#btd fanfic

[soup-in-my-fly]

Don’t let him know, Law, don’t let him know you’re straight JORKING it

(Fanart for Fervent Care of Dying Things)

[roxety]

Strade accidentally “adopting” (kidnapping) another beastkin. You’re docile and cute enough that he doesn’t see the point in getting rid of you.

His first mistake.

You weren’t that bad of an addition at first - it was like having two of ren. Since you two were so similar he saw no problems in rooming both of your together. He knew you were too scared to try anything ….

The first thing strade should’ve noticed was the old blankets he spared you two piled up into a heap. He starred at it for atleast 10 mins, trying to decide if it was a sign of something or not. “Hm,” He shrugged it off, walking to the kitchen to get a beer.

His second mistake.

Two months later he finally notices you and ren’s closeness. In his mind, ren wasn’t all that fond of you so it set off some alarm bells to see the two of you cuddled up in the “nest”. He decided he’d deal with it in the morning.

His third and last mistake.

Maybe he was too kind with the punishment, because now you’re sitting shamefully infront of him, hands and tail protectively rapped around your rounded stomach.

[angel-sweets666]

head rubs and cuddles with strade

Strade x afab reader (like one mention of boobs) one shot

warning: violence and badly translated german

DO NOT DO WHATEVER HAPPENS IN THIS, it’s purely for the freaky people out there (I see you)

it was rare you came to strade for comfort since your captivity, even rarer he was willing to give you comfort. One day you just… had enough, you needed cuddles, you needed to cry in someone’s arms. Unfortunately the one other person in the house was strade, a 35 year old man who kidnapped you and keeps you like a doll. Regularly hitting you, screaming at you and getting drunk, then trying to win back your affection by either giving you things, letting you sleep in bed with him( which was more a punishment then a reward) trying to act like some sort of a loving husband ect. However he never went as far as to rape you, which you were grateful for.

you waddled past the bathroom door and past his bedroom door, finding him laid on the couch with a tank top; sweat pants and a cigar hanging out his mouth “ah,Morgenliebe” the thick German accent coating his speech “morning…” you grumbled “your bruises are healing well” he mentioned as he pointed to your body, covered in bruises and scars from his fits of rage. You knew he was more gentle with you then most victims, you knew by the screaming coming from the basement. Doesn’t mean what he does is right either way “Uhm.. yeah” you looked down at your bruise and cut covered legs. The tears began to well up and burn, you sniffled. You had be holding this in all morning and needed to get it out, you quickly walked towards strade and flopped onto his chest, cuddling up to him “leibe what is this?” He said with a confused tone “I just need a cuddle…” you grumbled back. Strade smirked and grabbed the back of your head, gently rubbing your scalp with his rough and large hands “aw big baby needs a cuddle…” his grip tightens around your head and he yanked your head back “what makes you think I’ll give you one..?” He grinned at you, the tears welling up even more and pouring downwards. The look of fear in your eyes was adorable to strade “don’t worry! I’ll give you one mein leibe” he exclaimed as he placed you back on his chest.

you buried your face into his chest as the tears turned into sobs, he pet the back of your head eithe the occasional yank, bite or slap. It was not a peaceful cuddle.. but that’s all you could get…

[1schadenfreude1]

fluff headcanons for ren law and strade plsss :3

Thanks for the request <3 Ren - He himself is so fluffy. His ears and tail and fur are so soft and velvety - He loves cuddles and is pretty clingy, just being near you makes him so happy - He has nightmares about Strade and squeezes you extra tight when he's scared. It can be hard to wake him up Law - Not really a cuddly guy, but sometimes he stands a little too close for comfort so he can smell you - He has names for all his plants, and they start to seem like real people to you - He loves long walks in the park and out in nature Strade - The most fluff you get out of him is cuddling up on the couch when watching TV - He's not super cuddly but he is soft and warm and doesn't mind when you snuggle - He's a goddamn heater when he sleeps, there's no need for blankets when he's all up against you snoring away

[mommysmilk]

Word for ren drabbles: ruined

🔪Ren Hana x Reader🔪

”You’re fucking crazy! Don’t touch me!” You screamed while trying to kick your captor. He jumped out of the way, growling, his ears flattening against his head.

”It’s been weeks. I’ve given you my love, fed you and treated your wounds, what more could you want?” the fox sighed, agitated.

”The wounds you inflicted on me, you psycho! I don’t want your fucking lov-” ”DON’T SAY THAT!” He screamed and pressed the button that sent shocks through your whole body. You screamed in pain, slumping on the floor. ”You were supposed to love me! I just wanted to feel loved. He loved me.”

”I’ll never love you. I’d rather die than love someone like you.” You coughed out, still on floor.

”Shut up. SHUT UP! YOU’VE RUINED IT. YOU RUINED IT ALL.” Ren started pacing around while tugging at his hair. ”You’d rather die than love me.” He muttered under his breath. ”Well fine then.”

You flinched as he took off into the direction of the kitchen. He was back in less than a minute, now holding a knife. Your eyes widened in fear. ”What are you doing? Don’t come any closer!” You started panicking. His face was completely different, teeth bared and eyes narrowed into slits. You almost missed the look of ”adoration” he had on before.

”I’m just giving you what you want.” He charged at you and you tried to scramble back but you weren’t quick enough. The knife stabbed straight into your heart.

