#tw: teeth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

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SYNOPSIS: Lyney has a patience of a saint, but he's had enough of this game of cat and mouse. This time, he wants you, and no one will stop him for getting what he wants. (2nd POV) [ IDENTITYV AU ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking (he's chasing you), minor character death (other survivors died), emotional manipulation, Arle teaches him how to """metaphorically""" cut off someone's 'wings', ooc Lyney and Arle, gore, teeth, Lyney is unhinged

You couldn't remember what tipped him off. It could be from your actions, or it could be from what you said. Hell, it may as well be something that you unknowingly did that offended him— something that would normally not be a bother to him that became its own trigger.

Whatever it could be, you were in the other end of such a horrible fate. And alas, the last place you wished you didn't end up in had to be the one you loathed the most.

The eerie chimes of the bell echoing around the haunted town continued to plague your senses, followed by the faint meowing of the grin-malkin cats as you sprinted for your dear life.

You can hardly focus on what is there and isn't there, as all you had is to get the hell out of here and save this sinking match.

Your only task is to survive.

Survive the madness of the man that loved you in such a twisted, horrible way.

You were his rabbit, and Eversleeping Town was the location of his greatest show yet— a show that will capture not just your attention, but your own will.

Granted, the ever forgiving Illusionist made a simple deal— if you get out by any means necessary, be it the dungeon, exit gate, or, hell— even by completing the ciphers with your companions or saved by the Nightingale… He'll let you go.

However, should you go down, he would consider that as a win of his own, and that meant you cannot leave this forsaken match that you're under.

It's why you were prepared. You came with a companion or two that can assist you, even if it had its own drawbacks.

Alas, this did not stop the Knave from simply going after them first, leaving only 4 ciphers and the dungeon still hidden and closed from many prying eyes. You were clever to cover your tracks, but he is more so with removing the most trickiest companions yet.

…

Or, that's what many may think.

The Knave bas been taught from the best of the best— his "Father" has taught him of how to, in simpler terms, keep a bird from flying away in its cage.

Should Lyney need it, he needed to learn one crucial detail: he needed to learn just how to clip his beloved's wings first and keep them in his cage.

After all, if he had found a way to do such a thing… the outcome of the match will be nothing but predictable.

And the Knave thrives off of the uncertainty, and especially with being dubbed the Trickster of Eversleeping.

He'll let you off for now. He'll let you scurry around, trying and praying that he never catches wind of your antics.

After all, the moment he catches you, you will have to pray to whatever God you believed in that he feels nice enough to not take you down to his very grave.

"Now, Lyney," he could vaguely hear 'Father' speak as she handed him his cards. Gesturing right before them was the sight of someone bound in the chair. The magician stood as he saw the stranger shake and struggle, trying to say something under the gag.

"You must learn how to use your tricks to matters such as this. I'm sure it will be hard, but I have faith that you can do it."

He seemed rather hesitant to speak with how the fool was trying and failing to scream. To beg, even. It was a pathetic sight if Lyney didn't had morals... Which he had, much to 'Father's' chagrin.

Oh well. It wasn't as though having morals can be a bad thing. Maybe it was better, so she can use it to her advantage.

"Take this, Lyney."

She hands the young magician an item. One that can be used with just a bit of force.

"Now, let Father teach you how to clip a bird's wings. All you have to do is watch and follow my lead. You can do that, right?"

He turned his gaze to the taller woman, then to the item she handed to him. The sight of the iron and leather caught his attention, and especially with the ends of it's 'mouth' being bloodied.

Pliers.

He should've dropped it the moment he had it. He should have done that and not agree. It was brutal to harm another person, and he knew that.

... But his 'Father' would simply dangle the life of Lynette over his head. She could simply threaten to send Lynette off to a dangerous mission, especially one where dying is guaranteed.

Many have died, and Lyney was not a stranger to that.

However, his sister was special. She was the only one he had left, and she to him. Should she die, he didn't knew what he'd end up doing.

And so, with a deep breath, he nodded and faced his 'Father'.

"Yes, Father."

...

That day didn't end in a simple case of dental work.

But he learned how to 'clip' a person's wings in exchange.

Your chest began to heave as you traversed through the empty buildings of the town, fatigue catching up to you the more you spent running.

Although your legs ached and begged for a break, you continued running, feeling the rush from behind you— one from the grin-malkin cats.

Now, one can say that you thought covering your tracks was a skill you need to learn. And with that, you assumed it to be the case. However, you've yet to learn that it was better not to underestimate a hunter's skills.

A lesson that Lyney, a man whom you've helped when you were both survivors, would be more than happy to teach you.

