#ren hana x reader

[mothwingwritings]

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

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

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

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

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Ren/Fox🦊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Lawrence🌿

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Strade🔪

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

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

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

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

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

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Celia👩‍💼

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Derek🦂

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

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

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

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

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

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Mason🐻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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#boyfriend to death x reader #btd x reader #boyfriend to death x y/n #btd x y/n #ren hana x reader #ren hana x y/n #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence oleander x y/n #strade x reader #strade x y/n #btd strade x reader #ren btd x reader #lawrence btd x reader #tpof x reader #tpof x y/n #celia lede x reader #derek goffard x reader #celia lede x y/n #derek goffard x y/n #mason heiral x reader #mason heiral x y/n #btd headcanons #boyfriend to death headcanons #tpof headcanons #the price of flesh headcanons #ykmet strade x reader #dark fic #yandere x reader #mothwingswritings #I s2g I don't know what it is but I feel like Mason's parts are always the longest lul

[multi-fandom-imagine]

【 “I’m not letting you go until you’ve either drenched the sheets, or passed out.” 】

↳ Overlord!Husk ✦ Lucifer Morningstar ✦ Vox ✦ Viktor Vasko ✦ Simon 'Ghost' Riley ✦ John Price ✦ Ren Hana ✦ Joel Miller ✦ Nanami Kento ✦ Ryomen Sukuna ✦ Toji Fushiguro ✦ Gojo Satoru

#Overlord!Husk #Overlord!Husk x reader #husk x reader #Lucifer Morningstar #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #Viktor Vasko #viktor vasko x reader #vox #vox x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #john price #john price x reader #ren hana #ren hana x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #Nanami Kento #nanami kento x reader #smut #Ryomen Sukuna #sukuna x reader #Toji Fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #Gojo Satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #hazbin hotel #lackadaisy

[after-witch]

Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Damn Your Eyes [Chapter One: The Last Day] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: Years ago, you were the captive of a serial killer named Strade. And you weren't the only one he kept. After Strade was killed by one of his victims, you ran away--and now your past is finally catching up with you. Chapter one is set during Boyfriend to Death.

Word count: 6352

Chapter notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, past noncon, graphic violence, descriptions of blood, violence and gore, descriptions of death (not reader)

AO3 LINK

She was crying again. Well, no wonder. There were holes in her feet, dotting the top of her thighs. Blood had dribbled down from the gored holes in her flesh like little streams, then dried out. 

The thin, wavy dried out trickles made you think, abruptly, of unfettered period blood, then of Carrie by Stephen King. The scene in the shower, where she gets her period and freaks out. The other girls threw tampons and sticky pads at her and shrieked, chanting, bonded by a morbid commiseration of the entrance to so-called womanhood: Plug it up! Plug it up! Plug it up!

Plug it up, you thought.

But she couldn’t, even if she wanted to. Her hands were bound behind her. Did he tie them back like that so that she couldn’t try to hurt him, or because it gave him easier access to her flesh? Maybe a bit of both.

She looked uglier when she cried. Snot bubbled out of her nose and joined a dried streak of blood that went from her nose down to her chin. Her nose was probably broken, hence the blood; the flesh of it was black and blue and an awful shade of green.

One part of you longed to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and hold it to the bruised, swollen flesh. Hush her cries. Give her an ounce of humanity that might carry her for another few hours, the way Ren once did to you. 

Another part of you, the new you forged under Strade’s knife (and boots and hammers and power drill) wished she’d just die already, so you wouldn’t have to hear her cry or be standing here obediently, waiting for Strade to come back down. You were probably going to have to participate in this next stream–why else would he call you down in the middle of one of his “projects”? 

Unless he was lonely. But even so, he could always kill two birds with one stone. You, here to give him company; and you, here to entertain his horrid audience. And himself, above all. Himself, always.

 The basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open and you heard his heavy bootsteps–thump, thump, thump–before he called out jovially.

“Are you still there, Liebling? You didn’t run off, did you?” 

As if you were stupid enough to do that. You were many things now. Stressed. Afraid. Desperate. Tired. More selfish. Maybe a little bit masochistic, a trick of your brain to keep you from totally losing your mind as you were tortured. All these things and more besides, but stupid was not one of them. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” You called back, lightening your tone. It was important not to sound too scared. Strade wanted you scared, yes, but he didn’t want you to be some obedient, squeaky little mouse. That was too boring. It was best to act as normally as you could, considering the circumstances. That seemed to please him more, at least on most days. Some days nothing you did was right and you went to bed with a swollen eye and broken fingers, eased by frozen peas that Ren snuck you from the kitchen before he went to sleep. 

You’re not the only one who noticed him coming down. The woman in front of you began to tremble and sob more violently, pulling at her bound wrists. It wouldn’t do any good. It never did. How long did she have to live? How long did any of you in this house have to live? 

By the time Strade made it down the stairs, her cries were practically at a fever-pitch. You didn’t want to look to see what he’d run off to fetch, but he didn’t give you a choice.

He called your name. “Come here, darling, I need your help with this.” And oh, you kept your eyes downcast until all you could see was his boots. But then it was time to look up, and you did, and no matter how many times you witnessed him preparing to torture another person, it still made your stomach roil.

He’d brought down a p[ot of boiling water, which he carefully held by the handle with both hands. Tucked underneath his armpit was the bag of frozen peas. The bag, you thought, because for as long as you’d been here, no one ever cooked them. They got passed around between you and Ren under cover of night.

Here they were, in the light of day. You suspect you wouldn’t want to re-use them after this. 

“Be my Lamm and take the peas, won’t you?” The sensible part of you eyed him warily; it wouldn’t be below him to toss the pot of boiling water at you while you reached for them, just to fuck with you. But you didn’t disobey him, either. You carefully leaned over and slid the bag from underneath his armpit, and held it in your hand.

He smiled. Grinned, really, which was a bad sign for the sobbing woman tied to the pole. His good moods and bad moods were both equally shitty, but in your unfortunately well-experienced opinion, it was his good moods that produced the most painful scenarios.

“Now!” He crouched down in front of the crying woman and grabbed her chin. She shrieked and tried to jerk her face away, but he held her tight. “I’m sure your wounds are sore, aren’t they?” She sobbed out something–meaningless pleading that you’d long since lost the ability to discern–and he tsked.

“Oh, poor thing. I know just what might help!” He snapped his fingers and looked back at you. “My lovely friend here will give you some ice to help you feel better. Won’t you?” He grinned wider and you nodded, feeling both scared and numb in a confusingly equal measure, as you crouched down next to him.

She yelped when you placed the frozen bag on a group of puncture wounds on her thigh, but you held it fast. It probably hurt more than it soothed. An icy bag right up against wounded skin didn’t sound pleasant. But maybe it would numb it a little. That might be better than nothing. 

“Perfect! Now…” He reached over and picked up the steaming pot of water, still bubbling from its boil on the stove. “Hold still, my Lamm… wouldn’t want to splash you.” 

It was so strange, the way that your time with Strade had made it possible for you to actually keep your hand there, despite the fact that you knew he was about to pour boiling water on the skin of this poor woman. Pour it right where it would surely splash on you a little, if not a lot. Probably a lot. Two birds, one stone, and all that.

It didn’t matter if it was strange. Your fingers flexed and your muscles tensed as you saw him turn the pot over slowly, and steaming water came flying down, pouring over the woman’s wounds.

She screamed. It was loud. It hurt your ears. The irritation of it distracted you from seeing Strade move the pot around so that the water trailed over the frozen peas–and your hand keeping it pressed against her–as he covered her thigh in the water.

“Fuck!” You said, biting your cheek hard. Your fingers danced on the bag but you didn’t dare pull away. You could see your own skin turning a shade of red. Her thighs had taken the brunt of it, though. There were even blisters forming on her skin already as she sobbed and cried and begged for someone, anyone, to help her.

You were someone.  You were anyone.

You couldn’t help her.

“Language, liebchen,” Strade said, teasingly. You mumbled out an apology, although you doubt he actually cared. 

He sighed when the pot was emptied, and tossed it on the floor.

“I don’t know… I just don’t think it’s enough. Do you?” He grasped your burned hand and you couldn’t stifle the sound of yelping pain as he gripped it hard. Your skin would blister too–it was already peeling a little. 

“What…whatever you think is best,” you stammered. 

“That’s right,” he said, grinning. He gave your hand a squeeze and you groaned. “I think I’ll work a little more on this project myself before dinner.” He let your fingers go, and you cradled your hand against your chest. “Have Ren take care of that. Come back down when it’s wrapped up.” his free hand grabbed the chin of the sobbing, bleeding, blistered woman again. “I think we’ll make a movie, and I need my prettiest co-star to help me out.”

“Of course.” You gave her one half-pitiful glance–the way her frightened, bloodshot eyes darted to you with a mixture of anger and pity made you want to hurl–and went up the stairs.

By the time you’d made it to the top, you already heard Strade pulling out his video equipment.

—

“It… doesn’t look too bad,” Ren said quietly. He held your hand underneath the sink, letting the cold water soothe your burn. But every time your hand trembled and the stream went just out of reach, it burned again, and you winced.

“Most of it hit her thigh,” you whispered. Though you didn’t need to, since both of you were well aware that Strade was busy in the basement. Old habits die hard, however. “She got it worse.”

Ren hummed. “They usually do.” He told you to keep your hand in place while he fumbled in the cabinet under the sink, looking for supplies. “I don’t know if he has–oh!” His ears twitched and perked up as he found what he’d been looking for.

It was a tube of burn relief ointment. He flipped it over and read the back, mumbling all the while. “It’s expired but…”

You smiled, just a little, and finished his sentence for him.

“Better than nothing, right?”

Ren smiled, and you caught sight of his tail curling behind him as he turned off the sink and told you to sit down on the toilet so she could wrap you up.

Was it wrong that some of the most pleasant moments in this house, if you could call them pleasant, were with Ren? Especially quiet moments like this, where he took care of you, or you took care of him. You were both well acquainted with fixing up the results of your time with Strade by now. 

He’d cleaned out deep cuts on your back, and you’d iced and splinted his broken toes. He let you curl up in his nest of a bed after a particularly awful night of torture, and you let him slide under your covers when he’d had an nightmare about the last time Strade made him kill someone.

It was transactional in some ways, you supposed. But when you saw his ears perk up or his tail swoosh or the way his eyes seemed to light with something genuine behind them while you talked with him, you realized it wasn’t all practical. It couldn’t be. Not when you were in this together.

Ren made quick work of bandaging your hand. The cream was smoothed over the reddened, flaking parts of your skin and he wrapped your hand up with a bandage. It hurt, still, but nothing to write home about. Hah! As if you’d ever be allowed to write home.

Hell, if by some miracle  you could write home, how would you even word the letter? 

“Dear mom and dad, last night my captor-who-also-fucks me made me keep my hand on a table while he hammered nails underneath my fingernails and asked me which one hurt the most. P.S. The milk in the fridge is expired and he’s threatening to make me or Ren drink it because of the waste.”

The thought made you snort. Ren looked up from his spot on the floor, where he’d taken to impromptu digging through the cabinet to look for some undisclosed item. 

“What’s funny?”

You mulled it over. Sometimes, you didn’t like to tell Ren what you were thinking. You trusted him, to an extent. You liked him, to an extent. You were friends, to an extent. How far did that extent go? It depended. 

He was here first, and sometimes, the tension between the two of you was too taut and fraught to ignore. There was always that underlying worry, an electric buzz you couldn’t turn off all the way: what if Strade decided he didn’t want two captives? Or what if he felt two was his limit, and he wanted to bring someone new in?

Which one of you would get the ax–literally?

But this was maybe not the type of thing that Ren might murmur to Strade in a moment of weakness. It was harmless, wasn’t it, to make a joke about writing home?

“I was just imagining what I might write home in a letter to my parents.” You flexed your bandaged hand. “I mean, if we were allowed to write home.”

“Like from a summer camp?” Ren asked. He pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them. 

“I guess,” you replied, smiling a little. “Although this would be one…” Fucked up, disgusting, hellish– “Specialty summer camp.”

Ren snorted a little. “Definitely not like the ones in movies.”

“Maybe horror movies,” you added with a grin. One of your front teeth–not from the center two, thank hell–was missing now, so you rarely grinned. But it felt different when it was just you and Ren alone. It was okay to let him see those imperfections, because he had them too. Maybe not missing teeth, but…

“Sleepaway Camp!” He blurted. “Or Friday the 13th…” 

You started to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you once saw a screening of the first Friday the 13th at a summer camp, when an all-too-familiar sound came wafting up from the cracked open basement door.

“Liebling! It doesn’t take that long to bandage a little burn! I hope I don't have to come get you.”

Ren’s tail went straight up at the sound of Strade’s voice. The sing-song nature of his words did not hide the danger in them. If you had a tail, yours would be standing stock straight too. But your body had to make do with your muscles tensing and your bowels clenching hard.

“I have to go,” you murmured, hopping off the toilet seat. 

You paused in the doorway. Ren had his knees hugged to his chest, his ears flat against his head. No doubt he was wondering if Strade would call him down, too. Or if he’d be pissed off about something and take it out on Ren later.

“Thanks for patching me up, Ren.” His ears twitched, and he glanced up at you. “Really, I mean it.” You smiled–grinned, showing off one of your missing teeth. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

His tail relaxed a little and he smiled back, an almost puppy-like grin crossing his expression for a moment, and it was enough to give you some vague emotional relief as you left the bathroom before Strade was forced to come up the stairs and retrieve you. 

–

She wouldn’t last another day. That much was clear. Her blood was everywhere now. On the floor. Smeared on her skin. On Strade’s hands–on yours.

Of course he’d made you participate. You were his lovely assistant, after all. Although he always said Ren was better at the work, when it came down to it. You were too prone to trembling and hesitation. To say nothing of your occasional habit of vomiting at the sight of anything more than blood–guts, in particular, were your weakness. 