The last thing you heard was the slick sound of the knife pulling out of your chest.

[melonba11s]

This Is You On Drugs (Strade/MC BTD fanfic)

Strade doesn’t like drugs because they can change the way someone acts… But what if he shows them later how they acted?

Contains: Drugging, Filmed Violence, Canon typical violence, blunt force mutilation, gore gender neutral MC, Strade.

Food and drink in Strades house were safe. Strade wasn’t the type to poison people, it was too quick and didn’t give him time to see any reactions he craved.

Drugs would change or inhibit how you reacted too much. He wanted you to be yourself. A true king of encouraging self love and confidence.

So food and drink was safe. Water from the filtered jug in the fridge was safe. The cheese was safe. The cut up bits of steak were safe.

You had no reason to not eat in his house. If you tried to starve yourself he’d eventually force you to eat.

So when you woke up in the middle of the afternoon with a pounding headache, dry mouth, and chronic dizziness you just had to believe you were sick.

You had to be really sick. That was why you couldn’t remember falling asleep in the first place, or even waking up in the morning. You must have slept through the night and well into the day.

Getting up was hard. Your legs felt like cement. But you needed water. Your mouth was so dry.

Stumbling down the hallway, groaning in pain the entire way. It felt like your head was detached from your body, floating on its own towards the kitchen.

The light of everything was too much. You were forced to shield your eyes just to make it to the kitchen, squinting so much your eyes were almost closed.

Actually closing your eyes as you opened the fridge as the cold air hit your face, along with the fluorescent bulb’s shine feeling more like a needle to your skull.

Reaching in, blind, but knowing where that water was, you curled your fingers around the plastic handle.

“Don’t drink that.” A sudden voice, the fridge was closed forcefully. You looked up at Strade, he had a smile on his face… Like he was in on some joke you didn’t get. You rubbed your eyes, frowning.

“I’m thirsty.” you said, a fact made obvious by how dry your voice sounded. A chuckle, and he was pressing something cold into your hands.

You looked down. Bottled water. He never bought bottled water. That’s what the filter on the jug was for.

You didn’t ask questions, you cracked it open and began to chug it. You had been really thirsty. You felt better with every gulp of water.

Strade kept his eyes on you, his grin widening the entire time.

“Feeling better?” he asked, as you finished off the bottle. You nodded.

“Head still hurts… I think I’m sick.” an arm around your shoulders,

“Bet you need some rest then, huh? Come on, sit on the couch with me. You can relax there while I show you something…” He was pushing you towards the living room, still grinning widely.

“Strade…” your voice came out in a whine. “Can’t you show me later? I’m tired…” nothing sounded better than crawling back into bed, maybe with another bottle of water or two.

“Oh come on, Schatzi.” He sounded almost hurt. “This won’t take long!”

You sighed, giving up. Nothing would convince him otherwise when he got pushy like this.

He was admittedly gentle with you, guiding you to the couch, sitting you down against the throw pillows after making sure he fluffed them up a bit.

The TV was on, but for now the screen was black. Strade got comfortable next to you, arm around you again, leaning against you. Despite how terrifying he was, his solid warm form was a comfort you indulged in without restraint. Loving how soft and comfortable it felt to be nestled against him.

He lifted the remote, and pressed play. The screen fizzled a bit, then the picture became clear.

The basement. You jerked in his grip. One of his homemade films.

You definitely couldn’t handle this kind of thing right now.

“Strade-“ You began to protest.

“Hush. Just watch.” he shushed you, smiling at the screen.

A woman was on the ground, slumped against the pole. The camera moved towards her, accompanied by footsteps. It hit you that Strade was actually holding the camera. He usually had it up on a tripod-

“Okay Schatzi! Are you ready?”

You couldn’t recognize the voice responding at first.

“Yeeeaaaahhhh” They dragged out the word, ending it with a bit of a giggle. “You sound like… an ant.” The camera moved over.

It was you. You were wavering on the spot, eyes unfocused. A silly smile plastered on your face.

“What?” the you that was sitting on the couch began to speak. No, that couldn’t be you. You would never stand like that, talk like that, hold a giant sledgehammer like that.

The woman on the floor was beginning to beg, scream, writhe in place.

The Strade behind the camera began to laugh, backing up a bit.

��Go ahead then! Just like I told you! It’s just a fun game, like the ones you play with Ren.”

You sat in fear, disbelief, as you lifted the sledgehammer and began to approach the woman on the floor.

“No.” You said as you began to lift the hammer up. The you on film didn’t hear you, or maybe they just didn’t care.

You could only watch in horror as the hammer came down.

Ankle shattering, skin ripping apart. No. You shouldn’t be strong enough to do that much damage. As the woman on the floor let out an ear piercing scream, blood splattering across the floor, staring at her mangled foot in horror.

“Stop!” You yelled, trying to get up, to turn off the TV. Strade kept a grip on you, his spare hand was unbuckling his belt.

“Don’t be like this, Schatzi.” His voice was in your ear. “You looked so happy, it was almost worth the price of the drugs.”

Drugs. Drugs that he hated. It made you stiff with fear.

Drugs that had altared you, made you not yourself. The kind of thing he never wanted.

You could only watch as the you that was apparently hopped up on some horrid mix began to lift the hammer again.

Kneecap was next, the sound of bone splintering, skin turning into ground beef, your stupid fucking voice continuing to giggle.

