#the cliffhanger lowkey had me like. ?????? I NEED PART 2 RN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

betterfettered · 3 months

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Hihi! I just came across ur account and I’ve been binge reading it~ I love ur work sm!! If you’re taking requests rn can I request a part 2 of yandere blade kidnapping us where it gets to the point where we can’t stop thinking about him and we’re so desperate for him that we start asking people about his whereabouts and we finally find him and you can make up the rest~ The last one was just lowkey angsty and it’s such a cliffhanger! if you decide to write it I would love that smmmm!

Cya! - New Anon

bahaha newnon!! i'm really glad you liked my bladie trash. my brainrot and obsession is real, but these days its a little less feral. i had a hard time writing a part two because i didn't want anything too bad to happen to darling, but...well...blade is bad hahahaha i hope you enjoy it, even though its not smutty!

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere, please let me know if reader is gendered)(references to noncon)(violence against reader)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)

[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

These days you think often about the first day that Blade locked you away. After he’d assaulted you that first time, you only waited long enough that you were absolutely sure he was gone before you got up, hastily wrapping a sheet around yourself and trying not to think about the body fluids that made the threadbare fabric cling to your skin. You were thinking that if you got back to your room and took a really hot shower and got drunker than you’d ever been before, drunk enough that you would come back into your body and cry like crazy but still be able to feel the parts of you that felt ruined even though you could not feel them now, you would spend the next few days nursing the hangover and then go back to business as normal. Of course, you didn’t think that would be enough to pretend that it never happened, but it would be enough for you to get back to normal. You had a family to support. There was not time for “trauma”.

You couldn’t remember what happened between realizing the door was locked and him appearing again, only the terror of what had happened and what was happening and what was going to happen when he returned for you. There was the vague memory of thinking that you didn’t really have the body of a sex slave, that you had fat one could grab here and there and all over, so maybe he was planning to kill you when he returned. These days you wish he had.

At this point you know it had been three months he kept you, and then another month of recovering in the hospital. Your family had already received an elaborate explanation of where you had been and did not mind your absence because you had mysterious been granted a shockingly lavishly paid leave that partially paid out to them somehow. So now, you just needed to go back to work, maybe call a few friends to chat, maybe spend some of your new money on extraterrestrial deserts or luxury clothing. If only you went to a high end make up store, they could magic the emptiness out of your eyes.

And yet, you still thought of him endlessly.

Conversation with other people felt bounced off of your eardrums uselessly because they did not fixate on fear like you did. The little flashes of sleep you could grab here and there always woke you up screaming, curling up against your pillows and trembling and waiting for violence that existed only in your mind to end. And yet, in those moments of silence when you wondered about the gap between yourself and those around you, you knew that only he would understand. The sick mockery of affection that existed between you two was more comforting to remember than any touches of those around you, which always made you leave your body.

You decided to kill him, unaware how staggeringly naïve that idea was. It was the only thing that could bring your peace.

When you finally find him, he is sitting in a drawing room, his arms around his sword and his attention focused on the far end of the room from you. You close the door behind you as quietly as you can, knowing that you will be found quickly but hoping it will be after you had done this one thing. Watching his hair hanging behind him, this one thing; watching his shoulders square with a deep breath, this one thing; watching him tip his head all the way back so he could see you, his eyes cutting right through you so piercingly that you hands started to shake, struggling to clutch the knife you’d brought. This one thing.

“Do it,” he said.

“Wh-what?”

“If you came to kill me, then do it.”

You don’t respond and so he stands, casting a paralyzing fear over you all over again. You can barely feel your body as he plucks the blade from your grasp, grabbing you by the throat and walking you backwards until you’re held firmly against the wall by his body. You are shaking so badly that the only part of you that didn’t move were your eyes, which are pinned on his face and blurring with tears as he laughs.

“So then if you won’t kill me, is this what you came back for? To be fucked and beaten like trash?”

“I hate you,” you sob.

“Then slit my throat,” he says, the levity leaving his expression and being replace by cold nothing. “Take this knife and do it now.”

You can’t do it. He throws you to the ground, tossing the knife at you carelessly and strides out without even bothering to strip you as a threat. It won’t occur to you until later, when your panic and fury and despair and shame subside, that yet again he’d chosen to leave you alive.

#betty fetty

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