heckyeahbtdbaybee

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Fatal Attraction

Lawrence Oleander x reader

Warnings: Death of a Major Character

Also on Ao3

He liked watching you. The way you moved, the way to spoke to yourself, the way you acted when you thought nobody was watching. But he was watching. He watched you all the time. You were his angel, he couldn't help it.

The thing was, he had to share you. He didn't like that, didn't like it at all. You weren't in a relationship, but you had friends. coworkers. Family. He didn't like that at all. No, you were his. You should only need him.

Thing was, you didn't know he existed.

But, he supposed, that was okay with him. for now at least. Because if you knew he was there, you wouldn't act the same. There was something so intimate about watching someone be their true, private self, when they stripped themselves of the mask they put on for the rest of the world.

He had seen you without it, seen who you really were. It was intoxicating.

But he wanted to get closer. He had watched you for nearly a year now, but seeing from a distance just wasn't enough anymore. No, he needed you closer.

Closer.

You weren't expecting it. You had no idea that he was following you. None whatsoever. It came as quite a shock when someone grabbed you from behind one night as you walked home from work, covering your mouth with one large hand while pinning your arms down with their's. They drug you backwards into an alleyway.

Of course, things like this happened all the time in the city. But the shocking part was what they said to you before they knocked you out.

"I've b-been waiting for so long, (Y/N). You... I can't let you go. Not ever."

And then it went dark.

You woke up in a room enclosed in greenery. Now, you liked plants, had several yourself, but this was extreme. You could hear water running to your left. A shower? Someone was humming softly.

You looked down. You were firmly taped to a chair, though not uncomfortably tight. But there was definitely no way you could loosen the tape, but maybe you could loosen the arms of the chair? Then you could un-tape you legs and then-

The shower stopped. You froze. A moment later a tall man emerged, towel wrapped around his waist. His long blonde hair was draped over his shoulders, wet. He paused and looked around, then noticed you staring wide-eyed.

"O-oh! You're awake," he exclaimed, his face reddening. He looked around the room again and disappeared out of your line of sight. After a moment (and the tell-tale rustle of cloth) he returned, clothed in a pair of sweatpants. His hair was tied back in a lazy ponytail, still dripping water.

"Where the fuck am I," you spat, terrified and angry. His brow furrowed, but then he shook his head and laughed.

"You're where you're supposed to be. With me," he said with a sureness that made you tremble.

He took a step closer. You glared at him, teas of fear welling in your eyes. "No! Stay the fuck away from me," you shouted. He looked furious and lunged at you, slamming his hand over your mouth. You bit his palm, but he didn't remove it.

"Hush," he hissed through gritted teeth, face now red with fury. He stood tense for a moment as someone yelled to be quiet. Apparently this was an apartment.

After a long moment, he pulled his hand away and looked at you sternly. "You have to be quiet. I- I won't tolerate you yelling.You're supposed to stay here, with me, and I won't let you be taken away. No yelling."

You bit your lip, hanging your head. You nodded slowly. He sighed in relief and stood from his crouched position. He gave you a gentle smile. "That's better. Now be quiet please, I'm going to, uh, go get you something to drink." He turned and walked to a small, plant-covered kitchen area.

He pulled a tea kettle out of one of the cabinets and filled it with watere from the sink, then switched on the stove. He set the kettle over the front burner and placed what looked to be a DIY teabag in it. Lord knows what was in it, you thought with a shudder.

He continued rummaging through the kitchen as the tea came to a boil. While he worked, you frantically tried to free yourself from your bindings. As you had thought before, the tape was too tight to tear out of. However, the arms of the chair were loose. They creaked as you jerked your forearms around. He seemed to tense once after a particularly loud creak, but he went back to what he was doing after a moment, leaving you to give an inaudible sigh of relief.

With a few more sharp tugs, you felt the chair arms give-way. The long haired man retrieved a cup and began to pour the tea he had made. You sat still, planning, as he approached you. He knelt down beside you again.