“That’s… funny…” The you on camera knelt down, shoving your fingers into the freshly destroyed leg. How easily they slid into the torn tendons and pulverized muscle.

You pulled out a shard of something. The gross sound of wet suction and the woman’s breath hitching between her screams made you want to vomit.

“Uh oh…” You sounded like a complete dunce, looking at the shard of bone in your hand. “I broke it…”

You seemed to be referring to the piece of patella in your palm, staring at it. You dropped it onto the floor, now looking at the camera (or perhaps Strade?) in dissapointed.

“I wanted… Something to give you.” The woman at your feet was breathing heavily. Strade was laughing.

“It’s okay, Schatzi. You’ve given me so much already.” He was cooing, and you hated how it made your slack face light up in a grin.

The woman on the ground seemed to find her voice now.

“YOU’RE A MONSTER.” She wasn’t looking at Strade. She was looking at you.

She was right.

“A SICK FUCK.” Your smile had dropped now, using the hand that wasn’t on the hammer to cover an ear. It made your heart pound, watching this.

The you on camera shaking your head as she continued to yell insults at you. It was comforting, knowing that even while not in your right state, you didn’t want to be called those things-

“SHUT UP.” The drugs were speaking. They had to be. “YOU’RE GIVING ME A HEADACHE.”

No, the drugs were. Realize that. You were begging yourself to realize that as the hammer rose again. The woman was still yelling.

“STOP.” The both of you yelled at the same time. You were frozen in place, but they weren’t. The hammer swung down.

Wet thump, horrid cracking, teeth coming loose. A scream of pain turning into a wet gargle as blood and muscle filled her throat.

Another swing, an eyeball popping open, the inside oozing all over her face as her skull caved in. There were no more screams.

Another swing. Brain exposed, flying from the safety of the cranium, hitting the wall and floor.

You were breathing heavily as you dropped the hammer. Legs shaking, hands twitching, you were looking down at yourself in horror.

“Oh no…” The you on camera said, before looking back at Strade. “I got… really dirty.”

Your front caked in shards of bone, blood, bits of gore and more. You doubled over on the couch, retching.

Strade was laughing next to you, laughing on camera. It echoed and bounced, it was everywhere.

You were dirty. You were filthy. You were diseased.

Strade had turned off the TV as you sat there, rocking back and forth, gagging and trying not to vomit.

“You put on a good show, Schatzi!” He sounded genuine, rubbing your back.

And you hated how it made you feel just a bit better right now.

[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!”

[thedemoninmywalls]

Fallen Angel Ch. 1

(Angel!Aro x Rire AU) Aro is a guardian angel who has failed to protect the human she was supposed to be guarding. Terrified of Heaven's wrath, she makes a desperate deal with a sadistic demon prince named Rire - and he has plans for her…

Aro was not your typical angel. 

She did not have large white wings or special powers, and she lived on Earth among the humans. In the angelic hierarchy, she was considered low ranking, less holy than those who dwelled above in Heaven. 

 But if a human looked closely, they could sense an otherworldly spirit in Aro. 

Every angel has a mission, and Aro took hers very seriously. She was a guardian angel, and her job was to protect one Dr. Larry Bergen. 

Dr. Bergen was a neuroscientist. He worked at a big prestigious hospital, and he helped people with various neurological diseases. The Heavenly Authorities wanted to protect him because he was improving the human species. He was doing great things, so they assigned Aro to guard him. 

Aro was very proud of her mission. Despite their flaws, she loved humans. She loved their arts and culture and innovations. She felt like she was doing something to help humans when she protected Dr. Bergen. Though she was just a low ranking angel, Aro was happy on Earth and happy with her life. 

But one day, Aro failed. 

On that morning, Dr. Bergen was riding to work on his bicycle. He did not see the car swerve across the road. 

Aro hurried in just in time to see Dr. Bergen get hit. His frail human body went sprawling across the pavement. He was dead the moment he hit the ground. There was nothing she could do, and the feeling was burned into her mind forever. 

Even angels cannot bring people back from the dead. 

Traumatized, Aro fled the scene of death. She was too afraid to take responsibility for her actions, her lapse in judgment. Instead, she tried to hide in a small dark corner of the Earth. 

What could she do? Heaven did not tolerate failure. They would surely punish her. She had failed Dr. Bergen, his friends and family, and humanity itself. His death kept replaying in her mind, and she did not know how to stop it. 

In that dark, lonely corner, Aro did the one thing she knew how to do, the first thing that all angels are taught to do - she prayed to God. 

“Please,” she sobbed pitifully. “Please help me!” 

Aro stayed there for a long time without any food, water or sleep, praying incessantly. Finally, someone answered her prayers. 

But it wasn't God. 

A tall, handsome man approached. He looked human, but there was a distinctly divine spirit in him. He came alone, but his presence was overwhelming. 

When Aro saw him, her blood turned to ice. She had never seen a demon before. 

Every angel knew that demons were enemies. They were strong and powerful; they could rip apart angels like they were mere humans. 

But this man did not move to attack Aro. His voice was deep and smooth as butter. 

“My name is Rire,” he said. “I have come to answer your prayers.” 

“W-Why?” Aro whispered hoarsely. 

“I know what you did,” the demon replied. “I imagine the Heavenly Authorities will be looking for you.” 

