#btd2 x reader

[kanasbinwriting]

I saw your requests are open, I was wondering if you could do Lawrence x reader with a reader who has depression and dissociates/mentally withdraws when stressed? I feel like he would find that appealing.

LAWRENCE X DEPRESSED READER

Thank you so much for your request!!! I'm so sorry that you had to wait so long and I hope I did an okay job

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"How. . . beautiful"

You sat on the edge of his bed and you could feel him stare at you from across the room. The air in the room felt frigid on your skin. The room would've been covered in darkness if it weren't for the moon and the streetlights outside.

Every breath felt heavy, feeling too fatigued to do anything but stare at nothing in particular. You felt as if something is holding back your tears, as though a weight is pressing on your chest, choking you, allowing nothing out but a breath.

Lawrence felt his cheeks flush as he continued to watch you. He couldn't get enough of moments like these. Just watching you, your more "authentic" self.

Even when he approached you, you kept your attention on something that is not him. Even when he kneeled before you to take a closer look at your face, you never looked at him; your attention was solely on something else. He beamed up at you, a mix of tenderness and allure glowing in his eyes as he held his hand to his chest, slightly gripping his shirt as his breathing got heavier.

"Truly. . . immaculate"

Lawrence whispered praises that went right through you as if you couldn't hear him. Touching you felt almost sacred, as if he had no right to intrude upon the depths of your thoughts. His hand felt gentle on your cheek, but you gave no reaction whatsoever. He traced the scars he gave you on your arm just a few minutes ago letting out a shaky breath as he did.The knife he had used layd discarded on the floor, long forgotten. Lawrence smeared the blood along your arm until it was almost completely covered. He lowered his hand to his lips, tasting your blood as he let out a soft groan. His smile grew softer as he continued to absorb you. He couldn't help but wish for this moment to never end, however, he knew that it would soon fade. But that didn't matter; he could always bring you back into this state whenever he pleased. He never would've thought that someone alive could give him such pleasure as this. He leaned closer to your face, making you feel his breath on your face. His scent lingered around you, wrapping you in a haze that felt both familiar and distant.Yet, even with the warmth of his presence so close, your gaze remained hollow, fixed on something far beyond the room. His eyelids fell heavy as he took a deep breath, taking in your scent.

"You are. . . enticing"

He whispered against your ear as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you closely as he took in your scent once more. You felt a shiver run down your spine when he nuzzled against your shoulder with a hazy smile.

It felt as if your body was an empty shell with no soul and he couldn't get enough of it.

[puppycassie]

Headcanons for Jacob Alden with a breeding kink? 🥴🥴

♡ absolutely !!

! 18+ , nsfw content, lurking for love is an 18+ game <3 ! 🩷🍰

some of my headcanons for jacob with a breeding kink ♡

♡ he's a yandere, of course the idea of filling you with his seed is more than enticing to him

♡ he definitely tracks your cycle so that he knows when you're ovulating

♡ "not gonna chase after anyone else with my baby inside of ya, darlin'"

♡ uses his fingers to push his cum deeper inside of you

♡ LOVES mating press

♡ likes to pull out to watch his cum drip out of you before fucking it back in

♡ "you're gonna look so perfect when you swell up for me"

♡ makes you ask for it "what is it, sweetheart? want me to make you a mommy/daddy?"

♡ just loves the idea of claiming you, marking your insides with his loads

♡ makes you go multiple rounds, cumming inside of you again and again until you physically can't take it. telling you "shh shh darlin', gotta make sure I knock you up"

♡ praises your features, telling you he hopes that the babies he's gonna make you carry inherit them

♡ can't wait to take pictures of your pregnant body

♡ once he has said pictures, he frequently masturbates to them, even when you're not pregnant anymore

♡ the idea of his beloved's breasts swelling with milk drives him crazy, covers your tits with kisses as he reminds you of what's going to happen to them

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thank you for the request, lovely anon ♡

[denimizu]

His cold ass hands won't stop him from being my babygirl 🏃‍♂️

[vetitiscripta]

Can you do sfw and nsfw headcanons for btd 2 ren? I love him so much he’s my underrated short king🦊

btd2 ren my beloved. ask and you shall receive anon (i might add more to this later but this is what i have for now)

sfw

this man is the clingiest motherfucker ever. in the beginning, you can't walk from room to room without ren being on your heels. it was a new experience for him and he wanted to know all about you! now, though, his clinginess comes in the form of holding you too tightly when laying with you, tracing his name onto your skin with his finger, and telling you how much he loves you about 20 times a day. it's suffocating to be honest, but you would rather ren be clingy than be mad

speaking of mad, he doesn't get mad at you often. you've learned well enough in your time with him that making him mad was not a fun thing to do. ren may be small but he knows how to fight or to at least knock you down enough to remind you who’s really in charge. but there's not really a need for that nowadays since you are so well behaved! he makes comments all the time of you two being the ideal relationship (you find yourself agreeing with him sometimes. maybe he's not so bad after all)

loves taking baths with you. it's probably the thing he looks forward to the most. there's just something so intimate about it that he loves so much. maybe it's the scented soaps and shampoos going to his head or the heat of the water. maybe its the way you fit so nicely against him and he gets to hold you close (there's not enough room, don't look at him like that!). sometimes he can convince you to let him wash your hair and the way you look at him as he's running his fingers through your hair is enough to make him die from happiness

