that fat femme wants to be manhandled by the way! that fat femme wants to be groped and grabbed and maybe even slapped around a bit!! make a fat femmeâs dreams come true and touch her inappropriately now!!!!
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Idea: Murkoff keeps multiple nude photos of all the Reagents from their personal files for blackmail or whatever. So they decided to fuck with the Reader by using their nudes in place of the propaganda posters in the trials. Could u pls write the Yan!PAs reaction to that.
The devil made me do it, but I also kind of wanted to.
Murkoff is an odd company. You knew they encouraged the Prime Assets' behavior; the sexual sadism was overbearing when it came to any trial. You couldnât stand the words they said to you, the sounds theyâd made watching you writhe in pain, the way theyâd grind against their own palms to relieve themselves. It was too much for you. You hadnât gone back into a trial environment for days, simply laying in your cell, only leaving for showers, meals, and checkups. Thatâs when the doctors got you. They kept pushing you for an answer to your lack of trial participation, and you finally gave in and allowed them to know about how the Prime Assets had started to act. The checkup ended and you finally brought yourself to enter a trial environment.Â
The pictures of you hanging around the trial environment you never remembered being taken. They were artistic renditions like the ones you had collected before, but the sight made you scared. One was of your sleeping face smeared with mysterious fluids with the line âFor beautyâs sakeâ in a weirdly romantic font, another of you holding someone's arm as their hand snuck between your legs saying, âStay in your trusted positionâ, and another one of you kneeling by a religious shrine as you drew one of the figurines between your thighs with the line âRemember how to worship correctlyâ. There had to have been over fifteen of those posters around, and you knew they were all so perfectly made for the disgusting animals that wanted to keep you in a little birdcage forever.Â
Coyleâs behavior while you were gone was terribly embarrassing to witness. He obviously was missing you to some degree. He was more aggressive, both physically and sexually; heâd treat the reagents worse and shock himself more. He got worse with the doctors (if that was even possible) and heâd increasingly voice against them before they drugged him. When the times are at their toughest, Coyle is finally given the posters and thatâs when he starts to believe that itâs the universe telling him that the way he treats you was God-given. He mistreats you because God says so, because Murkoff says so.Â
When you finally go back into one of his trials, heâs going to be so much worse. Coyle will spend his time catcalling you, groping you before electrocuting you, and yelling about how you lack a âmark of the lawâ to show that youâve been properly rehabilitated. Heâs going to rub the posters in your face to remind you that youâre a whore for a man like him. When youâre not in direct contact with each other, like when youâre trying to find the generator, heâll start speaking into the darkness to remind you that you were made to be disrespected by him.Â
Gooseberry hasnât been the same sing-songy woman like before. Sheâs very brainwashed from the drugs and electroshock but she knows the differences in the feeling of the reagents in her arms. She knows it's not you. Sheâs obviously more irritable; she yells more, Futtermanâs confused about where you went too, and she feels lonelier. Sheâll mumble to herself saying that she misses your beauty, fear, and body. Mother Gooseberry wonât be hostile towards the doctors, unlike the others; sheâs too deep into Stockholm Syndrome to do that, but she misses you so deeply. Much of the posters set around her trial environment is meant to keep her spirits high, as she grew a habit of swinging between being too aggressive or not aggressive enough.Â
Gooseberryâs reaction to the posters is pretty different from Coyleâs. Sheâs a hedonistic lady; sheâs going to adore the idea that your interpretation of love, religion, and beauty is dependent on pure pleasure. She doesnât care if it comes into play with the orphanage, sheâs making them do coke, sex isnât her biggest problem. Either way, sheâs going to spend so much time collecting the posters and giggling about how beautiful your bare flesh is, like a schoolgirl with a magazine with their celebrity crush on the cover. Gooseberryâs also going to spend time talking to Dr. Futterman about the gleam in your eye that she claims only comes with orgasmic pleasure. She will 100% believe the posters are the way you fully view pleasure. The incessant, almost fetishistic, way they show your open mouth and bare pelvis will make her believe that the softness of your body was deserving of her touch and Futtermanâs drill. Sheâll keep switching between the idea that sheâs simply crushing on you, giggling at the thought that you would simply kiss her cheek, and how she needs to teach you how to be good, how to properly feel pleasure and how to be punished.Â
During the trial with Mother Gooseberry, sheâs going to spend so much of her time trying to get you back to her. The millisecond she realizes that the reagent in her trial environment is you; sheâs over the moon. She puts the posters all around to try impressing you on her love for you, but as time goes on, her behavior starts to switch to a more authoritarian state. If youâre getting through the tasks quicker than usual or in a way she doesnât find favorable, sheâll start muttering about how you simply donât understand why youâre fighting from her and that she needs to get you and show you all her love. Dr. Futterman will encourage her to get you too, heâll go on and on about how youâre a stupid slut that needs all their cavities taken care of. She will take that as a good sign too; a father approving of his daughterâs love is something sheâs only ever seen in film, and she adores it.Â
Francoâs probably the worst in terms of sexual treatment. Heâs already pent up enough with you in the trial when heâs not trying to grope you, so you not being there at all is like a starving dog thinking of a T-bone steak. He wants you so badly and youâre nowhere to be seen. Franco will harvest more teeth from the reagents, even trying to take some from the living, heâs yelling more, and heâs demanding at random for you to get back into the trial environments because he knows that none of the reagents are you. He knows your shape and smell and fear. So, the posters were more so a protection opportunity for the scientists, as he began trying to shoot them whenever he could.Â
If you took a black light to any of the posters in Francoâs trials, the entire thing would glow neon blue. That man jerks off to all your posters whenever he can, in fact, he collects new posters when the old ones begin to deteriorate. He was the one that got the most excited for the posters. The ones for his environment show you covered in marker words spelling out the greatness of your body parts, arrows pointing to your sex, your arms covered in track marks, your smile that of someone obviously high. Franco adores the love in your half-lidded eyes; it lets him fantasize about you taking advantage of him or how youâd look so beautiful if he were to perform well for you. He loves that the posters feed into his specific fantasies and now he no longer must use his imagination for anything.Â