"Careful, it's very hot. I'll just tilt it a little bit so you can get a sip of-" his sentence turned into a startled cry as you swung the left chair arm, still taped firmly to you, at him. The teacup flew out of his hand, splashing the both of you in scalding water. He yelped, but you seemed to have taken the brunt of the boiling liquid. He stumbled backwards.

You tried to stand, forgetting that your legs were bound as well. You landed one more blow to his cheek with your fist before falling to the floor, screaming. His eyes were wide as he dove at you, attempting to cover your mouth. You turned your head, and his elbow jammed into your ribs as he landed on you with a painful thud. You felt bones snap and air rush from your lungs.

He scrambled to his knees, hands gripping your neck now in a frenzied attempt to keep you quiet. His hands were like vices, allowing no air to refill your chest. You struggled to breath but found your vision going black. His grip loosen. "I told you to be fucking quiet," he said, distressed.

You inhaled, a sickenig gurgle sounding from your midsection. You coughed, blood flying from you parted lips. His eyes widened as he saw the crimson droplets. "N-no, this isn't good, n-no, uh..." He stood and rushed to the kitchen, grabbing a towel. You coughed again. Your eyes began to flutter shut.

You felt frantic hands fluttering over you, a cloth brushing the blood from your lips. He was saying something, but it was muffled. You were so, so tired.

So tired. .............

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Lawrence bit his lip, groaning. You definitely seemed dead.

Bloodied, burnt, smashed.

And very, very dead.

Blood was seeping out of your crushed ribcage, staining the floor. Sure, there had been blood on this floor before, but that was before the downstairs neighbors had their ceilings redone, getting rid of all the water stains and other various muck that concealed anything that seeped through.

He hadn't intended to kill you, hadn't intended to kill anyone else once he had you there. But know that was fucked.

He was fucked.

He lifted your body, limp, limbs dangling obscenely. He looked frantically around the apartment, trying to see if there was anything he could lay you on until he could get rid of the body.

That thought hurt him, getting rid of you like you were rubbish. No, he couldn't do that.

In a flash of intuition, it hit him: the bathtub. He walked you to the small bathroom, blood driping along the way, leaving a crimson trail behind him. He lowered you down gently, nestling your body in what seemed like woukld be a comfortable way in the porcelain confines.

He knelt by the tub, bloodied hand resting on yours, pale and rapidly cooling. Tears trickled down his face, his expression wrought with regret.

"I didn't want to kill you.... wanted you to stay here... with me..." he said, voice cracking.

His pale blue eyes fluttered over your face. You had such a peaceful expression, just like when you slept. If it weren't for the blood staining your lips, that would be a believable alternative. He turned on the water, using it to wash the blood away. There, that's better.

He sighed. "I... I c-can't let you go." He entwined his fingers with yours. "I'm going to keep you, I promise. Just like I said I would."

He released your hand, allowing it to fall, curled, to your chest. His hand trailed down your shirt, unbuttoning it as he went, caressing your soft flesh.

Perfect, he thought. Absolutely perfect for planting. The most beautiful vase for his most magnificent specimens.

#lawrence btd2 #lawrence oleander #lawrence oleander x reader #lawrence btd #major character death #major character injury #obsession #stalking #yandere!lawrence #yandere #blood

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Tigershark

Rire x reader

Part 2 of Birthing Demons

Warnings: Pregnancy

Tiger shark, you though to yourself, looking at your swollen form in the mirror. Your belly bulged (though not in a grotesque way) out in front of you. If you stood there long enough, you could see the shifting of the fetal forms within you.

Tiger shark.

That’s what you were at the moment, in a sense. It was one of the few things you knew about sharks.

(That and they had razor sharp, triangular teeth, just like him.)

Tiger sharks had two wombs. (That was the main, if only, difference.) After mating, each was filled completely with dozens of fertilized eggs. As the eggs became true fetuses, miniature copies of what they’d grow up to be, they’d begin to eat the other unformed and unfertilized ovum. Then, they’d turn on each other. In the end, there would only be one baby left in each side, the most well-fed and strongest. The rest would have been consumed.

Tiger shark.

