#boyfriend to death strade x y/n

[mothwingwritings]

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.

[puppycassie]

Can you do sano (btd) nsfw headcanons plsplsplsplspls 🙏🙏

♡ hey there anon, ofc I can!!<3

! you guys know the rules, especially with btd, 18+ ! 🩷🍰

some of my sano nsfw headcanons ♡

♡ medical play is an obvious one, he would push your body to the limit in any way he could to see how much you could take, using various medical appliances in different ways

♡ strapping a stethoscope to your chest to monitor your heartbeat accelerating as he fucks and plays with you

♡ enemas, enemas, enemas. wants to fill you up to the brim

♡ forcefully injecting you with various different drugs , making you helpless to him

♡ cutting you open and cumming inside of the wound before stitching you back up, telling you that it's staying inside of you forever

♡ this man loves marking you up, cuts, bruises, hickeys

♡ injecting his cum straight into your holes so that you take it all

♡ "doll" "angel" "puppet"

♡ "how does that feel?" makes you describe the sensations you're feeling whilst he ruins you, enjoying the way you struggle to form words, even when you're gagging on his cock

♡ temperature play!! would insert ice cubes into you, watching you squirm and plead for it to stop

♡ would pour alcohol and salt over fresh wounds if you misbehaved, enjoying the noises you make when you're in pain and recording them, playing the clip back to you later

♡ fucking on the operating table? yes. especially with restraints

♡ makes you masturbate in front of him and watches intently, noting down your reactions

___________________________________

thank you for the request, lovely anon ♡

[compulsivelywet]

Boyfriend to Death x Reader/MC

Chapter 1 - °‧🫧⋆.ೃ��*:･

Warnings: Puppy play, humiliation, Collars, BDSM, Kidnapping, Butt plugs, Latex, Multiple endings, Heavy BDSM - and others (soz lazy)

Dead Dove: Do not eat ⭐️ also a WIP

This is a Ren Hana X reader

(AMAB)

This is not for minors!! - Minors DNI !!

Future chapters will be added - Fic under cut ->

M/C walked anxiously through the forest, having been separated from their friends. After a party, they had been out drinking and ran into the nearby forest to throw up what they had just drunk. But there was a tiny problem with their plan. M/C stumbled deeper and deeper into the woods and now walked alone.

Before they could even react, something tightened around M/C’s neck and pinned him to the ground. They opened their eyes and saw the fugitive holding a control pole. The noose held tight around M/C’s neck. M/C struggled for a few moments but eventually went limp on the ground, accepting his fate. All he could do now was beg for his life.

“Please don’t kill me! I promise I won’t tell anyone. If you let me go, I promise you’ll never see me again! I’ll never bother you again, just please don’t kill-”

Before he could finish his pleading, the Beastkin smashed a glass bottle over his head, immediately knocking M/C unconscious. Ren then relieved the pressure on the snare and removed it from the other's neck. He gently patted his soft hair, humming happily to himself.

“Don’t worry, my little puppy. I’ll take good care of you.”

— — —

— — —

As soon as M/C awoke, they knew something was wrong. He was in some kind of living room, chained to the wall. He felt a slight tightness around his arms and legs, slightly cold, and a dull pain in his rear. His face flushed a bright red when he realized that he was practically naked. All that he wore were black latex thigh-high heels, latex sleeves, a collar around his neck, and a metal muzzle strapped around his head.

He flinched when he felt a hand pet his hair.

“Awww, is my little puppy finally up from his nappy?” Ren said in a mocking baby voice.

“Let me go, you bastard! T-This isn’t funny!”

The Beastkin giggled at the insult before putting a finger under M/C’s chin and scratching.

“Coochie coochie coo~” He teased.

M/C slapped his hand away before realizing what had been done to his own hand. His fingers were tightly bound in horribly restrictive gloves, rendering them completely useless.

“Aww. My puppy’s being a little feisty today.”

M/C glared at him. If looks could kill, Ren would be six feet under already. The fox’s smile only got wider.

“You’re being awful grumpy today. How about you wag that little tail for me?”

Ren reached behind and pulled something. M/C felt a slight pressure in his rear. He turned around, and his worst fear was confirmed. He had a sizable buttplug in his ass with a fluffy brown tail attached to it.

M/C became even more enraged, he jumped to his feet, about to charge at his captor, but he fell back down almost immediately when he felt a sharp pain on both of his soles.

“AAAHH! W-What the fuck?!”

“You’re such a silly puppy. Puppies don’t stand on two legs. I knew you would forget that, so I embedded nails on the bottom of those heels to prevent you from standing upright.”

M/C gasped in horror and disgust. He became enraged and began to yell at the fugitive.

“YOU SICK BASTARD! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THIS TO ME! I’M NOT A FUCKING DOG.” Ren merely shook his head.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Normally I would punish you for that, but I’ll be lenient since it’s your first day and you don’t know any better. Besides, we haven’t even begun your training yet.”

A shiver went up M/C spine when Ren mentioned “training.” He didn’t even want to imagine the humiliation that would entail.

He watched as Ren went to the kitchen. He quickly returned to M/C, holding a bottle full of milk.

“Maybe you’ll calm down once you eat.” Ren pushed the bottle through the wire muzzle cage and pressed the amber nipped to M/C’s lips, urging him to suckle.

M/C’s face flushed even redder as he turned his head away, refusing the bottle. Ren tried again, shoving the bottle in front of his face once more, his tail busheling out in frustration.

“M/C, please. You need to eat to grow big and strong.”

Still, M/C stubbornly refused to drink, glaring at the bottle.

“How dare he?! How dare he kidnap and humiliate me, and then expect me to drink from a fucking bottle?!” M/C thought to themself.

Ren sighed, realizing that his puppy wasn’t going to eat, so he went back to the kitchen and put the bottle away.

“You’ll have to eat eventually you know?”

M/C decided right then and there that he wasn’t going to eat anything until their friends came to his rescue. Hopefully, they won't take too long...

Ren walked up to M/C, giving him a quick peck on the forehead, which made M/C growl angrily at him.

“Goodnight pup! I bought you the best doggie bed I could find, so you should get a good night’s sleep. Maybe if you’re extra good, I’ll even let you sleep in my bed!”

Ren turned off the lights and began to walk towards his bedroom. Before he closed the door, however, he excitedly said “Sleep tight my little puppy! Tomorrow, we’re going to spend the WHOLE day together!”

[ryugasama]

Ren X Reader- Best Friends Forever (Boyfriend to Death 2)

(I do not own boyfriend to death or Ren, they belong to their original owners. Here is the link to the game- http://boyfriendtodeath.com )

Y/N: Acck!~

You fell to the floor choking with the collar around your neck, bolts of electricity shocking you every second. Ren smiled pushing the button on the remote again and again and again. Tears filled your eyes while Ren laughed watching you squirm on the floor.

Ren: Maybe next time you’ll obey what I tell you to do.~

Another shock went through your whole body, you tired to scream but nothing came out. Ren smiled satisfied and put the remote back into his pocket.

Ren: Now wait here, I’ll go and get you something to eat.

He stepped over you and went to the kitchen, you laid there in pain not wanting to move.

Why does this happen to me?

You forced yourself to get up and crawl to the couch laying on the soft cushions. Ren came back in with a smile on his face and a plate of food.

Ren: Here you go!

He sat you up straight and handed you the plate, you took it forcing a smile.

I don’t want to get shocked again, so I guess I have to be nice.

Y/N: Thank you Ren.

Ren: You’re welcome!

You took a bite of the food, it didn’t taste that bad but, you really didn’t want anything off of him.

Ren: Does it taste good?

Y/N: Yes it does.

His ear perked up and his tail swished back and forth happily.

Ren: Yay! I’m so glad you like it!

He took your empty plate and ran back to the kitchen to wash it. You got up and quietly searched around the house for a way out, there was nothing. All the doors were shut tight, the windows needed some type of key to open them.

Ren: Hey Y/N!

You jumped and spun around quick to face Ren, he smiled joyfully at you.

How can someone who look so innocent be so evil?

You stared at him waiting to speak.

Ren: You must be tired, come and I’ll show you to your room.

He grabbed your hand firmly and pulled you out of the room you were in. He led you into a bed room. It was neat and smelled like lavender, the bed was nicely set up.

Ren: You’ll be sleeping here for now on. Make yourself at home and get a good night sleep.

He walked out and looked at you before closing the door, his eyes narrowed.

Ren: And don’t try to escape, or I will give you another round of shocks.

You watched him leave and sighed sadly. 

Am I really stuck in this place forever?

You jumped onto the warm bed and closed your eyes trying to relax.

Ugh, this sucks.

You drifted off to sleep wishing this was all a dream.

Later…

Ren: Hey, hey get up Y/N!

When you turned over and moaned you heard him growl and felt a jolt of electricity move through out your entire body. Your eyes fluttered open and you fell off the bed with a yelp.

Ren: Good morning!

He smiled down at you showing his fangs, his ears wiggling.

Y/N: Uh…. morning.

Ren: Come down stairs, I made breakfast and we got company!

Company?

He skipped out of the room and down the stairs, you followed short after. There was a lovely aroma coming from the kitchen, you walked in to see a table full of food and someone waving at you. You stared uneasily.

Ren: Y/N, this is Lawrence.

The stood up and held out his hand politely.

Lawrence: Good morning Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.

You looked at him and shook his hand.

He didn’t do nothing to me, so I might as well be nice.

Y/N: Pleasure is mine.

Ren jumped up and down happily and squealed.

Ren: Look at us all getting a long like friends!

While Ren walked over towards the table to sit down, you noticed Lawrence was acting strange. He was glaring at Ren and was acting disgusted.

What’s his problem?

You wondered and took a seat next to Ren, eating whatever was there. It didn’t take you long to finish, you weren’t that hungry anyways. You played with your food not paying attention to Ren and Lawrence’s actions. You fell off your chair when you heard a loud bang that made your ears ring. Lawrence was slumped in his chair with a bullet in his chest and fresh blood running down his front, Ren standing up with smoke coming from the tip of his gun.

What the fuck?!

Y/N: Wh-what did you do?!

Ren looked at you with a evil smirk and narrowed eyes reloading the gun.

Ren: Don’t worry, he’s not dead, not yet at least. Here.

He forced the gun into your hands and made you point it at Lawrence. The poor man stared back at you pleadingly, helplessly. Your arms shook and you tried to put the gun down, but Ren wouldn’t let you.

Ren: Do it, do it now!

I-I can’t do this, he’s crazy!

Ren: Do it.~

He said in a cold voice. You stared at Lawrence with tears in your eyes.

I-I can’t.

You elbowed Ren in the stomach hard and made a run for it accidentally dropping the gun.

Shit!

Ren sighed while you ran and finished Lawrence off with a bullet to the head, his body pushed off the chair by the force. You tried to look for a place to hide desperately, but Ren knew this place inside and out, he will surely find you soon enough. Your eyes darted to the door, it seemed as though Ren didn’t lock it or put the alarms on.

This is my chance!

You ran to the door and outside, it wasn’t worth it. The electric collar went off giving you nothing but choking, eye watering shocks. You laid on the grass struggling to get it off, but failed.

Ren: Y/N, there you are! Come back inside, I want to play with you.~

He took you by your arms and dragged you back inside closing the door shut lightly behind you. The shock stopped, but you couldn’t move at all.

Ren: Let’s play in a sound proof room, shall we?

He dragged you down the basement stairs and tied you up to a metal pole against the wall. You watched him weakly put his hand on a cooling box and whisper to himself.

Ren: This is for you old pal.

Old pal?

He came back over to me and pulled out a big hunter knife, his evil grin only getting wider.

Y/N: Ren, why are you doing this?

He looked at the cooling box sadly, then back at you.

Ren: Long ago I had a friend. He was the only one who care for me, who appreciated me for who and what I am, unlike my family and normals like yourself. That shock collar you have, that used to be mine, he made it for me so I could wear it and be safe.