50/50 on being the big spoon or little spoon. there are days where he wants nothing more than to hold you, face buried in your neck as his tail lays over you like a blanket. but there are also days where he wants to be held himself. those tend to be the days where everything floods back to him, the memories of when he was in your shoes. sometimes he just needs a reminder that he's okay now, that he's better now ("better")

he likes to win your affection with little things here and there. small things he picks up for you while out, letting you choose what anime to watch that night, but his go to is to cook for you. we can't deny that ren is an amazing cook and he knows it. you cook as well, but ren tends to cook most nights. he likes cooking and he loves it when you help him. but if he's trying to woo you (or to maybe erase some anger you feel towards him) he'll whip up your favorite meal and maybe even light a few candles

JEALOUS OF LITERALLY ANYTHING! showing more attention to the plant he got you last week? it mysteriously dies a few days later (he poured glass cleaner into its pot). mentioned liking a specific actor/actress from a show? the tv has parental locks the next day to restrict that show. all your attention belongs to him and should be on him! nothing else! (sometimes you find it cute how jealous he gets and will go out of your way to make him jealous, but don't tell him that)

he's still trying to find his place in this entire thing. strade's gone now, but ren can't deny that he feels like he's missing something. like there's a gaping hole in his chest that's longing to be filled. you filled that hole, but you don’t fit it perfectly, there are still gaps here and there. because of this, he's not afraid to experiment on you. you wake up in the basement more than you would like, ren looming over you with a smile on his face but an almost empty look in his eyes. he's thinking, calculating what he'll do. the sessions always end with tears streaming down your face and ren understanding a little better where he fits in

nsfw (under the cut)

horny 24/7. cannot keep his hands to himself. you'll be watching tv together and then ren's hand is on your thigh- ok normal enough. and then it starts moving slowly upwards and your breath hitches when his hand finds the waistband of your pants. he teases you first, messing with the band and drawstrings, nails grazing the skin just below the band. he's not even looking at you, or at least you don't notice the sneaky glances he throws your way before turning back to the tv. but that doesn't last long as he can't take it anymore himself and throws himself at you right there on the couch

ren's big on eye contact. he wants you to watch him as he goes down on you. if you look away or close your eyes, his nails dig into your thighs hard enough for little beads of red to form. your attention belongs on him at all times, especially when sharing an intimate act. he expects you to keep eye contact when you go down on him as well. he doesn't care if his cock is in your throat and you're trying not to gag. he'll pull your hair hard enough for tears to form in your eyes

likes to roleplay every so often. his favorites are anime specific ones and maid/master. he loves it when you dress up for him, especially if it's in these big, frilly dresses or skirts (doesn't matter your gender, he loves to see it). he likes having you pretend to do something, only for him to come up behind you, sneak his hands under your skirts and mess with you. likes taking your attention away from your task and putting it on him

ren hates having to punish you but he loves the act of it. when he punishes you, he gets to do whatever he wants! punishments tend to be in the basement and he tends to get just a little heated every so often with them. your tear streaked face just does something to him and most of the time punishments end with his cock either in your mouth or with him fucking you

doesn't shut up while having sex. if he's not whimpering then he's moaning in your ear. if he's not moaning then he's talking to you, telling you how good you are, how great you feel. if he's not talking than he's whimpering

[avintmich]

Извините пожалуйста, я знаю что быстро переключаюсь с фандома на фандом. Но я честно люблю Джейкоба, поэтому надеюсь что вы поймёте <3

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excuse me, I know I quickly switch from fandom to fandom. But I honestly love Jacob, so I hope you understand <3

I will never draw Jacob in his usual red plaid shirt. Maybe....

[shalotttower]

To Make a Home Out of Bones

Title: To Make a Home Out of Bones

Fandom: BTD2 (Boyfriend to Death 2)

Characters: Ren Hana x Reader (female)

Summary: You were free. Free for real, and you couldn't believe that, staring at the open door. And then, by some twisted scenario, decided to keep him. It's tragic, really.

Word count: 2300+

Notes: yandere!Ren Hana, captivity (past Reader and finally in present not Reader :D) Reader is sensible though and there's nothing crazy going on on her part apart from the captivity scenario, mostly tired vibes/attempts to process what happened, unhealthy coping mechanisms, past torture, past manipulation, possessiveness, past dubious consent, past non-con, Reader doesn't know about Strade.

You don't talk. You never talk nowadays and it feels almost liberating, not having to converse. Ren doesn't look as intimidating as he used to. Maybe it's because of the collar, or maybe it's because he doesn't wear that damned jacket anymore, the one which seems to change his whole being into something unhinged and cheerfully vicious whenever he puts it on.

Is this what he felt, watching you tied to a pole?

No, hardly.

There was a very tangible sense of power in your captivity.