As you vaulted over an open window, you felt the air grow harsh as it whipped you on your descent, your feet landing on the pavement. Feeling your muscles tighten, you grit your teeth and sprinted onwards.

Come on, I just need to get to the graveyard. I can lose him from there!

Alas, you were not gifted with the matter of stamina. Just as you've reached past the tracks of the tram, you could hear Lyney speak from behind you.

"Look at what we have here! Scurrying off, are we?"

And then, you felt it.

Pain.

The harsh hit from Rosseland, his cat, as you vaulted over the window leading to the land of tombstones sent you flying; your back soon collided with one of the worn headstones, making you groan in pain.

In the midst of your suffering, Lyney vaulted through the window, his purple eyes twinkling as he crouched down to look at you.

"My, my, my little rabbit," he tutted, chuckling as he watched you crawl away from him with no avail. "Haven't we made a deal? If you manage to escape this match, I'll let you go. But since you went down... I get to keep you. Do you remember that?"

... You kept your mouth shut.

"... [Name]," he said, his right hand reaching over to grab your neck. "Answer me. Do you remember what our agreement is?"

"... I do."

And yet it feels like it's stacked against me.

Coughing, you turned your head away from him. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was happy to hear your agreement to the matter.

"See? It isn't so hard to agree, now, is it?" he asked with a lit of his voice. "Now, my darling... Now that I have you, I'd like for you to answer a few questions for me."

Questions?

"... And if I refuse?"

Lyney laughed at that, but his voice was less composed. Perhaps it was more manic.

"Ahahahaha! What makes you think you're able to refuse, my little hare?" he asked, his eyes closed before reaching up to grab your chin. With an iron grip, he turned your head to him, his eyes open to face you with a chilling smile.

"I'd hate to have you toy with me like that. You know that, right?"

You wanted to say otherwise, but you were already incapacitated. If you ever decided to counter his claim, you knew that he would do worse than simply chairing you to one of the... Less than desirable chairs with rockets strapped onto them.

".. Fine," you breathed out. "I agree."

"Splendid," he said, pulling his gloved hand away to grab his hat. As he pulled it off of his head and turned it upside down, he reached his left to slip inside.

"Now, I don't want to you to force my hand. It's only a few questions that I want you to answer, and if you answer them truthfully... I may spare you by chairing you myself."

You didn't knew what that meant...

... Up until you saw a pair of pliers peek out from his hand, the dull gleam of iron greeting your horrified face.

"But if you lied, I'll have to resort to some more... Drastic measures."

The hours you two spent together was, in short, torture.

You couldn't count the amount of times that your teeth got yanked with those metal ones, the pain and blood gushing as you wailed.

You could count other ways that would be better than feeling metal graze and nick at them. You could've asked for simply to be drugged, to face death by his hands, to bleed onto the ground that he walked on.

However, death was not a fate worse than this. And Lyney— rather, the Lyney you see now, not the one you know of— was a man who had a manic streak hidden under that smile.

As he yanked the nineteenth tooth out of you, he turned his head down to see blood drip down and stain your clothes. He scowled and placed his pliers down with four teeth now on his right side, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe the blood away.

He knew it was pointless. You did, too.

Maybe it was a way to distract yourself from the pain, and for him to justify his actions in doing such a thing.

Alas, delusions can only take you so far, and pain is karma's many mistresses. One of many that everyone in the manor is familiar with, you and Lyney included.

"Shhh..."

He began to dab the cloth more as blood spilled and tainted the fabric, his smile empty of its sympathy for your decision to lie to him. All he could see before him was his darling, whose way, way too stubborn for his good.

And one that is good to make him lose his patience.

"I have warned you, haven't I?" he asked, his voice chilling yet sickeningly sweet while he pulled the handkerchief away. Tossing it to a direction he could care less to look, he grabbed another from his hat to continue his 'treatment'.

"If you had simply stayed truthful, you wouldn't have to loose your teeth! And yet, you didn't listen," he concluded, tutting as you sobbed and turned your head from him.

"I pity you, my dear hare. But it's the price to pay with how you didn't listen to my warnings."

When the blood stopped spilling, he placed the bloodied fabric and stared at his handiwork. From the answers he got from you, he was quite... Intrigued with what you told him.

"Now... I'm going to ask you one more time."

Grabbing the now bloodied pliers, he positioned it to your twentieth tooth, ignoring the sobs you let out and your gaze full of fear.

"Do you prefer my dear sister, Lynette?"

He could hear your breath heave as the metal 'teeth' of the pliers began to tighten.

However, the answer you gave him was interesting... Especially when you whispered out 'yes' with your greatest efforts.

...

"Is that so?"

He couldn't help but laugh. So, you do prefer Lynette, his sister... Over him? What a farce!

