#I WILL TWIST THE KNIFE AND BLEED MY ACHING HEART! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetduchess · 9 months

Note

so... there's a anime where the first episode was traumatic for many reasones. (Oshi no ko, i believe) and i want some angst about that first episode. Muzan, Akaza, kokushibo & Douma headcanons for when they see their wife (y/n) getting stabbed by a stalker that was obsessed with them? (i know all of them would kill the stalker vjbjnffj) i also want their reactions to where she wants to become a demon like them so she could see their children would grow up. tysm if you're able to do this!

I loved Oshi no ko, because I was not expecting the dark turn it took.😳

Content Warning: The following text contains references to violence and sensitive themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Muzan

Muzan's eyes widen in shock and fury as he sees the stalker attacking you, his beloved wife.

In an instant, he unleashes his wrath upon the stalker, tearing him apart mercilessly for daring to harm you.

With his heart filled with rage, Muzan cradles your injured form in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding while vowing to make you better.

His eyes flicker with concern and love as he begs you to hold on, promising that he will do anything to keep you safe and by his side forever.

The night was dark and suffused with danger as you walked the deserted alley, oblivious to the predator lurking in the shadows. Muzan was trailing behind you, his crimson eyes fixed on your every move, pride swelling in his heart as he watched you gracefully navigate the world. But before he could react, the stalker emerged, his twisted obsession turning violent as he lunged at you with a knife.

Muzan's rage erupted like an inferno. In the blink of an eye, he dispatched the stalker, tearing him apart with unimaginable brutality. He rushed to your side, his heart pounding with worry, and cradled your injured form in his arms. "Darling, hold on," he pleaded, his voice laced with urgency and affection. "I'll make you better. I'll give you everything you desire."

As you clung to consciousness, weakly smiling up at him, you revealed your truest wish - to become a demon like him. Muzan's eyes widened in surprise and hesitation, torn between his desire to keep you safe and the prospect of granting you immortality. He gazed into your eyes, conflicted yet full of love, before making his decision.

Akaza

Akaza's expression darkens, and his eyes blaze with anger as he witnesses the stalker's attack on you, the love of his life.

Without hesitation, he rips the stalker apart, his strength fueled by his desperation to protect you.

Gathering you into his arms, Akaza's eyes soften with worry as he tries to heal your wounds, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and love.

He promises to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

The moon hung high in the sky as you wandered through a deserted park, unaware of the looming danger. Akaza's keen senses alerted him to the presence of the stalker, and he followed behind, his heart filled with possessive affection for you. When the stalker attacked, Akaza's rage surged, and with a swift strike, he ended the threat.

He rushed to your side, cradling you in his strong arms. "Don't worry, my love," he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. "I'll heal you." His blood demon art washed over you, beginning to mend your wounds as the damage was severe.

As you weakly smiled up at him, you expressed your desire to be immortal like him, so you could see your children grow up. Akaza's eyes widened in shock and conflict, torn between his loyalty to Muzan and his love for you. But as he looked into your eyes, the love you shared broke through his hesitation, and he vowed to find a way to grant your wish.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo's neutral expression turns into one of pure rage as he sees the stalker harming you, his beloved wife.

With incredible speed, he swiftly deals with the stalker, slicing through him with his Moon Breathing techniques, but the damage has already been done.

Kokushibo holds you tenderly, his heart aching at the sight of your injuries. He uses his blood demon art to heal you, knowing that he can save you.

He vows to protect you at all costs, even if it means forsaking his quest for power. He tells you that he can't bear to lose you and will do whatever it takes to keep you with him.

The moon illuminated the night as you walked through the deserted forest, enjoying the serenity it provided. Kokushibo silently trailed behind, his adoration for you evident in his gaze. He sensed the stalker before he attacked, but he allowed you to confront the danger, confident in your abilities. However, when the stalker lunged at you, Kokushibo acted with decisive speed.

He sliced through the stalker with his Moon Breathing techniques, dispatching him with lethal precision. As he approached you, his stoic demeanor faltered, and he tenderly held you in his arms. "Please be strong," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

You revealed your wish to become a demon like him, so you could see your children grow up. Kokushibo's eyes softened with surprise and conflicted feelings. He had long forsaken his humanity, but the thought of sharing his immortality with you stirred emotions he had long suppressed. He promised to find a way to make you immortal, for he could not bear to lose you.

Douma

Douma's usual nonchalant demeanor shatters as he witnesses the stalker attacking you, his precious wife.

Filled with rage, he disposes of the stalker ruthlessly, his twisted smile replaced by a fierce expression of protectiveness.

He cradles you in his arms, his heart pounding with fear and worry as he uses his blood demon art to heal your wounds.

Douma admits that he cannot bear to lose you and agrees to make you immortal like him, so you can stay together forever.

The shadows danced around you as you walked through the dimly lit streets, your carefree demeanor captivating to Douma's darkened soul. The stalker's sickening obsession with you was evident in his twisted grin as he lunged at you with a blade. Douma was quicker, and with a macabre grin, he dispatched the stalker with his blood demon art.

He approached you, his voice laced with concern. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked, his eyes softening with genuine affection as he tended to your wounds.

As you smiled weakly, you confessed your desire to become a demon, driven by your love for your children and your wish to witness their growth. Douma's laughter faltered, and his usual playful demeanor wavered. He was torn between his loyalty to Muzan and his growing affection for you. But as he looked into your eyes, he saw the depth of your love and the sincerity of your request. He promised to find a way to make you a demon, vowing to keep you with him for eternity.

#xreader #muzan jackson #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #kokushibo x reader #kny kokushibo #kokushibo #akaza x reader #akaza #kny akaza #kny douma #douma #douma x reader #demon slayer douma

261 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 5 months

Note

It's been a year since any vampire Kate 😭

Title: I Don't Bite [Part Eight]

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 2297

Warnings: Mentions of sex, blood, Tony Stark, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: I straight up hate this, but I've written myself into a bit of a corner and think that you guys deserve an ending to this one soon, so here's an update! I do have more ideas for Vampire Kate just not... this]

Read from the Start | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There was a staleness to your home after three days of being abandoned. The sun was filtering through rolling dark clouds, a coldness filling your bones. The place you’d resided in for the last year didn’t feel like yours anymore. A smudge of dark brown blood against the doorframe to the bathroom was the only trace that Kate had ever stepped foot here.

Her car wasn’t in the driveway. Your fingers trembled as you struggled to open the door. Bobbi and Jemma’s home was eerily quiet, as if it had been abandoned long ago. The lights leading up to the front door were the only sign of life. Your heart was pounding in your throat by the time your back pressed against the inside of your door.

It may have been foolish to return here, but you simply had nowhere else to go. The worry you held for a woman that you had spent a single night in a dingy hotel room with, was alarming, if not understandable. You were willing to risk your job for her safety and risk your life for the same.

You pulled a mug from your kitchen cabinet and filled it with lukewarm water, gulping it down without regard for the moisture that soaked into the collar of your shirt- Kate’s shirt- that you were reluctant to take off despite it being wrinkled with wear.

“You have no survival instincts, do you?”

The voice startled you, water sputtering from your lips. You coughed at the unfamiliar feeling of drowning is the most trivial regard. Your intuition kicked in, finally, and you grasped the largest knife from the butcher block by the sink. You held it between you and Jemma, her eyebrow raised.

“What do you intend to do with that thing? Stab me?”

“If I have to, yes.”

She was leaning back in one of your kitchen chairs, her legs crossed with an elegance that always accompanied her. For a moment, you considered asking how she got in, but it would be easy for a SHIELD agent to do so, and you decided not to waste your breath. Despite yourself, you were in awe of the still and calm nature she exuded.

“Y/n, we both know you don’t have it in you.” She stood and walked to the side of the counter, all the while, your grip tightened on the steak knife, the tip twisting in the air. “Maybe you do. I keep telling Bobbi not to underestimate the power of infatuation.”

“Are you even a biochemist, or was that a lie too?”

“Oh no, I’m quite gifted in the field. I’m a woman of science, and so is Bobbi. It’s why they put the two of us here in the first place, to understand Kate. What she is and what her intentions are.” There was a hint of honesty to her voice that you were inclined to believe. “SHIELD’s job is to minimize civilian involvement in the unknown. Neither of us wanted to see you get involved.”

Your arm was starting to ache, the knife between the two of you faltering before you regained your grip, steeling yourself. A laugh threatened to bubble from your chest. This was all ridiculous. There was a spy in your kitchen hunting a vampire. Just last month you wouldn’t’ dream of holding a blade between yourself and Jemma.