You, however, don't feel powerful at all.

You feel like an old tree: splinters, rotten wood, and bark waiting for the storm to come and snap the trunk in the middle.

Freedom is strangely anticlimactic.

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You don't know how long you've been here, stopped checking a wile ago because it didn't matter ─ to be dragged back from the basement on Wednesday or on Saturday. Days became a sequence of events, not dates, once you realized Ren planned to keep you indefinitely.

Have breakfast, tell him it was good. Do the laundry. Watch TV, let Ren cuddle up to you, ignore the presence of another in the same room. Smile every time he says something nice and expects to hear it back. Let your eyes glaze over during sex, try to remember what it felt like to have someone touch you without making you bleed. Wake up to a sleepy fox curled up on top of you. When Ren dreams his ears twitch.

It takes approximately five minutes for him to settle for sleep, tangled limbs and pointy nose buried in the crook of your neck, and he's surprisingly light for a grown man. With how tough Ren seems (or wants to), there's some sort of innate clinginess about him that contrasts so much with the image in your head: smiling through bloodied teeth while nailing your leg. At first you thought being nice was a way out of this, but kindness is a double-edged sword here: soon you realized how utterly you misjudged him ─ and how truly screwed you were.

Because Ren, while cooking you tasty meals for "being good" and letting you watch TV, likes kisses and hand-holding, and cute things. But Ren also likes the way you sob no less, and that's where the miscalculation happened. Being nice only guaranteed with some unsteady sense of security that he wouldn't kill you yet. That was all. He's sweet, snuggly, affectionate until he isn't, and no amount of good behavior or praise will stop him from breaking your fingers if he feels like it.

Your routine had been simple for months. Easy. Unbearable.

And now all the world which was limited to one single house for god knows how long expands again, but you don't really feel it, even after reaching the small front gate.

You could leave him there, you think. In the basement, and no one would ever know. Lose the key, never come back, just-

Not go back. And all of this will be behind you. You'll never have to see him again, never have to smile for him, never have to hear that shaky sound he makes when he cums, or witness his face turn from carefree to confused, and then to understanding, then to annoyed.

A death like this seems fitting for him. Cold concrete and silence; starvation is an awful, terrifying way to go. You noticed that Ren doesn't really like to be alone, and there's almost poetic justice in leaving him in the basement to slowly rot away.

Your fingers curl around the iron handle and with something akin to astonishment let go of it, then fall limply to your side. You're free, yet you stay rooted to the spot, because frankly speaking where does one go from here? Your rent must be long overdue, and your face is probably everywhere, plastered on missing person posters.

'Hey guys, I'm not missing anymore', you imagine saying to your co-workers, 'sorry for disappearing, I guess. Do you still need that Excel sheet done?'

Your employment contract had probably been terminated. The bank account should be fine, Ren took you right before the paycheck, and there's mom's house to crash at until everything goes back to normal, but that surely means cops getting involved, and lawyers, and media. Just the thought is exhausting.

'How did Mr Hana treat you? Were you intimate? Yes or no? Please, tell us more, miss. How do you feel? What about Mr Oleander, did you know him?'

The wind picks up, blowing leaves and ruffling your hair.

Ren will go to jail. Obviously — kidnapping and killing people equals prison time. The problem is that it doesn't bring you any kind of satisfaction. You don't want Ren here, but you also don't want him peacefully living his sentence while you pick up the pieces of your old life. There's no closure in that, but again...can there be any?

You sit down on the porch; cold wooden boards creak under your weight. Ren has a nice little suburban house.

What now? You have no fucking idea, just vague notions of an unclear future, and nothing substantial.

What now indeed.

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He fed you regularly, that's true; you stand at the basement door and watch him eat.

Ren allowed you free roaming within the house premises, an access to TV, books, hygiene products. Reading manga together felt almost domestic, yet...you keep him there. In the basement.

It's strange, seeing him like this, but he doesn't look surprised at the new turn of events, he looks almost resigned. A mirror of yourself in a sense, you think with a finger hovering over the button. Ren's ears are flattened, tail tucked between his legs, a submissive, harmless thing. You could let him out, allow him roam the house freely just the way he did. But you don't.

It sounds straight off foolish, and what's more important ─ scary. There're so many possibilities. That the remote won't work, that you'll be too slow to react, that he'll sneak into your room at night. Ren can be very quiet when he wants to. So you keep him there, and avoid him like plague unless necessary — feeding duty twice per day plus bathroom visits.

No chatter, minimal contact overall, but Ren starts talking anyways.

"You look tired," he says cautiously in between the bites.

He does it a lot, tries to gauge where you two stand every day or what's on your mind, and you suspect it's the result of past experiences, something that's hard to unlearn. Something connected with that body in the freezer. Upon finding it you initially assumed (not without a reason) that the corpse was his doing, but when Ren undressed before you for the first time, realized that it might not be entirely true.

The cuts, the burns, the marks and deep, jagged lines formed a familiar pattern. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into giving him those.

"I could make coffee. Or tea."