That’s exactly what was happening within you, right now. It made you nauseous if you thought about it too much. You had read it in a book that one of Rire’s many servants had given you upon your request. You had wanted to learn more about what would happen in and to you. Now you wished you hadn’t, in a way.

All-in-all, life was pretty cushy here.

(Asides from the fact you couldn’t even leave your new bedroom.)

A nice (almost excessively fancy) bed, luxurious bathroom with a tub bigger than some pools you had seen on earth. And the food, too, was pretty damn good. It seemed that breeders got the special treatment.

You had woken up here after the events in your living room, sore and leaking on your new bed. You had been so disoriented at first, dizzy and weak. You had tried to stand, but pain and the fact that you were not-yet accustomed to your new… physique had prevented it. And a thick tentacle that slapped over your legs. You had whipped your head around quickly.

Rire was laying there, arms crossed behind his head. He was smirking (insufferable prick), as usual, a self-satisfied expression plastered across his face. “Well, it took you a while to wake up. Welcome to Hell.” He laughed as your face went ghostly-white. “Get used to it. It won’t be so bad,” he grinned. “You get to stay here, free of charge. Don’t princesses like castles?” He chuckled, a dark laugh that sent a not-unpleasant chill down your spine.

“Wh- what? Where are we?” Your voice had come out shaky and scared.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, pet. As far as this place goes, you’ll be getting the royal-treatment, so-to-speak. Of course, it’d be too dangerous for you to leave this room, ever, so you’d better enjoy it here. There’s a lot of lusty demons who’d like to breed a little human like you.” The tentacle gripping your legs loosened and its tip prodded at your entrance. It hurt from the abuse you had received earlier. You whimpered. “That privilege is mine. Only mine.”

(You had a feeling that if anyone tried, they’d meet an unpleasant end.)

He had left shortly after that, telling you that a servant would be by later to bring you food. Most nights he came into your room and would fuck you raw, but as your state became more delicate as the… pregnancy progressed, he came less frequently. Rarely, very rarely, he’d visit but nothing sexual would occur.

(It scared you at first, but you grew to crave that time with him.)

He’d sit on the bed or in the armchair in the corner and pull you into his lap. He’d tell you what a good pet, what a wonderful breeder you were, how well you were doing. He’d stroke your swollen belly, feeling carefully for any movements of the unborn inside you. It was uncharacteristically (and suspiciously) tender. You didn’t acknowledge any of it at first, but after a while it grew on you. It was nice to hear a tender word, even if it wasn’t genuine. You figured he was just toying with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

So here you were, set to birth your first demon-child any day now. You’d have to care for it almost all on your own and that was terrifying. You didn’t know how to raise a human child, let alone a tiny demon.

(In the back of your mind, you wanted to do well for Rire, to please him.)

You wouldn’t be totally alone though. A hulking she-demon servant had offered to help you when she could. (She had scared you at first, with her horns and scales, but she turned out to be one of the nicest… people you had ever met.) She had helped raise many offspring, so she had plenty of good advice to give you.

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, hand on your belly, a seed of hope grew within you. It wasn’t all hopeless. No, you’d be the best breeder you could.

(Maybe you had wanted this all along.)

#rire btd #rire #btd #btd2 #rire x reader #rire x pregnant reader #pregnancy #breeding kink #impregnation kink

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Oviposition

Rire x reader

Part 1 of Birthing Demons

Warnings: NSFW as hell

The devil-man grinned at you. You gazed up at him, tired and battered. He turned a page of his book, glancing away from you for a moment. Your throat was so, so sore. It was hard to breath. One of his black tentacles forced itself just a bit further down your esophagus, just slowly enough so that you didn't gag.

"Your throat is just way to small to take all of me. Maybe this will stretch it a little." His shark-toothed grin grew wider. "What do you think, little pet? anything to say?" The tentacle shoved itself deeper. You cried out, the sound greatly muffled by the thick appendage. "Didn't think so."

He went back to reading, as though he had forgotten you were there entirely. Your back pressed against the hard floor, limbs sprawled haphazardly. The sound of your crying and the book pages turning were the only noises present in whatever odd dimension you were being held in. You were sure the subtle writhing of the tentacle was visible in your throat.

