#hes so pathetic i bet he'd whimper <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[transgenderprototype]

This game is terrible for meeee im too gay for this aauAAUuughhh

[hitomisuzuya]

HI SUZUUU! Hope ur doing well :3 Can we please have a feral Scara breeding reader over and over until they can’t think straight anymore? 🙏 With some overstimulation and bondage if possible :3 LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HOPE U GET BETTER AFTER TOMORROW!!

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Breeding kink. Creampie. Bondage. Overstimulation. Feral!Scara. Degradation.

This is my face writing this: 😳 Why is creampie such a hot word? Thank you very much 🥺

"Such delicate little wrists," Scaramouche took the time to drag his tongue down one of your wrists before admiring his work. You looked twice as delicate as your wrists, all helpless tied up for him. The purple ribbon he'd chosen to tie your wrists above your head with complimented your skin perfectly.

Seeing you like this made it twice as hard to stand the throbbing in his cock. But, he didn't just want to breed you. He wanted to hear you beg for him to breed you. Beg for him to cum inside you. He doubted he would be able to control himself.

He groaned feeling your wet slick rapidly soaking onto his cock as he grinded against your clit. He was willing to bet that if he curled two fingers inside of you right now, you would immediately feel tight.

"Come on, kitten," Scaramouche encouraged, grasping your chin to make you look at him, "It's easy for you to use your words. I want to hear you beg like the slut you are," He didn't think he could get any harder until he saw the look of adoration welling in your pretty eyes as he degraded you.

The friction of his cock rubbing against your throbbing clit felt so good. Your hips were jerking and rolling into his, the cutest whimpers and moans of shocked pleasure sounding from you. "Please, fuck me, and cum inside of me. Please, please," Was all you could manage before the throbbing in your clit spilled a string of moans from you.

Scaramouche is practically salivating as he grasped his cock, and hastily lined it up with your weeping hole. There was something so arousing about stretching you apart, and pumping you so full of cum that it seeped out around his cock with every thrust.

A pocket of cum in your stomach had the chance to lead to a stomach swollen with child. He let out a low, dominant growl at the thought.

"Such pathetic desperation," He moaned, pushing his cock inside of you. "I need more of it," Your back arched off the bed as his cock kissed into your sweet spot.

It was twice as invigorating for him to hold you down with one hand while he fucked his cock inside you. The amount of control you were giving him, letting him move your head to side so he could bite and suck at the sensitive skin next to your throat made absolutely weak.

You trusted him enough to let him bite the most vulnerable place on your neck. To let his teeth carelessly gnaw and suck at it until dominant marks of possession bloomed. What did he do to deserve such a fucking treasure?

"Deeper, Scara! Harder, please!" You pleaded, writhing underneath him. As comforting as it felt to be tied up for him, you wished you could touch him too. To press his mouth into your neck in that way he likes.

"So fucking tight. You are craving to milk my cock," Scaramouche moaned, his hips snapping into yours as he increased his pace. He was getting lost in the tight feeling of your cunt.

You struggled to hook a leg over one of his hips, the furious pace of his cock nudging into your sweet spot took your breath away. "Sc-Scara, I can barely..barely.." The pleasure was so overwhelming you could barely think, your body quaking with the ache of over stimulation. "Barely breathe," You rocked your hips up so obediently as shameless moans grew louder in octave.

Scaramouche laughed hearing you barely being able to form a simple sentence while you moaned. "You can take it, I know you can," He pinched one of your nipples for extra stimulation, rolling it between the pads of his fingers until it hardened.

You couldn't help it. His feral pace made you cum suddenly, your moans were tinged with a shyness he found endearing. Your body had the delicious, extra twitch of overstimulation. It was all the more erotic for him.

Now that he made you cream hard on his cock, his thrusts turned somewhat careless, aiming to drive his cock as deep inside as it could go. "Just once isn't going to be enough," He growled, leaning down to capture your lips in an aggressive, passionate kiss. He moaned into your mouth, forcing his tongue past your lips.

You felt the pulsing of his cock between your sensitive walls as cum ribboned inside of you. Your mewls of bliss only further server to fuel the fire of his pace.

He scoffed once he pulled out, seeing beads of cum drip from your hole. "Tch, this isn't enough cum," Your hips twitched up into his fingers as he fingered his cum back inside of you.

[hencheri]

jaehyun and non connnn

18+. mdni.

dealer!jaehyun <3

warnings: noncon, drugs consumption.

.

jaehyun's eyes roam over your body with a playful gleam in them, a cigarette secured between his pink lips. he likes the way you look everywhere but at him, as if the white polish on your toe nails is more interesting than him.

your back is leaned against the brick wall, the small space of the alleyway forcing jaehyun to be closer to you than what would be considered normal. he can almost smell your shampoo, deciphering some floral tones. unfortunately, the tobacco in the air is too strong for him to know exactly which scent it is.

originally, your boyfriend haechan was supposed to meet jaehyun here to buy from him, but when he arrived, he found you alone. haechan wouldn't take long, you said, though it's been a few minutes already and there's no sign of him.

it gives jaehyun the opportunity to look at you, at least. see what kind of girl you are.

he can tell you're the shy type, clinging to her boyfriend because she doesn't know what to do without him. so clearly, you're super uncomfy right now. it's like leaving a kitten in the wild; it doesn't know how to survive in this big, scary world.

"want one?" jaehyun offers you a cigarette, showing you the small pack that he pulls from the pocket of his jean jacket.

you briefly glance at him, then at the packet before shaking your head as a no. he didn't expect you to say yes, but he wanted to break the ice.

he puts it back in his pocket, taking a step forward. you notice this pretty quickly, eyes staring at his shoes, moving your legs to rest against the wall.

"haechan isn't in a hurry," he comments, and he knows you're intimidated by him. it's obvious with the way you seem to be glued to the wall, arms crossed over your chest, wanting to be as small as possible.

"i'm sorry," you mumble, apologizing for your boyfriend, "i swear he's coming."

your wide eyes finally look up and meet his. there's something in them that he likes, thrills for; you're scared.

scared of jaehyun.

you have reasons to be, he won't lie. maybe you're right to be afraid of the way he towers over you, of his eyes shamelessly staring at your skimpy outfit.

"he's wasting my time," jaehyun adds, the smoke flowing out of his mouth as he talks, gently washing over your face. "and i hate when people think they can fool me around."

you shake your head again, swallowing down the lump in your throat. you don't want jaehyun to be pissed, and certainly not at you. it's not like it's your fault, but that's exactly what he wants; you to think that it's your fault, that you need to save your boyfriend from his troubles.

