100% trash. it's always x black reader here!I write for marvel/(könig)/one piece. hiatus Have your age in bio! ask box is half open she/her 23. I'm here for anime and baking! Black Af. one piece and fate have me by the choke hold. you can ask anything!
Local Austrian man manages to woo and disgust a lady in 5 minutes
König x black reader
A/N: shame you just can't seem to shake that man off. A second part to bite me. Love me. Some time has passed in the story. Reader goes to watch a movie at königs house. Reblogs are appreciated. Smut. Not proofread
Tag list: @thatmusedhatter @himboelover @canyonswft13 @montenegroisr @kneelingshadowsalome @havikshoochiemama @wordstome @lanalafey
"Hey :)"
.... It's him again
"So what that guy who pulled out a knife out on your date??"
"Yeah. Then he won't stop messaging me, and pulled up at my house."
"Yeah.....he also bought you a coat. Which you're now wearing. To his house...."
It's time for your friend to mind her business...
" .... if I didn't go to his he'd just come to mine!"
Which isn't false he's done so multiple times since your first date. To give flowers, pick you or simply because he was bored. Maybe if you know where he lives it will give you a leg up on him?? Find some dirt on him. Something, anything!
♡
His place is nice. Way nicer than you could have thought, his city house seemed like the safer option. simple and clean, honestly, it looked like no one lived here, there's no pictures or trinkets. No items that could even tell you anything about say for the stack of cd's on the table. Old school. That's all you got.
"......."
"....."
you can't enjoy this movie. It feads in the background, while static plays in your head and tingles in the back of your eyes. The week's been a little bit too rough with you. There isn't a support network here like there is back home, no friends you run to, calling them just isn't the same. you need to talk and cry to someone. You need some comfort. You need to be held.
It's his thumb wiping away the tears from your eyes that brings you back. "What's wrong?" so wrapped up in your feelings, you forget how close he was, cradling your face in his hands as he inspects you. leaning down to get a closer look at you, blurry eyed mess
You can't help it , burst into tears hard, choosing to hide away in his shirt than face him. He holds you close to his chest, pulling you in, allowing you to take out your emotions on his chest. He's so warm.
"I-I've just ha - had a rough week. --Been really str-stressed. " it's hard to get the sentence out between hiccups it's silly. You couldn't even point a finger to any one thing that upset you. It just felt awful inside. Tight so wound up why bother telling him. But it wouldn't stop you kept crying.
His touch is spreading warthm all over you, from the hand that rubs your head to your back. To think he could be so gentle. That you'd fine solice in this man.
"It's okay. A rough week can be fixed. I will help you. I'll be here for you"
Oh, he's being so kind.
This is it ,This is the comfort you've been missing, feeling you've been craving. His body so warm and steady next to yours. This is-
"Having an orgasm will help you calm down and relax"
.....
UGHH!
And just like that, the spell is broken, veil lifted. This man is no longer comforting or sweet. The arm around no longer comforting, you quickly need his hands off you.
Yet His hand still remains.
The disgust in your eyes is apparent, too strong for him to brush off as he quickly moves to explain himself.
"Female or help realise endorphins and make you feel all happy. If I eat you out, it will make you all warm and fuzy inside. You can stop thinking for a bit-
[Cut the fucking cameras]
His rambling fades out as you stare blank eyed at this man. Is, is he really trying to justify why he should get to eat you out.... ugh oh gosh that's what you get for trusting this man. time to leave
"It's fine, just lie down it's fine." You're snaped out of thoughts by his hands, moving you to lie down.
"König!" He's wrestling you down before you can complain.
"Shh, sshh, it's fine, darling. I'll take those nasty thoughts away"
It happens a little bit too quickly, the tugging of your pants, discarding of your underwear before you know it he's staring at your bare pussy and suddenly realise how serious he is about this
"Wait könig-"
He doesn't waste any time, that's for certain. Fucking his tongue into you, he eats like he's been longing for this like this was the only moment for him. Feeding the deep ache in his stomach.
Your legs hurt, pulled so far apart over his shoulder, Somethings stiring deep in your stomach. it's hard to breathe... It's so hard to fight it, to not clench around the tongue working at you.
"Ahhhh"
The sounds he's pulling from you are embarrassing, too desperate to be yours. It sounds foreign to your ears.
It's hot in your belly, pleasure shooting around your brain. you're struggling to form a sentence, pushing his head further in you
"König!"
You'd never said his name like that before, so sweet and needy.It made him stop the words rolled in his head he licked his teeth coming up.
you whine a little. he looks so big. Seeing his face, the evidence of his hard work, your pleasure dripping down his face. It's so embarrassing.
He needs to hear it again, that desperate voice of yours crying his name. He can use his fingers on you, see your desperate face while you cry out his name. But no luck, you felt him everywhere, the fingers deep in you, the hand holding your shoulder down, lips on your neck. What a heavy burden this man is. You're nothing but a crying mess under him
He's right it did clear your head. you feel a lot better now
♡
He let's you catch you breath. Pulling you up to lie on his chest. Your brain feels fuzzy, mouth heavy and dry.
That feeling between your legs won't go away. The ache is still there. You can't look him in the eye it's too embarrassing can't voice what you want, just want him again. Tugging his arm to your legs
He hums and happily to oblige
[ könig in his diary tonight. I think she's warming up to me! :)]
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⚠️ NSFW, yandere content, alcoholism, reader got tradwifed, stockholm syndrome, domestic violence, Ivan is very blatantly sadistic, size difference, dacryphilia, vague breeding kink, no use of Y/N, forced feminization(?), gender neutral reader.
hey yawll!! i drew this since i wanted to play more with the painting style and color palette i did in my last post, but since i hit 800 followers recently, i decided to write something to go along with it too!
thank you guys so so much for putting up with my bs and enjoying the slop i create LOL. hopefully this will be enough to thank you all and to satiate you guys till i come back from hibernation again 🩵🙏
also!! while this is a gender neutral reader, ivan still refers to you as a housewife. this is pretty much an extension of the headcanon post i did on him.
MAN I NEED TO RECONNECT WITH NATURE AFTER THIS 😭😭😭
┊͙✧˖*°࿐
The average heart rate of a rabbit is a hundred and eighty beats per minute. Much, much faster than a human's at only a hundred, the little hearts of rabbits pump virile blood into their vulnerable bodies in order to outrun the cursed life of a prey animal they have no choice but to live.
