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rosemaeridream · 6 days

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Blood Orange Bitch | (M)

Mature content (18+)

not-so-vanilla!aeri x killer!fem reader

warnings: knifeplay, blood, knives, maiming? or is it just injuring, dom!reader, bdsm elements - see: KNIFEPLAY. reader murders people off screen and terrorises aeri on it, established relationship, kink discovery, blood... eating... idk what else to warn y’all about… oh right THERE ARE KNIVES.

A/N: sorry this took so long, i’m not usually into knives. also sorry that i’m only capable of writing about aeri at the moment i promise to get onto my other girlies

word count: 2.4k

At first she just thinks it’s your muscles, y’know? You’re both gym rats, and it’s not like she’s switched gyms and started working out in the morning just to salivate over the contour of your biceps while you use the LAT machine or sneak glances at your thighs straining to hit your 18th rep during your last set on the leg press. Definitely not. And it’s definitely not like she loves it when you come home, sweat beading off your chest and dripping down over your sports bra. It just makes her kinda horny. Sue her for being attracted to her own girlfriend.

So she just thinks she’s into fitness. On herself and on other people too. Maybe she just wants to be manhandled by someone for once. Picked up and thrown on a bed or held down or something. She hadn’t figured out the specifics yet and she wasn’t about to tell you without making sure that that was what she wanted.

Then she sees you covered in blood. It puts a slight strain on your relationship. At first she thinks it’s your own, almost sprinting out of her room to go check up on you. But she hesitates. You’re not in pain, not screaming or crying. Just walking back into the house, wiping blood off your brow so it doesn’t drip into your eyes.

You make it to the hallway leading to the bedrooms before you make eye contact with her. Aeri’s eyes widen ever so much and her breathing picks up. She’s nervous. It’s obvious to you, of course. You have a sense for people when they’re frightened.

Except you’re wrong. Aeri’s trying to figure out something to say, but the throbbing of her clit is not helping her think. Not a bit.

And fuck. The metallic smell of blood tickling her nose and the hardening of your eyes sends tingles fizzing up the back of her spine and straight to her head.

You probably think she’s woozy at the sight of blood, maybe at the knowledge that you have someone else’s blood on you. But Aeri doesn’t think about it too long because her door is slammed shut before you can even open your mouth. She buries herself in her sheets so she can get the thought of your bloodied hands leaving stains across her stomach and thighs.

Aeri avoids you for a week after. It’s funny, because she’s sure you think it’s because she’s scared of you. Of what the blood means. Who’s blood is it? What did you do?

Definitely not because she’s scared of herself. Of what being horny over blood means. Of having dreams where you dance a knife across her skin, every breath of hers stilted so it doesn’t make an incision and then wake up with a dampness between her legs.

She’s curious at heart, so she puts her figurative detective hat on and starts to sift through article after article in the news. At first, she thinks she’s crazy. Maybe she was imagining the blood, the hardened look you sent her before she slammed the door closed. But then it all unfurls like a moth eaten blanket.

Aeri almost takes it to the police. It’s her duty, right? But then ever so slowly, she comes around to the idea.

It’s dumb, right? You’ve killed at least three people going by the connections in the smallest details. But it’s not like they were gold star, moral-to-a-fault people. She’s sure you weren’t overly cruel to them in death either. Maybe just a little maiming and scratching and trailing a sharpened blade across some squirming skin to cut long incisions in their chest and stomach, the coolness of the blade mixing with the heat of the pain. So Aeri pretends like it's normal. Like she’s not staring at the kitchen knives every time she passes by, imagining you holding it to her throat. Everything is normal. The relationship is normal, the sex is normal, she’s normal. Vanilla.

She forces it to be normal, until she’s naturally slotted back between your legs as you watch a movie. Or watching you cook in the kitchen while she scrolls through her phone.

Aeri’s seen you with knives before. Aeri’s seen your muscles before. She’s seen you use your muscles and knives to cook before. So why is the thought of the knife marking your initials into her thigh or her stomach or her chest the only thing on her mind? You’re talking away like it’s nothing and she’s trying so hard not to leave a wet spot on the kitchen stool she’s sitting on.

“Anyway, so he’s like ‘ahh you can’t fucking catch me, psycho!’, and then he falls into a pit. Great scene by the way, especially when…” She should be listening. Except that you’re naturally swinging the knife around as you talk, gesturing with it like you would a pen. And God, she can’t take her eyes off it.