"jaehyun, i- i promise he doesn't mean to. i don't know what he's doing, but i'm sure-" you stutter out, and you sound absolutely pathetic.

he groans, interrupting you at the same time. "you know what, maybe you could make up for my time."

jaehyun comes even closer, caging you between his body and the wall. he takes his cig out of his mouth, throwing it on the ground and crushing the end under the sole of his shoe.

"...what?" you breathe out, voice shaky.

he bends down until his mouth is right beside your ear. "i'm sure haechan won't mind... he'd do anything for his stupid weed, anyway," he whispers.

and with that, he turns you around, his hands reaching your panties under your dress and dragging them down your thighs. you squirm around, trying to stop jaehyun's hands, but he locks them behind your back, making you whimper, feeling totally powerless.

he softly tucks your hair behind your ear, pressing his crotch against your ass, making you feel how hard he is. "it's okay, pretty. i'm gonna take good care of you..." he says, humming in your ear. "bet your little boyfriend doesn't do that often, hm?"

your mouth is wide open when he makes his way inside of you, forcing his cock between your tight walls. it's painful and you have a hard time standing steady on your legs, your knees threatening to fail you multiple times.

his thrusts knock the air out of your lungs, whines and moans slipping past your pretty lips that jaehyun imagines around his girth, choking on it like he bets you always do.

he doesn't even pull out, releasing himself deep inside of your pussy as he knows you'll think of him each time his cum will flood out of you and into your panties. and it'll also anger haechan, knowing that coward won't do a thing about it.

jaehyun gently pats your pussy when your panties are back on, only kissing the corner of your lips. "tell haechan i'm letting it slide tonight, but next time, i'm taking what's his."

[meo-eiru]

Hihihiii :3 Hope you're having a great day author!

This is my first direct interaction in this website generally speaking, so what better way to start than rambling my head off about the twink slutty baby? YES. Lavi. That cute whore that's been on my mine for a good while now...I want to kiss him, want him to cuddle me so bad grrrr I want to rim his pretty ass and use it as my only life source for the rest of my mortal existence. I want to follow every single one of his instructions on how to please him while he guides me with that shit eating smug grin '>:3'. I totally see him as a power bottom, riding my strap effortlessly while he pins me down telling me how much of a pathetic virgin I am and how fortunate I am to even be touching him, how lucky I am that he's willing to teach me how to make him feel good, how he'd laugh once I'm exhausted and he keeps nonchalantly bouncing still with his endless incubi stamina...MMMM...But also, I want to hit his ribs each time he throws an annoying tauntrum, or make him whimper each time he breaks something expensive, I want to sneak into his phone and watch just all the dozens of porn he has in his gallery along with his search history, I need to make him cry so hard until we're both doubting who's the real pervert here...I NEED to peg him. I NEED to spank his cute jiggling ass until it's red and sore. I need to make him deepthroath my strap and perhaps give me head. I NEED to grope his cute small chest and nurse on his rosy nipples while he tries to make a teasing remark only to be interrupted by his own lewd moans. I NEED to watch how all that lube and cum slowly leaks out of his puffy hole with profane sounds while spreading his supple asscheeks further apart as he whines and mewls begging for more. I NEED to cuddle him from behind while I finger his thight whorish asshole, I NEEEED to give him some genuine, gentle love-making while kissing his pretty face and cooing sweet nothings into his ears while he grabs onto my neck thightly saying shamelessly how good it feels.

I want to give him goodnight kisses on the forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes, tummy and finally his soft lips. I want to feel him clinging onto me with his limbs (and tail of course) while we sleep, even better if he craddles my head on his chest. I might even forgive his murders if he promises to be a good boy with a pretty pout even though he'd probably be crossing his fingers behind his back. I want to do each other's hair and nails. I want him to listen to the music I listen to (Rabbit Hole by DECO27 would be SO him). I want to see his deadpaned and disdainful face when I tell him all my bad jokes. I want to go out with him at those aesthetic cafés and buy him everything he wants even if I won't be able to buy anything else for a while. I want us to get matching couple cheesy things. I want us to do lovey dovey stuff together and maybe a kiss that doesn't end up looking out of a hentai. A wholesome one. I want him to live on my lap. I want him to try make him wear decente clothes from time to time. I want to see his reaction once my mortal life comes to an end. (If he cries and gets depressed he'll look so pretty but if he laughs he'll also look so pretty). I want to show him off to my friends even if I know he's probably the type that types 'uwu', ':3' or 'nya~' either satirically or not. I would bear the cringe for him. I want to send him memes and reels and, overall, just hear his laugh because I'm sure it would be gorgeous just like him. <3

He literally lives rent free in my mind this is a call for help. I crave for more Lavi content.

I'm not horny. You are.

Anyway, thanks for the constant posting! I love how you write your characters and draw/paint! You're one of my favorite artists. Eat well and have a good day/night. :)

Oh my dear GOD this was a ROLLER COASTER

I don't even know where to start. Alright so first of all, this is so deliciously written omg??? You made me put Lavi on a plate and eat him I bet he'd taste like cake. The contrast between the wholesome parts and the extremely unholy parts were crazy I felt like I was in a car that randomly speeds up and down

Rabbit hole is indeed very Lavi, the animation fits him so well as well. If I knew how to make them I'd definitely draw a Lavi version. And yes he's definitely the type who'd type "uwu" and ">:3" unironically

THE DRAWINGS ARE SO CUTE AS WELL!! HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE AND CUTE BUTT

[mountainficss]

How about edging and overstim sub Shua? i wonder how he'd react to it, I bet he looks so pretty :(

!! mentions of: sub!joshua, edging, handjobs, unprotected sex, overstimulation

ugh shua is so pretty and sweet ;( i feel like he’d be so well behaved omg.

i think he’d take everything you give him with no complaints. he’s just a sweet boy, he’d be so thankful for you even being in the same room as him. he’d love when you edge him, stroking his throbbing erection for hours on end. he’d just feel so warm and turned on when he feels your hand around his length ;( doesn’t even care if you don’t let him cum right away, just loves feeling the slow slick drag of your hand on his cock. might even beg for you to edge him honestly, because he knows the orgasm you give him will be so much more powerful if you continue to edge him. and when you finally sink down onto his cock? oh he’ll absolutely lose it. feels like he’s gonna cum even though you’re barely moving, and can’t help but let out pathetic whimpers as you circle your hips. you’d lift yourself slowly and drop down harshly back onto his length. the sound of your skin colliding with his would drive him insane, he’d end up rolling his eyes back as you ride him. he’d feel like he was in heaven, that you were blessing him with your tight heat and your alluring body. and oh he’d cum so much inside of you, and even though he’s sooo overstimulated he’d still beg and plead for you to keep going </3 you’d be a little worried about him but you’d continue to use him, the sound of his needy moans filling the room. he’d try to roll his hips up into yours and meet your thrusts because the overstimulation hurts so good. his face would be so flushed and his hair would be all messy by the time you finish with him ;( god he’d be the cutest ever.

taglist: @imprettyweird , @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @c-hanniehae , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes

[mvskedxrtist]

Let’s take a crack at a Hazbin request:

Reader (whatever gender you’d like) x Lucifer, I feel like he’d have some fun kinks? So maybe the reader giving Lucifer a reward after he was instructed not to touch himself for the last few days, being constantly edged to an orgasm but just barely not getting to and quickly becoming a mess.