Living with Ivan feels the exact same way. You, a human, were reduced to nothing but a prey animal whose only line of defense was either freeze or flight. Ivan prefers the freeze response. Tries to squeeze it out of you as much as he can.
The morning begins normally. You wake up next to his large, minimally clothed body, while you're bundled up as much as physically possible. You don't understand how he's so comfortable in the cold, but you've learned not to liken him to humans. You gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. It takes a while for Ivan to wake up, he's a heavy sleeper, but when his violet eyes finally open and dilate at the sight of you, the first thing he does is smile and pull you in to trap you in a strong bear hug. Don't struggle, he'll just tighten his grip. Then he kisses your cheek, and just holds you there without saying anything. He'll grumble a little when you tell him you have to leave bed to make breakfast, but he eventually will let you go.
It's a little sick how your current living situation makes chores the best part of your day, given how it allows the most proximity between you and Ivan. Cooking in the early morning is your favorite, since it takes Ivan a long time to recover from his hibernation. Thinking about what to cook is a bit of a meditative process as well, allows you to think thoroughly about anything other than your way of life and the man keeping you here.
Today, you decided to make something simple and similar to something you ate growing up. Luckily, Ivan is not a picky eater, even though he rather obviously prefers Slavic food. He'll eat whatever you make happily, but he'll be in even better spirits if you make something familiar to him.
You do not cook in silence. Silence has quickly become one of your biggest pet peeves since your captivity, and you do anything to drown it out. This damn empty mansion, the way Ivan is so terrible with his words and chooses instead to crush you with his actions, the bleak snowy landscape that greets you if you dare try and find any solace outside of this cage and your captor– It's enough to drive anyone insane. So, you pass the days by drowning out your thoughts with music and movies.
Ivan doesn't allow you a cellphone, or anything remotely modern at all. His home has a terrifying dedication to being so analog, you'd think you'd been transported to the 90's if not for the TV with a few streaming services on it, the only modern piece of technology he allows. He likes to collect cameras, radios, and old phones. Ivan's menagerie of antique goods is so expansive that it earned itself its own room. It's almost like a small museum, and you're very glad he allows you to look at and touch them as you pleased– with care, of course. He can actually be rather charming when he acts as your "museum guide" in this room. One of the few times you find yourself thinking anything remotely positive about him.
Ivan's voice is soft, it always is, but when he talks about these things he's so passionate about and so engrossed in, it takes on a bit more of a stern, confident tone that is easier for you to listen to. And when he's looking at the objects he's explaining, you can admire his side profile more openly. He's caught you multiple times (he has surprisingly sharp senses), and you're met with a flustered smile instead of the usual so-sweet-to-the-point-it-looks-fake type of smile.
"What are you looking at?" He'd ask, his voice quieting back down to that syrupy tone.
"Just you." You'd reply, which makes him pause in surprise for a second, before it earns a soft giggle from the towering man.
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Vanya." The nickname makes him melt. "You just looked pretty."
The smile falls from his face, and his cheeks redden even more than you thought possible, before his grin returns tenfold. He laughs and looks away.
The memory of such interactions make you feel like buttering up to the man instead of rejecting him so much, then you realize you're just describing stockholm syndrome. As crazy as it is, it feels like, at this point, it'd be better to let it happen than to be aware and hateful every day you live here.
As if your thoughts had alerted him, you hear Ivan's deceptively soft footsteps descend the stairs. He doesn't say anything, and just makes his way to the kitchen to watch you.
He's dressed in more clothing now, a dark blue sweater and gray sweatpants. His neck is left bare around you. When you first met him, his clothing that purposefully covers his neck always went unnoticed by you, because such clothes fit him so well, like they were always meant to be there. It was only after your capture, when he took off his scarf and you saw the bandages around his pale neck did you start to question it.
You've never outright asked him, you worry the subject is too volatile. He just... decided to stop hiding it one day. It was after a shower when you first saw it, the ligature marks around his neck and a few faded pink scars on the front of his adam's apple. Ivan noticed you staring, and you've never seen him look so small and insecure before.
"Is it bad?"
"No." You shake your head. "Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore."
And that was that.
You finish plating up two dishes, one with a significantly heftier portion than yours considering how much he eats. You quickly place the chopping board and all the pans you used in the sink to wash later, and you bring the dishes to the table.
Ivan yawns, rubs at his eyes, and without much event, just picks up a knife and a fork and starts eating. You do the same only after fetching some tea from the samovar.
Breakfast is always quiet besides the background noise of whatever media you chose to play.
"Mm. Ёжик в тумaне?"
"Yeah. I like this one."
"A little somber, isn't it?"
"The hedgehog is cute. I relate to it a little bit."
Ivan takes his eyes off of the television to look at you, and ponders what you said a little more. He doesn't say anything, and continues eating.
"What will you be doing today?" You ask, in case you needed to iron some clothing or prepare extra food for guests.
He hums in thought for a moment. "I'll be going out in the evening to drink with the other nations."
"What will you be wearing?"
"What I usually do."
You nod, "I'll have it ready soon."
"What about you?" He asks.
"Hmm... I'll wash the dishes, then iron and press your clothing. After that, I'll think of what to cook for lunch while cleaning the house, and I'll prepare a meal for you before you leave. Then while you're away, I'll clean up some more and prepare dinner. And if I have some time, I'll sit and watch some more movies."
Ivan hums in satisfaction. He enjoys how strict to routine your lives were. Familiarity and stability are what he desires most, and he believes you're the only one who can grant him that wish.
"Perfect." He smiles, petting the crown of your head with a large, broad hand.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You adjust the dusty pink scarf around his thick neck after finishing wrapping the scars on his throat with bandages. You do it neatly and comfortably, as opposed to how Ivan does, quickly and efficiently, learned from decades of routine, yet it's still so much more uncomfortable compared to when you do it.
"How is it?" You ask. Ivan replies by taking your smaller hands in his and leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.
"You do it perfectly, любовь моя." He sighs, before pouting slightly. "I wish I could just stay home."
"You'll be alright, Vanya. Alcohol is like water to you anyways."
He snickers and rolls his eyes. "That just means it'll be boring for me, then."