She was packing though, and the gesture made you feel just a tick better than if you were empty handed. “Civilian involvement, Jemma, I’ve heard all about Tony Starks ties to you. SHIELD is all over his documents, it practically bleeds ignorance.”

Jemma drummed her fingers against the granite of the counter, letting out a heavy sigh. Her eyes flicked to the front door, and then the glass of the back. She had an eye on all of her exits, and that made a deep seed of worry settle in the pit of your stomach.

“We’re not the bad guys here, Y/n. You’ve worked for Tony and Pepper for what? Ten years now? That must build some type of trust. Stark may be daft sometimes, but he doesn’t’ back ideas he doesn’t believe in. You know that.”

You did know that. Though you had started out fetching coffee for Pepper, you’d soon climb the ranks from an intern to a personal assistant that was not only privy to the companies’ deepest secrets, but the sharpest decisions. Tony, despite his peacocking, was a good guy that you’d put your confidence in.

“Bobbi, she’s good but she’s rash. I tried to talk her out of cornering you like she did. But despite her brashness she has a point. You’re putting your faith in the wrong direction.” Jemma gently pushed your hand down, moving the sharp end of the knife to the floor. She didn’t’ attempt to pry it from you. “There are things in this world, y/n, that need to be researched to be understood.”

Jemma asked you where Kate was, and your eyes darted down to the blade before retuning it to the wooden block with ease. You told her that you didn’t’ know, that Kate had left you in the hotel room for your own safety. The biochemist seemed to believe you in earnest.

She squeezed your shoulder once before slipping out the back door. You made a point to flip the deadbolt the second she took a step onto the grass. Your mouth was incredibly dry again, eyes clenched shut in an attempt to unscramble your thoughts.

You were growing exhausted with the light B&E, climbing the stairs with a heavy disposition. You’d have to return to the office tomorrow to face Pepper with your bad decisions, maybe even Tony if he had caught wind of your unresolved issues with SHIELD.

You needed to wash the filmy hotel soap from your skin, the sweat that soaked into the fabric of your shirt during your conversation with Jemma. You flicked on the water, letting the room fill with a dense steam before stripping down to nothing but your bra and underwear. You drew in a dense, warm breath.

There was a cool touch against the bare skin of your back and a yelp escaped your lips. You turned quickly, using the back of your hand to slam blindly against the stranger. Your knuckles made contact with something hard and icy.

“Okay, I deserved that. Nice right hook, darling.”

Kate’s smooth voice settled into your veins, the steam from your running shower made her eyes look glassy, but they were filled with relief. You couldn’t’ say the same. Instead, you frowned and gave her a shove, the punch to the face not seeming like enough.

“What the hell, Kate! I thought you’d gotten yourself killed. Leaving a cryptic note like that and having me foot the bill for the motel? Dick move.” You shoved her again but took a step to keep the gap between the both of you minimal. “Don’t try to stop me. We’re a little too far for that, don’t you think?”

This time, when you moved to shove her again, her cool fingers wrapped around your wrist. She held your still with minimal effort, pulling your forward to slot against her body. Kate smelled like the earth, like blood and the cleanliness of detergent. She was taller than you, only by a few inches, but it was enough for your eyes to flick up.

The pads of her fingers moved down your bare spine, sending shivers across your body. Each time you thought you were done, each time you thought that the mess you had gotten into was slowly fizzing to an end, Kate would waltz in with her suave confidence, her frigid skin, her kind eyes that betrayed her true nature.

“I meant what I said,” She whispered to you, “I wanted to come sooner, I did, but something tells me Jemma left behind a few gifts. They can’t hear us over the water.”

“You do have a plan, then?”

“Not quite.” She sighed out, pressing her forehead against yours “But I needed to see you. Your lack of clothing is just an obvious bonus.”

She must have heard your heartbeat pick up, because Kate had a cocky smirk against her lips, tempered gray eyes clouding with lust. Despite the innate danger of simply being in her presence, you couldn’t deny your want for her.

Kate’s fingers ghosted your jawline “I can smell how much you want me, pet.”

You groaned at the words, blood blooming in a brilliant red against your cheeks. You hid your face in the crook of her neck out of embarrassment. It was infuriating, the power she had over you. But in this moment, you’d give everything up for her; your job, your home, your life if she asked.

If it were anyone else, her assuredness would infuriate you. But instead, her words, the edge of affection in her voice, made you tremble with need. Kate chuckled and the sound vibrated against your cheek.

“No reason to be shy,” Kate gently pulled back, guiding your eyes back to her.

She looked down at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You weren’t quite sure who closed the distance between you, and in that moment, you didn’t care. Her lips were soft, and tasted slightly of salt. Kate made a quiet noise, brushing her tongue against your bottom lip.

Her nails raked up the bare flesh of your thighs and you gasped into her mouth at the sensation, allowing her entrance, her tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth as her fingers ghosted your ribs, the sensation making your stomach flutter.

“Is this alright?” She pulled back, and you whimpered at the loss of contact, suddenly ashamed of the effect she had on you. Kate was smiling in a way that conveyed triumph. “I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Katie.”

There was a soreness to your body that lulled you into taking the elevator up to your floor the next day. Kate, had in fact, broken her promise four times and that was enough for you to consider cashing in on the vacation days you’d built up. If it weren’t for the bloodthirsty spies, or the less bloodthirsty vampire, debacle you would have done just that.

“Well, you have a bit of pep to your step this morning Miss Y/L/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stark”

One of the reasons you didn’t’ take the elevator was that Tony Stark took the elevator. You’d rather dash up flights of stairs and work up a sweat than suffer through a few minutes of small talk with your boss. Especially during current circumstances.

He was dressed casually, a T-shirt and jeans, telling you that he had spent most of his morning in the lab. A cup of coffee was in his hand, steaming and filling the small space with the thick scent.

Kate had littered your collarbone with dark purple blotches, and you had let her. Ther was something intoxicating about feeling her sharp teeth brush against your skin, never breaking it but marking you all the same. You tugged the lapel of your coat, covering whatever had slipped through your collar.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with your new friend, would it?” Tony asked.

You drew in a sharp breath and suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. You were between floors in the elevator, the world whistling by at your back. The city looked so small as you glided towards the main office where Pepper was located.

Tony turned quickly and hit the button for the elevator to halt to a startling stop. He spilled a few drops of coffee but didn’t’ flinch as the hot liquid dripped down his hand, instead he wiped it away and gave you a deep stare. Your back was already pressed against the cold glass.

“Relax, kid, I just want to talk.”

“A lot of people just want to talk lately, and frankly I’m getting sick of everyone cornering me like this.” You said, hands gripping the railing. “Stark, I’m claustrophobic.”

“This will only take a minute.”

“If you’re going to tell me to give up Kate, forget it. I’ve heard it before, a-lot. But from where I’m sitting, the only people that are a danger to me is you and your secret organization, with your spies and your tech and your-“

“Y/n, I agree with you.”

He’d cut you off with a simple sentence. Your heart was pounding and you were white-knuckling the railing. You narrowed your eyes at him, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. There was a level of trust here, sharing a small space with an Avenger. The cockiest, most impulsive one, but an Avenger all the same.

“What?”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and I’ve spent years trying to remedy them, protect the world from myself more than anything.” He frowned into his coffee, not looking you in the eye. “There are some people out there that without a doubt, don’t deserve a second chance. But neutralizing someone before they’ve gotten a first? That’s not how I run things.”

“You can call them off, then?” You asked.

“It doesn’t’ work like that. I work for them, not the other way around. I can make a few calls, but I can’t promise anything. I just…” He hesitated, chewing the inside of his lip “You’re like some weird, fucked up daughter to me, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Or undead, or whatever comes with what she is.”

You pried yourself from the railing and embraced him. He let out a startled breath but eventually relaxed into the hug, rubbing his hand against your back. “Alright kid, alright.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Vampire Kate Bishop #Vampire au #Kate Bishop x you #Kate Bishop x y/n #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction

71 notes · View notes

appleofthemoon · 1 year

Text

⸻ * ❪ ❀ ... CAT & MOUSE

premise. and just when jungwon thought it would be a boring night, another round of chase begins.

pairing. non-idol! yang jungwon x s/o! reader.

pantone. yandere.

word count. six hundred thirty four.

warning. overprotective yandere, possible allusion to drugging, the victim is addressed as a mouse, murder.

note for the reader. the depiction of the muse does not reflect upon their behavior in the real world. the muse’s actions are also not condoned by me, this is all purely a work of fiction.

extra note. i haven’t written dark fics in over a month now so please excuse how rubbish this is. i’m using @/dear-yandere’s prompts as my warm ups.