I’m thinking specifically edging, praise, maybe some light degradation about how pathetic he’s being, getting oral and fingering

(Everything else I leave to your capable hands :3)

-💜

Such a Good Angel

Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Edging, Mommy Kink, Praise, Fingering, Light Degration, Oral (M Receiving), Cockwarming, Nipple Play

Nᴏᴛᴇ: Another request means another star in my sky of smut. Thank you for requesting! I'm surprised at myself that I've had so much motivation to post but it just means y'all get this earlier than expected. Also: requests are open! I take 3 requests at a time, please read the rules and how to requests, also remember that I don't just do Hazbin so please look at other fandoms I've written for. Last but not least, I'm starting a tag list!! So if you want to be tagged for all posts just comment! If you want to be tagged for a specific fandom, just comment that as well!

Tᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @hobbylobbyy

AFAB!Reader x Lucifer Morningstar - Such a Good Angel

It was a few days before the infamous call Charlie gave to her dad to visit the hotel. And in the days before, you had made a cute bet with Lucifer. If he could go a week without touching himself or trying to get off, then he'd get a large prize that'd last the whole day. If he didn't, well there would be a punishment in store for the big boss of hell.

And he was doing ok for the challenge. There were a few times he almost lost himself in the pleasure an came but he stopped himself which impressed you quite much. And then the day that Charlie called him, was actually the day before the end of the challenge. And you decided to just add one last thing for this challenge because of Charlotte's call. If Lucifer did rekindle his relationship with Charlie, the challenge can end right there and he'd get his gift.

So when Lucifer came back very giddy and excited but exhausted, that just told you all that you wanted.

You led Lucifer into bed and kissed him passionately as you slid his shirt up and started rubbing his nipples gently. "So cute under me, baby~" You chuckled and squeezed his nipples gently, hearing his soft high pitched moans. "H-hah~ mommy~" Lucifer held your arms gently until you released his nipples and pushed him down onto the bed more.

"My sweet fallen angel~ so sensitive already~ You're doing amazing for such a needy boy~" You teased him and chuckled softly, taking his pants off. Lucifer looked completely flushed but smiled at you, squealing gently when your mouth enveloped his entire length. "M-mommy!~" He could feel his eyes roll back and released his wings out quickly out of the stimulation.

You looked up and chuckled, pulling his cock out of your mouth but sliding your fingers into his asshole. "My, my, Luci~ crumbling like a little bitch in heat~" You taunted him and started fingering him faster, looking at his already teary face. "N-nghh~ t-too much Mommy~" He panted heavily and looked like he wanted to stop you but he let you continue the immense pleasure.

Lucifer looked like he was about to cum all over himself but whimpered loudly when you pulled your fingers out of him. "What was that for, Mommy?!" "I'm not done yet, Lucifer.~ And don't you want to be a good angel for me?~"

[another-lost-mc]

hiii i love your most recent levi imagine!!! if you’re available i’d love to see a continuation, it’s so cute, i’d love whimpering levi begging for forgiveness and flushed with utmost embarrassment. your om writing is my favourite fr! hope you have a lovely day <3

A/N: I think I wrote three versions of this, it really could've ended so many different ways.

LEVIATHAN x gn!Reader, 0.8k words, nsfw/mdni.

Content warnings: continuation of this scene. Insecurity/anxiety, handjobs, suggestive content.

It takes a few seconds for Levi to realize that someone's in his room, and he jerks his hand away from his cock like it burns. He doesn't yell at them to get out or ask what they want—the only sound he can manage is a pathetic little whine because he had to stop touching himself. After a few more seconds, he realizes it's only you. Ha—only you, as if that's not the worst possible scenario.

You mumble something about forgetting your phone, and he just manages to cover his lap with a pillow by the time you walk around the sofa. He's not sure how he didn't notice the plastic edge of your D.D.D. wedged into the sofa beside him. It's digging into his thigh, but he can't hand it to you—his fingers are still tacky with precum.

Something flickers across your face and it catches him off-guard. He expects anger, disgust, or maybe confusion. He's not sure why you suddenly look nervous, and you shuffle on your feet and bite your lip. What the hell do you have to be nervous about?

His cock twitches underneath the pillow and he's sweating through his shirt, and he can't stop staring at you wearing those clothes that leave nothing to the imagination. He always wondered what you would look like naked, but this might be even hotter. Your shorts are tight and they roll up your thighs slightly, and he'd bet a thousand grimm you're not wearing any underwear either. When you lift your arms, that strip of cloth pretending to be a shirt rides up even more and he gets a nice little nip slip.

You drive him crazy. You need to leave before he does something really stupid, but then he thinks about his brothers seeing you like this and that's even worse. He knows the way they look at you, and they'd probably have the nerve to say or do all the things he wishes he could.

He gets so lost in his own mental spiral of envy and self-deprecation that he doesn't even notice that you moved closer until your legs bump against his. That apprehensive look on your face is gone and he swallows around the lump in his throat when you lean forward. His mouth is cotton-dry and he licks his lips, and his eyes dart down your chest where your not-a-shirt hangs loose and fuck he feels dirty but he can't help but stare—

He jolts when your hand brushes against his thigh. This is the part when he thinks you're going to grab your phone and yell at him for being a gross pervert and storm away. That's what he expects, but that's not what happens—your fingers inch over his thigh and pause at the edge of the pillow instead. Your breathing's a little heavier now and your eyes are molten with lust, and he's never seen you like this before and he wants you so bad.

