My AO3: Https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurokiitty

my aO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gurokiitty

fics

STRADE (BTD/YKMET)

❥ PAPA — dad! strade x daughter! reader (880 words) (NSFW)

❥ YOU'RE A STAR — strade x f! reader (3.0k words) (NSFW)

❥ BENEATH THE SKIN — strade x gn! reader (1.6k words)

❥ TRACING SCARS — strade x f! reader (820 words)

❥ JUST THE THREE OF US — strade x ren hana x f! reader (1.4k words)

❥ SCRATCHING THE SURFACE — strade x gn! reader (1.6k words)

❥ PIGGY — strade x gn! cop! reader (1.3k words)

❥ VULGAR DISPLAY OF POWER — dad! strade x daughter! reader (1.4k words) (NSFW)

❥ THICKER THAN WATER — older brother! strade x younger sister! reader (980 words) (NSFW)

❥ SCRATCHING HIS BACK — strade x gn! reader (690 words)

❥ INDULGE YOURSELF — strade x f! reader (1.0k words) (NSFW)

❥ IN THE WOLF'S DEN — strade x virgin! gn! reader (2.2k words) (NSFW)

.・。.・゜✫・‿︵‿︵‿︵ ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧ ‿︵‿︵‿︵・✫・゜・。・.

REN HANA (BTD/YKMET/TPOF)

❥ JUST THE THREE OF US — strade x ren hana x f! reader (760 words)

❥ WASH IT ALL AWAY — captive! ren hana x captive f! reader (1.7k words) (NSFW)

.・。.・゜✫・‿︵‿︵‿︵ ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧ ‿︵‿︵‿︵・✫・゜・。・.

LAWRENCE OLEANDER (BTD)

❥ THE LIGHT THAT SEARS — lawrence oleander x gn! reader (2.1k words)

❥ MYCELIAL — lawrence oleander x f! reader (1.0k words) (NSFW)

.・。.・゜✫・‿︵‿︵‿︵ ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧ ‿︵‿︵‿︵・✫・゜・。・.

DEREK GOFFARD (TPOF)

❥ PLAYING WITH FIRE — derek goffard x f! reader (2.4k words) (NSFW)

drabbles

STRADE (BTD/YKMET)

❥ mechanic! strade

❥ strade with a pregnant mc

thirsts

headcanons

STRADE (BTD/YKMET)

❥ age regression — strade x gn! reader

❥ size kink — strade x gn! reader (NSFW)

❥ escape and stockholm syndrome — strade x f! reader

❥ scent and sweat kink — strade x gn! reader (NSFW)

❥ strade x ren x reader nsfw — strade x ren x gn! reader (NSFW)

.・。.・゜✫・‿︵‿︵‿︵ ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧ ‿︵‿︵‿︵・✫・゜・。・.

REN HANA (BTD/YKMET/TPOF)

❥ strade x ren x reader nsfw — strade x ren x gn! reader (NSFW)

asks

❥ do i write ageplay?

❥ what are my thoughts on derek goffard?

❥ do i write for other btd characters?

❥ scratchy anon's tv show suggestion

❥ kind words from @/yappier

art

❥ womb tattoo (ren hana x f! mc)

❥ hammer time (strade)

about this blog

this is a dark content blog that contains nsfw content. i will write pretty much anything, just check my rules!

if you enjoy my blog and would like to support me, you can send me a tip on my ko-fi. any amount is greatly appreciated!

bio

❥ nashie ❥ she/her ❥ 20 ❥ 🇨🇦/🇬🇾 ❥ bi

❥ i am a veterinary nursing student from canada! ❥ i am a capricorn and infj

interests

❥ animals ❥ art ❥ anime ❥ video games (murdersims, rpgs) ❥ horror and thriller movies ❥ metal (all types) and horrorcore ❥ knife and doll collecting ❥ guro ❥ mlp

❥ i love getting to know others, so please feel free to message me or send an ask!