Franco is extra gropey during the trials. Heâs so happy that youâre back and no matter your gender, heâs going to moan and squeal about how glad he is that mommyâs home. Heâll intentionally hang up the posters he had used to getting off to make you grab and see them; he wants you to know how you make him feel. Franco will aim for your legs more often to try keeping you down so he can possibly get some time alone with you. Heâs not always going to be as gross as possible though; heâll go on and on about how he just wants to get to know you and that he only wants to get a drink. How sweet!Â
Otto and Aroraâs behavior became more irritable. They gain a habit of making more rude comments towards the ex-pop and keep making jokes about how the doctors arenât as good at their job as they think because you havenât gotten into the trial. They donât argue with each other as you would think, but they constantly are talking about missing you, Arora voicing how sad she feels without your presence and Otto comforting her by sharing his own loneliness. Something the Kress Twins do that the other Prime Assets donât is constantly preparing. Theyâre getting ready to see you again, constantly perfecting the ingredients in the vials, making sure they wonât make you too sick but arenât too weak to let you fight back against them. They also are always trying to become more physically appealing to you, combing their hair, fixing their clothes, creating new perfumes/colognes to make sure theyâre constantly at their best just in case you come back into their lives with some intense desire for them to guide you down the right path. Itâs only the burden of their class.Â
Otto and Aroraâs reaction to the posters is very âI hate itâ. Theyâre going to see it for the first time and fully believe itâs the most disgusting vile thing to do to a pure soul like you. Theyâll go into the viewing with the belief that you are being defiled, held against your will by the doctors that mistreat them too. You didnât mean to pose like that; you were being forced! You couldnât possibly like something like that... even if part of them like fantasizing about it too. Their posters are of you covered in jewelry and sheets of fabric saying something like âTo protect freedomâ. When theyâre analyzing the posters of you, Arora spends most of her time mocking the nudity and color of jewels presented on you, while Otto is spending his time reminding her of the artistic beauty of you sprawled out like that. She thinks itâs a direct mockery of their class too; itâs not artistically put together; the jewels look fake, and itâs obviously a mockery of Ottoâs interests! How disgusting! They canât let you know these posters exist at all and need to make sure you never go down a path like that.Â
The trials themselves are worse. The separation has made them more alert on where you are, almost all objectives lead to you getting sick more times than necessary. It gets gross, but they wonât feel bad about it. Arora will keep making excuses as to why your sickness is justified. Well, theyâve missed you so much, and those things happening to you are like playing tag when the tagger takes short cuts to get to the others. They only need to get a leg up to finally give you the good treatment they always planned. Theyâll mumble on about how much effort theyâve put into themselves, how excited both are to see you, and if you think they look as good as they feel. When it comes to the finale of the trial, thatâs when their worst behavior comes out. Otto is reprimanding you for forcing your hand in a way thatâs disgusting while Arora is yelling at him to keep going to find you.Â
Liliyaâs loneliness was barely noticeable; she was used to it. Her time spent in the snow with only her own words and what she believed to be divinity. The victims in Despoil the Auction got most of the harm. Her voice was louder; she commanded them to hurt themselves more often, knowing they couldnât. She starts to believe that Murkoff itself is doing something to hold back her divinity and to keep you from her. She hates the predicament sheâs in now, she wants the freedom she had before in her resort out in Russia, deep in the snow with her followers, but now sheâs stuck in a fake place trying to spread the word of her messiah to people that donât have ears to hear. You would have listened though; she knew you would. Youâre nowhere to be seen, and the anger of your disappearance leads to the mistreatment of the doctors. More of them reported having migraines and sudden thoughts of self-mutilation and harm. So, when they set up the posters, those issues all of a sudden stopped. When the posters started popping up, her disdain towards Murkoff would start to become less prominent.Â
The reaction to the posters is a very religious one. Liliyaâs sexual behavior is all over the place, considering her sadomasochistic words and more likely heavy conservatism growing up in a religious orphanage in the middle of nowhere Russia. Her posters are similar to the âRemember how to worship correctlyâ poster, itâs all of you laying in the snow, your body obviously deteriorating from the cold, the white flurries drenched in red at your own harm, while you ground against what seemed to be one of Liliyaâs religious symbols. She views it as a direct gift to her; your body is hers to consume, as if you were the most prized jewel in the land. She likes that the posters give her a sense of power; sheâs divine, so naturally youâre meant to be hers. The nudity itself isnât seen as sexual in her eyes, as your body is a gift that needs to be carved from its stone. Grinding on the symbol is where the perception of sexuality is obvious. Part of her doesnât like the idea that youâre indulging so greedily in the holy figure associated with her, and part of her thinks itâs hot. So, it all leads to her believing that you need to be guided down a proper path to know how greedy you are for doing that at all. Sheâs a hypocritical amalgamation really.Â
During trials with Liliya, sheâs going to spend all her time trying to remind you that Murkoff approves her divine position above you. She wonât tear down any posters of you; she wants you to find them, in fact, needs you to. Sheâll go as far as to wrap some of the mannequins' parts in the ripped-up posters to let you know she knows the positions you have put yourself in. The hunt for you is not just simply stopping you from destroying the Lot, but rather her wanting to get the opportunity to punish you for your lack of dignity. Her calls are more about your damnation instead of just giving to her and her religion. Youâre going to experience the worst of the worst because you couldnât keep your legs closed. Sheâll guide you back to divinity, donât worry.Â
to the rescue, again?âđâËâč⥠age gap relationship leon s. kennedy/ reader hcs
both nsfw and sfw hcs to drabble. explicit. (nsfw under the read more)
cw: đïž dead dove + dubcon in the nsfw section. made with re9!leon in mind, age gap relationship - he's in his 50s and reader is in her late 20s, so all the taboo that comes with THAT, possessive tendencies from leon, he follows you around, degradation, breathplay. reader gets wasted and leon 'coincidentally' finds her, car sex while drunk (only reader is drunk). AFAB! reader, use of fem terms of endearment. this is so gross, sorry guys omg. he still does aftercare he isnt a monster. happy ending!
