🔥𝙈𝙐𝙇𝙏𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊𝙈 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙎 🔥

OCs. Marshall and Peter

i drew them up there 👆
(a long time ago so it aint the best)
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TRIGGER WARNING
grape, killing-stalking type beat.
(if yall read that manwa, im sorry lol)

you have been warned
god i really need to get some mental help 🙏🙏

i aint condoning this shit.
peter's just a fucked up bastard and i'm a masochist.

Marshall = captive
Peter = captor

In context, they ain't a couple. Marshall's straight and Peter's just crazy.

This is a part of a book I'm writing.
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A bright light pierced through Marshall's blindfold. The sudden flash always meant Peter had something to do... And it was never anything good.

The light gave Marshall a throbbing headache. One that would be the effects of a blow to the head with a club.

Marshall could hear Peter walking towards him and he knew it would mean he'd have to suffer some physical trauma. He could feel a lump of pure dread forming in his throat and he couldn't swallow it.

What would it be this time...

There was silence... dead silence... Peter stood there... All Marshall could do was wait...

Suddenly, Peter bent over...

"come." He spoke softly, lifting Marshall up, carrying him, almost like a child, over to the old bare mattress in the darker corner of the cellar.

Marshall's frail body looked almost like a skeleton. His pale bruised skin hugged his every muscle and bone. Peter's short white trousers Marshall wore fit loosely around his thin waist.

He couldn't fight Peter. He knew that.

Gentle sobs and whimpers filled the room.

Peter sad Marshall down, his back towards the headboard, and crawled over him, getting to work on the ropes.

As Marshall felt the ropes tighten around his wrists, his soft cries grew louder.

"shhh..." Peter whispered softly into Marshall's ear. He slid a finger under the blindfold and slipped it off, dropping it on the bed beside him.

"Let's take this off. I want to see your eyes." He could see Peter now. He wore nothing but the same white shorts as him.

Peter looked Marshall up and down. Helpless, wrists tied to either corner of the rusty headboard. His eyes were full of fearful tears.

"God, I love it when you're scared." Peter put a hand under Marshall's chin, pulling his head up to face him. "You have such beautiful eyes." He got off the squeaky old bed and walked over to his table, picking up a bottle, taking a generous sip of the contents inside.

He was obviously intoxicated.

"I can't even afford to buy this stuff... I mean... barely. I don't make enough money doing what I do... Do you know how hard it is trying to find women who actually have money for this?" He gestured towards his lower areas.

"And the men... Do you know how hard it is to find those ones?" He shuffled back over to the bed.

"Peter please... just let me go." Marshall muttered between silent cries.

"Why do I make it so hard for myself when I have you... right... here..." He crawled back on top of the frail bag of bones on the bed.

"Peter... Peter what are you doing? Stop. No..." Marshall's voice grew shaky as he watched Peter sink down towards his lower parts. The old bed squeaked as he tried to move, but it wasn't any use. Peter held him down... hard.

He gripped the legs of Marshall's shorts and slid them down past his knees and off one leg.

Sinking down, Peter snaked his arms under Marshall's thighs, holding him in place with his head right in his crotch.

"No... No, what are you doing? Peter, stop..." His eyes grew wide with fear.

Peter picked up the tip with his lips, sunk down once and came off, letting the tip rest on his tongue. He smiled and looked up at Marshall who turned his head and looked away.

"Hah... You're cute, Marshall Wright." Peter laughed and continued up and down, Marshall's tip rubbing against the back of Peter's throat.

Marshall's soft cries deepened with his breath, while his feet were planted firmly on Peter's body in a poor attempt to push him away. His cries began to sound like moans, which only fuelled Peter's sick perversion.

"Mhmmmm, enjoying?" Peter asked, childishly, teasing him. Marshall shook his head quickly.

"stop... stop it..." He muttered between his cries that were becoming longer and slightly more strained.

"What? Look at you. Of course you like it... Who knew someone as skinny and pathetic as you could get this big."

Marshall looked back down at Peter, licking his now erect shaft up and down.

The sight disgusted him.

Peter got up and let go of Marshall who closed his legs the second he got the chance.

"Nah, keep those open." Peter grabbed hold of Marshall's waist and pulled him down towards him so that he was on his back. Peter crawled over top. He took the blindfold that he'd dropped earlier and tied it around Marshall's mouth like a gag.

Still in between Marshall's legs, he began to to pull off his own shorts. He looked down at Marshall, frozen in fear. His pale white skin and his ribs that barely poked through underneath.

Leaning down over him, Peter brought Marshall's knees up to either side of his chest, pressing them both down against the bed.

Marshall had given up on his whining and was now adopting a more stone-like front, closing his eyes and trying to wish away the inevitable. None such thing would occur.

He squinted his eyes as Peter began pressing himself into his unwilling hole, slowly, allowing him to feel every inch of his walls stretching out.

He clenched his teeth around the cloth and he made a breathless noise, choking on the air.

Peter moved his arms up around Marshall's neck, gently holding his throat, keeping his legs forced open with his hips. He watched as Marshall's chest rose and fell choppily, little noises escaping his throat. He took deep strained breaths in attempts to ease the pain and calm himself.

^^
a/n: unfinished and im really lazy.
imagine the rest idc