#you kill me every time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mothwingwritings · 3 months

Text

Release

F!Reader X Ren Hana

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you for reading!

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

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

“I promise Ren. I’ll be good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a certain point, love began to blossom.

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

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

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

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

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

“… Ren?”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so glad I made you mine.”

136 notes · View notes

hiskillingjar · 10 months

Text

we love only the person we can eat

Relationship: Strade/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Amputation, Love Confessions Length: 4600+ words:

Summary: “For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat [...] Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up.”

Hélène Cixous (1998) Stigmata: Escaping Texts. pg. 78.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48093946

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you think.

It should make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, it should feel like butterflies fluttering in your tummy, it should feel like safety, security, warmth and worship. It should be a feeling of girlish innocence and infatuation, bunny rabbits and taking the first steps past the gates of Disney World.

It shouldn’t feel like a virus or a disease that made your insides turn into poisonous mush and bile and spit, and threaten to spill out of you in a puddle of toxic vomit every time you opened your mouth.

It shouldn’t feel like your stomach and your brain were itching with insects and creepy-crawlies, maggots and worms, turning and squirming in your guts and never letting you feel a moment of stillness.

It shouldn’t feel like a life-encompassing obsession that convinced you that he would stop caring about you or even stop existing altogether if you stopped looking at him, stopped talking about him, stopped thinking about him, for even a second.

It shouldn’t feel like this.

But then again, you’re not sure if you even really felt love before this, before he saw you at the bar and took you for his own.

So maybe, this was exactly how love was supposed to feel.

“Ah…there you are. You’re waking up.”

It wasn’t often that you let yourself be underneath him, let yourself be taken so willingly, bare skin against skin. It wasn’t often that you allowed such a deliberate invasion of your space or exposure of your innermost vulnerabilities.

Not like you had much of a choice.

That night, you felt sluggish and slow and heavy, like you had a ton of weight strapped around your neck that kept your hazy eyes locked towards the ceiling, your neck pinned down to the bed. The pain you traditionally associated with being awake and living was replaced by an overwhelming numbness, so much so that it made your body feel cold and still, like a living corpse.

You assumed that your sluggishness was probably due to the drugs in your system. Strade was always pretty sloppy when it came to chemicals.

Not that you could blame him, though. He was more of a hands-on kind of guy, after all.

"Hey, buddy," He said with a slight tilt of his head, a playful lilt to his voice as he peered down, a slow smile spreading on his face as he considered you with a hungry twinkle in his golden eyes. "You doing okay? You were out of it for a while."

"Ngh," You attempted to speak, to make some kind of vocalisation (in either agreement or disagreement, you weren’t quite sure), but your tongue felt as heavy as your head did, loose and lousy behind your teeth, inside your skull.

He chuckled affectionately as he knelt up on the bed, the mattress dipping low underneath his weight (he had packed it on in the last couple of years since things had slowed down on his end of running the streams), pushing a hand through your hair. He wasn't gripping it just yet, he wasn't hurting you (a surprise in its own right), as he gently urged your head forward, your neck straight, and your eyes to meet his.

"Ah, I think I gave you too much sedative." He mused thoughtfully, raising his other hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing over your parted lips where a thin stream of drool was running down your chin, down your neck. "Whoops. My bad, I guess." He then said with a laugh. “You know me. I’m lousy with anything stronger than chloroform.”

In a moment of uncharacteristic gentleness (maybe he was in an especially good mood tonight), Strade started to kiss your cheek, down your neck, across your collarbone, practically doting on you and making your slack body tremble and shiver.

"I mean, I didn't have to sedate you," He then said with a casual shrug, giving your cheek (a smear of wet still clinging to your skin from his kiss) a few light taps, as if he was trying to wake you up from a deep slumber, wake you from your sluggish fatigue. "That was just me being nice, really. So I think a thank you is well deserved…”

He then brought his face closer to yours for a moment, raising a single brow with a silent question. A quiet reminder of just how dangerous he was capable of being, if he wanted to be.

“Don’t you?” He then said, his voice low.

“Mm,” You hummed, giving your head a little shake as you tried to kick yourself out of your sluggish daze and be as lively as he wanted you to be (and you were getting so tired of being lively). “T…thank you…”

“You’re welcome.”

His smile lines were deeper than they once were, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled and softened handsomely as he smiled, in a way they didn’t when you first met.

He was aging gracefully, he didn’t even have a single grey hair yet, and he had given you the privilege of aging alongside him. You could only guess the number of people who hadn’t been given such a privilege.