a/n: idk what to say guys this is just horny smut thats it. something something older man something something sedate me? i don't condone this shit irl, just fantasy. or if its consenual then fuck yeah how does it feel to live my dream?
asks are open! [link] divider by @ cursed-carmine
SFW
Calls you names like 'angel' 'sweet love' 'baby', and relishes how you react to each, a blush dusting your cheeks as you process his words. There's something about this older man that boys your age can't give you. Protection, stability, that tight feeling in your chest.
You'll never have to drive again, amen. Leon will take you where you need to go or at least send a trusted driver your way. (That government agent money is nooo joke.)
Leon would have one hand on the steering wheel, the other making for a protective touch on your thigh. He's sooo attentive to you, making notes of billboards you take a second glance at, turning up the radio when he hears you start to sing along to it, ugh. Swooon.
You tell your close friends all about Leon. They giggle with you over drinks, saying how lucky you are. This shit was straight out of those trashy books y'all read. A gruff older man built like a weapon and just as deadly? But has a soft spot only for youuuu? Hello.
Speak of the devil, he comes out of the kitchen right as your friends are teasing you. Leon's clad in a shirt too damn tight for his own good, and pecks your cheek for them all to see. He'll bring you all more of that wine you're sharing before retreating to your shared room.
Is a tad paranoid with you working. Why would you want to bust your ass all day for money when he makes more than enough for you both? You and Leon may have gotten into some petty arguments about it before, but he always makes it up to you.
He apologizes with flowers, your favorite candies, oddly - that necklace you were eyeing last girls' night - how did he know that? Your lover says it's just a coincidence, that he knows you best.
Lately, there's been more weird 'coincidences' like that one. You were way too drunk for your own well-being, another night out with your girls. They all split in favor of an uber, and you stay behind. The bar was playing your favorite music, you couldn't just leave! (Drunk you didn't make the best choices.)
The club was tight, stuffy, you're stumbling and bumping into people more than you'd like. You decide on getting some fresh air, maybe a walk would help you sober up? Great idea.
You grab your things and exit the club. The cold air of the night feels great on your skin. You're dressed in a tight halter top, neckline nonexistent. (Leon hated that shirt, it drew attention to your tits. He didn't blame you for it, rather all the perverts who think they have a chance with a pretty young thing like you. Makes him feel like the dirty old man he is.)
(Continued, NSFW under the cut.)
NSFW - drabble
You stagger down the streets, ignorant of the glances men are giving you. Anyone with eyes can see you're wasted. You're a walking target, babe.
You're not aware of a lot of things. Where were you going? You didn't know, now you find yourself out of the clubbing district. The streets aren't as bright as they used to be, just buildings upon buildings with their lights out.
You were also not aware of the black car that's been trailing you for at least ten minutes or more - headlights off, of course.
Leon had been 'in the area.' Oh, who are we kidding? He's following you again, just like he does every night you go out with your friends.
You finally notice him as he honks. "Asshole." You spit out, quickly stopping to let the car pass.
It doesn't, instead the Porsche's driverside window rolls down to reveal your stalker. "Harsh, but okay."
"Leon! Oh, baby I am so happy to see you." You take back your curse from earlier, feeling relieved to see his face. He always comes to your rescue! You see him as a guardian angel, still unaware of his repeated stalking. It isn't fate, this shit is on purpose. Calculated. Practiced.
You almost trip on the way to the window. Leaning into the opening, you give your older boyfriend a clear view of your cleavage. (With the way the shirt splits, it's more than just cleavage. It's a miracle your nipples are still covered, saving you some decency in your drunken state.)
You look like a hooker trying to pick up a customer - have some class.
He gives you a disarming smile, but his words are anything but. "Get in the fucking car. Now."
You don't remember fumbling to the passenger seat, but you sure can hear the scolding you're getting.
"I'm way too old for this shit. Picking you up, drunk off your ass in-" He inhales sharply, the hand on your thigh starting to grip you harder. "In god knows where... wearing that."
You don't hate his scoldings. Hell, you'd be lying if it didn't make you a little hot. You've got issues, but who doesn't?
"M'sorry." You slur your words, pulling up your shirt self-consciously.
"Fuck that, you're ready to show your body for everyone at that club, but now..." Leon removes the hand from your thigh and tugs down your shirt, ripping the cheap fabric down the middle. You're exposed, leaving you in that tight skirt and your plunging bra.
You yelp, too shocked by his actions to ask how he knew you were at a club. He was working today, you didn't have a chance to tell him your plans.
"Why don't you take off that bra, angel." The older man eyes you from the car mirror. You felt small, not all in the moment mentally. Like you've got yourself in big trouble, that tightness in your chest when you'd walk to the principal's office.
Your hands find your head, the buzz from the alcohol becoming too much. You're going to get carsick, fast.
Like Leon could give a fuck right now. He doesn't ask you a second time, taking initative to flick the front closure of your bra open. He takes a nipple and tugs.
