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fastboatsmojito · 3 months ago

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🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Six - Knife Kink 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; switched around a few days on the schedule because this has been marinating since September and driving me crazy <3

Promptober schedule here!

| cw; 18+ smut btc, please please be safe, this is fiction!!! Knife play obviously, only Halloween-y because of the weather, afab! Gn reader, degradation, Scott being mean and nasty, a little dacryphilia, a splash of hair pulling, size kink if you squint, slapping (once), he talks to you like a bad dog for a second my fault, no mention of condoms - b safe !! Matching each others FREAK

| wc; 1,666 <3

He’s doing it again, pulling the folding knife out of its meticulous place in his pocket and sliding it open in the seat next to you. He never used it unless he had to but you saw it often enough for it to make your head spin, and without fail anytime it was out your eyes were glued to it.

To his fingers gripping the handle with more care than was usual for him, it was hard to look away when that attentive, analytical side of him came out.

This time simply for the invisible-to-anyone-that-isn’t-a-clean-freak string attached to the hem of his shirt, cutting it off quick and clean as you stared, eyes locked on the silver tucked between his fingers.

He looked up at you as you dazed, low voice finally emerging you out of your brain.

“Why do you do that?” He asked simply, watching you blankly as you froze.

“Do what?” You weren’t completely sure what he was asking, blindly hoping that the way his hand slightly twitched around the knife in his grasp wasn’t a sign he could suddenly read your mind and every filthy thought encompassing it.

“Stare at me like that every time I use this.” He’s carefully pointing the blade at you now, eyes following it before landing back on your own. He doesn’t sound mad but he might as well be the way you’re shifting in your seat like he’s scolding you.

“I don’t-“ You shake your head, scrambling to find the words that just won’t come out, he’s being frustratingly direct and it’s only adding to the familiar ache you tend to feel around him.

“Don’t lie. Just answer the question.”

“I just, um-“ Your eyes moved to your hands as you spoke, the eye contact suddenly too intense to handle.

“I think it’s kinda hot- when you use it.” Your words were pressed against each other, coming out just above a whisper as you anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh.

“Use…” You sighed as he pushed you to say exactly what you meant, your face heating up at his suggestive tone.

“Your knife.” You look up only after you say it, subconsciously pressing your thighs together as he examined your every reaction, pausing even the movement of his jaw to observe your own.

His hand still holding the knife paired with his stern voice and intense stare was quickly turning you into a puddle, and it wasn’t not obvious.

“Right.” He nodded simply, gauging your reaction. Everything seemingly frozen in time resumed, the stationary gum in his mouth back to keeping him focused, his fingers pushing the knife closed before shoving it back into his pocket.

For a second you were scared he thought it was gross, shamefully watching as he opened his car door to get out. Half expecting him to call you a fucking freak, and he usually would, but you figured he was either into it as much as you were or uncharacteristically sparing your feelings to use it against you later.

He sighed at your uncomforted expression and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt before getting out and walking over to open your door.

“Come on.” He tilted his head towards the motel rooms just behind him, reassuringly placing a hand on the back of your neck as he guided you into his room.

——

It wasn’t long before you were on the bed under him as he sat on his knees between your open legs, gasping when he flicked the knife open and rested it just under the hem of your underwear.

The quiet pattering of the rain against the windows and the lull of your shared heartbeats kept you just grounded enough to not slip all the way into your head.

Into the steady chill outside that was cut off by the door, and brought back in again through the cool blade lying on your skin. Into the comfort in knowing that you were safe even with the unavoidable threat of something so sharp against something so fragile.

It felt suffocating in the same way your head gets fuzzy when you go just a few seconds too long underwater, an agonizing instinct to pull yourself back up and a louder, sharper, sicker need to see how long you can stay under.

“I won’t hurt you on purpose but you have to be still, okay?” Your eyes were stuck on the smooth silver, humming when his other hand moved to the nape of your neck, pulling your hair just enough to bring your now tear-brimmed eyes back to him.

