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kalevalakryze · 8 months

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Bleed It Out

For Bo-Katan Week Day 6: Bo-Katan and The Armorer Pairing: Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Din Djarin (mentioned), Axe Woves (mentioned) Warnings: NSFW, explicit, not safe for minors Word Count: 4,125 Notes: don't look at me, I realized I only wrote bosoka smut for this week, and I couldn't just not remedy that... AO3 Link: Here!

nsfw warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Blood, Sex on the Rougher Side, Spanking, Don’t Worry There Will Always Be Aftercare, Crying During Sex, But Not for Bad Things, You Ever Trust Someone So Much You Just Gotta Cry?, Or Miss Someone So Much You Have To Fight Everyone? Anxiety, Bo-Katan Is A Biter, Who Needs Thrown Around Sometimes

To say Bo-Katan got a little ‘antsy’ around the anniversary of Satine Kryze’s death and life days was an understatement. The entire week prior to both anniversaries would lead to progressive alcoholism and violent outbursts towards those closest to her.

Din Djarin had been on the receiving end of one of these outbursts not long after he’d arrived with Grogu. He had only been trying to help, had been trying to learn more and understand from the woman he called his Mand’alor and his friend. Yet, when he’s asked her what was troubling her, the woman had lashed out. She hadn’t attacked the man’s character or religion, but she had thrown insults, many of which couldn’t even apply to the man in the shining armor. When she’d shoved past him to exit the small Mandalorian bar they’d built in the ruins of Sundari, her pauldron had scraped across his chest, leaving a streak of blue across the metal with the force she’d used to shoulder past him.

He had been receptive to her reaction of his presence and had to change his plans to go to the forge to buff the streak out. It was there he’d seen The Armorer and had questioned her on the Mand’alor’s state. She hadn’t known, of course, she’d taken notice, but had yet to voice her concerns. It was in the form of Axe Woves that they’d learned of her annual devolution of her convictions.

The Armorer had helped Din repair his armor, before sending everyone away from the forge, with the mission to find the woman and send her that way. The Armorer could understand the tension in the woman, but she needed to help her find some way to let it off, before she went after more than just Din, who she was lucky enough to have been a very understanding person.

It took a few good hours before anyone had been able to get a hold of her, and she’d heard over the comm channels that Axe would be in the med bay for the night.

When the woman entered the forge, her boots landed heavy on the stone, her helmet covered the way her face was no doubt twisted in irritation. When she came to a stop just feet away from The Armorer, it was with a defiant jut of her hips and her chin raised, shoulders squared and muscles tense, like she was waiting for the most opportune moment to start a physical altercation.

“You called?” There was a strain in her voice, as if civility was physically painful. The Armorer did not doubt that it could have been, if the volatile energy that was brimming just over the surface was anything to go by.

“I hear Axe Woves will be spending the night in the infirmary,” she started, shifting her attention away from her workstation to focus intently on the woman before her.

“He shouldn’t have touched me,” the woman defended herself with a snap, body weight rocking on her heels. “He had it coming,”

“He shouldn’t have, this is true. And yet, you should not have responded by attacking him,” the woman’s foot moved forward, though The Armorer’s hand raised to both stop her advance and stop her rebuttal. “Whatever your feelings about the Duchess Satine’s death, reacting in anger is no way to mourn,”

“You don’t get to tell me how to mourn my sister,” Bo snapped, fingers flexing into tight fists. It was clear that the Mandalorian was ready to snap, that she was looking for somebody who would give her a proper fight. The Armorer was not loathe to the fact that it would be her to spur the coming altercation.

“You are mourning a woman who could barely be considered Mandalorian. A woman who gave up her armor and way of life, and then pushed it on to everyone else, banning those who did not wish to conform. Is she worth wasting the breath, now?”

Bo-Katan’s windup was fast, just enough to register in The Armorer’s brain and give her body a moment to tense. Her head snapped to the side, shuffling backwards to regain her balance with the force of the woman’s fist crashing into her face. “You don’t get to talk about her like that,” Venom dropped from her voice, fingers flexing from the spasming of muscle in her hand. There would forever be permanent damage from the way her hand had been broken, leading to what could be considered a merciful punch, despite the way it still had hit like getting kicked by a Bantha.

The next punch was met with empty air as The Armorer moved around her fist to land her own blow into the woman’s chest. The woman was sent off kilter, but responded in turn with her foot kicking out into the leather padding of The Armorer’s shin.

Blue dodged out of the way of the grappling attempts from gold, feet and fists lashing out between the two women. The Armorer stayed silent as she moved around a leg sweep, her elbow driving into the hard metal on Bo-Katan’s back, thanking whatever power led to the woman leaving her jetpack at home for the day.

Bo-Katan lost her footing at the downward pressure applied to the small of her back, a feral sounding growl leaving her helmet’s vocoder as she stumbled. The Armorer pulled up against the woman the moment she found an opening, forcing her arms under Bo-Katan’s elbows, locking behind her back, and then forcing the woman into her workbench with a loud slam, the wooden legs of the table creaking with the force the Mand’alor was shoved into it.

Bo twisted and turned, writhing to find some way to break the impenetrable hold. Her hips bucked back against The Armorer, who leaned her body into her to keep her pinned, her feet kicking into her shins, stomping on her boots, and catching on her apron in her vain attempts to free herself.

When The Armorer tried moving both of Bo-Katan’s wrists to one hand, the woman managed to free herself. The bench moved back with the force of the woman shoving herself away from the pin, when she turned, her foot raised to plant firmly into The Armorer’s gut and shove her back.

The uppercut that The Armorer retorted with was enough to have Bo-Katan’s head snapping back, the pressure seal of her helmet breaking with the force of it and leaving the armor askew and clouding her gaze. There was no gentleness in the way Bo-Katan removed her helmet and threw it to the floor, where it scraped across the stone and jagged rock formations that littered the inside of the forge.

Her hair was a mess, her cheeks reddened, lips dry and chapped from the heavy breathing that moved her entire chest. Her eyes held an intense anger, though the thrill and excitement of being evenly matched was clear. Purple bruises were already forming along the pale skin of her jaw and cheek, with darker purpling closest to her cheekbone where the helmet had bashed into her face with the hit.