He's paralyzed with shame and need. He thinks your lips tick up into a little smile before your face becomes a blur, and there's one last warm puff of air against his mouth before your lips press against his. Your hand nudges the pillow off his lap and it falls to the floor at his feet, and he finally kisses you back when he realizes you want this. He pants against your lips after your teeth clack together, and he opens his mouth when your tongue nudges inside and curls with his. His cock starts aching all over again, but you kneel over his thighs and wrap your fingers around him. It's going to be over soon because it's too much, it's nothing like he ever imagined because it's better. He doesn't feel embarrassed about moaning into another sloppy kiss because you echo him with a needy sound of your own.

He spills all over your fingers and his cock twitches because he wants more. Your flimsy crop top makes a better rag than a shirt—you yank it over your head and wipe your hand clean with it while your eyes glance at something over his shoulder. You slide off his lap and head towards his tub. It takes him longer than it should to accept that not only are you still here, but you're half-naked and settling into his nest of body pillows and blankets in his makeshift bed. He recognizes what that dark, half-lidded gaze means and he stands up, powerless to resist you and desperate to follow. Maybe this is a mistake but fuck it—he's not going to refuse you now, not when he's already hard again and his fingers twitch with the urge to rip those dainty little shorts off you. There's so much to talk about, so much he wants to ask, so much he wants to say, but that can wait—there'll be time for talking later.

Obey Me! Masterlist | Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @xpixie @tortibomb @amberrskiies @angelsdilf @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @lust--on--my--lips @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @cosmicstarlatte @alexxncl @i-am-empress-irish @ezraiix @bizarrebankai @devildomd0ll @alexxavicry @moon-i-v @ablondehoe @vinsmouke @kiirschtein @halaxia @bookoffracturedescapes

[urmomsgnocchi]

18+ minors dni i stg sub!joel miller (taste of switch!joel in the end) x fem! reader

little drabble bc all I can think of today is using joel miller like a toy it's very bad!!

bf!Joel Miller's competitive ass losing a bet with you and your prize is to have your way with him until he taps out

warnings: overstim (unrealistic standards for ppl with penises. will we ever really know how many times joel came? 😔), joel calls you mama 2 times get over it <3, good boy!joel miller, bondage but very light, unprotected piv sex (not mentioned but also condoms are not mentioned), tiniest bit of oral m!recieving, riding <3, now that I think abt it consensual free-use/somno kinda?? for like 2 seconds??

joel isn't a gambler by any means, but he trusts his luck now and again. so when flirting during game night leads to a bet on who would win the most of the games you'd set out for the night, he'd thought he had it in the bag....

hours later he's tied to the bed frame by the silky straps you keep in the box under your bed, whining and panting as you ride him through his second orgasm of the night. your touch hasn't left his body since your little game started

a water break in between, little check ins reminding him that he can tap out whenever he wants but he's gotten competitive again, he won't let you win.

he's a big strong man he can handle a few orgasms? you'll tire out first right?

hours and hours pass and Joels blissed out and pussy drunk, tears shining on his cheeks and throat raw from all the whines, moans, screams, he barely remembers letting out. he can't tell how long you've been at it or how many times you've pulled pure bliss out of his body, all he knows is that he's wet, whether it's from your pussy once again soaking his lap, from your mouth that's kissed and kitten licked every inch of his skin, from his own cum that's dripped down from you onto his thighs and bedsheets, or from the cooling sweat that's trickling down his forehead and neck.

he feels you tighten around him as he vaguely recognizes your moans through the fog of his last orgasm. your body chokes him tight as you reach your peak once again and his body starts to shake. he mumbles out what's meant to be "thank you mama" but comes out more like choked gasps and shuddered breaths as he feels himself twitch inside you. you climb off him and trace the last little dribbles he has left with your tongue. he jolts at the feeling, his body pulling taut as he tugs on the ties still securing him to the bed posts and lets out the most pathetic little strained whines in protest.

"all right baby I think I'll tap out for you huh?" you speak down to him from your position between his twitching thighs, "think maybe you took as much as you can" your finger gently tracing down his now soft but still weeping cock.

a weak whimper in response "please baby. m'done"

"did so good for me though my sweet boy" you untie his arms and let him curl into your side, stroking his hair as his body finally slows it's shuddering.

you wake up hours later to joel's cock, firm and warm, sliding in and out the apex of your thighs, his voice hot, wrecked, and alive in your ear,

"mornin sunshine," his arms snake around your waist and hip to pull you up where he wants you "didn't think I gave up did ya? just needed a breather, now let's see how much you can take mama..."

[amourtoken]

possibly thinking of semi mean dom noah who refuses to touch you because you’re being a brat but he can’t help it he wants to see you cum so he makes you touch yourself while he’s fucking your throat :3 your fingers aren’t as good as his and it’s not enough but he won’t let you stop because he likes the way you moan and whine when he’s in ur mouth

maybe it started bc he caught you trying to get yourself off when he specifically told you not to, and “if your fingers are so much better than mine, fucking prove it”

sorry that’s all

ghHhh yeah

Noah usually wouldn't give a fuck but he woke up in a mood today so congrats you have to deal with it!

You had no clue he was gonna be home so early from the studio and unfortunately for you, he walked right in on you with your hand between your legs. He could've just climbed into bed and helped you out, but where's the fun in that if he can't make you suffer just a little bit?

He'd have you on your knees with his big cock down your throat within a minute lol, his hand a little too tight in your hair making you wince but the force of his thrusts into your throat really made your eyes water. He thinks you're adorable like this, all whiny and broken for him. He can't give in just yet though, he doesn't feel like you've really learned your lesson.

"What baby, doesn't feel as good as when I do it? Should've waited for me then."

"you were so needy earlier what's wrong now? Can't get off without me?"

"Maybe I'll help you, but I don't feel like you're really sorry yet."

Your hand was still pathetically working between your legs, chasing pleasure that you know you wouldn't reach without his help and unfortunately you can't beg for it when he's 8 inches deep in your throat. The way you were squirming and whimpering was a pretty good indication of your struggle though.

Noah fucked your throat until he was right at the edge of his own orgasm before pulling out and literally lifting you off the floor to toss you on the bed, hilting himself inside you in a single thrust. After the tears started really flowing, he couldn't help himself. Plus he really wanted to cum inside you so-

He slis a hand between your bodies to show you how much better his fingers felt than yours, tracing the perfect patterns on your clit to make your legs shake and your vision prick with black spots around the edges. It didn't even take 15 seconds to have you cumming around his cock and literally wracking with sobs.

"Told you my hands are better than yours. Think you're gonna cum without me again?"

"Pretty thing, yeah I bet this feels a lot better hm? Should've just asked for my help in the first place."

"I should make you cum until you forget you can get off without me."

