shadowhive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shadowhive) wrote2024-01-16 02:16 am
shadowhive) wrote2024-01-16 02:16 am
Entry tags:
Punching Bag
Punching Bag
Pairing: Q!Fit/Q!Spreen, q!Fit/q!Pac (mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Kinktober 3: Hate sex
Warnings: Non-con, mindbreak (along with body modification)
Notes: Back to kinktober and it’s a new thing that I just started a few days ago instead of my wips. I blamefleshdoll for this, both for originally suggesting Fit hatesex back in the early kinktober replies and more recent rambles. This is the QSMP versions of themselves, so it’s set just after Fit and Pac’s date from last week,
Fit was quite pleased with how the date went all things considered. They’d managed to see the film, have some dinner and he’d even got to talk to Pac about his mission here. He’d been glad that he was supportive of him, making it clear that he would help if need it as well as promising further dates in the future.
The only real problem had been Tubbo with his clumsy attempts at messing things up. The picture he’d put up had been such an obvious fake that he wasn’t fooled for a second, though teleporting Tubbo away had been a bigger issue. He’d have to sit up him down and have a talk with him soon to stop it from happening again.
And if it did keep happening? Then he would have to take steps.
For now though he would take his frustration out on another target. He stepped down into the basement of his gym, which was behind a keypad locked door and he turned the lights on, illuminating the basement. There, in the middle of the room and chained to the ceiling was Spreen.
The bear hybrid had been the man he’d ended up being Ramon’s other parent, but he had been absent and neglectful. It had stung a bit, especially when he’d saw how the other egg parents bonded even in spite of their issues. Then in May he just vanished, without a word and no one knew what happened to him. Then a few months later Spreen returned, acting like nothing had happened. Fit could have that, he couldn’t have him around, so that he could break his baby boy’s heart again.
Fit lured him back to the basement, telling him it was to catch him up on what he’d missed, when actually he intended to imprison him there, making sure he wasn’t going to be a problem again.
Over the months he’d made modifications to him, mostly to make sure he’d be more compliant. Most of his teeth had gone early on, followed by his hands so he no longer had claws. That had been useful as he’d left some of his teeth around a mob den, which he figured the federation must have found when they announced Spreen was dead when Purgatory started.
As Fit approached the boy’s head turned to look at him. In the early weeks and months there had been fire in those eyes and streams of Spanish expletives passed his lips but those had long since passed. He’d come to accept his place here now, knowing no one was looking for him, that everyone had assumed he’d gone forever even before the ‘confirmation’ of his death. “I’ve had a busy day, but an islander has been an annoying little shit so I’m going to take it out on you.”
Spreen nodded slightly, before speaking his heavily accented voice. “Yes sir.”
Fit grinned and then punched him hard in the stomach. Spreen didn’t cry out, instead just letting out a soft grunt from the pain. That was the only sound he made as Fit kept punching him, raining blows on him as he circled around his hanging body. Mostly he used his bare hand, but occasionally he would use his prosthetic one instead. It caused him more pain since the fist was made of metal, but he preferred the way his barehand felt. Fit smirked as he swung from the hits, and he channelled the rage he’d felt from Tubbo into the blows.
This was far from the first time he’d done this. He’d found having Spreen as a punching bag was a great source of stress relief. There had been many times that he had got angry or annoyed, be it at the mobs of the island, or the other islanders or the Federation and he found that it was much better to unleash all that onto Spreen then bottling up or letting it out on any of them.
A few times he’d considered telling some of the others, so that they could use him whenever they got stressed as well, but he had always talked himself out of doing so. After all they might not understand, or maybe even try and set him free and he couldn’t have that, not now.
After punching the bear boy a few more times he stopped, needing to take a break from it. He wiped the sweat from his brow, smirking as he looked him over. He knew that under the dark fur he was completely covered in bruises. Sometimes he’d thought about shaving him, to get a good look at all the bruises hed caused, but he’d decided it would be too much work.
Now though Fit’s blood was pumping in a different way, especially when he saw blood was drinking down his nose, across his lower lip. He smirked at the sight before pressing the button to lower Spreen’s chains. He stopped when they were at the level he required and then he reached down, undoing his flies and pushing his pants down until they fell to his feet.
He closed the distance between them again, getting behind him and reaching for Spreen’s ass, removing the plug from between his furry cheeks. It kept him nice and open, so he didn’t need to bother with stretching him whenever he felt the need. He smirked again at the tight of his opening, then lined himself up and thrust inside him with a wordless growl.