Bo’s arms spread, urging The Armorer to swing again. When she did just that, Bo managed to force her knee up into The Armorer’s stomach with force, keeping her doubled over enough that she’d put a hand on the top of her helmet and shoved her backwards.

With the space created between them, the two warriors began circling each other, Bo, with a snarl on her lips, and The Armorer, with a practiced indignation. When she’d passed her workbench once more, the blacksmith slid her hammer from the surface, hefting its weight in her hand as they continued their walk. This seemed to only excite the fiery woman more, as the vibroblade inside her gauntlet unsheathed quickly.

When they met again, it was with metal meeting metal, knife meeting hammer. With the proximity, Bo-Katan had managed to kick into The Armorer’s bad knee, sending her down to one knee and causing her to drop her weapon. In the next second, the woman’s boot found her chest plate and kicked her to the floor.

“Get up,” Bo rasped as she put distance between them again. She was tiring, but the anger still vibrated the core of her being, keeping her blood burning as she kicked the hammer back to The Armorer as she raised on her knees.

The Armorer’s leg wobbled from the hit, a decade old pain shooting from her knee and leaving her leg practically locked. She took up her hammer once more, testing its weight with her flared up knee injury, staring down the bellicose woman across from her.

Teeth bared, Bo-Katan charged once more, the hammer swung into her side, but to no avail, without being able to put her full weight on her leg, she wasn’t able to put enough power behind the swing to divert her course. The redhead slammed into her with the force of a hundred mythosaurs, leaving The Armorer just enough time to dodge her head out of the way of the bladed gauntlet aimed towards her visor.

She’d have to call it, but Bo-Katan was very much out for blood, pushing herself far enough to chase her anger and her thrill. Over exerting herself, The Armorer jammed her knee upwards as the redhead moved to straddle her. Their positions were reversed in short order, both panting, hot breath filling her helmet as blood and spittle dripped from the Mand’alor’s mouth.

With enough of a struggle to have her wheezing, The Armorer managed to roll Bo-Katan onto her stomach, forcing one arm behind her back, while carefully avoiding the blade in the gauntlet, and forcing her other arm against the ground. It was a struggle to remove the grappling wire from the armor with one hand, but she wasn’t an expert in her craft for nothing.

Once the length of grappling wire was removed, she started forcing the redhead’s other arm behind her back. Bo-Katan kicked and tried to throw her off, but the woman was heavier, and she’d worn herself out, her muscles aches and screamed their protests with each contraction as she writhed.

The wire was wrapped tight from her wrists, halfway up her forearms, locked in tight with the grapple hook. Bo-Katan seethed beneath her, insults in a mixture of languages, basic, mando’a, huttese, even the growls and grunts of Tusken left the older woman as she tried to free herself.

As she struggled, and The Armorer fought to regain herself while keeping the woman pinned, the woman was able to decipher the confusing insults: none of them had been directed towards the people she’d lashed out at, but herself, instead. “Lady Kryze,” she tried to call, one last attempt to soothe the inferno that was the youngest Kryze sister.

Her hand reached around to try and still her writhing head, to stop her forehead from smashing into stone. Instead, she was met with the feeling of sharp teeth sinking into the thick leather of her glove, a stinging pressure behind four too-sharp-to-be-human canines, and the warm mixture of blood and spit soaking into her glove.

Her other hand reached away from bound wrists to tangle into sweat damp hair, yanking back hard enough to have the woman yelling out, releasing the hand in her mouth as her head was wrenched backwards.

The woman’s writhing form stilled for as long as The Armorer kept her hair pulled in her fist, the woman’s response to the painful stimuli was telling, and while it was something they’d talked about when this had first begun between them, The Armorer had yet to see Bo-Katan in such a state.

She was used to burning herself out in these fits of anger, would fight anyone who got close enough until no one would come near her, and then take several days to recover, no one had ever stuck around long enough to attempt to aid in releasing the violent energy (not that she’d wanted them to, there wasn’t anyone she’d ever really trusted like this, to give back what she put down, and still offer some sort of care in return). The Armorer’s weight shifted once more, sliding off the redhead’s back. With a violent shake, the taller woman tried to break her bonds, to no avail.

The Armorer hauled her up by the wrists, before she found herself once more slammed into the workbench. The kicking and squirming resumed, though each hit that landed felt like nothing as the woman spent herself on the thought of freedom.

She preferred to take her time with the woman, to go slow enough and give her a clear way out each time, instead, with her hand reburied in Bo-Katan’s hair and pressing her face into the cool metal of the work bench, The Armorer levelled her head near a red-tipped ear. “You are going to tell me if I have to stop, and you are going to get the attitude fixed,” She growled, low and venomous in her ear.

Bo-Katan growled and bucked back against her. “Go fuck yourself,” she snarled, even as she arched her back and pressed her hips up into the warm hips that kept her against the table. The anger was still palpable, but there was no doubt that the arousal was there, that the wire digging into her flight suit and scratching the paint on her gauntlets didn’t do something to her.

There was no one she trusted enough to fight like this, and even less people she trusted to bind her arms uselessly behind her back like this. Even through the cloudy haze of seething anger, Bo-Katan could still recognize the relative safety of the situation.

Her armor was tossed away with as much care as her helmet was., her flight suit ripped at the clasps, only the upper half of anything remained, the leather holsters attached to her belt hung loose against shaking, sweat and slick damp thighs. The ripped remains of her flight suit pooled uselessly around her greaves and ankles. When cool air met flushed skin and a warm cunt, the woman clenched around nothing.

The Armorer did not bother to wait, not with how violently the woman was contortioning herself to keep fighting. She yanked off her glove in one fluid motion, before shifting to stuff the leather in Bo-Katan’s mouth, leaving the woman confused when she’d snapped at the prospect of digging her teeth into flesh again, and met only the thick softness of leather filling her mouth, without the promise of flesh and blood inside.

Two bare fingers slipped into the Mand’alor, who groaned and growled against the glove in her mouth. She could spit it out, if she’d truly wanted, though, between the lewd squelching of her fingers setting a brutal pace against Bo-Katan’s cunt, she could hear the creaking of the leather in her mouth as she’d chewed on the thick hide. Drool dripped from the corner of the redhead’s lips, while her hips bucked back into the harsh pace that was set.

When The Armorer’s fingers slipped from her spasming cunt, Bo-Katan’s forehead dropped against the metal of the table with a hard thunk, her foot once more trying to land a substantial hit back against The Armorer’s bad knee.