It isn't until you threaten to throw up all over his car's expensive interior that Leon finds a place to pull over. It was some backroad shoulder, looks right out of a horror movie. You wouldn't feel safe if it wasn't for your boyfriend - ironically.
Such a nice car parked in a place like this. No matter, Leon can handle it if some shady individuals dare to try him right now. He wouldn't be opposed to blowing someone's brains out for intruding on you two.
You're both in the back seat, but this is Leon Kennedy we're dealing with - he's got a gun under the seat. Loaded, safety off. The thought stirs another fucked up fantasy in his mind, but he puts a pin in it for now. Wait, when did you two get in the back? This is bad, your memories are blending together.
You're in Leon's lap now, facing him. You've long lost your bra and what was left of your shirt. You wince at the feeling of his gloved hands on your thighs. Looks like you're down to your panties.
Your head... your head. It's reeling. It's as if someone hit you square between the eyes. Leon mumbles something along the lines of 'punishment fitting the crime.' You lean against the back of the driver's seat.
"Stay with me, angel." Leon won't let you sleep. He pinches your nipple harshly as he did earlier, turning his hand slightly to the left. You hiss as the pleasure stings into familiar pain. You cry out, you're awake.
"Awake.." You pant, struggling to remain conscious.
Your mind is clouded over, drunk. Leon's painfully hard in his pants at the scene, his pretty little thing all malleable and helpless. He just had to come rescue you. You never know what kind of sick perverts are out there. (Or in this car with you.)
"Anyone could have come and picked you right off the curb." Leon's lecturing you again, the grip on your plush thighs becomes painful. You'll see bruises tomorrow - damn, he was strong for his age. "Would you like some random man groping you like this? Huh?"
You want to argue with him, to tell him that you're more careful than that - responsible. Truth is, if Leon hadn't been threatening the other man following you? You'd be in that exact situation. To think of it, you did hear a large 'thud' at some point in your drunken stroll.
Your lover makes quick work of your panties, you think you see him stuff them in his jacket.
He doesn't care to take off his gloves, shoving two covered fingers up your cunt. The stretch is instant, painful - it burns. You almost forgot this was a punishment. You try to squirm out of his iron grip, to no avail.
"Nuh.. nah.. hurts." You drool out your words, "Stah..."
Your protests are lost on the older man. Even as you stand - as far as you can while still straddling him - he keeps up the brutal pace.
"You're going to learn this lesson, sober or not. That's not my fucking problem you drank too much." Leon's speaking at you, knowing you're too far gone to be spoken to.
Sobbing, you're not going anywhere. You're trapped in this earned hell. You're bracing yourself against the ceiling of the luxury car, tears falling down onto your lover's lap. Still glad to see him?
His free hand wipes the tears from your face, smudging your makeup in the process. The leather glove stinks of - what you didn't realize at the time - gunshot residue. Leon dons a shit-eating grin as he wipes the mess around your face.
You hate it when he does that. You'd much rather have the sweet, love-making Leon you've come accustomed to.
"Yucky.. yucky!" You try to shut your mouth as your lover attempts to shove his tear and makeup-stained gloved fingers down your throat. You didn't stand a chance against him. Leon gets his way and presses his middle finger down on the middle of your tongue, his index forming a hook to keep your mouth wide open for him. The dubious amount of drinks you had tonight didn't help your gag reflex either. He pulls back right before you'd vomit on him.
You lose your grip on reality as the breath floods back into your lungs. That tightness in your core, right above your clit. You're gonna squirt from this fucked up punishment. Thankfully, you're insanely wet for your older lover, so the gloves don't hurt as much as they did at the start. Your pussy tightens around Leon's fingers.
"Luh.. love you! I'm so sorrysorrysorry..." You gave up running a while ago. You're limp, supported by the man responsible for your rescue and ruin. You keep begging for forgiveness as you squirt all over Leon, the orgasm he forced upon you sending shockwaves through your body.
"I love you too, baby." He keeps thrusting his large fingers in and out, in and out, taking breaks to pull out so you can squirt to your fullest. "I love you so much that I came all the way out here to get your ass off of these streets - punish you so you can make a better fucking choice next time." See, he really did care! If you were gonna get snatched by a psychopath tonight, aren't you glad it's him?
ââââàšà§ââââ
You passed the fuck out right after that orgasm. Leon held you close, rocking you back and forth in his arms. You'd pass in and out of reality, hearing his loving words - happy to know he didn't mean any of the harsh words he'd be yelling at you earlier.
"You did so good for me, sweet love." The older man's voice becomes soft, encompassing you. He hums a tune you hardly recognize as you drift to sleep in his arms, ruined and fucked out.
You wouldn't remember anything past your climax the next morning, but Leon's dedicated to aftercare no matter. You were wrapped in your favorite blanket from home before being carefully tucked in the passenger seat. He'd click the seatbelt over your sleeping frame, afraid any more rough treatment would shatter you for good.
Leon S. Kennedy was your guardian angel, in his own fucked up way - and you wouldn't have it any other way. You smile in your sleep, dreaming of him even now.
a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING IT TO THE END... UH WHAT DID YOU THINK?? DID YOU LIKE IT, DID YOU WANT TO RUN AWAY OR BLOCK ME?? HAHA
step bro!Pope.... this is all for you @valleyanimalz brother
tw pseudocest roleplay, fauxcest, girly moans pope truther, established relationship, impact play, somno n cnc if u squint . Pope calls reader bubby. mega smut ddne pls head my warning and dni if you're under 18!