Your curiosity got the best of you and you started asking questions.

Y/N: Be safe is being trapped inside the house and shocking you forever?

Ren: No, he was my friend!

Y/N: By the looks of it, he wasn’t.

He growled at you and pointed the gun to your head.

Ren: YES HE WAS!

You stood quiet to let him finish speaking.

Ren: He always protected me, fed me, clothed me. Always putting me first before anything else. Then, it happened….

His eyes got watery and he looked away, even though you were terrified, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for this kid.

Y/N: What happened?

Ren: You see how you are right now? All tied up, scared?

Y/N: Yes…

Ren: He would always bring people home and hurt them, kill them. And one night, he did the same thing. The person retaliated against him, and they both ended up dying….

He let a heart broken sob come out of him and he turned around to avoid eye contact, his ears and tail drooping sadly.

Ren: I was worried when he was taking a long time than usual down here and came to check it out. He was on the floor covered in blood. He asked me to help him, he begged me, he sounded scared and sad at the same time….. And what did I do? I-I just stood there like a idiot and watched him die. I remember the look on his face, he looked so hurt and betrayed….. I-I’m sorry Strade…. I’m sorry…. I should’ve helped you, I’m sorry!

He sniffed looking at the cooler box trying to dry his eyes.

Was this Strade guy in that thing?

Ren: And now that he’s gone-

He turned around to you again still crying but sounding deadly putting the gun back to your head.

Ren: I will continue doing his dirty work in his honor!

You looked at him terrified and pleadingly, shaking your head.

Y/N: R-Ren, please…..

Ren: Don’t worry Y/N, you will soon join my friend Strade and you will be my second Best Friend Forever.~

Y/N: Ren…. No, no PLEASE!

There was a loud bang, and darkness soon came afterwards. Your body slumped down to the floor and you managed to utter your last words.

Y/N: R-Ren….~

                  You Died, You’re Ren’s Best Friend Forever

[mothwingwritings]

Release

F!Reader X Ren Hana

Hello everyone!!! Back at it again with a new Boyfriend To Death fic ❤

I know what you might be saying. “Wow another BTD fic based around a collar, real original Moth” BUT in my defense I actually wrote this one before the story I wrote for Strade. My brain barfed this out a few months ago (when I finished playing through Ren’s route for the first time) but I wanted to make something Christmas-esque because it was December, so Strade’s story came out first.

Regardless, I had a lot of fun writing both, so I hope you enjoy them too! ❤

Though there is nothing overtly sexual in this, due to the subject nature of this fic this story is 18+ ONLY please!!!

Warnings: imprisonment, abuse (physical and mental), reader has some extreme Stockholm syndrome going on, incredibly unhealthy relationship, biting, blood, reader gets hurt, mentions of sex, I guess maybe petplay potentially??? (what with the collar and all).

Thank you for reading!

“Okay… You promise you’ll be a good girl, right? No funny business?”

Despite being perched on soft carpet, your legs ached from kneeling on them for the past half hour. You kept your back pin straight and your shoulders even, your hands neatly folded in your lap. His voice was cheery as he spoke down to you, playful even, but you knew Ren well enough to know that these next moments were crucial. With him, even the most benign moments could turn at the drop of a hat.

“I promise Ren. I’ll be good.”

Your voice was soft as you responded to him, big doe eyes looking up at the beastkin in expectation. Your promise wasn’t a lie- you always intended to be good for him, striving to do so even when the situation made that nearly impossible. You bit your bottom lip apprehensively, a slight shiver wracking Ren’s body when you did so. He was watching you just as closely as you were him, drinking in your form, honing in on each and every move of your body and change of expression. 

He smiled at you, that sad half smile he always got when he was grappling with his inner emotions. “I know you will. You are always good for me… To me…” He hesitated for a moment, staring with trepidation at the key that lay in his hand. It was no bigger than his pinky, but seemed to weigh him down regardless.

“I’m just, um, nervous I guess. But I’m not sure why? It’s not like taking it off is gonna change anything,” Though he laughed to dispel the tension, it had the opposite effect, his nerves palpable as he fidgeted where he stood.

For a moment you thought he was going to go back on his word. Tell you to forget about it and toss the shock collar’s key aside, leaving you stuck in it for another day. Part of you wondered if that would even matter. Ren was right, nothing truly would change, collar or not.

… But still, you couldn’t help but hope. That cruel, nagging feeling swelled up in your heart, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Your heart beat like a drum in your chest and sweat slicked your brow as you watched him nervously turn the key around in his palm, your fate in his hands as he mulled the decision over.

It had been months now that the collar had been around your neck, heavy and overbearing, a constant, torturous reminder of your new life. He had only allowed it to come off in brief intervals when you showered or when you slept so that you could find some comfort as you laid next to him, caged in by his embrace. Otherwise it wrapped around your neck like a noose, and even though these days its intended purpose was hardly necessary, Ren kept it firmly in place. He was too afraid to keep it off you for long, worried that given the choice you would abandon him too.

But you wouldn’t. For better or worse, whatever twisted feelings Ren had harbored for you, you now shared for him-all of his ardent affections reciprocated. Deep inside you knew this all was wrong, and it would be a blatant lie if you said you no longer felt any fear or sadness over all that had transpired (all that continues to transpire) while he held you in captivity. Even so, none of that dulled the fact that at this point you craved his touch, yearned for his smile, and wanted nothing more than his companionship and love to get you through the lonely struggle life had become.

After spending months with him as your only companion, you had grown to care deeply for Ren. Though the experience was often terrifying and confusing, you had learned to place your trust in him as he watched over you the past half year, relying on him for all your needs and necessities. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about him. And the more you learned, the more you began to open up to him. 

After a certain point, love began to blossom.

That feeling flourished within, growing so unruly that even his moments of torment and cruelty were accepted with open arms. It took you awhile to realize it, but you now understand that everything Ren does he does for your benefit. Whether he was treating you like a princess or teaching you a harsh lesson, Ren did everything in his power to make sure you were cared for, protected, and aware. Life wasn’t always fair and kind, it was better to be taught that at the hands of someone who loved you then to experience it unexpectedly out in the wild.

Looking back on it now, you were a fool not to appreciate him sooner. All the fussing and fighting you did when he first brought you home seemed completely ridiculous now. He took you in, let you live in a nice home, prepared you home cooked meals every day, and lavished you in affection even when you were being stubborn and didn’t deserve it.

For all that he is and all that he has done for you- the good and bad alike- he deserved nothing but your wholehearted devotion in return. Thinking about the past made you cringe but you refused to let yourself get caught up in it, doing your best every day to be good for him and make up for your prior indiscretions. He loved you with all that he is, poured his soul into caring for you and keeping you content. No past lover had ever treated you with the loyalty or attention that Ren had, and you were thankful for that.

 His happiness had become your happiness. To risk the life you had built together by taking advantage of his kindness was unthinkable.

But even with your steadfast dedication to him, he still continued to mull over this decision with a deep scowl plastered on his face. An ache blossomed in your chest. Surely he had to realize by now that he was just as precious to you as you were to him? You pouted a bit as you watched him agonize over the situation, your heart hurting to see him have such a lack of faith in your bond.

“… Ren?”                                                                                    

Your questioning voice caught his attention, dragging his focus away from the key he was clutching in his sweaty grip. The moment you had grabbed his attention, you slowly began scooting closer to him, your knees itching as they scratched against the fibers of the fancy carpet. Once you neared him, you raised your hands till they cupped his, gently enveloping his shaky fist in your warm hold. You pulled his hand towards your mouth, delicately kissing each of his fingers as you stared up into his eyes.

“If you don’t want to take it off, you don’t have to,” you smiled at him genuinely, your lips lingering on his thumb before you pulled away. You felt a shiver pass through him as his eyes grew hazy, boring into yours with growing intensity, “I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so it’s OK. I am not upset, we can keep it on another day-“

“No.”

Your eyes widened at the assuredness in his voice, all previous concern nonexistent. “No… It’s time to take it off. It’s only getting in the way at this point. Just… Gimme a second, OK?”

He positioned himself behind you, nervous hands fumbling as he worked to remove the collar. After several seconds of poking and prodding, a loud ‘click’ came from the back of your neck followed by a small thud as the heavy collar fell from your body, colliding with the carpeted floor.

Your hand’s shot up to touch your exposed skin, a shiver coursing through you as the cold air hit your sweaty flesh. Tears began to well in your eyes as the realization donned on you. You were free. You had been a good girl for Ren and he rewarded you for it, just like you knew he would.

“W-well,” you heard Ren stutter above you, clearly a bit nervous about what may happen next, “What do you think? How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing,” your voice warbled as you still got used to the sensation. Its absence was foreign and exciting and you couldn’t help but break out in a huge, elated grin. “Thank you Ren. Thank you so much.”

He lowered himself in front of you, crouching on his knees. “Can I see?” A hint of worry still remained in his timid voice, fearful that you may still end up rejecting him.

You looked to him with a smile and nodded, baring your neck for him to witness. “Of course! I probably look a little bit different without it on, huh?”

“Pretty…” His voice was breathless as he dragged his fingers gingerly across the freed skin of your neck. His pupils dilating slightly as he felt you shudder under his touch. “So, so pretty… But also, a little barren, don’t you think?”

Your breath caught at the insinuation, a small wave of panic causing your body to tense. Did he regret his decision after all? Was he going to put the collar back on? You had told him it was fine if he decided that, and you weren’t someone who went back on their word, but at the same time… that was before you experienced it. Now that you realized how good it felt without that horrible, weighty reminder clinging to your skin, you dreaded the thought of it attached to your body once more.

An airy chuckle fell from his lips as he noted your reaction. He leaned in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, I’m not going to put it back on. But I do hate the idea of you walking around without something on your body to signify that you’re mine, you know?” His caress traveled from your cheek, his right hand snaking around your head to cradle it, pulling you closer to him. His free hand wrapped around your waist, which kept you flush against him.

“I want to give you something better than that collar,” his voice had become strained, lithe fingers curling up to entangle in your hair, tugging roughly on the strands at the base of your neck. “I want you to have something personal, something that will look perfect on you.”

Without another word, he latched himself to your neck. Not in a kiss, but a harsh, powerful bite.

You gasped as his sharp incisors dug themselves into your flesh, a wave of pain causing tears to flood your eyes. You pressed your fists against his chest, biting down on your trembling bottom lip in an effort to hold back your cries.

Warm blood trickled from the wound as he detached himself, a vibrant trail snaking from the puncture wound to slither down your neck. His tongue stopped it before it hit your collar bone, leaving a wet, sloppy streak across your neck as he licked up the mess.

“This is much better, right?” He asked tentatively, his fingers traveling down to trace the wound he had inflicted. Blood coated his fingertips as he ran them over the injury, his breath hitching as he smeared you with crimson, “prettier… you are so pretty, (name)…”

“T-thank you Ren,” you flinched at the movement of his fingers, shuddering as he pressed down on the open wound, “It’s much better.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pivoting your head slightly so that he could nuzzle into the unmarred side, “but it’s not perfect yet, there needs to be more.”

Another abrupt bite sunk into your flesh. This time you couldn’t help but cry out, blubbery whimpers tumbling from your quivering lips. You felt Ren shiver against you, your reactions eliciting an excited moan from him that was muffled by your flesh in his jaw. The hold his teeth had on you eventually yielded, but the assault of his mouth did not. Feverish kisses pressed against the new wound, his tongue lapping at the blood as it muscled its way across the puncture. You whined at the sensation, waves of pain emanating from the weeping, gory wounds as he continued to aggravate them.

When he finally pulled away tears had already begun to fall freely down your cheeks. Though he had given your neck a much needed break, you were given no time to collect yourself as he proceeded in pressing his lips firmly to yours. The taste of copper flooded your tongue as he deepened the kiss, forcibly pushing himself against you until you had no choice but to lean backwards, your back falling flat against the floor as he crawled overtop you.