He wasn’t tight, not after the abuse he’d been subjected to over the past months, but he still felt good around him. He started to move right away, pulling out and slamming back into him, causing his body to move and make the chains that held him rattle above him. Soft sounds started leaving his lips now, mostly pathetic whimpers and Fit loved every one of them his dick aching inside his heat.
He had considered sharing him with the other residents as a set of holes to fuck instead of as a punching bag. Maybe there was some way of setting him up in a way that he could be anonymous, like with his mouth and ass each at a glory hole, available for anyone that wanted release. It was certainly an idea, though one that would probably lead to further questions.
He shook such thoughts from his head for now, as hot as it would be to have Spreen’s holes dripping from where the islanders had used him he had to focus on his own current needs, his own pleasure. It wasn’t hard to do, the beating he’d given him had gotten him so worked up that he knew he was probably going to fill him soon. He shifted his prosthetic hand up his body, the metal a contrast between the black fur and he stopped to grip his hair, yanking his head back sharply. “Moan for me you pathetic piece of shit.”
Instantly Spreen started to make noise. It was mostly moans and groans, with the occasional expletive thrown in, along with some broken words in Spanish. It wasn’t anything of value though, Fit had learned enough now to know that he was begging, though not for release, but to be fucked and fucked hard. It gave Fit a rush and he growled, his hand gripping onto him tighter as he slammed into him, painting his insides with his load, marking the bear boy as his again.
When he let go of him he pulled out, stepping away and pressing the button to raise the chains back up so his head was in line with his own. He reached up, his fingers drawing with the chains met what was left of his arms. He felt he’d done a good job implanting them into him, making sure that he couldn’t leave this place.He cupped his chin, making sure he was looking right at him, even though his eyes were slightly glazed. “I’m going to leave you now, to go back to my nice warm bed and dream of my new Brazilian boyfriend while you just hang here in the dark.” Spreen whimpered and Fit released him, picking the plug up from the floor and stuffing it back into his used hole.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I’ll leave you with this.” He picked up a special mask that he had made for him, slipping it over his head and securing it in place. The mask had two features to it, the secondary one was that it obscured his vision and he’d considered also making it block his ears though had decided against it after some thought. However the mask’s main purpose was the tube from his mouth, which led up to the ceiling. The other end of it was connected to a machine which would turn waste food into a type of slurry that would be used to feed him. It meant he didn’t need to bother doing it himself and it was especially useful if he had other, more important things to do.
He didn’t say another word to the boy, simply turning off the light and leaving the room, leaving him in darkness.
Pairing: Q!Fit/Q!Spreen, q!Fit/q!Pac (mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: Kinktober 3: Hate sex
Warnings: Non-con, mindbreak (along with body modification)
Notes: Back to kinktober and it’s a new thing that I just started a few days ago instead of my wips. I blame
fleshdoll for this, both for originally suggesting Fit hatesex back in the early kinktober replies and more recent rambles. This is the QSMP versions of themselves, so it’s set just after Fit and Pac’s date from last week,Fit was quite pleased with how the date went all things considered. They’d managed to see the film, have some dinner and he’d even got to talk to Pac about his mission here. He’d been glad that he was supportive of him, making it clear that he would help if need it as well as promising further dates in the future.
The only real problem had been Tubbo with his clumsy attempts at messing things up. The picture he’d put up had been such an obvious fake that he wasn’t fooled for a second, though teleporting Tubbo away had been a bigger issue. He’d have to sit up him down and have a talk with him soon to stop it from happening again.
And if it did keep happening? Then he would have to take steps.
For now though he would take his frustration out on another target. He stepped down into the basement of his gym, which was behind a keypad locked door and he turned the lights on, illuminating the basement. There, in the middle of the room and chained to the ceiling was Spreen.
The bear hybrid had been the man he’d ended up being Ramon’s other parent, but he had been absent and neglectful. It had stung a bit, especially when he’d saw how the other egg parents bonded even in spite of their issues. Then in May he just vanished, without a word and no one knew what happened to him. Then a few months later Spreen returned, acting like nothing had happened. Fit could have that, he couldn’t have him around, so that he could break his baby boy’s heart again.
Fit lured him back to the basement, telling him it was to catch him up on what he’d missed, when actually he intended to imprison him there, making sure he wasn’t going to be a problem again.
Over the months he’d made modifications to him, mostly to make sure he’d be more compliant. Most of his teeth had gone early on, followed by his hands so he no longer had claws. That had been useful as he’d left some of his teeth around a mob den, which he figured the federation must have found when they announced Spreen was dead when Purgatory started.
