undesiredwayzz

── .✦ Scenario ✦. ──

“My child,” his voice reverberates throughout the empty alter. His steps are slow and calculated as he approaches your form. Your body is frozen as your eyes watch the man get closer. Soon, his hand is gently placed onto your shoulder, softly massaging the muscle underneath. “What are you doing here? All alone, by yourself. What brings you early to the church today?”

You swallow a thick drop of saliva, your throat bopping as you look back up to the windows. Each carefully crafted, colored piece that shaped the lord above. Its abstract intricacy formed him. He was watching his followers from bellow.

The priest seemed to take notice of where you were looking. He shifts behind you, pressing his body against yours. “Ah, you wished to visit him?” A smile was very present in Strade’s voice. “You have been very diligent in arriving on time. Well, even earlier than that.”

His other hand grasps onto your other shoulder, keeping you in place. Your body was glued to the carpet beneath your feet as you were now forced to look at *him*. “Yes, Father Strade. I’ve been very.. um..”

“Speak, my child. For it’s only me that’s here.”

“..Conflicted. About.. my heart.”

“Your heart,” he questioned with a level of intrigue. He briefly paused in his massaging of your shoulders. “Tell me about your heart, (First Name). What are you feeling?” Strade inquired. However, his tone was anything but asking.

You paused, looking away from the lord. Feeling your hands grip on your sleeves, you tried to ease yourself. “Do not turn away from him. If this is a heavy burden, he will hear you out. He is here to forgive humanity’s sins.”

“As a speaker for him,” he whispers lowly into your ear, “I will forgive your sins.”

“Father, I.. fear that I am having.. strong feelings.. for a man.” Silence fills the void between you two for more than a few seconds. His body is further pressing against you. “Oh? What are these “strong feelings?”

His hands progressively slide down your shoulders, traveling to your biceps.

“I.. I wish to be in a relationship with a man, Father Strade. I-I know it’s wrong.. it’s—“

“Mmmm.. do not fret, my child.” His hands slither down to gently squeeze your hips. His nails digging into your robe’s fabric. You feel something growing somewhat firm against your backside. “You want to be forgiven, yes? Then I will do my duties as his speaker and cleanse you.”

Just as you tried to look over at him, one of his hands snap to grab you roughly by the head. His tone threatened to reveal something nasty underneath. “Do not look away, (First Name),” Strade hissed. “Keep your eyes ahead of you. He cannot hear you if you are not speaking directly to him. Do you understand?”

His glass eyes were boring into your skull. You could feel your breathing become shaky. You couldn’t muster a voice as Strade started to slowly rub himself against you. “Y-Yes,” you weakly spoke.

“Repeat the prayer.”

Taking in a shaky breath, you struggled to keep looking into the lord’s eyes as his hands explored your body. You confessed your “sins” to the best of your ability.

Strade didn’t dare correct you on feeling sinful. No, not when you were so vulnerable. So quick to allow him to rub his freed cock between your thighs. He slid in and out of the gap, reveling in your soft thighs pressed against him.

The Lord saw all, and he will see how much Strade is keeping you on the path of righteousness. Strade will make sure that his teachings will keep you from straying away.

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— Similar to Strade, Jak also has a high tolerance to alcohol. But, depending on the type of liquor given to him, he’ll be very tipsy and out of it. Though, that type of brewing may be hard to come by. Perhaps you may be the one to introduce him to the hard hitters of the Wild West.

⋆.˚ ★— Jak is brutally himself when heavily intoxicated. By brutally, he will showcase violence and physical strength if things aren’t going his way. You don’t want to have sex with him while he’s drunk and you’re sober? He’ll force you into submission before having his way with you.

⋆.˚ ★— He may not recall everything, but he’ll sure remember exactly how you feel when you come back to him. Or, when he feels like having you beneath him again.

── .✦ Scenario ✦. ──

You had way too much. More than you had ever drank in your life. Your vision was completely unclear, not helped by the way you struggled to sit up straight. But, fret not, for Jak was just as hammered as you were. Though, he seemed to be more levelheaded than you could ever be. You were able to conjure a vague thought of whether or not you were going to remember this night.