After several minutes, he looked back up. "You know, I believe I need to stretch you out elsewhere too. I have special plans for you." You shuddered. Two more tentacles uncoiled from behind him and made their way towards your prone form. You tried to move a way, but the appendage in your throat pined you to the ground. You only succeeded in writhing pitifully, at which he laughed. The new tentacles spread open your legs (they were much too powerful to resist) and began to prod at your most sensitive areas. You gave a muffled sob.

"What is it? You have something to say?" The tentacle began to withdraw from your mouth, agonizingly slowly. Finally, it was completely removed with a sickening squelch. You gagged, coughing and sputtering. He smirked. "Too much? Hmm. I think I'll test you out anyway." The black appendages wound around you, gripping you tightly and whipping you upright. You landed on your knees hard enough to make them feel like they were shattered, with your face over his crotch. He reached down and undid his belt.

He was already erect, and though you had been through this many times in the past week, his size still made you shudder. Suddenly, his hand was on the back of your head, shoving you downwards. His cock slammed into your throat. Your eyes watered as you struggled to breath. "Much better, I think it worked after all." He forced your head up and down along his length. You tried not to gag desperately.

With a shuddering gasp on your part, a tentacle forced its way into your anus. You could feel a small amount of blood. The pain was almost unbearable. You could feel it making its way deeper and deeper into your abdomen. You cried out around his cock. "Yes, yes, I know, pet. Always wanting more." The second appendage rubbed your labia, and then rammed into you so hard that your vision went black momentarily, and you knew he must have penetrated your cervix and into your womb. Tears ran down your face profusely. You could vividly imagine what your belly looked like right now, a writhing and squirming, swollen mess.

He laughed at you and continued forcing your head to move. Your jaw ached, and you shuddered, nails sinking into the fabric of the sofa he was sitting on. You remembered so many nice naps on that couch, so many nights binge watching old TV shows, so many relaxing days off from work... you missed it all terribly.

The removal of the appendage in your ass shocked you out of your wishful day dreaming. It slunk back behind his back. An odd sensation in your stomach made you gasp, at least, as much as you could gasp with your mouth around demon-cock. You could see his eyes narrow in concentration behind his rectangular sunglasses. "Well, well. It would seem that you're going to get a gift today for being so obedient. Aren't you excited to find out what it is? Or do you want it to be a surprise?" You closed your eyes, sobbing. "Okay fine, I guess I'll tell you."

Suddenly, it felt as though a weight had dropped into your belly. You jerked your head away from him and screamed. He chuckled at you, allowing you to move away and sit up. Trembling in horror, you gazed down at your abdomen.

"What, don't you like your surprise? I thought you'd be proud to bear the Demon King's eggs. It truly is an honor, you know." Another weight dropped, and you could see a spherical object force its way to the front of your abdomen. another joined it rapidly. You bit your lip and shuddered.

Were you... enjoying this?

The tentacle moved again. More eggs, each about the size of a baseball. You could see the tentacle pushing and writhing inside of you. You, not realizing it, let out a tiny moan as you watched your belly swell slowly. Rire laughed. "There we go, that's better." You hazard a glance up at his face. He was smirking. You turned your gaze away quickly. He was stroking his cock now, slowly, keeping time with the movements of the tentacle embedded in your belly. You moaned again, just a bit louder this time. You dropped onto your hands, trembling. White fluid leaked from you from you, dripping slowly down his tentacle, a stark contrast in comparison to the leather-black appendage. Your orgasm was long and slow.

"It seems someone is enjoying this more than they thought." You squeezed your eyes shut, gasping, mortified. He laughed. "I'm sorry to inform you that this is the last one. At least is a rather large one, hmm?" The tentacle swelled, the lump within it pushing through your sore vagina and into your abdomen, settling among the others with a dry creak. The tentacle withdrew. Cum dripped from between your legs. You knelt there, too weak and tired to move.