Pope would enter your home with a long sigh, shoulders slumping forward as he drops everything there in his place. when he comes home after an overnight job, he never let's you know when he's coming home. it could be three in the afternoon, three in the morning. he does this because he gets to see you in your most vulnerable form.
he doesn't undress, doesn't shower, doesn't even step out his boots when he makes heavy steps towards your bedroom. even with all the exhaustion flowing through his body, he knows what he needs. he needs his...sister.
licking his lips, he pulls the covers off your body, a sheer black nightgown riding up your soft thighs. as mentioned, Pope never let you know when he came home. so you, being the doll you are, always make the effort to lay to rest in something pretty, something easy, something teasing.
he bites his lip, hands running up your unconscious legs as he moves you onto your back, his own knees denting the mattress as he leans over the side of you. in the morning, you'll scold him about the marks they leave on your duvet. but for now, you're at his dismay.
every time he greets you like this, you're always ready for him. your arousal seeping onto the back of your thighs, as you don't wear underwear when he leaves. clean, smooth, buttery with your brown sugar lotion coating your body. he inhales deep, hunched over your body as he goes from your hair, down your back, to your ass. you're all mine, he thinks.
he peels off his leather jacket, hands hurriedly sliding off his belt as his dick strains against the harsh denim. he watches your face stir ever so slightly as he runs his knuckles against your soft cheek, "such a pretty lil girl.." he's whispers, his thumb gliding over your plush lip, pressing down on it to watch it squish against his digit.
"missed your throat, sweetie..s'all i could think about.." your mouth opens around him as he slides his thumb past your teeth slowly, his breath picking up as he watches himself intrude you. "you been lettin' anyone use this mouth, baby? she still reserved for your big brother? guess we'll find out."
he's palming himself through his cotton boxers, eyes locked on how you take his thumb deeper into your mouth. he feels you come into consciousness from the insideâyour tongue twitching against him as he presses down, curving along it as your lips began to register the unfamiliar thing.
your lashes flutter, he feels your breath pick up against his hand, and its not long until your little hand raises in its sleepy state. you let out a groggy whine, grabbing onto his forehead as you blink awake, Andrew's breath hitching when you stare up at him with big, sleepy eyes. opening your mouth around his thumb, you let it rest on your lips. "..A-Andy..?" you mewl, squinting slighlty to see his pretty face.
with your head angled up he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, his spit covered thumb circling your plump lips. "sorry to wake you bub...just got home.." you hear that wordâno that name, that tone of voice. and it clicks in your mind what he wants, even through your tired body.
its what he usually did when he came home from a job. sometimes he wanted to be dad. but more times than none, he was your big brother, not your boyfriend. not in the scene, at least. "what..what're you doin'..?" you watch him bite down on his lip when you give into his play, the hand that's not holding his forearm rests on his thigh, right under where the skin flexes out his boxers.
"don't worry honey. just open your mouth, okay? your big brother had a stressful fuckin' day. gonna help me out?" you watch with big eyes as he gets his pants down to his knees. you push weakly at his thighs, "andy...m'tired.." you whine, squeaking when he grabs your chin roughly to pull you closer.
"I know i know,,I'll be quick just-just open your mouth.." he slaps at your cheek, and you whimper as you stick out your tongue. he taps his tip along it roughly,a raspy hum exiting his mouth before fisting at your hair, easing his cock in your mouth. your eyes roll back the deeper he goes, lip stretching around his fat dick.
from above you, Andrew let's out a long groan, head thrown back slighlty, eyes not leaving the sight of you. "there you go bubby..alll the way backânuh-uh," he slaps at your cheek again when you gag slightly, tears brimming your lashline, "take it, don't push me. you can do it." he grunts, keeping your head down.
your hands find his thighs, holding yourself steady as he meets your face with his thrusts. you whine and moan around him, lifting your tongue to glide along the underside of his cock, the action making him groan louder. "y'so fucking good baby, Jesus christ.." his hand holds the underside of your jaw, angling your head up as he speeds up his hips, his firey pubes tickling your lips.
you gag with each hit of the back of your throat, tears running down your cheeks now, and he pulls at your hair harder. "fuck bubby, fuck y-oh my god you're so good, takin' that shit huh?" he's getting cocky, your cheeks burning after each impact he sends through you, little sobs humming around his dick.
"you just take it n take it for me every time, such a good Lil sister.." your hands rake up his thighs, bunching his shirt above his abs as he slams his dick down your throat, pornographic gags being heard under his slew of girly sounding moans. "yeah baby, yeah, doin' so fuckin good, m-fuuuck m'almost done, just a lil longer okay?"
his eyes roll back as he hunches over your body, knees pressing deeper into the mattress, your neck beginning to strain from how he forces your head back. your thighs rub together under your gown, arousal pooling onto your thighs the louder he gets, using your throat to reach his release.
as your eyes fog with tears you watch his stomach spasm, abs tightening with each heavy breath he takes, your hands sliding from how tired you are. "bubby m'gonna cum, gonna cum down your fucking throat oh my fffucking god," he moans, brows furrowed as he looks down into your eyes that roll back with each jittery, hurried thrust.
his moans come out raspier, whinier as he reaches his climax, his jaw slack before he squeezes his eyes shut, hips stuttering to a stop as he paints the walls of your throat, holding your head down harder, letting it fill up your mouth before he slowly pulls out, still holding the underside of your chin.
had he not caught your body, you would've fallen face first into his pubes, your eyes shut with tears coating your lashes. as he huffs and puffs, he let's you calm yourself, stroking your wet cheek as he bends down to your level. "show me you swallowed." he rasps, and you shoot up, sticking your tongue out to show your good work. he bites his lip in a smirk, "that's me good girl." he kisses your stained cheek, smiling at the pleased sound you make as you wrap your arms around his neck.
"did so good, baby. you ok?" he whsiperd as you both come down from your scene, "tired..missed you..m'so wet for you.." you mumble into his ear, youre cheek to cheek with each other as he lays you ln your back. he dips his hand between your legs, almost a little astonished at how fucking soaked you were.