"Just try to have fun and relax. I'll be safe and quiet here."
A mousy smile appears on his pink lips. You've said exactly what he wants to hear. "Alright. I'll just get it over with." He presses one last kiss to the top of your hair before leaving.
"Don't cause any trouble!" Ivan sings, before exiting the living room and closing the door behind him. You get a glimpse of the blindingly white outside world, and a gust of stinging cold air brushes against your skin like a warning.
You let out a taut breath, finally feeling like you're able to breathe without his crushing presence. You dust off your hands, from nothing in particular, before going off to do just as you said to him earlier. It bothers you how much he still affects you without even being around.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
The sky is dark, and all that is heard is the droning of soft music and the burbling of something boiling on the stove. Its tranquility is broken by the door opening with more aggression than usual.
"Vanya?" You call out, hoping the sweet usage of his nickname would quell whatever spawned this roughness within him.
All you hear is something vaguely resembling a groan and a sigh, and his heavy, thudding footsteps. Your heart starts to race a little.
"Is something wrong, Vanya?" You ask meekly, approaching him with caution. He reeks of alcohol, and his movements seem all sluggish. Jesus, how much did Russia of all people need to drink in order to get this wasted?
"I'm alright." He huffs, taking off his gloves and his coat with slight difficulty. You step in closer to help him undress, taking off his scarf. You don't miss how he tenses up, so you freeze and meet his constantly intense stare to gauge his expression. His eyelids are low, pupils contracted, eyes darker than usual, and cheeks flushed like they always are. He seems to be pouting a bit. He doesn't do much else, so you continue, stripping him of his large overcoat. All he's left in now is a black sweater and thick brown slacks.
"I've made dinner. You can just sit wherever you want and I'll bring it to you–"
Ivan leans in so quickly, you couldn't even register it in order to dodge or deflect his kiss in time. This time, it lands on your lips. He doesn't do this usually at all, unless he was planning something. The blood drains from your face when his large hand finds the back of your neck, and holds it stiff, preventing any chance of backing out.
His skin and the inside of his mouth are impossibly warm, and the bitter, sterile taste of vodka is the only damn thing invading your senses. You grip the fabric of his knitted sweater, it makes him part from your lips to pant like a dog and take said piece of clothing off, now left in a dark gray shirt.
"V-Va– You taste like alcohol–"
"Get drunk off of me." He whispers, before grabbing the sides of your arms and kissing you tongue first, lapping at your lips, and at this point, you learned better than to deny him. With all the mental fortitude you could muster, you rigidly part your lips. Despite all your efforts to be as pliant as possible to try and guarantee your safety, you can't help the shiver of revulsion when his tongue invades your mouth like a parasite and rubs against yours.
It feels like time slows down, you can feel the milliseconds before your instincts kick in, and each millisecond feels like a year of dread. Unable to stop raw instinct, you bite down.
Your heart stops when you hear him grunt, and feel his grip around your arms tighten before he shoves you away. He gasps, cursing under his breath in his mother tongue before setting his sights back on you.
Doe-eyed and trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, you begin to plead.
"N-No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Vanya, please–"
He approaches, kicks the back of your knees, before you are grabbed by the scruff of your shirt. The collar of your blouse is yanked back and presses the fabric tightly against your throat as he drags you to the front door. You're coughing and struggling to regain your footing, and the moment you can breathe, you beg.
"Please! Nonono– Vanya please don't do this I'll be good–" The words tumble out like unorganized clutter using the one short breath you were able to catch.
With one more harsh tug, you fall to your knees again, and the door opens. The sight of the snow immediately triggers something within you, and you begin sobbing.
Ivan takes a peak at you, seemingly taking pity.
"Only for a few minutes."
You shake your head in a frenzy, not believing a word he says. Even if he was saying the truth, you'd much rather continue to humiliate yourself over being outside for even a few seconds. What if he forgets about you? What if that door never opens again? What if you die a miserable death, separated from your survival by just a few inches of wood?
That's why, the moment he throws you out, you scramble to your feet and shove that damned door open before he can fully close it. You know you're in deeper shit when you hear the door slam against him, and the deep yelp that follows it. You run for your life into the confines of his house.
You quickly make way to one of the bathrooms, the only rooms in the house you're still able to lock from the inside. You knew even that meant nothing, since you're sure Ivan could and would break them down without a second thought. Yet, it was still your best shot.
You lock the bathroom door and sit on the flooring right next to it. You try to calm down your heartrate and your heaving so you could try and listen in on whatever was going on outside this room.
Eerie silence is what greets you. You hate it, hate it so much. Shuddering, you hold your breath and strain your ears just a little more.
And that's when you hear it.
Soft footsteps.
You have to bite back a scream from how much raw fear that little sound sends shooting through your nervous system. Makes your skin crawl so bad that it almost hurts.
Ivan's clearly not in any rush, but FUCK did you wish he'd just get it over with and sprint right at you. You're sure he knows where you are, he just likes to freak you out, you can tell. That sweet smile he always puts on is nothing short of sadistic, constantly has this look in his eyes, some kinda weird sparkle that tells you he enjoys watching you struggle beneath him. Knowing you'll be face to face with those very eyes shortly makes your ribs squeeze around your quaking lungs and heart.
The footsteps approach. You brace yourself for a rough kick to the door or a pipe slamming through it.
Instead, he knocks. This was wrong, what was happening? Oh, god, this was so much worse.
"I won't ask again."
Scrambling to the door, not even sparing any time to actually stand up, you open it. You wince when you strain your neck to look up and see the damage done to him by your outburst. A nasty, bloody bruise on the bridge of his tall nose and that same crimson liquid streaming down his nostril. Your chest shakes like a dying sparrow's.
"I-I'm sorry. Please."
And he smiles.
Ivan is actually, genuinely, extremely pleased right now. He's wanted this all along, for you to fear the outside world so much you'd do anything in the world to stay here, right by his side. He doesn't give a single shit about the injuries you've caused him now and in the past, he's strong, he can take it, and he'll always forgive you over and over again. Of course, it makes him annoyed, because what good housewife would beat their husband like that? But he understands that your circumstances aren't exactly normal, so he'll endure it with irritation. At the rate he's breaking you in, though, you'll soon be as pliant and obedient as he expects you to be. Perhaps you'll even start to love him back. Just the thought of it raises goosebumps on his porcelain skin and makes his hands tremble in excitement.
