dragongirlteeth:

Hrt should give me sharper teeth

twinko:

Nice fangs bro do you wana make out I mean make out I mean make out i mean make out sorry i mean make out i mean ma

kirkadventurous:

Bite Me

You grin, holding me down on the bed under you. I’m already whining and needy, and all you’ve done is grind on my ass a bit. You hum, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck.

“Bite me,” I gasp.

“Hmm?” You whisper, breath in my ear, “what was that, sweetheart?”

I whine, pushing my ass back into your hips as they grind down, feeling your tongue against my ear, and barely manage to keep my speech coherent. “Please! Please bite me! Please claim me, mark me so that everyone can see that I’m yours!”

You hum again, pleased. “Well, since you ask so nicely….” Pulling my shirt to the side, you lean down and gently taste my skin, right where my shoulder and neck meet. I whimper with need as I both hear and feel your hungry purr.

And you clamp down.

My mouth opens in a noiseless shout as your teeth dig in to my skin, arching my back from the intensity. You’re grinding harder now, thrusting me down into the sheets as if you were taking me raw from behind. I moan, and whine, but you don’t let go. Your teeth only dig in harder, my hands pinned by my sides as the nearly unbearable pain morphs into pleasure.

I feel helpless, I feel owned, I feel claimed. And you keep on taking what’s yours.

imagine your FC hugging you from behind, arms wrapped tightly around you, and starts kissing your neck. Soon it goes from soft kissing to hard, bruising biting in a matter of minutes.

(Achievement Hunter / GTA:V)

Summary: Sage can’t get off unless they have a little bit of pain with their pleasure.  Unfortunately, Trevor knows this.  Fortunately, HQ is full of Fakes who don’t care about Trevor’s rules.

A kept!Sage fic.  The kept verse involves bad horrible Fakes who do bad horrible things.  Cast includes Trevor, Michael, Matt, Jeremy, Geoff, Jack, Gavin, and Alfredo.

Warnings: In this verse, Sage is being held against their will for a long period of time. This captivity involves emotional, physical, and sexual abuse.  All three make an appearance in this fic, but the focus is on controlling behavior.  Additional warnings include: orgasm denial, brief daddy kink, gun play, biting, collar play, bondage, spanking, references to violent murder (does not happen onscreen), somnophilia, degrading language, various pet names used by an abuser, references to strangulation (very mild choking happens onscreen), sexual masochism (inflicted by others and the self), and manipulation (both by abusers to further their abuse and by a victim to mitigate their own abuse).

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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The grandfather clock in the Fake’s foyer counted the seconds dutifully. Sage sat on an expensive couch, stiff as a board, and watched the pendulum swing back and forth. Geoff had stolen that clock on a whim months ago. He kept it in pristine condition, always polishing and tinkering to keep the machinery singing. Sage had been stolen a lot longer ago. They counted the seconds dutifully, trying not to squirm.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Unlike the clock, Sage had the ability to misbehave.

As soon as the front door creaked, Sage sprang off the couch.

The stench of violence followed Michael like smoke. He smelled like lighter fluid and human meat. Sweat and smoke clung to his face and neck, along with a telltale red splatter. His breath was heavy and there was still a gun in his sweaty fist, as though he’d used it just moments ago.

Sage didn’t know what he’d been up to or who he’d been killing, and they didn’t want to know.

“Michael—” They rushed up to him before he was even through the door. “I-I need you to—”

The barrel of the gun cut off their words.

Sage staggered back, quivering, as Michael used the gun like it was just an extension of his hand, shoving them roughly back.

“Don’t get in my goddamn way,” Michael grunted. He kept the gun pointed at them. “I’m trying to take my boots off. Christ.”

Sage’s gaze jumped between the gun and Michael’s face. The harsh pressure of the barrel  was making their heart pound. Despite the danger, they couldn’t make themself back off. “I-I— I need—”

“You need a bullet? I’ve got plenty left.”

“I need a favor!” Sage confessed in a rush.

Michael’s eyebrows rose. With a scoff, he lowered his gun. “Fuck, you’re a mess.” The observation was the first thing to bring humor to his voice. “You look like you fucked a steamroller. Rough morning?”

Sage knew what he meant, but roughness was the entire problem. If their morning had been rougher, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

Lips had been the first sensation Sage felt as they awoke, before light touched their eyes, before sleep had really lifted. They had felt soft lips moving over their own, muffling their sleeping breath. And…

A second pair of lips, and a tongue, between their pliant legs, tasting them in their sleep. Sage awoke already moaning.