[sparkedblaze]

cw more abuse and bad times <3

modern au - hey hey, what if. oscar and morris’ pa coming to one of their fights.

he usually likes to forget they exist, and they do the same, but he can’t help but see them crop up more and more over the years - they’re public figures, rising in notoriety. he sees the occasional article, sees them on magazine covers and ads, sees their fights advertised in the betting shops he frequents. sees that they always win. and then he sees a poster that they’re fighting in soho, where he still lives. and usually he’d never seek them out, doesn’t care nearly enough, but it’s just too tempting.

he walks in late and he’s just a single face amongst the crowd, but morris catches sight of him in his peripheral - instinct, like a prey animal - while he’s circling his opponent in the ring. he’s instantly so distracted he takes a brutal hit from his opponent and is levelled to the ground, and it’s almost like his papa hitting him all over again.

(oscar can’t see their pa from where he’s stood. he has no idea what’s wrong.)

OHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOO

So, something I haven't told y'all about the modern au

The Delancey's pa does actually find them one day.

Also mystery anon asking for Medda angst, tell me something

Are you sure you want that?

*

Walter smirked down at him as Morris fell to the ground, watching Oscar try and scramble into the ring when he doesn't get up. Weak. Pathetic. Just like he'd always known. He sat down in his seat, watching the events unfold.

The round stopped when Morris doesn't get back up. A timeout until they can use the smelling salts to wake him. He watched Oscar run to Morris, leaning over to whisper to him. He could almost hear the whimpering voice from a lifetime ago.

Cowardly boy.

He smirked again as Oscar's eyes searched the crowd, their eyes locking. He could feel the glare received as he tipped his hat at his older son.

Oscar moved to speak to the referee, and the man in the ring listened and nodded as he spoke.

Walter stood. Oscar's fight wasn't for another hour or so. He'd go speak with them between fights, and he knew Morris would never continue. Boy couldn't ever look past his fears.

He started down the steps as the referee announced that Morris was forfeiting the fight. What a surprise that was.

He made his way out the back door, seeing no security on the way. He supposed they were around the perimeter more than back here.

It didn't matter. They'd let him pass anyhow, wouldn't they? He was their father, for Christ's sake.

He found their changing room and pushed open the door, hearing a dog bark before even entering fully.

Not that he ever got the chance to.

A weight slammed against the door, and Oscar's glaring eye found him through the crack in the door.

"You ain't welcome in here. You ain't comin' in. We already got security comin' for ya," he sneered, pushing harder, trying to close the door in Walter's face.

"I'm welcome anywhere I please, boy, don't you- Morris, you cut that wailin' out or I swear!" Walter's gaze shifted behind Oscar, toward the open bathroom door.

He could hear the snap of Morris's teeth as his mouth closed, that old satisfaction creeping back into his bones.

Oscar was unmoving against the door, though the rage in his eyes built with each passing moment.

"Why you look so mad, boy? I made you into this. I built you up from nothin'! Hell you still is nothin'!" Walter cackled. "Bet you can't afford all them fancy clothes you flauntin' round in."

"It ain't none of your business, Pa," Oscar growled out, still unrelenting.

"I seen them posts. How mad you got at that boy. You ain't told nobody," it wasn't a question, Walter knew they hadn't. "You know silence don't come free, boy."

He watched his son's sneer grow, and finally the door budged.

Walter stepped up, smirking. "Glad you come to yo-"

He sucked in a breath as Oscar's head slammed into his.

"Don't you ever come here threatenin' us. We ain't no scrawny little boys no more, pa," Oscar stood between Walter and the bathroom.

"Wonder if both of you feel that way. Don't you, Morris?"

He heard another faint whimper from the bathroom.

"Leave him alone, pa. He ain't done nothin'."

"I've never agreed with you more, Oscar," Walter held a hand to his nose as he stepped back outside. "Sleep on it. Let me know by tomorrow."

"The answer is no," Oscar snapped.

"Then, I guess you ain't got nothin' to think about," Walter shrugged. "Like, perhaps the fact that it would ensure you never see me again."

He could see the boy working it over in his head.

"Ahhhh... There it is..." he sighed. "Like I said. Sleep on it."

Walter turned back to the hallway as a woman stormed down it.

Oscar groaned behind him as she rounded the corner, snapping out a short "What?"

The woman raised a brow at him. "Don't take that tone with me, Oscar Delancey. How is he?"

Walter raised a brow at him. "Delancey? That what you been tellin' folks?"

Medda turned toward Walter, eyebrows high. "Are you saying that isn't their name?"

He scoffed. " 'Course it ain't. They always been Williams."

"Oscar, who is this?"

"I'm their-"

"Excuse me, sir, I didn't ask you," her hand went up, and her eyes never left Oscar. She needed to know if he wanted her to do something about this man.

"Medda, this 's our pa."

"Your pa?" Walter didn't think her eyebrows could go any higher. "Mhm."

She turned to him, and Walter gave her a smile.

"Alright then, sir, let me speak to you. Just a second," she stepped closer to him. "I just want to get some things straight."

Her hand came down hard against his cheek, and Walter was bent over, clutching his cheek.

Oscar let out a tense laugh at the sight, caught halfway between fear and awe. He'd never ever seen Medda get violent before. Usually gentle and caring, and everything their pa never had been.

"Don't you ever come near my boys again! Do you understand me?" Her voice rose in a way that Oscar could never have dreamt. The way that made him cover his ears. "You have no right to even come close! And if you don't get to steppin' now, I'm callin' security and they gonna carry you right on out of here."

She stepped closer, glaring up at him. "So, Mister Williams, you gettin' outta here your way? Or mine?"

Oscar watched as pa glared up at him, but turned as Doggy barked, a warning that Morris was on the move.

He peeked around the doorway. "Mama?

" 'S that you?" His voice was quiet, but he took a few steps closer. Oscar tried to stop him as Morris ducked out of the door, Doggy right behind him.

"Wait, Mo-"

"Mama!" Morris cried as he dashed toward her, hugging her tight, still shrinking away from pa.

Walter's eyes went wide, and his face contorted with rage. "That ain't your ma! She ain't nothin'!"

Medda held just as tight as Morris, kissing his head and brushing her hand through his curls.

She wheeled around to give Walter another verbal beatdown, but she never got the chance.

Oscar had stormed over, and swung.

"She been more a ma then you ever was a pa!" He kept swinging, letting out years upon years of heartbreak and panic and fear.

Oscar was done being afraid.

He was done letting Morris be afraid.