Aro shuddered. He was right, and likely the human police were looking for her as well. She couldn't stand the thought of facing either of them. 

“What should I do?” she asked softly. 

Rire held out his hand to her. “Come with me,” he said. “And I will protect you.” 

If she had been thinking clearly, Aro might have thought twice about making a deal with a demon. But she was afraid, alone, and traumatized. She had failed both the angels and humans. What was left for her here? 

In the end, Aro decided it was better to leap into the unknown than face the punishment she knew was coming. 

In Heaven, Aro was told that even touching a demon could burn an angel’s skin. But when she shook Rire’s hand, nothing happened. 

Rire grinned, and the sharp whiteness of his teeth seemed blinding to Aro. 

She closed her eyes. 

—--------------------------

When Aro opened her eyes, everything changed. 

She was no longer in the dark corner. It seemed that the demon had transported her somewhere else. 

Now she found herself in a beautiful bedroom, with a tall ceiling and velvet curtains. The bed was laid out with the softest linens, and the clothes hanging in the closet were rich and elegant. 

There was more luxury in this one room than Aro had ever seen in her lifetime. Like all angels, she had been taught to live modestly; this kind of material richness was completely foreign to her. 

There were windows behind the thick velvet curtains, and Aro peered through them to figure out where she was. She was met with a vastly expansive view, looking down at a cityscape that seemed to stretch for miles. There was no sunlight; the city was lit by a dark red glow that seemed to come from beneath. The small, twisted streets were packed with strange creatures scurrying here and there, going about their day. 

Demons. 

Aro felt like she was going to throw up. This was Hell. She was actually in Hell. All her life she’d heard horror stories about Hell, about the atrocities that occur there, especially to innocent angels. 

“Making yourself at home?” 

A familiar voice interrupted Aro’s thoughts. Rire was standing by the bed. The red lighting flattered his handsome features. Slowly, Aro turned to face him. 

“This is Hell,” she whispered in horror. 

“Yes,” Rire raised an eyebrow at this obvious knowledge. “I live here.” 

“I-I can't be here,” Aro whimpered. “The demons, they'll –” 

“You're not going anywhere,” Rire took a menacing step towards her. “I said I would protect you, and I will.” 

Instinctively Aro stepped back. “Why?” 

“Hmm, how should I put this?” Rire tapped his chin condescendingly. “All demons are taught to be afraid of angels. We're natural enemies, after all. But here I see a failed angel, scared and alone, just desperate to make a deal. Only an idiot would pass up an opportunity like this.” 

“Y-You can't keep me here!” Aro cried. “You said yourself that Heaven will be looking for me!” 

“Up there, yes,” Rire agreed. “But they’ll never come down here and soil their pretty robes. You angels are just as afraid of demons as we are of you.” 

He took another step closer. 

“Besides,” he continued. “Do you really think the angels will want you back after what you did? They have no use for a failure.” 

Angrily, Aro opened her mouth to argue - but nothing came out. As far as she could tell, he was right. There was nothing for her up there. 

Rire chuckled. “You know, I’ve fucked many, many people in my time…but never an angel.” 

He unzipped his pants, revealing a cock that was as massive as he was tall. It was erect and slick with arousal. 

Aro stared. She had never seen a man's nudity before. But as he moved towards her, she suddenly knew exactly what was about to happen. 

Dropping to her knees, Aro raised her hands in supplication. 

“Please,” she begged. “Don't do this. It's wrong, it's immoral…please–” 

Rire seized a fistful of Aro's hair and forced her dry mouth around his cock. She gasped and choked as the huge thing invaded her throat, stretching her mouth and jaw to its limits. Her nose was buried in his dark pubic hair; his musk was overwhelming. 

If she were a human, and had lungs, she might have actually choked to death. But she was an angel, and she could only bounce helplessly with each thrust of his hips. She tried to hit him, or push him away, but his grip on her hair was like iron. 

Rire only released her when he reached orgasm, his thick cum shooting down her throat. As soon as he let go of her hair, Aro pulled back, panting heavily. Again Rire approached her, his cock still erect and dripping with her saliva. 

“Please, stop–!” Aro cried. 

It did not even occur to her to fight back. She fully believed that Rire was stronger than her, and she’d been trained to obey a higher power. 

Ignoring her pathetic pleading, Rire roughly shoved her onto the soft bed. One hand pinned her throat to the mattress and his other hand yanked up her robe, revealing an untouched pussy, already wet with unwanted arousal. 

The sight of it made Rire lose all self control. He rutted into her like an animal, his grip on her throat tightening with every brutal thrust. 

“Your virgin hole is so tight,” he panted. “Forget about being an angel. You're my personal fucktoy now.” 

Tears streamed down Aro's face as she vainly scratched at Rire’s arm. The pain was horrible, but even worse was the pleasure. Angels were not supposed to feel this way. Angels were supposed to be spiritual beings, unbothered by such fleeting physical pleasures. 

After this her body would always ache to be filled, to be violated. She was no better than a human now, a weak, fragile human who melted at the merest touch. 

“Oh God,” Aro sobbed. 

“I am your god now,” Rire snarled. “From now on you will pray to me! Say my name.” 

“R-Rire,” Aro moaned his name obediently. Suddenly waves of orgasmic ecstasy shot through her body, and she screamed, “Rire!!” 