You don't understand why he's giggling right now.
He sighs your name, and crouches down to meet your stare. You flinch as a droplet of blood hits the tiles. Ivan's grin only widens when your shaking hands reach for his face and try to wipe the blood away.
"O-Oh, Ivan," You whine uselessly, getting up on boneless legs to grab the first-aid kit. He watches with bright, amused eyes. He knows you won't try anything anymore. He's confident in your compliance to him.
As carefully as you can, you wipe off the blood with paper towels, crying harder when it smears instead of going away completely like you'd hoped. It felt like your mistakes were going to be impossible to fix.
Ivan's cheery gaze never falters. Maybe this is the happiest you've ever seen him, despite the blood streaming into the gaps of his teeth and forming a grotesque image. Dusty eyelashes frame his smiley crescent moon eyes, cheeks ruddy as little alcohol-stained puffs of air pollute the cold atmosphere. You jolt when he chuckles throatily.
"What's wrong?" His voice is as sickly sweet as it always is.
"Y-You're mad– I made you mad. I'm sorry." You choke on your own words, trying your best not to drop the bottle of disinfectant in your weak hand.
"What did you do?"
"I–" You hiccup, "I d-didn't– I didn't listen to you. I wasn't good."
Unable to hide his pleasure, he laughs and leans in to give you a chaste, bloody kiss.
"It will be okay. I love you."
You're glad your crying masks the gag reflex that almost makes itself apparent when you know what you have to say next. You steel your nerves and dryly swallow the taste of Ivan's blood.
"I love– I love you too."
He gives you a pleased, closed-mouth smile, and presses a kiss to the top of your head before taking the bottle of disinfectant from you. He begins to tend to his own wounds.
"This does not mean I forgive you, though."
Just as you felt your whole world crashing down around you, Ivan saves you.
He breathes out a laugh, "No, I won't throw you outside again. It's much better staying inside with me, yes?"
You nod in a frenzy. "Yes! Y-Yes, much better. Please don't."
"Well," Ivan prefaces, disinfecting the cut on his nose before placing a bandaid on it. He turns his head to the side and spits out the blood left in his mouth. "You will have to tend to this wound. Kiss it better." And before you could even wonder what he meant by that, his tongue lolls out, brandishing the red bite mark from earlier.
Disgust registers for only a second.
Like an automaton made solely to serve, you lean forward, grasp onto his biceps, and press a needy, desperate kiss to his drooling tongue. He laughs while you lap at his tongue like a wounded dog, warm, alcoholic breaths brushing against your face.
After relishing in the feeling of your worship for a little longer, he gently pushes you to the ground and crawls over your jittery body, placing a hand against the small of your back to hold you up and closer to him, with the other gripping the outside of your thigh.
"You will not bite me this time?"
Nodding fearfully, praying the conviction in your eyes will be enough to warrant his forgiveness, you wrap your arms around his neck.
Sighing happily, he presses his cold lips against yours, taking the lead happily as he moans into the kiss. The sound was more out of the satisfaction of establishing his dominance rather than the actual physical pleasure.
Ivan doesn't usually indulge in sexual fantasies or acts, which surprises you considering how touchy the man is. His mind usually favors daydreams of a stable, domestic life with you. Ivan prioritizes establishing your relationship over anything else, so he doesn't really find the time to lull over menial things like sex. Marriage is one thing, but your total submission is another.
Then again, this doesn't mean that he fully doesn't have any carnal desires when it comes to you. It's you, for christ's sake. When his fantasies of dominance come into play, it seems only obvious that sometimes his thoughts wander into the bedroom.
Ivan fantasizes a lot about having you desire him as much as he does you. He wants you to need him like air. Wants to have you mewling his name and clinging to him like your life depended on it, which would quite literally be the case right now. Wants to see your pretty, pretty tears reserved only for him. Wants to see you fall apart in his arms over and over again while comforting you so meanly and kissing your crying face.
Ivan tries his best to not let these thoughts make themselves apparent, but fuck, do you make it so hard sometimes. How could any man not be affected by the sight of their adorable little housewife in an apron? Takes so much for him to not just grab you by your hair and bend you over the counter. Whenever you cry for whatever reason, he almost feels guilty over how instantly horny it makes him. Almost feels guilty when all he can think about is licking those tears off of your face and making himself the cause of them. God, he wants to play the role of a nice doting husband so bad, but he can't help but feel you up and breathe down your neck when you try on the dresses and lingerie he buys for you. He can't help grabbing your waist and pressing his erection against your ass– not on purpose, he just wanted to be close to you.
While aggressive in his approach, Ivan never forces any sexual acts that you refuse. Even if he's left high and breathing heavy, he still wants to be someone you don't completely hate. Be a good husband, be a good husband. He always chants to himself. All his prayers proved fruitful when he quite literally cried tears of joy during your first time together.
Ivan doesn't know what was different that day, he didn't expect anything, just to make out and have you reject him after a bit, but you just... kept going, until he was ramming into you, hands tight around your sweaty waist and fucking into you like you were just a fleshlight. He's never seen himself like this, moaning and gasping like a girl and feeling so fucking good that all that he wanted– all that he could think of was breeding you like a bull and how beautiful your family would be. God, the memory of you struggling, doing your best to take his thick cock and crying so cutely just trying to bottom out is engraved into the grooves of his brain. It makes his stomach feel all warm whenever he thinks of it. He wants to carve it under his eyelids so he can see it every time he blinks.
Ivan laughs a lot during sex, call him creepy, it's genuinely because he is just so damn happy that he can't hide it. Why should he hide it from you? He wants to show you just how much he loves you and how good you make him feel. You make him feel so damn happy and complete that all he could do was chant IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou– while whimpering, giggling, his tears dripping onto your face.
Maybe he'll get lucky again.
Without parting, Ivan carefully lowers your back to the tiled floor, straddling your body and snaking his long fingers under your blouse, resting them against your heated abdomen. He smiles into the kiss when you jolt away, tickled by how frigid they are.