He may care for his sister to death, but he would rather have you than her survive to be his lifelong assistant.

Especially now that his 'Father' gave him the role of Knave, and how his siblings have been punished for trying to go against him and save that sorry excuse of magician. Himself.

"Ah, I see how it is," he said, his voice merely a wheeze as his hand shook. However, it went still and firm once more, and he gave you a lopsided smile.

"Do you remember what I've told you before, hm? Back when we were simply 'survivors' in this forsaken manor?"

Your body shook.

"Magicians generally do not reveal the core secrets behind their tricks," he said, his smile widening. "And especially if it concerns their heart. However, I may just revoke that if you call me 'Master Lyney' and swear to be my only assistant— and only me."

He could see that you were shaking even more, and the fear was what drove him mad. Alas, he knew that he might nick at your gums if he got too rough.

Not that you mind, right?

"I'm curious how much of it you'd understand," he concluded, leaning over to continue in a whisper.

"And how long you'd last, hehe~"

And thus, he yanked your twentieth tooth, causing your screams to erupt all through the barren town and the Illusionist to shiver in glee. He always enjoyed the thought of performing, but maybe he has lost it while staying here for so long.

Putting the pliers away, he hushed you and began to rock your body, uncaring of the sobbing and your blood staining his attire.

"I just wish to make a point. And I hope you understand that, my assistant."

Alas, the day cannot last forever. Lyney knew that, and it's why he decided to do one last trick.

Covering your eyes, he grabbed a crimson red handkerchief— one tainted with your blood— and covered your face. With a whisper, he pulled it away, leaning back to see his handiwork.

"And... Voila!"

He seemed rather smug as he saw teeth were back in your mouth, each one untainted and straight like new. Still, the damage was done, as you continued to sob and wail, begging for him to not do it again.

...

That day didn't end in a simple denture fix, that he's certain of.

But he utilized what 'Father' taught him all those years ago.

And that was good enough.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

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jo-harrington · 7 months

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Jo, give me something fucked up about teeth. Dealers choice.

Oh my love, ask and ye shall receive.

This could be any of our boys...but I think you know exactly who this is. Happy Birthday Meg, my love, my life, my cheeseburger.

Pairing: Some specific actor with (allegedly) fake teeth who shall not be named x Fem!Reader

Warnings: RPF, smut (P in V), teasing, power play, oral fixation, and obviously TEETH.

"Take them off."

"Excuse me?"

"Your teeth." You panted heavily. "Off."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing right now.

You were both in your underwear, playing your little drawn out striptease foreplay to see who could make the other cum first--or beg first, it really didn't matter--without letting it really get to the main attraction. Truth be told, neither of you had time for this kind of game, but you always made the time.

This wasn't a relationship; one could barely even call it an affair.

It was...a fling, a hookup, an every-so-often occurrence that happened at a hotel whenever the two of you were in the same city on business or "coincidentally" had long-enough "layovers" at the same airport.

What began as drinks and conversation shared in some overrated, overcrowded airport lounge turned into the bearing of the soul to another familiar face that lived and died by their travel itinerary, and then the bearing of each others bodies.

And although he might have told you about his...hang-up about his teeth before, he never considered that you'd put two and two together on your own and realize it was a way for him to...tame the beast, so to speak.

Or agitate it, if the right buttons were pushed.

"Take. Them. Off," you repeated again. You stopped and sat back on his thighs and crossed your arms over your chest. "If we're gonna kiss, I don't want to cut my tongue on the bridge of your false teeth."

"We don't have to kiss to have a good time," he pouted and put his hands on your thighs, hoping to tempt you closer and back into a delicious rhythmic friction against him.

This was fun for both of you, why did it need to stop?

" I like kissing and this is my hotel room," you reminded him, barely budging. "And I can make it all worth while for you if you just do as I say, Joseph."

The force behind his name made him twitch.

It was a battle of the wills.

It always was, actually.

He could play important celebrity card, with his managers and pr reps and publicists and thousands of fans that screamed his name no matter how dead it made him inside.

He didn't have to fit you in.

But you also had your cards to play, with your conference calls and pitch meetings and a job that was infinitely more impactful and probably more profitable than his could ever be.

So you could honestly say the same.

But you'd let him win last time, so it was your turn now. Wasn't it?

Still he hesitated as he tongued along the metal bar that lined the backs of his incisors.

This wasn't you playing to his oral fixation; this wasn't you painting the taste of yourself over his lips with the tips of your fingers or stuffing your panties in his mouth because he was in your room and your boss had the next room over. This was you peeling back his defenses and seeing the heart of him, shining a light into the deep and twisted corners of his mind.

