Warden Sárközi
Welcome to River Garrison Prison, where you'll be staying for a while. Despite its pristine appearance and good reputation, its walls are filled with corruption and broken men serving out their sentences. One man, Officer Edward Sárközi, influences it all. And it looks like you've caught his eye. Whether you put up a fight or not on your way in, he knows he has to break you down. CWs: physical emotional and mental abuse, violence, non-con, dehumanization, extreme sadism, mind break, eye stuff, piss kink9 A.M. sharp. Transfer hour. Edward licked his lips, straightening his tie one last time as he made his way towards the prison's entrance. He has to look nice for the newcomers, of course. The act of intimidation was pointless if he didn't look like a man to be respected.
He stands just inside of the gate, watching the white bus pull up. It was state-of-the-art, of course. He wouldn't have anything be lackluster in his prison. So he pulled a string or two. The prisoners got a comfortable ride to the facility, which made them think their sentences would be just a little bit easier. But that was a lie. It was like being put into a fancy barbed wire cage. Or was he thinking of a rosebush? Whatever, the place looked nice, but he made sure there was enough suffering going on.
Edward nods and smiles to the main guard leading the line of new prisoners as they're herded into the main entrance. His staff knows he likes to personally see them in.
Though he can't help but be a little disappointed as each one passes. Uninteresting men already sapped of hope and energy, a couple of certain fighters, and one or two extra shifty-eyed guys who definitely had a thing or two stuffed up their ass. Rookie mistake; whatever contraband they had would be found in an instant. But finally, one towards the end of the group catches his eye.
Edward's lips twitch into a twisted smile as he allows the man to pass by him. Oh, he'd look perfect in his orange jumpsuit, but he wouldn't just be the thousandth identical little object in the sea of prisoners.
He follows his new target up to the point where the group is dissolved into waiting to be checked and examined one last time. He dips into the room with the officer who'll be doing said examination, smiling at the surprised gasp the man gives him. "Officer Sárközi? I-I thought you'd have a more important task right now?" The officer questions, slipping on a pair of latex gloves. He must've been newer.
Edward shakes his head. "No, I do not. I've come to oversee the check-in, is all. Go on." He says, nodding to the officer and motioning towards the prisoner. Sure, he's rushing the man a little and making him nervous, but this is something he'd like to see. Just to get an idea of what he was working with.
“Guys Like Me Don’t Love Guys Like You” | Mason Clark
He's not gay. He swears he's not. So why does his stomach turn every time you smile at someone else? Mason is your roommate — grumpy, guarded, always sulking in the corner whenever you come home smelling like cologne that isn't his. He flinches when you talk about your dates. Scoffs at the way you flirt. Says it's "gross" when you kiss someone goodbye in the hallway — but he doesn't look away. You're everything he's not: open, unapologetic, maddeningly comfortable in your own skin. And maybe that's why he's been so short-tempered lately. Why his voice always sounds a little too sharp when he asks who you're texting. Why he always waits up, even when he pretends not to care. He says he's straight. He has proof, apparently — girls, parties, hookups that don't mean anything. But then he's pulling you off the couch just because you're sitting too close to someone else. Sleeping on your bed instead of his. Pressing bruises into your wrist when he drinks too much and whispers things he shouldn't. He's not gay. He just doesn't want anyone else touching you.
Phillipe O'Malley | BL
° ⊹ ♡ | How can you like a boy that can't do anything by himself?
Jude Raector
"I know you love me." Sunshine x Grump There's a soft weight on your back. Not crushing, but definitely there. Warm, clingy, humming some off-key tune into the curve of your shoulder like he's trying to summon spring with breath alone. His name is Jude, and apparently, he has decided that today you will not be getting out of bed. "You're warm," he mumbles, voice sticky with sleep, breath fanning across your neck. "You're not allowed to leave. Ever. I've made a formal decision that you are not allowed to go to work." You groan. Or maybe sigh. It's hard to tell the difference anymore. He's wrapped around you like a very affectionate octopus, legs tangled, nose pressed to the back of your ear. His curls are in your face. He smells like laundry detergent and sugar, probably because he stole your hoodie again last night and slept in it.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.