In a blink of an eye, Jak takes you out of the bar via wrapping your arm over his shoulder. You let out a low moan when his large hand cops a feel of your ass. He lets out a low chuckle and mutters something incoherent in your ear.

You both arrived at his camp, stumbling over one another along the way. All the while Jak is eagerly fondling parts of you. He isn’t able to hold back any longer when you arrive.

As your body slammed to the grass beneath you, his hands work on getting your outfit undone. You feel his lips plant fleeting kisses along your neck and collarbone. “Gonna,” he lets out a small groan, “fill you up.. all nice n’ warm.” His voice was agonizingly smooth despite the minor wobbling caused by the booze.

“Get ‘em off me,” you replied while barely feeling like your body was cooperating with you. The hangover was going to be painful, but you didn’t care about the aftermath. Right now, you were about to have some fun with a nearly seven foot tall man.

Finally, your lips met with his and you swore your body melted into his touch. Closing your eyes, you allowed pleasure to take over. But, it seemed this wasn’t the position he wanted you both in. Reluctantly pulling away, he roughly flips you onto your stomach. Both of you two’s clothes were flippantly tossed aside.

Jak’s body nearly slams on top of you, but you had just enough strength to not crumble. He tries to dig his feet into the soil to get the proper position. But, it seemed his upper body was just going to be resting on your back.

His hands were firmly squeezing handfuls of your bare ass cheeks, spreading them apart. The tip of his cock was rubbing in between your crack, until he felt your asshole pucker when he touched it. Grinning like the smug bastard he is, he whispers in your ear. “Mmm.. Ya kept it clean for me..”

Suddenly, the burning sensation became very evident when he started to push inside you. You almost wanted to bury your face for the whorish sound that came out of your mouth. God, he was too fucking thick for his own good.

At least the cheap liquor made it easy to stomach the pain. The cowboy didn’t waste another second of moving in and out of you roughly. Fortunately for him, it was just about to be the time the pain became pleasure. Jak continuously let out groans as you were practically being used as a toy.

His rhythm was not perfect by a long stretch. Compared to the agonizingly rough thrusts and slow build up to each one, it was like being split open. The night was spent with a very drunk yet passionate “activity” that kept you both up.

When morning arrived, you found yourself underneath a very small tent with a large sweaty man snuggled against you. His snoring had caused you to stir awake in the first place. The splitting headache caused you to bury your face into his hairy chest.

You had a bright idea as to what happened. However, you could use more of a rest right now. So, you decide to try and nod back off and let future you figure what to do later.

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— Strade transitioned in his early twenties. The effects of T has left him having a very enlarged clit. At most, six centimeters. Similar to his cisgender counterpart, he has a hairy bush. He kept his nipples (due to simply making enough money to do so).

⋆.˚ ★— Stimulation to the swollen bud makes him weak. But, penetration is as equally as arousing for him. His fingers are thick enough for him to be satisfied without something. But, sometimes he just needs a nice and even thicker toy to get that sweet spot.

⋆.˚ ★— Loves having his thighs clench around your head when you’re sucking him off. He wants you buried in there, taking care of his wants. You’d be suffocated by his natural scents mixed with the stench of cologne.

⋆.˚ ★— Finds that attention to his chest scars to be weirdly attractive. He loves your tongue to be dragging across them. As if you are admiring them.

── .✦ Scenario ✦. ──

“There you go.~” Strade’s baritone voice beckoned you to abide by his commands. The blade of his sturdy knife delicately grazed your shoulder. Its sharpened edge sliced a long cut open, blood beading from the wound. You hissed as the steel made contact with your flesh. He let out a breathy moan when your voice hummed against him.

His thick hairy legs were wrapped around your upper body, pushing you to be buried against his folds. Your nose was deep inside his bush while your tongue softly lapped against the firm bud. At least he was in a comfortable position on the couch. His ass was cushioned beneath while you were forced to suck him off.