Hers, too, by the way she quivered at the sight of the large hunting knife Strade twirled in his hands.

“I think this has gone on long enough. Don’t you, Schatz?” He looked back at you with a thoughtful smile. “Shall we end it?”

Without thinking much, you nodded. Yes, it had gone on long enough. Yes, you wanted her to just die already. Yes, you wanted to go over to the sink and scrub your hands until they were pruney and wrinkled and there was no trace of her visceral fluids on your skin.

“Go on,” he told you, gesturing at the trembling woman. Covered in cuts and gouges and burns. Where there had been dried blood earlier today, there were now smears of fresh gore. From Strade’s boots and the knife. Strade had even taken a blow torch to the burns caused by the boiling water, making them go from peeling and red to a series of gouged, pus-like craters in her flesh.

Cold seeped into your socks from the floor as you walked over to her. She regarded you with dull, dying eyes. She opened her mouth, maybe to say something, but whatever word she might have come up with wouldn’t come. Her swollen, bruised lip trembled as blood dribbled out of it. 

One of the handcuff keys was taped to the back of the poll. Strade always liked to keep extras around, in case he lost the original but still wanted to uncuff someone. He usually didn’t uncuff people unless they were being bound in some other way (usually not a good sign) or he was just about finished with them (definitely a bad sign); and in this case, you knew she was being released only to make killing her a little more fun.

Her hands flopped forward as soon as the cuffs were undone. There was a brief moment where you saw her regard her wrists, all reddened and cut from where the metal handcuffs dug into them. 

But the moment was over as soon as Strade stepped forward and pulled her close with a decisive yank of her hair. She yelped–you were surprised she had the yelp in her, her voice should have been shot from all the screaming–and he twisted her hair tight to keep her still.

“It’s been fun, but it’s time to go now. Don’t take this personally, hm? Or do, actually, it might make you feel better.”

She didn’t have time to respond. He rarely wanted them to say anything, you thought. It was just part of his internal script, a set of syllables that gave him extra pleasure as he snuffed out someone’s internal light. 

He stuck the hunting knife into her gut and twisted. She didn’t scream. She barely shouted. The sound, instead, was one of strangled horror. Like she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. He twisted again, and she grunted and gasped, a sound that was almost like a deep, gaping hiccup.

“Shh,” he murmured, a sick grin splitting his face. His eyes darted over her face, and you got a front-row view of how his expression was gleefully illuminated by the sight of her own life fading away. He enjoyed it so much, he even let go of the knife handle so that he could grasp her face with both hands and keep her dying gaze in his sights.

Who was she? What had she been, before the basement? Was she thinking about her friends, her family? Did she have children that were going to be left behind? Maybe she was in college, maybe she’d been studying for exams that would never happen. There would be uneaten prepared lunches in her fridge, a bookmark that would never move past a certain page. 

Her hands went tremblingly to the handle of the knife sticking out of her. She held the handle tenderly with bruised, bloody hands. Didn’t Strade see it? No, he was too focused on her face. But he didn’t even see the way her expression shifted. 

No, he saw it. But maybe he didn’t know what it meant, because he’d never been on the other end. The way she went from looking confused and horrified to determined. 

She didn’t act right away. 

You could have said something. You could have called out a warning. 

But instead you watched as the dying woman yanked the knife out of her gut, viscera and blood coming out with it, and stabbed it right into Strade’s neck.

He gasped now. A gaping, strangled sound. His hands went instinctively to his neck and it took him a few slow, trembling tries to pull it out. You saw the blood arch and spurt–an artery–and he fell to his knees.

The woman stepped away with what must have been her last ounce of energy. She had only enough life left in her to turn to you and smile–she was missing teeth, too–before she collapsed on the ground. She was still alive, but her shock would come soon after.

It wasn’t her you were watching, anyway. It was Strade.

His eyes darted to and fro until they landed on you. He had his hand pressed against the wound now, but it wasn’t doing much good. He would need a proper compress… an ambulance… surgery of some kind. 

You don’t know why you called him. To help Strade? To help you? 

“Ren.”

Not loud enough.

“Ren.”

Still not loud enough.

“Ren!” 

Before you knew it,  you were simply screaming his name, filling the basement with a different pitch of scream than it was used to. Your own voice was barely recognizable.

The basement door slammed open and you heard frantic footsteps pounding down the stairs. You saw Ren, only a blur of orange in your shock, take in the scene. His own mouth slowly gaped open, but unlike Strade and the unfortunate woman on the floor and your own panting lips, no sound came out.

Ren said your name. You think it was Ren, because Strade was surely in no position to talk. It shook you out of your stupor and you ran to him, clinging to his arm, crying fitfully. He wrapped one arm around you and the two of you stood, together, watching Strade bleed.

“What do we do?” The inside of your elbow pressed hard against Ren’s back as you held him. You wanted to snuggle, like the way you did on good nights. You wanted him to make it all go away. 

Maybe he sensed this. Because while the two of you had clung together in so many occasions, this time, he stood up taller. He held you tighter. And then he assessed the situation.

Ren watched Strade quietly for a long moment. Strade gazed up at him–at you, too, but mostly Ren–with wide-eyed helplessness. The look didn’t suit him at all. He seemed to know it. 

“Help me,” Strade managed. It almost didn’t feel like speech. Maybe the knife had grazed his vocal chords. 

Neither of you moved at first. There was a long moment in which either of you could have sprung into action; could have ran to the supply cabinet and grabbed thick gauze to press against the wound, while the other could have bounded up the stairs to call an ambulance.

But you didn’t. And Ren didn’t. 

And then Ren looked at you, and took a step backward. He pulled you with him, and you went willingly, taking another step, and another, until the two of you were standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“You…” Strade gurgled out the word, and blood came bubbling out in between the fingers pressed against his neck with it. “You…”

He didn’t get to finish. His eyes widened and you saw the light leave them before he collapsed on the floor. 

For the first time since you’d been brought here, the basement was truly silent. 

Strade was dead.

Neither of you moved for a while. And then you felt a hoarse sob coming on. Relief, terror, and shock coursed through you, fighting for the surface in a way that could only result in tears. 

Ren regarded you with an unreadable expression and slowly removed his arm from your shoulder. You whimpered–don’t leave me, you wanted to say–and he smiled, a soft, little thing. 

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to make sure he’s dead.”

Oh. That was a good idea. But what if he wasn’t? What if Strade got to his feet and oh, the two of you would be in for it. He’d probably kill both of you–or at least you–and it would be slow and awful and you’d beg, beg, for death.

“Ren,” you said, almost stammering, swallowing a thick lump in your throat.

He turned back towards you, curious.

You pointed to the table of tools at Strade’s disposal. “Take something. Just in case.”

Ren stared at the weapons that had been used to kill countless people. At the blades and torches and nails that had been used to hurt him, and you. Then he grabbed a heavy hammer and slowly approached the bleeding corpse (please let it be a corpse) of Strade.

Strade didn’t move as Ren approached him. Or when Ren knelt down, hammer at the ready. Or when Ren’s fingers slowly reached out and pressed against his neck, his wrist. 

“No pulse,” said Ren.

Ren set the hammer down and used both hands to shove Strade’s body until it was fully on his back. His eyes, dull and dead, stared up at the ceiling without seeing anything.

He was dead. Truly dead. 

Really most sincerely dead, your thoughts echoed in a half-mimic of the Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.

You barely registered Ren digging around in Strade’s pocket before he returned to you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he began to lead you upstairs.

“Let’s not stay down here,” he said. He gave Strade’s corpse one last look before staring ahead at the basement door. How many times had the two of you gone up and down these stairs at Strade’s whim? It always meant you would get hurt, or you would help Strade hurt others. It was never willing, going up these stairs. Never a choice.

And now the two of you were going up them together, Ren leading you, of your own free will.

Free will! What a concept. One you thought you’d lost forever. And yet here it is, given by the hands of a woman whose last days were filled with unnecessary, unfair agony. You wish you knew her name, so you could thank her properly.

Ren shut the basement door. It sounded louder than it ever had before. Or was it because the house was so quiet now? 

“Come here,” Ren said. And you didn’t know why he said it–shock, confusion, uncertainty still reigned–until you saw what was in his hand. 

His collar. It was… off. But how and–

Ren held up the key he’d taken from Strade’s pocket and shook it back and forth, like a well-earned prize. That’s what it was, in some ways. 

You stepped towards Ren and turned around, breathing heavily at the thought of being truly free from the collar. Strade only took them off the pair of you when you were showering and, once you had learned to behave well enough, when you slept. But they always went back on first thing in the morning, and their threat was an ever-constant presence in your mind, just like the metal was ever-constant around your neck.

Ren’s fingers brushed the back of your shoulder. You heard him breathing just as heavily. For a moment, he didn’t do anything. Wasn’t he going to…?

“Ren?” You asked, voice quivering. The air felt suddenly too heavy, your collar weighing you down more than normal. There was an awful thought, then: What if he doesn’t take your collar off? What if Ren is… what if, what if…

But then you felt the pressure from him sticking the key into the back of the metal contraption, heard it twist, and felt cool relief on your neck as Ren lifted the collar away from your neck and set it down on the coffee table. 

Both hands went to your neck. The skin was sensitive, bruised. A few days ago, Strade had come into your room at night for a session of “fun,” which ended with you being choked into unconsciousness. You’d woken up to Ren splashing cold water on your face. “Thought I’d lost you,” he’d said. 

The bruises Strade gave you would fade away in time. At least the ones on the outside.

And Ren…

You turned around and gave him a fractured smile. You leaned in, and Ren leaned in, and you hugged each other tenderly. Not just because it was the nicest way to hug, but because Ren’s rib fracture was still healing, and your back hurt, and both of you were littered with scars and cuts and bumps and bruises.

After a while, Ren pulled away. “Let’s… sit down.” 

He sat down on the sofa, which was dotted with sprinkles of Ren’s orange fur; no matter how much you lint-rolled the furniture, you could never quite get all of it out. 

Well, that didn’t matter now. You’d never have to clean up this living room, or the kitchen, or the brain matter and blood stains in the basement, again. You could go home.

And Ren could go home. 

And the nightmare would be over.

For now, you sat, side by side, on a sofa that had never seemed more ordinary. The house had never seemed more ordinary. Its secrets were primarily down in the basement. The rest of the house was bland and boring by comparison. Unless you counted upstairs, as it was not unheard of for Strade to take his particular brand of “fun” into your respective rooms. 

And now? It was quiet. Still. There was no chance that Strade would come walking up the stairs. No chance that you’d be called down them to torture someone.

Certainly no chance that he’d call both of you down, which never ended well. He liked to see Ren hurt you, because it seemed to hurt Ren. But sometimes, sometimes, you thought… there was a glimmer of something in Ren’s eyes in those moments. 

Something that reminded you too much of pleasure to ignore. Just a spark of it, but that was enough, when you were bound to a table and he was clawing open your thighs at Strade’s behest.

“Ren?” You forced yourself to stop thinking like that. That was the past. This was now. No, more than that: this was the future. A future without Strade, without this house, without pain. 

Ren looked over at you, slowly. The realization of what had just happened, and what it meant, seemed to be catching up to him, too. “... Yeah?”

Your fingers scratched at some of Ren’s stray fur on the couch. Some of the orange fur had already started clinging to your bandage. 

“What do we do now?” A simple question for you to ask. Several plans rushed through your head but it was hard to make sense of them. What was the best course to take; which authorities did you appeal to, when there was a dead serial killer and one of his victims in the basement, but your hands were on the torture tools, yet the same tools had been used to hurt you? 

You swallowed hard, shaking your head, willing the dizzying thoughts to quiet down.  “Do we call the police first? Or… an ambulance? Or–or–” 

Ren gripped the hand that idly scratched the couch. He intertwined his fingers in yours, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were wide. And just a bit wild.

“We could stay here.”

Your heart thudded. Once, twice. A third time.

“What?” You shifted on the couch, facing Ren more clearly. “We… we can’t, it’s–”

Ren squeezed your hand, a little too hard–the burn–and you winced. He didn’t let up, but he didn’t know you were hurting, did he? It was all just a rush right now, confusing, scary.

“We can,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. His mouth broke into an almost childish grin as he continued. “Strade’s got a lot of money, we can use that to keep up the bills. Buy whatever we want. We won’t have to worry about anything!” His tail swished behind him, thumping into your side. 

When you didn’t respond–words weren’t coming–his grin deflated a little. “I’m… I’m a good roommate,” he said, ears flattening. “I’ll take care of you.” He squeezed even tighter now. “We’ll do everything together, and we don’t have to worry about Strade getting mad about it. We’ll watch movies or-or play games or whatever you want.” He swallowed and you watched his throat bob. “And I promise I won’t leave fur everywhere.”

“Ren–” It was your turn to give his hand a squeeze, and you took his other in your free hand and clasped them both. “I’m not worried about your fur.”

His ears perked up and his smile came back.

“It’s… we can’t stay here,” you said, voice wobbling but gaining more firmness as you went on. “We need to leave. We need to call the police.”

Ren’s ears twitched. He looked thoughtful, opening his mouth, and shutting it. He was just confused, that’s all. Like you were. He needed to be reminded that if Strade was gone, the both of you were free. You’d go home, and he’d go home, and you could call or text or email or something but…

“Don’t be stupid.” 

The firmness in Ren’s voice shook you a little. More than that, it made you worry. He frowned at the sight of your tense shoulders, the quirk in your mouth. “Think about it,” he said, gently saying your name. “Remember all the people who watch his videos? Don’t you know who’s in those chats?”

The reminder of the chatrooms came hurtling straight into your guts. The chat… the people there paid money to watch people suffer. Watch them die. How many times had they encouraged Strade to indulge in some fucked up torture? Hell, they’d asked him countless times to string you up, cut you open, pull out your guts while you were still alive. Strade had danced away the requests with a teasing lilt, but the threat was never gone.

Ren let go of your bandaged hand and gently cupped your cheek. He spoke slowly, almost sweetly. “They’re rich. Important. Mayors. Politicians. Doctors. Police.” 

