hands vs thighs vs hairy tummy = would cause an actual war and the destruction of friendships. we have to stay ignorant of this conversation unless we want to see the inside of pandora's box
(and assuming I stalked the right place) why's it look like it belongs in the backrooms though??? do you get to wear the creepy mascot costume 😍
SCREAMING RAE?? THANK YOU— they actually somewhat stopped doing the costume because of Covid/the person that wore it ended up leaving — when I asked about it, she said occasionally, but it's more of a...if you want to kinda deal? And it really kinda does, I promise the atmosphere is a lot different when you're in there though....unless it's empty ♡
not to be stalking the exact jobs you're looking at or anything 😍.... but um, didn't you mention owning a bike, it's within reasonable biking distance (though I may be underestimating how easy biking in america is)
Oh 😍 SCREAMING, I felt like you might have looked for some reason....I DO HAVE A BIKE BUT ITS GOT A FLAT TIRE AND I also think that I'd get lost very easily (maybe practicing where to go wouldn't kill)....and the whole dangerous to be biking in America honestly— having to cross at stop signs here with a bike is super stressful especially at intersections
I always see people headcanon Kanato as bipolar for his mood swings and I've seen many other people headcanon him with things like intermittent explosive disorder. I have yet to see anyone headcanon him with bpd and npd though, so here I am to do so.
Trigger Warning: This is a whump, so it'll prove to be rather disturbing. It includes blood, mention of body mutilation, self-harm, lack of oxygen, choking, knives, suggestiveness and vomit— I wrote this at 4 am on a whim of inspiration....please don't read this if you find any of this triggering because you will likely regret it. You were given a fair warning to read this at your own discretion.
Summary: After a session of self-harm in attempts to gain your attention, Cutthroat gets exactly what he wanted in the end.
"These..?" A pointer finger reached downward, beckoning for your vision to be directed away from his seemingly pensive face. To no avail would his attempts be able to prove anything though. There was only a slim chance you could stomach the sight of his mangled arm, dripping fresh red onto the tiled floor. Testing your weak digestive system now would surely only cause the burning in your throat to worsen or even find its way up to burning the insides of your mouth instead.
The smell that hit your nose had also been abysmal. Metallic, it almost smelled like a penny tasted, but you knew a penny was far less gruesome than the thick blood that was slowly starting to pool underneath him.
A distorted smirk tugged each corner of his thin lips. He'd waited long enough for you to speak anything on the matter he'd kindly presented you with and it nearly hurt his feelings that you'd been so keen to avoid eye contact with such wonderful lacerations.
"Come on...I know you wanna look...~"
He'd been taunting you, despite his natural ability to be so innocent sounding. Maybe that was only a lucky guess though, seeing as it would be difficult for just about everyone to pull the card with his real motive written on it.
You really did not want to take in this sight as your hand tightly clasped against your lips, eyes completely adverted. Your breathing was even stalled to prevent inhaling anymore of the sickening scent. With one step back to show your dismay, Cutthroat took one step forward.
"Why are you—"
"I don't wanna see it." Hot air pressed up against the skin of your palm. You might have been curt, but you were honest with your boundaries and only hope that he'd respect them could keep tears from falling right now.
Thoughtfully rewarding you with his bewildered look, Cutthroat would tilt an eyebrow at your unjustified reaction. "Boring..." He remarked, a sigh escaping into the still air. "Is my angel jealous..?"
As feelings may have it, you were exactly the opposite of jealous. In fact, you were so not jealous to the point of sheer repulsion. His mind really had wandered far enough into thinking such ridiculous things. Unusual? Not for him.
"No...no I'm not jealous, Cutthroat. If anything...I think I should take you to a specialist for this..."
He began to seem irritated, but it was something inevitable.
"Those cuts are nothing short of—"
"Hm~? Nothing short of...? Beautiful..-? Like a blooming rose, right~?" He chimed. "You want some too, I can read my angels face like a book..." Cutthroat paused, studying your face. "Hm... your face reads like a sad story right now though. You'll let me change that, won't you?"