“Mmmm.. you’re so slow,” he groaned in amusement. “I’ll make sure you’re better at this.” Another cut was painted on your skin. You winced before convincing yourself to start licking his t-dick slightly faster. The tip of your tongue constantly flicked against him, causing Strade to tilt his head back and let out a small sigh.

Suddenly, his eyes went wide at the new sensation. No, you were doing a certain motion with your tongue. Your lips were gently wrapped around his clit and began to suck. He immediately bucked his hips at your “teasing”. “Ah!” He involuntarily gasped when your sucking grew more intense. You were more than pleasuring him.

Strade knew you were going to enjoy this. He just had to give you a little push and you would get it. Playing hard to get, you were.

Seemingly on accident, he swiftly slashes another part of your shoulder when pulling the knife away “Oops!” A low chuckle leaves his lips. “It’s only a minor cut.. keep going!” Grabbing a handful of your hair, he smashes your face into his folds. “If you don’t.. haa.. I’ll cut you open! right here..!”

Judging by your new adjustments, he was ecstatic by how he threw his head back and moaned loudly. You were lapping up his swollen bud more than ever, drenching it in your saliva. It gave a small twitch between your lips. His panting grew heavier, audible, something that would’ve been music to your ears.

Strade further tightened his hold on you, grinding your face against him. Soon enough, he let out a cry. Squeezing your head with his thighs, he began to coat your face with his juices. Your chin was dripping with his fluids, trailing down your neck.

Finally, you were able to somewhat breathe after he seemed to finally ease. Slowly, you pulled away with a wet pop of the skin to skin contact gone. A small strand of his juices was briefly attached to your chin before snapping off.

Just after you were starting to pull away, something sharp plunged inside your shoulder. The deep cut caused you to rip away and wail in pain. The overwhelming shock and adrenaline that came from his knife being inside you was too much to bear.

An agonizingly long laugh was emitted from him, rumbling deep inside his chest. “Gahaha! Oh no!” His smile was maddeningly infuriating. “..I got too excited.~” A light chuckle soon followed before fully acknowledging your panicked state. Blood was threatening to gush out of the wound if he tried pulling out the knife now.

You still had another day to impress him. You couldn’t die now, can you?

“Don’t cry now. You’ll make me worked up all over again..! Or is that what you want? Are you hungry again, Mein Liebling?”

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— The type of scenarios or situations that can be stirred up with holding Strade captive depends on you. What your personality is like, if Strade is still a sadistic pervert, etc.

⋆.˚ ★— Personally, the idea of knowing Strade’s actions and inflicting the same torture is preferred. Two equally terrible characters constantly fighting for control. This would really bring into question how much you could wear Strade down. If at all.

⋆.˚ ★— Being given the power to do whatever you want towards a character like Strade is very appealing. He goes through stages, similar to grief, of how he handles being restrained. Strade will very much kill you, if given the opportunity. Similar to his “no tolerance” approach when he lights you on fire in one ending.

⋆.˚ ★— This type of prompt can give multiple options. However, Strade comes off as the one to always put up a fight. Until he is dominated or “disciplined”, you might as well be fighting a bull. He despises the thought of facing consequences after all this time.

⋆.˚ ★— The most opportune time to peg him would be when he’s restrained/unable to stop you. You would be able to make him your “puppy” when you’ve torn down his resistance. Above all else, you would mold him into whatever you want through some work.

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— Will is very much a person that offers solutions than comfort. He is uncertain of how to respond due to simply not experiencing comfort himself. But, for you, he’ll make it work. In his own way, of course.

⋆.˚ ★— If you are having a problem with someone, he may not hesitate to kill them. You may attempt to reason with him. But, it may just be delaying the inevitable (or having the rare case of letting them live). Depending on how they’ve treated you, they’ll either die swiftly or brutally slow.

⋆.˚ ★— He tries to follow what makes you feel comforted the most. Though, apart from acts of service and gift giving, he tries to show physical affection. Will’s fingers interlocked with yours and holds your hand after giving it a small squeeze. He’s never been good with words. But, you can read the emotion in his eyes that he means his gesture.