CURIOSITY WON'T KILL THE CAT.

jungwon knows because he's still alive, sitting by your side. and he's entertaining himself by watching the mouse drag herself across the floor, painting a messy, crimson trail as she does so. when she reaches the doorway, she manages to pull herself onto her knees and press one hand upon her wounded abdomen.

silly little thing, she believes she's going to escape. heaving herself upright proves to be a mistake after the pain surges through every nerve in her aching body. and in such agony, she couldn't bother suppressing her scream.

his lips twist into a frown. really, did she have to make so much noise? cleaning the dirty floor is already going to be a pain and a half, now—

you begin to stir, eyes almost fluttering open. that is, until jungwon's humming bleeds into your dream. combine his dulcet lullaby with his gentle caresses upon your skin, and you decide there's nothing wrong with staying under for a little longer. eventually, his fingers dance across your wrist until he feels your slow rhythm once more.

“that's it, baby.” he leans over and kisses your forehead. “sleep tight, i'll deal with our little annoyance.”

satisfied, the dyed noir cat carefully pushes his chair back and removes his dress shirt. as he had come to learn a few months ago, red doesn't let go of white so easily. oh well, at least he knows now. it'd be a shame if he had to destroy another article of clothing—especially when this was one you loved to ‘borrow’ from him.

he picks up his knife and leaves your bedroom, remembering to shut the door as he does so. don’t worry, he’ll clean up the mess later. now that he's sure you won't be disturbed, he's free to run around and look for the mouse.

by a stroke of luck, he finds her wobbling down another hallway. jungwon has to give it to her; she's lasted longer than the others. in fact, he's so impressed, he thinks about letting her go.

“where are you going? you can't run or hide~” he taunts her, the words chillingly echoing through the air.

she looks over her shoulder and sees him getting closer. fear is consuming her, yet she still pushes herself to make it down the hall. it doesn't matter if the pain increases tenfold, she picks up her pace.

by the time the mouse reaches the stairs, there's not much energy left in her. realizing this, she resigns herself to leaning against the wall, chest almost caving in on itself as she slurs, “i'm sorry.. please don't kill me..”

jungwon crouches down and innocently tilts his head to the side. “why not?”

“please.. please.. i won't tell anyone..”

“i see..”

“i.. i swear.. i'll do anything..”

“any~thing?”

“yesss..”

he seems to give it some thought. she really is fun to play with. it wouldn't be far off to say she's the best toy he's had in a while. perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to keep her a little longer..

he draws out a sigh. “but you came here to hurt my baby, don't think i forgot that.”

indeed, for some reason, her stupid mind conceived the idea that by doing so, the pain your rejection inflicted upon her will ebb.

so jungwon decides to test the theory for her. of course, he makes a few modifications before that.

“wh.. why-” is all she manages to choke out before her body falls slack, just like her heart's rhythm. without her hands weakly fighting to pull his knife away, he gives it a little extra twist.

the cat, now satisfied with the knowledge that his theory is correct, merely smiles and lifts his bloody hand to pat her head.

“because experimenting is fun.”

#yandere enhypen #yandere enha #yandere jungwon #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enha scenarios #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #jungwon x reader

166 notes · View notes

growup-thatbeautiful · 8 months

Text

Pleasure + Pain | Tangerine

Warnings: sexual content, blood, injuries, cursing

Tangerine masterlist

Word Count: 2.3k

You’ve been through hell. Even if he hadn’t been there to see you fight your way through men twice your size, taking your punches and leaving only ghosts in your wake, he would be able to tell from the way you move around your kitchen. There’s a tenderness in your movements, like you’re taking care to make your movements smooth and fluid.

The shirt you’re wearing has to be his; it falls halfway down your thighs, covering enough of your to appear modest. You both know modesty isn’t something you’re concerned about at this point (he’s bandaged you up enough times to see almost all of you), but it drives him insane to think of you going through your closet and picking something of his so blatantly. Your hair, speckled with dried blood both yours and other, falls loosely from the bun you put it in, locks escaping and framing the bruiseson your face perfectly. There’s a natural life to your cheeks from your recent job well done, and you’re itching around the kitchen, keeping your ink-coverd hands busy. Some part of him wonders if you’d ever be willing to get a tattoo with him. His brain helpfully supplies images of his name sprawled across your heart, there for all of your victims to see.

In his twisted mind, he’s come to accept you as some sort of angel, claiming your souls and floating through your own life beautifully, a glowing essence around you.

As he watches you move around and pour yourself and him a cup of tea, he revels in your presence.

It’s not something he lets himself do often. There’s the chance that you’ll can’t help his stare and figure out that it’s more than partnership behind his gaze.

Without asking him, you add a dash of honey to his tea and place the flowered mug on the counter. He knows you got it at some sort of market, but he had zoned out when you told him the story. Knowing you, he thinks, it��s stolen.

A girl after his own heart.

When you lean over the counter on the other side of him, the fresh cut across your brow leaks an angry drop of blood to trace a tear’s path down your face.

He sees the way you lean into it- the pain. He sees how you favor the leg that took a knife deep into its flesh. How you pick at your nails until they bleed and absentmindedly trace your scars, pressing on them to search for that dull ache.

He sees it and he has no idea why it makes him feel the way that he feels. Of course, he’s not the most emotionally available person most of the time, and he isn’t always aware of his feelings.

He doesn’t know why it makes him picture you underneath him, your head tossed back into creamy white pillows, tears leaking from your eyes as he asks you for more. He sees marks- ones he left- on your wrists and lining your hips, a checkerboard of him on your thighs.

You’re staring at him now. You’ve probably asked him something, and all he can think about is how pretty your lips look when you say his name.

“Tan?” you ask, your voice on the edge of soft and deceptive in its quietness. He’s seen you with blood dripping from your hands, but the only word he can think of right now is pure. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, love. It’s nothing,” he assures you. You keep looking at him skeptically, your eyes filled with doubt, a half-grin on your face.

You must find something in his gaze you don’t like, because you look down into your mug, your red-painted fingernail twirling the tea’s string in between your fingers.

He can’t stand the silence, so he says, “You did good today.” You deserve to know that, even if it’s from him.

“Tan,” you state, edge to your tone, a familiar blaze in your eyes, “What are you playing at?”

“I’m not,” he defends. “I’m just telling you that you properly dealt with those fucking pricks.”

“I always do.” You take a sip of your tea and settle yourself on top of the countertop, sliding to where you’re across from him. He leans forward in response, taking in the overwhelming scent of you that fills the minimum space left between you.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “How’s your leg?” It’s not because he’s worried that he asks; he’s seen you take worse. If he can remind you of the pain, he can keep you leaning into the comfortable atmosphere you’ve created.

It’s like you’ve forgotten about the pain until he brings it up. He sees the moment you remember, though, because animation fills your face. You look excited, like he’s brought up a wedding ring instead of the stab wound on your thigh.

“S’fine,” you whisper. You’re smart enough to recognize the trap he’s setting for you. You wouldn’t allow for him to run his hand along the bandages on your thigh if you didn’t want it.

You could kill him if you wanted. But you don’t; you let him press down against the growing red stain, a gasp lodged in your throat, your hand grasping the wrist that’s sliding across your neck.

It’s obscene, the way your eyes flutter shut when you lean into his touch, like this is normal. Like anything about this isn’t totally fucked.

“Tan,” you warn lowly, but it’s an empty threat and you both know it. There’s nothing to ruin here, no invisible line to cross. He always knew it would lead to this, and so did you.

He presses until blood drips down your leg, slow and beaded, the bandage angry and full. Every muscle in your body is tense- he can feel it underneath his hands that search and tease and discover. The scar on your shoulder, the burn on your ribs, the raised tissue of the newly etched tattoo along your spine. All of it, together, has you going boneless against him, your weight leaning against his broad shoulders, your head finding a place in the crook of his neck, your shaky breaths wet against the undone collar of his shirt.

He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the sounds you’re making, whining noises in the back of your throat, fucking unbearable for him to listen to and not address.

“What do you need, love?” He has so many ideas of what you could say. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Any of it he’s willing to give; he burns with the thought of giving any of it to you. “I swear to God, I’ll fucking give you whatever you ask for.”

When you don’t answer, he grabs your chin between two fingers tipped with blood and brings your face out from his neck.