It wasn't until a hand landed on his shoulder that he stopped. His hands were bloody and his knuckles ached-it'd been so long since he'd fought bare knuckled- but he felt so good.

"Oscar, dear... Go call security. They'll escort him out of here," she didn't say it, but Oscar knew what she was giving him time to do.

He had to get cleaned up before Morris saw him.

*

👏🏼YOU👏🏼NEVER👏🏼STOP👏🏼BEING👏🏼MEDDA’S👏🏼KID👏🏼

I love this and everything it turned into

[planetdream]

so there's this asmr where the boyfriend gets his 3 friends to degrade the reader over a videocall. my brain went 4 people? 3racha and minho. who would be who and why? here's what the writer wrote for the roles. #1 boyfriend: came up with the plan // #2 condescensing and patronizing, says things like "such a cute girl" // #3 very dominant, barks orders, and controls the situation // #4 very mean and degrading

gonna act a fool rn...

the boyfriend is jisung <3 i think he'd be the most into sharing his s/o out of all four of them; even though he's not physically sharing his partner. he gets off on the idea that other people get off to you. not to mention, it's mostly for him to be like "haha, i have something you can't have". especially if it's a video call and they get to watch him fuck you?? he's 100% gonna be showing out, just cause he can.

number two, i would say is changbin—like he's not exactly mean but there's something kinda vicious (and sexy) in his words and tone of voice. he's a lot more condescending to jisung than he would be to you though. saying things like; "such a pretty pussy, too bad jisungie's not fucking it right" or a not-so sly "bet i could fuck them better". is indeed foaming at the mouth at the sight tho.

number three just seems so right for it to be chan. jisung (and you) really trust chan (you trust all of them, but especially him) to proceed with the more dominant and controlling position. yes, chan makes the orders, but jisung also gets to decide whether or not he actually wants to do them—so yeah, expect him to disobey channie's orders, but you? nah baby you have to listen and follow directions, zero choices in that; but he's pretty nice to you tho <3

number four goes to minho—spewing all kinds of degrading phrases and such. "nasty little slut likes to be watched, huh?" or "look at them, creaming your cock just from my words. maybe changbin is right, you're not fucking them correctly". likes to laugh at you when you whine and whimper at every little thing jisung does to you; likes to call you pathetic and a cock hungry whore because of it.

i honestly think changbin and minho go back and forth from degrading you to mostly degrading and poking fun at jisung. like, he doesn't mind chan ordering him around (to a point) and now he's kinda irritated and just has to show them exactly how cock drunk he makes you; how messy and fucked out he knows you can be for him because he's done it plenty of times.

by the end of it, you're spent and jisung's cum is all over you—in your hair, leaking from your mouth that just can't seem to close, all over your cunt...spits in your mouth at the end and even shoves you closer to the camera by your hair, tell you to tell the other three thank you. even gives them a close-up of you cum-covered cunt, muttering about how it's only his to fuck.

then he'll sign off and give u lots of kisses and cuddles..might even make you cum again as a thank you for agreeing to and allowing him to do this <3

[morgana-ren]

I noticed youd said that you get more shiggy requests. So, if you'll indulge me for a sec.

We've had gatos input on how strade would be if the roles were reversed. Mc somehow had him under their control with the shock collar on.

I want your input because your writing is so detailed i know id enjoy reading what a submissive little bitch he'd become.

Please and thank you Morgana.

ily :3

Oh OH You know me so well! This is one of my favorite things to daydream about when I get angry or annoyed because since Strade is such a garbage human being, it tickles me so much to think about how cathartic it would be to turn the tables.

So as well all know, Strade, while very experienced, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s got years of know-how behind his expertise in kidnapping and torture, but there’s some shit that just kind of evades him sometimes. Double checking your ropes after he gets a little too excited and wants a dirty basement floor romp, for example. Thanks to his overexcitement and shit-idiot brain fungus he’s got going on, it’s entirely possible for you to slip your bonds. This mistake, in canon, costs him his life. 

But what if MC wasn’t so kind? 

With a level head, you might be able to scrounge around his torture room for a little bit. Maybe he has a needle with some knockout liquid hanging around for “difficult” catches. Maybe you just wait around behind the door until he walks in and smash him on the head as hard as you can and knock his ass out. Either way, he’s got plenty of restraints, and now he’s the one cuffed to a rusty pole. The look on his dumb face when he comes to is priceless. 

You’re not making the same mistakes he did. He’s triple tied to that thing. You know he’s strong, and you’re playing on his home field. You’ve got to be prepared for everything. At least long enough to get upstairs and find help or call the police. Right? Right? 

But what if you don’t?

What if, after he comes to and is sputtering and howling and hissing things at you in German that would make Lindemann blush, you decide not to go for help? He’s mad. He’s oh so very mad. He does not like this, not one bit. But he’s panicking beyond what you’d expect, even for a serial killer who’s been two-timed by his own victim. There’s something else in those dilated eyes. Something you’ve become very acutely familiar with over the last few days. You can still smell it lingering on you the same way it’s staining his shirt now. 

Fear. He’s afraid. And not of death or capture. 

I mean, he very well might be terrified of those things, but whatever it is he’s feeling right now is far overshadowing that. His face is red, and you can practically see the veins in his neck popping in rhythm with his thrumming heartbeat. He’s sweating extensively, and while that’s not uncommon for him, there’s not that macabre jolly smile plastered across his face. He’s baring his teeth and snapping at you like a feral hound, swearing to end your miserable life in a manner that would make the ghosts of his past shudder in horror for you. 

You don’t put it past him to snap these ropes any second and wrap his hands so tightly around your neck that your eyes pop like overinflated balloons. Even if the cops show up and try to escort you to safety, there’s an unspoken darkness in his glare, something that promises pain in your future even if they manage to subdue him. A promise that you can’t guarantee yourself that he can’t keep.

It strikes you that you know nothing about this man.

Surely someone out there knows about this. Someone knows about him and his little hobby. Monsters run in packs and even if you can’t see them, you know they must be there. Best case scenario, they can’t have him spilling their secrets so they find a way to end his life before the police can. Worst case scenario?  Worst case, they come for you. 

You’ve seen enough Hollywood horror movies to know just how wrong it can go if justice is left to the authorities. You haven’t seen much of it, but this looks like a pretty nice house. If he has money, he can just buy his way out. Who is to say that he doesn’t already have a deal with the cops? Kidnapping people is risky business, especially when folks begin to notice that you’re gone. Surely he has some safety net? 