The anguish your stomach began to stretch. Ren didn’t stop talking.

“They know both our faces. Do you know what they’ll do to us, if they find us?” 

Tears pricked, unwanted and unbidden, at your eyes. He was right. You couldn’t go to the police. You couldn’t go to the media. This could never get out. But that didn’t mean you had to stay here. More than that: you couldn’t stay here. 

It would be another type of collar, to find yourself stuck here with Ren. And the collar might not be electric, but it would be just as dangerous. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “No police.”

Ren grinned hopefully.

“But,” you continued. “We can’t stay here. I want to go home. And you–you get to go home now, too.” Ren had never talked much about his life before Strade, but surely he had friends. A family. An apartment or a house. A life. Just like you. 

“You want to leave–” His voice was thin and there was a fissure in it, ready to crack.

The hand on your cheek pressed harder, and you felt the thin press of his claws against your skin. Your eyes must have widened or perhaps you flinched, you don’t know, but Ren saw–and yanked away.

“S-Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to.”

No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was upset, he was scared, hell, you didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry or start belting out show tunes right now. 

Freedom was confusing as hell. 

“I know,” you said, slowly. “It’s okay.”

Ren stared down at the ground. Then he stood up and fished Strade’s keyring out of his pocket and set it down on the coffee table with a jingling rattle. 

“I’m going to get us some water. And maybe a snack. We’ll… we’ll talk about this more. We can talk about it, and not make a decision right away. Okay?” He fumbled with both his hands in front of him, looking like the meek young man you’d met that first night, when he cleaned your wounds and gave you water to drink. 

You stared at him, perhaps for too long.

“Okay, Ren, we’ll talk about it,” you lied. 

You watched him walk into the kitchen, where Strade would never saunter in for a case of beer again. You heard him open the cabinet for an empty glass, none of which would ever again find themselves dashed into tiny shards that could be ground into your skin for fun. 

And then you leaned forward, grabbed the keyring off the countertop, pulled out the key to the front door, and softly padded your way to the threshold that neither of you had been able to cross in ages.

Your heart thudded. Your stomach heaved. But you unlocked the door and bolted, socked feet aching on the concrete sidewalk.

Ren said your name after the third step you took beyond the door of Strade’s house of horrors.

You could have kept running. Maybe you should have.

But instead, you turned around, to look at Ren standing in the doorway. There were no glasses of water in his hand–you don’t remember registering the sound of the sink at all, in fact. It was just Ren, with his hands at his sides, looking at you with an expression that was equally pitiful, agonizing, and worrying.

He said your name again.

You felt hot tears squeeze out of your eyes as you shook your head, turned around, and ran for your life.

#yandere #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #afterwitch writes #/pets prologue done! dunno how many chapters this one will end up being.

[vetitiscripta]

some sfw and nsfw headcanons for tpof ren please🦊🙏🏻 instantly fell in love with your writing and craving the foxy dilf

oh anon you’re so sweet, i’m glad you like my writing! AND YOU MAY ABSOLUTELY HAVE DILF REN HEADCANONS I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR THAT MAN I AM BARKING LIKE A DOG

sfw

he lets you run your fingers over his scars, tracing them. if he’s feeling up to it, he’ll even tell you the story behind them

still a big anime fan so on his days off he likes to just relax with you and do anime marathons

since ren lives in different apartments, of course go with him when he moves locations. he found an apartment by the bunker to stay in while you were recovering. traveling while you have multiple open wounds seems like a hassle so he figured it would just be easier to get a place nearby

YOU ARE SO SPOILED!! anything you want, its yours. you once mentioned how you miss all the games you had and you woke up the next morning to just about every new gaming console under the tv, already plugged in and games loaded on them. sometimes you have to be careful with what you offhandedly mention wanting because he will get it for you (he just likes seeing you happy, he lives for your smile)

once you are trusted with being outside (something that took quite a while for you to earn), he will absolutely take you out and about in town just to A) show you off and B) take you on shopping trips. he 100% has a black card. ANYTHING YOU WANT, YOU GET! that sweater is $1500? sure, get one in every color. you like the glass elephant that is made purely of crystal? it can be a decorative piece on the dining table

despite how spoiled you are, you are not free from being punished. you don’t get punished as much anymore, but at the beginning of your relationship, you defied him, hoping that you could get away (either running away or by death, you didn’t care at that point). ren has been through his fair share of punishments, he’s told you such; he knows how to leave a memorable punishment to help you understand. he’s also not above bringing out the shock collar in case the punishments aren’t enough

but after every punishment, he always cleans you up and cuddles with you, stroking your hair as you cry into his chest. depending on how far in the relationship it is, he can feel bad for punishing you but he knows that it’s to help you behave and understand

before you’re trusted to be left alone in the apartments, he’ll bring you with him to the bunker when he’s streaming. the first time you realized where you were, you almost threw up from the pure panic that spread through you. ren cupped your face and kissed you to help calm you down, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find how absolutely terrified you were adorable. while he’s streaming you are left in the hands of rhino and kangaroo, who you have come to enjoy and consider friends (or at least as close to friends as you can get in your now abnormal life)

ren once considered getting you a pet to keep you company when you’re alone but he quickly discarded the idea due to how jealous he would be. you are his and your full attention should be on him. he might consider something super low maintenance like a goldfish (you would have to beg him for it though because he would still be jealous what a loser)

i personally think that ren would want a family. its not an intense urge he has, not something he thinks about 24/7, but he thinks about it every so often and how nice it would be (he’s also not getting any younger). ren is very fucked up (from both trauma and who he is as a person now) and it might not happen, but he still thinks about it, especially with you. its very cheesy of him to say, but he knows you’re the one. when he’s really going through it and feeling down, he wonders if what you have is real, if you truly love him or if it’s all for show to just survive (you always tell him that if it was just for show you wouldn’t be so willing to be around him and probably would have killed yourself early on babe your stockholm syndrome is showing)

nsfw (under the cut)

cliché but ren likes to bite during sex. he gets rather caught up in the moment and tasting you really gets him going

his heats can be pretty intense. his more clingy side comes out when he’s in heat and he will not leave you alone. from the moment you wake up until you fall asleep for the night (if you sleep during his heat), he has you in different positions and his dick is always inside you. even if you have to get up for something, he is following you, basically piggybacking you with how close he is

while you probably don’t appear in streams anymore, ren will occasionally film you two fucking. he teases you by telling you that you’re live and everyone is watching or that he’ll upload it for his fans later (a lie, you’re for his eyes only now but he does love how flush you get and how you beg him to turn the camera off)

this is already canon but ren loves seeing you in cute, frilly lingerie. there is nothing he loves more than to buy you an expensive lingerie set and have you show it off to him, only for him to rip it off of you within seconds. if he really likes the piece he’ll fuck you in the lingerie and will have you wear it again

phone sex while he’s away. every night he’ll call you just to listen to you get yourself off while he talks you through it. he’s fisting his cock during it as well, but he loves guiding you through it more. he has to make sure you don’t miss him too much. sometimes he’ll cut the call short and will wait for the spam of calls and texts from you as you beg him to call you again so you can cum. if you don’t get to call, he’ll demand you send pictures/videos. anything will do: shirtless pics, videos of you fingering yourself. he keeps everything you send him in a special folder on his phone that he turns to when he needs a quick dose of you

loves teasing you in public. fancy restaurant on the nice end of town? ren has his hand in your pants while the two of you talk over a split dessert (well, he’s talking. you’re trying to not moan out loud in the middle of the restaurant). is not afraid to drag you into an alley and push you to your knees, cock springing out as he tells you to open your mouth. he’s not worried about anyone seeing but if they do he’ll either throw a smirk their way if you’re hidden from their sight or, if you’re not hidden, he’ll remember what they look like and will seek them out later for a ‘friendly chat’ (you are for his eyes only)

BREEDING KINK!!! following my whole ‘ren wants a family’ thing, he def has a breeding kink. even if his intention isn’t to knock you up, he talks like it is. talks about cumming inside you and how good you would look all round and full of his pups. you moan at his words, too drunk on his cock to reply or think about what he’s saying. you’d ask him to cum inside you, begging him to fill you with his cum. he’s also definitely the type to push his cum back into you as it leaks out. (for my ladies: he’ll definitely put a pillow beneath your hips to help the chances if he’s feeling spicy)

#anon ask #i have many thought and opinions (and thots) about tpof ren he is so BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK #god i hope i didnt write him too uwu i try to do the btd/tpof characters justice but ya know #the price of flesh #ren hana #tpof fox #ren hana x reader #smut

[skeletonapricationday]

Collaboration

Dead dove do not eat

I do not condone any of these actions and neither should you. This is purely fantasy. Do not forget that.

Warnings: blood kink, choking (gone a little far), bondage bench, face fucking, knotted genitals (fox pp), dark web streaming, recorded sex, and too many more to count.

Minors dni

You move around your messy warehouse excitedly and nervously. All the cameras placed perfectly, even a few mics placed caustiously as to not be in view. You walk over to your computer screens, their bright lights the only lights in the room. They shine on your face as you slip the mask on. Securing it tight. The familiar feeling of power surging through you.

1...2...3...Action!

"Hey my little degenerates! Cobra here today with a very exciting stream." You see the chats and views roll in quickly. The followers you've gained over the years quick to join.

'A new exciting stream! We've missed you Cobra' one writes. 'I've been so lonely without my favorite whore.' Another chimes in. All types of messages on your screens.

"Awee you've missed me. That's so cute." You say, your lips curling into a foul smile. The mask covered the top half of your face, leaving your plump round mouth as the only thing in view. "I missed yall too, but you won't regret why I've been gone for so long...today we have a very exciting guest. Can yall guess who it is?" You ask sickly sweet.

'A guest? Is it a new toy?' A chatter asks. 'No, she never introduces her toys this way.' Another correctly assumes. 'Could it be another streamer?'

"Oh my. You've gone from cold to burning hot chat. You're close~" You purr. Waiting for them to catch on. "C'mon yall begged for this. You should know!" You say fake pouting. Setting up a silent hype for your viewers.

Suddenly the door opens behind you, setting your nerves ablaze. You've never met him before, but you've seen his streams. Always quick to jump in and even tip him. You look over as he stands out of the cameras view, slowly putting on his mask. He's so quick you didn't get to see his face. "Guys! Your surprise is here." You giggle standing. Walking over to him, flaunting your hips as you walk for the camera.

The man barks out a laugh. "My, you seem more excited than your chat." He says in that usual mechanical tone you've come to love.

"Can't help it, I'm also a fan yknow." You giggle nervously.

You can hear the chat going wild. Some already catching on from his voice alone, and others left in utter confusion. You toy with the stockings on your lingire nervously. Wondering what to say or do, but you quickly go back to being professional.

He walks slowly into the frame, walking straight up to a camera. "Hey chat- did you miss me too?" He asks expertly, his reveal making the fans go nuts.

'No way! Cobra did it!' 'I wanna be her, I've always wanted to meet Fox.' 'Shut up and just enjoy this!' The chat goes wild, sending in tips before the show even starts.

You walk over and playfully grab Fox's arm, pulling it close to your barely clothed chest. "Isn't this just exciting! Who knew you'd ever respond to little ol' me." You tease, looking into his cold eyes.

"I'm not dumb enough to reject such an offer! I'm sure plenty would kill to be in my place." He teases back, quick on his feet. "Though I'm sorry for the time crunch, I wish we could've met behind the scenes first." He says earnestly, like he's also excited for this show.

"It's no problem. We're both busy people." You purr out like honey. Voice more animalistic than the fox being in front of you. Excited merely at the thought of this shoot.

He wrenches his arm out of your grasp, grabbing your waist with it. His sharp nails caressing your bare side. "I hate making pretty woman wait, especially when they're famous. Should we get to it?" He asks, then looks back the screen. Fans biting their nails eagerly for this.

This was it. You're a famous gore streamer yourself, frequently buying from Fox's underground trade. Breaking toy after toy. You even did a few streams of just yourself, a nice toy, and a knife, those seem to be the fans favorites. They want to see you in a reversed position. Used the same way you use others. You're pulled out of your thoughts by a harsh grip.

His nails now digging into your side, small spots of blood pouring down from the small puncture wounds. You hiss and groan, receiving a small chuckle in return. "Now now- we haven't even started. Can't have you zoning out...yet." He says, a dark looming foreshadow. You blush under your mask and look at him.

"Sorry I'm a tad nervous. I'm not exactly used to handing over my reigns." You say like an announcer, trying to keep the act up for the fans. He simply looks humored as he pulls his hand away. When he does you quickly show off to the camera the small cresant shaped injuries. Nothing major, not even worse than what you've done to yourself. Simply telling of what's to come.

"So I've brought something special, since I'm being gifted such a special toy." He purrs, walking over and opening a suitcase. Inside is a choke chain you've seen on stream before. "Don't worry doll, that's just the beginning." He hums out. Pulling out the chain and placing it aside. Underneath is a peculiar looking stick. You don't know what it is until he pulls it out, it's a cane. Long, hard, and sturdy. The perfect tool to get yelps out of someone. You gulp nervously, unsure of this, but also entirely sure.

He walks over and grabs your bandage bench, setting it up to fit you. Hooking the choke chain into the ceiling above it. If he wasn't wearing a mask you could swear he was smirking. "Do you understand the plan now doll?" He asks darkly with a honeyed undertone. You nod slowly and understanding. Seeing that the play has already begun.

You look at the camera and pretend to fan your face. "Geez chat it feels like it's already gotten hot in here!" You beam. Feeling Fox come behind you, running his hands up and down your sides.

"I think it's just you." He says into your ear, gripping onto your breast in front of the camera. Pushing them together for the viewers pleasure before teasing your nipples through the lace. Getting a small moan from you. "Afterall, what a cute little outfit. Is this all for me?" He barks out curiously, running his hands down to your thighs. Wiggling and playing with them like a cat.