You took a deep breath through the opening of your fingers, a mistake on your part that was realized too late when letting yourself exhale caused a gag to fight its way out of your tight throat. Was the smell of blood always this fever inducing? Still, you were barely able to battle the urge to be sick.
You took another step behind you and felt something hard bump against your lower back. The sink. If your memory served you any justice, then you'd know that the bathroom was where you two stood now.
He took a step forward to match yours like it was a dance. His sleeve still torn to bits and shreds, practically blended in with the disarray of terrible bloody and slit skin. Had he done this through his sleeve carelessly? Even so, Cutthroat still presented it to you proudly, like a child showing his mother an unpleasantly drawn portrait. A wish for him to retract it so at least you could look him in the eye was all you had. This wish that had yet to be granted.
His next step towards you was out of place, but you'd have no room to protest because you were startled by the feeling of something liquid touching your bare foot. Horror shook your body and you looked up feeling faint. With your heart pounding out of your chest, curiosity got the greater good of you and slowly your eyes adverted down.
The sight that filled you was grotesque and your last thought was just how much blood could one person leak before they became a corpse..? Cutthroat's bloodied arm had strived to cause the most distress your body could handle as now the blood had pooled far enough to reach the bottoms of your bare feet.
To say you could pass out was an underestimate of how awful you truly felt. No oxygen from having been adamant to hold your breath was not helping.
"You've gone pale...like an angels wings...~" Cutthroat whispered in what sounded like excitement. The added disturbing part about it was his voice being so hot against your neck. When had he gotten this close?
Unable to hold your own breath any longer, you let an exhale release again and as you did the relief became temporary. Someone's hand, just one hand, had your throat in a chokehold. Unfortunately, you let out a desperate gasp, attempting your best to breathe in. Luck was against you now and your hands fumbled to grab onto the sink digging into your backside.
Blood that did not belong to you soaked your once clean clothes. It was warm, like accidentally wetting your sleeve when you washed your face...except the feeling was spread throughout your torso.
You wanted to ask him what exactly he thought he was doing, but you knew the answer and it was simply what he was doing to you right now.
There was no time to think as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, your hand grappling at the porcelain sink behind you so hard you thought it might crack.
"I'm sorry, you kept moving away from me...this is really my only option..."
You knew well he was nowhere near sorry because if he was your body would not be aching so bad for air. You were already cornered against the sink, how much easier could he have asked for? Another moment and you really were on the brink of passing out, but... perhaps that's precisely what Cutthroat wanted.
The pressure on your neck subsided finally and you gasped so violently for air that the burning in your throat began to come back with vengeance. Lightheaded, but with just enough thought to where you should spew, you weakly turned around to be sick in the sink that hugged your body so close to Cutthroat's for a moment.
The sound of retching wasn't anything particularly new to him, he'd seen it plenty before when making kills...but never had he seen you so vulnerable. It caused him to smile, but with your face in the sink there was no way you could have known.
His focus was still on the sounds of you being sick, something he'd come to find rather delightful. Cutthroat didn't bother to back away from you much either and with his arm that wasn't yet so grossly mutilated, he tried to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. It wasn't in the least bit helpful, but he wasn't trying to be so.
Your panting filled the air as you finished and you were fortunate enough that the pungent smell hadn't resulted in another round of acid and bile to find its way up your sore throat.
Shivering like you were cold, but hot and lightheaded nonetheless, Cutthroat would prove to be a little gentle natured.
"Are you okay...?" He asked, as if the breathless chokes for air weren't enough to indicate to him that you weren't.
Shaky on your knees, you were ready to plummet to the ground into the pool of Cutthroat's still wet, red blood. Your body ached for relief and comfort that only laying down could provide. So, your body did just that— collapsed. Never answering his question wasn't a problem though and he seemed to be responsive to your body's needs by the way he caught and supported you with both arms.
"Ouchiee..." You heard him faintly like he was a background voice in your mind of whirling thoughts. It was almost humorous. Had he really caught you or was your deathbed so close that it felt like you were floating?
However, if it felt like you were drifting in and out of consciousness, it was nothing compared to the next scare Cutthroat had in mind for you.