Oh, he thinks. He never should have let you hide away. There’s heat in your face, making you look healthy and happy and fucked out of your mind. He’s barely even touched you and your lips are swollen from biting them to keep quiet and from leaving marks along his throat. He files it away for later to make sure he hears you at full volume- no embarrassment to keep him from getting to experience you. Your eyes, so bright and full of fight usually, are still bright, but there’s a shine of tears in them. Whether it’s from the pain or the pleasure, he doesn’t know, but either way he takes it in with satisfaction.

“Aren’t you fucking pretty?” he coos, more sincere than he means it to. All you can do is nod in response, your eyes glassy and your chest heaving. It occurs to him that you would agree with anything he said right now; it’s a dizzying thought, a grounding thought. “Can you answer me, love?” It comes out gentler than anything else he’s said tonight, and it must work because you manage to whisper a breathy “yes.” While a smile that’s probably too knifelike, he cups your face, reveling in the warmth of your skin.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks next. Your eyes go round and a frown finds its way to your face and, no, he can’t have that. With a kiss to your forehead, he smooths away the upset lines and hauls you closer to the edge of the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist easily. “I won’t stop unless you want me to, darling.” Fuck church bells- the relieved sigh that comes from your lips is all he wants to hear when he dies.

“Right, then,” he mutters against the shell of your ear. “As much as I fucking love to see you in my shirt, this-” he pulls on the buttons holding your shirt together “-is going to have to go.” You try to help him with the buttons, but your shaking hands make it hard, and he gets four undone before you get one. When the shirt falls open to reveal your flimsy, last-resort bra, he lets out a low groan and pushes the rest of the fabric off your shoulders and onto the floor. You wait expectentaly while he undoes the metal clasp, your bra joining the shirt in a pile on the floor. The cool air pebbles your nipples, a shiver running down your spine. He sees it and does what he can to fix it; his hands cup you gently at first, then roughly, kneading and pinching until your legs are vicelike around his waist, begging for friction between your legs. When he’s had his fill with his hands, his mouth comes next, careful kisses and bites scattering the valley of your breasts as he runs his hands anywhere he can find. You’re rocking with him, his curls caught tight in his grip as you push him forward and pull him back, trying to escape and chase more.

He didn’t expect it to be like this: you, following his lead, letting him take control for once. The fight in you, which he’s so used to, is gone, leaving you with puppy-dog eyes and red lips. It’s a heady thought to think he might be the only person you trust to see you like this.

You start pleading with him, and he’s only human. He would prefer for his first time to fuck you not to be up against a counter, but he doesn’t think he can wait until he carries you to your bedroom.You would probably have some protests, too.

He’s still a gentleman, though so he pulls away from you, despite your protests, to grab the clothes on the floor and shove them underneath your head as he splays you over the counter, your back hitting the cool marble.

The thin material of your underwear slides down your blood-crusted thighs, and he tosses it somewhere behind him before he runs his hands up your legs, inching closer and closer to your heat. You’re quiet now, like if you make a noise he’ll stop, which he wouldn’t dream of. Until you ask him to, he’s going to treat you right.

When he slides his first finger in, you take it like you’ve been waiting ages, ready for him. One quickly turns into two, which turns into three. He scissors you open, not going too fast but not taking his time with you anymore. Based on the increasing volume of your moans, you want it just as badly as he does. You’re taking him in greedily, your hands searching for purchase on the smooth countertop, your hips canting up to meet the curling of his fingers.

As soon as he deems you ready, he removes his fingers, licking them off with a hum while you whine unhappily underneath him. He quiets your complaints with a kiss while he searches for a condom in his back pocket, finding it and rolling it over his length before notching himself at your entrance. He takes a moment to look at you, the clarity in your eyes, the plead on your lips. It’s enough to take a good man to his knees, and he’s no good man.

His eyes meet yours and that’s all it takes for him to push his way in, a low, loud groan leaving escaping his throat when he feels the tight, slick heat of you take him. He knows he’s not going to last long with how pent up he’s been, but he can tell you aren’t either. The pace he sets is brutal and punishing, his hips snapping into yours, one hand gripping your hip and the other pressing circles on your clit. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut, noises bubbling from your throat as he fucks you harder, faster. His lips meet yours in a kiss when he feels you tightening around him, your cunt clenching down as your orgasm crashes into you, your body going tight, your back arching as you pull him in deeper. He follows you over the edge, his head buried in your hair, murmuring sweet nothings into your skin as you both come down from your highs.

“Fuck,” you laugh, a smile finding its way to your face as you card your hands through his hair. “That was-” “Yeah,” he agrees. “It was.” Standing up straight, he pulls you with him, leading you to the bathroom where you’ll clean each other up like you have so many times in every other way but this.

You leave a trail of blood on the floors when you walk with him, leaning against him for support, his hand on the small of your back. The fight in your eyes is back, and he’s expecting hell from you about the bruises covering your body tomorrow.

Maybe you’re not an angel, but he’s not convinced you aren’t some sort of avenginig devil, here to torture him with your smile and your laugh and your sex. He’ll follow you no matter what, though. Every part of you calls for him, and he’s more than willing to answer for anything you ask.

First he has to clean you up and get you to bed. You’ll be a devil again tomorrow; right now, you’re his.

#tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine x you #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x y/n #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic #tangerime fanfic #bullet train #atj

122 notes · View notes

watercolorfreckles · 1 year

Text

Of Oak and Sparrow

(Part 2 of The Girl Called Sparrow)

Sparrow returned to the fallen oak tree one final time.

To her, it was a skeleton. A creaking spine wrapped in an armor of bark that, in the end, wasn't strong enough to keep the true monsters at bay.

The sleeping hill was a graveyard beneath the weight of the tree that once crowned it.

Its branches reached toward the sky like bony fingers. The wind whispered through its foliage to pluck down the browning decay. Those same leaves crunched beneath the sole of her boot. She imagined her faerie's hair muting into an earthy brown to match it.

Sparrow traced the scars in the exposed wood. Each mark splitting the stump was an open wound. Its roots and its core were a bleeding heart, severed from the rest of its great height and graceful limbs.

In the tree rings, she saw his fingerprint. Her Kind Oak. The fae who'd held her heart in his hands and treated it with gentleness.

Her tears soaked into the wood's cracks and grooves, fingers tightening around the acorn that promised her a chance at a future.

The encroaching winter drained the life of the forest away. When Sparrow left her home, it felt as a hollow corpse.

She walked until her feet ached and her body swayed with exhaustion. She sank down against the cover of a mossy knoll, eyelids begging for rest. But it would be of poor manner not to acknowledge her hosts.

Sparrow picked three long strands of grass and weaved them into a ring, testing it on her own finger before sliding it off and tucking it into the knot of a tree.

She spoke aloud to any fae that might be near. Listening. Waiting. "I apologize for my intrusion. I am merely passing through, and am most grateful for your hospitality as I take a night's rest. I left you a gift in the hole of that tree. I hope you take no offense to my presence."

Shivering even beneath the thick wool of her cloak, she let her eyelids drop closed as the night swallowed her up.

Sparrow awoke to a pale sun and frost on her lashes. Her breath formed clouds in the morning chill. Scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, her hand slipped into her pocket, seeking the familiar comfort of her Oak's acorn.

Her heart lurched. She checked again. It wasn't there.

Straightening, she scrabbled through the crust of frost coating the ground around her, searching with a despair that made her dizzy. "No- Where--"

"Tell me, I am dreadfully curious, what is so valuable about this acorn?" spoke a voice like crushed velvet.

Sparrow jolted, swiveling around. Her breath caught.

Before her was a fae that glistened like a winter star. His eyes held the glint of cold steel. A knife's edge, harrowing and beautiful all at once. The gently falling snow avoided him in its path.

Pinched between his moon-pale fingers, was her acorn.

Sparrow's heart gave another awful tug.

She reached for it before she could stop herself. The acorn disappeared into the fae's fist as his lips lifted into a flash of pearly teeth. A little too sharp and a little too amused. Something about it reminded her of the maw of a hungry cat.

Sparrow swallowed. She dropped to her knees. "Forgive me. You startled me."

"Such a pretty gift," the faerie murmured. He lifted his other hand, the ring she'd offered up wrapped around his index finger. Surely he was mocking her. It looked terribly simple against the porcelain of his skin. "It is refreshing to meet a human who still knows the old ways. Are you going to answer my question or do I need to repeat myself?"

Sparrow's fingers twisted in her lap. Her blood ran cold. "I need that acorn to resurrect one who is dear to me."

The fae hummed, holding up the acorn again and glancing it over. "This is magik born of the fae wilds."