And that's another thing. He doesn't fight you, or attempt to lash out. Instead he makes those little offers here and there whenever you come down the stairs — dinner, help cleaning the dishes, washing clothes. He has been compliant and eager to please to the point of it being almost unnerving.

You don't reply, and that seems to bother him, judging by his expression. Understandable: silence is normally a bad omen, especially in situations such as this one.

"Are you going to-" he starts again, but you cut him off.

"Push the tray over."

Ren's ears twitch at the command and you briefly wonder if he expected something different to happen. The tray makes a metallic screech over the concrete floor, stopping right in front of your feet.

"Thank you," he says.

'Thank you for breakfast, thank you for lunch, thank you for dessert.' 'Thank you for the nail gun, thank you for holding my hand while I screamed, thank you for fucking me after.' You hate the words now, the way they used to roll off your tongue (thank you, Ren, thank you), because they never meant gratitude at all and felt bitter, like a moldy fruit.

Ren's eyes are trained on your face. There it is again: the strange uneasiness which settles in your chest whenever he stares with focus sharp enough to burn holes through flesh itself. His gaze travels lower to your arms exposed by rolled up hoodie sleeves. You had no clothes here except for cutsey underwear and pajamas which Ren insisted you wear, but those are long thrown away somewhere in the trash, so the only things available are his. There's also...other stuff you found in the locked bedroom on the second floor: cargo pants, combat boots, tank tops, all neatly folded. Far too big for you both.

"Is it mine?" Ren asks and leans forward.

"Is there a problem?" you ask back, then regret it.

Questions mean opening a door to unwanted dialogue. His cheeks turn a little pink.

"No. It looks good on you."

Your stomach churns in discomfort at the compliment and the carefully concealed delight Ren won't voice out loud, but drops indirectly from time to time. Not only this, but the familiarity, the implied "you're used to wearing my things by now" which, in essence, is true. It's either that or walking around naked. Ren must notice your reaction, because he quickly averts his eyes to the floor. Silence settles over the basement like a thick, heavy blanket of snow.

Stop feeding me with submissive bullshit, you want to say. I know what you'd do if not for the collar, I've seen it from the first row. Stop pretending to be harmless when we both know you aren't.

Ren fiddles with the hem of his shirt. The change is so drastic. He was a little scary at first when you met, then downright terrifying, and now...now he's just a whole another person.

You pick up the tray without a word and leave. Ren's ears droop once he realizes the conversation for today ended before it even started. But there will be tomorrow. And the next one after, and the next one, and the next one. He'll keep trying to talk, and you'll keep ignoring him until he finally stops.

You don't know what to do with him. You don't know what to do with yourself either.

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There's no distance wide or far enough to allow you proper sleep. You toss and turn under the covers despite exhaustion pulling at your eyelids and eventually settle for a late night movie or two. Ren's DVD collection is...well, to put it bluntly, weird for someone like him. Cheesy and romantic movies take around thirty percent of his library, while the remaining seventy is filled with horror flicks and anime. You go through the titles: Sailor Moon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Tokyo Mew Mew. Some of those you watched together, curled up on the sofa, others Ren had recommended enthusiastically whenever he caught your glances.

'It's really good! I think you'd like it.'

'This is my favorite.'

He remembered the details about each series, all the names, plot twists. A die-hard fan to the point you wondered why didn't he try cosplaying himself instead of dressing you up. He'd pass as some sort of a fox/cat character easily. Maybe he did cosplay before, who knows? It wouldn't surprise you.

The clock ticks 2 AM. Your mind goes back to the basement door and what lays behind it.

Ren knows that you sleep terribly. You know he does too ─ that's one more trait you two share except for the scars.

You click on the first episode of "Arcane Moon Whispers". The opening plays through the old speakers — happy, cheerful music; you wonder if he can hear it downstairs. The basement is soundproofed, but Ren has sharp hearing. It became clear early on, in the way his ears would twitch towards the noise of your footsteps when you still wore the collar.

The plot unfolds in front of your eyes: a magical team fighting evil with the power of friendship, love, and hope.

'They have an entire arc dedicated to time travel,' Ren explained while showing you the box sets, 'it gets a bit confusing halfway through but it's fun!'

It's been three weeks now. Three weeks since your freedom began and yet Ren lingers in your head as strongly as ever, like a ghost haunting your dreams and waking hours alike. It's frustrating to say the least: having him locked away yet seeing him everywhere — in the kitchen cabinets full of sweets he likes, in the bookshelf full of manga he read out loud sometimes until you couldn't bear it anymore and had to tune his voice out, and in the drawer you pull open every morning.

Ren is like a stain.

It makes you sick, actually. It makes your chest ache with something that feels dangerously close to guilt but can't be it. You're not guilty for what you've done, keeping him there is reasonable, understandable, and Ren...he deserves everything after what he put you through first.

You tried so hard to be nice to him.

You were nice.

But nice isn't enough when someone wants you hurt. Isn't enough to stop a knife. Nice is a useless commodity.

A few more episodes later you're still wide awake.

