#oops oops oops

kneeling over the pool of blood on the ground- you feel your mouth, wet and warm-drooling globs of congealed blood on the floor. lynz stand over your body- fist curled and reared back- ready to give you a final blow to the side of the cheek

you've started a routine. not really. more of a signal. when you need something like this, as severe as what you and lynz and gee do, you go to the basement and wait. sit on the cool tile, near the washing machine. sometimes you do the laundry and just. stay down here. the first time you were in this room-in this context, you were chained to the fucking radiator. now you just, leave the door ajar and wait.

gerard comes in after that final blow- when your head hits the tile and your eyes are drowsy and shot-nose filled with blood and snot. you hear him breathe deep. looking over Lynz's adrenaline filled frame. she hushes over something about you being insubordinate as if you could even comprehend what that word means right now. you feel a gentle cool palm stroke over to knobs of your spine.

lynz walks away. she goes to wash her hand in the sink at the side of the room and lets gerard lift you out of the puddle of red that coats your arms. you feel fucking worn out, strange. perfect. its the most reassuring thing to be broken then put back together.

you get, far more than others- why gerard and lynz work together. they move in a similar way- sure when they started dating they looked like fucking siblings. but they are like the different sides of the same coin. lynz is so much rougher, ruder, but her core is so sweet it could make you sick at the smell of it. gerard is so wonderful outwardly, so frightfully positive at all hours of the day- the centre of him being cruel, pessimistic and sadistic is an easy guess, but one that feels incredibly satisfying.

you would guess the scene is over, would guess you guys are all done as gerard places you on the toilet seat. he bends down and begins dressing over the incision on your lip, dragging anti-sceptic over the slit. it stings to high hell. you hiss as he hushes over "don't be a baby honey-dad's got you, you're just-just fine-"

but he thumbs through the wound, pushing into a bruise on your chin with his fingertip. da-dad it hurts-stop-stop.

he moves before you have a chance to notice, un-zips his trousers and lets his cock hit the side of your cheek with a thud. he forces his finger into your bottom row of teeth and pulls your jaw so far down he nearly brings your head down with the force of it.

"shut-shut up kid-"

he forces his cock down to the back of your throat- groaning with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure as he watches the blood from your nose pool at the base of his dick.

"fuck-i-ishould let mom beat you-beat you more fucking often- you feel so fucking wet-wet in here-fuck-let,l-let daddy use you-your mouth kiddo-fuckfuckufkc-ohdont- don't cry honey you're just-just fine, ill-i'll give you some-some ice-ice cream later for your-throat-t-throat- lookfuckkkk look shishshitshitshit, if you- don't-dont tell mom, keep-keep this between you and-and me-i won't-i won't pull-pull that broken tooth out later- be good-be good for da-daddy honey, cm'monnn"

you feel like throwing up. you know gerard would be into it if you did. it makes you feel awful-small. humiliated. he kicks a leg between you thighs and tries to stimulate your cunt but it just feels swollen and sore- like you could piss yourself or some idiotic shit.

but you know they would look after you afterward. you can hear lynz cooking in the kitchen already-you can feel yourself giving in to the worse things. the impulses that could relieve gerard of those impulsive thoughts that that tell him he is too sick, too strange. you can feel yourself wanting to give him that permission.

@smokin-salmon

outtakes baby ~