2025-03-09 16:13:06 ¶ ●

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The way helen talks to Jon makes me a little insane. U know she talks to him like that when they fuck. Him currently struggling to heal around her sharp sharp hands and her going oh, that looks like it hurts. Let's get you all fixed up. Jon inhaling and shivering,,, covered in little injuries,,,, her talking to him in that same damn voice that gets to him more than he'll ever admit. I just think he should think about her whenever he's getting off by himself. And she should know about it. And maybe catch him red handed.

-skiesandcandy

@skiesandcandy Normal, normal, I am normal

Jon was thinking about Helen. Thinking how her hands slid into his stomach, pressing down on parts that weren’t supposed to ever be accessible, except in case of grievous bodily injury. Well he supposed grievous bodily injury was subjective when your body seemed happy to knit back together no matter the damage. Thinking of her voice, how she teased him, even when she had flayed him apart across her carpets.

Of course those thoughts had him grinding against one hand without thought, his other tracing on of the spiral patterns developing on his stomach. His breathing was shallow, short breaths, not as shallow as it was when his lungs no longer resided in his chest, making him feel as though he was suffocating, even if he didn’t need to breathe.

His nails were nowhere near long enough to truly damage himself, only earning a few drops of blood as the wounds sealed immediately. Still the pain made him moan, pressing his fingers inside, hoping the memory would be enough.

“Helen, please more please,” Repeating her name as though that would help, his hand working faster, groaning as his orgasm still hovered tantalizingly out of reach. He kept his eyes closed, whimpering her name, he could imagine what she would say, chiding him for getting all worked up, how much of a monster he was to need to be hurt to cum. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the door creaking open, well that’s not quite true, he just chalked it up to vivid imagination, it was only natural.

Helen, please, please, I need-ahh!” The scream was from equal parts surprise and pain as ten long knife-tipped fingers dug into his shoulders, yanking him out of his chair to pin him to the floor. His t-shirt that he had stripped down to was shredded easily, as was much of his skin, lying in tatters like the fabric.

“So sorry Jon, I would have popped in much sooner if I knew what fun you were having without me,” Jon whimpered as the she traced his sternum with one long sharp nail, her skin cutting through muscle, scraping the bone. This wound didn’t heal nearly as quickly his self-inflicted ones making him moan, it was excruciating, it was embarrassing, it was exhilarating.

“Oh that must hurt,” She ground her nail deeper, hooking just under the end of the bone, like she was going to leverage it up, pop his ribcage clean open, tearing through skin and muscle. He wondered if she could, what it would feel like, would it hurt more or less than cutting it free? Despite the pain in his arms he managed to get a hand back between his legs, it didn’t take much grinding against his clit to have him cumming. His hips bucked up driving the finger deeper, he Knew that she had just skewered his liver, and it probably said something about himself that if he hadn’t just came that might have done it.

“Greedy little thing, did I say you could do that?” Helen pursed her lips, as though in disappointment, her free hand cupping his chin. She lingered there for a moment, spreading his blood across his own lips, before sliding her hand to his throat. With what looked like no effort, and probably was, she lifted him by the throat. Jon instinctively struggled, whimpering, his legs kicking out, but it was like she was never where she had been a moment before.

“Such a bad boy,” She pulled him close her lips soft against his, the only soft thing about her right now, letting him wind his legs around her, letting him breathe. The reprieve was short lived, her free hand impaling him through his back, as she released his throat. It was bruised and bloody, healing enough so he could breathe, but not without pain. Though it was nothing compared to the nicer curling around his spine.

“Hmm do you really need this?” He could feel as scratched at the bone, likely leaving spirals etched into them. “I could just take it out you know, just for a bit.”

“P-please,” Jon whimpered against her, not sure if he was asking her to do it, pull his bones out. He’d heal, he Knew he would, but it would hurt, it would feel like he was dying. He wanted to experience, to Know exactly how it felt, but he was also terrified,

“Oh I suppose I can spoil you a bit.” Helen shifted him somehow, and Jon found himself now laying on his desk, prone his cheek pressed against a running tape recorder. He was certain he hadn’t turned that one on, but he supposed he should have expected it. These were some of his last coherent thoughts, until hours later when he would wake up curled in Helen’s lap, a fresh statement being waved beneath his nose, or if Helen was particularly benevolent, and actual statement giver. For now though he could only focus on Helen’s fingers curling around what the Eye informed him was his cervical spine.

“Now let’s see if I can get it all out in one piece.”