"Unfortunately, those eggs aren't fertilized. Get up." You remained crouched in place. "I said get up." The tentacle wrapped round your legs, and lifted you into the air, dropping you on his lap. "We can take care of that right now, pet." His hands wrapped around your hips, nails digging into your flesh, and he lifted you and then slammed you down on his cock. The eggs shifted inside of you. Your hands gripped his over your hips. He began to move you up and down, too weak to move on your own. Your head arched backwards, and a moan ripped out of your throat.

You were enjoying this.

The demon leaned forward and sank his teeth into your shoulder, holding you firmly against him. You shuddered again, but not from fear, from pleasure. "R- Rire," you gasped.

"Ah, finally got your voice back?" Blood trickled from your shoulder. The eggs shifted as he thrust once more. "You'll enjoy it, I believe, being a demon's little breeder. You'll get used to the feeling of being chock-full of my ovum. You'll find yourself begging for me to fill you up when you're empty." You groan as you feel his seed rush into you, filling all of the cracks and spaces between the ovum. After a moment, he lifts you off of him and sits you on the side of the couch. You slump down, out of breath and exhausted and used. Your belly ached.

Rire stood and redid the buckle of his belt, smirking. Your eyes were half-lidded. you gazed at him tiredly, face blank. For a split second, an odd expression passed over his face, one that was almost... tender. He bent down and grabbed a blanket from beside the sofa, and covered you with it. He turned and walked away, disappearing through an open doorway.

You lay there, swollen and aching, processing your new-found position as a demon's fucktoy breeder. Maybe, just maybe, this would be alright.

#rire btd #rire #btd #btd2 #rire x reader #nsfw #nsfw fic #rire x reader lemon #rire x reader smut #btd lemon #oviposition #breeding kink #impregnation kink

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

For Writers:

Reblog if it’s okay for your followers to leave you an ask telling you what the one thing is they remember you for as a writer.  Is it a scene or a detail or a specific line? Is it something like style or characterization?  Is it that one weird kink they never thought they’d be into, but oh my god wow self-discovery time?

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Root Cellar

Lawrence Oleander x reader

Also on AO3

Warnings: weird plant stuff

Based on the poem Root Cellar by Theodore Roethke

Lawrence smiled as he walked through the woods. It was dark, and the moon was only just full enough to allow him to see where he was going. He was very happy, a slightly unfamiliar feeling for him. It was time for him to check his root cellar.

He had built it several years ago, dug it out one night, intending to plant a body there later on. It was just outside of an abandoned cabin with an overgrown lawn that he had found during his midnight wanderings. The next day, he intended to find someone to make into art, but instead he had found a box of tulip bulbs at a store he frequented. They were so strange, clinging to life even away from their own medium (just like him), so he had bought them.

Unfortunately, there was no suitable space in his apartment to leave them until he could plant them some day. It was much too warm for bulb-storage. So instead of using the hole as a grave, he used it as a root cellar. Taking old boards from the cabin and digging a bit more, he had extended it and fortified it until it was suitable for his purposes. Inspired by his handiwork, he bought more bulbs, until he had an extensive collection all lining the shelves of the cellar. He loved them, dead but not dead, just like him. It was wonderful.

He knew a poem he learned when he was little, one that enticed him even then, about a root cellar like his. It always played in his head when he went here, over and over again until he found himself walking in time with the poem's rhythm. He murmured it to himself as he walked down the winding trail.

"Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch."

He understood that well. Sleeping for half-dead things was hard. So many nightmares, terrible, terrible nightmares. They haunted them.

"Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark."

Searching for a place, just like he did, every time he brought someone out here, trying to find a place where they could be alone, a spot in their own little world.

"Shoots dangled and drooped, Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates, Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes."

His root cellar fascinated him. Things reaching out of the shadows, trying desperately to find something they would never encounter, not until he gave it to them. They reached and reached, struggling, clinging to life they couldn't have.

"And what a congress of stinks! Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich."

At last, he spotted the old cabin ahead. he couldn't wait to see them. They had been there several weeks now.He didn't know what he had done, but it was beautiful. He had come out here every night just to watch as they turned to the most beautiful art before his eyes.

