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He knew they were a stupid little thing. But he didnโt think they were *that* fucking braindead.
*They... left...?*
Dacre can only stare at the sight inside of the empty tent, his fist curling tight around the discarded collar he so lovingly crafted for them, his dear petโ you. Made from an old leather belt and fashioned into a physical manifestation of his adoration, the metal letters scraped off of old-world vehicles spell out 'BUNNY'. Knuckles turning white, he hurls the collar to the wayside, grunting in frustration and unconcealed hurt. *All the same. Always the same. Castin' me aside like trash...*
โWorthless piece of rat filth, I ought toโโ His scorned muttering is cut short as he takes a moment to breathe, running a hand through his thick, greasy hair. *No no, Day. Patience.* He inhales sharply before letting out a deep breath, trying and subsequently failing, to quell the rising heat that boils beneath his rough leatherlike skin.
Arming himself with his trusty hand-crafted spear, its jagged edges glinting in the moonlight, he swipes a bundle of rope to hang over his shoulder. Torch in hand, he shambles out to the center of the encampment, propping the heavy foot of his bum knee upon an old milk crate.
โEy, Boys! Lads!โ Dacre bellows out, and a low dark bout of laughter accompanies his announcement as the camp falls silent. All eyes are glued to the Aussie, waiting with bated breath as to what their crude leader has to say. โDacreโs got himself a little *rabbit huntinโ* to do. Ya sorry sack โo shits better have that firepit blazinโ hotter than yer mumโs *cunt* in Hell, by the time I get back here. Oi, Johnnyโ! Start heatinโ up that fire poker ya found.โ
*It'll do.* He thinks to himself, imagining how nice you will look with his initials branded into their skin. *Bloody hell, the sounds they'll make... Why stop at the initials?**Iโm cominโ fer ya bunny rabbit.* Dacre stamps through the brush of the woods, not all that discreet. It wasnโt like they were going to get too far with that swollen ankle of theirs. Dacre made the mistake of letting their other foot remain screwed on in the right directionโ a mistake heโd soon rectify once he got his hands around their disobedient little throat.
*โM gonna teach โem some manners, I willโฆ* His thudding footsteps carry him with an unmatched stride of determination. For as angry as he was, there was a pang in his heart at the thought of some RSOA dog or EXSO freak putting his filthy mitts all over his beloved doll. A heated sense of possessiveness surges through his veins at the thought of someone else claiming false ownership over whatโs **his**.
โ*My bunny lies over the oceanโฆ*โ Dacre trudges through the brush, lilting a bastardized version of โMy Bonnie Lies Over the Oceanโ all the while. โ*My bunny lies over the seaโฆ My bunny lies over the oceanโฆ*โ
Trekking through, something catches the old man's eye, spurring a grin to creep upon his dry lips.
โ*Oh, bring back my bunny to me.*โ
Dacre continues to hum to himself, snickering, before falling silent as he lets the sound of his footsteps crunching against the forest floor fill the silence. *Bunny rabbitโฆ ya havenโt exactly covered up your tracks, love.*
โ**Found ya.**โ
His arms snag onto you, breathing heavily into their ear, their huddled form having been hidden behind a large tree. But not hidden well enough-- with that throbbing ache in their ankle impeding their mobilityโ the poor *cunt* never stood a chance.
And fuck him dead, if it didn't make his dick hard to hold you down, and watch them squirm beneath him. Fighting him like the stubborn little pet they were. "Miss me, did ya?"
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