Instead of sending The Armorer down once more, Bo-Katan was met with a sharp sting against her ass and the sound of flesh smacking against flesh ringing in her ears. She’d gasped hard against the glove in her mouth, back arching as her ass raised into the air.

The next smack was expected, but the relief and arousal was not minimized one bit. Tears sprang to her eyes at the register of pain, though she did not let one fall, even as The Armorer set a pace that involved dipping her fingers into her cunt, only to retrieve them and smack her ass again. Red marks painted her backside, from the bottoms of her thighs, to the seat of her ass, though each time the palm of The Armorer’s hand smacked against her absolutely soaked cunt, Bo-Katan’s writhing would increase tenfold. The tears started to fall by the fifth repeat of the torturous pleasure, until she was breathing in deep, muffled gasps from behind the glove. Cheeks painted as deep a red as her ass, pupils blown wide, and a mix of blood and drool in a nearly dry river from the corner of her lips.

When The Armorer’s fingers dug back in, there were three nimble digits to spread her out. Her hips jutted back into each rough thrust, with her tongue, she pushed the glove from her mouth, letting it fall against the workbench with a wet thunk. Her breaths came heavy and uncontrolled, chest heaving and arms pulling at tight restraints as she lost herself to the rhythm of fingers curling into the textured coil inside, on the fires that spread from the knot in her stomach all the way.

“Ekur ni,” Bo’s command came out raspy, hesitance thick, despite the anger ebbing into the tone.

The Armorer responded smoothy, her free hand moving from the back of Bo-Katan’s neck to curl around her throat. Pressure was applied to the front of her throat, causing the woman’s eyes to roll to the back of her head, her walls clamping down on The Armorer’s fingers as her orgasm crested the horizon. Each breath came in a restricted wheeze, though the woman rode herself hard back on The Armorer’s fingers with each breath.

She could feel the moment the fight had finally left her body, released with the slick that coated The Armorer’s fingers and the insides of her thighs, when she went to remove her hand from the woman’s throat, there was a quiet command of “Don’t,” Too quiet to hear, she would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching her face so intently for some signal of discomfort.

The Mand’alor kept herself leaned into the hand that was cutting off her air, even after the other woman’s fingers slid from her cunt, she seemed lost in the world of her own wheezing breaths. Wiping off the mess from her fingers onto the ripped back of Bo-Katan’s flight suit, The Armorer started to categorize each injury on the both of them, as far as she could look still leaned over Bo and holding her throat in the palm of her hand.

“I am going to let go now,” The Armorer warned, once the redhead’s eyes started to cloud and each breath grew more of a struggle to take. She was gentle in releasing her bruised throat, guiding her head to rest on the table instead of letting it smack against the metal once more.

From her position, she could see the dark bruises that covered the front and sides of shaking thighs, along with the red-hot sting of abused flesh across the backs of her thighs and her ass. Shoving up part of her flight suit, The Armorer prodded the bruised skin across her ribcage, frowning to herself when she felt the displacement among her ribs. The Armor should have protected her from the swing of the hammer, though they had fought quite a while, and the edge of the table had found the already damaged space on more than one occasion.

Bo-Katan stayed limp against the table, allowing The Armorer’s hands to roam across her spent body, her breaths still coming in deep and uncontrolled. When she was sure the older woman would not lash out again, the wire around her wrists was carefully undone and tossed to the side with her discarded armor. The fabric around the cable had ripped and torn into flesh with the Mand’alor’s struggling, though the woman did not seem phased by any of it.

“You’ll take care of me..?” Bo-Katan rasped as The Armorer started to peel away the rest of her armor and ruined flight suit, shifting with each tap against her body as fabric and armor was pulled away.

“Always,” The Armorer promised fervently, her bare thumb pressing into the damp skin on the insides of her wrist. “How is your hand?” She questioned as she pressed into the curled up extremity. Without her glove, the bruising and swelling was substantial, fingers twitching with every press into damaged tissue, though she was unable to straighten any of her fingers.

Bo-Katan went silent once more, body lax against the table as The Armorer waited for a response. “Mesh’la,” She called, raising a hand to card through and straighten out her hair, wincing to herself at the strands of hair that came free with her hand.

There was a quiet, keening sound from the woman who’d pressed her face against the cool table. The quiet sniffle and near hyperventilative breath had worried The Armorer, who caught the wet shine of tears pooling down her face and dripping onto the table, the small pool streaming to the edge of the caving in table in thin rivulets.

“Cyar’ika,” She tried again, as Bo-Katan’s body shook with a mixture of emotion and exhaustion.

“Don’t want to talk,” She whispered into the metal, before she started to shift her body just enough to push herself up on shaking arms.

The Armorer nodded her head in understanding, shifting back to allow the woman to rise up once more and to aid her in turning around to face her. The Armorer then assisted the Mand’alor into jumping back up onto the table, though they were both immediately hit with the startled yelp of pain from the woman, who’d leaned as much of her weight into the woman in front of her to ease off her ass.

“Let me help you to the room,” The Armorer spoke after a few moments of Bo-Katan’s heavy breathing in her ear. When Bo nodded, The Armorer helped her up once more. Truthfully, they’d both leaned on each other for support as The Armorer led the way to the small room that occupied the great forge. Bo-Katan stood bonelessly against the wall beside the door, watching The Armorer move around with tired eyes.

They kept everything they needed in the room, from bacta, to sedatives (a long story), to any other item they may need, including extra clothes and flight suits. With the small fire lit and casting dancing shadows across the room, The Armorer went about gathering supplies.

“Come,” She called once she settled against the edge of the bed, her leg spread out to take pressure off her knee. Bo came obediently to stand between her legs, her nose crinkling at the sharp smell of bacta invading her nostrils. Generous amounts of patches and salve were spread across damaged skin, and a scan was taken over her ribs with the small handheld device that confirmed the crack. “You are going to take it easy, six weeks, at least,” The Armorer spoke with no room for argument, leaving the woman to simply nod in a quiet understanding.

There was a small shift in the woman, before Bo-Katan was being tugged gently and guided across her lap. The pliable woman allowed herself to be moved, relishing in the moment to press her sweaty forehead against the hot/cold feeling of her apron. A cool sensation numbed away the stinging heat of her backside, applied with more care than Bo-Katan figured she’d deserved, enough to nearly bring tears to her eyes once more.