“G-Gavin…”

“G’morning, love,” Gavin cooed. He cupped Sage’s face, trapping it close to his own. “Just relax and let Jack work her magic.”

Jack’s tongue coaxed weak noises out of Sage, but Gavin’s tongue stifled every one.

“M-morning was fine,” Sage said stiffly.

It had been soft and sweet, even when Jack and Gavin took turns sinking inside Sage. Too soft. One rough yank on Sage’s hair would have been enough, one moment of pain to spice up the pleasure, but Gavin and Jack never obliged.  Sage couldn’t finish without that extra little push.

“Congratulations on your great morning,” Michael drawled. “Can I fucking help you with something?”

Sage had tried to be subtle, slipping a hand over their own skin, searching for the perfect moment to scratch. If Jack and Gavin wouldn’t supply the pain they needed, they could do it themself. One sweet, biting press of nails into skin, that was all they needed…

Fingers closed over their wrist before they could scratch, though. Gavin lifted their hand to his lips, giving it a kiss, smirking fit to burst. He’d known.

Sage squirmed, their eyes glued to the carpet. They cleared their throat and said in a shaky half-whisper, “W-would you… fuck me?”

Michael blinked. “’Scuse me?”

It didn’t feel like it should have been possible, but Sage’s blush deepened. “Um… I-I really need to come, and—”

Michael snorted. He shoved past them, tossing his gun carelessly on the coffee table. “So? Go beg Trevor to throw you a bone.”

Trevor. Sage had gone to him first, of course they did. Trevor was always so willing to indulge them.  Sage had crawled into his bed, needy, pleading, offering whatever he wanted. Maybe that had been their mistake. They gave him a taste of something and he took a liking to it.

“You’re so cute like this,” he breathed, hand in Sage’s hair.

Soft, too soft. No matter how Sage whined, no matter how they lavished his balls or swallowed his cock, he never pulled. Just stroked.

It was no accident. Trevor had learned all of Sage’s buttons long ago.

“I just want to keep you like this all day.” He pushed, still so gentle, until Sage’s nose was pressed against his body. “You can be a good little pet for me, right? I’ll give you such a nice reward if you make it until tonight…”

“I already went to Trevor,” Sage said, truthfully. Then they lied. “He’s not as good as you.”

That got Michael’s attention. For the first time, he was neither scowling nor smirking.

“Come back to my room tonight.” Trevor made a promise as he latched a new dog tag to Sage’s collar. “I’ll spoil you all night if you’re good.”

Sage fidgeted with their collar, casually tucking the tag under the leather. No need to let Michael see the instructions that Trevor had left there for the rest of the crew, the embossed words “Don’t Let Me Come.”

“You could have asked anyone,” Michael pressed. The look in his eyes was intense.

“I-I’ve… I’ve already asked the rest of the crew.” Sage bit their lip, and swallowed a little moan. “They, um… they didn’t help.”

Sage didn’t dare disobey Trevor’s orders themself, though they easily could have finished on their own. But if another Fake did it… Trevor’s anger was so easy to redirect.

“What’s wrong, little bookworm?” Geoff patted his knee. “Come here and tell Daddy all about it.”

Michael laughed, shrugging out of his blood-stained jacket. “None of them would fuck you? Color me surprised.”

Before Sage could even begin to climb in Geoff’s lap, his clever fingers caught their collar, rubbing the edges of the brand-new tag. “Mmm, what’s this?“

Sage’s face flushed hot. “Th-that's—”

“A little bonding exercise between our favorite strangler and his pet? How cute.”

Sage’s voice was miserable. “No, they… they still…” They squirmed under Michael’s gaze, the admission squeaky with embarrassment. “They fucked me.”

Geoff was the only one who could truly disobey Trevor without consequence. He could have taken care of things. He…

He traced a finger in an agonizingly slow circle around Sage’s aching clit, making them clench around his cock. There was only one proper way to sit in Daddy’s lap. Sage told him every detail of the morning between whimpers.

“It’s so sweet to see you and Trev playing together,” Geoff purred. He never let go of the dog tag as Sage rode him. “I’ll make sure I play by his rules.”

Michael’s breath caught. “All of them fucked you?”

“All of them.”

Well…

When Geoff hadn’t helped, Sage had turned to the next most likely Fake to ignore Trevor’s rules.

Sage’s breath caught as soon as the question left their lips. Matt glanced up from the book he was reading. He didn’t move his head, so he ended up staring at Sage over the rim of his glasses. He held their gaze for several seconds, not saying a word, then went back to his book.