"A knife?" You uttered out, feeling the constraints of your shirt somewhat release you.
Where were you? It couldn't still be the bathroom, could it be? There was something softer than a sink supporting you from underneath.
"Please...make it ...make it stop..." You pleaded with the new sensation, a cold and sharpened blade pressed down into your abdomen. Threatening to break skin with slight hesitancy.
"Already~? But we've just gotten to the good part.."
You felt the cool metal thin against your skin as your body moved up and down from the heavy breaths you took.
"Let me bandage your wounds instead..." You suggest, finding any excuse you could to escape the cruel hands of his.
"Hm? But... that's not as fun, I thought I'd help you get rid of jealousy... isn't this what you wanted ..?"
You weren't dumb, even if he seemed like a decent liar, there was absolutely no way you could believe he'd thought you were jealous of his wounds. No. He just wanted an excuse to play, didn't he?
"No...this... this is what you wanted.." Resentful, you retorted his rather crude suggestion.
He lifted his blade from your skin and it had been a surprise. He was showing you mercy at a time you'd expected none.
"Then it'll be anything my angel wishes~"
Liar.
Surgical tape ripping off the roll was rather a jarring sound it would seem. Licking your teeth, evidence of what happened earlier still remained and you grimaced at the distinct taste.
A feeling of anxiety welled up in your body as you suddenly remembered the absolute state of Cutthroat's tattered arm. You'd done anything not to see it before, but falling into his trap, you were now about to tend to it for him instead.
"Hand me your arm..." Your voice quivered. You'd wondered if Cutthroat could catch on to your uneasiness, or if he even cared for that matter.
His hum of pleasure felt comforting as he presented you with his arm, if one could call it that anymore. Your eyes skimmed him, just to brace yourself for the image you'd tried to keep away from. Just bandages weren't going to be enough to stop his arm from getting an infection and you wanted to insist that he see a doctor, a specialist, or anyone other than you who was qualified to deal with the injuries he'd caused himself. Your request would have fallen on deaf ears though, and knowing that alone was the reason you'd not suggested it again. Cutthroat simply did not care about his own well-being much at all.
Your weak stomach did a somersault when you were finally able to land your eyes on his proud work. It was marvelously his worst work yet. Unclean and messy, how could someone so slick and polished in his skills of murder be so unbearably not neat with themselves?
You leaned up, resulting in a pillow to fall at your side. Oh, so you were in a bed. Roughly sliding your way to the edge with Cutthroat standing mere inches away, you patted the bed beside you.
"Actually, I'll be able to reach you better if you sit."
Not a problem for Cutthroat, the space between your bodies closed and in seconds he might as well have been one with you. You tensed at first, but you kind of liked having him this close.
Unsure where to start, you winced for him. "You're okay with this hurting..?" You whispered, rolling the bit of hospital tape you'd already pulled back up. You needed to bring his shredded sleeve away from his wounds and just the thought of doing it made you uncomfortable.
"Why wouldn't I be? My angel is next to me."
His answer didn't surprise you.
"Okay..." You were very reluctant, but your hand reached out to gently grab his— the only thing on that arm that wasn't ripped nearly to the bone.
Your fingers were quick to meet that familiarly awful warm feeling and you'd notice that your fingernails were slowly becoming encased with red liquid. Delicately, you pulled at the edges of cloth until you realized something.
"Cutthroat.." You stopped, your eyes side glancing his eager features.
"Yes~? Go on, I'm waiting for you."
His joy bothered you.
"Isn't it easier if you take your shirt off and we try to get the sleeve off that way?"
His look back at you was thoughtful.
"You're right, you can unbutton it for me too-!" If he could clap, he would have, but his hand was still in yours.
You sighed. It wasn't what you felt like doing, but it was at least better than peeling the sleeve off like you'd been trying to do.
You let go of his hand and he instinctually waited for your next move, to stand up before him while he waited for you to unbutton his white shirt.
Your legs were still on the verge of giving out, but one by one, he'd watched you with a growing smile as you got to the last button.
"There, done."
He pouted. "Shouldn't you take it all the way off..?"
Was this not enough for him? Could he really not slide the rest off himself?