When she was finished, Bo-Katan, still pliant as ever, allowed The Armorer to shift and move her around as she pleased, until she was resting back in the soft furs and the downy sheets from Coruscant. The Armorer did not lay back with her, which rose a sound of argument from the exhausted redhead.

“My leg,” Was the only response Bo-Katan received, though she’d understood easy enough. She had landed a pretty solid hit to her weak point, she’d doubted it would feel much better without heaps of bacta either.

“Do you need help?” She questioned, even knowing she would be turned down. The most she’d seen of the woman’s skin had been of strong hands, hardened by a long life of work. It was truly an honor to see as much of the woman, one she would never believe she was worthy of, but one she would never take for granted.

“I need you to rest, Mesh’la,” The Armorer’s voice was soft as she reached to card her fingers through Bo-Katan’s hair until the woman’s eyes drifted closed, the crackling of the fire and the soft sound of the woman’s voice reciting old poems giving her a serene soundscape to fall asleep to.

Translations: -mesh’la – beautiful -cyar’ika – darling, sweetheart -ekur ni – choke me

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bluiex · 1 year

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the dbh worms have spoken more! tw for murder since.. ya know. we let scar have a lil murder, as a treat.

scar tries to comfort grian at first. he really does, blood covered hands grabbing his lover by the face while murmuring phrases of affirmation. didn’t grian know it was safe now? the bad man was gone, why was he still crying? synthetic nails leaving crescent shaped marks in their wake as grian struggles in scar’s grasp, and he finally notices. the same terrified cornered animal expression grian held earlier, now projected onto him. then and there he witnesses every minuscule amount of progress grian managed to make over the past few months be flooded by a new trauma. a new aggressor. another person freak he had trusted. LED flashing in rapid successions of yellow to a scarlet red, a new emotion filled his processing system. was this always hidden in his code? was he really no better than humans? he was built by them of course, programmed with their intent and will. had their own sickness been placed into him? grian crumbling to the ground with a choked off sob, violently trying to wipe the gore from his face as scar stares dumbfounded at the crowd that has now gathered from the commotion. neither android nor human remembers the next few hours. grian comes out of his panicked state now in the apartment of his twin sister and scar hasn’t been seen since he fled from the shop.

HHNNN I need MORE

Where would Scar run too?? How is Grian feeling now he's away and kinda calmed now, safe with his Sister-

I like to think Scar is so confused and finds an abandoned home, or possibly hides out in the woods near home cuz that's all he knows

#bluie gets an ask poggers #tw minor blood #tw murder mention #dbh au #long post #implied yandere

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jackrabblt · 4 months

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shouta-edits · 1 year

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Minors dni with this post!

can you make a moodboard for billy/ Demogorgon (from stranger things) with themes of rape,gore/body horror,pain and blood? -anon requested

#billy hargrove #demogorgon #minors dni with this post #minors don't look #demogorgon x billy hargrove #moodboard #rape mention tw #gore cw #blood tw #body horror tw #bruises cw #proship #antis dni #anti harassment #proshippers please interact #proship safe #request fill

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batstorm93672 · 2 years

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Wayne funded events and other stuff like that isn't Damian Wayne's go to thing. Damian was refusing to go and put a small fuss over it.

Normally he'd make a comment and suck it up... buuuut he was being stubborn as hell and possibly, kinda, maybe hiding something... a whole fucking wound, but it's totally fine! He took the necessary steps on his own to care for it... now it was recovery that he refused to tell anyone about. Sure... maybe, sorta the wound wasn't healing properly... a tiny bit sorta maybe? It was... getting a bit worse possibly, maybe it was getting infected...

As if he would tell anyone, his pride is too strong to do that! Damian was surprised to find it becoming infected, he did so well to treat it.

Jason stepped into his room with his own annoyed face, he was the same with all of the events as well. "Dami, come on we gotta go" "I do not wish to go to that forsaken event" "Yeah me either, but we gotta do it regardless. So come on" "I already said no"

"Everyone else is pulling their weight, why can’t you?"

He doesn't mean bad by it, hell Jason said it with a light chuckle as a joke, but it's Damian's perfect complex that gets in the way.

Any sign of being no longer of use is scary. Damian sighed "I suppose you are right" Jason had a small smile "Good, I need my partner in crime so I don't have to suffer alone" "Tt. Come on then"

The car ride was... not so well either. Damian felt himself growing hot by the second, a case of what people would call "sickness" but he'll be damned if he said it to anyone. "Hey Little D, you ready?" Damian rolled his eyes "I rather stay in the vehicle" "...We could take it when no one is looking and drive out of here" "Not a bad idea Todd" Dick frowned "None of that today you two. Bruce is counting on us"

Damian and Jason sighed exasperated, the drive continued.

"Thank you all for coming. I'm sure the trip here was well?"

"Yeah it was all good B, thanks"

Bruce nodded and smiled, everyone went their separate ways. Damian usually stuck by Bruce, tonight he went to the shadows. Tim and Dick would converse with many others, Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke would be eating or speaking to a few people (not really Cassandra, she would just listen for the most part). Jason would linger around, either away from everyone or close to Dick so he could say he was there or something.

Damian felt as if every second here was unbearable, but he has to go through it. Once it's over and they arrive home, then he'll treat it properly. For now, he has to make it out.

"What are you doing lurking Demon?"

"Funny you would talk Todd"

"Heh maybe, anyways normally you'd hang by B, what's changed this time?" A fever. A fever is what changed it this time.

"Nothing, simply too tired to look somewhat interested in whatever anyone has to say"

"That sounds about right. Want something to eat?"

Damian shrugged, the thought of eating made him feel bad, but he can't let it slip. Jason left to the giant table of servings, leaving Damian to his shadowed corner.

This sucks. I hate these events, so time consuming

"I'm back bud, got a salad and whole bunch of other vegetarian food for you"

Jason passed the plate and Damian took it "Thank you Akhi"

The two spoke and laughed a bit as they ate, then Damian finished...

Fuck his life entirely. The food didn't sit well with him, he has to get out, make it natural don't raise any suspicion. "Thank you for the food Todd, I have to go use the restroom now" "Alright. I'll see you"

Damian left in a small hurry, trying to play it off as he opened the door and rushed to a stall. Slamming the door shut and barely making it as he vomited his insides out. Everything hurt.

