Bones And All
Nozomu Kirihara X GN! Reader (Use of They/Them prns!). || Pre-established relationship.
Warnings? Slow Damage itself is an 18+ media. This writing briefly mentions blood as the reader has Hematophagia. Beyond that, there's a mention of Near Death at one point. Certain parts of the writing are suggestive with the wording, but nothing explicit happens. Don't like it? Then don't read!
Another night, today, was just another night where his sorrows became drowned in the sensation of pain and agony caused by the people at his workplace. Really, it was only one of his coworkers who assumed Nozomu Kirihara was someone pathetic by the [Name] of Mizuno.
He had come to revel in the anguish, allowing it to sweep over him like a numbing tide, drowning out the echoes of his darker thoughts. It was as if the agony had woven itself into the fabric of his being, granting him a perverse sense of bliss as he surrendered fully to the suffering.
The day's indignities mingled with dark satisfaction in those moments, transforming his anguish into something he could almost control. The night was a sanctuary for him, a time to wallow in his bitterness and find a twisted form of peace amidst the chaos of his emotional turmoil.
Kirihara’s legs flared in pain with every step he took, but it didn’t matter to him. The only thing on his mind was getting to his partner's home to envelope them in a haphazard attempt at affection deemed ‘normal’ by the rest of society.
Would [Name] even be home? Were they in Shinkoumi tonight? Or were they perhaps over the water? Back on the mainland to handle whatever they had to do there. Kirihara didn’t know for sure, and their schedule was too erratic for him to keep track of when they were in Shinkoumi.
As Kirihara limped up the stairs to their apartment, each step sending jolts of pain through his battered legs, he couldn't help but smile wryly. The throbbing ache was a small price to pay for the twisted comfort it brought him.
He reached the door and fumbled with his key, hands shaking slightly from exhaustion and anticipation. Finally, he managed to unlock it and stepped inside the dimly lit room.
“[Name]?” Kirihara called out, his voice hoarse. “Are you here?” his voice carried through the apartment hall, raising his brow. Looking down at his feet…no, they were home, their shoes were thrown lazily on the mat, and they were somewhere in the apartment. “[Name]?” Kirihara called out again, removing his boots and placing them neatly beside [Name]'s.
His feet struck the weathered wooden floor with a rhythmic thump, echoing in the nearly silent space as he ventured deeper into the dimly lit apartment.
Shadows danced along the walls, creating fleeting shapes that seemed to mock his search. Peering into the sparse rooms, he scanned every corner with growing urgency, his heart pounding with a mixture of anxiety and hope.
Each vacant space he encountered only deepened his sense of dread. Where could [Name] possibly be hiding? They’d never go out this late; they knew better than to do that; even if they knew the streets well enough, they weren’t that moronic to attempt walking the streets alone this late.
As Nozomu approached [Name]'s bedroom, he noticed faint trickles of light from the crack in the door, allowing him to relax slightly. He pushed the door open and stared at [Name], who sat on their chair, knees pulled tightly against their chest, staring at the computer monitor in front of them.
Kirihara walked closer, staring at the wadded-up pieces of toilet paper, each stained with blood as [Name]'s fingers sat buried in their mouth, teeth sinking into the soft flesh, lips smeared that beautiful crimson as they gnawed at flesh. In front of them sat something that Kirihara presumed to be something related to schooling.
Honestly, this was just another day in [Name]'s apartment; Kirihara remembered when they first told him about their woes, the insatiable need and desire to consume blood, whether it be their own or that of someone else. [Name] didn’t care as long as they got to taste the iron-laced liquid.
A particular step creaked the floor in [Name]'s bedroom. [Name]'s eyes flickered to meet Kirihara's gaze, a manic glint dancing within their striking irises.
A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of their mouth, stark against their skin. They made no move to wipe it away, made no bother to remove their bleeding fingers from their mouth as they watched Kirihara.
With deliberate movements, they uncurled themselves from the chair with fluid grace, rising to their feet. The movement caused more blood to drip from their chins, splattering onto the already-stained carpet. [Name] paid it no mind, taking a step towards Kirihara.
“Is this what you did all day?” Kirihara questioned, looking at [Name], watching how their throat bobbed with every swallow of their blood. He knew the answer; no doubt they’d spent the hours when Kirihara was at work doing this, gnawing at their fingers, hands, and any flesh on their body they could access, chewing at it until it bled, then drinking up the remains.
[Name] slowly removed their fingers from their mouth, a string of saliva mixed with blood connecting their lips to their digits briefly before breaking.
They tilted their head toward Kirihara with an unsettling intensity. After a few moments, [Name]'s lips curled into a twisted smirk at Kirihara's question, revealing teeth stained pink with blood before [Name]’s mouth opened to speak.
“I missed you, that was all…” If it were any other situation, Kirihara would be enthralled to hear the words; anyone would be hearing that their partner missed them while they were away at work. But Kirihara and [Name] didn’t have a normal relationship.
No, after Kirihara mentioned that he accepted [Name]’s odd desire to consume blood, he’d become a walking blood bag for them. Too many times had he been beaten bloody just for them to drink up his blood and tears. It was just how the two of them showed love and adoration for one another, drowning in blood and agonizing pain.