The door creaked as he opened it, as did the stairs he had built with careful care. The scent of earth and rot hit him as he walked downwards. Off the wall, he grabbed a small lantern, lighting it to illuminate the small space.The smell of the oil and the bulbs was heady and wonderful, made even better by them.

"Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks."

The dirt floor was tamped down, and against free spaces on the walls spilled piles of thing for gardening. he would use them someday soon, though he didn't know when. He was too busy watching over them to bother with another garden.

They lay there, pinned to the floor by roots. Mold covered part of their body, hair-thin fibrous growths lacing through their skin and hair. Tubers housed in the delicate curve of their abdominal cavity. They were perfect, giving life even as it seeped out of them ever so slowly.

They were not dead, something quite odd. Instead, they kept on living, kept going. He had no idea how. He knelt down beside them. Their eyes opened, hazy, skin flushed with the fever of infection. He stroked the moss on their cheeks tenderly. "Hey there. I- I'm glad you're still here. Clinging... clinging just like-" his eyes flickered up to the boxes of roots and bulbs, all reaching towards the warm body on the floor "-like them."

Their chest shuddered with the struggle of breathing as roots overtook their system. But still, somehow, like him, like the bulbs, they clung to life.

"Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath."

#lawrence oleander #lawrence #lawrence btd #lawrence btd2 #btd #btd2 #lawrence oleander x reader

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Kumpel

Strade x reader

Also on AO3

Warning: Rape/non-con, German creep boi

The smell of unwashed hair and motor oil.

The grip of rough hands on your hips.

Foreign groans of pleasure.

Hot, wet semen splattering onto your back.

Blood dripping down lacerations all over you. Your sides, your thighs, your chest.

"Hey Kumpel, was ist los?"

You knew German fairly well. You spat at him, the bastard standing in front of you, waving a nail gun.

"I'm not your buddy and you know damn well what's wrong."

The deranged man giggled madly. He crept closer, kneeling down in front of you.

"Ach, sei nicht so, meine Liebe."

{Aw, don't be like that, my love.}

He held the nail gun closer to you. You cringed away, knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to use it. He laughed harder.

"What is it, are you frightened by this kleine thing? It doesn't even hurt."

He pressed it to your shoulder, snickering as you tried desperately to squirm away. His finger tightened on the trigger.

SNAP.

You cried out, voice shrill.

"See? It barely hurts at all," he purred. Tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes.

"F-fuck you," you choke. He frowns, but it quickly morphs into a sickly grin.

"Wenn du mich auch willst."

{If you want me to.}

He pries open your legs, holding the nail gun to your shoulder still to keep you from resisting. You tremble as he unzips his pants, pulling out his cock. It's already erect and wet from pre-cum.

He shoves in roughly, making you gasp and scream at the top of your lungs. The fox-boy watching from the corner flinches at the sound. he looks so young, so scared. You think that he probably has it even worse than you.

The German begins to thrust roughly, and it feels like you're being ripped apart at the seams. In his pleasure, his finger tightens on the nail gun's trigger once more. You shout as a second nail enters your shoulder. You're sure that it's shattered your clavicle.

The greasy man tosses away the gun and wraps his hands around your neck, gripping tightly. Your visions begins to blur and go black around the edges. As he nears orgasm, his grip tightens. You pass out just as he cums.

You wake slowly. It's dark in the god-forsaken basement. The fox-boy and greasy-man are gone. You think you hear a screech from upstairs and wonder just what the poor beast-kin has gone through living in this hellhole with a madman.

Twenty minutes later, boot-steps start down the stairs. You feign that you are sleeping, hoping faithlessly that he'll spare you this time.

"Aufwachen." He kicks you in the ribs. Something snaps. You groan and peel your eyes open.

He walks over to the counter and leans against it, one leg crossed over the other. He's holding a knife. it looks like some sort of deadly-sharp hunting knife. You don't even want to think about what he's planning to do with it.

"Guten Morgen, meine Liebling. Wie geht's?"

You sneer at him and turn your face away. He sighs.

"Kumpel, I must be honest. You are beginning to bore me. You're no fun to play with anymore."

Just how long had you been down here, you wonder. He walks closer, eyes glittering.