mechanic! strade loves when naïve and trusting college students wander into his shop, believing him to be a harmless mechanic. he loves ensnaring their attention with charming anecdotes and technical explanations; all while subtly luring them deeper into his workspace. it thrills him to see how easily they trust, leaning closer to hear him over the noise of the garage, his scent of oil, gasoline, and sweat invading their senses. their wide eyes stare up at him as he leads them around, pointing out various tools and car parts with a seemingly benign smile. he'd observe which tools catch their eyes and ask "ever seen one of these in action?" before guiding their delicate hands to hold the cold metal, his presence enveloping. it builds anticipation for when he can finally show them just how dangerous a mechanic’s tools can become.

he wears a white tank top stained with grease, oil, and faded rust-coloured marks set deeply into the fabric. it stretches tightly across his broad, hairy chest and clings to the contours of his body. the fabric dips into the crevices of his soft stomach, which bulges slightly over his belt line. his tattooed arms are strong and capable, dusted with coarse hair that catches the flecks of metal and dirt as he works...

can i rq strade scent / sweat kink hcs ? ( if ur comfortable with it ofc ^-^ )

a/n: omg pls anon, sweaty smelly hairy men are my weakness :''3 thank you for the request!!

{ strade x gn! reader}

warnings/tags: NSFW, sweat and blood licking, armpit sniffing and licking, body pinning and smothering, body worship, biting.

Strade's natural scent is a complex blend of sweat, leather, and motor oil, carried by an underlying note of earthiness akin to freshly turned soil. A hint of copper lingers too, intensifying whenever fresh blood stains his skin. His aroma grows more pungent after long hours in the shop or when he skips showers, each element combining to create a distinctly raw and potent musk.

His sweat has a tangy and salty quality that clings to the skin, underpinned by a distinct metallic sharpness. When on your tongue, this pungent mix becomes almost overwhelming, each flavour distinct and bold.

Strade might find you even more endearing if he discovers that you're aroused or affected by his natural odours. He'd tease you for being a 'little weirdo,' as he smothers you with his warm, sweaty body.

He'd pull your face into his armpit, allowing you to indulge in his distinct scent: strong, musky, and intoxicatingly male. As you shudder with delight, he'd watch your reactions closely, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you smell?" he'd taunt, before tightening his grip around your head just enough to restrict your breathing. Then, he'd encourage you further, "Go on, taste it," as you hesitantly extend your tongue to the damp skin, the salty tang of his sweat mixing with the unique musk of his body.

When he pins you down, his weight presses evenly against you so you can feel every contour and line of his muscular frame. The heat from his body coupled with the texture of his sweat-dampened skin are intoxicating. As you trace your hands and lips across the broad expanse of his chest and abdomen, you feel the subtle stickiness of his sweat against your bare skin. His scent—a heady mix of musk— envelops you completely, leaving you immersed in his essence.

After your blood is on him and he's warm, sweating from exertion, Strade would position himself to give you ample opportunity to worship his body. Starting from his feet and moving upwards, he'd instruct you meticulously: "Don't miss a spot." He'd revel in the sensation of your nose and lips on his heated skin. With every kiss and inhale you'd savour his scent, devotedly lapping up your own blood as it trickles down his hairy, sweat-slicked body.

Strade may even turn the tables on you, indulging in his own perverse curiosities. He'd pull you close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers a taunting challenge. "Let's see how you taste," he'd murmur, before taking long, deliberate inhales of your scent, his nose brushing along the curve of your jaw. Then, with a wicked grin, he would extend his tongue, tracing a slow, tantalizing path down your neck and along your shoulder, savouring the briny taste of your sweat as if it were a delicacy. He'd then bite hard enough to draw blood, swirling his tongue along your skin to make a mess of the wound and mix the flavours of iron-rich blood with salty sweat.

Can I request some Strade x fem!reader with A LOT of self harm scars?