Did he want you to stick your tongue in the gaps between his incisors and his molars? Yes. Did he want to bite you hard enough to leave a mark and then see the break in the imprint on your skin? Also yes.

But he also didn't want you to have to see the chip in his armor, one that he'd been made fun of before time and again. The thing that made his first ever stylist cringe when he posed and smiled for a photoshoot.

He'd gone to the dentist with the check from that ad campaign and gotten the fake teeth fitted.

"Don't do that," they told him, words that echoed in his head as he had the impression tray in his mouth. "Don't smile so big. Don't smile at all. You're handsome enough; no one wants to see that."

But now you wanted to see it, you wanted to see him and know him and fuck the him that was imperfect. Consume the part of him that no one wanted. The one that got erased by a careful crafted facade and sometimes an AI filter...by both friends and fans alike.

You both had confessed to one another, after the second or third time you'd "run into each other" that...family and close friends aside...it was hard to travel to all these places and be a name, a job, a reputation...and not yourself.

So he wanted you to see him.

He hungered for it.

And against his better judgement, he forced his tongue against the metal to push the bridge out of his mouth. He tried to be quick to throw it onto the bedside table, but your hand shot forward and you grabbed his wrist.

"I thought you wanted to kiss," he mocked you now. He pressed his tongue flat against the roof of his mouth and felt the familiar comfort that came with fiddling with the gaps. "Needed a kiss so badly."

"I do," you nodded, your eyes locked with the metal and porcelain. "And we will."

"But..."

Your grip on him loosened once you knew he wouldn't wrench his hand away. Your fingers danced up his arm, then over his fingers, until you plucked the bridge from his grasp to inspect it.

He watched, entranced, as you tilted your head and analyzed the dental device.

His hand stayed frozen in the air...until you shifted forward once again and ground down onto his cock, your slickness already soaked through your panties and the Dior boxer briefs that he was obligated to wear, creating a sticky drag that caused him to groan.

You bucked, over and over until he felt like he was about to reach the precipice. Both of you moaned, the truth silent and thick in the air that you were truly just using him to chase your own pleasure, all the while doing all of the little things that made him weaker than you. Made him lose himself before you could.

Your rhythm stuttered purposefully, dragging your clit over his sensitive head, over and over. Rolled your hips up and forward so the softness of your ass rubbed against him, cradled all of him just so.

And the kicker was you did all this by instinct, muscle memory as you pointedly ignored him, ignored his want for your eyes locked with his as you challenged one another, so you could overanalyze the contraption that made him perfect in the eyes of his fans. The lie.

And then you stopped. Right as he was panting and whining and begging without words.

You moved the false teeth to one of your arms and ran the perfect ridges along your skin.

"You know in all the times we've done this, you've never bitten me before," you told him matter-of-factly.

"I...wha--" He was at a loss for words.

"Bitten me," you repeated. You had to repeat yourself a lot tonight. "I thought you would have done it by now."

"Why would I?" he questioned.

"Why wouldn't you?" you retorted. "I think we get into it enough sometimes that...spur of the moment, lack of judgement...just a little nibble."

"First you want a kiss," he huffed in laughter. "Now you want a hickey. Getting needy now, aren't you, love?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, and in a move most unexpected, you shoved the teeth in your mouth. Clenched between your teeth, his bite pattern obviously not a match for yours, but it made for a morbid set of vampire fangs. His cuspids clenched between your incisors.

You then shifted and peeled his underwear back to squeeze his shaft, skin to skin, hot and spit and slick. And it made him see stars, he was close, closer now that you did...all of this.

For the briefest second as you peeled your own panties to the side and sunk down onto him, he questioned everything, questioned his life as the warmth engulfed him and he saw God.

Why would you do this? What had changed? When had two lonely souls sharing drinks and stale bagels and secrets and sex turned into...you sucking on his teeth while you rode him to oblivion.

Then again...he had always been into some wild things. Things that he knew he had to give up since he became a household name. Was this just...did something inside him immediately recognize a kindred soul...slightly lost...slightly yearning for the life they left behind when an immense expectation became too much to bear.

He had wanted you to consume him. Maybe this was the two of you consuming each other...

You grabbed his hand and maneuvered him to pleasure you, to rub and play with you, to get you to the edge that you'd so successfully gotten him to so you could launch yourself into wanton irresponsibility together.

As he moved his fingers, as you shifted your hips, his mouth moved in a similar fashion. Teeth clenching, tongue flicking, silent oh's and ah's that sparked a wicked idea inside of you.

You shifted forward, leaned your head closer to his, breathed heavily through the bridge clenched in your teeth...swiveled your hips, once twice...then you kissed him.

And he came.

#stranger things fanfiction #tw: smut #tw: teeth #for meg #normies stay out #tw: rpf

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