Can You Write About Fem Strade X Fem Mc

can you write about fem strade x fem mc 👉👈

a/n: HECK YES I CAN !!!!

CAN YOU HANDLE IT?

{ f! strade x f! reader }

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: NONCON, mentions of blood and injury, facesitting, suffocation, foreign object insertion.

When you first laid eyes on her, you felt a twinge of something unfamiliar yet compelling, like a moth drawn to an unearthly flame. Strade was unlike anyone you'd ever met—a whirlwind of charm and confidence, her aura both captivating and dangerous. The bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and the murmur of conversations, but you were entrapped.

Her smile was disarming, a perfect blend of warmth and mischief that made you feel seen in a way that was both thrilling and unsettling. Her freckled brown eyes seemed to see right through you, as if she knew your darkest secrets and loved you for them. She spoke with such ease, her voice a soothing melody that made you forget you were strangers. Every word she uttered wrapped around you like a silken thread, drawing you closer to her web.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, her accent adding an intriguing lilt to her words.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away. "Sure, why not?"

You talked for what felt like hours, her laughter ringing in your ears like a beautiful, haunting tune. She made you feel special, desired in a way you'd never felt before. When she suggested going back to her place, you didn't hesitate. It seemed like a natural progression, an inevitability.

Now, you lay on the cold, hard floor of her basement, your wings singed beyond repair. You couldn't remember when you were stripped naked or how your wrists ended up bound behind your back. All you knew was that your body throbbed, and your skin was sticky with sweat and blood.

You tried to convince yourself it was just a nightmare, that you were passed out drunk on your sofa, but the pain was too real. Every pulse, every ache, was a cruel reminder that this was your reality.

And of course, she was too.

Strade stood over you, the same endearing smile plastered on her face, but now it seemed grotesque, a mask of sadistic pleasure. In her hand, she held a hammer, its head coated in crimson.

"Aw, ready to give up already, schätzchen?" she purred, her voice sending a chill down your spine. "I hope not, we're just getting started."

You didn't respond, your mouth too dry, your head too foggy to form words. Instead, you stared up at her, hoping she could see the plea in your eyes.

"Ever eaten a woman out before?" she asked casually, shifting her weight to one leg. As she hovered above you, the overhead lights bathed her in a golden halo, and you couldn't help but feel small and insignificant beneath her.

You nodded, the movement making your head swim. Strade merely chuckled in response.

"Good!" she mused, her smile widening. "I'd hate to waste time teaching you."

You knew you had no choice. Protesting would only bring more pain, and you couldn't bear the thought of her hitting you again. She dropped her pants and lowered herself onto your face, her scent overwhelming your senses.

"Lick," she commanded, her body sinking down you.

Her thick thighs pressed against your cheeks, her warmth spreading over your skin like a stifling blanket. The pressure was suffocating, her full weight making it hard to breathe. Her skin was hot and slick with sweat, the musk of her arousal filling your nostrils and coating your tongue as you reluctantly obeyed her command. You could feel her every movement, every shift and grind, each one pressing her deeper against you, further sealing your fate beneath her.

Your tongue moved with more urgency as she pressed down harder, and soon her soft moans filled the room. You felt her muscles tense and relax, her hips grinding against you as she chased her release.

"Mmm, let's see how you handle this, Liebling," she cooed, her legs caging your face.

She didn't lift herself off you; instead, she hovered slightly, ensuring you were still beneath her as she reached for the hammer. With a cruel smile, she dropped herself back down, suffocating you once more. Strade then ran the hard, wooden handle along your slit, dragging it agonizingly up and down as struggled to breathe.

Then, without warning, she inserted it into you, the intrusion sharp and painful. You gasped, your body tensing against the bonds that held you in place. She began to move it slowly at first, each thrust sending waves of discomfort through you, a twisted echo of the pleasure she had taken moments before. The handle stretched and scraped along your walls, and her pelvis jerked into your face.

Her breathing quickened and mingled with each shuddering gasp you made. Strade's excitement was palpable, her hips grinding harder against your face as she found pleasure in your torment.

You struggled to breathe, your airways constricted by her weight pressing down on you. Panic surged through you as you fought for even the smallest breath, your vision blurring at the edges. Desperation clawed at your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to scratch at her thighs, to push her off, to find relief—but your wrists remained uselessly bound beneath you, denying you even the slightest chance of escape.

"Yes, that's it," she panted, her voice heavy with arousal. "Struggle for me, Liebling. Let me feel your desperation."

The handle moved faster inside you, each thrust a painful, throbbing presence, interwoven with the suffocating pressure against your face. Your lungs burned, and you could feel your strength waning, the fight slowly draining from your body as the lack of oxygen took its toll.

Strade's moans reached a fever pitch, her movements becoming more erratic and frenzied. She was close, teetering on the edge of her release, her pleasure derived from your suffering. Every twitch, every futile struggle only seemed to heighten her arousal, driving her further into a state of ecstasy.

"That's it, keep going," she urged, her voice a breathless whisper. "Don't stop. Show me how much you can take."

You tried to comply, your tongue moving as best it could under the crushing weight, but your body was failing you. Darkness crept in at the corners of your vision, your mind teetering on the brink of unconsciousness. You could hear your own heartbeat, a frantic drum in your ears, each beat a desperate plea for air.

Just as you thought you couldn't endure any longer, Strade shuddered above you, her climax ripping through her with a force that left her trembling. She rode out her orgasm, her hips jerking erratically, before finally collapsing forward, her weight pressing down even harder, if only for a moment.

Then, she slowly lifted herself off you, the sudden rush of air almost as painful as the suffocation. You gasped desperately, your lungs burning as they filled with much-needed oxygen. Tears streamed down your face, your body shaking uncontrollably from the ordeal.

Strade looked down at you, her expression one of sated pleasure and cruel satisfaction. She ran a hand through her tousled hair, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

"You did so well," she praised, her gaze lingering on your heaving chest, the blood and sweat glistening on your skin. She paused, seeming to savour every inch of your suffering, like a connoisseur appreciating a fine meal.

"I think I'll keep you around... Mein kleines Haustier."

qUESTION DO U KNOW CREEPYPASTA????

yes! although i've only ever read/played games based on a few of the old ones (like ben drowned, sonic.exe, jeff the killer, slender man, etc.)

do u do platonic hcs or nah?

i can :)