The ends of his feathered gray hair tickles your wet face, your body shivering at all the different sensations attacking you simultaneously. The cold tiles, his freezing hands, his hot tongue, the faint taste of blood, the warm drool seeping out the side of your mouth, his arid breathing, the smell of alcohol–
Your hands, still by the back of his neck, reach up to ever-so-slightly tug at his hair to signal you needed a breather. Ivan makes a small noise of surprise, before pulling away.
He looks absolutely dazed, lips shiny with remnants of a spit trail, and lavender eyes heavy and glazed over with a feral lust. His breathing is labored, muscular chest rising and falling as he intently watches every minute expression your face makes. Despite the blatant lack of nudity, this might be the most erotic sight you've ever seen. Fuck, why does he have to look so good when you're supposed to hate him?
Right now, you were so exhausted you couldn't even remember what reason you'd have to hate him, despite there being enough that you could spend the rest of your life listing all of them down.
And just when you try to refuse by backing up, your thigh brushes against his boner and he lets out the most heated, breathy, shivery moan you've ever heard. The vocalization sounded like it was tailor-made to tantalize you, to tempt you into biting the fruit. And you know what? You were a sinner anyways.
"Bed– B-Bedroom."
A toothy grin appears on Ivan's face, and he exhales a breathy laugh. He looks absolutely delighted, and starved.
Without a second thought, he picks you up, and carries you to the closest one.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
The next morning begins normally. Your body is sore, and covered in bite marks. That was one of the best sleeps you've had in recent memory. Ivan seems to think so, too, with his arms cradling your torso and a hand resting over your lower abdomen. The ache reminds you about what happened yesterday, you can still feel him in there somehow.
You woke up a little later in the morning compared to usual. Since you're still a little too exhausted to get up and begin cooking, you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet howling of the wind outside. You wonder when was the last time you heard any birds chirping.
Thinking of the outside world brings you a bit of dread, don't really like doing it. But when your life is so isolated and so alone, misery can become a form of entertainment.
The more and more days go by, the more and more do you forget what your life was like before meeting the Russian. The longer you live with Ivan, the more does it feel that he was just always there, and that your life before meeting him was a falsified memory. You're not even sure how much time has passed since, it's always snowing outside, every day feels the same.
That's the one thing you remember from before this life, the feeling of warmth. You're not sure you remember the feeling of it, really, but you're well aware of the absence it leaves behind. Maybe when spring finally comes around, you can open that door, and...
Eyebrows furrowing as a migraine starts to set in, you shake your head weakly. You didn't like thinking about the outside.
Turning over to face Ivan, you gently wake him up before you leave the bed– you learned that he doesn't like waking up to an empty bed without any prior notice. He eventually stirs from his sleep, hugs you, and you do not struggle.
Sorry, im still on this, but bundus goal is to make sure you get the ick with your current boyfriend he wants you to look at the minor things that man does and scrunch your nose in disgust!!!
Bundus is the kind of man to say as long as you're happy. When you tell him about your new boyfriend, then name every bad habit your current boyfriend has.
"Strange guy, ain't he....."
All the things you never noticed. Every habit he has, both seen and unseen, laid out to you. Won't be able to look at him the same, will you?
When a frown comes across your face, he knows he's won. "Well, I'll see you around." So sumg as he leaves. He'll give y'all three days. You've always been picky with men.
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Thinking about alpha!ghost who never really learned to control his scent, and reader who's nose doesn't work right after an injury.
Which, of course, means you and ghost get along well.
You don't really understand why people tend to avoid ghost, probably something to do with the scents you'll never be able to pick up. Kyle says he just smells 'aggressive'. People give him space in response to social cues you don't recognize.
"Oh! Hi, simon!" You perk up when ghost finds you in the recroom. You scoot over so he can sit next to you, and tilt your head up so he can rub his wrist into your neck. "How was the briefing? Anything interesting?"
You pointedly ignore the looks people throw ghost. You're aware he can't control his scent, something many people love to complain about. Sure, it's probably rude to be broadcasting 'fuck off' constantly, but you don't think it warrants the grimaces and people leaving a room because of him.
You never stopped to consider he was smelling like anything other than aggressive until price pulled you aside.
"Look, kid, I know it doesn't bother you," price rubs a hand over his face, looking oddly uncomfortable "but you need to stop encouraging ghost. It's inappropriate."
"What?" You ask, genuinely confused. "What am I encouraging?? I'm not allowed to be friends with him??"
"No, you're not allowed to get him going." Price huffs. He narrows his eyes at you, silent for a moment, before letting out a pained sigh "bloody hell, kid. You do know he's been courting you, right?"
"...what." no fucking way.
"Yes. And he reeks of horny alpha all. The. Damn. Time." Price looks at you pointedly, as if this is your fault "it's not exactly pleasant for everyone else on base."
"Oh...oh gosh." You bury your face in your hands, replaying all the times you glared back at people, assuming they were just being mean. "Oh my god."
Price just stands, leads you back out of his office "i think you and ghost should have a chat."
"Yeah...yeah we should." You agree.
...you should probably take him somewhere off base before that chat. Yknow, to spare the others ghosts scent when you accept his courting.
Got an idea for a bundus fic but im not sure if I want to do it as an oc or x reader cause I do want more stuff out there for bundus fans but also the set up is for my oc. Decisions???
Simon paying for the groceries of a single mom trope, except he follows her home and she wakes up in the middle of the night to him in her baby’s nursery, soothing the little one after she woke up crying.
thinking about a captor who holds conversations with you by using a soundboard. like you're gagged and they have a bank of voice clips they forced you to record and they look at you and smile while they press the button for the response they want. they ask if you're okay with what they have planned for dinner and press the "yes" button themselves. they ask if you were good while they were away and press the "no" button themselves. they say they love you and kiss you through the gag as they press the "i love you, too" button themselves. not only do you have no voice but the voice you used to have has been reforged into yet another tool to hurt and control you
they give you the soundboard so you can ostensibly respond however you'd like but every audio clip has been replaced with the one where you're tearfully and spitefully saying "i love you"
Omg, bundus from gachiakuta is living rent free in my mind. Every time that man appears im not paying attention to ANYTHING! I need that man DESPERATELY!!!!
[If you see any fics or art of him please send them my way🙏🏾🙏🏾 or wat to fangirl about gachiakuta]
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CW. / afab reader, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), cumming inside, dumbification, blowjobs, handjobs, cunnilingus mentions, shower sex,, pegging, rimming, lmk if I missed anything else!!