He placed his hands on either side of you, his legs straddling your hips as he sat himself atop you. You were effectively caged in when his lips parted from your own, and though his face was obscured in shadows, you could clearly see a swath of your blood spread across his mouth. It perfectly complimented the animalistic hunger in his eyes, his mischievous fox like features seeming far more sinister than normal as he leered down at you.

If you didn’t know any better, you would fear he was going to eat you alive.

“I want to mark you in all kinds of ways, (Name),” His tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, a sliver of pink peeking through the red, “I want to mark you to show you how much I love you. I want you to be able to look at every inch of your body and be reminded of me. That way even if we get separated, you won’t be lonely. You’ll have a constant reminder of how much I love you.”

A serene smile spread across his face as he looked at you, the vibrancy of his blush nearly matching the blood that coated his mouth and chin. He shifted a bit above you, the feel of his hardening cock unmistakable as it pressed against your pelvis.

“I love you,” his voice wavered as he leaned closer towards you, unsteady breaths fanning your face as his lovesick eyes drank you in. His lips were teasingly close to yours as he continued to smile down at you, a small, happy laugh tumbling from his lips as his tail began to swish behind him in excitement.

“I’m so glad I made you mine.”

[mothwingwritings]

Green

F!Reader X Strade

Really original name for this one, major kudos to me for that one. B)

Here’s another little Strade thing. I remember reading somewhere on Gato’s blog that his fav color is green so this was born from that. I honestly may have made that up in my head though so if I did just pretend it’s true. :)

Anyway, it’s just another little ficlet while I work on some little stuff. I hope you all enjoy and thank you, as always, for reading. (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

THIS IS 18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Mentions of noncon, torture, abuse, (briefly) suicide, and imprisonment.

Green was your favorite color.

You can’t really remember what originally attracted you to it, whether it was that you genuinely enjoyed the shade or if you were just trying to be cool and not pick a color that was overly ‘girly’. But after years of placing it on a pedestal, dubbing it your favorite amongst all other colors, your affection for it had remained solid.

Whenever you bought an item, whether it was something little or an object that was pricier, you always checked to see if it came in green. The walls of your childhood bedroom were coated in the color, and when you moved out on your own and were in charge of your own interior decorating, green was what you chose to paint most of the rooms.  You adorned yourself in it, green being the prominent color in your wardrobe and jewelry collection. Sweaters, dresses, pants- at least one of each came in green. Even a vast array of your makeup was dedicated to the color, matching perfectly with whatever outfit you donned yourself in should you feel the urge to get a little more gussied up.

And on the night you met Strade green was one of the first things you talked about.

After he introduced himself you complimented his shirt. Or at least that’s how you remember it, the night itself had become a bit of a blur. You were shy by nature and not used to people ambling up to you for conversation, let alone at a bar (someplace you only went because you were meeting up with friends and just happened to arrive the earliest). You awkwardly tripped over your words, flustered by the man who had welcomed himself so easily into your space, taking the seat across from you so naturally it was as if he was the friend you had been waiting for.

After a preliminary exchanging of greetings and light pleasantries, an uncomfortable silence lingered between the two of you. He seemed perfectly content just being in your presence, sipping his beer with a twinkle in his eye as he watched you fidget and squirm through the forced interaction. You must have checked your phone at least a hundred times in hopes of an update, grimacing when one finally arrived in the form of a text stating your friends were stuck in traffic and probably wouldn’t be at the bar for at least another thirty minutes.

Your new companion’s unwavering stare coupled with the suffocating and boisterous atmosphere of the bar was starting to do a number on you. You contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but you weren’t too keen on sitting in a dimly lit, poorly maintained stall for a half hour while you waited on your friends. And if you dipped in there for a little bit just to find some reprieve, you’d still be facing the same situation when you came back out.

So mustering your courage, you decided to try and take some initiative in an attempt to make things a little less awkward.

“Um, I like your shirt,” you spoke just loud enough that he could hear you over the noise of the other patrons.  Though you were overcome with nerves, you figured it best to lead a conversation with a compliment. Who doesn’t like to receive praise, even for something as trivial as a garment? “It’s a nice color, green is my favorite.”

Instant embarrassment caused your cheeks to flush. The words sounded a lot less childish in your head, and you chided yourself over how silly it sounded as soon as they left your lips. What kind of adult starts a conversation at a bar by talking about their favorite color? What were you, five?

But he laughed warmly, genuinely pleased by your comment, dispelling all feelings of bashfulness. At the time you liked the way his laugh sounded, warm and inviting as it fooled you into thinking that maybe he actually could become your friend.

“Thanks, and good choice,” he shot you a lopsided smile, raising his half-full mug to you. “Green’s my favorite, too.”

It was funny in a tragic sort of way, how something that you used to enjoy so much now just filled you with cold, deep, dread.

Now you could only associate green with pain. Green reminded you of his arms, constricting and choking you, squeezing you within an inch of your life as he dragged you away from the last semblance of normalcy you’d ever experience. Green reminded you of his chest, smothering you, muffling your screams as he tested out his newest weapon on you- the green handle of his knife getting stained with red splatters, your blood coating it as he carved into you with reckless abandon.

Green reminded you of the carpet in his bedroom, where he would hold you down after he finished brutalizing some poor soul in his basement, still high off his kill as he fucked you long and hard, getting off to your cries of pain as he spilled himself deep inside of you. Green reminded you of the bedsheets you would snatch off his bed, cocooning them around your body for a false sense of security, creating a flimsy shield against the rest of the world. Every night when you fell asleep nestled inside of them, Strade not far from your side, you wondered if one day he may use them to strangle you. You wondered if maybe that would be for the best, if you just never woke up again.

Green used to be yours, a color that loved ones and friends used to associate with you.  A color you used to look at and see yourself in. A color that used to bring you joy.

Now all it reminded you of was Strade and just how much of yourself you had lost to him.

[mothwingwritings]

Chance Encounter

F!Reader X Strade (BTD)

It's my birthday today! This was not the fic I planned on posting for it, but it was the one I had most completed so that is how it all worked out.

I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you for reading!

DUE TO THE SUBJECT MATTER OF THIS FIC 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: Imprisonment, physical/mental abuse, reader getting stabbed and hurt, mentions of sex, language, light editing.

Life was wrought with mistakes, one simple slip up holding the power to irrevocably change the course of your entire existence. It was impossible to get through your day to day without some form of blunder bogging you down at some point, vexing you at every turn to make the trials of life that much harder. But while inevitable, most of life’s fumbles are minor, silly little things that, though annoying, are easy enough to shrug off and live with, causing no major impediment to your existence.

That’s the kind of error that this instance should have been- a nothing moment causing seconds of agitation at best. As the cold, slick water bottle tumbled from your loose grip, the noise it made as it collided with the floor seemed blaring and dramatic, as if it were trying desperately to tell the whole world you had made an error. The bottle gained just enough momentum from the fall to roll out of your sight, disappearing into the main hall, hopefully coming to a stop before reaching the main door. After a brief sigh you chased after it, grumbling at the nerve of the inanimate object to try and make a run for it, eluding your grasp. Casting your eyes to the floor, you thought of nothing more than securing your drink as you followed after the trail of moisture it left behind.

Luckily it had not traveled far, and your eyes were quick to hone in on it as soon as you entered the adjoining hallway. Hunched over, your hand had once more clasped around its slippery, frosty surface, this time a bit more securely. Bottle now firmly in hand, you began to raise yourself, eager to slink back into the depths of the house where you would (hopefully) be left alone.

“Oh? And who do we have here?”

The sudden recognition stopped you dead in your tracks. An unfamiliar voice rang through your ears, sounding like an alarm in your head. Confusion gave way to fear, causing a several second delay before you could force your slumped form to even glance up and acknowledge who the words had come from. A cold sweat began to coat your body, mirroring the perspiration of the water in your hand.

Obscured by several strands of messy hair, your eyes fell to the front door at the end of the hall, scanning the area where this mystery voice had come from. A few minutes ago you had thought you could make out Strade opening it, but since you had heard nothing further you figured he was just checking the mail or something and he would be back in within a matter of seconds (if he wasn’t already back inside, which is what spurred your hurried supply gathering to begin with).

So when your water bottle slipped from your hands and rolled out into the hall, you didn’t think twice before chasing after it. Despite how the hall seemed a bit brighter than normal and that a slight breeze accompanied that light, you never would have imagined collecting your fumbled bottle would lead you to a confrontation with a complete stranger.

There was a strict rule about keeping yourself hidden away in the house, out of sight and mind for any and all neighbors and passersby. Whether you meant to or not, you had just broken that cardinal rule and now had to deal with the fallout.

The front door was flung wide open, flooding your vision with a blinding ray of sunlight. You squinted as your eyes adjusted, honing in on two silhouettes that appeared in the doorway. One was undeniably Strade, while the other belonged to a slight elderly woman. As your eyes grew accustomed to the light, you noted she wore a surprised, albeit pleasant, expression on her aged face, denoting that she was just as shocked to see you as you her.

You slowly straightened your posture, crinkling the plastic bottle in a tightening grip as you pivoted your body to fully face both individuals. The woman took you in with a steady mix of confusion and amusement, no doubt hankering to know more about this new woman who had entered her midst. Strade, on the other hand…

When your eyes flicked to him you had to bite back the desire to instantly flee. Outwardly he had managed to keep his cool, his posture remaining lax as he faced you with a peaceful grin on his lips and a slight twinkle in his eye. To an outsider, his expression could easily be misconstrued as a look of amused fondness, as if seeing you show up randomly was natural and welcomed. But you knew Strade and his tells well enough to know just how much danger you were actually in. It was in the way he gripped the doorknob a smidge too tightly, found in the dangerous gleam that shone beneath the sparkle of his crinkled eyes, apparent in the imperceptible way he tapped his foot. He had made his displeasure of your arrival crystal clear, needing no further assurance of just how severely you had fucked up.

“This is (Name),” Strade’s response was effortless, his face and demeanor completely devoid of any hints of worry, “Don’t be shy, come introduce yourself!”

You saw him fiddle with something in his pocket, no doubt the controls to the large, overbearing collar that hugged your neck like a noose. He gave a quick jerk of his head, alerting that it was alright to come towards him.

After several slow, shaky steps, you arrived at his side. Standing at the cusp of the doorway, the sun was so bright it was nearly blinding. You basked in its glow, feeling refreshed the moment the warm rays and fresh breeze came in contact with your skin. You took a deep, shuddering breath as you stared up into the impossibly blue sky. Fat, fluffy clouds meandered by, carried ever so slowly by a gentle breeze.

For a moment, you felt the sweet embrace of freedom.

“Oh my, Sweetheart you look awful!”

A concerned voice brought you crashing back to reality, a cold dread clawing its way back inside you. You looked towards the woman who could now clearly see you in all your glory- open wounds, old scars, fat bruises, thick collar, everything. The horror in her eyes reflected her inner emotions, a deep frown highlighting her pity and concern.

Though her reaction was to be expected, it terrified you. Strade’s meticulously kept secret was being laid bare and that couldn’t mean anything good for either yourself or the woman that discovered you.

“Impressive, isn’t she?”

You both whipped your head towards Strade, responding to his nonchalance with puzzled stares. Strade chuckled in response, “(Name) here is a stage actress by trade, and recently has been dabbling in her own makeup and special effects. It all looks pretty convincing, doesn’t it?”

A wave of relief washed over the woman at his on the spot explanation, “Dear me, you almost gave me a heart attack! It certainly fooled me!” She turned her attention back your way, staring with squinted eyes at the marks that littered your form, taking them in with a newfound appreciation. “It’s strange to compliment something so garish, but it is quite impressive that it looks so realistic. You did a great job, sweetie.”���

Your body slightly jerked as Strade’s hand clasped on your shoulder, giving a squeeze. You didn’t have to look at his face to realize he was no doubt pleased by the sick, fallacious compliment he had just second hand received.

