warnings: knifeplay (infliction!!!), blood play (consumption), sadistic!hiori, suggestive, aged up (18+), hiori’s a sick motherfucker. ure sick. (please, please do not read if u struggle or get uncomfortable with self-harm or related topics!)
hiori thinks the sight of blood is pretty.
that beautiful crimson flowing, darkening as it clots the wound to scab. is it not?
you’re sprawled out on his bed, white sheets dangerously close to minor stains of red. hiori stills above you with his legs on either side of you, your legs spread, wrapping above and over his thighs. you’re on full display, and he’s free to do anything he wishes to you.
his gaze is fixated on you and your body, eyes blown wide with infatuation. his smile is sickening, sadism pouring out from the corners of his lips. it feels predatory—the way he looks at you like you’re pathetic. you barely notice the knife in his hands inching slowly towards your thighs again. you’re too distracted by how delirious he makes you, the beauty of his innocent face hiding his true sadistic nature.
“down, sugar. i wanna cut another,” his thick accent cuts through your delirium, almost startling you back to a normal headspace. “you’ll let me, yeah? let me make more cuts on ya pretty skin?”
he almost pities you for how instantaneous you nod your head, not fast, but your reaction speed to his question. just almost.
he cups the side of your jaw with his palm, thumb pressing softly against your lower lip. you don’t hesitate to open and envelop his thumb. your eagerness is soon shut down when he stills your tongue, swirling around, by pressing down. you inhale sharply with a shaky exhale, nervous.
hiori lightly drags the tip of the knife against your inner thigh, not enough to break skin. yet. he takes a minute to admire your beauty, skin blemished with hickeys and cuts—all from him. purple spots lay rest on your neck, chest, and thighs, capillaries broken from the suction of his kisses.
and his favorite part—the cuts. most are scabbed over already, slightly raised and bright red. they’re mostly random lines, little hearts here and there. there’s the word “pretty” shallowly carved just below your hip-bone. he’s still thinking of what to carve next when your voice breaks through, broken and soft.
“your name, yo… carve your name in my skin.”
your words go straight to his cock, straining against his sweats. hiori thinks that’s the best thing you could’ve ever suggested.
he doesn’t waste anymore time, blade already digging to carve the first stroke of his surname. “i got ya, sweetheart. gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”
your whines spill out as he carves the outline of his name on your inner thigh and he fucking loves it.
it’s sick, he knows. he knows he shouldn’t enjoy the way blood pools into a thin line following the trail of his knife. he knows he shouldn’t enjoy how the blood pools enough to spill out of the cut, droplets of crimson dripping down your thigh slowly. hiori cuts shallow enough that you give it no more than two weeks to completely heal, but he curses himself for wanting to go deeper. he wouldn’t hurt you that much without your permission, of course. but hiori can’t help but let his mind slip sometimes—into darker scenarios of you letting him hurt you further.
you suck on his thumb in attempt to stifle your whimpers from the stinging pain. and he’s looking at you with such a proud look on his face as he finishes the last syllable of his name.
“hiori yo”
engraved on your thigh in small, raised, red letters.
before it scabs, he places down the knife and runs his free thumb over his name. he smears the blood all across the area and his thumb, and then he curses himself internally at his next thought of action.
before you can even come down from the high of the pain, his thumb that was already in your mouth pulls away. but it isn’t long until you feel the other nudging slightly between your lips.
“mmmph—?”
he smears the blood on his thumb all over your bottom lip.
“open.” he commands firmly, and you’re all too compliant.
he presses his bloodied thumb against the heart of your tongue, and you start cleaning your own blood off. the act is so dirty and sick that you can’t help but let out little moans as you clean off his thumb, even after all the metallic taste is swallowed away. there’s something else in his eyes this time, shining with new sick and twisted things to do to you.
he tips your chin up as he lowers, leaning down to capture your tainted lips with his own. he can taste the sweet saltiness of your blood as he sucks at your bottom lip.
“you taste s’good, sugar. lemme taste you again, yeah? wanna hear those pretty lil squeals when i fuck and cut you at the same time.”
an: ive been going insane trying to find darkkk kinks fic of hiori and i was practically clawing at my walls. this boy’s already underrated as he is and i need more of the ULTRA in ultra-sadist
Anri came back home, frustrated from work. Work had been driving her up the wall, but she couldn't speak up, she had to contain her anger otherwise it would only lead to a worse situation. She missed you — so, so, so, much. It's why as soon as the door clicked behind her and she sees you standing in front of the door, she's already dragging you into the bedroom.
Normally, Anri is very good at keeping her composure, making sure she doesn't flip out, but currently, she's on the verge of tearing herself and the world apart, You don't question anything, letting her push you into the room with little to no complaints, because poor her.
"I'm sorry, but please, I need you. I've been thinking about you all day. It's been driving me insane." Her plea only encourages you to make her feel better. Without a single word other than 'okay', you're pulling up her skirt so it bunches at her waist, she holds it up with her hand, while your fingers find the edge of her underwear, tugging the elastic to the side so her pretty pussy comes into view. Your breath hitches at the sight, her slit flushed pink and drenched with slick, and before she could open her mouth to beg again, you're burying your face between her thighs.
Anri whimpers — whimpers — when your tongue slides up her folds and finds her clit. She keeps one hand on her skirt, still holding it up for you so it doesn't get in the way, while the other finds the back of your head, pinning you against her. "Oh, baby. You're so good... right there—"
You obey automatically, dragging your tongue upwards along her clit before moving it around it in slow circles. Anri melts, the back of her head hits the wall for a quick second as she's letting out a pornographic moan, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes, because of course she's crying, she's been missing you all day, and now that she's home, you're spoiling her without her having ask or do much at all.
Your hands move from your lap to her inner thighs, holding her open so you can lick at her cunt better, savouring every sweet-tangy taste of her. Your tongue moves from her clit to push past her entrance and twist back and forth inside of her, rubbing against her sweet spot. The pad of your thumb replaces your tongue finds your clit, pushing down on it and rubbing it side to side in quick circles that have Anri crying out.
"Please, please— please I need you. I'm close, honey. I'm right there, ke-keep going," Her voice cracks halfway through the sentence. She's desperate, fingers fumbling around the edge of her skirt, her hand pushes you harder against her — making it slightly difficult to breath, but you don't complain.
Your hand and tongue swap places, your fingers pushing inside of her, curling right against her velvety walls, and into her G-spot, while your tongue finds her clit again, the tip of the muscle flicking up and down it. And, for Anri, that's all it takes before her orgasm washes over her. She barely has the chance to warn you beforehand, poor woman stumbling over her words through trembling lips in an attempt to, but it was too late, her thighs squeeze around your head while she's choking on whimpers and sobs, trying her hardest to apologise as much as possible.
You don't listen to her, not like you could hear her anyway because her thighs are pressed against the sides of your head, blocking your train of hearing, so instead, you keep up your movements until her thighs ease up and she slumps against the wall, and when she does, that's when you decide to slip your fingers out of her with a lewd squelch.
Once she relaxes, she's opening her mouth to say sorry properly, but the apology dies in her throat as you pull away from her pussy, with her arousal on/around your mouth, and your lips upwards into a toothy grin, that's when she reconsiders not apologising.
author's note: the things i would do this woman would send feminism back one thousand years btw
i hate the way fat antagonists have their weight moralized and used as a metaphor for greed and corruption and i hate the way it's overcorrected into fat people being "soft squishy friend-shaped cupcakes who look like they give incredible hugs" and i long for the day we have nuanced, interesting, and complicated fat characters and most of all i long for the day people are normal about fatness