[gurokiitty]

hii could I get somnophilia with lawrence, maybe some stockholm syndrome too?

a/n: ooo sure!! i luv writing somno :3c

MYCELIAL

{ lawrence oleander x f! reader }

word count: 1.0k

warnings/tags: NSFW, noncon, somnophilia, stockholm syndrome, somewhat obsessive reader, touching, kissing, grinding, brief mention of necrophilia, violence, choking, ambiguous end.

There was something magnetic about the daylight—something that transformed the ordinary into the extraordinary, casting a golden hue over the mundane. It was during these hours that Lawrence found respite, his nocturnal nature demanding slumber while the sun soared high in the sky. His apartment, bathed in warm light filtering through the windows, seemed a world away from the darkness that usually enveloped him. And it was during these stolen moments that you found yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the pull of your twisted fascination. With his guard down and vulnerability laid bare, he became yours to touch and explore.

As he slept, the rise and fall of his chest had a slow, hypnotic rhythm. His face was serene, softened from the sharpness that defined his waking hours. You watched him, heart pounding, a mixture of fear and longing swirling within you. The morning light caressed his features, turning them into something softer, almost gentle. The blanket laid just below his ribs, revealing his bare chest, where the sun painted shadows across his skin. And his long, golden hair fanned out across the pillow, framing his face in a halo of gold. He was a beautiful, ethereal being, lying there and vulnerable—you couldn't help but reach out.

You started with his hair, running your fingers through the soft strands, marvelling at how different he seemed when he was asleep. The detachment and unpredictability melted away, leaving behind a man who was sensitive, reactive, and utterly receptive to your touch. It was intoxicating.

You traced the lines of his face, your touch feather-light, afraid to wake him but unable to stop yourself. His skin was lukewarm, the stubble on his jaw rough against your fingertips. You moved down to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. The sensation sent a thrill through you, a reminder that, despite everything, he was still human—tender and unknowing. Even in this state, you craved his touch, his attention; just as much as you feared the consequences.

Pressing your lips against his neck, you kissed him softly, his sweat lingering on your tongue. His scent, earthy and sickly sweet, grounded you; tethered you to this strange, dark reality that you had come to accept—even crave. You were like mould, thriving in the shadows of his world, clinging to him, and feeding off the dark corners of his existence.

Lawrence stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping him. You froze, your heart hammering, but he did not wake. Emboldened, your hand wandered beneath the blanket, trailing down his torso, fingers ghosting over the taut muscles. He was so responsive in sleep, so different from the aloof man who held you captive. His gentle breaths sent heat pooling in your core.

You slid closer, your body moulding to his contours. His warmth seeped into you like a silent invitation, enticing you to nestle along his side. Carefully, you pried the thin blanket from him, exposing the smooth expanse of his skin and the subtle rise and fall of his chest. You then draped a leg over his, your thigh brushing against his hip. Slowly, you straddled him, positioning yourself above his crotch, your heart pounding with a dangerous thrill.

As you settled your weight onto him, your breath caught in your throat at the sensation of his bulge against the thin fabric of your underwear. You began to move, your hips undulating in slow, deliberate circles, feeling the heat of him beneath you. His breath hitched, blending reality with whatever dreams he was lost in. His pelvis then bucked softly, a subconscious response to the friction.

A flush spread across your skin as you bit your lip, stifling a moan. The sensation was almost overwhelming as you ground harder against him, your underwear damp with arousal. Your palms found his chest, resting gently on his muscles for support. The softness of his skin, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and the intimacy of the moment created a heady mix that left you dizzy with desire. You leaned forward, your breaths mingling with his own, as if this closeness breathed life into you.

Lawrence's face twisted in pleasure and confusion, his brows furrowing as his subconscious grappled with the unfamiliar weight of your body. He was accustomed to partners who were cold, unresponsive; but you were so warm and wet—a cadaver in waiting.

You flinched at the thought, a gentle pressure building in your core with each, desperate roll of your hips. You could feel him hardening beneath you, his soft moans and gasps spurring you on as you rubbed needily against him. With one final grind, you felt the wave of release wash over you, your body shuddering as you came. A strangled moan escaped your lips, the sound raw and desperate, waking Lawrence from his slumber.

With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, his eyes flew open, confusion clouding his gaze. A deep crimson heat flushed his cheeks as his expression shifted to shock, then anger. His hands shot up, gripping your hips with a painful intensity before jerking your pliant body off his own. You hit the floor with a sharp thud, the impact knocking the air from your lungs.

As you lay there, dazed and disoriented, Lawrence loomed over you, his features contorted with disgust and embarrassment. His chest heaved as he glared down at you, his grip on your hips now replaced by the cold, suffocating pressure of his hands around your throat.

"W-What the hell were you doing!?" his voice was low, trembling, as his fingers tightened behind your nape. The edges of your vision blurred, but amidst the fear, there was an undeniable thrill—a twisted fulfillment. With a weak, shaky breath, you managed to smile up at him, your lips curling in a fragile, almost serene grin.

You couldn't help but notice how he was still hard, his erection straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, creating an unmistakable outline. The sight only intensified your delirious contentment, as if his body's betrayal filled the void left by your captivity. Despite the constriction, you felt euphoric, basking with Lawrence in the sun's warm, golden embrace.