"yeah, youre so fuckin' wet baby. cmon, lay down." your hands glide off his body as he scoots onto his stomach down to your aching cunt. "gna take care of me..?" you watch as he thumbs at your pussy lips, spreading you open to watch your hole clench at his hot breath. "yeah, honeybee. just lay back, m'gonna take care of ya." (ÂŽâïœ*)Δïœă)
nikolai will do anything for you, including making porn for revenge on your dad
18+ mdni, DDNE. major content warnings: incest/fauxcest, price is a bad dad, reader is a worse daughter, exhibitionism, exposure kink, mentions of grooming, mentions of underage, mentions of rape, degradation, daddy kink, piss kink
thank you to @rawme-price for adding to my brainworms!!
maybe your dad should've paid more attention to you growing up, noticed when you started spending more time on your phone watching porn than you did socialising with friends.Â
or maybe caught on that your grades in uni were slipping because you spent all your free time on omegle flashing your tits to men three times your age.
but he didn't notice a thing, his killer instincts and observational skills focused where his heart truly lies--work.Â
where your daddy failed, another man kept a watchful eye over you always, counselled you and indulged you at every turn.
that's how you find yourself here, on your knees in nik's temporary sas hanger, doors wide open for anyone to walk past and see.
in nothing but your daddy's jacket, the one he lets you borrow, and the locket he gave you for your 18th birthday--treasured, even though you had to beg him to take a picture for it.
you're on display, not just for the passersby, not just for the man before you, but for the cameras too--one set off to the side while the other is pointed down at you.
every inch of you on show, your body that's been seen by countless pervs online, but now with your sweet little face on show too. there's new additions since you stopped showing off--matching nipple piercings, a tattoo just above your cunt, things you'd planned months ago when you'd settled on this idea. nik would be the first to see them, then your dad and the whole wide web.
"look right at camera, malyshka." nik coos, oh so sweetly but with a sick smirk, like he hasn't just skull fucked you within a hairs breadth of passing out choked on his cock. like your face isn't covered in globs of your own drool, his spit and your running mascara. like he hasn't plastered your driving licence to your forehead just like you asked.
"yes, uncle. papochka."
you blink up through tear-stained lashes, expression the very picture of innocence as you tongue at your uncle's cock and connect with the lens like you were made for this. maybe you were, having been groomed by all the hardcore porn you've watched, by the men who molded you in their image, by your loving, perverted uncle who encouraged every step of your little plan.Â
"good girl. they're gonna love you."Â he whispers before plunging deep inside until his cockhead forces open your throat. "take it all, gag on it, that's it." his encouragement is lovely, something that's been so familiar for so long you obey without question.
his spare hand cradles the back of your head, not needing to coax you down to the root because youre already raping your own throat on his cock, depriving yourself of oxygen because you know his pleasure is more important. you delight in the way his fat hairy stomach buries you into his musk, the dichotomy of your smooth young body with his older one.
it's perfect, euphoric, rational thought pushed out of you brain along with the ability to breathe, inhibitions leaking out of your cunt down your leg.
this is what you'd dreamed of all along, doing something that would finally get your daddy's attention, something that might finally get him to act.Â
after all, surely he won't sit idle as his only daughter's sex tape is spread round the base, round the world, her being subjugated to the most depraved acts by a man he trusted, all while his surname is right there in print, tying the two of them together forever.Â
you'd be nothing more than a porn fuck toy for sick misogynist men the world over, no one would look at you or him the same way.Â
finally, he'll act, and show he cares. Â
"pretty little price girl."Â
the words just about reach your ears just as your vision goes fuzzy, and you tap on nik's thigh for release. he takes far longer than he should to relent from bullying his cock further down your throat.Â
you're coughing and sputtering, desperate for air and yet riding the high, aching and throbbing and barely recovering--but nik knows your limits better than you do, he's smart, a man, so many years your senior and wiser still.Â
so as you gasp just for the chance to breathe, he lines himself up and lets go--warm piss running over your pretty little face, gushing into your gaping mouth, dripping down to your tits and the jacket with captain price sown on the breast.Â
"such a mess for your uncle nik." he barks a laugh, one that makes your clit throb. "make your smart face for your dad, hmm, just like I showed you?"Â
and you can't help but comply--eyes bright, tongue lolling out as you smile, open and willing and desperate, because knowing you wanted all this, got off on it, might just be the last nail in your fathers coffin.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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this is chapter one. based off of this song. available on ao3 as well.
pairing: benjamin poindexter x gn!reader
tags/warnings: dead dove do not eat, stalker!dex, established rship, obsessed!dex, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome reader, violence (not against reader), toxic relationship dynamic, northstar!reader, morally fucked reader, reader is implied to have long hair, more tags i am probably missing
summary: your boyfriend has his issues and you knew that, your love for him never wavered despite his flaws. you never thought the second he felt you "pulling away" he would ruin you for anyone else.
dex had his issues and you were aware of that. there was many of nights where he would sob into your chest, begging you never to leave him and you held him through it all.
when you found out he was the masked assassin known as 'bullseye' you thought nothing of it. sure, killing is wrong, but you didn't have any plans on leaving him ever. you loved him for who he is and if that includes 'bullseye', you were ready to adapt.
however, he did not hold the same sentiment that you did.
"you were not supposed to find out about this," he's pacing and fiddling with his fingers, shirt wrinkled and sweat beading on his forehead. there's a vein popping in his neck, the familiar visual cue of his anxiety. "dex, i don't care about it, i just want you to know i'm here for you." you try to explain yourself for what seems to be the hundredth time, to no avail he continues not to listen to you. he is thoroughly convinced you are going to leave him.