A/N. / guys I wrote this over 2 days you can see me actually lose my mind as I get past/around follo's part, I genuinely was losing my mind, I just didn't know what I was writing anymore
CLEANERS.
ENJIN loves doggy style
he loves watching the way your back flexes, bonus points if you have any tattoos of sorts. but his ultimate favorite part of it is when his chest is against your back, he can feel everything, your heartbeat, your spine, and your ribs. it feels extremely intimate, like this is truly the closest you can be with someone.
his arms drape over yours, intertwining your fingers with his as his hips move in slow, gentle movements. he can feel your breathing pattern, feeling the way your breath hitches as he hits that sweet spot inside you. your face is buried into the pillow, enjin's fingers running over your own as he whispers praises into your ear.
“you're so fuckin' gorgeous, you know that? I feel like the luckiest man on the Ground when I'm with you.” his lips hover over your skin, kissing your shoulders, your back, the nape of your neck. it's nights like these, where you truly never want it to end.
ZANKA's favorite is cowgirl
watching the way you grind against him, his hands cuffed to the headboard, he's so desperate to touch you, to feel your skin against his as the squelching noise connecting you two floods his mind.
his upper teeth bite down on to his bottom lip, a feeble attempt to silence his noises. enjin is in the room next to him, and he can't be hearing how you make him beg so prettily. your hand reaches up to cup zanka's cheek, wiping the tears that stained his skin.
“can i— can i touch you? please?” he tugs on the cuffs, gaze turning to watch the way you swallow him up with each bounce of your hips, a whimper squeaking from his throat. “i've been s' good, been a good boy, wanna touch you so bad...” he sobs, shaking his head as you increase in pace. he's trying so hard to keep his noises down, but it's nearly impossible, you're squeezing him too fucking good.
“m' gonna— gonna come! oh my god! oh m' god!” zanka throws his head back, hips stuttering up as he releases inside you, going cross-eyed and hiccuping as he slowly comes down from his orgasm.
TAMSY adores any sort of standing position.
he loves how flexible you are, your knee over his shoulder, your other leg keeping you standing up. warm water runs down the both of you, the splashing keeping tamsy's moans hidden. his hand grips your knee, the other holding your hip to keep his own self steady.
beige hair sticks to his forehead, his body leaning in to press his lips against you, the position change making him hit against your g-spot with every thrust. “y' so good t' me, love you so much...” he mumbles against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip before pulling away and burying himself into the crook of your neck.
“m' gonna come, gonna come inside you, please!” he doesn't know what he's begging for, the pleasure going to his head as his hips stutter, sinking himself deeper into you, filling you up as his eyes roll back before he slowly calms down, allowing the warm shower water to wash over him.
BRO appreciates missionary
he loves being able to see your body, loves the way your face twists as he fucks so gently into you. it's been such a long day, taking care of trash beasts plus babysitting both dear and guita puts a toll on you.
so when bro fucks you all gentle like this, you know it's gonna escalate soon enough. your legs are holstered up on to bro's shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as his pace increases. fuck, it feels like heaven, hitting that sweet spot inside you with each slap of his hips against your own.
it's not long now before the need to come overwhelms you, one hand desperately reaching out before bro grabs it, his thumb rubbing against your palm as he spills right into your womb.
CORVUS loves any angle that shows your face
whether it's you on top of him, underneath, corvus appreciates all the angles that he can see your face from. but his most favorite is you between his legs, his cock in your mouth as your eyes never leave his.
he's impossible to take fully, so you have to jerk off whatever is unable to fit into your mouth. his hands are gentle, one grabbing the back of your head while the other cups your cheek. fuck, you're so fucking wet it's impossible to keep your noises down. but when he needs to, corvus can get a little rough on accident.
as his orgasm nears, his eyebrows furrow together, the hand on the back of your head pulling you nearly all the way down his dick, gagging on his length as he comes directly down your throat, but don't worry, he makes up for it by eating you out on his desk later.
GRIS is a simple man, who likes simple things
often you find yourself on top of gris, whether it's riding him or him eating you out like a man starved, gris prefers positions where you're above him. pegging him will have him biting the pillow, while riding him has him covering his mouth so the others don't hear him.
his hands grip the sheets tightly, knuckles turning white as your strap hits that exact spot that sends shivers down his spine. his hands soon reaching for his thighs to expose himself for you more, the grip he has on your dildo is near astronomical. “m' gonna come... if you keep hitting me there...” and that's enough to motivate you. you lean forward, hand curling through his hair to push his face right into the pillow, your hips slamming against his, abusing his prostate with each thrust. “oh— oh shit, oh m' god! that's... that's it baby, that's the spot— fuuuckkkk!”
his hands mindlessly wave before gripping your hips, and one final thrust has him squirming like a bug, heavy gasps escaping him as he comes all over the sheets. “so fuckin good baby...” you lean down, wiping the drool that ran down his chin.
AUGUST really loves having you in a mating press
it's his favorite because he loves how close the both of you are. his lips pepper kisses all over your jaw—hips pressing against your own as your feet are locked around his neck. august may be loud and proud outside the bedroom, but inside? he's nothing but a softie.
his hands run up and down your sides, like he's assessing every detail of your body. his fingers trail the scars that littered your skin, memorizing how each one was deeper than the last. he slowly pulls away from your neck, face hovering above yours as his hair becomes a makeshift curtain between the two of you.
“yer' goddamn gorgeous baby, you know that right?” you giggle, but it's quickly replaced into a soft moan, your fingers coming up to curl into august's hair as his hips gently brush against yours. “august...” your voice interrupts the silence, snapping august out of his daydream. you don't need to say anymore, it's like he knows you already, he practically knows you like the back of his hand.
FOLLO prefers positions with you in charge
a line of drool leaks from his lips as his hands attempt to grip at nothing. you've been fucking him for god knows how long, having him stuck in a full nelson, a mirror set in front of him to make him watch you fuck him stupid.
“please—please... need more... want more...” he mindlessly babbles, gaze turning to the mirror to watch your cock slam into him at full force. god he's so fucking dizzy. cock leaking and still sensitive from his earlier orgasms. “slow...” follo tries to speak, but it comes out as nothing more than a desperate whine, his fingers digging into his thighs to keep himself spread open.