[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…

[nibblenettle]

can you draw toby seeing his mom in public from far but he doesn’t recognize her anyway?

he doesnt know,,,, but something in him hears her not a what shes saying but the person he was in her

[smutbutoutofnowhere]

me who has just found a new hyperfixation at the worst time possible and is willing to fail my entire academic career just to read more of the most horrifying nauseating toe curling jaw dropping smuts known to human kind:

[kanasbinwriting]

lawrence oleander with plus size reader please? :) sfw or nsfw is okay. or law with obsessive reader that’s already been kidnapped or maybe stalker reader :0! anyway, thank you. just silly ideas 🌨️

LAWRENCE X OBSESSIVE READER

Thank you so much for your request and sorry for the long wait!!! I will definitely write your other ideas too someday, so don't you worry ^^ I REALLY enjoyed writing this and I hope you're happy with the result!!!

- !It's mentioned once that Lawrence's taller than the reader!

TW: self-harm

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You don't know the odds of getting kidnapped; you’ve never bothered to look up the percentage. But one thing seems certain: you're pretty damn unlucky if it happened twice.

You never thought that you'd end up tied in a chair... again. You were quite a loner, so you thought that no one would even think about kidnapping you, but you got proved wrong. Twice.

Maybe you should've gone to therapy after the first time—or taken it more seriously and actually attended the sessions you skipped. Maybe, if you had, you would see how wrong it was that your heart beat in excitement as you watched the man with blonde hair tending his flowers. His back was turned to you, oblivious to your gawking. That is until he turned around and caught your gaze. His eyes widened when he noticed that you were awake and watching him rather intently. You felt your heart skip a beat when his eyes met yours, his blue eyes widening and his expression shifting nervously. You remember that day as if it were yesterday. From that day, you knew that Lawrence's special. You didn't even think about begging him to let you go. He was just so much more captivating than any other.

As sick as it sounds, you can't help but admire each cut he's given you, every single drop of your blood proof of your unending devotion. You wouldn't want to bleed for anyone else. You've lost track of how long you've been here. He seemed to like you in his own strange way since he hasn't killed you yet. You've managed to gain his trust and are no longer bound to that chair anymore, which you couldn't be more grateful for, as it was getting boring to be bound to that chair for hours. You got used to the coldness of his room. However, Lawrence allowed you to wear his hoodie if you were ever to feel cold, and you gladly used that privilege to its fullest.

Now, lying on his bed and holding his hoodie close, you take a deep breath, inhaling his scent.

It's been a few hours since he left to go work at the warehouse and you missed him dearly. Everything felt numb without him. There wasn't much you could do without him. He was thoughtful enough to buy you a few books, but you've already finished reading them, so they're of no help now. Oh, how you wish he were here with you. Maybe he'll let you style his hair again. Then again, he might be too drained from work, so he might just let you admire him as he does his own thing. Either way, you'd be grateful. You looked at the clock. Your eyes widened as you realized that he should have been at home by now. You stare at the clock for a few more seconds before shifting your attention outside. You felt your skin begin to itch as you looked at the night sky. Life can be so cruel sometimes. You missed how he would rant about plants and the awkward way he'd wrap his hands around you when you hugged him. A sense of unease builds as you begin scratching your arm, tears welling up in your eyes. How much longer must you suffer? You wrap your arms around yourself as your breathing gets heavier. You sulk, lost in your longing until you hear the front door unlocking. Your troubled expression instantly turned into one of joy. You didn't waste any time and sprung to your feet, practically running toward the front door.

Lawrence closed the door behind him and before he could greet you, you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him. You nuzzled your face against his neck, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent. You felt his body going stiff as you did. The smell of sweat overwhelmed you, but you didn't back away, indulging in the feeling of having him in your arms. "Hey..." he greeted you quietly, but didn't wrap his arms around you. Work must've been more tiring today. You hesitantly let him go when he puts a hand on your shoulder to softly push you away. He looked down at you with an expression you couldn't decipher. You already knew what was going to happen and you couldn't contain your excitement. "I want you to sit down on the chair." He demanded quietly and made his way past you to his kitchen. A smile appeared on your face as you made your way to the chair in the middle of his apartment and sat down obediently without saying a word. He rummaged through one of the drawers in the kitchen before looking back at you, his gaze meeting yours once more. His breath hitched and he quickly looked back down. He didn't know what your problem was. He's heard of Stockholm syndrome before, but he never would've thought that it would kick in as soon as it did. He felt your gaze linger on him. He used to feel uncomfortable whenever you stared at him this intensely, but after time's passed, he somehow grew quite fond of the attention you gave him. Maybe that's why he hasn't killed you yet. He grabbed a freshly sharpened knife and silently made his way toward you. Standing in front of you with the knife clutched in his hand, he gave you a smile you could only describe as kind of disturbing but fond in some way.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shifted nervously under his watchful gaze. He held out the knife beckoning you to take it. "I want you to do it yourself this time." He had a sickenly sweet expression on his face as he said that oh-so-casually. You let out a shaky, uncertain breath, but took the knife from his hand nonetheless. You lined up the sharp end of the knife against your wrist and pressed it into your skin, letting out a quiet hiss at the feeling.