"You should have stood up then."
"You didn't tell me I should...~"
Cutthroat was again trying to tease you, but your frame was too fragile at the moment to even smile an inch back.
Taking a step behind you, you'd expected him to stand up so you could help. He did just that and a little more too.
"Get off of me..! I was just going to help you...!?"
"But this is better than helping me ...~"
Now your body lay pressed against the floor of your desolate seeming bedroom. You were too weak for this, too weak to fight against him as he pinned you to the ground underneath him. Surely his arm had to hurt, right? Why was his pain tolerance so frustratingly high?
The knife he'd used before this all started tumbled out of his inner pockets and directly onto your chest, scratching you enough to draw a trickle of blood in the process.
"Perfect..., so beautiful, isn't it...? I'm gonna make you more red... I'm really gonna see even more of it~ Your sweet, blooming red."
You fumbled to slide away underneath him, but there was no way he'd let that happen as his legs closed your waist in tightly as a response.
His hand teased you, sliding it up your stomach where your own disheveled clothes were in pieces too. It was nothing too suggestive, no. His intention was only to get a rise out of you. To make you as anxious as he could before grabbing the blade that fell across your chest from his pockets.
His good hand was able to be put to use it would appear as he dragged the blade from your delicate chest to the skin and tendons of your also fragile neck.
"Cutthroat." You call out, wincing under the blade in anticipation for it to finally end your miserable suffering.
"Shh.... you'll be so happy when I'm done.."
A whimper emitted from your throat, not your lips.
"Please, get off—"
What interrupted you was a kiss. His lips connected themselves with yours, it was unexpected, but strangely not unwelcomed by your standards. He knew what kissing was?
Both of your eyes still fluttered shut and at this point you'd completely submitted yourself to him. You'd be drenched in your own blood with little time between that and his kiss, but by now, you'd be at peace with that.
Trigger Warning: This is a whump, so it'll prove to be rather disturbing. It includes blood, mention of body mutilation, self-harm, lack of oxygen, choking, knives, suggestiveness and vomit— I wrote this at 4 am on a whim of inspiration....please don't read this if you find any of this triggering because you will likely regret it. You were given a fair warning to read this at your own discretion.
Summary: After a session of self-harm in attempts to gain your attention, Cutthroat gets exactly what he wanted in the end.
"These..?" A pointer finger reached downward, beckoning for your vision to be directed away from his seemingly pensive face. To no avail would his attempts be able to prove anything though. There was only a slim chance you could stomach the sight of his mangled arm, dripping fresh red onto the tiled floor. Testing your weak digestive system now would surely only cause the burning in your throat to worsen or even find its way up to burning the insides of your mouth instead.
The smell that hit your nose had also been abysmal. Metallic, it almost smelled like a penny tasted, but you knew a penny was far less gruesome than the thick blood that was slowly starting to pool underneath him.
A distorted smirk tugged each corner of his thin lips. He'd waited long enough for you to speak anything on the matter he'd kindly presented you with and it nearly hurt his feelings that you'd been so keen to avoid eye contact with such wonderful lacerations.
"Come on...I know you wanna look...~"
He'd been taunting you, despite his natural ability to be so innocent sounding. Maybe that was only a lucky guess though, seeing as it would be difficult for just about everyone to pull the card with his real motive written on it.
You really did not want to take in this sight as your hand tightly clasped against your lips, eyes completely adverted. Your breathing was even stalled to prevent inhaling anymore of the sickening scent. With one step back to show your dismay, Cutthroat took one step forward.
"Why are you—"
"I don't wanna see it." Hot air pressed up against the skin of your palm. You might have been curt, but you were honest with your boundaries and only hope that he'd respect them could keep tears from falling right now.
Thoughtfully rewarding you with his bewildered look, Cutthroat would tilt an eyebrow at your unjustified reaction. "Boring..." He remarked, a sigh escaping into the still air. "Is my angel jealous..?"
As feelings may have it, you were exactly the opposite of jealous. In fact, you were so not jealous to the point of sheer repulsion. His mind really had wandered far enough into thinking such ridiculous things. Unusual? Not for him.
