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#cw: knives
angelatsumu · 1 month
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secrecy. [j. price]
in which captain price denies his love for you publicly, and that doesn't go over well.
cw: angst (a tiny bit...like it's a little hurtful), SMUT, minors kick rocks DNI, price called daddy but is very switch/sub here, knife play, afab!reader, sorta toxic behavior (don't deny your spouse for a bit of approval with your friends bro), blood play a tiny bit, riding, overstimulation, not proofread
“there’s simply nothing worth settling down for lads. end of discussion.” your teeth met the inside of your cheek to stave off the grimace that fought to surface. your lover, the man you called your husband, had the audacity to allow such foolishly indignant words slip from his liquor laced tongue. the gall of the man who’d insisted you make him the happiest man on earth, the one who’d spent hours practicing his speech in the mirror, was something you’d found quite unexpected. to allow such insanity slip from those precious lips you kissed every morning was far more than an insult to your heart; it broke your pride. you’d pridefully and proudly called yourself the captain’s wife, head held higher than it had been before the silly ring on your finger. it was one thing to keep your marriage a secret—that you two had agreed upon—but to admonish your place in his heart? that was unmistakably cruel. your eyes met your lover’s as the men seemed to light-up at his words, applauding him for his dedication to the taskforce and military business. the display only made you want to revolt even more.
the drive home was quiet. normally you’d pretend to be a bit too drunk so that price could pretend to chivalrously take you to your apartment, but tonight you felt no need for such a foolish charade. there was simply no scent for your fellow task force members to follow because john had snuffed out that flame with his foolish banter. you sat bitterly brewing in your misery, flames of wicked jealousy licking at your heels with each passing moment. john could feel it radiating from you, the air too thick for him to swallow as he pridefully refused to concede and beg for forgiveness. the sheer thought of your husband standing by his bravado-littered statements covered you in a figurative sheen of vengeance. you were desperate for the opportunity to right him, to make him eat every little word he’d muttered. you had half the mind roll out of the moving car right this moment, but you decided against such reckless antics. instead, you’d decided to kickstart his own descent into delirium. there was nothing more tantalizing to your husband than making love to you, and perhaps that is where your edge lied.
the sight below you was gloriously sinful. your lover with flushed cheeks and tear-speckled eyes, precious blade of your combat knife nestled just beneath his jaw. your hand could slip and it would bring scarlet red droplets to the surface, giving him a closer shave than he’d bargained for. he knew this, and the thought made his cock stir inside your velvety walls. with each teasing roll of your hips a whimper fled john’s lips, soft pleas for your mercy. his eyes glistened at you as though you hung the stars, just as they were designed to. pressing the knife’s blade ever-so-lightly, you lifted your hips high enough that only the tip remained encased in your plush cunt. the action causes your husband’s brows to knit together as you hover there with the cruelest scowl you can manage. “please, love. ‘m sorry, daddy’s sorry,” he all but whimpers, hips stirring before halting at the feel liquid running down the side of his neck. you scoff at him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer to the object of your affection. your lips hover above his, breath fanning over his skin. “yeah? daddy’s sorry, hm?” he nods eagerly, knicking himself again in dumb desire to please you. you dip your head into the crook of his neck, deft tongue licking a stripe along the path of the stray droplet of blood. the action of ownership leaves your husband dizzy as an uncontrolled whimper leaves his lips. you hum, wicked grin pulling at your lips as you plop yourself down onto him. the fat of your ass claps against his thighs, and your head falls back at the feeling of being so full. you groan, rolling your hips forward just enough to catch your clit on the ridge of his pelvis. john’s hands instinctively move to clutch your hips, and you tut at him amusedly.
