, 'm good,” you grin up at him,

“Me too,” you state before taking him into your mouth. Leona swears, his hands flying to your head. Hid dick may be impressive, but you're a good cocksucker, and take him down your throat with ease.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, staring down at you with wide eyes as you start sucking him off properly. Your hands roam, massaging his hairy thighs, rubbing circles into his flesh as you drool and swallow along his length. Even if you weren't harboring a dangerous crush on him, you think you'd worship Leona's cock all the same; his dick fits so nicely in your mouth, and his reactions have you hard and leaking in your pants, it'd only make sense to give him your best.

He's moaning your name, his voice cracking and pleading, leaking pre into your mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily, his hands tight on your head, purring up a storm. Selfishly, you want him changed from your blowjob. You don't want him looking at girls any more, you want him addicted to your mouth. You want to do something special for him.

You pull off his cock suddenly, and Leona whines openly, a “please,” nearly falling from his lips. He swallows his words when you rub his tip against your lips, stroking him, then kissing his groin. Your other hand, the one not stroking his cock, presses lightly against his rim.

Leona twitches, looking down at you with wide eyes. He looks fucked dumb just from having your mouth on him. Sweat drenched hair clings to his forehead, his mouth is open and panting, his chest heaving.

“Anyone ever put their mouth here?” you purr. Leona shakes his head dumbly. “Want me to?” He audibly gulps before nodding.

With his permission, you nestle yourself under his dick, and lick his hole.

“Fuck” he gasps, pre leaks like a faucet from his tip as you lick and massage his rim. You get him wet with saliva and drool. It'd be better with lube, and you'll apologize for the dull ache that will come later, but you're able to slip in a finger. At first, Leona tenses at the intrusion, and then as you lick and wiggle your finger he relaxes and opens up for you. He melts into the chair, his cock twitching as you continue to stroke him off.

He's close, and you'd rather not get cum in your hair or on your face, so you keep fingering him as your mouth returns to his cock. You take him down your throat, and curl your finger towards his prostate.

“Fuck— fuck, oh god, cumming, gonna cum, ah,” his orgasm must've sneaked up on him, because that's all the warning you get before he's filling your mouth. He flutters around your finger, his hips weakly thrusting his cock further down your throat as he rides out his orgasm. You steal a glance up at him as you swallow his cum, and you know you're going to be committing his face to memory, and jacking off thinking about it later.

“Off,” he murmurs softly once he goes soft in your mouth. You let his cock out of your mouth slowly, gently pulling your finger from his ass.

“Good?” you check, doing him the favor of pulling his pants up. Leona wipes the sweat from his brow, nodding.

“Yeah, you were alright,” he states. You laugh (because you know damn well that was better than “alright”) getting to your feet. Leona immediately looks at your hard cock tenting your pants. You almost expect him to ask to return the favor, but he pulls his gaze away from you, and back to the chessboard.

“Your turn,” he mumbles.

With a smile, you sit back down in your chair, and think about everything and anything that'd make your erection go away.

It only takes a day for Leona to knock on your door. He looks slightly awkward, a little embarrassed, but not ashamed.

“Can I come in?” he asks. You step back to let him in. He's quiet for a good second, avoiding eye contact.

“I can't stop thinking about it,” he finally states.

“It” of course being your finger in his ass.

“Neither could I, when I first tried anal,” you admit, plopping yourself down on a chair in the living room. Leona follows you, sitting stiffly on a chair close to yours. His typical lazy attitude is all gone right now, and honestly it's a little unsettling.

“You've tried it?” He asks.

You give him a look, one that says “are you kidding?” without you ever having to say the words. Leona huffs, knowing the question was a dumb one.

“How 'm I supposed to know you bottom,” he mumbles to himself, then turns to you, trying (and failing) to look smug and confident, “can I fuck you?” His lack of tact makes you crinkle your nose with ire.