You’re talking about some slasher flick you saw with your friend the other day, it’s ironic considering that she still hasn’t spoken to you about the whole blood-murderer-knife thing. And the other knife thing. Besides the point – the horror movie talk isn’t helping either.

Aeri keeps nodding and humming a yes whenever you pause, just to keep you talking. Until she hears nothing and you’re not on the other side of the bench anymore.

Fuck.

You press her to the counter, the blunt edge of the kitchen knife cold against her throat.

“You haven’t been listening to me at all, baby.” Your voice is as cold as the steel and you lean in close to her face, making sure that she’s all ears. Aeri shakes her head as much as she can with a knife to her throat, still not registering that you haven’t got the sharp side on her skin.

“Fear and arousal can be very, very similar. Don't cha think?”

Aeri stammers out some kind of answer that she doesn’t even process, her breathing accelerating along with her heartbeat. It’s too real and not real enough at the same time. The menacing narrow of your eyes taking their time to study every single detail of her face before dipping lower to focus on the pressure of the knife.

Just the tiniest amount of force is applied and Aeri slips, letting out a moan she can’t take back. She watches your lips quirk, the knowledge reaped from her expressions and noises letting you in on a secret she didn’t want you to know.

“Are you scared, Aeri?” Slowly, the blade is flipped, taunting her. The sharpened edge, one she watched you prepare with a whetstone, making sure it was fit to glide through any piece of meat possible, tickling the peach fuzz of her neck.

She doesn’t shake her head this time, knowing that even if she swallowed, there’d be a trail of blood to show. Aeri’s breath hitches as you start to apply equal pressure along the blade, until you move it to drag down her neck, much like a whetstone.

You haven’t nicked her skin yet and Aeri knows you’re doing it on purpose. She’s being treated like a trophy kill, played with like a cat leaving a dead rat at the door and the only thing her brain is telling her, is that she wouldn’t mind being mounted against a wall by you.

The knife trails lower, stopping at the collar of her top, drawing out whimpers and half-hushed gasps. Then you roughly gather the cotton in your hands, holding it taught so you can pass the blade through the fabric, slicing it down til it hangs loose and exposes her bra to you. Aeri watches you move the blade until it's pointed right at her sternum, the tip sharp enough for her skin to bead blood.

“Did you know that you live for about 10 minutes after being stabbed in the heart?” Your eyes flash with sadistic pleasure as Aeri flinches against the pain. “If it’s done right, the heart should stop beating immediately and poor little Aeri is left with no oxygen to her brain.”

Aeri should be scared. She should be trying to dial emergency services with the phone clutched in her hand. She should be doing anything other than getting her panties wet. Now that the knife has left her throat she can swallow and breathe (and moan) to her heart's content, awarding you with a pink flush to her cheeks and chest, which you notice immediately.

“You’re not scared. Are you, baby?” The tip digs deeper into her skin, blood beginning to drip on her bra and stain her tattered top. Your tone is rough and it makes her step back, the bench hurting her lower back more than the knife against her chest.

“Are you?”

“No.” She whimpers, her chest rising and falling rapidly, every movement shifting the knife and deepening the cut. The bite of the blade forces another gasp from her as she tries to shift away and her phone drops from her hand, hitting the floor with a clatter. You duck down to study her incision, your breath fogging up the steel before you pull back and flick it upwards, the bloodied tip now parallel to her mouth. “Lick it.”

The blade drips with blood, sliding down the side until it gets to the hilt and seeps over your thumb. The sight makes her skin crawl. That’s her blood. Aeri’s blood.

“You’re staring at it like you want it.” You taunt, angling the blade forward until it hovers over her lips. She swallows, averting her gaze like she wasn’t just entranced by the scarlet of her own blood.

“Don’t you want it, Aeri? Have a taste of yourself. I promise it's sweeter than it looks.”

Aeri’s weaker and much more pliable than she thought. She doesn’t even think twice once she opens her mouth to lap the knife. You turn it so she can only lick the flat of the blade — at least you’re gracious enough to let her have that. Your eyes meet as your breath matches hers, laboured and long.

The taste is sweeter than she thought. It’s not comparable to jam or ketchup with too much bitterness and tang but it wasn’t gut-retching. Maybe you were right.