Her stare tracked his hand as if he were carelessly handling glass. "I have no knowledge of its origin. Only that the tree this acorn fell from was tethered to a fae who could not leave its shadow. The tree was cut down. I need to plant that acorn to give him renewed life."

The fae's smile was that of a predator toying with its prey because it found the creature's helplessness against it adorable. He crouched in front of her, nimbly balanced on the balls of his arched feet.

His head tilted. "Give me your name and I'll return your precious acorn to you."

"That, I cannot give you," Sparrow said softly. "My acorn is no use to me if I am too intoxicated by your sway to plant it."

"What difference does it make?" The fae's cadence was the crackling of a candle flame; the sparks that rain down from a shooting star. "Even if you plant the seed, years will pass before it grows tall enough to harbor your fae in its shadow; a great many years longer than if this were an ordinary acorn. Magik born of the faerie realm behaves as the fae wilds do. Time is of little consequence there. A moment is stretched for decades.

"Humans age in an instant. What will your dear one think of you when time creases your face and steals your youth? What will happen when you fall away to dust and your love is trapped alone in the confines of a shadow?"

It took the taste of metal in her mouth to realize she'd bitten down on her lip. Her insides swam.

Her mother's voice was clear in her head:

Do not make dealings with the fae.

Follow the rules of fae etiquette.

Do not owe anything to the fae. They will always collect.

But if he could magik a better way... If she could see her love again...

Sparrow forced the fear from her voice. Fae hated weakness, her mind screamed. "Will you make a deal with me?"

The faerie's wicked smile split further across his perfect face. "I was hoping you'd ask."

Look at meeee, i posted twice in a little over one week

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter, @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated, @thelazywitchphotographer, @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy, @thinkwrite5, @putridghost, @tobeornottobeateacher, @sunflower1000, @bouncyartist, @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen, @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted, @pensivespacepirate, @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42

, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles, @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles, @inkygemuwu, @wolfeyedwitch, @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo, @moonquires, @lem-hhn, @fanastywhump, @smallangryfish, @ladybookworm @freefallingup13, @acaiaforrest, @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict, @talkingsperm, @qualitychaoslover, @deckofaces,@7eselt, @annablogsposts, @lunatic-moss-studio, @medusas-hairband

#my writing #writeblr #fantasci tumblr #fantasci #fantasy drabble #fantasy romance #writers of tumblr #creative writing #fable #writing drabble #writing snippet #fairytale #fae #fae x human #fae folk #faeries #hero x villain

124 notes · View notes

taydaq · 9 months

Text

I will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart . tagging: @romoxsquad, @sickfxckmox, @catboymansion, @jackforshort, @imabillyami, @thewarlordsworld, and @amaranthar. (please let me know if you do or do not want to be tagged in these!)

#wwe ships #romox #ambreigns #dean ambrose x roman reigns #jon moxley x roman reigns #my art #song lyric is from number 1 crush by garbage #I just want this two to go after each other in a bloody heap #tw: blood

46 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 27 days

Text

At first, Rakha thinks it is just another night in camp recovering from combat. Her chest hurts, her head aches, but it's all melded in with the pain of bruises and burns and cuts from the goblin battle.

She chugs a potion; the injuries, as they always do, begin to recede. But the pain in her chest, in her skull, in her hands... it remains. It grows, it throbs, it squirms under her skin. Even the dark urge in her mind seems to recede, cowed by the rising, feverish ache.

And that is how she knows something is truly wrong.

Narrator: The air is heavy. Moisture drips down your forehead. Pain shoots through your fingers.

Wipe the sweat from your brow.

Narrator: Your hands shake as they reach upward. Your forehead remains drenched, no matter how much you wipe.

She is no fool. She listened to everything Gale told her, each step in the process of ceremorphosis. Day one - fever. She can feel the heat burning through her, alternating with chills that shake her from head to foot. The worm trembles with eager anticipation in her temple.

Lae'zel moves like a shadow. Rakha doesn't know how long she's been watching, only that suddenly she is there, lurching out of the dimness with a blade in her hand. One of her hands closes on Rakha's collar, lifting her slightly and slamming her back against the training dummy behind her; the other presses the blade to her throat. The cool metal almost seems to sizzle against the heat of Rakha's feverish skin.

"Ch'k'l ghaik Vlaakith m'zath'ak!" Lae'zel snarls. The words are ragged and harsh - and breathless. Rakha realizes that the gith woman is also sheened with sweat, her thin pupils drawn to almost invisible slits. She too is trembling; the dagger blade shifts subtly against Rakha's throat.

For a long moment, neither moves. Then the fierce determination in Lae'zel's eyes weakens; a tinge of regret bleeds through. Her voice is softer than Rakha has ever heard it.

"Can you feel it crawling through you?" she murmurs. "Tendrils squirming in your chest, gripping your heart, piercing your belly? Your bones popping, your flesh swelling?"

Yes. Rakha feels every muscle in her body seem to squirm excitedly, called by Lae'zel's voice. Yes. I feel it. She feels a weak, impotent rage struggling against the pain, infuriated that this is not an attack that she can fight, not an enemy she can throttle into submission. There is nothing she can do at all.

"I can," Lae'zel goes on. Her tone is of despair, resignation. Failure. "I see it in you. I feel it in me. We are lost."

(A/N: I didn't mention this on the last go-round but I love her reading of these lines. She sounds so... sad, broken. This is the ultimate culmination of the sense of failure that has been building up since she was first captured, the greatest failure a gith can experience. And she's so young. So young, and scared, and trying so fucking hard to do the right thing as she understands it. I want to give Lae'zel a hug so bad. I have a lot of feelings about her lately.)

She clenches her fingers around the hilt of the knife. The blade stills, resolute, under Rakha's jaw. "I will be quick with my blade," she says grimly. "First you. Then the others. Then myself."

Narrator: Your minds intertwine. You sense a touch of uncertainty. A touch of disgust.

Rakha does not want to die. But she fully expects to feel the blade bite into her neck; she lacks the strength to fight it. Perhaps it is fitting, after her rampage of the last few days, that it should end in a waterfall of blood from her own throat.

But the cut does not come. Lae'zel hesitates; the blade twists, scoring a light mark that does not break the skin. From the very beginning, everything Lae'zel has done has made the hardest, practical sense. Everything except her hesitation now.

It is as if she wants Rakha to protest. To stop her.

Weakly, dizzily, Rakha presses the connection. What is going through your head?

[ILLITHID][WISDOM] Explore Lae'zel's mind.

(A/N: We get advantage on this DC2 check; the reason is just marked "Illithid." I assume this is because we've already used the worm previously?)

Narrator: Lae'zel's fear grips you. Not fear of death, but fear of insignificance. The great warrior Lae'zel, a failure to her kind. She will wield no silver sword, ride no red dragon, forever unknown to the great lich queen Vlaakith.

Rakha's jaw sets with a sudden surge of determination. Many of the images are unfamiliar - alien even for her, gith imagery that does not resonate. But she understands the deeper meaning.

She does not want to die here - and neither does Lae'zel. They are the same in this, an unwillingness to be beaten and mocked by this thing that wishes to take them apart. They can fight this. They can beat it. They can tear apart the thing that did this to them.

She will not surrender to death here. And she will not let Lae'zel do so either.

"Be strong," she says hoarsely. "You will survive this. You will please your queen."

Lae'zel flinches. Her eyes squeeze shut. The blade shifts, then drops from Rakha's neck. Her other hand releases Rakha's collar and she steps back.

"I will not let the ghaik take me," she mutters, more to herself than to Rakha. Her shoulders are squared with desperate determination. "I will earn Vlaakith's honor."

Rakha stands - slowly, painfully, absently rubbing her sweatsoaked palms against her trousers. She watches Lae'zel warily. The understanding is between them, unspoken. They are not giving up, not yet. They will tear apart everything that put them in this position. They will make them pay. They will make them bleed.

Lae'zel draws a heavy breath and lets it out. "I will wait," she says aloud, coming to the decision all at once. "But know this. I am watching. If the sickness does not pass come dawn... I will end us all."

Perhaps, Rakha thinks. If you decide to try... well. We will see.

She does not want to die. But the fever burns, regardless of her fury. And the worm in her head mocks her, inescapable, untouchable.

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #i really love lae'zel in this scene #i wonder what happens here if you ARE lae'zel origin #must try it sometime #gotta eat and then guardian \o/

8 notes · View notes

rhytons · 8 months

Text

Wrap my Teeth Around the World: a Delilah Briarwood and Silas Briarwood playlist

(5/? Critical Role playlists)

Paradise Circus - Massive Attack / Shahmaran – Sevdaliza / Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) – Hozier / Porno - Arcade Fire / NEW DORP. NEW YORK. - SBTRKT, Ezra Koenig / Wolf Like Me - TV On the Radio / Closer - Nine Inch Nails / #1 Crush (Nellee Hooper Mix) – Garbage / Your Lips Are Red - St. Vincent / Heretic Pride - The Mountain Goats

Lyrics under the cut.