“you treat me... s' good, love you so much.” follo whines, his toes curling as you slam against his prostate. “wanna come f' you, lemme... come..." with a loud whine, follo arches his back up, hips stuttering as his cum spurts on to the floor, painting the floor white before slumping back against your chest.
RAIDERS.
JABBER loves EVERYTHING.
he absolutely loves when you manhandle him, but his favorite is when he's on top of you, your tongue plunging right into his hole.
“shit mamas— fuck! so warm inside me...” he giggles, hips grinding against your mouth as his fingers grip your hair, pulling you in closer. his cock twitches between his legs, pre-cum dripping between your cheek and the bed beneath you. “fuckin' me so good, gimmie more.” jabber throws his head back, legs shaking as he struggles to keep himself up.
“fuck meeee... can I touch myself? please?” at your nod of approval, jabber is immediate to grab his cock, jerking off in time with the thrusts of your tongue. “y' make me feel so good, i'd kill to feel this every damn day.”
it's not long before jabber begins to get desperate, his orgasm closing in by the second, mankira cold against his heated skin before his hips buck up, spilling on to both the floor and your face.
FU doesn't have any favorites, he likes what you like
so when you fold him into an amazon, he's left a whimpering mess. you're so very mean, your hands gripping fu's ankles to give yourself a better angle, plunging yourself on to him with each bounce of your hips.
“s—stop! my legs can't bend... that far...” his hands desperately grab at anything, before landing on the sheets beneath him, gripping so hard that his poor knuckles turn white. “shut up.” and shut up he does, only little whimpers and gasps leaving him.
“I... I feel weird, ah— don't stop...!” fu throws his head back, hands lifting to grab your thighs as he stills himself, eyes lidded and breathing uneven.
BUNDUS loves spooning
he's a bit too big to really do anything, so having you cupped against his chest, one hand keeping your leg up as the other fondles your tits, it's like heaven to him.
“goddamn baby, dunno how much longer I can keep up.” his thick accent interrupts your thoughts, hips stuttering as he plunges straight into you, drinking in the soft groans that left his lips.
the hand on your thigh slowly snakes down to your stomach, feeling himself inside you. it's near enough to bring him over the edge. “I love ya' so much, y'know that sweetheart?” his voice cracks, craving you more and more before his hips thrust up one last time, coating your insides white with a loud moan.
ZODYL is into anything you're into
but his absolute favorite is cowgirl, he loves watching you straddle him, your hands grabbing his wrists to pin him to the mattress, your hair covering the both of you. he's not exactly loud either, soft wheezes and a few small groans, but he prefers to hear your voice over his, although if you ask, he'll be louder.
zodyl grunts as you slowly grind against him, dark grey streaks of hair against his forehead. you've been going at it for what feels like forever, zodyl's cock an oversensitive mess. he refuses to make eye contact, instead settling on the way you rubbed against his cock, not fully inside him, but simply rutting your cunt against him.
feels like hell, he wants to come, wants to pull away at the same time. his breathing's heavy, and he finally courages to look up at you, that confident smirk you wear makes him twitch, pre oozing out his slit. “my poor zodie... you wanna come?”
he responds with nothing but a simple nod, and with your permission, his orgasm nears. his hands escape your grasp, reaching for your hips to lift you up and slam you down on his cock, that action alone enough to make him come, filling you up before calming down from his high.
love the idea of soothing someone into submission. you've had a long day, sweetheart, why don't you let me do the thinking for a bit? i know you like to be in control, but it can be exhausting. surely you've earned a little relaxation after all your hard work. don't you want to rest a bit? unclench your jaw, relax your muscles, let your legs fall open. i want the only thought in that lovely head to be how good you feel.
the question makes you freeze in place as you roll out the dough for the pie crust. john's asked you that every year for the past seven years, and every year, you're not sure how to answer him. you could lie, tell him you want something simple and inexpensive like socks or a bigger mug for your tea, but he'll know you're not telling the truth. he already knows what you want, what you've wanted for the better part of a decade. this is just another one of his tests, one you're desperate not to fail.
"i don't know. i haven't thought about it." you lie, hoping to stall for time as you continue lining the tins for your mince pies. the christmas music playing softly on the radio makes the silence that stretches between you feel longer. heavier. you hear his heavy footsteps approaching behind you before you feel the heat and pressure of his hands squeezing your hips just a little too tightly.
"you know i don't like it when you lie t'me- and i can always tell when you're lyin' t'me." he murmurs in your ear, and you close your eyes tight, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall. you swallow hard as you try to regulate your breathing, try to keep your emotions from taking over. one hand unclenches from the fat on your hip, and tilts your head back to look at him, startling you into opening your eyes.
stern blue eyes meet yours as he looms over where you're sitting, and it's almost enough to make you cry. you can't ask for what you want- he won't give it to you, you're certain of it. but maybe you can ask for something else, a concession of some sorts?
"i- i was hoping maybe to get a leather cuff instead of the metal one? it gets so cold sometimes." you lie, immediately holding your breath as you watch his nostrils flare. for a moment, the two of you are silent, and you watch the way he inspects your face with the rapt attention of a predator seeking weakness in a herd before moving to strike.
a gentle stroke of his fingertips against your jaw precedes the soft smile that spreads across his face, and he ducks his head down to press a kiss to your forehead.
"i think that's doable, sweetheart. you've been an awful good girl lately." he murmurs against your hairline before bumping his nose into yours. "had me worried there for a moment, but i'm glad you've got that 'going home' business right out of your pretty head."
"i am home." you lie again before he slides his lips to meet yours for an upside-down kiss that you desperately do not want.
Vigilante who cums within like 2 seconds but he stays hard for 2 hours and just ruts into you over and over and over :3 like the room stinkkkkks the bed frame springs are worn out
hes such a FREAK you're literally sore and he keeps going and you finally ask if he's close and he just goes. oh I came like an hour ago. OKAY THEN LETS STOP!!!
Like, actual weight. His stomach, once clearly defined muscles, is now softened under a layer of fat. The same for his biceps, thighs, all of it just...softer.
It's odd, the guys have no clue why he's gaining weight because he still only eats whatever meals the mess has. And from the few times Johnny's been to his apartment, he knows ghost doesn't keep more than the bare essentials food-wise. It's a mystery.