"you're just saying that, i know you are." his footsteps have stopped and he's now facing you, eyes glossy and voice wobbly. you can't help the pang in your heart when he says that because you know he means what he's saying. he's spiraling for no reason, and slowly your attempts to aid him are making him lose it more. you are powerless in this situation.
***
"that's really the last thing you can remember?" he knows the answer yet continues to ask. he's looming over you, your hands bound behind your back rendering you completely helpless. "you should know i'm not going to hurt you and i don't plan on it. i just needed to sedate you, i was scared you were going to run from me." he sounds like his throat has wires around it. choking out every little word like he's going to cry at his next breath.
it's suffocating him to do this to you, or at least that's what he's trying to sell to you.
that's when the anger set in. your eyebrows furrowed and your survival instincts went out the window. "excuse me? you aren't gonna hurt me? oh, isn't it my lucky fucking day." you spat, shaking your head in disapproval at him as you try to wriggle your way out of the tight restraints around your wrists. he watched intently, lips pursed as if he was thinking of what to say or do next.
"baby please, i would never hurt you, don't be mean" he pleads as he kneels to your level, had reaching to card through your hair. you try to pull away at the attention but all he does is hold you in place. "you know i can't lose you, please don't take this personally" every word he says is making your heart drop into your stomach, tears welling up in your eyes and your mouth unable to open and form words.
on one hand he was right, he would never hurt you and a part of you, even in this situation, knew he wouldn't hurt you physically. it conflicted with any reasonable thought, because on another hand he is capable of this, so he is capable of killing you and getting away with it. the thought of that alone made adrenaline shoot through you like heroine in your veins and a sob choke through your mouth.
he was quick to wipe your rapidly streaming tears, shushing you as you sobbed and coughed. "shh, 's gonna be okay, i got'ya. not ever gonna let you leave my side." the words are meant to soothe, but they cut through your skin and only make the sobs worse. the man who was meant to protect you from all evil, the man who was meant to stay by your side and hold you through it all, the man you loved with no conviction was the same man to tie you up inside of your shared apartment off of the sole fear of you leaving him. the same man who was holding you while you sobbed, unable to move on your own.
a sick part of you felt cared for and it made you disgusted. you pushed the feeling away with your body and soul, sobbing into him as he held you like nothing has changed.
except everything has changed and you seemed to be the only one out of you two to understand that.
you were a normal person who lived a normal life with who you thought was a normal boyfriend. now, not only is he now known as an assassin named bullseye, but he's holding you in contempt based off of a feeling. no matter how many times you replay that fact in your brain it's never something you get used to. as you sit with yourself, the man before you seeming to be busy as his head is in the crook of your neck, strong arms holding you close to him while he rocks you back and forth. its uncomfortable and strange and you're cold. you want him to stop, you want it to go back to the way it was before all of this.
"i need... i need a sweater, dex." you speak for the first time in what seems to be hours for dex but only minutes in reality. your voice is broken from all the crying and it comes out mumbled but dex understands you regardless of it all. he nods as he gets you his black fbi quarter zip, bringing it above your head and taking your hair out of the fabric as to not have it get stuck or feel uncomfortable on your skin.
warnings: NSFW, ddne, non-con + dub-con, oral, p in v, creampie, knife play, blood play, carving/cutting, yandere!jeff, home invasion, stockholm syndrome, stalking, obsession, fear kink, dacryphilia, rough sex, choking, degradation.
words: 7.2k.
note: this fic was inspired in the dating sim game fear me. forgive me if thereâs any errors or repeated words, english isnât my first language. enjoy!
divider not mine!
The red led cursor was blurry as you tried to adjust your tired, sleepy vision.
3:17.
Your digital clock reads.
You rolled over to your back in your bed, feeling an unnatural cold chill spilling through your room.
You turned your head, looking towards the window beside your bed. The curtains were swaying violently against the cold night wind that invaded your room. Your window was open. How weird. You clearly remember closing it before going to bed. You never leave it open, much less on windy days like these.
You sigh heavily, bringing a hand to rub your tired face as you close your eyes. You must have forgotten this time. Not very unlikely.
âFuck.â you whisper a cuss at your own recklessness.
Groaning, you toss your covers away, sitting up in bed in a swift motion, even though you were dying of tiredness. You sighed again and stood up, feeling the sharp, cold wind kiss your exposed body, raising all your body hair at once.
Hissing through your teeth, you tried to shield yourself from the cold as much as you could and ran quickly toward the windowsill, grabbing the edges of both windows by the sills, sealing the latches and making sure they were properly closed. The icy wind ceased immediately. You looked at the small, dark forest that surrounded your house outside. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the leaves of the trees swaying in the wind.
You adjusted the curtains, letting only a small beam of moonlight illuminate the room, and took a step back without turning completely.
You yawned, ready to return to your warm bed and sleep a little longer before your alarm clock rang. Before another tiring day came...
You took another step back. Something that felt like a body bumped into you from behind.
Before you could even breathe to scream, or do anything, a cold palm brutally covered your mouth, fingers digging into your cheek. As you struggled forward, contorting your torso with all the strength you possessed in a desperate attempt to break free from whatever was holding you, something icy and metallic pressed firmly against the side of your neck â right over your carotid artery, which was throbbing frantically.
With all the strength you could muster, you looked down. Through the panic and the dim light, you saw a pale blur of a hand covering your mouth. Further down, gripping your neck was a sharp, bloody knife. You couldnât tell if the crimson splatter on the blade was yours or someone elseâs, but the sight made your heart race even faster, the pulse so violent you could see the blade jump slightly against your skin with each beat. Your hands instinctively flew toward the pale hand that was choking your mouth.