As Fit approached the boy’s head turned to look at him. In the early weeks and months there had been fire in those eyes and streams of Spanish expletives passed his lips but those had long since passed. He’d come to accept his place here now, knowing no one was looking for him, that everyone had assumed he’d gone forever even before the ‘confirmation’ of his death. “I’ve had a busy day, but an islander has been an annoying little shit so I’m going to take it out on you.”
Spreen nodded slightly, before speaking his heavily accented voice. “Yes sir.”
Fit grinned and then punched him hard in the stomach. Spreen didn’t cry out, instead just letting out a soft grunt from the pain. That was the only sound he made as Fit kept punching him, raining blows on him as he circled around his hanging body. Mostly he used his bare hand, but occasionally he would use his prosthetic one instead. It caused him more pain since the fist was made of metal, but he preferred the way his barehand felt. Fit smirked as he swung from the hits, and he channelled the rage he’d felt from Tubbo into the blows.
This was far from the first time he’d done this. He’d found having Spreen as a punching bag was a great source of stress relief. There had been many times that he had got angry or annoyed, be it at the mobs of the island, or the other islanders or the Federation and he found that it was much better to unleash all that onto Spreen then bottling up or letting it out on any of them.
A few times he’d considered telling some of the others, so that they could use him whenever they got stressed as well, but he had always talked himself out of doing so. After all they might not understand, or maybe even try and set him free and he couldn’t have that, not now.
After punching the bear boy a few more times he stopped, needing to take a break from it. He wiped the sweat from his brow, smirking as he looked him over. He knew that under the dark fur he was completely covered in bruises. Sometimes he’d thought about shaving him, to get a good look at all the bruises hed caused, but he’d decided it would be too much work.
Now though Fit’s blood was pumping in a different way, especially when he saw blood was drinking down his nose, across his lower lip. He smirked at the sight before pressing the button to lower Spreen’s chains. He stopped when they were at the level he required and then he reached down, undoing his flies and pushing his pants down until they fell to his feet.
He closed the distance between them again, getting behind him and reaching for Spreen’s ass, removing the plug from between his furry cheeks. It kept him nice and open, so he didn’t need to bother with stretching him whenever he felt the need. He smirked again at the tight of his opening, then lined himself up and thrust inside him with a wordless growl.
He wasn’t tight, not after the abuse he’d been subjected to over the past months, but he still felt good around him. He started to move right away, pulling out and slamming back into him, causing his body to move and make the chains that held him rattle above him. Soft sounds started leaving his lips now, mostly pathetic whimpers and Fit loved every one of them his dick aching inside his heat.
He had considered sharing him with the other residents as a set of holes to fuck instead of as a punching bag. Maybe there was some way of setting him up in a way that he could be anonymous, like with his mouth and ass each at a glory hole, available for anyone that wanted release. It was certainly an idea, though one that would probably lead to further questions.
He shook such thoughts from his head for now, as hot as it would be to have Spreen’s holes dripping from where the islanders had used him he had to focus on his own current needs, his own pleasure. It wasn’t hard to do, the beating he’d given him had gotten him so worked up that he knew he was probably going to fill him soon. He shifted his prosthetic hand up his body, the metal a contrast between the black fur and he stopped to grip his hair, yanking his head back sharply. “Moan for me you pathetic piece of shit.”
Instantly Spreen started to make noise. It was mostly moans and groans, with the occasional expletive thrown in, along with some broken words in Spanish. It wasn’t anything of value though, Fit had learned enough now to know that he was begging, though not for release, but to be fucked and fucked hard. It gave Fit a rush and he growled, his hand gripping onto him tighter as he slammed into him, painting his insides with his load, marking the bear boy as his again.
When he let go of him he pulled out, stepping away and pressing the button to raise the chains back up so his head was in line with his own. He reached up, his fingers drawing with the chains met what was left of his arms. He felt he’d done a good job implanting them into him, making sure that he couldn’t leave this place.He cupped his chin, making sure he was looking right at him, even though his eyes were slightly glazed. “I’m going to leave you now, to go back to my nice warm bed and dream of my new Brazilian boyfriend while you just hang here in the dark.” Spreen whimpered and Fit released him, picking the plug up from the floor and stuffing it back into his used hole.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I’ll leave you with this.” He picked up a special mask that he had made for him, slipping it over his head and securing it in place. The mask had two features to it, the secondary one was that it obscured his vision and he’d considered also making it block his ears though had decided against it after some thought. However the mask’s main purpose was the tube from his mouth, which led up to the ceiling. The other end of it was connected to a machine which would turn waste food into a type of slurry that would be used to feed him. It meant he didn’t need to bother doing it himself and it was especially useful if he had other, more important things to do.
He didn’t say another word to the boy, simply turning off the light and leaving the room, leaving him in darkness.