"Of course it's for you silly. Gotta put on my best wear right?" You respond right back, trying to keep your confidence.

He whispers low into your ear, so quiet the microphones can't pick it up. He's speaking just for you. "Perfect darling. Perfect. Because I'm going to destroy you." He then looks at the camera and crinkles his eyes innocently. He grabs your throat, squeezing lightly.

You gasp as your airflow is weakened, not completely restricted. "Now where do we start with a little inexperienced thing like you?" He quips to the camera. Reading off chat requests till one catches his eye.

'Just strip her already and put her in that chair. I wanna see a Dom squeal.' He laughs at the chatter. Turning your head so you can see the message too. "You hear that doll? Your cute little fans wanna see you turned into a mess. Normally we'd do some kind of light play before getting into the meat of the show but...I can see you're too tantalizing for that." His grip on your throat tightens. Completely cutting off your ability to breathe.

You struggle a bit, surprised by his harsh grip. He only lets out a huff through his nose and squeezes tighter. Causing you to feel a small ring like bruise form on your precious skin. He lets go.

You fall to the floors coughing, holding the concrete floor as a life line. He picks up a camera and zooms it in on your face. "We've only just started and she's already sputtering. Are you sure you aren't just a bottom in disguise?' He asks curiously, running his boot up your thigh, pressing painfully into it.

"Nope, I'm a switch, Fox. Never claimed to be a dom." You giggle out cockily. Looking through the holes of your mask defiantly. Rubbing your throat to ease the pain of the mark, feeling wetness pool at your thighs. His harsh and unloving gaze already turning you on.

"Doesn't mean anything if you're still pathetic." He says, barking out another laugh. Taking his boot off your thigh he notions towards the bdsm bench. Telling you to get ready to be strapped in.

You slowly stand and walk to it. The bandage bench forcing you into a downward dog position. He straps you in carefully, till you can only move your head back and forth, and mildly rock your hips. "You look better positioned like the bitch you are." He says looking down at you. Putting the choke chain around your neck, forcing you to keep your head up. One wrong move and the nails would pierce through your throat, rendering you dead.

"I'm not a dog." You say in a bratty tone. Smirking at him like 'what are you gonna do about it.'

"Sure you are." He smiles, running a cold gloved hand down your back all the way to your ass. Goosebumps forming whereever he touches. He quickly brings a hand down to your ass causing you to yelp. "See? You just barked." He giggles out. Entertained by your shattering ego.

"I don't bark, I moan get it right." You huff in response, rolling your eyes. He can't see it since he's behind you, but you're sure he catches it in one of the several viewfinders. Your kinky play broadcasted to thousands. It makes you grow wetter at the thought, and distracts you enough for Fox to surprise you

A sudden blinding pain vibrates through your body. Starting at your ass and zapping all the way up your spine. You whimper when it subsides. "What is-?" You shout confused.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten? I even showed you." He purrs behind you. Rubbing over the mark on your ass, soothing it with his cold palm. "That's one."

"On-one?" You stutter. Keeping your head painfully up despite the urge to hang your head in pain. "How many are you gonna do Fox." Suddently you scream in pain again.

"Wrong." He states coldly. "Whats my name?" He asks.

You bite your bottom lip in thought but come up blank."Fox-its Fox- AAA." Another slap of the cane.

"Fox is only when you're human." He coos. "And right now you're a toy. What do toys say?" He hums, tapping his nails on your back expectantly.

"Daddy..." You hush out quietly.

"Say it proudly or you've earned another." He grabs the back of your hair, forcing your head even further upward. "Say it, slut."

"Daddy!" You shout, tears pricking your eyes under your mask. You hear a laugh behind you and he lets your head go. Leaving you to hold yourself up.

"Good girl!" He says proudly, a lustful tone underneath. "See it wasn't that hard...but I am." He jokes to the camera. Looking right into the lens like a famous actor.

"You're hard?" You ask excitedly. Your ego lighting aflame in your chest. You made Fox hard. You've won. You did it.

"You don't believe me?" He says with a fake pout. Rubbing his cock against your ass. "Do you believe me now?" He says, rutting his hips a tad, groaning at the clothed contact.

"Yes daddy." You purr. Feeling it twitch in his pants, his tip probably already soaking wet just like you. "I'm wet~" You respond.

You yelp when the cane comes back down on you, this time hitting your thigh. It's difficult to keep your head up on your own through the fire but you manage. "I don't need a naughty girl stating the obvious. Do I?" He ask retortically, not looking for a real answer. He's looking for submission.

"No daddy. You don't." You whine, biting your bottom lip.

"Behave and you'll get rewarded, so will your fans." He hums, a smile in his voice. He walks in front of you and removes the choke chain. Letting you finally hang your head limply, giving your neck a rest. He tsks his tongue "No, no baby. That isn't why I freed you. You got a show to put on!" He says micheviously, like he's reprimanding a toddler.

"What do I do daddy?" You say trying to convince yourself to look up, no matter how limp you felt.

You hear the pop of buttons and that gets your attention. Looking up at him through blurry eyes, blinking rapidly. "So that catches your attention huh?" He teases. He rubs his claw against your bottom lip, smearing your blood from earlier on it. "Open. Do a good job and you won't get the cane for the rest of the night."

'That's right, treat her like the whore she is!' 'This is the best show yet!' 'I'm so glad I paid for this.' Echos of chats and tips come in, but they simply bounce off your blurry mind.

You open your lips slowly, feeling his knotted tip entering your mouth. Jaw being stretched impossibly wide. You hiss at the angle but open your mouth further, allowing him to push in the rest. "Remember, no teeth doll. I feel a single tooth and I'll pull them out of your skull." He beams cheerily. Throwing his head back with a groan as he slides in and out of your wet tight mouth. "It's like you were made for this." He says with a smirk in his wavering tone. His voice gravely, but his groans higher pitched.

You can't properly respond so you hum around him. Sending pleasurable vibrations through his dick. "Oh yea that's it doll. Fuck." He curses and looks back down at you. Making direct eye contact through your mask.

You whine around him, feeling your throat painfully restrict on every thrust. His tail swishing from side to side behind him, betraying his cold gaze and revealing his excitement. You move your tongue around rapidly, hoping it'll make him cum. Wanting nothing more than to feel his salty seed pour down your throat. He starts to thrust faster. Holding you by your hair to angle himself better. "That's it. Take it. Fucking take it." He repeats his words as you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. The veins pulsing more and more, tipping you off that he'll cum soon. You suck harder, desperate. "I'm going cum- that's it. Imma' pour my cum right down your throat. You want that baby?" He urges. Almost like you could say yes. You can't speak so you hum again and that sends him over the edge. Cum painting the inside of your neck. The thick liquid clinging to the walls, almost gagging you. He pulls out slowly with a relieved sigh. You cough and sputter, drool and a little bit of cum leaking down your chin.

"My, my don't you just look pretty. Let's see how wet you've become huh?" You look at him blushed, not wanting him to see the mess you've made. He walks behind you and laughs, gently slapping the side of your ass. "Wow, you really enjoyed that didn't you. Do you often dream of being a cocksleeve?"

You think of lying, but his cold sharp gaze can be felt behind you. You decide against it, clearing your throat. "Yes daddy. I do." He barks out another laugh.

"I made her suck me so hard I made her an honest woman." He teases cockily. Proud of everything. He rubs a hand against your still clothed folds. Collecting slick even through the fabric. You hear lick and slurping behind you, he was cleaning it off his hand. He was tasting you, and he moaned while doing it. "Geez, wish we could bottle this taste."

"That wouldn't sell well daddy." You joke back, he chuckles.

"On the contrary, I think it would be top teir on the sales chart." He giggle and rips your panties in half. Leaving your aching hole in the open, the cold air making you clench around nothing. "I don't even wanna bother preparing you, I mean you're already so wet. What's the point."

"You can just enter daddy...please." You whine, rocking your hips purposefully. Begging to finally get your rocks off after all this pain.

"Whatever you say, don't complain if it's a tight fit." He says proudly, stroking his own ego.

You feel the tip of his cock slip through your folds, teasing and collecting wetness. He even slaps the tip against your clit a few times, earning hefty short moans from your lips. "Daddy please!" You shout and as soon as you do he enters. Painfully stretching you open, filling up your aching cunt all too quickly. You cry and sob out a moan. A mixture of pain and pleasure as his hips meet your abused ass. His balls slapping against your clit.

"This is one tight cunt." He growls approvingly, like he was rating it. Slowly slipping in and out again. Actually giving you a few thrusts to adjust. You moan out babbles of thank you and daddy. "Oh baby I'm not gonna be nice, it just feels like I'm going to break in half. You got one beast of a pussy baby." He chuckles out.

He starts slamming back into you at an impossible speed, each thrust earning a yelp and moan. You whine as his tip kisses your cervix with each aching movement. Your thighs already shaking like you're going to cum. "Not so soon~" He purrs between his own moan. "Daddy has gotta get close first." He says cockily. Leaning down and sniffing your neck. "God you smell so fucking arousing!"

You moan and press your hips back against him, begging nonverbally for more. "Daddy please m' needa cum. Gotta cum daddy please-" You pant out. Bucking and trashing in the bondage bench desperately. More drool dripping down your already coated jaw. Each inahle you can taste his cum again, it only heightens your senses. "Daddy-daddy!" You shout.

"Just a little longer baby mm." He responses softly despite his animalistic pace. "You're gonna take it, and take it, and take it till I tell you otherwise." He punctuates every word with a sharp thrust. Fucking you deep and fast, not even pulling out completely. Every slap of his balls on your clit causing you to scream, tears falling down your face.

" 'mma cum 'mma cum I can't I can't-" You sob out, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him. You hear a deep gravely sound pull out of him. He leans down into your shoulder and you hear his mask unclip. He bites harshly into your shoulder, blood dripping down onto the floor in front of you. You scream loudly, clenching again. He licks and laps at the wound, hiding his face from the public in your skin.

"Look into the fucking camera when you cum." You hear him put his mask back on. A strong hand gripping the base of your jaw, forcing you to look up. "Cum slut, now." He hisses between clenched teeth.

You do, the whole world turning white. Your walls spasming like crazy on his dick. Squirting onto the floor, his pants, and cock. Clear liquid streaming out of you. The world feels blurry and unreal as all the pleasure hits you. You don't even know if you're moaning, maybe you're talking but you don't know. It all feels too good, it's feels too too good.

"That's it. That's fucking it doll. Cum on daddy." He growls. Shooting hot ropes of seed inside you, burying himself in your cunt. Each pulse is another round of cum slipping out of him and into you. If you weren't on the pill you'd be pregnant for sure. "God I could fucking breed you. Whore." He hisses as he pulls out. Cum dripping down your abused folds.

You chuckle cockdrunk, drool leaking out of your mouth uncontrollably. "Hehe daddy~" You purr.

The lights of all the cameras shut off as you see the room grow darker. He had ended the stream. You're unhooked from the bench and fall right into his arms. He pulls your mask off and his too, bringing you in and kissing you deep. Your blood on his tongue and the taste of his cum of yours. It was like lightning.

"Let's see how good you preform off stream." You hear the dark voice as you fade out of consciousness. Passing out.

#price of flesh #the price of flesh #ren hana #ren hana x reader #x reader #smut #pure smut #no plot to be found #i have issues #the price of flesh ren hana #ren x reader #tpof #tpof ren #tpof fox #tpof x reader #no use of y/n #no use for a name #lol #streamer

[the7thheroine]

Ren hana red String of fate au

(Honestly I’m trying to get the ball rolling on someone writing a string of fate Ren hana x Reader because i hate reading my own work as a fic so if someone else did it I would be so greatful 😭)

(During Strade)

• When Ren had the string during Strade, often Strade would threaten Ren with it and tried to make him cut it off a few times

•when he’d be alone in the basement or in his room he would be contemplating you, what you were like, where you were, and if you were a beast kin like him.

•He’d almost always go to the basement when there was a victim to ensure it wasn’t you. If it was you he’d freak out and beg Strade. (You’d probably die tbh)

•Ren would love you no matter though, even if your millions of miles away and he doesn’t know where. He’s always praying that one day if he gets free, he’d be able to hunt you down.

During btd 2

•now, this is probably the worst time to meet Ren as he’s going through a crisis without Strade and being stuck between being a killer or getting help

•if you met him he’d kidnap you 🤷‍♀️ your his so why is it wrong is what he thinks.

•He’d be so in love with you and would always be touching you and holding onto you

•If he met you in the bar with Lawrence he’s definitely ditching Lawrence and putting the drug in your drink in order to take you home.

• He hates if you try and leave or if you insult him. he doesn’t want to hurt you! But if you keep disobeying and being a bad soulmate he’ll result to it.

•he refuses to make “content” with you. Your his for his own personal pleasure and he’d never share anything remotely physical of you!

(The price of flesh)

•by now Rens gone cold. he’s hardened up and is no longer the soft guy he was.

•he doesn’t really think of you much as he’s now focused on work and his “toys”

•your always there though in his head, always lingering. He can never keep a toy too long as he feels like he’s betraying you and your trust.

•When he meets you though, it’s like a switch flips. He becomes obsessed.

•he was going to target you as a victim, but now he knows your his soulmate? Not a chance.

•he stalks you for a long time. Watching, and learning about you. And eventually he sets up the perfect way to meet you to your preference. So you’ll fall for him immediately.

• He does Trust you and love you, but he can’t be without you now he has you. So he locks you up in a fancy house with everything you need.

•Punishments are far and few but if you do miss behave he’s taking you to the chop shop and your getting streamed buddy.

•He treats you extremely well, however if he’s ever in a bad mood or just feeling particularly sour over his past he’s going to give you a few scratches.

#ren hana #ren #the price of flesh #ren hana x reader #the price of flesh x reader #the price of flesh fox x reader #fox x reader #Strade #strade btd #ren btd #ren x reader btd #soulmate au #soulmates #soulmate x reader

[hiskillingjar]

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’. 

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal. 

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal. 

