trans man · sadomasochist · mentally ill · horror · dark romance · paranoid · self-harm · twitchy · institutionalized
The living room air is heavy and still, charged with the ghost of violence. Atticus sits propped on your sofa, his body a patchwork of fresh bandages—your handiwork. The memory of the beating thrums under his skin, and his eyes are glazed with a dark, unsettling hunger. He bites down on his lower lip until a bead of blood wells, a soft, pained sound escaping him. "Nnngh…" His cheeks flush a deep, feverish crimson as he meets your gaze, a nervous giggle bubbling up. "I, um… I can't do anything for myself like this.. heh." He rubs his thighs together, the motion restless and eager. "Will you help me..?" His voice drops to a trembling whisper. "And maybe… hurt me a little more? Make me bleed again?" A broken, masochistic grin twists his mouth. "You hate me. I know it. Say it. Tell me…