“T-thank you,” you took the initiative, figuring it was best to act on your own then wait for Strade to prompt you. The more convincing this all looked the better. “I have been practicing a lot so I am glad they look so… natural.”

You choked on the word, disgusted by your own insinuation. Natural- Is that what this had all become?

“Well, you sure fooled these old eyes,” the kindly woman laughed so deeply it shook her frame, “But even with all the makeup it’s easy to tell you are quite lovely,”  a knowing smirk crossed her wrinkled lips as her eyes darted to Strade, “Am I right in saying you’ve finally found yourself someone special, Strade?”

It took all you had not to wretch on the spot, disgust gripping you so violently it was a miracle you were able to keep your expression neutral at her insinuation.

“Ahhh, ya caught me!” Strade laughed, slinging his arm around your shoulders, jostling you a bit in the process. “I was planning on introducing her a little later, but no time like the present, eh? (Name), this is Mrs. Schmidt, my next door neighbor.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled, giving a small nod. You didn’t want to attempt a hand shake, worried that your grasp would be far too sweaty and quivery for someone who didn’t actively fear for their life simply by being in their ‘boyfriends’ presence.

“Well it is very nice to meet you too miss (Name). It warms my heart to know Strade has such a pretty young lady to keep him company, we’ve been worried he’d be a lonely bachelor for life!”

She gave a tinkling laugh and you forced yourself to respond in kind. You realized her suggestive prodding and compliments on your looks were just her attempting to be polite and chummy, but you couldn’t help but find the interaction exceptionally grating. You knew you looked exactly how you felt, chewed up, spit out, dragged to hell and back again. No amount of flowery praise could ever convince you otherwise. That, coupled with the cutesy way she interacted with Strade had you considering slamming the door in her face, effectively ending this surreal hell even if it meant willingly barricading yourself inside to be alone with Strade again.

“You know, we were all trying to marry off our neighborhoods most eligible bachelor,” she mused, reaching over to lightly touch Strade’s arm. The familiarity made your hair stand on end. To think someone could so casually touch him, staring up at him with such soft reverence, made you want to gouge your own eyes out to not have to witness the blind adoration a moment longer.

“Ah come on now, I’m not that hopeless!” You felt his laugh as he clutched you to his side, reverberating through you as he tightened his grasp. Without the threat of the collar, was he worried you would bolt? “I mean, I found (Name) right? I was just waiting for the right person!”

“Well she sure is lucky,” the old woman directed her focus back towards you “I’ve been his neighbor going on five years now and I can’t tell you how many times he has helped us out. In fact, just last week we were having issues with that old hunk of junk we call a car and it seemed that no matter what shop we took it to, it wasn’t getting fixed. We were about to scrap the thing when Strade came over and took a look at it, found the problem, and fixed it up good as new! It runs better now than it has in years, and Strade wouldn’t even accept payment! He just took a cold beer and went on his merry way.”

A wave of nausea washed over you as she continued to animatedly speak, a shine in her eye as she droned on and on about how much she adored the monster beside you. As she droned on, an intrusive thought began to creep in your head. What would she do if she knew the truth, you wondered? If she was made privy to the fact that the same hands that fixed her car have choked you, stabbed you, and beat you to the point of near death multiple times, how would she respond? If the man she idolized was laid bare before her, how vastly would her opinion of him change? Would she even believe it? Would she try and help you, or would she continue to live in her happy bubble of ignorance?

“And it’s not just us either, the whole neighborhood adores him! I don’t think there’s a person on this street this man hasn’t helped. He’s a true angel!”

An angel. This mass murderer, this menace to society, this cold blooded killer, was her angel.

Quivering with tremors, your body began to tense up. Whether from disgust, anger, or fear you were uncertain, but the uncanny nature of this entire instance was making your skin crawl and you desperately wanted to retreat back in the house and curl up in some shadowy corner, far removed from the situation.

You cursed yourself for dropping the bottle and ultimately subjugating yourself to this woman before you and the eerie words the continued to spew from her lips, fueling the revulsion that wracked your gut. The realization that the man who mercilessly assaulted you day after day, spiriting you away from all you ever loved and knew to be kept as his personal ‘pet’ and punching bag, was the block’s own personal hero, hit you like a ton of bricks. Since you had been imprisoned you held on to the secret hope that someone was on to him, that maybe a local neighborhood hero would one day report him and the police would storm the place, ultimately saving you from your nightmare. Now it was abundantly clear that was just a pipedream and an incredibly stupid and naïve one at that.

After being subjugated to this cruel revelation you decided that if Strade didn’t kill you, maybe you would just give up and find a way to do the job yourself. Was the tiny amount of hope you clung to worth it? Would you ever make it out of this alive?

Strade chortled sheepishly beside you, “Please, you give me too much credit! I just like to tinker and have a bad habit of sticking my nose in other people’s business, as (Name) can probably attest to.” He shook you back to reality, bringing the attention back to you, “Speaking of, we interrupted you didn’t we? You can get back to work if you need to, sweetheart.”

The neighbor seemed to pick up on the hint, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced down at her wrist watch.  “Oh my, look at that! The time just slipped away from me! I am so sorry to keep you, especially when you are in the middle of something important.”

“I-it’s OK,” finding your voice once more, you regarded her with an uneasy smile, “It was nice to take a little break from it all, and it was nice to meet you too.”

It wasn’t a lie. Despite the immobilizing anxiety, offensive annoyances, and ever present fear that was weighing you down the entire conversation, this chance meeting was like finding an air pocket in a sinking submarine. It rejuvenated you in a sense, treating you to a taste of ordinary life. You didn’t know what was going to come after this moment. Whether you would survive the pending punishments you were sure to receive or if you would ever see this woman again after Strade shut the door was anyone’s guess. But those worries were for the future, for now, you basked in the brief normalcy of it all, relishing the feeling of almost freedom that was only a few taunting steps away.

“I would say I’d love to see your creative project once it’s done, but it looks like it may be a little much for me. “ She giggled airily, giving you a kind smile, “But regardless, I hope it is a success! I don’t know how it couldn’t be, what with all the love and effort you have clearly put into it!”

“Yes, you can really see the passion reflected in her work,” Strade remarked jovially, making you cringe, “Seeing her like this really inspires me to work my hardest too.”

He smiled down at you, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned over your shoulder, “She’s really helped teach me that all the time and energy you pour into your work and hobbies is well worth the reward.”

This time, you were unable to stop the shudder his words elicited.

“Well, this pesky lady won’t take up anymore of your evening,” she started to turn away, giving a small wave as she did so, “It’s always a pleasure Strade, and it was very nice to meet you (Name)! I look forward to seeing you more in the future!”

Time seemed to slow as you felt Strade leave your side, offering his support to her as she hobbled her way down the stairs. It all felt unreal watching the two-the cheery expression that lit up Strade’s face, the pleasant aura that surrounded the woman he spoke to, the smile that you had forced upon your face as you waved her goodbye.

The sluggish, serene nature of it all made it feel like you were caught in a dream, one that would very shortly turn into a nightmare.

After Strade had made sure she was secure, he made his way back up the stairs, giving her one more cursory wave before shutting the door and bolting it closed. He pressed his face against the peephole, placing his hands on either side of the door frame in a white knuckled grip. For several drawn out seconds he watched what you assumed was his neighbor making her way back to her house, tapping his foot impatiently until he had confirmed she was back inside of her home.

Strade took a step back, slapping a hand over his eyes. He massaged them a bit before slowly dragging his palm down the length of his face. Releasing a groan of irritation, he slammed his fist down hard against the front door, rattling it against the wooden frame. It rattled you as well, fully drawing your attention back to your impending doom.

 “Scheisse,” he grumbled after a lengthy sigh, shaking his head derisively, “That old bitch just HAD to come at the most inopportune time, didn’t she? Even after I told her to not come over unannounced, she waltzes over here like she fucking owns the place! What a pain in my fucking ass.”

Now that Mrs. Schmidt was out of the picture, you felt her absence profoundly. Without her obtrusion barring its closure, the door was once more locked tight, effectively cutting you off from the fresh air and sunshine you were relishing moments prior. The outside world that had been dangled before you was gone nearly the moment you experienced it. Gloom replaced azure skies, your pending punishment looming like a dark cloud as you were once more reminded that while in his grasp, you were nothing more than a caged animal.

The future you had avoided thinking about had become the present- all that was left was to face Strade. How would he deal with you for causing such an inconvenience? What fresh hell awaited you now that you were alone?

“I-I’m s-sorry.”

The apology came as a jittery squeak, choppy breathing bouncing the words that tumbled from your pouty lips, “I’m so sorry Strade, I-I should have been paying more attention! If I didn’t drop that bottle, if I would have kept a better grip on the stupid thing, she never would have seen me. I am so, so sorry! This was a dumb, stupid mistake and it will never happen again! I won’t go in the kitchen or near the door at all, I’ll stay away from windows and I’ll peek to make sure no one is outside when I move around the house. I’ll be more careful, I promise! I’m sorry… Please…”

At some point during your babbling, you had started to cry. Your voice becoming such a blubbery, quavering mess that your words were now a slurry of unintelligible noises, the message you were trying to relay just barely recognizable over the sobbing. Tears stained your vision, making the world appear as wavering as your body felt, like any moment you would topple over and never stand up again.

In attempt to compose yourself, you moved to hastily wipe the tears from your eyes. Desperately rubbing away the signs of your outburst, Strade’s large hand landed atop your head. Curling his fingers into your hair, you flinched at the sensation, stiffening as you braced yourself for the inevitable pain that was to follow.

Any moment he’d clench his fist, latching onto your tresses in a death grip before roughly jerking you to the ground.  Your tormentor would then drag you down to the basement, amped up and ready to do god knows what to you to alleviate his tension and punish your transgressions. These very well could be your last few minutes alive, all because of one stupid mistake. Your breathing became even more erratic as his hand lingered, the anxiety of it all so overwhelming that your vision began to spot. Darkness was quickly consuming you, your heart pounding so violently in your chest you wondered if it would give out before Strade even had his chance to destroy you.

“Hey now, it’s not your fault that old bird doesn’t know how to mind her own goddamn business!”

In stark contrast to what you were expecting, Strade chuckled blithely. Instead of grabbing a hold of you, his hand began to rub your head, tousling your hair playfully. Confusion kept you planted firmly in place as you hesitantly looked up at Strade’s face, finding no trace of the immense anger you expected in his expression. If anything, seeing your response seemed to melt his mild annoyance, replacing it with a look of mirthful amusement while he scrubbed at your head like a dog.

“It’s fucking obnoxious though, isn’t it? How one person can come over and mess up your entire day?”

Doing your best to ignore his leering smile, he continued to speak, “That woman just doesn’t know how to shut up, if I let her flap her mouth too much the whole goddamn neighborhood will be up my ass about this. I guess I’m just lucky that she’s old as sin and starting to lose it, if she harps about you too much I can brush it off as signs of onset dementia. Should be easy enough to get people to believe, and besides that, at her age she’s knocking at deaths door so I probably won’t have to worry about her for all that much longer anyway.”

As he guffawed at his own cruel flippancy, you found little assurance in his callous words.  Shivering slightly, you had a hard time convincing your brain that you had made it out of the woods, that all was forgiven and soon to be forgotten. He felt you shiver beneath his hand, garnering his attention. He shot you a bemused glance, “What’s the matter, (Name)? I thought mein Mädchen would be thrilled to be off the hook right now, but are you actually disappointed? If you really want, I can conjure up some disciplinary action right now-“

“No,” you cut him off, desperation flooding your voice, “thank you Strade. Truly, thank you for understanding, and I promise it won’t happen again!”