Paradise Circus - Massive Attack

Love is like a sin, my love For the ones that feel it the most Look at her with her eyes like a flame She will love you like a fly will never love you again

Shahmaran – Sevdaliza

I'd die a million deaths, and you'd resurrect me I'd fall a billion times, but you wouldn't let me

Eat Your Young (Bekon's Choral Version) – Hozier

I'm starvin', darlin' Let me put my lips to somethin' Let me wrap my teeth around the world Start carvin', darlin' I wanna smell the dinner cookin' I wanna feel the edges start to burn

Porno - Arcade Fire

You can cry, I won’t go You can scream, I won’t go Every man that you know Would have run at the word go

NEW DORP. NEW YORK. - SBTRKT, Ezra Koenig

My girl's got a city to run Got the key to the kingdom where the money's from Never seen the color yellow never seen the sun

Wolf Like Me - TV On the Radio

Baby doll, I recognize You're a hideous thing inside If ever there were a lucky kind It's you, you, you, you

Closer - Nine Inch Nails

Through every forest, above the trees Within my stomach, scraped off my knees I drink the honey inside your hive You are the reason I stay alive

#1 Crush (Nellee Hooper Mix) – Garbage

I will burn for you feel pain for you I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart and tear it apart

Your Lips Are Red - St. Vincent

Your lips are red My face is red from reading your red lips My hands are red My hands are red from sealing your red lips

Heretic Pride - The Mountain Goats

Crowds grow denser by the second As we near the center of the town And they dig a trench right in the main square right there And they pick me up and throw me down And I start laughing like a child And I mark their faces one by one Transfiguration's gonna come for me at last And I will burn hotter than the sun

#Delilah Briarwood #Silas Briarwood #one sentence from Delilah last ep and it sent me into a whole situation again lmao #critical role #pl.cr #cr playlist #tlovm

15 notes · View notes

smiggles · 10 months

Note

I want to pierce your body over and over. Maybe I would start with your tongue, so I could watch you drool blood for the rest of the evening. You'd look so cute, tongue full of needles, panting hot breaths that catch when your tongue spasms and moves causing sharp throbbing pain. I want you to watch me while I patiently press the tip of my knife into your abdomen again and again, only digging it in enough that blood begins to flow from the wound and run over your skin in pretty rivulets before I move to a new spot. I want to see your stomach full of shallow leaking holes that I can press my fingers into, digging and twisting, watching you try not to cry out with your mouth full of needles and blood. I want to shush you, to keep digging my fingers into you and tearing at your flesh while I hush your cries. When I'm done there I'll move around behind you. I'll take a needle at the nape of your neck, pinching the skin so I can slide it just beneath and coming out the other side. I want to repeat this until I have a ladder work of needles, all down your neck, your back, your shoulders and arms. I imagine the more they build the more it will burn and pull and strain, your inflamed flesh pulled tight over the metal. I want to run my fingers over them, feel them under your skin in little ridges. I bet that would leave such pretty scars. Will you try to stay conscious for me while I embroider your thighs? I want to cover them in little threaded hearts that bleed and throb in time with your own heartbeat. I think it would be fun to let them heal with the thread still in your skin, so that I can tear them out later and run my tongue over all the little wounds. -⛓️🦋

I was going to draw something for this but i have the bone aching juice

Instead i want to share it with everyone

#smigglesask #butterflyask

17 notes · View notes

tarabyte3 · 1 year

Text

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 4/27 (2.5k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst

A/N: This chapter has some very sexy angst. Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "#1 Crush" by Garbage. Previous chapter links up above.

AO3 Link

Chapter 4 - I will burn for you, feel pain for you. I will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart

You behave. For almost a week. If not for your own sake, then for your table's. Because Threl's words really stuck with you and you find yourself regarding all of them with a new appreciation. You even say thank you to Edii a few times when he routinely passes you something. The first few times he looks bewildered, but then he starts giving you a nod of acknowledgement afterwards. He also starts looking up when people talk, like he's paying attention. It's easier to include him in conversation now, to look at him when you talk, even if he is still quiet and doesn't respond.

Your hand is also healing, your table falls into an easy routine, and Taybus has finally given up trying to irritate non-existent details out of you about a potential boyfriend. Though you notice him spying on you when he thinks you aren't looking, like you might slip up and reveal you're having a passionate love affair with someone. You pretend to be as boring as possible just to annoy him and are pleased when it works.

Yeah, pretend.

But you think getting in trouble is an inevitability at this point. Because you know opening your mouth certainly is. If there's one thing you can always count on, it's the unreliability of your brain to kick in before you open your mouth.

It happens when you're fighting with a part. The pin on the joint gets jammed, which happens pretty often, but this one is stiff and won't move, and you're getting irritated. As you're struggling to wedge it in, Kino appears at your side to watch.

"Twist it, sometimes that loosens it." He instructs.

"I know." You try twisting it again, and it's so close. You can feel it shifting, but it won't clear enough to slip the joint cylinder in.

Kino moves a little closer to look over your shoulder, and his presence is distracting. You're trying to focus on the task, but it's impossible to focus when he's right there. When you can feel him at your side. Along your shoulder. His breath on your neck.

"You have to twist from an angle—"

"I know what I'm doing!" You snap at him. He tenses beside you and Alis warily looks up at you from the other side of the joint.

You regret it immediately. You were just so overwhelmed.

"I'm sor—"

"Hall. Now." He steps to the side so you can pass, and you stand there perplexed for a moment because this is new. Why does he want you to go to the hallway to get yelled at? When you aren't moving fast enough, he barks out, "Now!" causing you to jump.

You give your table one last nervous look before scurrying towards said hallway. You notice Sorrek appears distressed and is speaking quickly to Threl, who in turn is shrugging and shaking his head. The rest watch you go with apprehension. Except Edii. Edii doesn't seem to care what's happening. If only you could be more like Edii.

You can hear Kino behind you. The hard, angry fall of his bare feet on the hall floor and the swoosh of his uniform as he moves. You can also feel his eyes sweeping across your back like a physical caress, and your neck both tingles and bristles. You stop halfway down the hall, but he simply points to the large alcove that holds the bathrooms and extra water tubes for breaks instead. You take a steady breath to prepare yourself and then reluctantly step into it. Around the corner, you can no longer see out into the open floor. Which means no one can see you. There's a pit of dread in your stomach.

"Kino, what am I—"

Before you can finish your sentence, he seizes you by the jaw. His fingers are like a vice on either side of your face and they dig into your cheeks, just on the threshold of pain. You don't have the time or mental capacity to react because he's glaring at you, and it's the most enraged you've ever seen him. Then he slowly draws you closer while your heart rate skyrockets, and it's mortifying to know he can probably feel it.

"What did I say about talking back to me?" His words curl dangerously around your face. Not just his breath, but his warmth as well. And to your horror, your body is responding with enthusiasm. Your lips part, your eyes become lidded with arousal, your back arches just enough that your breasts lightly brush his chest, and a nearly inaudible whine escapes your throat. He quite literally has you in the palm of his hand, completely at the mercy of his touch.

You're already panting and squirming when you respond, "To never do it again."

"That's right." His gruff voice is low, almost a purr. "You didn't listen, did you?"

"No," you whimper. "I'm sorry."

"Are you going to behave?" In his proximity, his nose brushes against yours and you desperately need him to do something. Scream, choke, push, kiss, something because your body is on fire and you burn. You need.

But it's Kino, you tell yourself. The man that hates you. That man that has embarrassed you and yelled at you. How could you want Kino Loy? But your traitorous body and mind won't listen because it's Kino. The man that leaves you undone and bewildered with a single touch. And with his hand on your jaw, you finally realize what has been burrowing and growing inside of you for some time now: you want him.

"Yes, Kino." It comes out as a sob and a plea. You squeeze your thighs together, seeking any pressure to bring relief to the wetness between your legs. Then you silently pray to any God listening that it looks as though you're just ashamed at being in trouble again and he has no idea you're so fucking aroused by what he's doing. By him. You can't imagine how disgusted he would be if he knew. How angry.

"Good." He murmurs against your mouth. If you flicked your tongue out to lick your lips, you know you'd graze his lips as well, and the thought has you feeling horrified and even more turned on.