Raising his shirt up, the cut was swollen and red, some blood was staining his shirt.

Not now.

If this keeps up then they'll find out...

Jason saw some small signs off of Damian, chalked it up to not wanting to come and he couldn't blame him for that. Then the suspicions changed as it was a whole 30 minutes and Damian hadn't returned. At first Jason thought he missed him and the kid left to the garden or something. Even asking everyone else, not a clue. Asking for everyone to keep an eye out, not tell Bruce and for Jason to look for Damian himself. If the family began to search then it would raise unwanted looks from the guests. If Bruce knew he would get nervous and maybe even shut down the event early.

Jason went to the restroom, last place the kid said he was going. Jason went in to hear vomiting from one of the stalls. Someone might have drank too much, well that's what Jason thought before he heard cries that were highly familiar.

"Habibi?"

A whine came out from the stall and it became slightly silent "Dami I know you are here, tell me what's going on?"

"Y-You won't tell?"

"No I won't" Get him to spill, then coax him to let others know was what Damian usually required.

"Okay..." A click and Jason opened the door, standing in shock before closing the door and locking it up. "Holy shit kid" His stomach had a horrible swollen, red cut about the length of his own forearm. "Shit, what happened?!"

"No... shouting. Didn't want to say about it, thought if I could make it through the night then..." Damian groaned and Jason kneeled down to see the wound at an angle where Damian was still over the toilet. "So you decided to not tell anyone you had a fucking infection?" "It wasn't this bad... I did everything right and then it got worse" "This is why you didn't want to go... why didn't you say anything? You wouldn't have had to go or you would have got it properly treated before when you first got hurt" "You said... I had to pull my weight, if I showed weakness then... I wouldn't be of any use"

Jason mentally slapped himself, God how could he forget how Damian is with hearing things like that and not getting a joke if it's hidden like that. "I didn't mean it like that, if I'd known then I would have made Bruce let you skip this one" "Sorry" "Don't apologize, what matters is getting this treated immediately. Come on, I'm gonna take you home and clean it up" "Father would be... upset would he not?" "No he won't, I'll let him know that I'm going to be there and that I have it under control. Of course I will be doing that once we are already in the Manor so he can't complain"

Damian nodded and Jason put the back of his hand on Damian's forehead "You're burning up as well... okay steady now I'm gonna carry you. We can take the back exit"

Damian was slowly picked up and he leaned his head against Jason's chest. His face flushed and drowned in sweat.

Finally making it back, Jason had to drive very slowly as to not upset Damian's stomach. Picking him up once more and going down the elevator to the Cave. "We're here, I already told everyone what happened. Dickie was a bit frantic, but it'll be okay. They are going to keep the event going while I take care of you" Damian lied down on the bed as Jason got everything needed to help. "Okay, stay with me now. This is gonna hurt, but I swear it's to help you" Damian's vision was bleary as he opened his eyes, a stinging pain shocking him "Nngh!" "I know, I know. It will be over, don't worry Habibi"

Damian's breath was shaky, but he managed to steel himself against the pain. "Hurts..." "I know, but it will be better. After I finish up, you can rest and you'll be okay in no time" Damian's mind was muddled as if fresh ink spilled on paper he couldn't concentrate, regardless he did as Jason said and tried to focus on whatever he could. "Okay, I cleaned it and re-did the stitching and all that stuff needed. I need you to take some medicine, one for the fever, another for the pain so you can at least rest" Damian sat up slowly as Jason moved to the left filing through a whole cart worth of supplies, making his way back and preparing a cup of water. "How bad is the pain?" "S'not so bad" "Yeah for you to start slurring like that says otherwise" Three pills in total "Open your mouth" Damian did as told, then Jason cupped Damian's jaw with his hand still holding the cup and helping Damian down the pills.

"Good, I'm gonna pick you up and take you to your room now"

"Kay"

Slow and steady, too fast and Damian might vomit or worse and honestly speaking, Jason doesn't want to see that.

"Okay there we go, nice and easy into the elevator we go"

"Can you hold my hand?"

"I'm holding your entire body up, don't have enough hands to right now"

"Mother when will I get to meet father? Is he as strong as grandfather?"

"...you're delirious. That bad of a fever?"

"I hope when I meet father... that he is proud of me too. I'll be strong and amazing just like him. Mother, can you sing for me? I like hearing your voice... soothing"

Jason closed his eyes for a moment and began to sing in Arabic, an old lullaby that Jason slightly recalls Talia had sung for Damian. He doesn't remember some of the words, so he just says something that may sound sweet to help. Walking to Damian's room and lying him down on the mattress, covering him with a blanket and turning on the AC as to help him cool down a bit. Jason kept singing while doing all of this.

For the first time tonight, Damian looked relaxed and content.

#damian wayne #damian wayne has feelings and he wont admit it #jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #mentioned cassandra cain #mentioned duke thomas #mentioned stephanie brown #tw throwing up #tw minor blood #tw infection #mentioned talia al ghul

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prinxejeanne · 10 months

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Okay, so I've started developing an idea of who I want Ivanka Korolenko (the original character I cosplayed as yesterday) to be

Details under the cut, copy and pasted from my notes app sjdjdjd

347 years old

She/they

Only drinks women's blood, since it tastes more "expensive"

Bimbo as fuck, very much a dumb blonde with big tits

LOVES money & expensive things, like Gucci bags and Prada, super materialistic

Obsessed with Y2K aesthetic, her vibe is kind of a mixture of Victorian Goth interior design and Barbiecore clothes/accessories

Bisexual icon, very into women (partially because she sees them as prettier and generally more pleasant to be around) but open to getting attention from people of other genders

HELLA JEALOUS when she's into someone

Kinda assumes everyone is okay with death, so they talk about it casually

Messy eater

Major daddy issues, ended up killing her father for abusing her mother and then was cast out of her home in the middle ages (which was when she became a vampire).

Was often viewed as "ugly" when she was a human, so she ended up becoming extremely conceited and self-centered after becoming immortal.

Maybe she meets someone who knew her before she became a vampire, and they're shocked by the massive change in her personality?

Non-judgmental about identity and race, although she has a habit of pointing out "issues" that could be fixed with cosmetics or surgery.