Strade shot you a brief smile before releasing a breathy sigh, his hand falling limply from your head to rest on his hip. His eyes darted back to his neighbor’s house, a pensive frown forming on his lips.

“With all that said, I should probably still have a backup plan in place to cover my bases. Now that the neighborhood has a new darling to gossip about, we can’t just pretend like she doesn’t exist.” his eyes traveled back your way, causing unease to blossom in your chest, “I wonder what the story should be. We could ‘break up’ I suppose, but I feel like that would cause a shit show in its own way…”

His voice trailed off as he mulled it over, a spark coming across his features when a new idea donned on him.

“Or maybe… Maybe you could make the rare appearance every now and again, at one of our block parties or a cook out or something?”

Your brain struggled to process what he was saying, his suggestion so outlandish you were sure you had hallucinated him speaking it. “… What?”

His piercing eyes stayed locked on your petrified state, wearing an indecipherable expression as he mulled over his words. Without his typical cheekiness padding the suggestion, you couldn’t easily decipher if this was another sadistic attempt at feeding you false hope or something he was actually considering. To add to the uncertainty, you also couldn’t decide which option would be better for you in the long run. The suggested intimacy of posing as his public girlfriend made your skin crawl, but you couldn’t deny the joy rising within you at the thought of getting out of this house and being around other people. The idea of interacting with the outside world was too tantalizing to ignore, and you found yourself fixating on it the longer the quandary persisted. Would it be worth it, you wondered? Could this be your opportunity finally, after so much abuse, to find a little reprieve?

Excitement surged inside of you, your heart fluttering in your chest. Hope. For once in a very long time, you began to feel tangibly hopeful.

After several long seconds of silence, Strade’s face bloomed into a huge grin. He snickered as he closed his eyes, cocking his head to the side as if he had just witnessed you doing something he found truly adorable.

“I’m joking (Name), no need to look so distraught!” His smile grew as he gave you another firm pat on the head, “Didn’t get your hopes up, did I? Sorry, but it would require a lot of training to get you to the point where I could trust you not to cause problems in public, and as much as I would love to devote the time to that intensive training, there are just too many outliers that pose major problems for our current arrangement.”

He leaned forward, encroaching on your personal space so that he could look you directly in the eye. He cinched his brow, a look of mock sympathy displayed on his features as he cooed at you condescendingly, “You understand, right mein Schatz?”

Unsure of how else to respond, you gave a quick nod to confirm that you at least heard his words. Your brain felt like soup asyour new found hope fizzled and died, just as it seemed prone to do. All the flip flopping, uncertainty, and dread of the last fifteen minutes left your mind muddled and hazy, exhaustion creeping over you from the mental and emotional gymnastics. At this point, you weren’t even sure any of what had occurred in the past twenty minutes was even real so much as it was just some weird, unfortunate hallucination your mind conjured to further torment you.

“Good girl!” He gave your cheek a few light smacks to punctuate his compliment, before straightening himself to his full height, stretching as he did so. “You catch on quick (Name), it’s one of the things I really like about you. Thanks for seeing things from my perspective!”

Giving a slight sigh of relief, you figured this would mark the end of the conversation. He’d tell you to step back from the door, turn your collar back on, and go about doing whatever the hell he was about to do, leaving you in relative peace.

But as his beady eyes continued to linger on you, you couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. They trailed the length of your body, methodically taking in every inch of you with a gaze so intense it nearly burned. You desperately wanted to shrink in on yourself and cover yourself in any way you could, hide away to escape the assault of his stare. Though you were fully clothed, his attention made you feel naked, exposed and bare as he openly ogled you. If there was one thing you had learned while being trapped with Strade, it was that his undivided attention was never a good thing.

“Maybe it’s conceited to say” he positioned himself so that his body was facing yours, taking a step to close the small gap of distance that separated you, “but it really is nice work. What I have done to you, that is.”

His voice was low and rumbling, an edge to it that hinted at something you didn’t want to ruminate on. Unable to stand the intensity any longer, you folded your arms across your chest, hunching your shoulders to conceal yourself the best you could. It was a weak defense, but the only one you had.

Strade’s hands shot out like whips, grabbing hold of each of your arms in a unyielding grip. Yanking them away from your chest, he tugged you roughly towards him, spinning you around so that your back was flush against his chest and stomach. Once in place, he took hold of your arms once more, pushing them up so that they were in front of your face.

“Keep them there.”

Warm breath tickled your ear as he loomed over your shoulder, his cheek pressed flush against your head as he gave his command. He slowly released his hold on your arms, his hands hovering for a moment, testing the waters to see if you would continue to obey. Without his support the limbs shook violently, but you dared not move them.

As you kept your arms in place, Strade languidly dragged his fingers down their length, sighing wistfully as they traced over the scars that littered them.  Admiring his own handiwork, you felt his breathing growing labored. Your body moved in time with each rise and fall of his chest as he remained plastered behind you, his course fingers gingerly ghosting the length of your arms at a hypnotizingly steady pace.

He remained this way for several minutes, unspeaking as his fingers danced over the past wounds he had inflicted upon you. The gentleness of his touch was shocking, eliciting goosebumps in the wake of his caress. In an attempt to calm yourself, you squeezed your eyes shut. If you could focus on only the sensation of his touch it was easier to pretend it was not his arms you were nestled in, that it was not his calloused fingers tracing you so delicately. If you could not see him, if you could will his presence away, you could curb some of the self-loathing you felt in admitting that this exceptionally rare moment of tenderness felt good.

Once he was satisfied with surveying your arms, his hands trailed to your shoulders. Balling into fists, he took a shuddering breath as he latched on to the fabric of your shirt, using his grip on you to drag you farther into the house. “I want to see more, “he growled behind you, his composure slipping as you awkwardly stumbled backwards, “I want to make more.”

The moment you reached the living room he shoved you to the ground, ordering you to stay still while he made a hurried side trip into the kitchen. Though your panicked brain screamed at you to run, your body refused to budge, the sheer terror this new turn of events caused paralyzing you, halting any form of action.

It wasn’t long before Strade returned to the room, massive kitchen knife in hand as he stalked towards you. He wasted no time in mounting you, straddling your stomach between thick, muscled legs. With his weight upon you, cinched between his thighs, there was no hope of escape. Even if your numb limbs finally decided to listen to you and take action, it was far too late to escape. Whimpers creaked from your throat as he took hold of the collar of your shirt, placing the sharp edge of the knife against the fabric as he began to cut.

“You really are a good girl, (Name),” he panted over you, his knife nicking your skin as it erratically sawed through your shirt and bra, causing sharp, pained gasps to be squeezed from your throat. Strade’s smile grew with each sound you made, the excitement of it all driving him into a frenzy. “You’ve done everything I’ve ever asked, listen to everything I say. But you’re problem is that you’re just too irresistible, mein schatz. Es macht mich wahnsinnig.”

With your top now completely shredded you started to squirm, softly pleading for him to let you go as you maneuvered your body in any way that may loosen his hold on you. Tears stung your eyes as he clamped his legs tighter, your act of resistance causing a growing bulge to press uncomfortably into your stomach.

“Making a man lose his composure like this is enough to warrant a punishment in and of itself,” he released a shaky sigh as he pointed the tip of his knife over your exposed chest, pressing down until it had pierced your skin. Crying out, you wrapped your hands around his and began to pull, tugging as hard as you could in an effort to try and pull the blade from your body. But he was far stronger, and it seemed that the more you struggled against him, the deeper he plunged his blade.

“Aw come on now, don’t be like that,” he mocked, his voice dripping in lust, “I just want to play around a little bit, but you’re making it really hard not to lose control (Name).”

He abruptly pulled back, wresting his knife wielding hand from your grasp to raise it higher in the air. As he reared back, your arms folded across your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself. Scrunched up as much as you could, your arms and hands guarded your face and chest as you waited, bracing for impact. And instant later you felt a rush by your head, followed directly by a searing pain that emanated from your shoulder. Your wide eyes flicked over to see the thick knife stabbed into the plush carpet, inches from your head. The blade had ripped into you on the way down, tearing into the flesh and muscle of your upper arm. You screamed as blood flowed from the deep gash, seeping into the carpet beneath you.

“Uh oh,” Strade’s sing-song voice called above you, “That’s probably gonna leave a stain, huh? That’s why I do this kind of shit in the basement. It’s much easier to clean up my little ‘projects’ down there!”

He gave a throaty laugh as he ripped the knife from the carpet, the violent withdrawal of the blade sending a fresh wave of agony through you. You flinched as Strade clasped his hand over the open wound, whimpering loudly as he applied pressure. It may have been an attempt at quelling the blood flow, but as you felt him jab his fingers deeper into the wound, it became clear he was deriving immense enjoyment from the act, grinning from ear to ear as you winced at the stinging sensation.

“Hey now, don’t be too upset! This sort of thing happens during the creative process, right? Things get messy, it’s the price you pay for creating works of art,” your blood ran cold as his beastial eyes bore down on you, the rest of his face offputtingly serene as his wide grin continued to spread, “And YOU may just be my magnum opus! It’s such a treat having you as my own little personal canvas~”

Releasing your shoulder, he moved once more to grasp his knife with his bloody hand. He licked a stray drop that began to creep down his wrist, shuddering in pleasure as he tasted you, taking in your horror and butchery with great fervor. With a flick of his wrist, the blade slid across your chest, leaving an angry trail of crimson in its wake. You screamed once more as blood poured from the pulsating wound, streaming down your chest until it washed your breasts in gore. Strade groaned at the sight. Driven by his craving for carnage, he readied his blade once more, a crazed smile on his face as he gleefully considered his next move.

“Be careful not to tease me too much (Name), or I may accidentally take this too far.”

[mothwingwritings]

Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh Sleeping Headcanons 🌙💤🛌

Hello everyone! In between fics I have been working on some headcanons, like this one, for your reading pleasure. :) It's some bedtime/sleeping arrangement scenarios feat. you and our favorite murderous companions. <3 It’s dedicated to all the sleepy individuals out there that just want to hit the hay and snooze the day away-I feel you and you are valid. Also there is a bonus plushie headcanon for each character because why not! If you don’t have at least stuffed creature on your bed, this is your sign to love yourself. Go acquire a friend and snuggle up with him, I demand it. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DUE TO THE NATURE OF THESE HEADCANONS AND THE SOURCE MATERIAL, 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: abuse/abusive relationships, noncon/dubcon, forced cuddling, forced interaction, forced relationships, implied kidnapping, being held against your will, reader is threatened and hurt, mentions of/implied sex, very lightly edited.

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Ren/Fox🦊

·      ��  Exceptionally clingy when he sleeps. Honestly like a suction cup. Regardless of if he’s the little or big spoon, he’ll be latched to you the whole night. Wiggle and complain as much as you like, he’s not relinquishing his hold.

·         Even if you two are just taking a little nap together, he always has to have some kind of skin contact with you. Holding hands, cuddling, a limb draped over you, something.  He needs the reminder that you are there and that you aren’t going anywhere, he can’t sleep peacefully without it.

·         He’s warm. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably warm. In winter this poses no problem, but during the summer it’s nearly unbearable. You need to crank the AC to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sweat, but the added cold only makes him cling to you tighter, increasing the heat. He doesn’t seem to mind the warmth at all and takes offense if you try and voice your irritation, giving you an earful (if not worse) over how you need to be more grateful for the affection he douses you with, warning that if you don’t watch yourself, next time it snows you’ll be camping outside with nothing but the clothes on your back. We’ll see how much you miss his warmth then.