“I mean it. Don’t need you bleeding out all over the bed, got it?” You nodded until the hand still gripping your hair tightened.

“I got it, I trust you.” You both knew you meant it, you’d be scared if anyone else held your life in their hands like this but this is Scotty - a nickname he’d only ever let leave your mouth - he was always so precise and observant, you knew you had no real reason to be worried.

“I know.” The hand behind your head suddenly soothing, the dull side of the knife slowly dragging down your leg as he leaned in to kiss you. It was soft, sweet, everything you knew he wasn’t about to be and you basked in it, always savoring every second of sweetness he spared before giving you what you really wanted - what you needed.

You whined when he pulled away anyway, desperation falling over you as he took his time, hand behind your head moving down to your hip to keep you still as he moved the tip of the knife to your inner thigh.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was about to do but even in the low lit room you could see the faintest smile on his face. Every move he made felt calculated, like he’d planned every second of it in his head days before.

He gripped your waist tighter before he tipped the knife down so the width of it was just against the wet spot on the fabric between your legs, closely watching the way your mouth fell open at the sudden cold.

The silver gift you got for him - that he swore he wouldn’t wear out of the house - fell out from his black undershirt, glistening against his neck. Your hands moved from the bed either side of you to appreciate the jewelry you knew he’d look good in - he wasn’t always great at talking about how he felt but he knew just well enough how to show it.

He carefully brought the knife away from you and lightly trailed it all the way up your body, over every part of you it could reach, finally drawing over your collarbone before slowly creeping back down again.

You lost count of just how many times he’d done it - you couldn’t possibly be wetter and he couldn’t possibly care less - admiring the soft pleas falling from your mouth, knife-less hand now on the side of your face as his thumb wiped away the tears of frustration pouring out of you.

“Scott, please-“ You begged for what felt like the millionth time, he was clearly enjoying tantalizing you, sighing and pulling back and finally bringing his hands to drag the ruined fabric down and off of you.

You pouted when he closed the knife and set it down on the bed, shaking his head and pointing a finger at you when you moved to sit up.

“Stay.” He said firmly, bed creaking just so as he stood up to free himself from his pants, eyes focused on your own as you waited on him. He could do this for hours and he had, letting you whine and beg and cry for it first. He wouldn’t this time, noticeably impatient as he resumed his previous position over you.

Before you could ask - or more accurately beg, he sat down on the bed, head resting against the headboard before signaling for you to come up with two fingers. He promptly grabbed your hips so you were sitting on his lap before reaching for the closed knife once again.

Your bare cunt was situated on the bulge under you, your hands planted on your thighs. He wrapped the still-closed knife wielding hand around you to lift you up, lazily pulling his dick out with the other. It was irritating how easy it was for him, so casually showing off his strength when you were alone.

He covered himself in the slick dripping out of you, groaning when he swiftly sat you down on him, keeping you motionless over him with a hand at your waist.

He flipped open the knife with his other hand away from you, undeniably feeling you clench around him when he finally brought the cold blade up to your skin again. He had the perfect view in this position, enough control over where his hands were precisely placed to keep you safe even with a knife at your throat.

“I knew you were far from innocent, sweetheart, but this is really fucked up.” You barely heard it over the rain that was rapidly hitting the windows. Ignoring the filthily mocked nickname and filthier implication, you let go of the breath you’d been holding since you confessed your dirty little secret.

His sharp comment finally leaving his mouth and taking with it all of the worry running through you that, even while literally inside of you, he’d think less of you for it.

You were practically just cockwarming at this point, pawing at his chest to try and convince him to fucking move already. You knew he’d be moving your hips for you soon but you complained anyway.

Rolling your eyes and hastily circling your hips at his seeming lack of urgency, earning yourself a cautionarily soft slap on the cheek.

“You’re mean.” You cried, almost throwing your head back in protest before he held the blade under your chin to keep you steady in place.

“Careful. Thought I told you not to move. Be good and stay still for me so I don’t have to explain to everyone that you asked for this, yeah?”

<333