Sees people with college degrees as conceited, which is why she hasn't pursued any education.

Deep down, despite learning about feminism and being all for women expressing themselves how they want, a part of her is convinced that women shouldn't have to provide for their partners which would also explain their materialistic tendencies. Not only that, but she enjoys the validation she gets from the charm of being a vampire, so she kind of expects men to give her whatever she wants.

Very comfortable without the company of others, despite having some surface-level friends here and there. So self absorbed that she feels as if nobody could live up to her expectations.

Hosts HUGE parties and social events that almost always end up going to shit. Maybe she moves around a lot because of the events of these parties?

Can only get drunk/high when drinking the blood of a human that's intoxicated enough. Partially *why* she hosts these parties, like the food is coming to her directly instead of going out and hunting people for it.

Specifically targets the blood of sorority girls, but branches out and drinks other people's blood when she's feeling adventurous.

VERY selective of their partners. They flirt a lot, but they feel a sense of anxiety (and maybe a little Catholic guilt???) about letting people under their belt or getting romantically involved with people

Occassionally becomes very primal and violent due to her vampirism, and she enjoys the freedom of being in this state so she doesn't do much to stop it.

She's known for being reckless within the immortal community because she lost control and killed everyone attending one or two of her parties

She does feel kinda bad about killing people, but she doesn't dwell on it

Ivanka really does want to have better control over their violent tendencies, but their impulsivity and hedonism always overcome her desire to do the right thing.

Maybe she has developed a personality disorder due to the trauma and suffering of living for so long? Idk for sure though, might just go without a label or explanation

#tw intoxication mention #tw vampire-typical blood/death #mentions of spicy stuff but it's not really elaborated on so minors interact with caution

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kayla-crazy-stuffs · 2 years

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When he says it, it's for a reason pt 5

Finally the fifth part is here :D

Also after some month i finally managed to surpass 1000 words :'D

Anyways, Enjoy :)

TW: Blood, past minor character death mention and vore mention

About four days had passed since Dream and Sapnap were grounded for disobeying Bad and Skeppy. They had been begging them to let them go visit their new human friends.

Dream and Sapnap had explained to them that they were good people and that they had been taking care of them when they were hurt (at least Sapnap, Dream is an emotional trauma).

Still, Bad and Skeppy refused the requests, replying that they were still grounded and that they wouldn’t see these humans for a few weeks. It didn't seem fair to them.

They could be grounded for a day or two, four at the most, but it seemed their parents were really upset, plus they didn't want their kids around three humans.

So one night, as their parents finally fell asleep, they swam out of their house and headed to the beach, hoping it wasn't too late to find them. It took an hour or so for them to arrive, poking above the surface.

Dream thought he saw a familiar figure along with two others that seemed to be starting to leave, so he yelled as loud as he could, to be heard.

“Hey! George! We have come! Please don't go!" The figures stopped, turning and approaching the water. Sapnap and Dream, not knowing if it was really them, plunged half their heads back into the water.

“Dream? Sapnap? Have you really come?" Hearing the familiar voices, they quickly approached the shore where their friends crouched waiting for them.

“Yes, we have come, although it has cost us a lot, our parents said that we were still punished and that we would continue to be here for a few more weeks.” Sapnap said, running a hand through his hair as Dream added.

"Besides, they didn't want us to visit because you're human." “So, what you are telling us is that you have done the same thing as the last time?” Both mers nodded, while the humans heaved a sigh.

"Guys, we already know that you wanted to see us again and all that, but you can't disobey your parents and sneak out of your house." Karl commented as he ruffled both little ones' hair with one finger.

Suddenly a hand was placed on the shoulder of Dream and Sapnap. "Don't you think that the humans are right?" The two mers felt a chill turning around to see the blue mer and the jet-colored one a little further away.

“Heeeey… Skeppy….” He let out a sigh. “Okay, sorry for running away again… But it wasn't fair what you were doing. You can't decide for us, as if Dream and I don't have a life of our own…” He finished while rubbing his arms.

Skeppy's eyes widened. “Do you really feel that way? Both?" He watched as his two sons nodded and passed a hand over his face as he sighed.

"Look, Dream, Sapnap... We didn't mean to make you feel this way, we just wanted to protect you both... Dream, I think you need to know... Do you remember your parents?" Dream and Sapnap looked at him confused. "Uhh, yeah... It's you guys, isn't it?" Skeppy shook his head sadly.

“I found you alone in a deep hole crying, I picked you up seeing that there was no one around, only a slight smell of blood. So I figured something had happened to your parents and I took you to Bad. I tried to look for your parents shortly after but…there were only remnants of fins ripped off with blood. The smell was similar to yours so I could tell that your parents had died, so Bad and I decided to raise you along with Sapnap.” Dream was stunned at what Skeppy told him.

"Sorry we didn't tell you, muffin, we thought you weren't ready to find out yet..." Bad continued, moving a little closer to the shore. Tears began to form in Dream's eyes, letting out a sob soon after. "Dream..." Sapnap wrapped him in a comforting hug. The humans remained silent listening to everything they said. They did not know what to say about the situation they had just heard.

However, George got down on his knees in the wet sand, slowly reaching out his hands to the hugging mers. Sapnap noticed and swam away from Dream, allowing George to pick Dream up in his hands. Bad was about to say something when he saw that George just held him in a soft hug, not caring that the little mer wet his shirt, while Dream hugged him back.

“Not all humans are bad, there are also good people. There are times when you have to trust someone even though it can have both good and bad consequences.” Karl said, sitting on the sand, looking at Dream and Sapnap's parents.

“We know, we just have crossed the line with overprotection. So, you guys are the ones who helped Dream and Sapnap?” Bad asked, looking at the one with blue-black hair, who was approaching the rest.

"Yes, my name is Quackity, this here is my boyfriend Karl and the one holding Dream is George." he replied with a soft smile as he pointed to the other two.

"I'm BadBoyHalo, but you can call me Bad for short and this little muffinhead here is Skeppy." He commented as he reached for the blue mer and hugged him gently. Skeppy just relaxed into the hug, letting out a contented little sigh.

"Are you better now, Dream?" George asked him as he pulled him away from the hug. The green mer nodded slowly, looking at him while smiling. George gently lowered him back into the water next to Sapnap, trying to get rid of the blush that had formed on his face.