You're also furious.

You were content to go on working and getting yelled at, oblivious to and irritated by this man. Now that glass is completely shattered. You'll never be able to go back to your life before or be unaware of him again. You'll never be able to look at him and not think about his hand gripping your face or him pressing you against the wall in anger. You'll never not want him, and now you have to fucking suffer alone and in silence. It's bad enough that you're forced into labor in prison, but you have to add yearning for someone that hates you on top of that? It's not fucking fair.

Then you think about all of your interactions and everything he's said to you, and it occurs to you why he's doing this: He knows. He knows he knows he knows he knows—and he's doing this on purpose to punish you. Because he hates you. He doesn't want you back, he's trying to break you.

This is hell.

"Can I go now?" Your voice cracks in anguish, but you can't bring yourself to care. This has been humiliating and you just want to cry. But not in front of him.

He releases you immediately, and you stumble for balance because you aren't expecting him to just let you go. You quickly take a step back, groping for the wall, trying to put distance between you like a scared animal. You can't handle being close to him anymore. He watches you impassively, like this meant less than nothing to him, and that hurts even more. With a sniffle, you draw yourself up with as much dignity as you can muster.

"I'll be quiet. I'm sorry." Then you turn around and walk back up the hall without waiting for a response, all while fighting the urge to run.

When you head back onto the floor, you know your face is red, your shoulders have hunched with every step like you're trying to make yourself as small as possible, and there are tears in your eyes because it's becoming harder to fight them off. Especially as everyone watches you walk by. You also know they'll think you just got your ass chewed so hard that you cried, so they won't even bother to consider the truth of what just happened. Of how fractured you truly are.

Your table looks at you with sympathy and apprehension when you step into your spot, but you don't meet their eyes. You can't. It'll be too much. You expect Threl or Sorrek to speak first, but it's Edii that puts his hand on your shoulder, which is a surprise to everyone.

"You are okay?" You turn to him in shock. He still doesn't look particularly concerned, but you just know that's what this is. Edii does like you. And apparently it's also the last straw because your face breaks and the tears finally fall with a choked cry.

"No," you sob. You pick up the wrench and wipe your nose on your sleeve. "Let's just get back to work."

Edii gives you an awkward arm rub like the one he's seen Sorrek do many times before to comfort someone, and the gesture is oddly calming. You finally get the nerve to glance around at everyone else, and it's about what you expected. Taybus looks uncomfortable, Alis and Jevid look worried, Threl looks more worried, and Sorrek's eyes are watery. They're all still staring at you. Edii is the only one back to tightening a bolt.

"Please. Can we please just work?" You beg them quietly.

One by one, they return to what they're doing, albeit reluctantly. You assume Kino has come back into the room at some point, but you refuse to look up or glance around. So you keep your head down the rest of the shift and continue fighting tears of humiliation for the next several hours.

After your shift, Threl gets in line behind you at the very back. You'd been trying to hide behind Edii, who is usually last since table 7 is at the end, to make yourself as unassuming as possible. Apparently it hadn't worked. You do your best to ignore him because you know what's about to happen, and you'd rather not.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks softly.

"No," you say without turning around.

"Please tell me you'll at least be okay."

You whip around to look up into his face, and give him a vacant stare. "No."

"Damn." His warm face falls from concerned to somber. "What happened?"

"He really hates me, Threl," is all you can say because you don't know how to explain what happened. How you liked it and how it broke your heart at the same time.

His brows knit together in confusion. "No he doesn't."

"Yes he does." Your voice breaks slightly and you press your lips together to keep from crying again. You know he wants to pull you into a hug, but he doesn't. You're not supposed to touch in line up.

"Listen, I don't know what went on between you today, but based on everything I've seen and every conversation I've had with him, I really don't think that's true."

You open your mouth to protest, but you can see Kino coming in from the work floor after closing the shift, and you quickly avert your eyes to the ground. Threl turns to look and you can tell he's gesturing and trying to be subtle about it. You can't imagine the exchange of glances that happens between the two of them, or what silent conversation they have just beyond your awareness, but neither man says anything and Kino doesn't stop.

Once he's passed, you look up at Threl with fresh tears. "He hates me." Your voice is so small and you feel so vulnerable and you hate it. You hate it, but you can't help it because you trust this man to be kind and you're so broken right now. "Why does he hate me?"

Threl must see something on your face or hear what it is you're actually saying because his jaw drops and his eyes widen in understanding. "Oh." He breaks the rules and puts a hand on your shoulder. "He's why you asked about…"

You nod, finally ready to admit it to yourself. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not an idiot." He looks around and lowers his voice. "Maybe you have a weird way of becoming attracted to someone, but you're not an idiot. And I know that man, trust me, he doesn't hate you. He's…" He trails off helplessly because he doesn't know what else to say.

You don't say anything more because Threl didn't see. Not like you did. He doesn't have the context. And you wonder if he might change his mind on the idiot thing if he did.

For the next week, you barely speak or smile. You work, you shower, you push your food around on your plate, and you curl up in your cot with your back to your cell opening.

Sometimes you can feel Sorrek watching you. You can sense how much he wants to do something to help other than give you a hug when no one's looking and tell you that you can talk to him. Which you appreciate, but you don't think he'll understand this. At least not without combusting from embarrassment. Besides, who wants to talk to their surrogate dad about how badly they still want to fuck their boss, even though he hates them? Instead, you want to turn and comfort him. To tell him you'll be okay, but you also don't want to lie to him because you're fucking miserable.

You've avoided Kino as much as you possibly can, which is not easy to do in such a small space. At least keeping your mouth shut hasn't given him any reason to interact with you. Right now you're really hoping that with time and distance, you'll finally forget what it feels like to have his hand on your jaw or have his nose brush gently against yours. To know how easy it would have been to tilt your head and capture his mouth. The thought fills you with arousal and humiliation, and you aren't positive the humiliation doesn't also fill you with arousal.

And you hate yourself for it. You want to hate him, too, for making you feel this way. For treating you like shit just to get you to do what he wants. To punish you. But you can't, and how pathetic is that? Instead you just stroke your jaw and weep quietly into the evening.

[A/N: For this chapter I was inspired by these two pictures. Because my bisexual ass saw the opportunity to combine my massive crushes on Gwendoline Christie and Andy Serkis and I took it. And I regret nothing!]

NEXT CHAPTER->

#andor fanfic #andor #kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #fanfiction #i want you to show me weak fic

29 notes · View notes

bl00dyard · 1 month

Note

I have before and he's said I have to share him with who holds his heart dear..... He's said I have to come second...... and what sickens me is that I'm truly okay with it as long as I have his attention and love...... I don't understand why I can't move on but there's something about him that keeps pulling me in farther and farther and it aggrivates me. I don't want to feel this way. I don't want to like him but I just cannot stop myself with this. Why am I okay with this when I know I shouldn't be?? It's so stupid stupid stupid. I've tried my best to make it known but I've been on anon and showed him my firey little heart emoji and even commented it one his post where my account is able to be seen...... I hope he knows it's truly I who's been sending him sweet and also vile anons. The vile anons is because he is comfortable with such, if he didn't like it I wouldn't be.... He's stated today he doesn't want someone to like him because he's not a good person, he's bad.... but I can't help but be burned and attracted to him. I liked him just by his account at first, then the more time I spent the more I fell deeper into his grasp. He's poisoning me. He wants people that are sick like him to get help but I don't want it...... as bad as it sounds-

I think I may give him more time to make sure for sure he knows of my feelings..... I'm trying hard not to succumb to the pain and hurt and feelings but it's been so bad..... he effects my BPD and IED so bad..... and I'm trying to control it as I don't want him to leave me. Thank you so much for listening to me....... I honestly didn't know where else to go with these pains.

— ❤️‍🔥

once again , shall we head down ,, ?

permission to say something that’ll potentially ache ,, ? he knows. with this being said, i definitely recommend, even with all the pain within what’ll come next, let him go. for your sake, and for your own heart ,, you are too valuable to let someone twist a knife in your heart and watch it bleed ,, knowing how you are feeling and affecting you. he knows.

my dear ,, should you need me to be there for you during these hard times, i will allow you to reach out to me. i can share so many further details that might help you let go ,, because it isn’t an easy process, but it isn’t impossible. the heart never forgets, but it can surely let go one day ,, time will be by your side through this, even if it’s slow. be patient with yourself, and i know you had mentioned how he’s perfect and have told me your further sentiments about him ,, but please, trust me, he knows ,, and for this, he needs to go. you will thank yourself later when you breathe that fresh air you deserve, and get some proper rest ,, your heart is beautiful, treasure it.

a person whom truly loves you would not exhibit this behavior and take it far as to trigger you, and i want you to remind yourself why you had to let go whenever you think of him ,, until it doesn’t ache anymore. until you are truly in a state of ease ,, as for now ,, get some rest, okay ? don’t dwell on him further, and forgive yourself for the pain you went through. things will be so okay afterwards ,, trust me on this, okay ?