What if he’s part of a network of psychopaths? There’s been enough late-night conspiracy youtube binges in your existence to know that shit like that is perfectly plausible. What if he’s just one of many? What if they have the pull to see him set free even after you’ve gone through the proper avenues to get him locked away? What if, one night, when you think he’s rotting in a 6 x 6 cement cell miles away from you, you wake up back here in this basement with even more Strades with different names and faces but each one shares the desire to see you ripped apart at the seams and devoured?

No. HELL no. You’re not going to be the cliche victim. He can bark and screech at you until his throat is sore and his gums bleed, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that you have this monster on a leash, and you’re not about to hand that leash over to someone else. 

How many people has he killed? How many have met their end in this godless basement? How many unsuspecting people has he dragged here only to take them apart piece by piece until their eyes glaze and their final breath moistens his cheek as he watches the light in their eyes extinguish? Do you even want to know? Would it make you feel better or worse to know that, at least for now, you’ve narrowly escaped such a fate? 

You have to know. 

His screaming turns fearful as you ascend the stairs. Again, not for fear of being caught, but because he already has been. It’s so odd to hear the phrase “Don’t leave me here!” from his quivering chest when he’s apparently in the place he values most, and there’s a sick sense of catharsis that settles in your gut as you listen to him begin to whimper and whine. You don’t let yourself dwell on it but you do slam the door behind you loudly enough that he will be forced to acknowledge that his pathetic pleas mean nothing to you. 

His house is painfully average, at least for someone like him. He’s even got portraits up with what must be friends or family or someone that cares enough to pose for a cheesy photo with him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say an upstanding, if a little tacky, upper-middle class man lives here. The furniture is unremarkable and well cared for but lived in enough to not raise suspicion. His kitchen is filled with expensive appliances that might as well be fresh out of the box. His fridge, as expected, is filled with beer and various quick meals. Not much of a cook, you guess.

The car sitting in the garage costs in the six digit range and looks like it’s the most beloved thing in the entire area. It reeks of Armor All and disinfectant, and you’re willing to bet that if he was so inclined, he could put it on a showroom floor right now. He’s got tools and cables of all sorts thrown about, but not the kind you’ve gotten so used to. Maybe he actually does use them for their intended purpose sometimes. 

As you walk the length of his home, you notice a distinct lack of screaming. You can’t hear anything, not even a peep from the basement, and you are very certain he’s crying up a storm down there. Interesting. He’s go this place sound proofed. You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it’s good information to have regardless. 

After you’ve sated your curiosity by observing the dragon’s den, you make your way to the upper level. He’s probably not foolish enough to leave any sort of evidence behind where friends and neighbors can see it, so whatever it is you’re looking for is going to be somewhere a little bit more personal. Perhaps like a bedroom? 

Bingo. 

His bedroom, much like the rest of his house, looks about what you’d expect. King sized bed, wooden dresser with a TV and player on top, and a desk beneath the window. Sliding closet doors with all manner of free range dad apparel inside, and honestly, it’s the closest you’ve been to laughing since you got here. He would wear cargo shorts and plaid, wouldn’t he? A scrounge through the drawers of his dresser and closet reveal nothing remarkable, but you’re willing to bet your injured thigh that there’s something special in the desk. 

Just like you’d expect, the desk is locked, but you’d noticed a pair of keys sitting willy-nilly out in the living room and you’d picked them up. About 7 key changes later and the desk pops open for you like a cheap whore. He really isn’t too bright, is he? Or maybe he just wasn’t expecting this to ever be a problem. Either way, you’re grateful he’s a moron. 

Inside the drawer seems to be loads of DVDs, unmarked except for dates. It feels like you’re the unprepared cop in a serial killer movie as you look down at them. You don’t need to watch them to know what they are, but you’re going to anyway. You have to know. You need to know just who you’re dealing with here. 

You pick one at random and pop it into the DVD player and the scene that greets you seems all too familiar. A hunched figure, bloodied and tied to the pole you’d become so intimate with over the last week. This person was in much worse shape than you, however. You could see shadows moving off screen and the camera fuzzes and refocuses repeatedly as what you assume is Strade messes with the controls. Not long after, he emerges, practically skipping into frame. Even though most of his face is concealed behind a hideous bandana, you can tell he’s smiling. It reaches his eyes. 

He says what appears to be a rehearsed greeting and you’re left wondering just how crazy is he? Is he talking to his future self? You can see him making these videos to relive his sick, sadistic fantasies but talking to himself like an absolute lunatic is just a little disconcerting. However, you also acknowledge that the only reason you’ve even thinking about this is to distract yourself from the fact that you’re watching a homemade snuff film that you almost starred in yourself. 

And then he begins. 

Despite the visceral horror on display before you, the urge to vomit never comes. You watch, blank faced, as this poor soul is faced with every horror a human mind can conceive. It goes on for long. Too long. And Strade never stops talking. 

The realization sets in that’s because he’s not the only one watching. 

He’s not talking to himself. He’s responding. This wasn’t for him. This was for them. 

If you had any emotional energy to give, surely you’d be absolutely horrified, but you don’t and you can’t. You’re not even surprised. Someone like Strade, that bubbly personality and 1,000 watt smile, of course he’d find a way to utilize his talents. He’d found a market. He had a hobby and he made money from it. ‘Love your job and you’ll never work a day in your life.’ and you are just so willing to bet he loves his fucking job. 

You let the video keep playing as you sit up from his bed and leave the room. You make your way down the stairs, back to the living room, and then back to the basement door. You open it and immediately are bombarded with the sounds of his screaming and hateful vitriol. It doesn’t phase you. You’re not sure anything will ever again. 

Calmly, you walk into the room and stare at him. He doesn’t cease his incessant threats until he realizes you’re waiting for him to finish so that you can speak. He finally silences himself, though he continues to rip and tear at the ropes holding him hostage as you tell him you found his little home video collection. 

“Let me out.” He demands, and you realize he doesn’t quite understand that he’s not the one in control anymore. Of course a dog without a tangible leash will continue to run wild. You needed to drive the point home. 

You turn your back to him and begin to ruffle through his various cabinets, searching around the nooks and crannies for something that will help him understand just what position he’s found himself in. You make a very interesting discovery next to his med kit. A collar. A literal collar. 

Poetic justice. 

It’s thick and burdensome and more than a little hideous. It’s definitely homemade, because not even the most fucked of BDSM sites are going to offer something like this. It’s accompanied by a small remote with a large red button and not much else. You push the button and yelp in pain, the collar clattering to the floor as it slips from your fingers. It shocked you. It was so very painful, but you’re smiling. 