your cunt was driving john to insanity, and you weren’t too far behind him. the pace you’d set was increasingly tiring, but your abdomen continued to be set aflame with carnal desire. the clap of your ass against your husband’s lap resounded through the room as you fucked yourself—and him—stupid on his girthy length. orgasm after orgasm had rushed over the two of you, yet your desire for more never wavered. your grip on your beloved knife had since loosened enough that there was no true threat, though the thrill remained. your husband was beautifully fucked beneath you, lip quivering as his eyes struggled to stay open. your tight heat felt torturous, the sensation of your walls griping him like a vice bringing him to tears. your eyes intently glared down at your man, as much as you could while being fucked open. “can’t take anymore, love,” your husband whimpers, hands gripping your hips harshly as he weakly attempted to slow your movements. you huffed at him, hand moving to grip his jaw and force his gaze to yours. your gaze made his cock stir inside your plushy cunt. “you can take it,” you spat at him, squeezing his jaw at the hinges to force his mouth open. without thought you spat into your lover’s mouth, riding him with more tenacity as you felt your high approaching. “oh fuck,” he whined, head falling back from your gasp as you milked him for his last orgasm of the night. “you look at me when I fucking cum, and you remember who you settled down with, john,” you scold him, tugging on his dog tags to force him to meet your view again. the sight before you was picture worthy, pitiful fucked out captain gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky; to him, you did. your orgasm swept you in a vicious wave of euphoria, thighs trembling as you moaned softly over your lover. the cant of your hips slows as you ride out your high, sweat-coated body leaning to press flush against his. john sighs, arms wrapping around you as he babbles apologies into your chest and neck. “never mean’ it, never say it again” he babbles softly, and you’re certain some of his brain oozed out from his ears with how thoroughly you’ve fucked him. with a sigh you untangle yourself from him, peering softly into his beautiful eyes before leaning to pepper kisses along his face. “i love you, John. thank you for letting me have this,” you hum softly. truly he could’ve called off the whole encounter, but he allowed you this relief. oh, what a lover you have.
likes + coments + rbs always appreciated <3 thx
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and-bone-appetit · 23 days
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killer with palette #15? also i love your art style !!
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Killer w/ #15! Thx for the request! :3
Love this color palette on him! I'm pretty happy with this one!
Killer belongs to Rahafwabas
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wxnheart · 1 year
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Safety was a farce. Or so he once believed. And to dare to be vulnerable was bullshit that caused more problems than it did solve them.
For him, security was keeping his blade close, his gun(s) closer, and his senses sharp. He'd had enough of lies and treachery and of heartbreak, perhaps, and it was enough to blanket him in the undeniable truth that betrayal was always around the corner.
Yeah. That's what he told himself.
Until you came along.
And now, security—safety—is the gentle squeeze of your arms every time you embrace him. It is the concern and love in your eyes, adoration burning bright radiant hues, and god, baby, don't ever stop looking at him like that—
He sometimes wonders what could have been if you'd never come and turned his world upside down, if you never taught him that safety wasn't just the pull of a trigger or a flick of the wrist. But the caress of his face and the warmth of your kiss stops him in his tracks.
And for you, he doesn't want to turn back.
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wildfang-art · 1 month
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"(...) Moreover, perhaps it isn’t love when I say you are what I love the most - you are the knife I turn inside myself, this is love. This, my dear, is love." Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
My fourth entry for 2024's Romencken week, for the prompt "weapon". The quote that is included in this piece is by Franz Kafka, an excerpt from a letter to his lover Milena. It's a quote that instantly stuck with me when I first read it as an angsty, goth-y teenager and it came to mind again when I thought about Roman, Jeryd and weapons. Enjoy!
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wasilly-wasilev · 5 days
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Nasty Thoughts (as well as some pleasant ones) 2024
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cw — angst + mild violence (knife)
she no longer feels the chill of the desert in his kiss, but when they part, she frowns. her eyes downcast towards the curved blade beside them where she picks it up again. she places it in the palm of rafayel’s hands before she speaks once more …
“you know elder amund was telling me old tales of lemuria. the tales about a great god of the sea and his most devout follower. then he spoke of a traditional ceremony in which the heart of the follower will sustain lemuria…” she recounts, brushing her finger across the handle of the blade.
she draws rafayel’s hand to hold the blade to her chest. his pressure feather-lite as the tip of the knife rests above her heart. “is that why you have returned? to take my life and restore the seas rafayel? is… is that what you need?” she says, blinking her eyes up at him as she touches his cheek.
she squeezes her eyes shut signifying her readiness for death at the hands of him.
—💌🦈
"what is your highness doing?"
he questions, watching as she takes the blade and places it in his hands. his brows furrow, listening to her intently, his eyes spell something that cannot be read, years of practicing or rather, years full of emptiness upon losing her.
yet he remains still. listening to her words that elder amend told her. then the flashbacks occur. the sea god's ceremony with his devout follower play through his head like an old movie projector, the smiles they shared followed to that day.
he never took her heart. the prophecy states to do so, in order to return the seas that dried up because of the heart that beats in his beloved's chest. but he will go against it. and so, with a swift movement, he takes the blade, careful not to harm her as he flips it around his fingers.
he gaze drifts to blade then to her, taking the side of it to make her look up at him. he does so with diligence ensuring not a cut can be made on her beautiful skin as he leans in close.