#. . . yard inbox. ･ﾟ✧#. . . ❤️‍🔥 anon. ･ﾟ✧

4 notes · View notes

suicidepark · 1 month

Text

i will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart and tear it apart

#for you

2 notes · View notes

j4y-lvr · 1 year

Text

[12:04 am]

sunghoon x gn!reader x jungwon

wc: 681

warnings: profanity, death, blood, attempts to kys, quite twisted

sunghoon was dead. you survived. you attempted to join him multiple times, leaving your roommate jungwon, who worked nightshifts at a mattress and pillow store, worried for your safety.

you never questioned why he worked night shifts at a mattress store through the night? he had gifted you a memory foam pillow and bidden you goodnight like any other time he left for his out-of-the-ordinary night shift.

you doze, reminiscing about your now dead boyfriend, and drift off to sleep. all while your memories seem too real. almost as if you were reliving your life. the sweet taste of the bread and jam sunghoon placed together and fed to you underneath the blazing heart.

the soft and fluffy moments you relived began worsening to the moment your hands gripped his neck and pressed his chest to the ground roughly as he hurried to push you off. you tied the boy up and got on top of him, a blade in hand, threatening to thrust it into his abdomen.

you fiddled with the instrument even though he pleaded with you to put it away, clasping both your hands in his, holding onto his life, quite literally before you shoved his hand away, shouting, "i know what i'm doing," you teased, the sudden shift in weight as he sat up straight sent you falling forward, slashing through his abdomen.

you did not know what you were doing and where this memory originated from when sunghoon died in an accident, where you were absent. you huff, springing up with a huff, beads of sweat clouding your forehead.

you get up for a drink to soothe your racing heart, calming down, convincing yourself it was just a nightmare. you resume your slumber on the same pillow jungwon gifted you, snuggling into it as the joyous memories with your dear boyfriend.

and it started again.

your hands poking the knife into his abdomen, his blood painting the scene, and his scream ringing in your ears. you panicked and discarded the blade, cupping his face with tears streaming down your face. strings of i'm sorry left your lips repeatedly, and sunghoon remained stagnant, breathing heavily, still attempting to push you off.

how had you got yourself in such a situation?

jungwon clamored through the doors and gave you a look of insanity, visibly scared of what he saw. sunghoon motioned to you, struggling to get you off him. jungwon rushed to the boy and pulled you off him, with no restraint from you as you sat shock-ridden.

you watched jungwon wrap the large wound you caused, gushing with crimson liquid while he hastily tried to stop the bleeding. "what the fuck are you doing, call an ambulance!" he shouted at you, and you froze.

sunghoon's breath shallowed and shut his eyes, drifting to eternal rest, dying in the boy's hands. his pale face left a last impression on you as you sat with a scream.

you turned to the now soaked pillow, the sweat dripping off you corroding the memory foam pillow jungwon handed you earlier that night. you rushed to him, who stood at the counter and murmured a few words to himself.

your disgruntled state, shaking him awake from the drowsiness he previously felt. you sprinted to him and wrapped your arms around him, absolutely shaken. the pillow, he gifted long forgotten.

"what happened?"

you explained your nightmare to him, panting with a squeak. tears fell, and he wiped them away, bringing you close to him as the aching in your heart subsided. "it's alright, go to sleep right here, i'll be with you, by your side,"

you worriedly laid on the mattress kept in the store and fell asleep, all while jungwon sat beside you, running a hand over your hair comfortingly with a twisted grin. he was the one who comforted you now.

you were his. he could manipulate your memories to his liking all with his memory foam pillow. you were wrapped around his finger now that sunghoon was out of the picture, just like he envisioned.

"glad you liked my present,"

idk what this is👩‍🦯

24 notes · View notes

a-walking-human-disaster · 2 months

Text

"Be Human"

Prompt Credit To @whump-in-the-closet! Amazing person. Prompt Post Used: Elf Whumpee

CW/TW: Possible Gore, Noncon Body Modifications, Imprisonment Also contains mentioned starvation, implied neglect of needs (like lack of water I guess), and past torture. There is also a description of throwing up.

Enjoy! - This is my first attempt to write whump, so sorry if it's bad.

Contains: Elf Whumpee & Human Whumper

❝You draw too much attention with those,❞ WHUMPER hissed as they stood outside the cell.

The cell door clicked open, and WHUMPER entered the cell, grabbing WHUMPEE by the wrist. WHUMPEE barely reacted to the action, limp as they were dragged out of the cell. They did not even have the energy to fight back even if they wanted. WHUMPEE's arm burned as it was pulled across the hard stone ground, with stray rocks stabbing them in the ribs.

Scars and bruises covered their body as a constant reminder of what happened in the past when they tried to fight back. Their deprived and starved form was not hard to move around due to the lack of weight. They let out a couple sounds of pain from their dry throat that ached with each soft sound that escaped their cut-up lips.

WHUMPEE was tossed forward into an empty room with nothing but a dirty floor. WHUMPER locked the door behind them, crouching down to WHUMPEE. They grabbed them by their hair, yanking their head onto their lap. WHUMPEE just whimpered silently as they watched WUMPER with wide eyes.

WHUMPER pulls out a jagged knife, pressing it against the base of WHUMPEE's right ear, "I've been meaning to remove these eyesores. You do not deserve any extra attention."

WHUMPEE feels their heart drop as they used some of the last strength they had to struggle. They did not want to even think of what WHUMPER had planned let alone feel it in action. WHUMPER clicked their tongue as they wrapped their free hand around WHUMPEE's neck, just enough to prevent movement.

The knife slowly was dragged upwards on the edge of WHUMPEE's ear, making them shake violently. WHUMPER grinned as they applied some pressure on the knife. It slowly started to break through the flesh, WHUMPEE shutting their eyes tightly. Tears started to burn in their eyes but they tried to blink them back. WHUMPEE did not want to give WHUMPER the satisfaction of seeing them cry.

WHUMPER starts to pull the knife back and forth through the flesh, using it as some sort of saw on their ear. The blood began to soak the side of WHUMPEE's head, dripping down the neck. WHUMPEE shifted and squirmed only to let out sounds of pain since WHUMPER would apply more pressure to the knife with every movement.

Once WHUMPER was done with the first ear, WHUMPEE's neck was stained with blood, and the top of their shirt had some red stains as well. WHUMPER pulled the remains left off, wiping the blood off their hand onto WHUMPEE's shirt.

"Stop fighting me, you're just making it harder for both of us," WHUMPER grumbled as they moved WHUMPEE to access the next ear. WHUMPEE was crying from the pain, on the verge of blacking out from the blood loss. As WHUMPER began on the next ear, WHUMPEE could feel their stomach twisting as their vision blurred. WHUMPER had barely broken through the outside of the ear with the knife when WHUMPEE passed out. from the pain and blood loss.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

WHUMPEE woke up in their cell, clothes, and neck still covered in their dry blood. They reached up to their ears, with some effort. Their ears were rounded, the flesh still bleeding out slightly and raw. Tears were already streaming down their cheeks as they processed the information.

Their stomach flipped as they curled up, hands grasping at their ears. The bile clawed up their throat, their mouth-watering. They tried to keep their mouth shut, refusing to let the bubbling liquid out of their mouth. But the feeling of fresh blood staining their fingers made them gag, and they lost the battle.

The bile slipped out their mouth, coating the ground in a clear white liquid. They hacked it up for a minute, leaving them curled up holding their stomach. Not only did their ears hurt but now their stomach ached. Their head was rested against the wall, smearing some blood on the crumbled stone wall.

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★

672 Words According To Google Docs. Thank you for reading! And thanks again to @whump-in-the-closet for letting people use their prompts!

#whump writing #whump #prisoner whumpee #elf whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #tw torture #cw noncon body modification #based off a prompt #i don't know how to tag still #thank @whump-in-the-closet for letting me write things based off your prompts!#imagine asking stuff as an anon since you are too nervous to have it attached to your blog - (couldn't be me)#writing gender neutral for the only characters present is hard when you dislike using the same thing to start a sentence-#sadistic whumper #let me know if I should add any other tags #cw throwing up

3 notes · View notes