⋆.˚ ★— The man in clown makeup would immediately take you to his skeletal “friends”. They are his support group, just like how they will be for you. Their presence means a lot to him.

⋆.˚ ★— Surprisingly good at making tea. He often tries to compare you to Magnolia or how his parents comforted him before. He prefers unsweet tea himself, but he’ll make whatever is available for you. Just note that it’s probably a very basic brand since he can’t go to the store clerk.

⋆.˚ ★— Quite reluctant about letting you go, once you feel comforted afterwards. He wants you to stay with him. Will you stay with him? Just a little longer? He’s not one to vocalize his feelings, but sometimes it feels very good to be with you. It makes his heart skip a beat.

── .✦ Scenario ✦. ──

Sounds of keys clicking filled the void that was “The Black Room”. Robbed of any natural light by the darkness enveloping every inch of space within. The monitors’ blaring white glow was the only source of lighting that seemed to paint across its’ owner’s cold expression. Calculating, his eyes narrowed on some particularly on some anonymous comments on his current stream. He tsk’ed at the “critique” of the previous victim’s attire.

Presentation was crucial for any sort of published media. The victim’s dress was tacky, that he will admit. He couldn’t help but be.. peeved that their attention was centered on insignificant details. At least, compared to the main show. Grimacing hard at the “constructive criticism” of the next comment, Fox felt an itch in his clawed hand grasping the mouse.

Scoffing internally, he closes the tab before returning his attention towards you. He took a deep breath. Fox closes his eyes before his thoughts began to flood his consciousness. The “people” were going to use their free speech to spew whatever that conjured inside their brain in text form. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel bothered.

He couldn’t stand any relinquishing of his power to others. His younger years had been wasted through such. At least one of them was still alive and kicking.

The fox swallowed when he felt heat pooling in his stomach. The lingering state of his "heat" were heavily pushed back by his suppressants. 'It's only one show,' he thinks to himself. 'You can handle one.'

After opening his eyes, he felt a resurgence of newfound.. desires to torture you. Fox had the perfect idea as to how to hurt you in the most sickeningly delicious way for his viewers. Yet, visibly, he was unable to stand still for a long periods of time.

Smiling underneath his mask, he would begin to speak.

"Welcome!" His voice returned to his "showman" tone. "I have to say, it has been some time since I've had a personal show of my own." Putting his hands behind his back, he carefully inspects your physical state. He continued to dig his claws into his palms.

Untouched. In its most purist state before he can get his hands on you.

"Chat will be deciding your fate, dear one. My audience hungers for a revolving change in genres, tags, anything that'll get them off!" Fox had let out a rather unnatural laugh. One that was noticeably strained.

"Let's see what they've decided as a collective," Fox turns to look back at one of the monitors. When his eyes fell onto a particular trend of requests, he had to pause.

"Bottom rn lol."

"i wanna see u gettin fucked ngl."

"Gay boy better strip for us."

Other comments soon carried the same sentiment. Soon, it overwhelmed his natural instincts. His body tried to betray him. Dammit, these suppressants weren't working. He could feel his body growing warmer at-

Clearing his throat, he slowly turns to you. This time, an intense glare pierced through yours. His audience were the reason he wielded all this power. It.. would be a crime to deny what they want, right? Fox couldn't dare imagine himself being weak. Returning to a state of vulnerability that had been taken advantage of over and over again.

The audience craved for him to be in that position again.

..

Unshackled, you were. Your restraints were taken off, but not before Fox had adjusted the camera's angles. He slams you against the ground without hesitation. You attempt to immediately struggle out of his hold. You felt like you had the chance to escape! Until, you felt something cold and hard pressed against your back.

"Don't move a single inch. I am the one who decides what you'll do," he snarled. It seemed he was speaking more to himself rather than you. While he was straddling you, he was firmly rubbing his half-hard bulge against your lower back. He had to stifle a groan, his heat intensifying the sensations.

He soon leaned into your ear, causing you to think he might try to talk to you away from the cameras.