“Why did you sedate me?” You then asked, though your words were more of a mumble than anything else, your tongue still heavy behind your teeth.

"Oh, I wanted to do something special.” He replied, his voice a touch softer than usual as his smile softened too. “It’s our big day, after all.” He traced a thick finger along the curve of your jaw, down your neck, tracing the line that he had previously kissed. “I mean, it's kind of like an anniversary, don't you think, fräulein ? Seven years is an awfully long time for two people to be together. We ought to celebrate it."

Together.

He said the word so easily.

He implied a togetherness, a quasi-relationship that wasn’t built off a sadomasochistic need for fear and pain that was so terrifying and obscure and truly sublime in the most Gothic sense of the word, with such conviction that you were almost certain that he was joking, that he was teasing you.

And you were so easy to tease. You and your wide-eyed hopes, your romantic dreams, your tragically romantic books that depicted darkness and lightness in tandem, your cheesy romcoms that he bought for you and made fun of.

Together.

Were you?

He took a quiet moment to consider you further, his fingertips brushing tenderly over every scar that marred your shoulders, your chest, your barely exposed sternum, every cut, scrape or bruise, with such care and compassion despite him being the cause of the majority of them.

“I think we’re worth celebrating,” He brought his face close to yours, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth as his big hands mapped the span of your body as if he was trying to devote it to his memory, like he was afraid of possibly losing it. “ You’re worth celebrating.”

Really, when he spoke like that and touched you with a gentleness he never showed to anyone else ( because you’re special, you’re special, you’re special, that’s why he kept you, that’s why you were still alive ) , it's no wonder that you were keening up against him (the best you could), chasing his mouth with your own, wanting to be so close to him that your bodies merged together.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you think.

But you don’t want any other kind of love anymore.

Finally, he brought his mouth to yours in a deep kiss, one strong hand cupping your cheek, his grubby nails digging into the soft flesh as the other reached down and dug into your hip, groping and squeezing. When you gasped against his lips, he took the opportunity to press his tongue into your mouth, suffocating and all-consuming, and your eyes rolled back into your skull as you let yourself be so thoroughly invaded.

If it were possible for him to consume you, wholly, you would have let him, you think.

You knew that impulse came from something fucked up and Freudian, a wanting to be consumed by a man you should have hated but loved so deeply and intimately that it made you want to throw up, but that didn’t stop you from yearning for it.

You yearned for Strade to devour you with his sharp cannibal teeth , to tear flesh and muscle, to rupture skin and fat, and be devoured himself, in the truest sense of the word, in the unity of shared skin, bones, body, and blood.

But, because he couldn’t devour you (not in the literal, all-consumptive sense, at least), you, instead, pulled away from the kiss, raised your head, and bit his collar-bone to fill that violent yearning that haunted every dream and waking nightmare, marring his skin with rough indentations and pinpricks of blood welling at the surface of his tan skin.

Strade didn't mind.

“Ngh, scheiße !” He sucked in a pained hiss through his teeth, though that didn’t stop a dangerous grin from coming to his face as you dug your teeth in even deeper. “Ah…ahhh, little devil, this is how you want to play, ja?”

If anything, the pain made him all the more excited as he growled out his arousal and pressed himself even closer to you with another firm and invasive kiss, his cock hard through his slacks and rubbing against the soft mound of your cunt through your shorts, open and weeping and already begging to be stuffed to the very brim with his cock.

Gasping your own arousal against the deep kiss, your thighs parted with an unspoken invitation as you reached up (with shaking hands, the sedative hadn’t worn off just yet) to yank his shirt open, popped buttons shooting aside, and push it down his shoulders and his arms.

Despite the weight gain, and his general lack of strenuous activity as he had gotten older, Strade’s arms were still strong and well-defined (the strength gained from years of lugging around dead bodies didn’t go away that quickly, it seemed). You allowed yourself an ever-indulgent moment to stroke up and down them, feeling the warmth of his tan skin, the slick of the sweat clinging to him, and reveling that he was alive, he was real, you could touch him.

“So needy,” He teased with another grin, his words whispered against your parted, kiss-bitten lips as your shaking fingers traced over his tattoo, stripe-stripe-arrow (you’d never even asked what it meant). “You’re so desperate for me, fräulein. You never change.”

As he spoke, he reached down to unbuckle his belt and unzip his khakis, idly squeezing and groping his cock through his underwear, a damp spot of pre-cum soaking the thin fabric. Your mouth watered for him (literally, from the way you were still drooling down your chin).