A few seconds later, Rire’s seed flooded Aro's guts. He pulled out, and his thick white cum spilled over her bare thighs and the sheets beneath her. 

“Ahhh…that was very good,” Rire sighed contentedly. He released her throat and brushed some hair out of her face gently. 

Without another word, Rire crawled off the bed and began zipping up his pants. After making sure he looked presentable, he simply walked out the door, leaving Aro alone again. 

For her part, Aro could barely move. Her throat and thighs were badly bruised. Her legs and ass were sticky with cum and sweat. When she swallowed, she could still taste him. 

Worst of all, her abused pussy ached, pulsing with newfound desire. It would never feel the same way again. Her body had betrayed her, forced her to accept these evil feelings as hers. 

After a while, Aro mustered up enough energy to roll over on her side. The least she could do was get comfortable in Rire's bed. Right now all she wanted to do was sleep, sleep away the pain and the trauma and the grief.  Maybe, when she woke up, she would be back in her own home on Earth, watching over Dr. Bergen. Maybe when she woke up, all of this would just be a terrible nightmare. 

[mariami478]

DARLİNG GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM JAİL?!!!!(That's right bbg..i draw Ren again)

[apathetic-dry-rot]

Wilting Nerium- Chapter List

Chapter 1: Back to Black

Chapter 2: DEATH

Chapter 3: Sex, Drugs, Etc.

Chapter 4: Kill Bill

Chapter 5: It's Called: Freefall

Chapter 6: Possibly In Michigan

Chapter 7: Vampire Empire

Chapter 8: Hayloft II

Chapter 9: Where Is My Mind

Chapter 10: SPIT IN MY FACE!

Chapter 11: Dream Sweet In Sea Major

Chapter 12: Daylight

Chapter 13: Dark Red

Chapter 14: Why'd You Only Ever Call Me When You're High?

Chapter 15: Choke

Chapter 16: Dear Arkansas Daughter

Chapter 17: Gilded Lily

Chapter 18: Me and the Devil

Chapter 19: Bad Idea, Right?

Chapter 20: In The Woods Somewhere

Chapter 21: The Night We Met

Chapter 22: Body

Chapter 23: Oleander

Chapter 24 (Epilogue): No Children

[soup-in-my-fly]

I just finished Fervent Care of Dying Things and BOYYYYY I am NOT ok

Also inspired some domestic ren x law fluff <3

(With accompanying lyrics from Dom andra by Kent)

Fic link

[rhysiewrites]

Fatal Attraction

Summary: Lawrence's latest captive escapes his binds. As Strade hovers above him, holding Lawrence's own garden shears in an iron grip, he can't seem to decide what he wants to do with him now.

Relationship: Lawrence Oleander/Strade

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating: Mature

A/N: i just wanted to write strade as the mc on lawrence's route lmao. hope its a decent read!

Read it on Ao3, if you prefer

Strade is above him.

It’s the first thing Lawrence registers when his eyes open.

Strade is out of the chair, and he’s above him.

His hair has fallen, framing his face as he looms over Lawrence, eyes wide and unblinking as he stares down at him. Red peeks at him from beneath the open button of Strade’s shirt, an uneven line traced by Lawrence’s finger, just above his collar bone. For just a moment, Lawrence is transfixed by the sight of him: raw, wild;

beautiful.

Strade looks so beautiful.

But he’s coming back to himself as the seconds tick by. Strade is out of the chair. Strade is in his bed. He shouldn’t be out of the chair. He shouldn’t be here, so close to Lawrence; straddling his hips and looking at him. Seeing him. He was supposed to listen. Not supposed to cause any trouble. Not be a problem.

Lawrence makes a move, attempting to sit up on his elbows. What he’s going to do, he doesn’t know; he doesn’t get far. Strade’s hand is planted firmly in the center of his chest, shoving him back down with a startling strength. “Don’t-,“ Strade growls down at him, sounding more animal than man for a moment. Lawrence’s heart flutters under his palm. He wonders if Strade can feel it. “-move. Stay right where you are. Or I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Strade’s other arm shakes for a moment, and Lawrence follows it down, eyes tracing the curve of flesh, the slight jut of bone at the wrist, then lower to the palm; the fingers. White knuckles curled around what Lawrence recognizes as the handle of his own gardening shears.

Fear. It prickles, cold at the base of his neck, spilling down his back as Lawrence looks back up at Strade’s face. He’s still staring at him.

“I should kill you,” Strade says before Lawrence can get a word out. “I want to. I want to watch you bleed; hear you scream. I want to tear you apart-,” 

It’s a threat. It should scare him, and it does, in a way. But the way Strade is looking at him now didn’t feel dangerous. 

Maybe.

Lawrence really can’t be sure; can’t trust himself to think clearly about this, because it was Strade. Because Strade looked beautiful. He still did, even now.

 “-wanted to since we met.”

Since they met. 

Lawrence remembers it briefly. 

The bar; his mandatory lunch break; too much noise. A man with bright eyes and a brighter smile pushing a drink into his hands, unperturbed by the way he’d huddled himself at a table in the corner, hood pulled up, staring at strangers for too long as they’d pass. An awkward introduction. A one-sided conversation. His heartbeat speeding up. Anxiety spiking. 

Too close, too loud, too much.

Lawrence getting up from his seat abruptly to leave.

The alley.

Footsteps.

Panic.