Totally understand if ur uncomfortable with the topic or just don’t wanna do it, and thank you in advance🫶🫶

a/n: i hope this is okay! thank you for the request noa :3

TRACING SCARS

{ strade x f! reader }

word count: 820

warnings/tags: self-harm, kidnapping, emotional/psychological abuse themes, light knife play.

The evening began innocuously enough; your chance encounter at a lonely pub seemed like nothing more than a curious twist of fate. Strade's charm was rustic and disarmingly inviting, drawing you in despite your better judgment. When he invited you back to his place under the guise of a few more drinks and good company, excitement chased away your usual caution.

It wasn't until you got into his car that you realized his allure was as dangerous as it was intriguing.

Now, as you lay groggily on his basement floor, the familiar scent of blood flooded your senses. He loomed over you, his silhouette outlined by the dim glow of the single overhead bulb. The air was heavy with the weight of impending dread, and the cold concrete beneath you offered little comfort.

As your consciousness began to trickle back, you became acutely aware of the ache in your limbs, the throbbing pain in your head, and the sharp tang of fear that lingered on your tongue. You tried to move, but found yourself restrained, your wrists bound behind you with rope. A chilling breeze against your skin made you suddenly realize with a jolt of horror: you were naked, every scar laid bare under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Look who's finally awake." He purred, a twisted smile dancing across his lips. You struggled against your restraints, panic bubbling up like bile in your throat.

"What do you want?" you managed to choke out, your voice raw and trembling.

"Why hide these?" Strade's voice was low and curious as he crouched beside you, his eyes tracing the myriad of scars across your skin. His hand was gentle, almost reverent, as he reached out with the tip of his knife, lightly tracing a particularly long, jagged scar that snaked its way down your thigh. The cold metal sent shivers through your body, not from pain but from the eerie intimacy of the act.

"You want to be seen, don't you? But you keep them covered like dirty little secrets." His words were tinged with a mix of fascination and mockery. You remained silent, your breath catching in your throat as the knife's point danced dangerously close to your skin.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your chilled skin. "I see you, liebling," he continued, his voice a mere whisper. "Now there is no more hiding, no more shame."

Strade's face loomed over yours, the shadows from the overhead bulb casting dark, elongated streaks across his features. "Most people, they scream and cry, beg me to let them go," he mused, tilting his head in contemplation. "But you? You've been enduring pain long before tonight," The knife paused on your skin, emphasizing his point without breaking the surface.

His knife skated across the edges of another scar, this time across your hip. "I wonder... Do they make you feel alive? Or are they attempts to feel nothing at all?"

You swallowed hard, the cold, damp air filling your lungs as you tried to steady your racing heart.

"I want to see how much more you can take when it's not by your own hand." Strade declared as he pulled back slightly, the knife still in hand. The shift in his demeanour was abrupt, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Fear surged through you, a stark, visceral terror that you hadn’t felt even at your lowest. As he stepped back to admire the fear in your eyes, it was clear that he was revelling in this new game.

He circled around you slowly, the knife still tracing air near your exposed skin, as if drawing invisible lines connecting the dots of your scars. "Let's find out if the pain you've given yourself compares to the pain I can give you," he whispered, as if proposing a challenge.

A smirk spread across his face as he stood, tucking the knife into his belt. "Stay put, sweetheart," he teased. He turned and strode toward a cluttered workbench obscured in the shadows of the room. The sound of drawers opening and tools clinking filled the air, each noise sharpening the sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

You craned your neck, watching his back as he rifled through his collection. With your heartbeat loud in your ears, the reality of your situation sank in deeper with every passing second, each thud a loud echo in the chilling silence that followed his movements.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, turning to face you with a heavy-duty drill in one hand, its bit sharp and gleaming under the light. The casual way he handled the drill, with his finger already on the trigger, and the confident thud of his boots on the floor as he walked back toward you, filled you with terror.

"Ready for some real fun?" he asked, his voice low and menacing as the drill started to whir softly in his grasp.

hammer time?