“Such an obedient girl.” You purr after she licks the knife clean. A moan escapes Aeri as you reach for her chin, holding it in between your index and your thumb, making sure she can’t turn away.

“You know, I thought you were nothing special in bed. Just a plain vanilla bitch.” Aeri squirms under your gaze, bracing her hands against the countertop. The flat of the knife pats her cheek as you chuckle to yourself.

“God, I was so fucking wrong. You’re a freak!”

She whimpers, shaking her head a little now that the knife isn’t pointed towards her. Frankly, she doesn’t know why she’s denying it, she’s dripping and panting and too close to cumming it’s embarrassing.

“I’m no-”

Her words are cut off by your already harsh grip on her chin getting tighter.

“You are. You’re anything but vanilla.”

There’s a sick pleasure in your eyes. For a moment she plays with the idea that if this keeps up, you might stop your ‘late night habits’ – or maybe it’s a poorly concealed attempt to hide that she wants more of this. So much more.

You snap her chin towards the knife, letting the blade turn til her cheek has a thin line of blood blooming and slowly gathering to trail down to her jaw. It isn’t deep enough to leave a mark, the equivalent of a papercut but when you press the flat of the knife back to her cheek, it feels like it burns.

Tears prick Aeri’s eyes as she fails to stop you once more. It’s getting to her, the pain, the humiliation. She can’t stop you and she can’t stop the aching of her cunt. If she knew you’d let her, she’d shove her hands down her pants right then and there, getting off on the faint marks you’ve already bestowed upon her.

“Up.” You tap the counter with your free hand. Aeri pushes herself up without a word. She knows you can slaughter her without the blink of an eye. She’s done her research, figured out where you go at night, why the smell of bleach lingers around you. She knows what you can do with that knife.

But seriously, at this point she doesn’t care. You’re already treating her like prey – why can’t she enjoy it too?

“You’re not much of a killer.” At first, her voice tremors, then somehow she pulls the audacity out of her ass to taunt you back even when she’s dripping blood from two separate locations. “You can’t even hurt me properly.”

Aeri can tell that she’s pissed you off and it’s exhilarating. The knife dips back to the valley of her breasts, following its journey down to the centre of her bra.

“You’re lucky I don’t want to blunt my knife on the underwire.” You murmur before letting gravity take control, guiding the blade plunging down until it stops a millimetre from her thigh. Aeri can’t stop herself from tensing, ready for the pain. When it doesn’t come, she practically whines in frustration.

You’re such a tease.

“Not vanilla. Maybe… chocolate?” Your head tilts to the side and Aeri has no clue what you’re planning.

Slowly, you let the blade touch her thigh, pushing up and under her skirt. Thank fuck for the skirt – as hot as it is for you to do this, Aeri doesn’t want her favourite clothes ruined.

You chuckle when her leg twitches but Aeri barely notices, her head is already buzzing from anticipating your moves – the cut on her cheek stings, keeping her from completely giving into you.

She’s paying way too much attention to the pain and not enough on your actions because suddenly there’s a sharp pinch to her clit and the flaring slice of steel against her thigh. Aeri has to grab onto your neck just to stay upright, her mouth parted and eyes closing as she begins to pant.

The blade scratches into her thigh and her nails scratch the back of your neck. Not exactly 1:1 but close enough for Aeri to get a kick out of it. Besides, the fingers sliding through her folds and stimulating her clit is enough to make the pain turn into pleasure.

It’s like a cutie mark, she notes. Except the lines slowly carve out to be your initials and Aeri practically comes at the feeling. She shudders, moaning wantonly – the knife isn’t deep enough to scar permanently, it’s not deep enough.

“Maybe not chocolate. Too common. Orange chocolate, maybe.” She can barely even hear your voice through her heavy breathing.

Aeri wails when she feels you mark two little dots to the initials her skin, effectively marking her as yours while her orgasm slams into her like a truck on a highway. She’s so completely gone, your fingers tweaking her clit and barrelling her into a second, weaker orgasm.

“A Blood Orange Bitch.” You coo as her hips stutter, grinding into your hand.

It’s too much and the last thing Aeri sees is your pink tongue licking up her blood that’s splattered on your fingers.

NOTE: almost wrote about gi being fucked with the knife’s handle but idk maybe that’s too freaky, even for me, also! might edit this later idk if it's up to my standard :P

i edited a little 🧍‍♀️ accidentally posted a version with a sentence NOT COMPLETED

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