He slowly turned a page. Sage was getting lightheaded.

“No.”

"Jesus christ,” Michael breathed. “No wonder you look like you ran a marathon. You fuckin’ did, huh?”

Trevor’s sugary affection was flammable. More than one Fake had been sent to the respawn room for putting their hands on his pet. But he had a blind spot.

Sage found them in the armory: both of them. Alfredo was as striking as ever in his tight jeans, sitting on a desk like a chair, one long leg dangling off the edge. A menacing rifle was in his hands, deftly taken to pieces while Sage watched.

Trevor was in the room too, cleaning his own gun.

Michael unsuccessfully wiped at a smear of dried blood on his jaw. “So if you’ve already spread your legs for everyone else, what do you need me for?”

It was impossible not to be charmed by Alfredo, no matter what horrible act of violence he was committing at the time. That was what made him so dangerous. Trevor was no more immune to it than Sage was.

“Fredo?” Sage stole the pet name they’d heard Trevor use. “Can I…”

“The others just made it worse,” Sage insisted.

Alfredo’s gun was pressed against Sage’s forehead while his cunt was pressed against their tongue. Trevor whistled to himself, but never looked up from the gun he was cleaning.

Alfredo’s gun never pressed quite hard enough.

Impatience was creeping into Michael’s voice. “Made what worse?”

Sage was nearly whining. “None of them would let me…”

Sage had been hopeful when they went to Geoff, hopeful that he would use his authority to do whatever he wanted. Matt had never concerned himself with Trevor’s rules in the first place. And Alfredo… Trevor could never say no to him. Any of them could have relieved Sage’s plight.

Going to Jeremy, however, had been an act of desperation, and it was probably the worst thing Sage could have done.

“You need someone to hurt you?” Jeremy asked, confused.

Sage nodded miserably. Jeremy made a show of looking around, as if expecting to catch Trevor hiding around the nearest corner. Silently, they beckoned Sage to follow them.

Sage shouldn’t have followed.

Michael stepped closer. Sage’s heart pounded as he stared at them, demanding eye contact.

“So you’ve been edging all day?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it could have cut steel. “You’ve been fucked by the whole crew and haven’t gotten off once?”

The soft click of an unlatching buckle, the leather slide of a belt being removed from its pants, was enough to send Sage’s heart hammering against their chest.

“Bend over.” Jeremy’s voice was calm. “I can hurt you.”

Michael lifted his hand, gripped Sage’s chin. It was harsh, rude, the first non-gentle touch all day, and Sage’s knees turned to water.

“And now you’re crawling to me for the rough fuck you can’t get anywhere else. Is that it?”

“Y-y-yes!”

The anticipation of Jeremy’s belt was torturous. When Sage finally felt it, it was a feather-light caress, leather trailing lightly across the curve of their ass. Tickling, teasing.

“Ready?” Jeremy asked.

The belt lifted away. A quick whistle of velocity, a horrifying THUMP as the belt struck the mattress next to Sage, a startled jolt that ran through their whole body and brought them nothing. Sage nearly sobbed as the belt dragged lightly across their skin again.

Michael’s gaze drifted down. His hand slipped off Sage’s chin and grabbed their collar instead, slipping out the hidden dog tag before Sage could squeak. Exposing the words “Don’t Let Me Come.”

“Ah. I see what’s happening.”

Sage’s face was hot with need. “M-Michael, please—”

“Jeremy, please!”

As Jeremy wound the belt around Sage’s wrists, binding them behind their back, they leaned close to Sage’s ear and whispered.

“I told you I could hurt you.”

“So that’s why you haven’t taken care of this yourself.” Michael tugged on the collar, making Sage’s whole body wobble. “Trevor’s orders. You’re not gonna disobey Daddy.”

Sage writhed in the makeshift bondage as they felt Jeremy’s tongue where they’d been hoping to feel his belt. One firm hand on their back kept them pinned as Jeremy gave them the kind of kiss Jack had given them that morning.

It should have hurt at least a little when they squeezed their cock into Sage’s ass, inch by thick inch, but Jeremy had the patience of a saint when it came to torment. Tongue and fingers and lube soothed away every trace of discomfort. Even when Jeremy’s hips bumped against Sage’s un-spanked ass, all it did was make them drip.

Michael yanked on the collar, making Sage stumble. “You know what, though?” His fingers wound into their hair. A cold shiver of anticipation gripped Sage’s spine. “Trevor isn’t my Daddy.”