It blurs after that. He’s confused; afraid. Only gets flashes of a manic grin, or hands coming at him in the dark. Clarity returns once he’s standing above Strade; nose bloodied, unconscious on the pavement.

“I really-,” Strade leans down; closer, too close. Lawrence is brought back to the present. He can feel the heat of Strade’s breath.  “-hate being tied up, buddy.” He’s still holding the shears. Lawrence can feel the metal edge rub up against his waist when Strade moves.

Lawrence swallows. “I-…” he feels trapped, pinned beneath Strade’s intense brown eyes, seeming to shine gold in the light of the breaking dawn. “I’m sorry,” he says. He doesn’t know what else to say. But he’s not sorry, not really. He’d do it all again, to keep Strade looking at him like this.

Strade laughs, Lawrence thinks, sounding more like a shaky exhale than anything, but he smiles at him. Lawrence didn’t think he’d seen him smile since the bar. “There you are again. You’re being so unfair. What am I supposed to do with you?”

Lawrence doesn’t speak; can’t seem to find his voice again as Strade continues. “Lawrence…” he says it like a prayer, voice low, hushed, rougher than Lawrence remembers it being. He thinks, distantly, that might’ve been his fault. Memories bubble up again. Strade’s sleeve tearing in his grip and a roll of silver duct tape. 

Too loud, too loud, too loud. 

“Lawrence,” Strade says again. “Lawrence, Lawrence… You’re so interesting…” The shears are moving again, slow and deliberate this time as they slide upward along his waist. They come to a rest on his abdomen, cold and weighty. Strade’s fingers are still on the handle. Lawrence can feel his heart beat against his ribs. “I was going to take you for myself, you know. Dig into you, make you beg, cry, scream. Bleed you dry while I watched and listened to every little sound… Really get to know you, Lawrence,” he murmurs, eyes finally leaving his face. He looks down to his empty hand, palm still pressed flat against Lawrence’s chest. His fingers curl slowly, short nails biting at skin as they’re slowly dragged down, leaving white lines that quickly bloom red in their wake. “Cute, shy Lawrence.…” Strade looks back up to him again, “But you’re not who I thought, are you? Not at all.”

Strade’s words strike him, though it doesn’t feel like an accusation. The rage doesn’t come bubbling up to the surface like it might have otherwise. Strade doesn’t sound afraid, or disgusted. He isn’t staring at Lawrence like he’s a monster- a thing hiding away in the dark. He sounds entranced; fascinated, as if he’s never seen anything quite like him. Strade’s eyes bore into him still; Lawrence fidgets under the scrutiny, turning his face away in an attempt to alleviate the uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling of being seen. He’s still hyper-aware of the metal blades resting against his stomach, that Strade could kill him right now. That he’d said he wanted to.

But he didn’t. 

Why was he still alive?

Lawrence doesn’t have an answer for that. Strade’s still staring at him, he can feel it. Maybe he doesn’t have an answer either. Finally, he swallows the lump in his throat, and he speaks.

“You lied.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Strade blink at him, but he says nothing. Lawrence continues.

“You-… You’re not who you said you were,” Lawrence says. He looks back to Strade, who’s still watching intently, “You tried to hurt me. In the alley.”

Strade tips his head to one side, chestnut curls falling away from his face as he looks over Lawrence. “I did,” he replies. The side of his mouth twitches, slowly curving upward into a half-smile, “And you took me home. Why did you do that?”

Why? Lawrence furrows his brow. “I-… couldn’t just leave you there.”

“No? Why not?” Strade asks, making Lawrence’s gut twist. “A bad, bad man comes at you in a dark alley, tries to hurt you, but you knock him out. Most people would run away, call the police, maybe. But not you. No, no, cute, shy Lawrence… You brought the bad man home with you.” Strade’s eyes seem to shine as he continues, delighted by something that Lawrence can’t seem to understand.

“I-…”

He’s confused. He doesn’t like what Strade is saying; doesn’t want to think about what it might mean. Lawrence squirms minutely beneath him, overwhelmed with an urge to hide- or something worse, -but the cold steel of his garden shears keep him from moving too much.

“But, in a way, I think I’m glad you did,” Strade continues, almost to himself. Lawrence can’t conceal the look of shock that surely crosses his face when he does. He laughs again; low, dark, before leaning downward, that much closer to Lawrence’s face, “Well, if you hadn’t, I don’t think I would’ve ever known about this side of you...” Strade’s free hand moves, Lawrence can feel it, slipping downward along his chest, finding it’s way to Lawrence’s waist. “Just another pretty boy, all tied up on my basement floor. What a waste that would’ve been…” Strade leans even closer, so close Lawrence can’t see him anymore, he can only feel him; rough stubble brushing against his cheek, warm breath rushing past his ear. Lawrence can feel his face flushing in spite of himself. “I don’t want to give you up just yet, Lawrence…”

The sudden proximity, it’s almost too much. This feeling of another person above him, the heat, the weight, the movement, it leaves nothing to doubt. Strade is completely, unmistakably alive, and Lawrence doesn’t know how he should react. He feels teeth graze his jaw, and his arm comes up, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth to muffle the startled sound that threatens to escape in that moment. So many conflicting emotions are rushing through Lawrence’s head, now, he almost feels dizzy. Strade is a dangerous man. A dangerous man who wanted to hurt him, wanted to lock him away in a basement and torture him until his body finally gave out, like all organic things will in the end. 