“You don’t want me to change,” You replied, letting your lips trail down his chin and to his jaw, pressing a quick kiss to his scar before kissing down his neck, relishing in the low rumble of pleasure he let out as you did so. He really did like it when you paid attention to him. “Not really.”

“ Ja, that’s true.” He hummed, his free hand reaching down to your left thigh, spanning over the soft flesh and kneading it idly as he continued to grope his cock. “I picked you up exactly how I wanted you to stay forever. Hungry,” He sighed with pleasure, digging a canine into his bottom lip as you teased the bites on his collar bone with your tongue. “Needy, and so eager to please. Ha!” He barked out a gruff laugh, giving your thigh a slap and making your entire body flinch (despite the still-flowing sedative in your blood). “Let’s see if we can keep you like this for seven more years, hm?~”

At the very idea (and kind of promise) that he would be keeping you for at least another seven years, you dig your teeth into him again and again ( and again and again and again) , decorating his soft chest with bloody declarations of ownership (as close as you were going to get to ownership, anyway) and possessive love.

It was clear that that was enough to encourage Strade to take a scarred hip in each hand and effortlessly slide his hard cock inside of you, your loose shorts pushed aside and clinging to your puffy labia, groaning at the ease, the warmth, and the hot, tight heat of your cunt.

A flicker of discomfort came to your face as Strade started to fuck you, but it subsided as quickly as it came as he gradually built up a steady rhythm of shallow thrusts, barely giving you enough stimulation for pleasure (you liked to be teased in that way) and demonstrating only an interest in pleasing himself.

It’s a good pace, you thought as you reached down to circle your erect clit, standing tall and proud, with one hand, making yourself gasp and whimper, and one that Strade had to learn in the seven years since your initial capture.

He’d been a lousy lay at the beginning, seeking only a warm hole to sink his dick into when he was in the mood (whether it was a consenting hole or not), but since then, since coming to know each other and learning about each other’s bodies (in a way that was wholly consenting, albeit not at all safe or sane), he’d gotten much better.

Biting your lip as pleasure slowly started to build in your core, you took Strade's sweaty face in your free hand, staring up at him intently as he continued to relentlessly fuck you.

His face was uncharacteristically flushed and his eyes, the colour and sticky depth of honey, were hazy, half-lidded and incredibly hungry. His lips were kiss-bitten and parted to let out short breaths of exertion as he kept moving and gradually picking up the pace like a brutal machine, slamming his full hips against yours, his belly straining against the still-clinging buttons of his shirt.

“ Ich möchte dich verschlingen, ” He panted out, a bead of sweat trickling down his cheek and dripping down on your chest as he fucked you, before he brought his face closer to yours, his teeth bared. “ Meine fleisch, meine liebe~”

His mouth watered to tear you apart with his teeth, because he was only half man, not so much, and the rest fiend .

But he couldn’t do that, not yet, not truly, so he pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth instead, biting your lips and pressing your tongues together in a grotesquely erotic merge of fluids and flesh.

Strade's pounding cock brushed against a tight bundle of nerves deep inside of you, making your entire body, suddenly alive and brimming with energy and burning, aching fire, flinch and tremble. You were instantly compelled to throw your arms around his neck and sink your nails into his back, marring his skin even more with bloody lines and crescent moons dug into his flesh.

“Ah-hah!” Your once hazy eyes shot wide open and bloodshot as a prickling, electric shot of pain shot through your entire body and made your spine arch and bend. “F-Fuck-!”

The sedative had worn off, well and truly, and suddenly, the intense pain of your amputated leg ( your amputated leg, he FUCKING CUT YOUR LEG OFF HEFUCKINGMAIMEDYOUFUCKINGMONSTER) is the only thing you can feel. The deep gash on the bottom of what used to be your knee throbbed and burned, your very bone aching and burning in the meat of your thigh, and you had to dig your teeth into Strade's shoulder to stop yourself from screaming out in pain.

“Oh, there it is. That’s it,” He panted into your ear with a filthy grin, running his tongue over your ear and digging his teeth into your lobe, the same as you did. “Feel it, meine liebe . Feel the pain and remember what I did to you .”

You whimpered helplessly against his shoulder, clutching onto him and wrapping your leg around his full waist, trying desperately hard to ignore the consistent throbbing.