You looked up at him once more, only to see that his attention was solely on your wrist. A thin line of crimson appeared, widening as blood began to slowly seep out. Your breathing got heavier as you sunk the knife once more, taking in his every reaction. "Am I doing good?" Your voice was soft and meek as you sliced your skin deeper this time. He took his time before replying with just a simple hum, not bothering to look at your face and seeming to be in his own world as he watched the blood stain your skin. You let out a shaky breath as a smile spread across your face at his praise. You could've sworn that you almost felt dizzy just by the way he was looking at you. The way he quietly observed you made your head spin and your breath quicken. Or it was due to the woozy haze of blood loss. You felt your vision darken as you felt the knife slip from your grasp and hit the floor with a sharp clink, the sound echoing through the empty room. Everything felt so warm as if someone pulled you into a tight hug.

Suddenly, Lawrence's scent surrounded you; you felt at ease and closed your eyes.

You let yourself drift, breathing in the warmth, the scent, as everything gently faded to black.

[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 ♡

[eliazspaceart]

Derek Goffard x child!reader [platonic]

Clarification This will be in the format of headcanons. I also want to say that the characters may not behave like their canon versions; it’s simply my interpretation. Another thing is that I previously thought about making it a book, but I realized that format wouldn’t be ideal for this. So, I preferred to make important and summarized points to make it coherent (I hope it is). So, I hope you enjoy it.

How they ended up in Derek's arms is quite... funny?

The child ended up at Fox’s auction because two new employees were supposed to take the mother, not the child.

Fox simply didn’t want the child and couldn’t just cancel the auction for potential future clients, so he continued with the plan, just changing a few things.

At the auction, the little one was scared, but still answered new questions. The people winning the auction were Celia and Derek.

But in the end, Derek won just to annoy Celia.

Obviously, Derek canceled his vacation to the desert. He may be a sadist, but he understands he can’t just take a 5-year-old child to the desert.

Also, I want to mention that in this AU, Derek has his "own" house. We put it in quotes because Derek’s father is paying for the house.

Once at home, Derek left the child in a guest room and told a servant that if the child woke up, to give them something to eat and drink.

Since Derek has money and power, he simply faked the child’s death and created a new identity. It was really easy.

Now the little MC was a Goffard, essentially his "biological" child. They didn’t look alike at all, but Derek would just say the child looks more like his "deceased" mother.

Now, the thing is, Derek as a father... mmm... he’s not a great father. He simply tries. He gives you comfortable things, gives you what you like, and those things. He spoils you, but, BUT if you become arrogant or rude, he takes those things away.

So, it’s better to just be calm and do what he says.

Your education would be at home, online. So yes, he keeps you isolated just out of fear that you might be taken away again.

In conclusion, Derek is not a very present father, but he tries. He gives you things so you don’t get bored, and if he has time in his schedule, he spends time with you watching TV or talking with you, having basic conversations.

If you're interested in this AU, I'd be happy to answer your questions about these two.

Please read this post, "Chronological List."

[vexxxie]

Maybe one day I'll finish this drawing lol

[avintmich]

💀

[shagnanigans]

Melting Ice

[Lawrence Oleander x Reader]

Word Count: 1.4k

CW: Noncon/Dubcon, AFAB reader, temperature play, threats of violence

[[a/n: I haven't rlly written anything recently, but I did this, so I hope people enjoy! It's also my first time writing for BTD so plz be kind]]

NSFT UNDER THE LINE

Living was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. Of course, some days were better than others under Lawrence’s care (if you could really call it that). But things had improved after the first few weeks. You did survive, after all. Despite how much he hurt you, he took you apart and put you together again. The warmth was what kept you going. The brush of cool fingertips over the base of your skull, the lips mouthing at your jaw to feel your heartbeat pulse under his lips.

The multiple keys unlocking the front door were the only warning you had that Lawrence was home. His footsteps were barely audible as Lawrence entered the studio apartment and took off his shoes.

“How was-“ Your question was cut off by Lawrence.             “Shh.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but an order. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he started pacing around in the living room. You didn’t really need an answer when he was acting like this. So, you shut your mouth while you could and turned your attention back to the kettle that was nearly at a boil on the stovetop. The apartment is silent as you rush to make Lawrence a cup of tea. When you creep over to him and hold out the steaming mug, Lawrence stops his pacing and looks down at it for a moment.

One of his hands darts out and grabs your wrist, and he uses the other to take the mug from you. “Get in bed.” He demands it quietly. His pale blue eyes are glaring at you. As you crawl into the small bed you shared, Lawrence went into the kitchen. You could hear the fridge door open and then one of the drawers opening. What on earth was he doing?

When Lawrence steps back into the main room of the studio, he walks over to you, setting an ice cube tray on the nightstand at the head of the bed. In his other hand was a knife.