Lawrence knew that. Knows that, still.

Strade still has gardening shears pressed up against his torso, a constant threat to keep Lawrence still; keep him compliant. Lawrence might’ve been angry, might’ve fought back, even, if it had been anyone else.

But it wasn’t. 

It was Strade.

And Strade is still so beautiful. 

Strade heaves a deep, self-satisfied sigh into his ear, and Lawrence fidgets again, fingers digging into the sheets below him in an attempt to keep still. He’s afraid- terrified of this, of what might happen next, even more than dying, but he tries anyway, because he likes Strade. He likes him so much, Lawrence doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s grown attached, like the suffocating vines of cuscuta gronovii invading delicate roots. He wonders, dazed, if Strade even realizes what he’s done to him.

The hand on Lawrence's waist slips lower, finding exposed hipbone just above loose sweatpants. Strade squeezes, and Lawrence jolts in place. He can feel the smile against his neck. Strade finally leans back, and Lawrence can see his face again, a deep flush had blossomed over his skin. “What do you say-..." The amber of Strade's eyes is reduced to a sliver behind dark pupils as he looks over Lawrence, tongue dragging across teeth, like the wolf who'd caught the rabbit.

 "-we get to know each other better, liebchen?”

[angel-sweets666]

How did strade catch you?

strade x reader

warnings: kidnapping, drugging ect yk strade stuff

Strade first saw you when you moved into the house next door. From the moment you arrived, you exuded a warmth and friendliness that caught his attention. On the day you moved in, you went out of your way to introduce yourself to him, chatting easily and flashing a bright smile. Strade couldn’t help but be captivated by your charm and beauty.

As the days passed, his thoughts were increasingly consumed by you. He found himself watching you more closely, admiring your every move. You were just so pretty, almost perfect in his eyes. Yet, a darker thought gnawed at the edges of his mind. Wouldn't you be even prettier with some blood? The idea thrilled him in a twisted way, making his desire to catch you grow even stronger. You were becoming an obsession, and he was determined to have you, no matter the cost.

One day, while you were taking out the trash, you noticed the man watching you from the window. You smiled and waved up at him, and he waved back, his usual toothy grin flashing. Strade opened the window and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling lazily around his head.

"Hey buddy! Whatcha doing?" he called out.

"Taking out my trash!" you replied, walking closer to his window so you could hear him more clearly.

"Oh, that's fun. Garbage man should be here tomorrow!" he said with his casual German accent, which always seemed to add an extra layer of charm to his words.

Strade leaned against the windowsill, his eyes fixed on you. "Say, wanna go for a drink tomorrow night?"

His invitation took you by surprise, but his charming demeanor and that captivating accent made it hard to refuse. You considered his offer for a moment, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. "Sure, that sounds like fun," you replied with a smile.

"Great," he said, his grin widening. "I'll pick you up around eight."

As you walked back to your house, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. Strade was always such a charmer, and there was something intriguing about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. Tomorrow night promised to be interesting, and you found yourself looking forward to getting to know your mysterious neighbor a little better.

8 o’clock that Saturday rolled around, you got into a casual outfit that could work for a bar or a fancy place. A knock on the door scams and raced down “hey strade” you smiled and he held the door open for you “hey buddy!” He grinned “I know a bar, I’ll take you there” he informed you

Eight o'clock that Saturday finally rolled around. You stood in front of your mirror, carefully selecting a casual outfit that could work for both a laid-back bar and a more upscale place, just in case. After a few moments of indecision, you settled on a stylish yet comfortable ensemble that made you feel confident.

A knock on the door broke the silence, and you felt a rush of excitement as you raced downstairs. You opened the door to find Strade standing there, his usual toothy grin in place.

"Hey, Strade," you greeted him with a smile.

"Hey, buddy!" he replied warmly, holding the door open for you with a slight bow. His charm was irresistible, and you found yourself grinning back.

"I know a great bar nearby," he informed you, his German accent adding an extra layer of allure to his words. "I'll take you there."

As you walked to his car, you noticed how different he looked tonight—more relaxed, yet there was a gleam in his eyes that hinted at hidden depths. The drive to the bar was filled with easy conversation. Strade had a way of making you feel comfortable, like you had known each other for years.

The bar he took you to was cozy, with dim lighting and a welcoming atmosphere. The chatter of patrons and the soft hum of music created a perfect backdrop for the evening. Strade led you to a corner booth, where you both settled in. He ordered drinks for both of you, his confidence evident in the way he spoke to the bartender.

"So, tell me more about yourself," Strade said, leaning in slightly, his eyes locked onto yours.

You shared stories about your move, your job, and your hobbies. Strade listened intently, occasionally interjecting with witty remarks that made you laugh. He shared bits about his own life, his accent making even the mundane details sound fascinating.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed, and the conversation deepened. Strade had a way of making you feel special, like you were the only person in the room. His gaze was intense, yet there was a warmth to it that drew you in.

"Do you come here often?" you asked, curious about this side of him.

"Not as often as I'd like," he admitted. "But they have great beers and cheap booze so.. thought it work” he grinned “say! Want a drink?” He asked, you trusted him enough with you drink. Big mistake.