·         He’s a night owl, but he also somehow always wakes up before you do. It’s not uncommon for you to be awoken by an eager beastkin shoving a homemade breakfast in your face, excited to start his day with his love by sharing breakfast in bed with you and watching anime. <3

·         Though sometimes he gets a little too excited in the morning, and if that’s the case you’ll be waking up to a very handsy man pawing at you, kissing any and every place his lips can reach, pressing himself against you so you can feel just how excited he is. It’s a good thing you are in bed because by the time he’s done you’ll be so worn out you’ll need some more rest. ^^;

·         Also, he is an avid fan of plushies. If you also collect them your bed is going to be 90% plushies and he is 100% going to use that as an excuse to be squeezed on the bed with you as close as physically possible so as you all can have room. None of them are allowed on the floor, no man is left behind, and he’ll make sure you all fit whether it is comfortable or not.

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Lawrence🌿

·         Lawrence is the exact opposite of Ren when it comes to contact. Though he may fall asleep with you in his arms (or vice versa), he very quickly grows uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, his body used to being the sole person in his bed. Very shortly after he falls asleep, he will unconsciously push you away to try and create distance. No matter how much he may yearn for your contact in his waking hours, he has no control over his subconscious actions. Often times the shoving is much rougher than it needs to be, abruptly (and painfully) waking you up in the process.

·         However, this does not deter him from making you sleep with him. Even if he ends up damn near shoving you off the bed, he wants you to be close to him for as long as and as much as possible.

·         Lawrence is basically nocturnal, and even if you are also a night owl there are bound to be some times when your sleep schedules don’t fall in line with each other. He gets a little excited when you fall asleep when he is awake, taking pleasure in watching you as you slumber. The way you lay near him, completely unguarded and quiet, only the slow rise and fall of your chest denoting that you are alive at all… It does something for him. More than once you’ve woken up to him standing over you, face flushed and tears in his eyes as he’s pumping his dick to the sight of your passed out form. If you wake before he can finish himself, he’s gonna use you to complete the job.

·         In fact, he just likes to stare at you while you sleep in general. He doesn’t have to feel anxious or worried of how you may perceive his gawking if you aren’t aware it’s happening to begin with. It’s a nice chance to really take in and appreciate your beauty without facing any backlash, and it comforts him to know you trust him enough to fall that deeply into slumber in his presence.

·         Doesn’t really get the point of plushies and never really had a strong attachment to stuffed animals as a child, so he doesn’t have any of his own and has no desire to own any. He thinks it’s cute that you like them though, and won’t deny you if you want to take one or two to bed with you. If you gift him one, he’ll be flustered but thankful, hugging it when he is unable to hug you. The little friend is a perfect cuddle buddy for when your sleep schedules don’t align and he doesn’t want to disturb you once you have fallen asleep.

·         Just be mindful that if he gets agitated or you piss him off, he’ll definitely destroy your beloved stuffies, tearing them to shreds with either his bare hands or any of the gardening  tools he has lying around. He’ll instantly feel bad if you begin to cry over it, but at that point it’s too late. It’s best to stop the tears before he turns the assault towards you.

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Strade🔪

·         Strade is all over the place when he sleeps. It doesn’t matter how big the bed is or how little space you take up in it, his presence is unavoidable. You can try and create as much distance as physically possible, scrunching yourself up in a corner in hopes that he doesn’t come in contact with you, and you’ll still end up with him sprawled all over you come morning.

·         He’s also loud. Snoring, grunting, talking in his sleep, he’s so noisy it’s a wonder you can get any sleep at all. You get used to it after a while (you don’t have a choice), but each time he nudges you in his sleep or wakes you up with a particularly loud snore, it’s all just another unpleasant reminder you are stuck with him, unable to find tranquility even in your dreams.

·         He has a tendency to latch on to and keep a close hold of whatever is closest to him while he sleeps. The moment he looks even slightly drowsy you try and stay away from him, not thrilled with the prospect of being smashed up against him for hours on end while he’s pleasantly off in dreamland. Were it anyone else or any other situation, you may find the clinginess endearing, but with Strade it’s just extremely uncomfortable and confusing. You spend the whole time unsure if you want him to wake up and let you go (and thus have to deal with an alert and active monster) or if you want to remain silent and just put up with it, thankful for the rare moment of peace.

·         He sleeps the best after successfully finding and securing a new victim, the gusto and energy that he puts towards spending time with his new ‘friend’ leaves him completely spent by the end of the day. A tired Strade is usually a good thing for you-if he’s worn out, he’s less likely to bother or hurt you. However the opposite is also true, if he hasn’t been able to blow off steam in a while he’ll grow antsy and restless, and he’s bound to make his lack of sleep and overall disgruntlement your problem. Regardless, you won’t get much sleep either way, as you find no contentment in either situation.

·         Though they aren’t really his thing, he is amused by your plushies. While he can see the appeal of them, the only real interest he takes in them is how you react to them. Which ones are your favorite, do you favor one character or animal over another, do you prefer the big and fluffy or small and squishy? Most importantly though, he wants to know how deeply your fondness for them extends and how/if he can use that as a persuasive tool against you in the future. Should they prove to be a promising means of coercion, prepare for quite a few new plush friends to keep you company in the future. :)

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Celia👩‍💼

·         She’s an early riser. Not necessarily because she wants to so much as it’s engrained in her from years of putting in overtime at her corporate job. If you try and pull her back into bed she’ll gripe at you, but is secretly happy that you are willingly making yourself a scapegoat for her laziness. Though on days she absolutely has to get up early, you best be getting up right alongside her to help her get ready for the day or you will be deeply regretting it. She always takes precedence, you can sleep more when she leaves.

·         She’s on edge most of the time and is overall a very light sleeper. If you snore or toss and turn too much, she’ll get pissed off and roughly shove you awake, grumbling obscenities while complaining about how annoying you are being. If she can’t sleep, she certainly isn’t going to let you sleep either.

·         Even if you aren’t a noisy or restless sleeper, she’ll still find constant things to gripe about regarding your sleeping arrangement. Either you take up too much room, or you are encroaching on her personal space, or you have some other sleeping habit she finds grating that you have no control over because you are unconscious when you do it. She doesn’t ever seem overly pleased to share sleeping space with you, and you often wonder why she doesn’t just banish you to the couch or some other place to get your rest.

·         And yet, she never does make you sleep elsewhere.  In fact, it only makes her MORE pissed off if you suggest it, taking it as a personal offense that you don’t want to spend time with her. She won’t admit it to you, but the act of sleeping near someone she doesn’t positively loathe or who isn’t trying to use her in some way is one of the few things that really brings her peace. Even if it’s against your will, having you in bed with her soothes her. It’s honestly the best sleep she has had in ages.

·         She’s not a huge cuddler, but she does like physical confirmation that you are near. Often times she’ll reach out in the night to grab your hand or drape her arm across your body, never smothering, but just enough contact to assure that you are still by her side.

·         She staunchly refuses to have any stuffed animals in her bed, telling you she finds them childish and stupid (whether she actually feels this way or is just pissed you are trying to bring things into her bed that take up even more space is debatable). If she finds any plushies you are hiding she will most likely throw them away on sight. You may be able to get away with a little one, but that’s only if she doesn’t find it or is feeling extremely benevolent.

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Derek🦂

·         The only time Derek shows any kind of ‘affection’ is when he sleeps. Like Strade, he likes to secure himself to things while he slumbers, and if he doesn’t fall asleep with an item (you) already in his arms at some point in the night, he will subconsciously grab onto something (also you) and not relent until he wakes the next morning.

·         The way he clings to you can almost be considered sweet. Wrapping his arms around you securely, burying his face into your chest or the crux of your neck as he snuggles up against you as close as physically possible, it makes you momentarily forget what a monster the man beside you actually is. It’s almost as if he’s a child huddled up close to a parent, seeking comfort from the things that go bump in the night.  The spell is broken if he happens to be awoken during one of these cuddle sessions, and he’ll take out his embarrassment over the situation by treating you even crueler than he typically does.

·         One of the few niceties he allows you is sleeping in his bed as opposed to the floor-but it comes at a price.  It’s an honor to be able to sleep next to him nightly in his huge, plush, expensive bed, an honor far too good for the likes of you. He expects to be compensated for his generosity, so you’d best be ready to do any and everything he asks or desires at the drop of a hat, no matter how degrading or agonizing it may be. If you want to keep this privilege while preventing as much suffering as possible, you’ll do as he says. (Then again, it’s not like he really needs your active participation to force what he wants out of you, but he does like when you obey him ‘willingly’ and has a tendency to be a smidge less cruel when you follow his instruction).

·         He usually forces you to either sleep nude or in some very compromising/uncomfortable/embarrassing negligee that covers so little you mine as well BE naked. He’s a blanket hog too, and has a penchant for cranking up the AC at night, leaving your only source of warmth to be curling up beside him. You try and fight it at first, but you inevitably give in when the chill gets to be too much (also you aren’t too keen on getting ill in his presence, swallowing your pride is worth it if you can avoid more suffering).

·         He will mercilessly make fun of and belittle you for any stuffed animals you may have or try to sleep with. He’ll infantilize you, asking if you need a binky to go with your stuffy, or tease that he’ll need to put you in diapers so you don’t accidentally shit the bed. However, even with all the constant mocking, he does find it kinda hot when you try and use the plushies as a shield, doing your best to conceal your sniveling face and exposed body behind the fluffy creature as he plows into you ruthlessly. The toy does a shit job shielding you, but it is hilarious to watch you try and hide yourself behind them.

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Mason🐻

·         Despite everything, he’s actually probably the nicest of the lot to sleep with. He’s warm and soft, and when he holds you it’s comforting and shockingly soothing. It’s disconcerting how easily you melt into the same person that caused you so much trauma and torment, haunted by the fact that the arms that now wrap snuggly around you were not so long ago the greatest threat to your life. You don’t know whether you should be more disgusted with him for holding you with such familiarity or yourself for enjoying it as much as you do.

·         The man can sleep almost anywhere. After years of surviving out in the wilderness he has honed his body to handle tough climates and all manner of conditions, granting him the ability to thrive in less than favorable environments. The man could probably fall asleep in the middle of a torrential downpour with nothing but a rock bed beneath him and come out of it completely rested.

·         You aren’t expected to immediately be able to rough it. He realizes this way of life is all fairly new to you and that getting used to nights out in the wilderness has its own learning curve. Because of this, he’s actually surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing. When you camp, he makes sure to bring his best tent and sleeping bag for you to use, even though it’s a hassle to drag around and he himself has long since forgone the need for it. Though it’s nearly impossible to find comfort enough to sleep while stranded deep out in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black of night, all manner of voracious wild animals, and a serial killer, he does his best to make sure you are adequately cared for and as content as you can possibly be.

·         However you best not slack with your survival instincts, this coddling is only a limited time deal. You proved yourself to him once by pulling through his trial, but that doesn’t mean you have a free ride forever. He’ll pamper you a bit in the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but if you grow complacent and begin to let him down… It isn’t going to be a smooth or happy time for either of you. Its best not to betray his expectations, if you do something overly stupid or otherwise show your survival was just a fluke… your sleeping arrangement is going to be the least of your concern.

·         He finds your affinity for stuffed animals a bit juvenile, but also slightly endearing. He can’t deny how cute you look when you are curled up in his bed, nestled amongst various furs and blankets, clutching tight to your favorite plushie while you rest. He enjoys that sight so much that he decides to make you his own plushie for you one day as a gift.

·         It was a strange little lumpy creature he cobbled together from various fabric scraps and other soft, but unidentified, material, all sloppily hand sewn with little black buttons for eyes. It was a true amalgamation of mismatched cloth and stuffing, and to be honest… You weren’t really sure what it was supposed to be. A bear, maybe? Or a raccoon? Regardless, you take it without question, and once he sees it’s been accepted he’s quick to discard your previous plush. He’s accepting of this hobby to a degree-you can have ONE. And since you were smart and picked the better of the two, you don’t need the ratty old one to cling to for company anymore. You have him and you have his gift, everything else is frivolous.