"open your eyes and look at me."
he commands, voice firm as he slides the tip of his blade down to her chest before pull it away and sheathing the blade, ensuring it is nowhere near her, his gloved fingers curl to cup her chin, eventually moving downward to wrap around her neck loosely as he keeps eye contact with her.
"our vow is eternal, your highness. that's why i'm here. now, it's late. you must rest. we'll leave in the morning."
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yandereloveraw · 10 months
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Boards for Sun and Moon as DDLC characters. I made Sun Sayori, then couldn't decide if Moon would be Monika or Yuri, so I made both.
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I was repeatedly listening to Doki Doki Forever [Male Version] by Caleb Hyles while making these. I like to think these two would sing that to you. ^^
All images belong to their creators. I just made the boards.
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pjunicornart · 2 months
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Knife Collection
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Those knives are just for show, right? Right, Lamb Lewis?
Some more Little Lambs stuff. This time, Lewis is showing you part of his impressive knife collection! His most prized blade is kept somewhere extra special...
Inspo -> breakcore mix for the insane by RockCherry on Youtube (playlist) - Lamb Lewis definitely listens to breakcore.
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lixeenu · 2 years
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“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
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vickysaurus · 10 months
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Bump: "So very lifelike.. When Miss Blight told me about your abomination, I had to come by, see what she's made of."
Willow: "Oh, I have her list of ingredients right here."
Bump: "No. We were hoping for a... closer look"
Principal Bump's first appearance is quite threatening, but also very much in character. After all, he's got good reason to suspect there's an intruder in his school, which of course, there is.
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zitasaurusrex · 2 years
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@the-spoopy-ghost-of-raejin99​ got me looking at shitty knife websites again and i’m in hell
this is a “cyclone push dagger” what even the fuck is it supposed to be for
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meanwhile it is fucking shameful how bad something in me wants this shitty goddamn knife
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god and also possibly jesus
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hell
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i guarantee that if you even look at one of these fuckers wrong it flies apart in your hand
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aetaliaxiv · 2 years
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safety
#FFXIVWrite2022 - Day 01: Cross
This short story regards acts of blood magic - !!major!! cw: blood, knives & self cutting, all described 
The dagger was small enough that even at A’etalia’s size, it wouldn’t feel overwhelming; simple, silver, sharp at the edges that parchment wouldn’t even whisper as it tore. 
And it’d hurt the least in her palm, a goal of hers, even should the blood drip slower. That’s okay - she mainly needed an outlet wide enough, the place from where she could draw that aether to channel into her attacks. A finger prick was too small, but the wrong place would cause blood loss. The blood spilled made it more efficient, but it was messy and unnecessary. 
Again, the pain - she would get used to it, but she would prefer to minimize it. Like the blood, that wasn’t the point. Too much pain in combat was simply a distraction. But it hurt, every time it met that similar streak of flesh again. She knew this was a discomfort she had to acclimate to, but even then, this didn’t feel right. 
It felt unsafe, to trace back where she had the morning before, even with the healing, the conjury. Injury after the battle was still a battle injury of sorts. 
When A’myshtea saw those trails, her housemate and lover, experienced in combat and the wounds it dealt, she frowned. She understood, at least, what ‘Talia’ was attempting. 
“Infections,” ‘Mysh’ simply stated, to start. “Do it over and over, and that wound will fester. It’s too close too a muscle, too - too deep, it’ll cut one, make your hand useless, and an infection may do similar. So-- don’t do it in the same spot. Do it adjacent. Not too close.” 
Her finger reached out. It hesitated - should she help at all? But A’etalia was stubborn, learning as fast as possible to wield magics that would grow her power. And so Mysh would draw that finger somewhere off to the side of the conjury-healed wound from that morning, which looked like faded ink now, and then let it cross at the center, before dragging off to another unmarked point on her palm. 
“At that distance, it shouldn’t reopen an old wound, so long as there’s conjury or a good potion. Just don’t press too deep, or do it too soon. Again, you’ll risk cutting muscles and causing infections. And like this, you may well just cut off a whole piece of flesh, too.” 
When Talia stepped off, having taken that advice in sincerity, one more look of worry drew across Mysh’s features. 
There was no right way about this. They both knew that. 
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jo3ydr3w · 7 days
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ImNotaCasuality clips as our system
🎧
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bearmojis · 4 months
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Ivano, being a hot mobster as usual
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wild0moon · 12 days
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little man's lucky he's gay because he's never having kids after this
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taromies · 1 month
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I don't have anything funny to say I just love amanda young
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