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut. 

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside. 

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way). 

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal. 

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him. 

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though. 

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything. 

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you. 

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering. 

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?” 

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain. 

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing. 

He was making sure you were healing. 

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. " 

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly. 

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission. 

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way. 

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..." 

Or.

You swallowed again. 

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.” 

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

#the price of flesh #fox tpof #ren hana #ren hana x reader #ren x mc #fox x reader #fox x mc #ray's fics #i'm insaneeeeeee mental asylummmmmm #i wanna go full rebecca the yellow wallpaper with fox i'm sorryyyyyy

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere Alphabet: Ren Hana

I just love that dude, mkay! He has me heart and soul! This is specifically BtD2 Ren, so yeah. Favourite route of that game! This got quite long, it´s around 6k because I thought I would try something else for this, and I´m actually quite happy how it turned out! Hilariously enough I started to write this, around January 2023 and just finished it (April 2024).

I´ll hope you will like it too, because it was already one of my favourite things to reread every once in a while! Have fun!

Ren Hana

He is insane. He hates you. He loves you. He lives only for you. He would kill you in a heartbeat. Full of contradictions he tends to be a rather mercurial character. You are the first one to know that. Did you maybe, just like me, hunt down every last line of dialogue, every last image in his route. He hides away from sight, and only catches you when he is sure, that he will be able to.

„Let´s be perfectly clear, shall we. The fox is not a little orange puppy dog with doe eyes and a waggly tail. It´s a disease-ridden wolf with the morals of a psychopath and the teeth of a great white shark.“ ~ Jeremy Clarkson

For he was truly raised, tortured and formed by a psychopath. By a sadist without any morals. And on you, this little fox will discover his sharp claws and great teeth once more.

„Beware the fox that makes the ravens fly“

Run little one, run. For you will be his prey.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

When Ren gets it into his head to shower you with affection, it can get quite uncomfortable rather quickly, as he tends to ignore any personal boundaries you ever tried to communicate. He is intense in the way his eyes track you, and in those moments you wonder how you could ever miss the way. that he is a clear predator. And in the next moment he pounces on you with a sweet giggle to simply share his warmth with you. Sometimes when you´re eating, his body is pressed close to yours, with no way left for you, so that you could escape from him. He will hold food up to your mouth, expecting you to take it. His eyes just daring you to refuse him, and with the way his other hand plays with something in his pocket, the threat is clear. Other days he will hand you something, and only give you a small moment to appreciate his gift, before he will pounce on you, nearly bowling you ever, and only his hands behind your head saving you from a concussion, as he demands his reward. Cuddling you on the floor, as he lowly purrs into your ear, his tail wrapping around your waist.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

On some days you will come to the painful realization, that Ren is more animal, than human. Those are definitely the days, he comes back home with blood still splattered all over his face, and the sound of something being dragged in behind him. It´s those days, when he calls for you to come with a playful uncanny trill in his voice, that makes listening to it so unpleasant. It´s those days, when he rips the still bleeding, still warm corpse apart in front of you. Sometimes off-handedly offering you a piece of flesh he just tore out of what had been a living breathing person moments before. On other days you will realize, that while he is clearly brutal, he holds you dear. At least, it´s what you need to believe, when he violently goes for the throat of that guy who tried to touch you when you refused, and then thought you would be more agreeable when he shakes you around. It´s what you whisper in the sudden quiet in your mind, when Ren comes to you. Blood dripping of his fangs and claws, and tenderly holds onto your bruised wrist. He is cooing at you, and the rapidly cooling body behind him, stares at you with unseeing eyes. You try to desperately believe what you tell yourself, as Ren carefully leads you away, humming slightly to calm you back down. It´s what you need to do, because you thought you saw accusations swimming in those dead eyes.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Ren does crave your love and your companionship more than anything else. So, in order to achieve that, he will try to be kind to you, after all that could help him earn what he wants. Right? He will be kind and accommodating, and his reward will be you. Though, when he realizes, that you still reject him, he won´t hesitate to be cruel to you in return. If you´re throwing everything, that he gave you simply away, well then he doesn´t need to give it to you in the first place. In the end your companionship can simply be achieved through obedience as well, no? When it comes down to it, he will mirror you. Throw back at you what you show him first. If you are kind, he will be as well. If you are cruel, he will be cruel. An almost perfect mirror, that will throw your own attitude back at you, but so much more dangerous than you could ever be.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Ren will force his need of skinship onto you, if you want to or not. The one time, that you struggled as if trying to free yourself, you stopped out of self-preservation when his grip grew tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe for you. Sometimes he will come to you, to simply hold your face, gently tracing it´s shape, his claws nothing but a whisper on your skin. These are the things you could tolerate. The ones you can´t are when he shushes you, more growl than calming purr, when he pulls you down the stairs towards the basement. The smell of blood, already coming over you, and you already know what will await you. You don´t kick or scream, only sob quietly, hoping that you will not make him angry. His next shush comes with him, wiping away your tears. But you shiver in fright and disgust, when you see how he licks his hand clean afterwards. Chasing the taste of your tears on his fingers. Though, this is still the lesser evil, than the dead man walking, that will await you down there.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

It would annoy you how much he talks with you, if he wasn´t the only one breaking the silence. And as long as he is chatty, he isn´t brooding either. He will talk about the most inconsequential things, throwing in stuff every once in a while that is so heartfelt, that it becomes jarring to you. You would hate how open he is with you, as if you aren´t a prisoner of his. You would maybe even react, if you didn´t knew, that he is still trying to gauge how much he can trust you with. And every time, he decides to trust you, you have to believe that this is a good thing. For your own sanity. Though you hate one specific time with a burning passion. It´s when he pulls you towards the couch, and pushes you into the pillows he already laid out. When he then stands up, to push a self-titeled disk, the ink already worn away in places, into the player. When he comes back to cuddle you, as you watch with horror living in your ribcage, how a man you never saw, but instinctively put at fault for your situation, ripping into another being with glee. When he whispers softly, about those day, when the body in the cooler, was still a man, and of all the things he did, as Ren watches you. When you wish he would just shut it all of, and he would be the only thing again, that is breaking the silence.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

The moment you try to use force against him, is also the moment you already lost. There is nothing left of the boy you knew, as the gentle cooing that haunts you in your nightmares, turns into a vicious growl, that is more fitting to belong there. You hit the ground hard, and your vision swims for a moment, till the growling suddenly become muffled. It takes a moment to pull yourself back to consciousness, and for you notice the claws sinking deeper into your shoulders, and the sharp pain, that comes from your neck, which gets so much worse, when Ren pulls back again. Blood dripping from his mouth onto your face, he gnashes his teeth at you. You don´t even scream, still numb from it all, when he pulls you down those dreaded stairs, to a place you never wish to set foot in, and yet visit time and time again. You know he will show how „kind“ he has been the whole time. He will hurt you like in those movies. But the only thing going through your mind, is the image of the pleasure he seemed to feel, when he licked your blood from his lips. Then you remember the heartless corpse downstairs. You scream.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Ren bristles when you ask him that. He can feel how his tail bushes up, and curls around you without him consciously willing it to happen. His teeth gnash together, as he squints at you. He only stops the growl that already started up somewhere deep in his chest, when he sees you flinch away from him. He huffs instead at you, and lets himself fall relaxed back onto you. He waits patiently for you to go back to carding your fingers through his hair as you had done, before asking this, quite frankly, offensive and stupid question, before he starts purring again. He doesn´t know who he is trying to calm down at this point. He wonders, if he has forgotten to show you how much he loves and adores you. His sweet, precious thing, that stays with him, that listens to him. You, who keeps that damn ghost, that still haunts him every day away. He wonders if he should tell you, that he wants you to stay with him for forever and ever and ever. Though, that might frighten you. So he simply nuzzles you, as he purrs softly, ignoring how you flinch away from him with practice.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You were careful. And o how careful you had to be, to not accidentally set him off. But you wanted him so badly to realize, that this was not how a relationship worked. He had mentioned time and time again, and yet you couldn´t quite believe it. And when you asked – gentle, careful, don´t anger him – he had looked at you funny, before grinning. A sly smirk, that reminded you rather suddenly, that you weren´t talking to a human. As if the ears and tails hadn´t clued you in. Though, this didn´t feel like the grin of a fox, more like a hungry wolf, as he contemplated out loud, that he was behaving rather strangely, at least to his kinds standards. After all, he was being patient and accommodating to your own behaviour till now, though, he could change if you wanted to. You shook your head, and instead thanked him. You knew he hadn´t lied.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He whispers his vision to you in the death of the night. His quiet voice, soothing were it only makes you so afraid. He paints a picture, that makes him sink deeper into the cushions, makes him feel safe and content, while you can do nothing but watch in horror. If you were just a bit more like him, you would be sure, that your hair would be standing upright with the terror chasing down your spine. Though, what he describes isn´t so far off, what he already has with you. Have you grown this complacent, to simply give in to his every wish? He wants to lay down with you, in the sun spots inside the house, side by side, curled around each other. And your hand just burrows deeper in his hair, careful to only scratch and not pull. His vision, is already your reality.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He knows that there is nothing for him to get jealous over. Where would you go? Who would you be able to turn to? If you ran, would you ever be able to run far enough? Or would he catch up to you before you knew it? He knows the answer to these questions. And they will never worry him, as much as you seem to worry about them. He knew he won. It´s once more proven to him, when he finds you kneeling by the door. Tears running down your face, spit slowly dabbling from your chin. Now and then a small jerk going through your body. Your eyes look vacant, as he walks past and opens the door for you. His victory only becomes more certain, when you turn away from the light, the breeze, with an anguished cry. What does he need to be jealous of?

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

His behaviour tends to closely mirror your own. He doesn´t seem to be aware of it most of time. At other points, it seems more than intentional. He repeats phrases, that you have said. His speech patterns begin to more closely resemble your own, the more time you spent with each other. Or do yours resemble his? It seems, that the two of you bleed more and more into the other, as time passed. Over time though, while you grew more and more subdued. He became louder. Where you grew into something, that cowers away. He became something, that would be impossible to miss. He mirrors you, but he plays into every extreme there is. Your melancholy becomes something loud and heart wrenching. Your happiness wraps into demented glee and shrieks of joy. Your gentle affection on his face turns into a punishing grip. Ren clings to you. He knows, that he is adapting to your personality, though where this might frighten you, it only brings him joy. He always knew, that you were the perfect fit for him. His perfect other half, and now he only got to prove it. He won´t let you go. Oh no. He never will. And why should he? With all the work he put in, to be your counterpart? He will cling to you till the end of time.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

You were bored, when he approached you. His soft voice nearly scared you half to death, when he started to talk to you. You hadn´t even heard him coming close. There was a sharp wit lacing his every word, as he waved your anxiousness away with a quiet humour twisting around his mouth. You and him talked nearly for the whole night. You were no longer bored. Drink after drink gets shared between the two of you, as dawn slowly comes around. You don´t even notice, when they start to taste funny. Maybe you simply drank too much? Your sudden tiredness is blamed on the late hour, and even when it feels like you can´t keep your eyes open any more and his smile is so full of sharp teeth. Maybe your fear was reasonable. Maybe you should have listened to that first instinctual response of absolute terror, when you noticed at first. These thoughts run slowly and languid through your mind, as he hoists you up over his shoulder, and simply walks out. No one stops him.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

There is a quiet confidence, you observe, that seems to find him in the strangest moments. His mood is quick to change. Laughter can turn into angry screams, faster than you can keep up with it most of the time. It´s no secret to you, that Ren is unstable. It´s also pretty obvious to you, that he is aware of that fact as well. Whenever he actually decides to take you outside, Good behaviour need to be rewarded dear, he has to concentrate. He can´t be too domineering over you, and so he falls back into patterns, that make him seem shy and unassuming. He knows, where those habits formed, and while he wouldn´t thank Strade for them, he still finds them useful for this. He knew what a charmer Strade was, just as he is now as well. A good trait to have, if one is like him. So he puts on the mask, that helps him to navigate the outside easily. Voice timid and shy. Never taking up more space, than he needs to. He basically vanishes into the background. It´s easy for him to watch every little move that you make. After all, you also tend to forget that he is here, whenever he gets like this.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

You don´t even know why he suddenly slams into you. Tearing you down to the ground with him. He is hovering above you, lips pulled back into a cruel snarl. Teeth gnashing and spit slowly dripping from the corners of his mouth. Right now he resembles more than ever, the violent and feral animal, that he always pretends not to be. There is the clinking of chains, as your breath only comes shortly. His teeth violently snap shut just inches from your face. When he speaks, a melodious hum, you can barely understand him, but the little you do frightens you. It freezes the blood in your veins, as you try to shake your head at him. Tears are already rolling down your face. He pats your face, then your head. His grip on the chain wrapped like a collar around your throat not loosening. He chuckles out But what a pretty star you would make. It would surely be my new favourite film. You can only cry harder, as you think of the man in cellar. You try to plead and beg with him, as he yanks you down the stairs. Your limbs kicking out in every direction, as you pull at the chain and try to stop him. The wooden steps bruise your back, and his laugh rings in your ears. When you swipe at him accidentally instead of the chain, his laughter stops. He doesn´t pay your terrified shrieking any mind, as he fished a little button from his pants pocket and presses down. You don´t really move, when he pulls at the leash again. Drool and spit slowly dribbling from your mouth, as fine tremors run through your body. You don´t even know what brought this on.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You wake up with a groan. You definitely drank too much last night. Your head pounds, and every little movement you make makes you wince. When you finally open your eyes, you don´t recognize the room. Carefully lifting the blanket you realize that you are only half-dressed. You can´t even remember how you got here. It takes you stumbling around the room, ripping open the curtains and seeing your reflection in the barred up windows to realize that there is something on your neck. It´s bulky and heavy, and no matter how much you fiddle with it, you can´t get it off. When the door suddenly opens, you nearly scream. The boy, red hair and kind of small, seems vaguely familiar to you, lets out a surprised yelp. His smile seems kind, but when he notices you still fiddling with the collar, his expression grows dark. It´s a low Stop that! that gives you a momentarily pause, before you ignore it. The next thing you know is pain. The boy holding a remote, as he comes to a stop standing over you. He crouches down next to you, a small smile playing around his lips, as he watches you drool and shake. There is a worried crease between his eyebrow, that you can´t help but feel like it´s fake. He pats your head, with a smile, as he licks his too sharp teeth. O this is gonna be fun. I love you so much my dear!