You retrieve it from where it fell and pop it open, observing it curiously. Strade watches you through wide eyes and sniveling, trembling lips. The look on his face is a dead giveaway that you’ve found something you really shouldn’t have. The toothy grin you flash him shows him that you understand that. 

Without a word, you approach him, holding the open collar in your sweating palm. His struggles begin anew and before long he’s practically yanking his arms out at the sockets trying to get away from you and your newfound toy. He’s throwing his weight around and doing whatever he can with his limited movements to make damn sure you can’t get that terrible thing around his neck, but it’s all in vain because energy is finite and he’s been expending a lot of it over the last hour. 

He’s breathing heavy and you could swear he’s begging between heaves as you clap the collar around his thick neck. His flesh bulges from the side and you’re fairly certain it was made for someone much less burly than himself in mind. You get the odd urge to adjust it on him like a necklace but he’s still dangerous, even caged. You feel weirdly... proud.

“Stop-! you don’t know what you’re doing!” He hiccups, and as he pulls his head upward, you can see he is indeed crying. “Please! Don’t!” 

You’ve never thought of yourself as particularly sadistic, at least in that sense, but some ghostly force pushes your thumb down on that big red button. Watching his eyes go wide and his body convulse and seize fills you with a sense of sheer euphoria that can’t properly be conveyed. The utterly satisfying clang of his head hitting the pole at mach 5 as he shakes and bumbles almost humorously while the collar sends x amount of volts through his body makes you giggle. 

When you finally pull your thumb off the button, he’s still shaking from the residual shock, drool and mucus bubbling from his mouth and nose and sloping down onto his chin. He looks defeated; utterly pathetic. Is this how you looked to him all those times he stood over you grinning as he gifted you pain the likes of which had been unthinkable to you before you met him? The desire to push down again is overwhelming but you’re determined for him to understand there’s a point to this misery. 

There’s a thousand thoughts going through your mind right now faster than you can comprehend them all, but they all have the same general principal. This man is a murderer. This man is a rapist. This man is contained. This man is afraid. This man is at your mercy. 

And unfortunately for him, you just ran out. 

‘How many’ you ask, despite already knowing. If the videos upstairs are any indication, there’s more than he can probably count. More names and faces than he can practically remember and they’re dead because of him. He looks up at you through wet lashes with a trembling lip, already caught on to the fact that there is no correct answer. Your thumb hovers over that seductive red button and he’s quick to spit out whatever he can regardless. 

“I don’t know! I don’t!” 

You don’t doubt that he’s being honest, but it sickens you none he less. You press that button for half a second and he jolts up off the floor as much as his restraints will allow. When he comes to, his eyes can barely focus in on you and when his slumps over, you can see the burns from the collar already settling in on his tan skin. You’re not sure how to turn down the voltage or how lethal it is, but you don’t really care at the moment. If he dies, he dies. You’ll deal with the complications of that later. 

You could sit here all day and grill him, literally and figuratively, about his track record of atrocities, but it won’t bring you any peace. You’re not sure that peace is something that you’ll ever feel again, all things considered. Meeting the monsters that dwell in the dark is drastically different than simply acknowledging that they exist, and through some twist of fate, you’ve been given the opportunity to show this particular monster that he’s no longer at the top of the food chain. There’s so much you could do, so many things you want to do, and it’s at that moment you realize you’ve spent too long staring into the abyss to try and claw your way out. 

You’re being offered the chance they never were. You’re holding the controls now. He’s already crying and you’ve barely touched him, barely done anything besides shock him a little. You remember that feeling well. If you recall, you were already crying before he put that knife to your thigh on your first day with him. 

Truth is, you decided the second he fell unconscious what you were going to do. 

Maybe a revenge like this isn’t yours to take, but you’re taking it regardless. For yourself, and for every sorry sap that’s met their end in his cement hellhole. They died for you to have this opportunity, and you’d like to think that maybe they’re there with you in this moment. Even if you never knew them, you feel a strange kinship with them. After all, it was almost you. 

He continues to babble underneath his breath, various pleas for mercy or sympathy or any form of compassion you can muster from your still aching body, and though you desperately wish you did, you can’t find any. You’re certain when you look in the mirror next, it won’t be your own eyes looking back at you anymore, but something closer to his. Maybe you did die in this basement, because whoever you were before you met him is long gone and has been replaced with something so much more empty. 

You explain to him, as gently as you can, that it’s your turn now, and his resistance will only make this harder. You don’t delight in seeing him in pain (whether or not that’s a lie has yet to be determined) but it’s a necessary evil for all he’s done. You don’t believe his life is yours to take, but you’d be as terrible as him if you let him loose on the world again. You can’t trust anyone but yourself, and since this situation is so delicate, you need a bit more time to think on it. 

He doesn’t seem to understand, at least until you’re binding his legs and securing his head snuggly to the pole. Maybe it’s overkill considering the man looks like he belongs in a shibari magazine right now, but there’s no precautions you can’t take. You can’t have him escaping. It’s far too soon, and you have such wonderful things planned. 

Were you a kinder soul, maybe you would put him to sleep because it’s so apparent he’s terrified. Being bound like this has really brought out his inner little bitch, and the way he’s looking, he’s going to piss himself. But its a price it’s only fair that he pay, all things considered. You don’t know what time it is or even where you are, but you know you’ll return to him when you’ve been rejuvenated, eager and ready to begin on him. You’re only a few steps toward the door when he begins shouting, words barely discernible between his emphatic weeping and sobbing hiccups. 

“D-don’t leave me here in the dark! Let me go, let me out! You can’t! You can’t leave me here like this!”  You grin softly, turning slowly to face him, and tell him that you can and you will. You ask what he’s so afraid of, but you don’t wait to hear the answer as you step through the frame and shut the door behind you, leaving him to rot in his personal dungeon. It’s only been an hour and he’s already so pliable. You wonder what you can make him do when you really make it hurt. Psychology says it takes 7 years to brainwash someone and coerce them into absolute compliance, but you’re willing to bet you can have it done in a few months. 

You already know one of his fears, and are very clearly not ashamed to exploit it. How many else does he have, you might wonder, already planning tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe you were sicker in the head than you thought. Maybe Strade just brought out the worst in you, stripped away all that made you human and left you with raw hurt and despair. 

It’s tempting. To give in. To sit and massage your aching body while listening to his screams as they echo through the soundproofed basement. But you’re tired, and you haven’t slept in a bed in over a week. His looked awfully nice. Maybe after that, you’d wash the dried blood from your battered body, order some food, and appreciate the niceties that civilized life had to offer. Niceties you took for granted. 

After that?  Well, after that you had a new pet to train.