"Okay! Okay! Just.. please.. I don't want to die-" "Shut. Up." Fox dug his pistol further into your back. "You will ride me. Make your little noises for my viewers. If you do so much as look at me in the eye, I'll put more than one bullet inside you."

Swallowing, your silence seems to be enough of an answer for your compliance.

..

You were both unclothed, that much you can make out. Wanting to stay alive, you did your absolute best to avoid making eye contact. You rode his cock, feeling his tip kiss your sensitive spot repeatedly. The reluctant pressure caused your body to tense up. Fox was letting out low grunts. For a moment, you could barely make out what the rapid firing of the comments were saying.

Looking down, Fox wasn't paying attention to you. His eyes were in a daze, glued to watching the ceiling than what you were doing. Yet, his iron grip held onto the pistol as if letting go meant death.

One word from a comment seemed to linger before disappearing into the rest of the chatroom: "ruin".

You had to take the chance to escape. He seemed.. distracted. Enough for you to do something that would make him return his attention to you.

You immediately went to scratch his face, aiming for his eyes. The sudden sensation made him audibly choke. The shock of what came out of his throat gave you the opportunity to act. You felt his cock slip from your entrance before you immediately fought for control.

For control.

Fox was taken aback, yet swiftly moved to take a shot at you- only for your hands to retaliate by stopping him. You both struggled, causing the chat to explode. Finally, the gun was no where for his hands to grab. Now, the positions were reversed. The roles were reversed.

His eyes widened, a silent gasp leaving his lips when he felt an intrusion between his cheeks. His hands form into tight fists as your two fingers were stretching him open. Thankfully, the mask he wore was hiding the amount of saliva dripping from his mouth.

His back arched when the tip of your fingers brushed against his prostate. Your fingers began to curl and repeatedly rub against that spot. That damned spot.

When you pulled away, he let out a small whimper before something metallic began to press against his asshole. No, you wouldn't.

You were starting to push some of the barrel inside of him, fucking him with his own gun. Humiliation and shame burned his cheeks as he couldn't stifle his noises any longer. The heat was overwhelming. It wanted to be let out.

Fox was now audibly moaning out in pain and pleasure. You were taking full advantage of the situation. His audience seemed to crave more, until the comments were no longer visible to read from how fast they were moving.

But, you didn't hear the sudden door behind opening up wide. Light beaming onto you and Fox's body. Your head tries to snap towards whoever was there.

You weren't able to hear the gunshot as everything turned dark.

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— Jak's cock is very girthy, uncircumcised, and curves downward. His happy trail is thick, and often drenched in sweat due to the heat of the outside world. His large hands easily cover a generous amount of your hips whenever he pulls you in for a kiss. The drunk man is constantly on the lookout for "the next one".

⋆.˚ ★— Loves, loves, loves when you try to take every inch of him inside your mouth. He'll let out a shaky laugh as its head is brushing against your throat. Be warned that once you try and "impress him", Jak will only crave more of it. Give him an inch, and he'll take it further.

⋆.˚ ★— Early in the saloon's opening hours, he sneaks you underneath the table he uses to play cards with the other budding patrons. Due to his high libido, he's constantly finding ways to pleasure himself with you in mind. You're constantly in his thoughts. The moment you indulge in getting him a shot of his favorite liquor, you already belonged to him.

⋆.˚ ★— If you are questioning why the bartender hasn't done anything to stop you two from "fooling around", she's doesn't dare try to get in Jak's way. There's something about the drunk man that seems off. A bad kind of energy, and she doesn't want to find out his bad side. Adding on, getting entangled with him means you're his "wrangler". Even then, she's become wary of you as well.

── .✦ Scenario ✦. ──

Stakes were high, even for a game taking place in the local saloon. While Jak kept his shit-eating grin high and mighty for his peers, you were busy having a mouthful. With his belt discreetly unbuckled, and pants pulled down ever so slightly, you were being a "sweet pea" by blowing him for each game he's won. You were his little good luck charm.

