In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.
I know they ruined his tree by moving some of his really good stuff but this "tehe I do damage" build is fucking YUMMY
(put the 16 attributes into stam before adding unrelenting to avoid putting them into blood, or put them into blood if you want to, though it negates the point of running vial-ent on him imo)
a/n — fulllyyyyy a joke fic! wrote this a while back and I'm trying to go through drafts and post them regardless of quality lmao. inspired by twilight - im so serious
summary — Johnny wants to give you a bite mark, you make him bite an apple to see how it'll look.
words — 1.5k (short sorry!)
warnings — general mentions that you're dating a serial killer, pain-intolerant reader, blood, biting
~~~
There are about three different levels of commitment to have with your murderous boyfriend. Maybe three and a half. The first is pretty normal: moving in with him. The last half is letting him kill you, but that’s more of a one-sided thing. The third step is teaching you to murder—not kill. Killing is easy, murder is bereaving. You have to give something that you’ll never get back, so that’s why you were stuck squarely at the second step. Johnny’s teeth sunk into the flesh of a fresh apple. It was just one of a few that Nancy had picked up at the market, now sitting in a bowl in her kitchen with one missing. The two of you hadn’t even left the kitchen before your mind went to something fun to do with the fruit.
“Don’t go all the way!” You pestered, watching his jaw slowly become acute and his lips slowly cover the sacred notion of eating. Teeth scraping against the inside of the fruit emitted a crunching sound. You smacked him on the shoulder, “Johnny!”
Johnny mollified, granting the apple a reprieve as he let it free from his forceful jaw. The juice from the apple had dribbled down his chin and was smeared over the apple. He polished the bitten surface over his shirt, cleaning it of any of the saliva and juice before handing it to you. One hand took the apple, the other grabbed his chin, running a thumb over the thin trail running down it, feeling the prickly stubble. You ushered out a quick “thank you,” still facing him.
“This is what it’ll look like?” The two of you looked down to the apple cupped in your hands, all of his teeth were indented into it, showing how a bite from him would look on your skin. His teeth overlapped others—most noticeable of his two front teeth in the top row. The bottom row seemed to be a bit straighter overall, except for the one missing fang on the left side. That’s another thing about boyfriends like Johnny: he’s missing some things. Not perfect, not horrible, but just enough to be unique.
“C’mon, ya ready?” He asked with excitement, a certain gruff peaking out in it. A smile cracked and only his top row of teeth were visible. Between the little gaps in his teeth—where his incisors covered the missing gap—could you actually see it. One less—one significantly sharper tooth to worry about.
You couldn’t help but be hesitant. Johnny appeared complacent with his work on the apple, but it was deep. It was long, held for a minute. Any semblance of the five-second rule was gone with that. "There's so much bacteria."
His light expression faded and he sounded a bit more serious, almost unbelieving of what you said. You lived with his family—in his shack! ”You live in the same dump as me!”
That argument had little sustenance because even you had complained about the state of his living situation before. But you still lived in it, still tolerated it, for him.
"Will it look pretty?" That question was fleeting in its validity too, you had the answer right in front of you as to how it would look. Glancing back down to avoid his gaze, it did look pretty. A ring of reigns with one tooth breaking the imperfect circle. You couldn't ask if it would hurt because even if it didn't initially, Johnny would make it sting. Even knowing that fact couldn’t stop you from asking: “Will it hurt?”
“I’m just going till you get a scar.” He spoke calmly, reassuring you. “Yer mine, and I want to show it. I couldn’t imagine givin’ you one like mine on your body. They’re not somethin’ to be proud of. This’ll be better.”
You thought for a moment, trying to bide time before the inevitable pinch on one of your body parts finally came. “If this one is something to look forward to, can we go somewhere special to do it? A pretty field?”
“Darlin’, it don’t matter where we do it. It’ll follow you everywhere once we’re done, even when I’m gone.”
“Okay, we’ll do it here.” On his family’s property, in the confines of Nancy’s kitchen. She had gotten these apples earlier that day at a market and it felt like Johnny had rushed you into getting a tattoo.
But like a tattoo, the needle—in this case, his teeth—was at the ready while your confidence was not. Johnny bit over a million people already—mostly to leave them wounded, but you would be marked like ear-tagged cattle. Identified as his and only his.
His hands touched you like it, not even willing to let you go as he set you up on the counter. The action took the breath out of you, sweeping you from your feet to the countertop. Johnny ate it up, enjoying the littlest of noises you made. He could playfully bite you all day long just to hear the vulnerability in your voice.
Johnny pressed and squeezed into certain parts of you now that you were in easy reach for him. His mind went to places that you wish you could read, but he would probably say them anyway. “Mixing pain with pleasure?”
“Get your head out of the gutter!”
“I’m only thinkin’ about you from in there…” His head finds the space between the crook in your shoulder. The only place where he isn’t, his hands roaming other areas of your body almost like a distraction. The smell of fear, the way he could feel the chill his warm breath sent into you, every hungry drawl as he looked over your fresh skin sounding hungrier than the last until a snarl resonated. The barrier between him and your blood, so thin, so permeable. Just the hardened look in his eyes was enough to pierce through it.
His hands stopped roaming your body, zoning in as they moved up to push your head and shoulder farther from each other. Johnny’s lips peeled back, a bit sticky from the apple—something you wouldn’t feel until they were suctioned around your nimbly neck—bared his teeth and bit down on the side of your cape. The force was almost immediate, urging out a painful wince from you. His canines were the first to really dig in and sting you, making it even worse. Your eyes traveled down to the source of the pain, only the back of his head was visible, and you were tempted more than ever to reach for his dark hair and tug on it. He was probably strong enough to stop you from pushing him off, and you knew that he wouldn’t willingly break away from you without taking some skin and muscle with him. And if you did manage to push him off, the movement of his teeth would leave an even worse mark.
The pain didn’t last too long, though. Johnny was able to bite down fast enough to draw blood, but you wouldn’t have realized that. Not unless Johnny had pulled away. His lips stayed glued to you the entire time and that made the transition from biting to sucking and feeding on your blood a little easier, but all the more surprising. He was like your personal bandaid, complete with the care that comes with applying it too. His tongue, motioning over the wound like a damp cloth, and his saliva, the ironic antiseptic.
It took about fifteen minutes of painstakingly leaning against Nancy’s cabinets and sitting in Johnny’s embrace for the ooze to come to a trickle. Johnny pulled away, exaggerating his normally toothy grin to really show off the blood that gushed into his mouth and covered his teeth. “There, you look real nice.”
Proud of his work, Johnny let his mind move to the next thing—the unfinished apple. The apple was browning at his teeth marks, but welcomed Johnny’s bite with familiarity. As he bit into it, he made the flesh inside red with the front-facing side of his teeth. That was the man you were in love with: the type of guy to do something so intimate and then go back to normal like nothing happened moments later.
For the rest of the week, while it was healing, Johnny would find himself sinking his teeth into the same spot. The dried scarring made it appear as a challenge to keep breaking it open again. The teasing of the taste, knowing that little work was needed to taste the blood under the thin layer of skin. It wouldn’t go away any time soon—even before it healed and became a scar.
gracieabrams
dailybridgerton
areudirty
2087