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

You looked at his hand, as if he would bite it off, when you took it. Come here, he crooned, curling his fingers in slowly. His patience was slowly running thin. You couldn´t see it from your position, but he had started to fiddle with the remote of your shock collar. He was contemplating to just shock you into complying with his simple request, but something about the way you looked at him – shaking, scared – stopped him. His patience was rewarded when you finally reached out for him, curling your fingers around his as he helped you up from the floor. He nuzzled close into your neck, and patted your hair. Good job, darling! So good for me~, he couldn´t help a little moan slipping out with the words. He led the way to the basement door, and opened it. Walking down the steps first, he sighed as he heard how your footsteps had stopped. With just one glance over his shoulder, he knew that this time you wouldn´t come that easy. It wasn´t fear and hesitance – both very under stable to him – that stopped you this time, but stubbornness. Without even hesitating, he pressed the button on his remote. Keeping it pushed down, only giving you short breaks to let you catch your breath, he grapped you by your shirt to drag your convulsing body down the stairs with him. Dropping you down at the pole, he leaned in close If I want something, you do it!, with that he tapped you on the nose, before standing up again.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You better hope and pray, that something else will kill you before he gets his hands on you. He stares down at the broken collar, then at his open front door. The laughter, that escapes him at this moment is strained. With a deep breath, he already knows where you went, and moves to follow you. The hunt is on. It was hard to get him to this point in your conversation, but maybe you actually got through to him. He looks at you with wet and wide eyes, before he suddenly sobs. Collapsing into your open arms, he burrows close to you. You try not to flinch, as his hands suddenly snake around your throat, but the click you hear, stuns you. We will meet each other again, right? Do this the right way again?, he asks as he gently puts the collar to the side. You can´t help yourself but to whisper a Of course! against his twitching ears. Blood covers his hands, his chest. He can feel how it already started to dry on his face, flaking off. This wasn´t supposed to happen. He didn´t intend to do this! Carefully, he pushed his hands beneath your body, to lift you up. He stumbles down the steps to the basement. It´s a bit of a fumble to get the lid open, but he finally manages it, as he lays you next to Strade. Huh. That looks almost cute. Flexing his claws, he tears open your chest cavity, and rips out your heart. As he bites into it, he gently closes your eyes, only to slide down to the floor and lean his back against the freezer. He starts to talk to you both. When he is finished, he will close the lid, and maybe watch a movie. Doesn´t he have something with you in it?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

It´s with a spring in his step, that he carries you out of the bar. He waves off the concerns of the other patrons, whispering instead in approachable manner Drank a bit too much, you know how it can be. The rancorous laughter than follows tells him, he hit the right tone. He has to adjust you once or twice, hefting you higher up on his shoulder. The same lie becomes easier for him to tell over time. Such a good boy, one older lady comments, and he can´t help but giggle to himself. His hands only start to shake with adrenaline, after he deposited you on the bed, he had prepared for a guest. He fumbles with the collar, that he became very familiar with under Strade, before he gently clicks it around your neck. Carefully he adjusts, so that it won´t be uncomfortable for you to wear. It is with a smile, that he removes your shoes and jacket. He wonders if he should remove your jeans as well, before deciding that they must be terrible to sleep in. He hums lightly as he unbuttons them. His hands hovering over your body. Still asleep, the drugs he had put in your drink, still doing their job. He smiles, as he pulls the blanket over you. Shuts the curtain of the barred up window, and with a smile as he looks back at you, closes the door. It would have been nice, if you would have come to him, but this is perfect as well. He is giddy, as he runs down to the basement, to tell Strade about what happened today.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He suppressed the instinctual snarl, the gnashing of his teeth, as another stranger bumped into him. Instead, he forced his lips into a kind smile. Holding tightly onto the mask, that let him seem like any other person in this bar. His skin was itching for blood and it had become such an overwhelming need to him, that he couldn´t tell any more if it was his instinct or his experience urging him to get blood to flow. He let his eyes sweep over the bar, when something suddenly drew all his attention. Your were just sitting there, looking at your drink as if it held all the answers to this world. Flinching away from every stranger, that would press themselves to close past you. A look of disgust openly on your face, when some would come to touch you in the process. It was almost cute to watch. Ren could feel his tail slowly swaying behind him, this could be a chance for him to pretend to be normal. After all, it looked like you wouldn´t even be able to tell the difference anyway. Something in him was still screaming for blood. It felt like a physical ache in his fangs and claws, and his ears twitched to take in every little sound you made, as he slowly stalked towards you. But there was something else as well. A ghost of someone – long dead, his heart gone – urging him forward with a gentle smile to reel you in. It wanted to see you cry. He shivered in delight as he imagined for a moment, what you would look like on your knees, face bloody and bruised, tears still streaking down your face, and mixing with your spit, as it dribbled down you chin and onto his old collar and your eyes wide as you looked only at him. He knew this would be fun, when he saw you flinch, when he greeted you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

His ears perked further up, when he heard a faint sobbing coming from your room. For a moment he wondered, if he should lock the knife away, before shutting the stove off, and simply leaving it on the cutting board. Wiping his hands on a towel, he made his way to you. Gently knocking on the door frame, he announced his presence to you, as he had already made his way halfway into the room. He ignored your muffled Go away!, and sat down next to you on the bed. There, there he hushed you, as his claws gently carded through your hair. He busied himself with pulling some of the knots out, and pulling the matted parts gently apart, completely ignoring your wince or how you tried to pull away from him. When he deemed you decently groomed – as he would sometimes term it with a laugh on his face – he dropped down onto your bed next to you. Pulling you to lay on his chest, he hugged you close. He was still petting you, as he slowly dozed off. Dinner could wait for a bit longer.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

There is doubt in his heart, whenever he sees you cry. He is sure that you are his, in every shape and form that matters, but to see you cry breaks his heart every time. Maybe it would be better, when the two of you would part ways. Maybe it would be better of he could simply watch you from far away, instead if staying constantly by your side. Or maybe he should just make sure, that you stay forever with him. Heart by heart. No matter how bloody it would be. You recognize easily, that while Ren tends to be a bit overbearing, he never seems to touch you longer than he needs to. You caught him countless times staring at your mouth, only to laugh and blush when he realizes that you noticed it. His hands only ever seem to land on skin that is covered by clothing, or at least his touch never seems to demand more. It´s strange you think, idly watching how he is staring at you again slowly licking his lips, how he never acts on his desires. Almost as if he doubts himself.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

It´s when he gently kisses your forehead, as he tucks you in for the night, that you finally realize something. For all his bluster, for all the pain he causes you, he also always turns rather quickly back into a facsimile of kindness. He amps it up for you, when ever it seems that you´re playing into his delusions. You might loose yourself in them, but you have nothing else to loose any more. So you try it. And suddenly it seems that this vicious fox is at your every beg and call. You don´t ask about the basement or the screams and he never threatens to take you down there any more. You compliment his cooking and suddenly food seems something you never seem to lack. You never step into hall for the door outside, and he wants to take you on a thousand walks. You even stop fiddling with your collar and with time forget that it´s still active. He will give you everything that he can. You shall lack nothing, not even your freedom. He is of service to you. Especially now, that he can have this soft life with you, that he had always dreamt of.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Sometimes Ren watches you with such a cold calculating look in his eyes, that you can´t help but shiver. You know, that in those moments he is debating with himself. His grin sharpening, while he flexes his claws. As if he can´t quite decide if he should rip your throat out with his fangs or his claws. As if it would matter in the end. Your blood would be on his hands either way. In the end, he will relax again. He knows, just as well as you do, that there will come another opportunity for him to let go of his pent up aggression. Another misstep of you, which allows him to have a go at you, without feeling all guilty about it afterwards. You overstepping the bounds, he always lays so carefully out for you. And if you fight back, he might even get a taste of that precious blood of yours.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He loves, loves, loves you! From the moment, he first saw you, when you so trustingly, so full of blind faith, drunk the glass he gave to you, he knew it. He knew you would be perfect for him. He wants you to be there, by his side, for the rest of your lives, and he swears to himself, that he will do whatever it takes to make sure, that he can ensure, that your paths will not lead apart. He wants you to be there so badly, that he reassures himself, that the end will surely justify the means. Though, he will still very much react to the way you treat him. He will pull get you the moon if you so much as wish for it, but he also wants to make you aware, that all of this doesn´t come for free. He wants his love to be reciprocated by you, and he makes it abundantly clear to you as well. Otherwise, he won´t mind training you like a wild animal to simply love him. Hey, if it works, it works, right?

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He had already talked with you for so long, and know he was nearly shaking with excitement. The bar was quiet, nearly deserted as was the usual for The Jackalope, and he knew nobody would watch him too closely here. He waited with bathed breath for you to finally arrive, as he had finally managed to weasel the promise of a real meeting from you. The bottle of Rohypnol in his back pocket, that he tucked away, when leaving already told him how this night would go. Tonight, he would make sure, that he wouldn´t be alone any more, that the ghost would hopefully stop hounding his every step, as another person would fill this empty house once more. He just has to be patient, just has to be careful. Buy a drink, crush one or two, and then bring it back, with an innocent smile. He could do this. His eyes snapped upwards, as an angel walked in, and a sly smirk, quickly a gentle smile curved his lips, as he stood up and waved towards you. He would do this.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Ren will, if all else fails, scare you into compliance. He will hold out for as long as he can for a relationship for the two of you, like the ones in his stories. But if it all falls through, he will be satisfied with Stockholm syndrome setting in one day. And while he stills hope for that, showing kindness to you whenever he can without undermining himself, he shudders at the other options. Sometimes, not that he would ever tell you of it, he thinks about how he could break you apart. Though, he will think of what might follow in the end. He realizes rather quickly, that he would never want to see you break. He saw it too often. How only a shell it left, a hollow puppet that doesn´t respond any more. When he looks at you, he can never imagine being satisfied like that, and so he nourishes his hope, and makes kindness is weapon. He will get what he want, without breaking you. He just has to be a bit more patient.

#yandere #yandere ren hana #yandere alphabet #xreader #boyfriend to death #btd #ren hana #yandere headcanon #btd ren #ren headcanons #ren hana x reader #yandere btd

[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.

#shalott fanfiction #yandere #btd2 #btd2 fanfiction #ren hana #ren hana x reader #I wanted to make it longer #it was longer in fact #but I really disliked the way the rest turned out #dislike is a weak word tbh lol #freaking hated it #so after like three days of trying to write an ending and deleting stuff #just gonna post it like this

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Day 5

Pairing: Ren Hana x reader

Prompt: Meloncholy

Description: How did you get caught in such a surreal situation? You can't help but feel terrible, so much so that you end up crying. But, your new best friend Ren is here to help!

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: Past kidnapping, imprisonment, non con touching (nonsexual), mentions of hurting reader, collars, ask to tag

Word Count: 872

Notes: Ren is my FAV from bytd I would actually let his do anything to me. Even if I am like, way taller than him. He can be my short king any day sdfjldfkj have I mentioned all these have been written in a row? Thank u queue its 10:30 rn After I get "caught up" these might be longer but I aint forcing nothing

You couldn’t help but settle heavy in the bed given to you, dread and fear weighing you down to the nice duvet under you. You can’t help but curl your fingers into it as you stare out the window, to the winter storm raging outside. You reach up to touch the collar around your neck your body shivers at the memory of electricity running though you.

How did you get into this mess? All you had wanted was a night out but… Ren and that other man… the drinks… being chased and… Ending up here.

You had really wanted to believe he helped you. He was nothing but sweet and polite, so you wanted to return that generosity but… the anklet. The collar you still wore. That he tested on you. This could only end badly for you, couldn’t it? But you had to be brave in the face of this, this…

You feel your eyes tear up. You really don’t want to cry, not now. He was some sort of fox; he would probably hear you sobbing from where ever he went off too but… you can’t help it, your stresses piling up until your fit to burst, leaving you in the little tears that stream down your face. It isn’t long before you’re downright bawling, shoving your face into the too nice pillow in a feeble attempt to muffle your voice.

Obviously, it doesn’t work and it isn’t long before you hear the undeniable sound of feet bounding down the stairs. You attempt to collect yourself in vain, but Ren is upon you before you’re even done rubbing your tired eyes.

“_____? Is everything okay?” His voice is so soft, so very sweet. As if he’s not the cause of all your problems.

“I-I’m sorry…!” You blubber out, scared he might do something else to hurt you. “I-I just…” It isn’t long before you burst into another fit of tears.

“H-hey it’s okay!” You jump as you feel his arms slither around your waist. Ren doesn’t let you go, though, merely pulls you closer into his embrace. “I know you’re probably a little confused… but I’ll take care of you, I promise!” He coos. “You don’t have anything to worry about, okay?” His words provide little comfort to you but you try to convince yourself to calm down regardless, taking slow deep breathes to even your breathing and hopefully stop sobbing.

“There you go, easy…” He hums as you take another shuddering breath. “What’s got you all sad for buddy?” he asks softly, laughing gently. You consider your words carefully.

“I-I’m just… not used to this place, is all.” You mumble softly. It wasn’t a complete lie, but you weren’t sure if it was enough to convince him. “I um, still sleep with a lot of stuffed animals and plushies so… I guess I just got a little lonely here by myself.” You admit softly.

“Oh, is that it?” Ren laughs softly. “If it would make you feel better… I could stay with you?” Your eyes widen at his proposition. Was that an offer you could even say no to? “I’ll even bring down one of my favorite plushies for you, hold on!” Before you can even think to argue, he’s racing off again, up the stairs. It’s silent a moment before you can hear him charging back down, pushing right into your door.