Soon enough, Strade was carrying your limp body in his arms, skillfully pretending that you had simply gotten sick from drinking too much. His face was a mask of concern as he navigated through the bar's exit, eliciting sympathetic glances from the few patrons who noticed. Gently, he placed you in the passenger seat of his car, buckling you in as if he were merely a friend ensuring your safety.

Strade stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "That was way too easy… You're easy to kidnap, Schatz," he chuckled softly, the sinister undertone of his words lost in the empty parking lot. His grin widened as he settled into the driver's seat, the adrenaline of his actions making his heart race.

As he drove through the quiet streets, Strade glanced over at you from time to time, his mind racing with the plans he had for you. The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across your face, highlighting the eerie calmness that had settled over you. In his mind, you were already his, a canvas for the twisted desires that he could barely contain.

The drive felt surreal, the usual humdrum of the night punctuated by the knowledge of what was to come. When he finally pulled up to his house, he quickly exited the car and circled around to your side. With practiced ease, he scooped you up again, your body limp and compliant in his arms.

He navigated through his house, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. Strade moved with purpose, each step taking him closer to the basement door. He kicked it open with a quiet grunt, the creak of the door adding to the sinister atmosphere. The basement stairs loomed ahead, descending into darkness.

Carefully, he carried you down the stairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the confined space. The basement was cold and damp, a stark contrast to the warm, inviting bar where the evening had begun. Strade flicked on a light, the harsh glow illuminating a room that was far from welcoming.

He laid you down on the cold concrete floor, securing your wrists behind the metal pole that sat in the middle of the basement He took a step back, admiring the sight of you bound and helpless, completely at his mercy. Strade grinned a devilish grin “all mine now~ don’t worry shatz…I’ll keep you safe…”

[1schadenfreude1]

Boyfriend to Death x sick reader

Yah I know there's a million of these posts, I'm just adding my own ideas to the mix

Also when I say sick I don't mean a common cold, I mean things like the flu, period pain, stomach virus, high fever, etc.

Without further ado, let's get to it!

Strade

At first he laughs at you and pretends that you're lying about being sick

When it becomes obvious how sick you are, he finally gets medicine for you

Only to hold it over your head and make you do degrading things in exchange for the medicine

If you're contagious, he doesn't want to catch it, so he leaves you alone a little more often until you get better

Sano

He's SO excited. He treats you much more delicately than usual

You become the test subject for all sorts of experimental drugs and medications, some of which make you feel better and some that make you feel worse

You start to feel very stiff from being on the operating table for hours on end with all kinds of machines hooked up to you

Sano aggressively sanitizes every surface in his lab so he doesn't get sick himself

Rire

He LOVES your pain and suffering

Makes nasty comments about how weak and fragile humans are

Eventually brings you a strange magical medicine

It helps you feel better, but it also turns your blood into acid

Ren

P A N I C

Human illness is very different from beastkin illness so he has to do a lot of research to get the right medicine

Absolutely smothers you in affection

Barely lets you get out of bed or feed yourself

Cain

Genuinely doesn't believe you, thinks you're lying to get out of punishment

After realizing how sick you are, he just wants to watch the symptoms slowly eat away at your health

Eventually he relents and agrees to get you medicine

You have to tell him exactly what kind though be cause he really doesn't know lol

Vincent

"Suck it up, kiddo"

He thinks you're cute when you're miserable

Lots of hugs and cuddles

Eventually gets you medicine without trouble

Lawrence

Gives you strange herbal remedies that he's made himself

Some of them help you feel better. Some of them make you hallucinate and leave you questioning what is real

He loves when you're weak and dependant on him for everything

He's more sweet and affectionate than usual

Feel free to send asks for writing and headcanon requests!!

[mommysmilk]

Strawberry

🍓Fox x Reader🍓

(warning for mention of throwing up and general wound and scar talk yall know the drill)

”Wash these for me, darling. Don’t get your bandages wet.” He hands you a container of strawberries, your favorite kind. They’re red throughout and their sweet aroma is filling the kitchen. You’re tempted to reach out and pop one of the berries in your mouth, but his voice interrupts your thoughts. ”We don’t have all day, pet. You’re wasting water.”

You quickly apologize and start rinsing the strawberries under the running water, being careful to avoid the fresh bandages. Some blood is already seeping through the gauze, the cuts too deep to fully stop the bleeding. You’ve learned to love the scars he leaves on your body, even requesting for him to not stitch all of them up.

”I didn’t go too hard on you today right? You lost a lot of blood and still seem a bit out of it, sweetie.”

You grin down at him, finding his concern cute but unneccessary. ”You’ve done worse, Foxie~. Remember the time you made me eat your chicken hearts? I honestly thought you were going to kill me.”

He grimaces in disgust, ”Please don’t remind me, I can still smell the spot you threw up on.”

”I’m glad you started to give me strawberries for our movie nights after that.” You laugh while hopping down from the kitchen counter. You get a little dizzy from the sudden movement and have to lean on the countertop for support. He’s at your side immediately, taking the container of strawberries from your hand and helping you to the living room. You sigh in relief as you crash down on the couch. As much as you love your streams together, they’re still very taxing on your body.

After choosing a cd titled ”Guillotine” he inserts it into the player. It is one of your favorite streams of his. He sits down next to you, his tail curling around you while he starts the "movie". His hand caresses the heart shaped scar on your back and you snuggle closer to him when he starts feeding you the strawberries.