"No...no I'm not jealous, Cutthroat. If anything...I think I should take you to a specialist for this..."
He began to seem irritated, but it was something inevitable.
"Those cuts are nothing short of—"
"Hm~? Nothing short of...? Beautiful..-? Like a blooming rose, right~?" He chimed. "You want some too, I can read my angels face like a book..." Cutthroat paused, studying your face. "Hm... your face reads like a sad story right now though. You'll let me change that, won't you?"
You took a deep breath through the opening of your fingers, a mistake on your part that was realized too late when letting yourself exhale caused a gag to fight its way out of your tight throat. Was the smell of blood always this fever inducing? Still, you were barely able to battle the urge to be sick.
You took another step behind you and felt something hard bump against your lower back. The sink. If your memory served you any justice, then you'd know that the bathroom was where you two stood now.
He took a step forward to match yours like it was a dance. His sleeve still torn to bits and shreds, practically blended in with the disarray of terrible bloody and slit skin. Had he done this through his sleeve carelessly? Even so, Cutthroat still presented it to you proudly, like a child showing his mother an unpleasantly drawn portrait. A wish for him to retract it so at least you could look him in the eye was all you had. This wish that had yet to be granted.
His next step towards you was out of place, but you'd have no room to protest because you were startled by the feeling of something liquid touching your bare foot. Horror shook your body and you looked up feeling faint. With your heart pounding out of your chest, curiosity got the greater good of you and slowly your eyes adverted down.
The sight that filled you was grotesque and your last thought was just how much blood could one person leak before they became a corpse..? Cutthroat's bloodied arm had strived to cause the most distress your body could handle as now the blood had pooled far enough to reach the bottoms of your bare feet.
To say you could pass out was an underestimate of how awful you truly felt. No oxygen from having been adamant to hold your breath was not helping.
"You've gone pale...like an angels wings...~" Cutthroat whispered in what sounded like excitement. The added disturbing part about it was his voice being so hot against your neck. When had he gotten this close?
Unable to hold your own breath any longer, you let an exhale release again and as you did the relief became temporary. Someone's hand, just one hand, had your throat in a chokehold. Unfortunately, you let out a desperate gasp, attempting your best to breathe in. Luck was against you now and your hands fumbled to grab onto the sink digging into your backside.
Blood that did not belong to you soaked your once clean clothes. It was warm, like accidentally wetting your sleeve when you washed your face...except the feeling was spread throughout your torso.
You wanted to ask him what exactly he thought he was doing, but you knew the answer and it was simply what he was doing to you right now.
There was no time to think as you felt tears stream down your cheeks, your hand grappling at the porcelain sink behind you so hard you thought it might crack.
"I'm sorry, you kept moving away from me...this is really my only option..."
You knew well he was nowhere near sorry because if he was your body would not be aching so bad for air. You were already cornered against the sink, how much easier could he have asked for? Another moment and you really were on the brink of passing out, but... perhaps that's precisely what Cutthroat wanted.
The pressure on your neck subsided finally and you gasped so violently for air that the burning in your throat began to come back with vengeance. Lightheaded, but with just enough thought to where you should spew, you weakly turned around to be sick in the sink that hugged your body so close to Cutthroat's for a moment.
The sound of retching wasn't anything particularly new to him, he'd seen it plenty before when making kills...but never had he seen you so vulnerable. It caused him to smile, but with your face in the sink there was no way you could have known.
His focus was still on the sounds of you being sick, something he'd come to find rather delightful. Cutthroat didn't bother to back away from you much either and with his arm that wasn't yet so grossly mutilated, he tried to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. It wasn't in the least bit helpful, but he wasn't trying to be so.
Your panting filled the air as you finished and you were fortunate enough that the pungent smell hadn't resulted in another round of acid and bile to find its way up your sore throat.
Shivering like you were cold, but hot and lightheaded nonetheless, Cutthroat would prove to be a little gentle natured.
"Are you okay...?" He asked, as if the breathless chokes for air weren't enough to indicate to him that you weren't.