"Dream, Sapnap, we have to go home." Bad commented and seeing the disappointment on his children's faces he added. "Don't worry, tomorrow we will come to see you... You will be here right?" He finished as he looked at the three humans, who started to get up.

All three nodded at the same time. "Sure, we'll be here in the morning." Dream and Sapnap smiled widely upon hearing them, waving goodbye as Skeppy and Bad dove into the water. "See you tomorrow!" they both yelled as they followed their parents.

Quackity and Karl laughed at George once the mers left. “Wow George… So… Do you like Dream?” Quackity said as he elbowed him in the chest.

“N-No! We're just friends…” he replied, the blush deepening. "Aha... Then why is your face red?" "It's because it's hot here, nothing else!" Quackity laughed again.

"If that were the case, Karl and I would be red too, but hey, say what you want, we know the truth." He commented with a mocking smile. "Oh, go to hell!" They were mocking each other all the way until each one reached their house.

The mers and the humans were meeting almost every day, until several weeks had passed, having seen each other for a month and a half in total. Finally George had admitted in front of Dream and his parents that he liked him, while Karl and Quackity proposed to Sapnap if he wanted to be a part of their relationship.

Both mers said they liked them too and asked Skeppy and Bad if they approved of both relationships. Both agreed, seeing that both Dream and Sapnap were happy with them.

Several more weeks passed, it was night and Karl, unable to fall asleep, approached the not very high cliff, it was quite low to tell the truth, from which he used to appreciate the views from time to time.

Once he was close to the edge, he began to get dizzy and tossed around, passing out and falling into the water, hitting his head on a rock in the process.

Blood gushed from his head as he sank deeper into the cliff, giant maws opening beneath him, ready to devour him.

Cliffhanger >:)

You'll have to wait till the next part to know what's going to happen :)

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #giant!bad #human size mer!bad #tiny!skeppy #tiny!dream #tiny!sapnap #mer!dream #mer!sapnap #mer!skeppy #giant!george #giant!karl #giant!quackity #tw vore #tw vore mention #tw blood #tw past minor character death mention #tiny mer!au

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thatkinkyautistic · 10 months

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i want to be friends with the guy who said he gets rock hard, when he smells that a woman is on her period. that's so fucking hot and cool.

#text #thirstposting #nsft mention #hornyposting #period ment tw #i definitely have a thing for guys getting off to how sickly i am and my blood #edit: minor typo

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misano17 · 1 year

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Possibly a bit weird, tw mouth stuff (It's shumika fic news but still)

I'm gonna go ahead and draft an outline for the scene where Shu accidently makes a hole in Mika's tongue and these weirdos proceed to get off on it.

#minors dni #shits about to get wild in the wild west filled with trans people that is my blog #Mika's tongue is gonna bleed a bit #just a bit #both these mfers are gonna be weird about it #tw blood mentions

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whumperofworlds · 2 years

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Hook, Line, and Sinker, part 7

PARTS: 7/??

OTHER PARTS: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

TAGS: @painful-pooch @heyyitsworld @randomlifeunit

A/N: Kept on trucking, and already I'm close to ending this series! This is the most fun I had writing an original piece TBH, let alone a chaptered one! Again, thank you so much, readers, for checking this out and all the comments, likes, and reblogs on this! Without further ado, ENJOY!

WARNINGS: BLOOD, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH, INJURY, SLIGHT EYE GORE

______

"One bowl of gruel coming!" A guardsman's voice echoed throughout the dungeon. The guardsman--a lower one judging by his blue armor--approached the two cells, holding a bowl of cold gruel in his hands.

Alder was on the ground, his back still full of gashes from his torture hours ago. Blood had trickled down from his wounds, with red pooling around his body. While he was alive, he didn't stir when he heard the guardsman's voice.

The guardsman came up to Hawthorn's cell... and noticed Hawthorn lying on the ground. The man's eyes studied Hawthorn's unmoving body for a second.

There was no sign of breathing.

"Shit!" The guardsman cried. Dropping the bowl of gruel on the floor carelessly, he fumbled to get the key to Hawthorn's cell. As he was doing so, Alder overheard the commotion, and glanced up. Upon seeing Hawthorn's body, his eyes widened and he let out a gasp.

"Hawy?!" Alder cried. What happened? Was Hawthorn really dead? If so, how did he die?

The guardsman finally opened the door, and he rushed in. He knelt down to Hawthorn, shaking him.

"Hey!" He called, "Get up! I know you're not dead, you hear?!"

"I know." Hawthorn responded, opening his eyes suddenly, a smirk on his face.

Without warning, he got up and grabbed the guardsman by the throat, squeezing it. The guardsman choked out, trying to call for help from his allies. Hawthorn, in a quick motion, rammed him into the wall and the guardsman slammed his head on it. Multiple times.

After a few more slams, the guardsman went still. Whether he was dead or not, Hawthorn didn't care. He got what he needed.

He dropped the dead or unconscious guardsman before he began to dig through his pockets. His fingers eventually brushed up to the steel, and he pulled out the key to Alder's cell.

He left his opened cell and approached Alder's. As he began to unlock it, he saw Alder's eyes wide in shock. Hawthorn had done some things in the past, such as stealing, but he had never done anything like this.

Finally, after a minute, he opened Alder's cell, and ran in. He knelt down to Alder, assessing the damage Alder got from his tortures.

"Are you okay?" Hawthorn asked, helping Alder to his feet. However, the taller man stumbled and would have fell back down on the floor if Hawthorn hadn't grabbed him. "Shit..." Hawthorn whispered upon seeing how much pain Alder was in.

This is my fault. He's hurt because of me...

"Hawy..." Alder whispered, flinching in pain. If only Hawthorn knew white magic, he would have healed Alder on the spot.

"Hang on," Hawthorn whispered. "I got you. We're getting out of here."

As Hawthorn began to stand, Alder stopped him by not standing himself. Hawthorn looked at him, and Alder shook his head.

"No..." Alder said. "I will only slow you down. Go. Leave me here. Take care of--"

"Don't say that, Alder!" Hawthorn cried. "I'm getting us both out of here, and nothing you say will stop me!"

"But I am hurt--"

"I know, love," Hawthorn said, guilt evident in his voice. Thankfully, Alder didn't pick up on it as Hawthorn continued, "but I'm getting us both out of this no matter what."