You struggled to fit him completely inside your mouth. Your lips did their best to cover your teeth and wrap around his unwashed shaft. His natural scent and sweat forced you to briefly swallow as small as possible. Three Card-Monte was easy to manipulate into his favor. Fortunately, no one dared to call bluffs. Despite the other men being hairy, smelly, beer-bellied roughhouse-ers, who was going to question the seven foot tall man?

'Must be newcomers to this town,' he thinks to himself. It only made his grin grow wider across his face as he took advantage of these sorry suckers. As he won the next game of chance, he threw his head back to laugh as the other men spewed nonsense slang at him. You didn't bother questioning what was being yelled at Jak.

No, you felt like being a "naughty little thing".

Finally, taking in a deep breath through your nose, you did your best to hollow your cheeks before shoving your face against him. Until your nose was buried in his thick bush. Jak's breath hitches once he felt your pretty lips wrapped fully around the base. Your tongue ruthlessly rubbing against his cock. He throbbed inside your mouth.

God, he wanted to cum right then and there to feel your hungry mouth swallow each drop.

"What's gotten ya silent? Realized yer "tricks" are nothin' but bullshit?" One of the cowboys snickered at his frozen state. But, Jak composed himself before slightly jerking his hips against you. "..As if. I ain't been bullshitting since we've started this game."

"Uh-huh. Just put the damn cards down. We ain't finished until you hand over our gold back."

Jak scoffed, almost daring to further piss this bastard off. "Quit your complainin'. I'll start again. Only thing y'all are gonna have left is your briefs."

Oh, you were playing dirty yourself. All he could think was how clever it was. But, to make him slip up like that in front of these suckers was too risky.

He was going to put you in your place once they were gone and no one else was looking in his direction.

── .✦ Headcanons ✦. ──

⋆.˚ ★— The Bastard wielded a civilized life. Long before you had come to town. His name bestowed upon him by his mother. However, what The Beast was referred to before has either been kept secret or was lost to time. People involved in the events of his origins had vanished from the face of the earth.

⋆.˚ ★— He was like you, until the exposure to the entity from the deepest pits of the underworld corrupted him. Pure shock and turmoil that he experienced from the sight of it made him go mad. At least, that's what you've heard from the whispers from beyond. There is no set story that serves as an explanation to what happened. The most that can be done is working with the supernatural aspects of him.

⋆.˚ ★— Blackened blood screams impurity, says the witch you've traveled to. Taking information from supposed "insane ones" infects your credibility with most common folk. However, none of them carry your immense courage to figure out The Beast's background. But, she warns you of straying too far from the path of normalcy. Her people have been persecuted due to mass paranoia. Trying to understand The Bastard may get you killed.

⋆.˚ ★— His mental state is an enigma. Whatever occurred during his meeting with the entity below has made him unable to speak incoherently. To silence him from speaking of its existence. Yet, your memories of it are always wiped away. So, why was he punished for being given knowledge?

⋆.˚ ★— What the entity did not alter was The Beast's hunger for flesh. For he had already lived a life of sin. Whether or not he had cannibalized others for the sake of survival or purely due to "differences in appetite" is up to speculation.

⋆.˚ ★— You and The Beast are two sides of the same coin. Or perhaps you are in the process of being corrupted like him. The entity has been a judge of many people that have come before you. How many have returned to the living world after they've died?

⋆.˚ ★— You and The Beast are two sides of the same coin. Or perhaps you are in the process of being corrupted like him. The entity has been a judge of many people that have come before you. How many have returned to the living world after they've died?

⋆.˚ ★— Reacts violently to the possibility of having to be sent to The Entity again. Something within his brain snaps into his survival instincts. He will tear you from limb to limb, as if trying to prevent it from ever putting you back together.

⋆.˚ ★— Animals within the woods stay clear of The Bastard. He reeks of death and utter gore that drench his body. He slaughters whoever dares to "trespass his home" during the dark. Many hunters have found gutted deer laying on the now bloodied grass.

⋆.˚ ★— Fear becomes rage, and rage becomes violence. The Bastard will stop at nothing until something can kill him. However, no one seems to have been able to live to tell the tale for now.