Shaky on your knees, you were ready to plummet to the ground into the pool of Cutthroat's still wet, red blood. Your body ached for relief and comfort that only laying down could provide. So, your body did just that— collapsed. Never answering his question wasn't a problem though and he seemed to be responsive to your body's needs by the way he caught and supported you with both arms.
"Ouchiee..." You heard him faintly like he was a background voice in your mind of whirling thoughts. It was almost humorous. Had he really caught you or was your deathbed so close that it felt like you were floating?
However, if it felt like you were drifting in and out of consciousness, it was nothing compared to the next scare Cutthroat had in mind for you.
"A knife?" You uttered out, feeling the constraints of your shirt somewhat release you.
Where were you? It couldn't still be the bathroom, could it be? There was something softer than a sink supporting you from underneath.
"Please...make it ...make it stop..." You pleaded with the new sensation, a cold and sharpened blade pressed down into your abdomen. Threatening to break skin with slight hesitancy.
"Already~? But we've just gotten to the good part.."
You felt the cool metal thin against your skin as your body moved up and down from the heavy breaths you took.
"Let me bandage your wounds instead..." You suggest, finding any excuse you could to escape the cruel hands of his.
"Hm? But... that's not as fun, I thought I'd help you get rid of jealousy... isn't this what you wanted ..?"
You weren't dumb, even if he seemed like a decent liar, there was absolutely no way you could believe he'd thought you were jealous of his wounds. No. He just wanted an excuse to play, didn't he?
"No...this... this is what you wanted.." Resentful, you retorted his rather crude suggestion.
He lifted his blade from your skin and it had been a surprise. He was showing you mercy at a time you'd expected none.
"Then it'll be anything my angel wishes~"
Liar.
Surgical tape ripping off the roll was rather a jarring sound it would seem. Licking your teeth, evidence of what happened earlier still remained and you grimaced at the distinct taste.
A feeling of anxiety welled up in your body as you suddenly remembered the absolute state of Cutthroat's tattered arm. You'd done anything not to see it before, but falling into his trap, you were now about to tend to it for him instead.
"Hand me your arm..." Your voice quivered. You'd wondered if Cutthroat could catch on to your uneasiness, or if he even cared for that matter.
His hum of pleasure felt comforting as he presented you with his arm, if one could call it that anymore. Your eyes skimmed him, just to brace yourself for the image you'd tried to keep away from. Just bandages weren't going to be enough to stop his arm from getting an infection and you wanted to insist that he see a doctor, a specialist, or anyone other than you who was qualified to deal with the injuries he'd caused himself. Your request would have fallen on deaf ears though, and knowing that alone was the reason you'd not suggested it again. Cutthroat simply did not care about his own well-being much at all.
Your weak stomach did a somersault when you were finally able to land your eyes on his proud work. It was marvelously his worst work yet. Unclean and messy, how could someone so slick and polished in his skills of murder be so unbearably not neat with themselves?
You leaned up, resulting in a pillow to fall at your side. Oh, so you were in a bed. Roughly sliding your way to the edge with Cutthroat standing mere inches away, you patted the bed beside you.
"Actually, I'll be able to reach you better if you sit."
Not a problem for Cutthroat, the space between your bodies closed and in seconds he might as well have been one with you. You tensed at first, but you kind of liked having him this close.
Unsure where to start, you winced for him. "You're okay with this hurting..?" You whispered, rolling the bit of hospital tape you'd already pulled back up. You needed to bring his shredded sleeve away from his wounds and just the thought of doing it made you uncomfortable.
"Why wouldn't I be? My angel is next to me."
His answer didn't surprise you.
"Okay..." You were very reluctant, but your hand reached out to gently grab his— the only thing on that arm that wasn't ripped nearly to the bone.
Your fingers were quick to meet that familiarly awful warm feeling and you'd notice that your fingernails were slowly becoming encased with red liquid. Delicately, you pulled at the edges of cloth until you realized something.
"Cutthroat.." You stopped, your eyes side glancing his eager features.
"Yes~? Go on, I'm waiting for you."
His joy bothered you.
"Isn't it easier if you take your shirt off and we try to get the sleeve off that way?"