"Do you remember how it tasted?" He then growled into your ear again with a cruel smile, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, spearing you on his cock and watching intently (his golden eyes wider than you had ever seen them) as you writhed and squirmed beneath him. A pinned-down butterfly with a needle through its middle, an animal skin waiting to be filled, a rabbit thrashing for freedom beneath the jaws of a wolf, foolish enough to consent to their capture. "Remember how you begged to taste yourself on my tongue, meine liebe ? What a sick, little freak you are."

"Nnoooo-" You whined helplessly as you tipped your head back with a desperate groan, your hips pushed back against his cock as he wrapped a hand around the stump of your leg and pulled you closer to him. "No, no, noooo..."

"Yesss~" He drawled with a mean chuckle, his honey-coloured eyes half-lidded as he used his grip on your thigh to pull you down onto him, as if you were a toy, a doll in his lap. "And you loved it, didn't you? You loved that I cared about you enough about you to eat you, to devour you and hold you inside myself forever...ah, fräulein, what a poor creature you are."

"S-Strade," You gasped, whining out a broken gasp of pain and pleasure, his thick cock filling every inch of you and making you shake and tremble with desperate, yearning want, despite the excruciating pain that was now shooting from your scalp to the very tip of your toes. "Please, please, I can't-"

"It's too much, isn't it?" He cooed softly, as the hand not on your thigh reached up to idly grope your chest, rolling the piercing through your nipple between this thumb and pointer finger, listening to each of your whimpers and whines. "All too much for a sweet, little thing like you to handle.”

All you could do was try to jerk your head away and look somewhere else, the ceiling, the wall, the fucking carpet for all you cared right now-

“Hah, you know, I would have thought you'd built up a bit of an endurance to it after seven years!" He laughed again and pinched your nipple cruelly, tugging at the hoop with a teasing grin when you let out a shrill shriek of pain at the motion. "You always have a way of staying soooo interesting, meine liebe . That's why I like you so much~"

He then dipped his head to indulgently run his tongue over your chest, nipping at the hoop through your nipple and giving it a mean little tug as he continued to relentlessly fuck you.

"That's why I love you."

And for whatever reason, just hearing those words, everything around you fell into place.

You stopped shrieking, and crying and twisting away from him. Even the pain stopped, in the traditional sense, replaced with a burning ricocheting through your trembling body as you stared up at him, like you were staring at an angel, a twisted kind of God, and not the fucking Devil himself.

“Because I do,” He continued, meeting your eyes with his own as he looked down at you. “I do love you. Very much.”

“I love you too,” You gasped out, feeling a cold sweat clinging to your forehead as you reached up to cling onto him, digging your nails into his shoulders like you were scared of being pulled away from him, scared of losing him. “I love you, I love you, I love you-!”

You were tethered, you thought, as you dipped your head and tongued one of the bites you had left behind on Strade's shoulder, like a dog tongued an enemy's lacerated throat, as Strade fucked you deeper, earning more scratches and cuts down his back, not even a modicum of the pain he inflicted on you so easily, so readily.

“This is all for you,” He then murmured softly, his voice low and even gentle sounding as he brought his face closer to yours again, every hard edge of his features softened by the low light of the setting sun, to the degree that he almost looked as harmless and charming as he did on the very first night you met.

“So be sure to savour it.”

You kissed him again, desperately hard like you were a man starving, and in your frenzied haste, you bit down too hard, somehow managing to rupture the thin skin of Strade’s bottom lip, a rivulet of blood suddenly streaming down his chest and staining his mouth, his lips, his teeth.

It was a perfect taste, you thought, as you thrust your own tongue into his mouth, wrapping yourself entirely in him as he pushed his cock even deeper inside of you.

You didn’t like sex before this, not really, at least not in the traditional sense because you had always liked what you and Strade had done together (no matter how grotesque, repulsive of wrong), but you like how inseparable your bodies have become through this erotic unification.

Is it your own thigh that you’re touching, or is it Strade's? Is it Strade's blood that’s spilling across your tongue or your own? Is Strade's cock inside of you or has it always been there, a part of you?

In the light of the setting sun, sealed away from the eyes of anything normative or traditional, the lines between you and Strade began to blur and were replaced by a mass of writhing, sweaty flesh, and you liked that.

You preferred being rendered monstrous through your own actions to being deemed monstrous by those who cannot see them.

Because you were a monster, in the truest sense, and he had seen the monster in you and loved you, not despite it but because of it.

Strade kissed you again, fiercely, thrusting so deep inside of you, inside of your pulsing cunt, that you could practically feel it in your lungs (you wondered, for maybe a moment too long, what that would actually feel like, Strade thrusting his cock into your vivisected chest), pressing your chests together, smearing the blood that was still dripping down his chin against your pale skin and tethering your bodies even more.