“What are you-“

“Shh. I don’t want you to talk. Just lay on your back,” Lawrence relaxed as you laid back, “There. Now, be quiet. I’ll take out your tongue if you don’t.”

The first thoughts going through your head were, ‘Great, this is it. He finally decided he was bored with me and he’s going to kill me’ but you almost let out an audible gasp as you heard a loud rip. It was immediately followed by air on your bare thighs as Lawrence used the knife to cut open your pants and underwear. Lawrence then shoved your shirt up over your stomach, cracking the ice cube tray in a rush and taking one of the cubes between his fingers.

The ice cube was hurriedly shoved up your shirt, pressing incessantly against your bare stomach. Lawrence let your shirt fall back down over your stomach, leaving the ice cube to cool your skin. Water began soaking into your shirt as it slowly melted.

Lawrence crawls between your thighs and picks out another ice cube, pressing it against your lips. His eyes dart from your lips down to your exposed sex, never making eye contact for more than a split second as you watch him.

“Open.” He orders you quietly. When your lips part, he pushes the cube into your mouth so you can suck on it.

“You’re…so warm all the time. It’s better like this.” He murmured, staring at your lips. His patience wears thin, and the ice cube is only half melted in your mouth before he dips his head down and kisses you. His tongue delving past your lips to explore the slightly cooler expanse of your mouth and tongue. Lawrence only pulls away when you accidentally let out a little moan.

“I told you to be quiet.” Lawrence warns, letting out a sigh. One hand reaches for another ice cube, and he grabs your hip so hard that you’re sure there will be bruises once he lets go. A sudden jolt of painful coldness presses right against your clit. Biting your lip to avoid making another peep. Your hips reflexively trying to buck away, but Lawrence’s grip only tightens to wrangle you into place on the sheets. You really don’t feel like seeing what Lawrence may do if you don’t obey his orders, but you also can’t help but shiver and try to arch away.

Lawrence’s hands guide the piece of ice up from your folds, over your stomach, and up to your throat. His body moves along the path of cold water on your skin. His lips following the same path to feel your cool, wet skin under his rough lips. You hold your breath as Lawrence grabs your thighs, pushing them up and apart so he can slot himself against you.

When the ice cube finally reaches your lips, your eyes meet Lawrence’s. His eyelids were heavy, and his cheeks flushed pink in excitement. He doesn’t need to tell you what to do; your lips parting for him. The ice cube is popped into your mouth, his hand gliding down again to your neck. His fingertips cradling your throat to simply feel as you hold the ice cube on your tongue. Cold water fills your mouth as you lay still. Any discomfort you may feel is overridden by the delighted glimmer in Lawrence’s eyes, a rare treat.

After a moment of simply staring at each other he reaches up, pushing two fingers into your mouth to feel the cool muscle and flesh inside your mouth. The ice cube is now reduced to a sliver. A groan leaves Lawrence’s lips as his fingers explore your maw. Alarm bells ring off in your brain, but you know fighting back would make this worse for you.

Lawrence’s breath escapes him in shaky pants, “So good . . so cold. You’re perfect for me.”

He backs off, dragging his fingers out of your mouth, leaning back, and grabbing two more ice cubes. Both are bullied into your cunt, and his free hand is clamped on your hip. When Lawrence is satisfied, he removes his fingers and pushes down his pants enough to release his swollen cock. Precum is dribbling down the shaft. There’s very little time for you to admire him as he pushes inside of you alongside the ice cubes.

A guttural mix of whimper and groan is punched from Lawrence, his hips grinding forward until he is fully sheathed inside. As you moan in discomfort, you’re met with an annoyed glare. Lawrence lifts your hips into the air and sits up on his knees. Leaving your lower body lifted by his hold on your hips alone.

An immediately brutal pace is set, with whimpers and choked gasps filling the air. The freezing ice is being pushed around inside you as Lawrence chases his climax. He’s in his own world as you moan, his cock and the ice cubes reaching your g-spot repeatedly.

“We N-Need to do it like this more often,” Lawrence mumbles, hunching over you and licking a stripe over your breasts, his hot breath fanning over your moistened skin.

When you move one hand to try finishing yourself off, you receive a harsh bite on the tender swell of flesh Lawrence had been breathing against. “You squirm too much. I’d kill you if I didn’t want you still.”

Those words are enough for you to let your hand drop limply against the bed again. Flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, his thrusts growing more relentless. A telltale sign of his approaching climax. Shocking warmth suddenly exploding inside you. Explosions of pleasure shot up your spine and made your entire body rigid as your own climax followed.

He slowly draws himself out of you. Sighing in relief and slowly lowering you to lay entirely on the twin bed. All is quiet, save for your combined pants for breath. His cum was a stark contrast to the ice cubes and cool water dripping out of you and coating Lawrence’s groin. Lawrence was the first to speak.

“I’ll get a towel and warm up the tea you made,” he says, quickly disappearing into the kitchen. A slight pep in his step as he bustles around for a towel to clean you up and to reheat the tea you made for him. Based on his attitude, you can only assume this odd temperature play will be mixed into your sex life for the foreseeable future.