“No,” you pause for a moment, considering it, imagining it. Your cock twitches with interest. “Not yet at least. You've done enough of sticking your dick in holes,” and now Leona's looking more comfortable. He looks hungry, staring you down. You try not to think too hard about how that’s all this all started.

“Anyways,” you rest your head on your hand, looking him down, “aren't you here to get fucked?” He chokes on his spit,

“No,” he snaps, then swallows and looks away, “I mean, I don't know, maybe?” and then he's looking at you all hopeful. He's so cute it makes you want to scream.

“C'mere,” you pat your lap, testing him. Leona does as he's told, straddling you, clearly very unsure of himself. You can't have that.

You let one hand hold his thigh gently, as one goes to touch the spot behind his ear, the place you petted when he sucked you off and purred. That seems to calm him down a bit, and he looks at you expectantly.

“Listen, if you want this, that's alright, but you gotta stop pretending you're something you're not,” Leona bites his lip, “I don't want you acting like you don't want this.” He nods, understanding. He swallows heavily,

“I don't know what I am,” he confesses quietly, barely above a whisper, “I don't know, I just know I—” he nearly looks like he's going to bolt. “I just like you, and I like how you make me feel. I want this,” with a shaky breath he continues, “I want you to fuck me.” You give him a reassuring smile,

“That's all I needed to hear, sweetheart,” Leona visibly relaxes at the pet name, “you don't have to know what you are, or whatever, I just needed to hear you be honest with yourself,”

“Fuckin' corny,” he huffs, but he's smiling down at you, more relaxed than you've seen him in weeks. You think he needed to be honest with himself more than you needed to hear it. You squeeze his thigh and ignore his comment,

“I like you too, and I want to kiss you,” you add. Leona nods, leaning down to capture your lips. It's sweet, and you're grateful you're able to do this before you fuck him stupid.

He takes the lead, deepening the kiss by licking against your lips. You tug on his hair, pressing your tongue into his mouth, licking inside until the two of you are panting. When you pull back to get a good look at him, a string of saliva connects your mouths. Leona's pupils are blown wide, and his hands hold onto the front of your shirt.

“I couldn't stop thinking about your mouth,” he whispers, whimpering when your hand comes down from his head to cup his face. He leans into your touch, opening his mouth when you press your finger against his bottom lip.

It's astounding how much more eager and pliant he is now that he's open with how he feels. He wants you bad, and it's obvious.

“Tell me more,” you prompt, caressing his face as your other hand presses against the tent in the front of his pants.

“As soon as you left, I had to jerk off again. I—” he hiccups a moan, grinding into your touch, “I tried to put my fingers inside again, but it didn't feel the same. It was good, but not enough,” his claws dig into the fabric of your shirt.

“Cute,” you murmur, and Leona's eyes widen. You wonder if any of the girls he's slept with ever dared to call him cute before. “I wanna take my time with you,” Leona whines at this, shaking his head in protest, “hey,” you squeeze his cock roughly, and he keens, “I said I want to take my time with you, but I guess I'll go slow next time, because you're aching for it, huh darling?” you coo, teasing him. Leona nods all the same, letting out a purr at the promise of a next time.

“You've waited so long already, haven't you?” you murmur, tugging on the hem of his shirt. Leona practically tears it off for you. The hand that was on his face moves to play with one of his nipples as you kiss him again.

“Fuck me,” he demands, against your lips, “fuckin' please,” he adds, halfheartedly.

“Get undressed for me,” you help him off your lap, smirking at how he takes a moment to find the strength to stand, and leave him— with a kiss before you go of course— to grab condoms and lube. Before you know it, you're naked on the chair, with Leona in your lap, holding onto your shoulders, slightly digging his nails into your skin.

“Alright baby, lift your hips a bit,” you instruct, so you can slip your now lubed fingers between his cheeks. Leona does as he's told, sighing when you press your fingers against his hole.

“Gotta relax,” you remind him, moving his hair to the side so you can kiss at the place where his shoulder and neck meet. Leona wraps his arms further around your neck and slumps his weight against you, his cock hard and leaking against your abdomen.