Triumphantly, he hold up something round. In the dark of your room it’s hard to make out but… “Is that a pusheen plush?” You ask softly.

“It is!” He grins, climbing back on the bed and handing it to you. It was covered in… orange fur, you noted, but it was impossible to mistake. You had this same plush back home… It was one of your favorites to cuddle to sleep. “She’s one of my favorites, but I think you need her more than I do.” He gives you a grin, his features softening as he looks at you.

“That’s really sweet of you…” You can’t help but mumble, holding her closely. “I had a plush just like this one, so… yeah.” You don’t know what else to say, look away from him. You definitely feel better then the minutes before but spending time with Ren felt strange. Like you shouldn’t be as relaxed as you feel.

“I’m glad you think so. I just want you to be comfortable here. With me.” The smile he gives you has an edge to it, his voice sweet with a sharpness. “So… don’t hesitate to trust me, okay?” It’s as if he read your mind. Or maybe perhaps, was questioning your motives.

“I… won’t.” You answer softly, laying down in the bed with the plushie protectively held to your chest. You go under the covers and mumble out. “Good night, Ren.” This time, you openly squeal as you feel his hands circle around your waist. He happily cuddled up to you, tail and legs wrapping around your own and head nuzzled atop yours.

“Night _____. Rest well.” His whispered voice in your ear causes you to shiver. You can’t help but think that you’ve only gotten yourself into a worse situation than the one you found yourself in before…

#minors dni #btd ren #btd ren hana #18+ #ren hana x reader #ren x reader #btd 2 #outing myself as gross #just wait it gets worse :)

[mothwingwritings]

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

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

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

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

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

I hope you all enjoy! ˘³˘

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

➽───────────────❥

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

#mason got a little bear kaomoji at the end of his and no one else got that so hes the special boy of this post. :) #boyfriend to death x reader #boyfriend to death x y/n #the price of flesh x reader #the price of flesh x y/n #ren hana x reader #ren hana x y/n #strade x y/n #btd strade x reader #strade x reader #btd strade x y/n #ykmet strade x reader #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence oleander x y/n #celia lede x reader #celia lede xy/n #derek goffard x reader #derek goffard x y/n #Mason heiral x reader #mason heiral x y/n #tpof reader insert #btd reader insert #tpof x reader #tpof x y/n #dark fic #tpof imagines #btd imagines #boyfriend to death imagines #the price of flesh imagines #thank you all for reading

[hilkaro]

I've played through the DLC for TPoF countless times. Eventually, after some time, I unlocked an achievement I had no idea existed - called Real Simp. I completely forgot about it, but when I wanted to play the game again next time, alongside the memelord mode, another one called Simp Mode appeared. I turned it on, and OH MY GOD, IT COMPLETELY CHANGES THE GAMEPLAY! I don't know about other characters, but with Fox, everything is better.

At the beginning, of course, there's the auction where you beg the announcer to take you every time you have the chance. Then you wake up in a bunker, and that's when the real rollercoaster begins. From my experience, I can immediately say that Chat doesn't matter at all, only Fox's points matter. I'll give you a brief walkthrough in case you haven't unlocked it yet.

Warning: spoilers ahead!

You wake up in the bunker, it's dark, you're tied up. You make noise and catch Fox's attention. Nothing changes here, but your thought process is… significantly different. Someone is in front of me. I focus my gaze and see my favorite beastkin. He looks great, only he wears a mask covering his handsome facial features. Too bad, a great pity.

Fox asks how you feel and if you remember anything. You get several options, including a new one to click on: I meant your bedroom. This leads to a dialogue: You: (sigh), I don't want to be rude, I really appreciate that you fulfilled my request and took me, but I meant your bedroom more than this musty basement. He is silent for a moment, looking at you, then bursts into laughter.

It's the standard text about not worrying because you made the choice to be his co- star. You look around, see cameras, he says no one has ever asked to go with him before. Then you notice the lingerie he chose for you, praise it, and he's happy, standard. For a while, nothing changes; you choose the option to Stay quiet, then Put it back. Fox turns to the cameras and talks to Chat.

This wasn't what I expected from our first night. I'm a little disappointed, you think bitterly.

Let's move on to the foot and there's a slight difference here. Fox: She's gotten nice and wet… What do you think Chat? You (smiling weakly): I'm nice and wet, not only there But Fox rudely interrupts you by sticking his finger into your wound.

Still nothing changes. When you get a choice, you click on Beg him to stop. He cuts you with a knife until you bleed, you cry, standard. At WoundFucker's request, Fox starts choking you, but before you choose the Please, I don't want to die option. He chokes you with a cable until you pass out, then he smashes your face on the concrete, great.

The next game is a gun blowjob and here you have to click Obey confidently, because this time Fox forgot to do the poll. So you do your thing, looking deep into his eyes, he touches himself , nice time. Everyone is impressed by your skills, so you survive, but it's not over yet, because the icing on the cake awaits you. AND THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. Once Fox holds your poor eyelids, a new narrative emerges. I know well what will happen next…. And you can select the Open Mouth option, but it only lasts for a few seconds, so you have to be quick. Once you manage to click it, this appears: I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. He must be surprised by my reaction, because the grip of his claws on my head weakens and I manage to squeeze my eyes shut at the last moment, just before his cum lands all over my face and hair. But not in DAMN EYE! Fox is a bit surprised, ends the stream and you pass out from blood loss.

You wake up in a cell. He speaks to you with ordinary words. You look around and express the hope that now that you've performed so well, Fox will finally take you to his home. He just laughs and states that you now work for him. He's about to leave when you stop him and choose the option: Please stay, I don't want to be alone. Fox tilts his head, with a half-smile, remains silent for a moment, and exits without a word.

Then, you sit in the cell and contemplate. All narratives about the eye are, of course, omitted. You worry that perhaps you didn't try hard enough, considering Ren didn't want to take you home. Since you care so much about him, you decide to give it your all the next time you see each other.

Finally, they come to you. You dress up in a sexy mesh outfit and decide firmly that you'll survive this stream too. When given the option, you choose: Please go easy on me, and Fox likes it. He's about to start when someone asks: What happened to her? And Fox tells and shows everything. Fortunately, your eye is intact.

You move on to the soldering game, and when he asks you, you confidently reply that it's a soldering gun. You're not stupid, duh. Fox burns a heart on your back, and when he shows it on the camera, you comment aloud: You: Wow, it looks great, much better than a tattoo. Fox: I'm glad I fit into your tastes, darling.

Then you let him set up your arm without any protests, standard.

And the sex scene. Not much changes here except when Ren wants to put a tentacle dildo in your mouth, you have a time-limited chance to click: Open your mouth. Probably just to score points with Fox. Of course, while you're at it, you're pushing against him with all your might, in fact, you've been dreaming about him fucking you. It's a bit shame to be in front of the camera and with that collar with needles, but you don't complain, you take what they give you.

After everything, perhaps the biggest change. Because there's no longer an eye operation. Instead, there's a game with a nail gun for questions and answers. The first question is, of course, about Fox's name, and here, a window appears WHERE YOU CAN TYPE YOUR OWN ANSWER! There's no other option; you type REN HANA, all in capital letters, because you're so excited to finally let it out at this moment. He looks at you carefully, averts his gaze, and… shoots!! Shocking. Here, I think there may be several reasons for doing so. Firstly, theoretically,you don't have the right to know his name as MC, and maybe it unsettled him, put him on high alert or something. Or it could be an option that it was a warning shot. Ren didn't want to reveal his identity to Chat. Generally, the matter is a bit strange because if you answer all the questions correctly, he shoots a nail into the middle of our forehead, killing you. Okay. Some sample questions: What is today's date?, Whose father is my most loyal patron? And the question about the last letter of the alphabet, but it's time-limited. If you answer this incorrectly, Fox mocks you. After this wonderful game, you are forced to remove the nail from your body, which is quite painful but concludes the second show. You lose consciousness.

You have various dreams, when a touch wakes you up. Fox strokes your head. The beginning of the conversation is the same, there are no texts about the eye prosthesis because you have that eye. You ask: Why are you helping me? He explains that Chat loves you, but it is picky, and you may not survive for long. You relax and gaze at him, and he points out that it's not very polite. You ask, Who did this to you? He responds in the usual way. But your reaction is different. You: Are you sure? Fox: About what? You: That if it weren't for that person, you would be in exactly the same place doing exactly the same thing as now? Fox measures you with a probing look from half-closed lids and says it's time for him. Then you have the option to click: Hug him. You do it, and he looks at you surprised. You ask him not to leave yet because you don't want to be alone. He also lightly hugs you and strokes your head. After some time, you drift away.

And the ending. THE BEST.

You wake up in a bright room. Apparently, someone's bedroom. You feel an electric collar around your neck. Fox appears, wrapped only in a towel, wet hair, bangs falling on his forehead. He pins you to the wall, his eyes glowing, and says: I decided to keep you for myself. You're mine.

#shitpost #it's not real guys #just my imagination #i need to stop #im sorry #the price of flesh #tpof announcer #tpof fox #tpof ren #ren hana x reader #long reads #visual novel

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Title: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Synopsis: Fox wants you in just the right costume for his party.

For Horrorfest request:

Fox making his darling try on different "sexy" Halloween costumes

Word Count: 1291

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, a bit of humiliation/degradation, descriptions of previous injuries including eye gouging, questionable taste in Halloween costumes

You didn’t know you could feel anything like shame anymore, but there it was, red-hot, covering your cheeks, not unlike a thin, sticky layer of latex that you couldn’t peel off yourself. 

Speaking of--

“Turn around,” Fox murmurs, idly swirling his glass of champagne while you swiftly obey his words. 

You turn ever so slowly, because you know what’s what he wants to see. You imagine you’re a doll in a music box, sans music and static ballerina pose, spinning slowly enough to let him get a look at his newest handiwork. 

The skin-tight latex cat costume does wonders in keeping your movements slow as well, but you try to ignore that part and stay in the music box metaphorical fantasy. 

He sighs lowly--your stomach roils--and shakes his head. 

“No, not quite right.”

He gives you another once-over, and you must be frowning, because he continues in a casually reassuring tone. “Not that you don’t look lovely, but it’s not what I want for tonight.” What he wants, in this case, is unclear. You’ve already tried on 3 different costumes, and he didn’t care for any of them. 

He gestures with his free hand at your hand, and you dutifully remove the latex cat ears (that matched your outfit, of course) and hand them over. 

He sets them on the table and beckons you over.You eagerly scamper over, turning away from him; you really did need help removing the thin layer of latex. At least he does it swiftly, though you feel a veneer of sweat on your back when he begins to peel it away. He continues pulling it down until you lift each of your legs, stepping out of the tight concoction with a visible sigh of relief. 

There’s a warm chuckle behind you, and you shiver when you feel his nails lightly raking down your back. 

When he stands and makes his way over to the long costume rack that one of his employees brought in, you follow. He thumbs through them, humming, pulling a few out now and then.

He pulls out a black and white lacy concoction, something that looks like the type of clothing people world in olden days. A big felt sword hangs off the flimsy top and there’s a large tricorn hat attached to the hanger, and it takes you a moment to realize what the costume is meant to be. 

A pirate.

He smiles, but you don’t. Your empty eye socket suddenly aches and your lip trembles. Which just makes him grin a little.

“Too on the nose, huh?” He taps his finger above your eye patch, a neutral black cloth for now. Fox said he wanted to pick your costume before they went about choosing what prosthetic or patch to give you. 

You suppose he wants you to care that he’s taking the time to find you the right costume, that he wants you to be appreciative that he’s putting so much effort into it. And when you suppose what he wants,  you do your best to fulfill it. That’s how you’ve made it this far.

So you look closer every time you think he might be choosing a costume and you try (pirate mistake notwithstanding) to mimic his reactions. This one is cute, mm-hmm. That one won’t do, nuh-uh. 

Maybe you would be appreciative, maybe even a bit excited about the idea of getting to dress up on Halloween, if you weren’t dreading tonight. You were going to attend a Halloween party with him. Thrown by him. Populated by the guests he chose. 

You weren’t putting on a show (that fear had already been cooingly whisked away, the moment you broke down into seizure-like sobs at the thought) but you would be… on display. 

Like a pet. No, no, that’s not entirely right, is it? You are a pet. You’ve got the collar to prove it. 

What would the people at the party be like? As bad as the ones who watched the show? Worse, because they were there in person and not just through a screen? Maybe some of them would be the same… would any of them recognize you? Would they hurt you? Would Fox let them hurt you? What if--

“Ah! This one!” He says, pulling you out of your heavy thoughts. There’s a glint of excitement in his voice that makes the tension in your stomach ease off. 

When he gets excited like this, it’s a good sign. Usually it’s related to finding out that you like some of the same things as him (you genuinely enjoyed, at least as much as you could, curling up on a sofa and watching anime with him) or you surprising him in a way that pleases him.

Sometimes he seems younger when he gets like this, more carefree. There’s a pang of envy when that happens, but you never let it last too long. 

He pulls out the costume he’s chosen and shoves it into your waiting, slightly trembling, arms. You don’t even have time to really see what he chose. 

“Quick now.” He flashes a muted grin. “The guests will arrive soon enough. Don’t want to be late for your first party.” 

You don’t waste time getting dressed. The end result, when you stand up and let him zip up the back of the costume, is cuter than you expected. It’s a mouse costume, a short little gray number with a black tail hanging off the edge. The costume covers your ass enough that as long as you don’t bend over, you should be fine.

 (You try not to think of ways that Fox might make you bend over in front of others. But then, he didn’t like it much when others were around you, so maybe he didn’t want you to show off more than necessary? The questions are really too difficult to consider for long.)

The finishing touch is a big pair of cutesy gray mouse ears that he tenderly places on your head. It’s the type of costume that you might have worn on a night out with friends, before. Though you’d have worn something else underneath, and you’d definitely still have two eyes. 