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[mothwingwritings]

BTD/TPOF Valentine's Gifts To You~<3

Look I know Valentine’s was days ago but it’s one of my favorite holidays and I have no chill, so you all have to deal with the residual now. (*-`ω´- )人

THAT BEING SAID- here's a little 'what kinds of gifts/experiences the Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh crew would lavish you with on Valentine's day' imagine, let’s gooo!!! I hope you all enjoy!

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Warnings: Abuse, implied past kidnapping, reader getting hurt, torture, noncon, dubcon, (please forgive the pun but) horrible people taking a stab at an ounce of ‘affection’ and mostly just making things more dreadful for you.

I hope you all enjoy! ˘³˘

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

Ren🦊- Will actually get you a sweet gift, something that he put time and thought into. Chocolates, a stuffed animal, a cute outfit, a figure of your favorite game/anime character that you have been eying, maybe even all of the above if he has the budget (honestly probably all of the above even if he doesn’t have the budget). He’ll present it really cutely too, like rose petal’s littering the ground leading you to the room where all the gifts are neatly displayed, giving a little ‘tah-dah!’ as soon as you discover them. He gets really excited watching you open them, explaining his reasoning behind each and every item he purchased/made you.

“All the chocolates in store looked boring, so I decided to make you some! I added your favorite ingredients, so I hope you like them!”

“This stuffed fox was too cute to leave behind and, well… I was hoping maybe it would sort of remind you of me? Anyway, I couldn’t leave the store without him! He belongs snuggled in your arms, just like I do!”

Just be mindful that in return he’s probably gonna put on a ‘cute romance anime’ of his choosing to end the night and that ‘cute romance anime’ is 100% just going to be hentai. From there, one thing will lead to another and he’ll make sure he gets a nice Valentine’s gift too. :) Oh, and if you don't like any of the gifts... It's best just to keep it to yourself. He'd hate to have to ruin the nice time you are having on this great holiday because you are being ungrateful.

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Lawrence🪴- Flowers is a no brainer, but he doesn’t want to give you something that’s too cliché or that you’ll just throw in a vase to watch slowly die. After mulling it over he decides to give you something with a little more meaning-a plant from his collection that he planted and grew himself. He would most likely pick something like an aglaonema (its valentine colored, right?) or some kind of succulent because they are easier to take care of. He’s a little worried that you are gonna find such a gift weird or see it as a hassle, that no matter how little maintenance the plant takes you’ll just let it end up dying regardless. But he supposes if anything this will be a good test of your bond-will you cherish and nurture the gift he gives you, or will you discard it and let it wither? Don’t make the wrong choice here, it would break his heart. (And your life honestly depends on it.)

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Strade🔪- You were dreading what kind of ‘present’ this man would concoct for you on Valentine’s day, but to your complete surprise he actually prepares something shockingly thoughtful for you. He’s set up a nice little homemade dinner for the two of you in the living room, complete with mood lighting (you hoped he didn’t have any surprise uses for the candles that burned around you), nice dishes and silverware (a rare luxury, considering how he usually makes you eat your food) and some wild flowers he had picked from out in the yard (did they have thorns? Were you gonna find that out the hard way?). The dinner itself is one of your favorite meals, and while it was maybe a tad bit overcooked and plated sloppily, it still tasted incredibly good. The catch? Well, I mean you have to have some kind of entertainment while you eat, right? Good thing Strade has a plethora of ‘home videos’ on deck to enjoy with you while you have your lovely little feast. Maybe watching them will spark something between you two, it’s certainly going to put him in the mood to reenact them with you. It’s Valentine’s Day afterall, why not have a little fun? <3

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Celia👩‍💼- It really just depends on her mood or what is happening the day of. You may end up getting  something nice, a little reward from her for being such a good and obedient pet.  She’ll gift you something thoughtful and sweet, like a nice piece of jewelry, expensive chocolate, or finely aged wine that costs more than you make in an entire month. She’ll be relaxed and pleased as she watches you enjoy her gift, taking satisfaction in how easy it was for her to delight you. On the other hand, if she is in a horrible mood or (god forbid) was forced to spend the holiday with her husband, the only thing you are going to be receiving is the brunt of her frustrations. If he bought her chocolates she’d force you to eat them all in one go, prying your mouth open to shove them in herself if you refuse to do it on your own, cramming them in until you nearly choke. If he bought her flowers she’d flog you with the bouquet, rose thorns tearing into your flesh until you were left in a pile of petals and your own blood, body littered with lacerations and angry red welts. Whatever half assed gift she was given or horrible date she was put through, has now become your problem as she uses you as an outlet for her resentment. And for the final celebratory Valentine’s act, she’d use you however she saw fit to get off (because she sure as hell isn’t getting any pleasure anywhere else tonight). Mine as well make the most of her time with her little sweetheart before she’s forced to go back and face whatever is waiting for her back home. You understand, right honey?

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Derek🦂- Honestly he forgets it’s Valentine’s Day, but it really doesn’t matter. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to get you anything or do anything for you anyway. If anything, he’d buy something for himself that he can either use on you or force you into for his own personal amusement. Some kind of constricting, demeaning latex gimp suit, or maybe a new whip he can assault you with. The more it hurts or humiliates you the better, because nothing brings him more pleasure than watching you suffer and squirm. Regardless of if he remembers the holiday or not, he’ll probably just spend the day mocking, assaulting, and/or torturing you anyway-once he recognizes the date, he may even go a little harder than usual as a treat to himself.  What are you gonna do, cry because your ‘Valentine’ is being mean to you? Hearing you beg, curse, moan, and scream in agony over all that he’s putting you through only makes it better, sweetheart. Like music to his ears! Even though it’s far from your intention, you are the best Valentine he’s ever had and though he won’t admit it, he’s thankful to you for that. Then again, maybe the holiday is just making him feel particularly sappy… Has he ever told you how pretty your tear stained face looks when you are choking on his dick, struggling to breathe as he forces himself down your throat? He’ll have to take a picture to show you next time.

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Mason🌲- He’s not very well versed with the ‘typical’ things people want or do for Valentine’s Day, and quite honestly, he finds it all rather obnoxious. To him it’s just some big show, a way for corporations to profit off people’s affections and sex drives to get them to spend money on cheap tokens of affection. Flower bouquets? They’ll just die. Stuffed animals? There’s no point to them. Jewelry? Useless baubles. No, the TRUE way to show your love for someone is through an EXPERIENCE. And what better experience is there then the thrill of nature? Maybe that makes him seem like a one trick pony- he did first meet you by purchasing you for his hunt, after all. But things were different now, you have proven yourself to him, proven that you have the know-how to survive out in the wilds. Now that you mastered it, you can truly enjoy it. He can tell you still didn’t really trust him (and honestly he isn’t sure you ever truly will) but he has faith you’ll eventually come around to this new way of life with him. He loves taking you out hunting and camping, the excitement he feels stalking his prey, the sense of purpose and connection he experiences living off of nature’s bounty, he’s found its much more enjoyable with you by his side. He hopes you feel it too- the buzz coursing through the air as he finally corners his quarry, how rousing it is when you land the final blow and get to drag your prize back home. He makes you watch as he skins and cleans them, finding importance in the act. You need to witness him doing his craft, learn from him, and really understand that you’re relying on him for your survival. Afterall it’s just the two of you out here now, it’s better to get used to it sooner rather than later. Come on, it’s time you took part in helping him prepare his slaughter. After you are done he’ll use the meat to cook you something nice, or prepare you some jerky so you’ll have something to snack on. This lifestyle is his ongoing gift to you, darlin’. Happy Valentine’s Day. ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[puppycassie]

Please pookie, anything about Cain from btd🙏 Even headcanons will be good

♡ I hear you pooks <3 !!

! you guys know the rules, especially with btd, 18+ ! 🩷🍰

some of my headcanons for cain, a mix of relatively sfw and nsfw. It's cain, he's nasty, he's gross, he's for the insane mfs (I see you guys mwa <3) ♡

♡ MAJOR God complex, he just wants an obedient pet to worship him, he doesn't see you as a human in the slightest

♡ you're merely entertainment for him, he enjoys hurting you. he will leave as many cuts, bruises and scrapes on you as possible

♡ "pet, meat, bitch"

♡ you are only allowed to address him as "God" or "master", he expects you to bow your head or even drop to your knees whenever he approaches you

♡ he LOVES face fucking. especially with you completely restrained, making you gag, cry and choke on his cock as well as slapping your face with it

♡ will make you swallow everything he gives you, cum, piss and blood

♡ if you dare refuse to swallow his cum, he will fill a wine glass with it and make you drink it in front of him after leaving it for a few days, making you thank him after every sip

♡ will make you grind on his shoe, cooing at you mockingly "that's right, hump it like the bitch in heat you are, pet"

♡ he will cum and spit on your face, telling you he's 'making you pretty for him'

♡ will carve his name all over your body and make you lick the bloody knife clean after, not caring if you cut your tongue

♡ "beg for me to stretch you out, puppet"

♡ takes you at any time he wants, you're freeuse to him. telling you it's your purpose to serve him

♡ makes you crawl around the house, either completely naked or wearing lingerie that he chose

___________________________________

thank you for the request, lovely anon ♡

[puppycassie]

♡🦴 please send requests I wanna write something but I don't know what you guys wanna see ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა <3 (fandom list in pinned post!)

[puppycassie]

About me

hii I'm cassie (call me cass) I use she/her and I'm 19 ♡

I'm a writer and will use this blog to write for fandoms I'm in and take requests!! ^^ this blog is strictly 18+ due to the content discussed, ty!! ♡

what I'll write

the games I will write and take requests for are: (pink = my favs)

. boyfriend to death

. boyfriend to death 2

. the price of flesh

. somethings wrong with sunny day jack

. lurking for love

. your boyfriend

. john doe

(may add ♡)

my current tags

🎀 romance / fluff

🍰 nsfw / smut

🩷 headcannons

# ♡ cassie reblogs 🦴 (reblogs)

# ♡ cassie rambles 🦴 (non writing things)

# ♡ cassie replies 🦴 (replying to asks that aren't a request)

# ♡ cassie's requests 🦴 (answering requests)

# ♡ cassie writes 🦴 (my writing)

thank u for reading ♡

[mothwingwritings]

*°:⋆ₓₒMaster Listₓₒ⋆:°*

*Italicized means explicit n s f w

LAST UPDATED 5/21/24

My fics/drabbles/headcanons typically get tagged with #mothwingswritings. Responses to asks generally are tagged #mothresponse

JoJos Bizarre Adventure: 

~FICS~

Treasured Friend- Fem!readerxJospeh Joestar (yandere)

Halcyon Days Pt.1- Fem!readerxJosuke Higashikata (yandere) PART TWO

Save The Date- Fem! readerxJean Pierre Polnareff

~Asks/Scenarios~

J Yandere Alphabet Jotaro

Baki The Grappler:

~FICS/HEADCANONS~

✦✧✦✧The Stepcest Hanma Daughter Chronicles✦✧✦✧

Full Fics:

In The Dead Of Night- Fem!readerxYujiro Hanma

Special Treatment- Fem!readerXYujiro Hanma

Interlude- Fem!readerXYujiro Hanma

Paradise- Fem!readerxYujiro Hanma

Asks/Side Stories:

Hanma Family Yandere Stepcest Blurb

Musashi With A Crush On Yujiro’s Step Daughter

Pickle Takes An Interest In The Hanma Stepsister/Daughter

Naive Hanma Daughter Used Inappropriately

Muhammad Ali Jr. Getting Flirty With Hanma Sibling/Daughter

Yujiro Forcing His Step Daughters Hand In Marriage

Hanma Step Sister/Daughter With Luffy Like Abilities

Yujiro Stepdaughter Kissing

Breeding Kink W/Pregnant Reader

Yuichiro Enters The Scene

✦✧✦✧Yujiro Hanma✦✧✦✧

In The Dead Of Night- Fem!readerxYujiro Hanma

Special Treatment- Fem!readerXYujiro Hanma

Interlude- Fem!readerXYujiro Hanma

Paradise- Fem!readerxYujiro Hanma

G, O, A, K and H Yandere Alphabet

ABO Alpha Yujiro

✦✧✦✧Kaoru Hanayama✦✧✦✧

There’s Honey On The Moon Tonight- Fem!reader X Kaoru Hanayama (Yandere)