After a few more short, erratic thrusts, you could feel your core tighten and throb around Strade’s still-thrusting cock, and your entire body trembled and shook from pain, pleasure, and sheer exertion.

Like a mean form of payback, Strade suddenly bit down on your lower lip (with his sharp cannibal teeth), and a burst of blood coated both your probing, writhing tongues and trickled down your chins, painting your bodies even more so in brutal pleasure.

With Strade's hands on your hips, grubby, bitten fingernails digging into the soft flesh, your pale skin, he pushed himself even deeper with one final thrust and ejaculated deep inside of you, pushing you, himself, over the line of orgasm and into a world of white-hot, mind melting ecstasy.

Maybe it’s poetic that you came together so often. Romantic.

The one rendition of romance you had, barring the cannibalism.

You were the first to pull away, nearly collapsing back against the bed and letting out a deep exhale as you run your tongue over your wounded lip, hissing at the sensitivity of it.

What was another wound, though? It paled in comparison to the still burning, throbbing pain of your amputated knee.

Strade took a moment to indulge in a rare vulnerability, not even trying to detangle himself from you and opting instead to cage you down against the bed underneath his weight, resting his head on your chest and his slowly softening cock, still weeping, pressed to your right thigh.

He reached up to idly stroke over the lacerations that ran down the center of your sternum, a poor man’s attempt at vivisection when he was feeling particularly ambitious, and you ached for him to push his fingers past those scars and penetrate you even deeper.

You ached for him to devour even more of you, for him to reach into your chest, to pull out bones, flesh, and organs and tear into you, engulfing you completely and carrying you with him always, no matter what he did to you.

That way, you would always win//

"I left your prosthetic downstairs," He murmured softly after a long moment of comfortable silence, before he sat up on the edge of the bed and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, nestling his face against your soft hair (longer than it had been when you first met). "How is it feeling? Still painful?"

"Y-Yeah…it hurts," You said with a soft hiss as he ran his fingers over your gash, your body trembling a little at the pain but trying hard not to flinch or cringe away. You could endure it. "Can I have another dose?"

"Hm?" He hummed a non-verbal question, his voice an ever-playful lilt as a teasing smile spread on his face. "You want another dose of sedative, is that it?"

"Please," You pleaded softly, keening into his touch, your cheek pressed into his palm. “For our special day?”

"Mm, I'll think about it," He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your other cheek as he idly pushed his fingers into your hair, petting you like a dog, a cat, or an animal in his bed. "I'll go get your prosthetic for now.” He fished in his pocket for a moment and took out his phone, checking the time with a swipe of his finger. “I think Ren should be finishing up on the stream by now, so we can have a late dinner together to celebrate. Okay?"

You couldn’t think of a reason to try and argue against him.

"Okay." You nodded and smiled the best you could, despite the pain, leaning up to chase after a kiss as he stood to his feet, buckling his belt and buttoning up the (remaining) buttons of his shirt.

He gave the kiss to you readily, reaching forward and cupping your face gently with his free hand, his thumb tracing over your chin, and your bottom lip as he pulled you into a soft, close kiss.

Just as he gave his love to you readily now.

“ Meine liebe, ” He whispered softly against your lips between kisses, his eyes deeply fond as he stroked his thumb up and down your cheek. “You’re mine, sweet thing. Mine to kiss and to fuck and to devour, and to love, however I want . Remember that.”

“I’m yours,” You whispered in a reply, pressing your own kiss to his smiling lips. “Always.”

Strade didn’t say another thing. He didn’t need to when he smiled so proudly and kissed your cheek, running his fingers through your hair for an indulgent moment of softness before he stood to his feet and left you in the bedroom, idly shouting for Ren as he paced down the stairs.

You fell back against the bed with an exhausted huff, your body a mess and your lip, your neck, your shoulders, and your leg throbbing in pain.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this, you thought, as you looked down where your leg used to be, the dark gash marring the tattooed skin of your right thigh, a cruel reminder of his ownership over you.

But he was right. It was the perfect kind of romance for the two of you to share.

A perfect romance and a perfect meal.

Loving someone shouldn’t feel like this.

But you didn’t want any other kind of love anymore.

Not ever again.

#boyfriend to death #btd #you kill me every time #ykmet #strade btd #strade ykmet #strade x reader #IT'S BEEN SEVEN YEARS #MOTHERFUCKERRRRRR #i don't want to fix him i want him to EAT ME #ray's fics

54 notes · View notes