His hand tightened in a vicious fist, wrenching Sage’s head back. Hot sparks of pain danced down their back and exploded in their vision. Sage barely noticed it when Michael’s other hand pressed between their legs, groping roughly.

“He’s been saving you up for himself, huh? Like a sweet slice of cake. I always love stealing from him.”

Michael’s fist twisted in Sage’s hair, his fingers pressing against them through the thin fabric of their yoga pants. It wasn’t a lighthearted playing with Sage’s clit as much as it was Michael mashing a button with his thumb, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered more than the fact that someone was finally hurting them.

Their orgasm was half-drowned out by the blinding, deafening experience of seeing Heaven’s Gates and hearing the entire angel’s chorus. Sage was positive their legs had given out, but since Michael had a firm grip on their hair, they knew they weren’t going to fall.

“You’re fucking easy,” Michael taunted. Still gripping Sage by the hair, he hauled them towards the same table he’d tossed his gun onto. “Bend over.”

The command must have just been for show, because he shoved Sage face-down onto the table, almost pinning them against the gun. He grabbed the waistband of their flimsy pants, but instead of yanking it down over their ass, he grabbed it with his other hand and ripped.

“There we go.” Michael spread Sage’s ass, thumb teasing against their hole. “There’s my favorite fleshlight.” He pressed his thumb in, then snorted. “Not as, uh, tight as you should be. Someone else prep you?”

Sage squirmed, tried and failed to hide their burning face against the table. Aftershocks were still shuddering up and down their spine.  “Nnh— J-Jeremy.”

“Well. Remind me to send them a fucking thank-you card.”

With his thumb still buried to the knuckle, Michael sheathed himself in Sage’s cunt. Sage’s back arched, eyes rolling, knuckles going white on the table. 

“Jeeesus, you really were worked up, huh? Wet as shit.” Michael slid out just as quickly as he’d pushed in, guiding his dick up to their ass instead, pulling his thumb out. “Thanks for the free lube, slut. You’re gonna need it.”

Jeremy’s careful work had prepared Sage for penetration, but there was no way to prepare a human body for Michael. Sage winced between cries as Michael pounded them hard enough to rock the table. His hand was back in their hair, yanking and twisting, his open zipper scratching their thighs. This was what Sage had been aching for ever since Jack’s gentle tongue swirled over their clit that morning.

“Fuck, man,” Michael groaned, grabbing a soft handful of Sage’s ass as he fucked it. “Trevor’s gonna be so pissed.”

Michael’s hand kept the promise that Jeremy’s belt had broken. The first hard spank left a handprint and punched the air out of Sage’s lungs. Their chest heaved with every slap, gasping relief and shuddering through a second orgasm. Michael pinned them down as they writhed through it. The hand left their hair, replaced by teeth on their shoulder. These weren’t friendly nips; Michael left painful red marks. Sage didn’t stop squirming even as the waves of pleasure faded.

“That’s it, bitch,” Michael growled, “nnh, squeeze for me–”

Sage caught their breath, feeling every pulse of come in their ass. Michael pulled back, finally removing his teeth from their shoulder, but didn’t pull out right away. Sage’s breath steamed against the table as his nails ran lazily down their back. They hurt in a dozen places, but the aching strain of denial was finally gone.

Finally, as if satisfied with the view, Michael pulled out and left them on the table. He landed with a flump on the nearby couch, stretched for a moment, then braced his boot against the coffee table.

“A guy can’t take his fuckin’ shoes off around here,” he grunted, unlacing his boot, “without railing someone’s asshole first.”

Wobbling, Sage peeled themself off the table. Michael was kicking his boots off, pulling out his phone like nothing had happened. Well. Like nothing had happened, except for the fact that he was bare from waist to thigh, his balls and softening dick coated with both his and Sage’s come.

When Michael looked up again, he seemed genuinely surprised that Sage was still there. “What, you want me to make you breakfast?” His voice wasn’t as harsh as his words. Sex had softened his rough edges a little.

Gingerly, Sage sat on the couch with him. There was no way to pull their ruined pants back up, so their sore ass rested bare on the couch cushions. Nervous, not sure what they wanted, they placed a hand on his thigh.

Michael didn’t protest, turning his attention back to his phone. “You can clean me up if you want. I’m not getting up for a while, that was a good fuck.”

Gingerly, Sage scooted closer. Michael had gone back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone, so Sage leaned their head into his lap and nuzzled his balls. Satisfied at last, they could enjoy soft things again. They swallowed the happy little moan that bubbled up in their throat as they moved their tongue over him slowly.