That is, until they learn about you.
Ghost brings in a simple bento box one morning, and when questioned just shrugs. He says they're leftovers, but soap caught a post-it note on the inside of the box. He only got a glimpse of a little doodle heart before ghost was folding the paper up and tucking it in his pocket.
After hours of pestering, ghost finally admits "my neighbor makes 'em. Says the military doesn't feed me enough."
"Just your neighbor?" Kyle raises a brow, looking down at the honestly delicious food ghost has "I've never had a neighbor do that for me."
"Maybe it's because you're an asshole, bringing birds home late at night," ghost counters, pointing his fork at him. "'Sides, it's just leftovers. Makes 'em with whatever isn't eaten from our dinner."
"Your dinner? Like, collectively?" Soap questions this time. "Christ, ghost, you're sure this is just your neighbor?"
"Who else would it be?"
"It sounds like yer fuckin' partner, ghost." Soap explains, pointing at the bento box "yer having multiple dinners with someone, either in your own or their apartment, they make you meals with the leftovers, and write a note with a little heart? C'mon ghost."
Ghost doesn't speak for a long moment, staring at his meal, then "oh...hm. that's why they kissed me this morning"
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Tw: kidnapping, delusional behavior, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, implied emotional abuse. Read with caution. I do not condone any harmful behavior shown here. This is purely fictional content made for storytelling and character analysis purposes based on the horror game wh4t 1 w0uldn't d0 prototype by s1ckh34d. All credit for the original character and concept goes to them.
The first time he took you headcanons +scenarios
☆He moves like smoke, already inside before your eyes even flutter open. The door was unlocked. Maybe you were tired. Maybe fate stepped in and he thinks you were finally ready. He watches you nap for a full minute not because he doubts himself. He's savoring it. Your eyelashes twitch, you sigh. He tilts his head, smiling like a man standing before a painting.
“I always knew you'd look small in my bed.”
The first thing you feel is pressure. A hand on your mouth, soft but unyielding then another gripping your wrist.
☆He whispers your name like a lullaby, calm, soothing, fake. “Shhh don't scream. It's just me.” If you thrash, he grips tighter. If you cry, he murmurs how beautiful your voice is.
Wrapped in the same blanket he laid out for you weeks ago.
☆He cradles your weight like he's lifting a gift oh he dreamt of this, of you, as his bride.
☆He speaks to you as if you're awake and willing in the truck bed, in the silence through the winding road back to the farm. “I know it's scary... But you'll see you'll feel it soon.”
A romantic first night together.
☆He's not treating you like a prisoner yet. He's treating you like a skittish animal or a frightened partner who just needs time to adjust.
☆He fantasized about laying you down in his bed for weeks. Strapping you to a chair is too clinical, too aggressive. It doesn't fit his fantasy of domestic bliss. He's convinced that if you just stay, you'll come around. So restraints feel unnecessary to him at this stage. He's still romanticizing it. He still thinks he can win you over without brute force.
You're laid down, tucked in, maybe even kissed on the forehead while unconscious. The door is locked. He sits nearby… just watching and waiting for you to wake up and finally see. This moment is huge for him since it's the unveiling of the world he built for you.
The start of your new life so everything he does is carefully calculated to feel gentle, intimate, and deliberately non-threatening even though it's deeply threatening.
☆He likely has precautions hidden ex: locked door, sedation, or tools nearby but doesn't want you to see him as dangerous—not right away.
☆He's been there for hours maybe all night. He didn't sleep because wanted to be the first thing you see when you wake up.
You're disoriented. Groggy. Your limbs feel heavy. The sheets smell too clean.
“There you are. I thought today might be the day.”
☆He acts like he saved you, not abducted you. “You're just in shock. That's all. You'll understand soon.” He lets you notice the lock on the door on your own watching your reaction with clinical fascination.
☆He would offer something simple like tea or water. It's all part of his plan appear gentle, appear patient. He treats your fear like it's temporary like a fever you'll sweat out. If you throw it or reject it, he still keeps the tone sweet. But his eyes narrow just slightly.
“You are home... this is yours, I made it for you.”
☆In his head, he's your partner. Your husband. The only one who truly understands you so everything he says feels rehearsed, practiced.
☆If you fight back during or shortly after waking up. Kicking, biting and screaming. Daniel doesn't explode immediately. He doesn't yell or beat you senseless.
No, he unravels quietly. You punch, shove, scream and he take it. He doesn't hit you back. In his head, this isn't defiance. A natural stage of adjusting like a wild animal lashing out before learning to be tame.
☆If you failed to escape that's when the control tightens. He's eerily clinical as he binds your wrists or straps you to the bed. “You don't mean those words. I know that. You're just panicking.” He says this while wiping your tears off your face.
☆Your mornings are quiet.
“Good morning, sweetheart. I let you sleep. You looked peaceful.” You're never allowed to cook or touch sharp tools, but he makes your meals and tries to remember your preferences.
☆Breakfast, sitting on the porch together, chores? he does them all, midday nap he encourages it, dinner, reading. You can walk through certain rooms. Sometimes the doors open sometimes he forgets to lock it but he's always close by.
You've been here long enough to know that testing him means punishment not necessarily pain, but loss of comfort. A cold room, no dinner, no eye contact for a week.
☆He would give you gifts. A comb or new sweater even if you barely react, he sees your silence as softness. “You don't have to say anything. I know you love it.”
☆He hold your hand, hug you, kiss your forehead. He believes he's earned it by now. If you don't pull away, he takes it as consent. If you flinch, he quietly withdraws but keeps bringing it up and if you do try to express boundaries, he'll say you're overwhelmed again “It's alright, I'll wait. I always wait for you...”
You forget what day it is every day is the same.
You don't fight, but you're not living either.
You've stopped speaking because anything you say gets twisted into love.
cnc for my enrichment just because i want to prove how strong i am. i know you know im strong but i want to make you try to fight me off so i can see the moment you realize just what a brick wall i can be when i want to be. i want to see the moment you realize just how gentle i really am most of the time when it would be so easy not to be. cnc for your enrichment when you realize you really can let loose and fight me as hard as you want because im not fucking going anywhere until you settle down and take what im giving you.