H and T Yandere Alphabet

Sanctuary-Fem!reader X Kaoru Hanayama

✦✧✦✧Baki Hanma✦✧✦✧

R and Y Yandere Alphabet

✦✧✦✧Katsumi Orochi✦✧✦✧

When The Smoke Clears- Fem!Reader X Katsumi Orochi

A and D Yandere Alphabet

Family Man-Fem!ReaderXYandere Katsumi Orochi

✦✧✦✧Biscuit Olivia✦✧✦✧

Biscuit Romance Headcanons

✦✧✦✧Jun Guevara✦✧✦✧

Jun Guevara Romance Headcanons

Shy/weak F!Reader X Doyle and Guevara

✦✧✦✧Jack Hanma✦✧✦✧

The Only One For Me- Fem!readerxJack Hanma (yandere)

F Yandere Alphabet

H and J Yandere Alphabet

Basic Maintenance-F!ReaderXJack Hanma

✦✧✦✧Motobe Izou✦✧✦✧ 

Kiss the Pain Away-Fem!readerXMotobe Izou

✦✧✦✧Pickle✦✧✦✧

C and F Yandere Alphabet

✦✧✦✧Hector Doyle✦✧✦✧

C and D Yandere Alphabet

Shy/weak F!Reader X Doyle and Guevara

✦✧✦✧Multiple✦✧✦✧

Three’s A Crowd- Retsu Kaioh x Fem!reader x Katsumi Orochi

~SCENARIOS/ASKS~

Valentine’s Scenarios

Christmas Traditions Scenarios

Shy/weak F!Reader X Doyle and Guevara

Musashi With A Crush On Yujiro’s Step Daughter

Pickle Takes An Interest In The Hanma Stepsister/Daughter

Why The Baki Men Love You

Naive Hanma Daughter Used Inappropriately

Muhammad Ali Jr. Getting Flirty With Hanma Sibling/Daughter

Yujiro Forcing His Step Daughters Hand In Marriage

Hanma Step Sister/Daughter With Luffy Like Abilities

Yujiro Stepdaughter Kissing

ABO Alpha Yujiro

Misc Baki character reacting to reader faking an orgasm

Misc Baki men reacting to daredevil reader

Baki Height Difference

Breeding Kink W/Pregnant Reader (Stepcest)

Jack with aphrodisiac saliva

Doppo, Shibukawa, Motobe, Biscuit, And Yujiro As Your Sugar Daddy

Yuichiro Enters The Scene (stepcest)

What Picture Of You The Baki Men Choose As Their Phone Background, Pt. 1

~BLURBS/MISC~

Hanma Family Yandere Stepcest Blurb

Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh:

🔪Strade🔪

Frohe Weihnachten-Fem!readerXStrade

Green-Fem!ReaderXStrade

🦊Ren Hana/Fox🦊

Release-Fem!readerXRen Hana

The Innocent Act Of Dredging Up The Past-Fem!ReaderXRen Hana

Ren Hana As A Father

🩸Multiple🩸

Valentine’s Day Gift Headcanons

Sleeping Headcanons

Tokyo Revengers:

~Fics~

✦✧✦✧Kisaki Tetta✦✧✦✧

Thankful- Fem!readerxKisaki Tetta

✦✧✦✧Taiju Shiba✦✧✦✧

There’s Just No One Like You- Fem!readerXTaiju Shiba (yandere) PART TWO PART THREE

Y and B Yandere Alphabet

From the Heart-Fem!readerXTaiju Shiba

✦✧✦✧Chifuyu Matsuno✦✧✦✧

E and Y Yandere Alphabet

~Blurbs~

Taiju Shopping

Bouncer:

~SCENARIOS/ASKS/HEADCANONS~

Tokyo Fist Relationship/Dating Headcanons (with Fem! reader)

Final Fantasy XIV:

~FICS~

Taming Of Beasts- Fem!Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Dreaming Of Worlds End-WOL ReaderXZenos Yae Galvus

~HEADCANONS~

Jealous G’raha and Aymeric

Honkai Star Rail:

Apologies-Fem!ReaderXYandere Welt Yang

Guilty Gear:

~FICS~

Those Who Dream Of Heaven- Fem!readerxLeo Whitefang

[ryugasama]

Strade X Reader- Run for your life (Boyfriend to Death)

(Strade and the game boyfriend to death belongs to their original creators. Here is the website for the game: http://boyfriendtodeath.com . I haven’t played it, but if you want to play it go ahead. I only seen this game by watching a few YouTubers play it, so here’s the story. I hope its good.)

You just wanted to have a fun time at the bar, you just wanted to find someone to love. You never wanted any of this, you never asked for him to appear. “What have I done to deserve this?” You prayed to God every night before you fell asleep on the cold basement floor. You were scared, you were hungry, you were cold. Every time he offered food, you would just smile like a scared kitten shaking your head no. But little did you know that today your life would change, it was up to you what it’s going to be like: For the better? Or for the worst?

You lifted your head groggily when you heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. He smiled at you and went into his pocket for a energy bar. He dangled it in front of your face almost teasingly while your stomach rumbled of hunger.

Strade: Good morning sweetie, are you hungry yet?

You looked down avoiding his gaze and shook your head solemnly no. He stroked your hair and got up laughing joyfully.

Strade: It’s been three weeks since you last ate, you’re going to die of starvation you know. Then we won’t have fun anymore.~

His eyes stared down at you while a deep blush appeared on his face, you knew he was thinking dirty thoughts again. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed the knife in his hands. “Oh no, please not again.” You whimpered silently to yourself. The knife that has cut you so many times, and only stabbed you once in your right shoulder tinted in the light, and bounced off the walls. He licked the blade and snickered watching your eyes turn wide with fear.

Strade: I love that look on your face, it drives me mad.~

He bent down to your level holding the knife up to your forearm.

Strade: Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?~

(Y/N): W-wait, Strade…… please……

He sliced your skin swiftly and squeezed it to make your crimson blood flow out from the opening. His face only kept getting a darker red.

Strade: Mmmmmm hmmmmm.~

He licked your blood from the knife and leaned into your to kiss your neck softly while slicing your other arm. You whimpered loudly this time, fear filling your whole body.

(Y/N): Strade, no….. please….. don’t do this…..

He laughed and yanked your hair harshly making you scream in pain, it felt like he was trying to rip it from out of your skull.

(Y/N): Strade!!

He pushed his chest up to yours and shoved you to the ground. You felt your legs and elbows scrape, the fire like pain brought tears to your eyes.

Strade: Ahhh yes! Yes, yell my name like that again!

He shoved the knife deep into your stomach making a ear piercing shriek launch out of your mouth. You coughed up blood instantly and yanked at the ropes wildly around your wrists trying to break free. His laugh got more evil, and his pupils got even smaller. “I got to get away, now!” You screamed again when he forcefully pulled the knife out of your stomach. Blood oozed out more, and you suddenly felt faint. “N-no….” With out warning, you kicked him between his legs making him drop the knife. “This is my chance!” You desperately yanked yourself free and grabbed the knife shoving it deep into his hunched over back,

Strade: Ow, you son of a bitch!

You ran up the stairs and flew out the basement door, your vision getting blurred and dizzy while blood oozed our heavily from your cuts and stab wound. “I-I gotta get out of here….” You ran to the door and pulled on the locked knob, banging on it yelling for help. Hoping someone would hear you, but nothing. You heard Strade’s footsteps angrily stomp up th stairs.

Strade: Oh, now you’ve done it!

You hurried to the living room and tried to open the window, it was glued shut. Strade’s voice was getting closer.

Strade: Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU?!

You ran to the kitchen trying to open the windows only to get the same result. You ducked behind the kitchen counter looking for a weapon to defend yourself with, there were no knives of forks, or anything at all. “He must’ve took them all.”

Strade: Y/N, IF YOU COME OUT RIGHT NOW I PROMISE NOT TO HURT YOU! MAN’S HONOR!

“Yeah, right.” You thought looking around for some where to run. You were about to run upstairs, but then froze when you heard his footsteps in the kichen.

Strade: Oh Y/N!~

You noticed your blood leaving a trail to where you were on the floor and gasped, then you heard a familiar voice whisper in your ear.

Strade: Hello sweetie.~

You screamed looking at Strade and flew up the stairs painfully gripping your stomach.

Strade: Why are you running? There’s no where to go, or anywhere to hide.

You ran into what looked like his room and locked the door tight, pushing a heavy desk in front of it. You looked at the door walking backwards only to fall on the floor. Your breathing was heavy, you could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs. The door knob jiggled a couple of times before he lightly knocked on the door.

Strade: Y/N, there’s no escape sweetie. Even if you do manage to run and hide, I will find you. Now be good, and open this door.

It was silent for a moment before he constantly banged on the door angrily.

Strade: OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR!!!

You scrambled to your feet and went through his dresser drawers for clothes. You managed to find a white shirt and brown jeans and put them on. Then you noticed it was quiet, too quiet. “Where did he go?” You put your ear to the door to listen for noise, then screamed when a chainsaw suddenly broke through the door near your head. You ran to the window hearing Strade curse to himself lowly.

Strade: Come on sweetie, be good. Why must you put yourself through unnecessary stress?

You felt like you were gonna be sick and looked around for something heavy and hard. There was a hammer near his desk side, you took it and swung as hard as you can at the window shattering all the glass.

Strade: Shit!

You began to climb out the window, but was pulled back inside and was thrown to the ground. Strades hands went around your throat squeezing the oxygen out of you. You gasped for air feeling weak.

(Y/N): Strade, I’m sorry. I’ll be good.

Strade: No, you had your chance. You crossed the line sweetie!

You kicked you legs around wildly but he kept his body weight down on you. He smiled happily.

Y/N: I-I…..

Your vision started to get dark.

Y/N: I DON’T WANT TO DIE!!

You gained energy and bit his arm making him pull away breathing painfully. “Now!” You ran to the window and jumped out falling into the ice cold alley floor. Your arm snapped and bent in a unnormal way. You screamed out in pain while getting up and limping away. “I have to get out of here.” You thought lumping back to your place.

It took you a while, but you finally made it back to your old place. It felt so good to be back, but you knew that you couldn’t stay. You used your good arm to grab and bag and pack your things, then went into the bathroom to fix your wounds. It hurt like hell when you poured alcohol on to clean any infections, but what did you expect? For it to tickle? When you were done you held your broken arm and went back into your room throwing the bag over your shoulder.

The door closed behind you and Strade slowly walked up to you with his knife still in his back. Your eyes grew wide when you felt hands rest on your hips tightly.

Strade: Hello sweetie.~

He pushed you onto the bed and made you face him, ropes in his hands.

Strade: You’ve been bad today, Y/N. I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you.~

He laughed excitedly tying your wrists to the bed poles, pain shot out through your whole body making you cry unknowingly.

Strade: Awww, don’t cry sweetie. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.~

He reached behind him and pulled the knife out from his back, then placed the coolness of the blade onto my chest. Your energy was gone, you couldn’t fight back. Your vision going dark. You felt your pants being removed, then complete pain in your lower body. Your eyes closed and you couldn’t move at all, your body went numb to all feeling. All you could do was lay there helplessly listening to Strades moans and groans that made you feel sick. Then the knife went straight through your chest and turned. You wanted to scream to jolt up in pain, but you were stuck, paralyzed. You felt Strade smear blood on you, then nothing. All the sounds, all your oxygen, all your sanity gone.

*YOU DIED, STRADE WARNED YOU.*