Sage jumped a little when they felt a hand on their head. Glancing up, Michael wasn’t even looking at them, but his fingers busied themselves running through Sage’s hair, scritching their scalp. Sage melted, nearly started purring.

“Look good like that.” Michael’s voice, slurred and slow as it was from afterglow, made Sage smile. His fingers clenched a little, a mockery of a yank, laughable after how rough he’d just been with them. “C’mon, they’re not gonna worship themselves.”

Quiet enough that he couldn’t hear, Sage mumbled, “Yes sir,” and got back to work.

It was tempting to dissolve into the contentment of it all, the intimacy of Michael’s hand in their hair and the dull, throbbing reminders of his teeth and hands, the sore slickness between their legs… but there was one loose end Sage needed to tie up. Discreetly, covering up the sound with a pleased hum, Sage slipped a hand under their body.  They were still sensitive, twitching under the touch of fingers through barely-hanging-on yoga pants. They probably could have gotten off again from the sting of Michael’s bite marks and the deep ache of a rough fuck, but getting off again wasn’t their goal.

It wasn’t discreet enough.  Michael glanced down from his phone and scoffed.

“Again? That wasn’t enough for you?”

Sage pulled their pink face out of his lap. “I-it’s not that, it’s just… Trevor…” 

Trevor was expecting a whimpery, squirmy, desperate pet in his bedroom tonight. Sage could still cover up what they’d done, but only if they put on a performance. It would have to be convincing. Trevor’s anger was easy to redirect, but all the same…

The words wouldn’t come out, stuck behind a clog of shame. Michael had been wonderful, Sage wasn’t trying to one-up him, these were just… preventative measures.  

“Oh,Trevor?”

Sage’s head snapped up at the sound of Michael laughing. 

“I think that ship has fucking sailed.” Still chuckling, Michael tilted his phone down so they could see the screen. “I just sent him a photo of me balls-deep in your ass. Probably too late to pretend nothing happened between us, huh?”

Below the lurid picture– bite marks and all– a single massive text from Trevor dominated the text box. It was so long it ran off the bottom of the screen.

Your timing is impeccable, Michael. I was just pondering a spool of wire. Have you been garroted before? I’ve always wondered if it makes a bloodless death or not. Will you merely thrash yourself to death like an animal as your windpipe collapses, or will the wire bite into your skin and make a dreadful mess? I imagine it depends on the wire. Home Depot has a great selection of

“You think he’s pissed?” Michael snickered.

Sage’s stomach dropped through the floor.

Michael flicked the phone back around, scrolling idly through Trevor’s elaborate threats. “Don’t look so scared, I’ll keep him busy for a while. Go take a nap, sleep off that brutal assfucking.”

Sage could feel tears coming, and blinked them back. Before they could think better of it, they flung themself into Michael’s arms, hugging him around the neck and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He tensed up at first, but relaxed as he brought his hands up to their hips.

“Get the fuck out of here unless you want another round.” Idly, he picked up the gun that still rested on the table, though he didn’t aim it with any conviction. “Just so you know, round two ends with a bullet.”

Sage breathed, “Thank you, Michael,” as they pulled away.

A happy glow was humming in Sage’s chest, putting a spring in their wobbly steps. They left the room, turned a corner, and bounced off of Trevor’s solid chest.

Warmth fled Sage’s body like an extinguished candle. The look on Trevor’s face froze them in place, took the breath from their lungs. Before they could speak, Trevor grabbed them by the collar, choking off their words.

“Go. To. My. Room.” His grip tightened, pressing the leather hard against Sage’s throat. “And wait there.”

Sage nodded weakly. The collar was too tight for them to speak.

Somewhere behind them, Michael laughed. “Shit, you got here quick. Somethin’ wrong, buddy?”

Trevor’s searing gaze shifted away from Sage. He shoved them away, letting them cough and gasp for air. Without a word, he strode towards Michael.

Michael was sprawled on the couch with his arms resting on the back, a savage grin on his face, gun dangling from one hand. He hadn’t even bothered to tuck himself away. “Yeah, babe, c'mere and choke me. If you can.”

Sage didn’t wait to see whose blood hit the wall first. They scrambled down the hall towards Trevor’s room, heart pounding, afterglow all gone. For a moment, adrenaline overrode soreness.

Trevor’s anger was easy to redirect, but like a wandering dog, it sometimes found its way back home.