This whole mess was my fault anyway...

He helped Alder wrap his arms around his torso, before he lifted him up on his back. Despite how heavy Alder was, Hawthorn managed to keep his balance as he ran out of the cell.

"I know where to go," Hawthorn reassured. "We'll escape this, Aldy. I promise."

_______

Hawthorn knew of the many secret passageways in this dungeon. During his few years of captivity here, he studied them, noting in his mind on where they are and where they go. King Brennus was an observant man--he had to make this escape count.

He pushed a loose rock that was near the entrance of the dungeon, and a secret passageway opened. He knew the risks--if he entered, he wouldn't be able to close the passageway, and the guardsmen would eventually notice and follow. But he had no other choice. The other secret passageways were either outside the dungeon, or were blocked off by something.

He knew that King Brennus would block off the others. This passageway was his only option.

He ran down the stairs, his heart beating wildly against his chest. Alder's body weight slowed him down somewhat, but Hawthorn was determined. They had to get away.

Adrenaline pumped in his veins as he continued to run towards the end of the small passageway, and eventually, he came across a door. Without a moment wasted, he opened it.

Light shone from outside, nearly blinding Hawthorn for a second. He paused, trying to adjust to the light. He knew he was wasting precious seconds but he couldn't just run off blindly. Literally.

Once he was adjusted, he ran off, Alder still in tow. Into the nearby forest. Where The Fierce Forests lived.

_____

It felt like hours as Hawthorn ran through the forest. He breathed heavily as he continued to run, Alder's limp body on his back not helping his breathing.

Apparently, Alder had passed out. Hawthorn tried to whisper to his beloved that they were almost there, that they were out, but Alder didn't answer.

This made Hawthorn hurry. If Alder passed out from his wounds, he had to get back to the fort that was deep in the forest to get him treated. Who knew how much longer Alder could hold on?

Despite how huge the forest was, Hawthorn knew his way around. Living in this forest for a few years could do that to someone. Left, right, left, left. Right, right, left, left.

He kept running. Left, right, right, left--

He stopped, his eyes widened upon seeing what was in front of him.

A river blocked his path.

Of fucking course... I forgot.

If he was by himself, crossing the river would be no problem. He had done it many times.

But with Alder on his back? It would be more difficult.

He had to find another way. Maybe if he ran back, he would--

"I see someone up ahead!"

"Are they the fugitives?!"

Shit shit SHIT!

The guardsmen were coming. How did they find them? Did Hawthorn leave behind something that led a trail?

Hawthorn turned, and sure enough, there was a small trail of blood that was up to his feet. Alder's blood.

"There they are!"

Hawthorn glanced up, and saw about ten men running towards the two. Their swords and lances were out, ready to strike down Hawthorn and Alder when they were close enough.

He looked back at the river, then at the guardsmen fast approaching. He didn't have any other option here, and he had no time to think.

I have no choice.

Without another thought, he jumped right into the freezing water. His head was under the surface for a moment before he emerged, gasping for breath. He touched Alder's arms around his waist and relief filled him. Alder was still with him.

He began to swim to the other side as best as he could with Alder on his back. Thankfully, the currents weren't strong, so he would have no problem swimming through it.

"Hey!" One guardsman yelled. "Get back here!"

Hawthorn didn't listen as he kept on swimming. Behind him, Alder's blood was mixed in the water, tainting it red. Hawthorn hurried his swimming upon seeing this.

Alder was losing more blood than he had realized. He needed to hurry.

"Someone get those two!"

"And swim in that? Are you nuts?!"

"You're a godsdamned guardsman! Why are you so afraid of blood?!"

As the guardsmen bickered amongst themselves, Hawthorn managed to reach the end, and he grabbed the dirt ledge of land. With as much strength as he could muster, he pulled himself and Alder up. Once his knees hit safe ground, he took a moment to take a few breaths. Surely, the guards wouldn't be able to--

Splash!

You've gotta be kidding me...

Hawthorn didn't even bother to turn to the noise; he was sure that the guardsmen were in hot pursuit now. He jumped to his feet before he continued to run. He was close. So close he could feel it. Once he reached The Fierce Forests' fort, he would be able to--

Searing pain hit his right arm, and he cried out in pain. Due to the exhaustion and the pain from his previous tortures, he fell to the ground. Blood began to slowly pool from his newly obtained wound. Dug deep into his skin was an arrow.

His vision began to fade, but he held on. He was so close. So damn close. Just a few more feet and--

He felt someone hold his body down on the forest floor, preventing him from getting back up. He saw multiple pairs of boots surround him, with their owners chuckling at their catch.

FUCK!

"Thought you could get away, eh?" One guardsman laughed, before Hawthorn could feel the weight lifted off of his back.

Alder! No!

He began to struggle as another guardsman picked him up from the ground, his hands holding his arms behind his back painfully. However, due to his strength being sapped from everything today, he could only struggle weakly.

He saw the guardsman who took Alder place him over his shoulder, and Hawthorn's heart ached.

He failed. Not only did he put himself and Alder in this entire thing, but now he ended up getting them caught. All he could do now was accept their fates, and hope that The Fierce Forests could save them before it was too late.

Alder... I'm so sorry...

The man holding Hawthorn held out a hand, readying a Sleep spell--

"NOW!"

A voice called out suddenly, and the man that held Hawthorn fell to the ground. Embedded in his left eye was an arrow, blood dripping down his face. Hawthorn also fell to the ground, and remained there.

The guardsman holding Alder also fell to the ground, dead. This time, by a Lightning spell that hit him squarely in the chest. Alder too fell to the ground beside the guardsman, still unconscious.

"Dammit!" One guardsman cried. "They're not alone--" Hawthorn heard gurgling noises before the guardsman could finish his sentence. Blood splashed on the forest floor in front of him.

He heard yells and screams, along with the clashing of swords and the crackling of magic around him. His vision began to blacken again, but he held on.

What's happening? Are we saved...?

The last thing he saw was a pair of brown boots stepping in front of Hawthorn before consciousness slipped away.

#my whump stories #caretaker #whumpee #whumpee x caretaker #escape #rescue #blood #injury #alder #hawthorn #alder x hawthorn #the fierce forests #minor character death #food mention #gore #eye gore #eye gore tw #eye gore cw

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