Still. It’s better than the tight catsuit. 

And you look... cute. If you ignore the missing eye, and the scars on your face. And the cauterized nail wounds dotting your body. And the cross-cross of scars, old and new, lining your arms and legs.

These are all things you have gradually forced yourself to ignore, so yes, you can put them aside and appreciate the way that the mouse ears frame your face or the way that the costume is made from nice materials.

You can ignore the hungry gaze of Fox standing behind you, keeping his eyes on your own as you stare at your reflection.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, standing behind you and looking at the finished product through your reflection. In the mirror, you see him place a kiss on your neck. Your body recognizes what will happen before your brain does, because your shoulder tenses even before he bites your skin harshly, lapping at the blood he leaves behind. 

“We can leave the patch as-is,” he says. You’re too busy staring at your reflection to answer. Maybe he takes it for being pouty, because he continues.  “Unless you want one of your prosthetics tonight?” 

How nice of him to ask, you think, and your heart feels sick when you realize the thought came without a trace of sarcasm. You’re really fucked up, huh?

You shake your head and give a little smile, looking at him in the mirror.

“No,” you say, voice meeker than you meant it to be. “Whatever you think looks best, sir.” 

He smiles, just a little. An intimate smile, a you’re-being-good smile, the kind you think (you hope) he reserves just for moments like this. And then he places a tender kiss on your bite wound. Bits of red stick to his lips and he licks them away, sighing low and almost husky. 

You know this sound, these gestures, the way his breath quickens and comes out of his nose. You feel two hands grope your ass and you squeak, like the mouse you might as well be. 

“I suppose it won’t hurt if we’re a little late… it is my party after all.”

#yandere ren hana #ren hana x reader #the price of flesh #tpof #tpof ren #yandere #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest

[vetitiscripta]

i wanna see ren grow horrified when he realizes mc only follows instruction because theyre literally being controlled by strade. i want to see him question it all and maybe even lose it a bit when he realizes mc hadn't acted alone. and most of the violence had been the same man he'd let bleed out that day on the ground. i want to see how bad that takes a toll on his mind.

anon your mind. mentally kissing you on the mouth anon

for those who missed it- this is regarding my ghost strade au

for this au, i like to think that strade can really only interact/“control” mc in certain moments, probably something like due to strong emotions (take that as you will 😏) or whatever

but god!! ren thinking that mc genuinely wants to do this type of stuff or hang out with him of their own free will only to find out its all because of strade. he would start thinking about everything that has happened and would wonder if any of it was genuine

he’d think about the time he found you late at night on the couch, watching one of strade’s old snuff films. he thought that you had finally understood, had come to appreciate the beauty of it all like he had. he cuddled with you on the couch as you put on another one on. (you had woken up that night in a cold sweat, an intense urge to watch one. strade stood in the corner of your room just watching you, smile on his face every time you looked at him. you tried to ignore the urge, ignore him, but it eventually wore you down. you trudged down the stairs and stood in front of the dvds, letting strade pick the one he wanted. you watched 3 films before ren found you, your tears already dried)

he’d remember the time you willingly slept in the same bed with him for the first time. it was late at night and he was trying to find an anime to watch when you softly knocked on his door. when he opened the door you were basically shaking, eyes darting around. “can i sleep with you tonight?” ren was over the moon when you asked, basically had hearts in his eyes (he’s down bad don’t make fun of him). he thinks you’ve come around, you finally see that you love him like he loves you. he happily welcomes you in his bed, arms wrapped around you so tight you fear he may snap you in half, anime playing in the background as you both fall asleep. (strade wouldn’t leave you alone that day. he was constantly around you, pestering you. sometimes he would just hover over your shoulder, watching your every movement, other times he would be telling you stories, the things he did and how he did them. every waking moment was spent with strade, you were so tired. you were happy when it was finally night and you could sleep. but then you felt the bed dip and felt hands on your legs, slowing inching their way up. you shot out of bed faster than ever and made your way to ren’s room. swallowing your pride for the night would be better than dealing with strade for another 5 minutes)

the encounter with lawrence was a staple in your relationship, you two were brought together since then (he believed) and he was so happy with you, he knows that he you were meant to be his

the day you tell him everything, he seems to crumble. he’s frozen as you tell him everything, fear on his face. he wanted to believe it was a joke, a bad joke that he could punish you for but you knew too much for it to be a coincidental joke. you were crying at the end of it, overwhelmed by everything that had been going on, and ren felt close to tears himself

he thought he was done with strade. sure his body is in the basement freezer, but he was no longer controlled by him, strade had no power over him anymore. (he might be lying to himself on that, he tries to be what strade was, tries to fill the empty feeling he got when he watched strade die)

and now you’re telling him that strade is still here just as a ghost? that strade was watching everything? that strade still had control?

i think that ren would try to regain control, would try to show that strade might still be around, but he is in charge now. he’d shock you before you can comprehend what he’s doing and you would wake up in the basement, tied to the pole. ren stood over you, knife in hand. strade stood just behind him, biggest smile you have ever seen on his face. you focused back on ren as he crouched down, “is he here?” you looked back up at strade before nodding. “good” a glint of metal caught your eye as ren brought the knife to your skin

#anon ask #boyfriend to death #btd #ghost strade au #ren hana #btd ren #btd strade #btd x reader #ren hana x reader #strade x reader #(kind of implied kind of not can be read either way tbh)

[moss-bride]

The lie of human kindness Chapt:3 sneak peak

This poor idiot that had the misfortune of meeting him

Her body is resting on the bed but she's not inside it. The throbs of her face and limbs are distant things she only feels when she's close to 'waking', so she sleeps instead. Not caring of the time.

In the early days she stares at a corner as a man (the doctor she assumes) wraps her hands and checks her minced sides before leaving. 

They picked glass out of her face and laid thick white gauze with medical precision. Smelling like rubbing alcohol and roses.

Underlying infection.

  The doctor had tried to get her to talk about her wounds. (what hurts? Can you hear me?) She remains silent. Frozen over. It's a shell to protect her soul especially when the red head appears and does so very often. 

When she first woke up pressed to his chest she hadn't had the energy to push him away. And now continues to lay limp, existing as a far off threat in her head. Dreamy dangers to a stranger. But in some capacity she is there, a ghost in the room.

Bites of words come through the fog. A confused mess that clears nothing.

Surfing through radio static to find the right station

"When-"

"..infection-"

"-matic response.."

"..locked in…"

None of the words interest her so she turns it off and floats.

She doesn't want to be present when he snaps.

He shook off the exterior of a gentleman so easily that she felt at any moment he could break character and return to the cruel beast that ravaged her.

Her teacher and friend. It wasn't long ago he had brought her coffee one stressful morning at their meeting, a moment that self doubt consumed her, saying to not be so hard on herself. She had taken the cup and looked into his smiling face, silently swearing that she wouldn't fall farther into his eyes.

But she now knows what lies under the surface, the hellfire in gold. Never to be fooled again by the charming devil. 

It's amazing to be conscious and unconscious because she doesn't have to feel any pain. Doesn't have to deal with the aftermath of rape and torture or the wrap that tightly preses her eye.

She mostly lives in flashes of the past. Drinking of lemonade and the bite of a red strawberry. Her first painting sale online. Her rejection from art school. 

But time in this haze is ending and she gradually begins to feel her fingertips twitching, she's becoming aware.

A man is reading aloud. Books or news on his phone. Her head is on his lap so she has no choice but to look up at him as he brushes her hair until it's no longer tangled.

nails sharp they stroke curls into a silk cap around her head.

A touch of thumb on her cheekbone, murmuring gently, stuff that doesn't matter but she swears the slender hand trembles.

Take me back. I want to dream. Take me back 

The man does this same pose everytime he comes to visit. And if she can't heard it she might have continued her semi comatose state.

But then he tells her his true name. 

It feels like years that she's been in this stasis of slow decay when he breaks off reading to gaze at her with a haunted look.

"My name is Ren Hana." and that echoes for some reason, piercing deep in her addled mind. The name to the monster is ordinary. Not a word from a grimoire that would magically conjure up fortune or monsters but words like any other.

Ren… she's filling back her body. Flexing pinky. Ring finger. Thumb. Wrist. Ren…The silence between them is shattered by a voice that she can hardly recognize as her own. "Why?" she rasps. Throat tingling unpleasantly at the sound

#x reader #the price of flesh #ren hana #dead dove fic #ren hana x reader

[the7thheroine]

Inspired by their Ren hana fanfic where the reader was a stripper @6robotmonster6 go check them out.

Ren hana x Stripper soulmate au

(If your soulmate tries to injure you, it doesn’t work and instead the wound will close right back up as if nothing happened)

As you sat in the changing room, adjusting your costume and fixing your makeup, you could hear the other girls chattering around you about the new owner who had bought out the club recently as of last night alongside the loud bass blasting music outside the door.

“He’s a beast skin! A fox at that too.”

“I heard he’s apart of a human trafficking ring and does some live streams with the people he takes!”

“I heard he’s into some pretty twisted stuff…”

“Im going try and score with him. he gave the girls last night a generous tip. Just for a chat and a kiss! He’s definitely got some cash on him to share out.” Cut in ‘Angel’ putting down her makeup brush before standing up and stretching, throwing you a wink making kissing gestures.

She was one of the most booked dancer and was the old club owners favourite dancer considering her devilish personality. She was sly, always managing to twist the customers into giving her more money, you would consider her a friend if you weren’t constantly competing to get the most customers and money.

You look up at her, she never usually is enthusiastic about performing, so maybe this guy was a serious donor. “Have fun. I’m on the pole for awhile then I’m on the private rooms for an hour.” You chimed in before standing up and doing up your heels.

She turned back to you offering a quick wink. “Be careful alright? Your the new meat and that makes you naive.” She called laughing. “Says you! Your trying to score with a gang leader in human trafficking.” You rolled your eyes. Walking away.

As you walked in you couldn’t help but take a look at the people around the stage. Angel had already made her move and was sat under the arm of the new boss who seemed… very short. The only feature you could see that gave away the beast skin was his eyes and sharp claws that were caressing angels leg and his amber eyes keeping a close eye on her as if she was his prey. Around the both of them sat a circle of fancy, established business men. Many who had seemed to develop… excitement from angels appearance. You couldn’t help but shiver in disgust.

Walking towards the stages you couldn’t help but let your mind wonder. Many of the people who came to the clubs in the city did not have soulmates and were almost always soulmateless or had yet to meet the one they would call their own. It’s not like people actively search out their soulmate by hurting others.. right?

Just before you could reach the pole however to begin your performance, you heard the sound of a cry. “What the fuck is the matter with you?! my leg!” Angel had stood up swaying from left to right, her hand tightly over the flesh of her leg that had been ripped up by the man.

“Well isn’t that a shame.. I’m sure you can get that patched up!” The man smiled, licking his claws where the blood laid slowly dripping. You couldn’t help but shudder.A few girls had made their way over, two supporting Angel to help her into the back room to clean up. “Fuck you! Oh my god my leg how am I supposed to dance!” She cried out as weight was placed on her injured leg.

“Well aren’t you fiery! I’d be careful how you speak to me if you want to keep your life and job.” He chuckled slowly turning around to the now silent club. “isn’t this a great time to introduce myself! As many of you ladies and gents now know I am the new owner of this club.” He smiled and took off his hat pressing it to his chest. On his head laid two fox ears and a head of orange and silver hair.

His eyes traced over the girls before landing swiftly on you. He stood up making his way over to you before shaking an arm around your waist pulling you into his chest “Of course I won’t be running things like your old boss and there will be a few adjustments to the performances to suit the performances for my taste.. but I’m sure you dancers won’t mind as we both have in common our love for performances!” He smirked turning towards you.

You couldn’t help but blink. Did… did he want you to answer? Slowly a fake smile graced your face. “Of course sir we would be happy to do so for you.” You slowly tried to pull away from him, but his grip did not let up. “Huh.. you didn’t sound to enthusiastic sweetheart. I’ll give you another try.” His eyes has seemed to loose its twinkle and had taken on a predatory look.

“I.. Uhmm.. yes sir! We would be grateful for you to change the way it runs and would be happy to serve you!” You tried to smile wider but your nerves from his threat made if fall lopsided and your voice to gain an edge and start to shake.

He tutted, “you don’t sound to pleased, and here I had heard you were one of the best dancers and employees. I think I’ll have to let you go. I gave you a chance and you fucked it up.” His arm tightened around your waist as he raised his other hand up. You writhed and cried trying to escape his hold begging him. “ Please! I’ll do anything! Don’t do this-” his hand slashed over your stomach twice with his nails, creating multiple wounds. You screamed in agony falling to the floor. Oh god.. is this how you will die? In some dingy club on the floor after you couldn’t please your impatient owner? You could hear the girls screaming and the stunned audience whispering. Many of the goons in delight of the blood, some fancy business men in disgust from the lack of show.

“Well.. isn’t this is a twist for the night!” You heard him say. You looked up. You didn’t feel light headed Anymore.. you couldn’t feel your blood or guts spilling out. Slowly, looking at your stomach where the gashes had once laid, they were closed up. The blood still stained the carpet and your costume. But you weren’t bleeding out. You weren’t dead.

You felt two pairs of strong hands pull you up and place your arms behind your back.

He was watching you, a look mixed with love and obsession covered him face. “It seems as if I’ve found my other half.. don’t worry your all mine and you won’t be performing anymore.” His bloody claws reached up caressing your cheek slowly before he leaned in pressing a kiss to your forehead. You tried not to flinch as he pulled away, signalling the guards to take you out the door.

And as your pulled away you can hear the muffled barking off orders to round up all the dancers who witnessed the crime and to have them sent out and replaced by next week.

#Ren hana #Ren #boyfriend to death 2 #boyfriend to death #the price of flesh #tpof #btd #soulmate au #Ren hana x Reader #Ren hana/Reader #fox price of flesh #fox x reader