“That was all? Do you really expect me to believe that was it?” Kirihara questioned, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared down [Name]. Kirihara knew better than to trust [Name]’s words. No matter how sickeningly sweet they spoke, something was always hidden just below the surface.
Like veins of gold concealed beneath countless layers of sediment, [Name]’s words often concealed a shadowy significance waiting to be uncovered. It was never a matter of intellect to grasp this; Kirihara, with his straightforward yet perceptive nature, understood that depth was beneath [Name]’s seemingly casual remarks.
[Name] shrugged, walking closer to Kirihara, placing one of his bloodied hands on Kirihara’s work shirt, staining the fabric rouge as they balled up the fabric, wrinkling the once pristine shirt.
[Name]'s eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as they watched the crimson stain spread across Kirihara's previously spotless shirt. Their grip tightened, twisting the fabric until it was bunched up tightly in their fist, pulling Kirihara closer.
“You're right, of course. There's always more to the story with me, right?” Their voice was a husky murmur, voice gravelly from lack of use. “What I missed most was how your body yields so beautifully under my touch, even after you beg me to stop.” [Name]'s other hand came up to caress Kirihara's cheek almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal hold on his shirt. “I yearned to paint canvases with your blood again. Tasting your anguish on my tongue as I push you to your limits and beyond.”
The words sent shivers up and down Kirihara’s aching spine. [Name]'s eyes flashed with predatory hunger as they drank in Kirihara's reaction, relishing every shudder and goosebumps rippled across their skin.
Slowly, deliberately, they licked a smear of blood from the corner of their mouth, the crimson glistening obscenely against the pale pink of their tongue.
Kirihara knew better than to deny [Name] the thing they so desperately craved from him; the fear of what [Name] could do in a rage wasn’t something he wanted to witness firsthand.
But then again, Kirihara craved this type of intimacy, the same kind of agony his brother put him through while they were growing up, that abuse-riddled love that he’d adapted to accept in his adult life now.
Pulling aside the fabric of his work clothes, revealing already bruised skin riddled with small scarring left behind by [Name]’s slightly sharpened teeth.
[Name]'s gaze raked hungrily over the revealed marred flesh, drinking in every discolored bruise and raised scar like a man starved.
They leaned in, dragging the flat of their tongue along a particularly vicious set of teeth marks, ones that led to intense bleeding at one point. Kirihara remembered the sensation of his consciousness fading while [Name] scrambled to patch up the wound. But feeling [Name]’s tongue against the old scars made him shudder.
Baring their teeth, strings of saliva snapped as their mouth parted, and low rumbles came from the back of [Name]’s throat as their breathing grew ragged, hands shaking as they gripped the thin, delicate fabric of Kirihara’s shirt.
[Name]'s breath came hot and heavy against Kirihara's neck as they inhaled deeply, savoring the musk of fear and arousal emanating from their lover's skin. Their grip on the shirt tightened, knuckles turning white as they fought the urge to simply tear the flimsy barrier away and ravage the vulnerable flesh beneath.
Teeth lingered closer to Kirihara’s shoulder, drips of spit slipping past their lips, cascading down Kirihara’s shoulder, staining his shirt. [Name] was like a wild animal, staring down its wounded prey. Kirihara’s scent intoxicated [Name] as if they could smell his blood beneath his skin.
It made their mind hazy as he lurched forward, sinking their teeth into his flesh, feeling it squish under the pressure of their jaws before popping, allowing the crimson elixir they so eagerly craved, drowning them in the slight sweetness they couldn’t get from their blood.
The first taste of blood on [Name]'s tongue sent a jolt of pure ecstasy racing through their veins, igniting every nerve ending with searing pleasure.
They groaned around the mouthful of flesh, the sound muffled but no less intense. Kirihara's blood was ambrosia, the nectar of the gods, and [Name] couldn't get enough.
They sucked hard, drawing more of the precious liquid into their mouth, letting it pool on their tongue before swallowing greedily. Until they pulled away, running their tongue desperately along the wound, lapping up whatever attempted to waterfall its way down Kirihara’s body.
[Name]'s eyes were glazed with bloodlust and unbridled desire as they drank their fill, Kirihara's essence fueling the inferno. When they finally released their bite, a string of bloody saliva connected their lips to the gaping wound. They took a moment to admire their handiwork - the perfect circle of torn flesh, already starting to bruise around the edges.
After admiring the work, [Name]’s head leaned into Kirihara’s chest, nuzzling against it, letting him lean and place his head into their delicate hair. Kirihara’s heart raced, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder from the new wound.
It’d been years since Kirihara felt this way, felt this type of adoration, not since his elder brother went missing. Now, Kirihara had the same love he received in his childhood from someone who cared so deeply about him.
If the price to keep this person in his life meant they had to consume Kirihara, he’d let them drink as much of his blood as they so craved and devour as much as they so pleased. They could eat every part of him if it meant they stayed in his life…They could consume him, Bones And All.