His look back at you was thoughtful.
"You're right, you can unbutton it for me too-!" If he could clap, he would have, but his hand was still in yours.
You sighed. It wasn't what you felt like doing, but it was at least better than peeling the sleeve off like you'd been trying to do.
You let go of his hand and he instinctually waited for your next move, to stand up before him while he waited for you to unbutton his white shirt.
Your legs were still on the verge of giving out, but one by one, he'd watched you with a growing smile as you got to the last button.
"There, done."
He pouted. "Shouldn't you take it all the way off..?"
Was this not enough for him? Could he really not slide the rest off himself?
"You should have stood up then."
"You didn't tell me I should...~"
Cutthroat was again trying to tease you, but your frame was too fragile at the moment to even smile an inch back.
Taking a step behind you, you'd expected him to stand up so you could help. He did just that and a little more too.
"Get off of me..! I was just going to help you...!?"
"But this is better than helping me ...~"
Now your body lay pressed against the floor of your desolate seeming bedroom. You were too weak for this, too weak to fight against him as he pinned you to the ground underneath him. Surely his arm had to hurt, right? Why was his pain tolerance so frustratingly high?
The knife he'd used before this all started tumbled out of his inner pockets and directly onto your chest, scratching you enough to draw a trickle of blood in the process.
"Perfect..., so beautiful, isn't it...? I'm gonna make you more red... I'm really gonna see even more of it~ Your sweet, blooming red."
You fumbled to slide away underneath him, but there was no way he'd let that happen as his legs closed your waist in tightly as a response.
His hand teased you, sliding it up your stomach where your own disheveled clothes were in pieces too. It was nothing too suggestive, no. His intention was only to get a rise out of you. To make you as anxious as he could before grabbing the blade that fell across your chest from his pockets.
His good hand was able to be put to use it would appear as he dragged the blade from your delicate chest to the skin and tendons of your also fragile neck.
"Cutthroat." You call out, wincing under the blade in anticipation for it to finally end your miserable suffering.
"Shh.... you'll be so happy when I'm done.."
A whimper emitted from your throat, not your lips.
"Please, get off—"
What interrupted you was a kiss. His lips connected themselves with yours, it was unexpected, but strangely not unwelcomed by your standards. He knew what kissing was?
Both of your eyes still fluttered shut and at this point you'd completely submitted yourself to him. You'd be drenched in your own blood with little time between that and his kiss, but by now, you'd be at peace with that.
I need to make an inspo board for growing out my hair cause the moment I see a gorgeous girl on tik tok with short hair while I'm trying to grow my hair out it's immediately over
I feel like there should be some sort of financial compensation for going through extreme psychological distress your entire childhood especially if it causes a disorder that is now stuck with you until you die
don't mind me replying to your insta stories via tumblr ask again but you know you can,,,, transfer images between phones??? unless maybe you like editing on your old phone more, in which case, go for it 😍
SCREAMING, SO ALL MY IMAGES HAVE ACTUALLY TRANSFERRED TO MY NEW PHONE, ITS AN ISSUE WITH THE SUPERIMPOSE APP ITSELF— I turn things into pngs within the app and save them within the app. wait it's probably easier to show a picture-
They pretty much call pngs "masks" in superimpose. Once I switched phones none of my "masks" within the app transfered. So I still do have the things I use to edit, I just have to turn them into pngs or "masks" all over again, which takes time if they're not already pngs when I download them
don't mind me replying to your insta stories via tumblr ask again but you know you can,,,, transfer images between phones??? unless maybe you like editing on your old phone more, in which case, go for it 😍
SCREAMING, SO ALL MY IMAGES HAVE ACTUALLY TRANSFERRED TO MY NEW PHONE, ITS AN ISSUE WITH THE SUPERIMPOSE APP ITSELF— I turn things into pngs within the app and save them within the app. wait it's probably easier to show a picture-
They pretty much call pngs "masks" in superimpose. Once I switched phones none of my "masks" within the app transfered. So I still do have the things I use to edit, I just have to turn them into pngs or "masks" all over again, which takes time if they're not already pngs when I download them
dailybridgerton
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