"But I guess we can have one more play-date before you leave."

Leave?

"Don't look so hopeful, Kumpel. You won't be leaving alive."

He laughs at your expression. Without warning, he lunges at you. The knife is thrust into your stomach. It's just as sharp as you thought, but you can't think about that through the searing pain. He splits you open. The wound is only five or so inches long, but it is deep and feels like it has split you in two.

Tears run down your face as you beg him, plead for him to stop. It does no good. It only ignites the fire in his eyes and in his crotch. His erection is prominent.

He wriggles the knife around for several seconds before slowly drawing it out. He gazes intently at the blade and then licks it clean as you watch in pained horror, careful to avoid the sharp edge. After the blade is clean, he sets it down on the concrete a few feet away.

He prods at the wound with his fingers and then plunges his hand into your body cavity. He pulls out a length of your intestines, coated with blood. They droop from your body when he lets them go.

"Had to make some room in there, Liebling."

He unzips his fly and unbuttons is pants, removing himself slowly, right in full view. He strokes himself a few times, and then carefully places his tip at the wound's entrance. You realize in horror what he's about to do.

He eases himself in slowly, each inch burning like fire in your gut. He rocks his hips, humming to himself as you scream. He places a hand around your neck, but not choking you this time. No, instead, he watches, grinning, as you bleed out around him. He stands over your lifeless form, jerking himself off until a mix of your blood and his semen splatter onto your body, like a twisted piece of art.

"Ren," he shouts. "come and help me clean up. Our friend here has made quite a mess."

#strade #strade btd #strade x reader #rape/non-con #btd

[heckyeahbtdbaybee]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Vincent Metzger x Reader

Also posted on my AO3 account, unfortunately7

Warnings: Rape, Piss, y’know normal BTD stuff

Song lyrics from Hungry Like The Wolf by Duran Duran

[In touch with the ground]

He shoved you to the floor. The cuts and scrapes around your wrists burned from where you had yanked them from the handcuffs. "Though I told you to stay put. Told you I didn't want bloody little foot prints all over my floor." He pressed down on the wound between your toes and down your sole, ripping it open again with his boot. You cried out. "Can't believe you, gettin' blood all over."

[I'm on the hunt down I'm after you]

You wished you had never gone to that crowded roadside shit-hole.

[Smell like I sound I'm lost in a crowd]

He kicked you in the shin. You curled into a ball, trying to protect your more sensitive areas. "Look at you, so weak," he grinned viciously. "It's almost cute."

[And I'm hungry like the wolf]

He crouched down beside you, hand clenching your shoulder. He shoved you over onto your back. You raised your arms to protect yourself, but he grabbed the handcuffs and reattached you to your previous prison. This time, the cuffs were tight enough that they began to cut off your circulation.

[Straddle the line in discord and rhyme]

"Please, don't," you sobbed. He laughed, breath hot on your cheek. He reached down and grabbed you, pinching delicate skin of your vulva. You cried out again, more loudly this time. His grin widened. "Why in the world would I want to stop? You disobeyed me, and that means you have to be punished."

[I'm on the hunt down I'm after you]

He forced your legs apart, spreading you open in display for him. You squeezed your eyes shut, ashamed. Part of you, a very tiny part, was enjoying this. "Aw, look at that, already wet for me." You cringed at the smugness in his voice. "You could be wetter, though." "W- what do you mean." "Piss. It's cute. Maybe I'll take it easy on you then." You tremble, you were already so close to doing that out of fear. It was relatively easy to comply. He laughed.

[Mouth is alive with juices like wine]

Before you even had a chance to react, he ducked down and drug his tongue over your slit. You whimpered as he hummed on you. "That's better." He sat back up and began to unbutton his pants.

[And I'm hungry like the wolf]

He was fully erect; he loved seeing you ashamed. He leaned over you and forced himself in, filling you so completely that it hurt. You trembled beneath him, that wolfish, horrible, dreadfully sexy man.

#vincent metzger #vincent metzger x reader #vincent #btd #btd2 #btd2 vincent #piss kink #rape/non con #song lyrics #hungry like the wolf #duran duran