“Yes,” he gasps as one finger slips past his tight ring of muscle and inside of him. “Yeah,” he moans, as it sinks deeper into him. You rub and press against his insides, and it's not long before you can slip in another finger.

“Ungh,’ he chokes when you scissor and fuck your fingers deeper into him, curling into his prostate, “yeah, yeah, more, fuck,” he babbles, grinding himself against your hand. His tail flicks from side to side, and he nuzzles into your skin, letting his canines graze your flesh as you stretch him open for your cock.

“Fuck me, I want it, I need it, please,” he whines once you get a third finger inside of him.

“Just a little longer,” you promise, feeling him rut and leak against your stomach. Leona growls, his patience running thin. You keep your word, and after a minute or so you slowly slip your fingers from him.

Leona sits back on your lap, quickly tearing open a condom and sliding it over your cock. He messily slathers lube along your shaft and then hoists himself up. With your help, your cock slides between his ass, and the tip presses against his hole.

“Let me know if it hurts,” you state, kissing his cheek gently. Leona purrs, lowering himself onto your cock. He cries out when the tip of your cock pops into him, and slides down fairly quickly onto your dick. He takes it like a champ, gasping and moaning like a bitch in heat as you fill him up.

“Oh my god,” he whispers once he's fully seated in your lap. You bite your lip, using every inch of energy to not thrust your hips up and fuck him. You let him adjust to the sensation.

Leona clings to you, panting, eyes wide. “Oh my god,” he whines again, “there's so much— it feels so— hah,” he buries his face into your shoulder, moaning your name, “move, please, fuck me,” he begs softly.

“Leona,” you moan, holding his hips gently and bucking your hips into him. Leona goes limp on top of you, which you expected. Part of you wishes you'd moved this to the bedroom, that you had him in missionary, or even doggy style instead, because fucking him like this is a lot of work. Luckily, you don’t think either of you will last long.

“You’re doing so well for me,” you pant, squeezing and massaging his hips, “taking me so good, like you’re made for takin’ my dick, baby,” Leona flutters around you, keening at that. He’s purring and moaning and drooling on your shoulder, taking all you give him.

It doesn’t take long at all for Leona. You wonder if he’ll be embarrassed about it later, but he cums within minutes, without warning, spilling all over your stomach with a weak moan of your name. You fuck him through it, and then still when he shivers. He moans, then whines, then finally groans,

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ take your cock out of me.” Your hips twitch at his words, and lust pools within your loins. You don’t know how long you sit like that, with Leona warming your cock, catching his breath.

“Keep fucking me,” it’s supposed to come off like a demand, but it sounds more like a plea. You obey, slowly fucking him, getting closer and closer to finishing. “Cum, inside of me, fuck me ‘til–” he chokes as your head brushes against his prostate, “until you’ve cum, fuck me,” he moans.

“Gonna-ah cum,” you murmur, as you fuck him faster with each thrust, chasing your orgasm. Leona whimpers,

“Please,” and it sends you over, lodging yourself deep inside of him and fucking your cum into the condom.

“Good?” you ask once your hips still and you find your voice again. Leona nods,

“Yeah, I guess,” he finally dislodges himself from your shoulder, leaning back and smiling at you, “I don’t know though. Maybe you should fuck me again so I can see if I really like it or not,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, and you’re half surprised he doesn’t wink to really sell the act he’s putting on.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you huff, slapping his thigh gently. Leona laughs, his nose scrunching up cutely. “Let me clean you up, and then I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll forget your name.”

Leona stops laughing at that, and instead licks his lips. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says gruffly, sealing the promise by leaning in and kissing you.

#cw internalized homophobia #cw situationship #bottom leona kingscholar #spice #daylight savings fucking saved me yall istg its the only reason i got possessed to write this much #the winter depression is over <3 spring and love is here #PLEASE let me know if this needs other warnings i think i caught everything but idk #dont think too much abt the title its just lyrics from a nin song bc i cant think of anything clever

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