Your nails scratched and dug into the manâs wrist and knuckles with all the force you possessed, tearing the skin and drawing fresh blood onto your fingers. You poured all your strength into the attack, scratching him like a wild animal, but the man didnât even flinch. His grip remained firm, unyielding, as if your desperate violence was nothing more than an irritating breeze.
âMmmph!â you whimpered desperately against his palm, your eyes wide with terror as you writhed and struggled, trying to break free. But it was impossible to escape it.
âShhh, now,â he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, his lips so close you felt the warm brush of his breath and the light touch of his mouth on the delicate shell of your ear. A violent shiver ran down your spine, every hair on your body standing on end. âWouldnât like waking the neighbors, would you?â
His tone was deceptively calm, almost intimate, carrying a dark amusement that made your stomach churn. The faint scent emanating from him â something coppery mixed with sweat â invaded your nostrils as he held you still. You could feel the firmness of his chest pressed against your back, the steady rhythm of his breathing in stark contrast to your own frantic, muffled gasps.
You tried to scream again, the sound dying uselessly against his palm. Tears of pure terror burned in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. The knife at your throat didnât move, but you felt the slightest movement of the blade as he adjusted his grip, the sharp edge grazing your skin. Your entire body froze instantly. A sudden movement from either of you and the cut would be deep, perhaps fatal.
âShhh, easy,â he murmured, his warm breath brushing your ear. âYou make a sound, a fucking peep, and Iâll slit that pretty throat of yours. Nod for me if you understand.â he commanded.
All you could do now was cooperate if you wanted to get out of this situation alive and breathing. You closed your eyes and slowly nodded against his chest.
âThatâs it⊠good girl.â he cooed, the compliment sliding smoothly against your ear. His thumb slid across your cheek in a teasing caress, spreading tears that had escaped your eyes down your cheeks.
The instant his palm lifted from your mouth, he violently turned you to face him. Brutally, he threw you against the bedroom wall. The back of your head slammed against the solid surface, sending a sharp wave of pain through your skull like blood mingling with water. The impact left you stunned and dizzy, the world spinning for a few terrifying seconds as black dots danced before your eyes. A low groan escaped your lips.
He kept the bloody knife pressed firmly against your neck, the sharp point now penetrating just enough to draw a thin, warm line of your own blood that trickled slowly down your collarbone. You gasped.
Now, for the first time, you could see him clearly, the dim moonlight illuminating his features; he was tall and thin, his skin terribly pale and covered in scars that looked like burns. His long, jet-black hair fell disheveled over his shoulders, partially covering one eye. Black ear gauges stretched his earlobes, accompanied by a few silver piercings. His nails were painted black, some chipped. Deep, black circles encircled his large, sleepless blue eyes, which remained fixed and motionless on you. And then there was his smile, brutally carved from ear to ear, the jagged scars pulling his lips into a grotesque, permanent grin, even when his mouth was closed. The cuts looked old, but were still fresh at the edges, leaking blood all over them.
He wore a white hoodie, filthy and heavily stained with splashes of dried blood on his chest and sleeves. Beneath, black jeans outlined his legs, and on his feet, black all stars sneakers, also worn and stained with dried blood.
Your breath caught in your throat as the recognition hit you like a second blow to the head.
You knew him. Jeff.
Heâd walked into the video rental store where you worked about three weeks ago. Late at night, just before closing. He rented some old horror movies, barely said a word, only asked for your name, said his, paid in cash, and left. You remembered those piercing and unsettling blue eyes as he stared at you for too long while browsing the shelves in the horror movie aisle, a black bandana covering his sinister carved smile. He was⊠weird, to say the least. Sure, maybe weirder than most of the weirdos who usually showed up at the store. But harmless enough at the time.
Now, that same man had you pinned against your bedroom wall with a knife to your throat. But⊠how? How had he found your address? How had he managed to get in even with all the doors and windows locked? Well, now you couldnât clearly remember if you had actually locked the bedroom windowâŠ
Jeffâs scarred lips tightened into an even wider, more horrifying smile, the sculpted edges stretching grotesquely, exposing his teeth through the lacerated flesh.
âYou remember me, right?â he whispered, his voice low and heavy with dark pleasure as he noticed the recognition light up your face for a few seconds. He leaned closer, his face just inches from yours.
âJ-JeffâŠ?â was all you managed to murmur, your voice barely above a shaky breath.
âSee! You do remember me!â he exclaimed, sounding genuinely delighted. His manic blue eyes lit up with sick excitement, the deep black circles around them making the color pop even more unnaturally.
âYeah⊠how could I forget a guy like youâŠâ you couldnât help but let out a sarcastic remark.
Jeff let out a low, raspy laugh that sounded more like a growl, clearly amused by your attitude. The carved smile on his face twisted grotesquely as he chuckled, the jagged scars crinkling and stretching.
âFeisty even with a knife to your throat⊠I like thatâŠâ he purred, his breath hot against your lips.
He slowly dragged the flat side of the bloody knife down the front of your throat, not cutting deeper, but letting you feel the cold steel and the sticky blood on the blade. That made you remember. Panic immediately flooded your senses.
âW-what⊠what do you want from me?â you whispered shakily, barely able to get the words out. âPlease, Jeff⊠just tell me what you want.â
Jeffâs grotesque smile stretched even wider, the scarred corners of his mouth pulling tight as a low, delighted chuckle rumbled from his chest. He looked genuinely thrilled by your fear, like it was the best thing heâd heard all night.
âOh, princessâŠâ he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. He tilted his head, long black hair falling over one eye as he studied your terrified expression. âI just want to play. Thatâs all. You can entertain me tonight, canât you? Be my pretty little toy for a few hoursâŠâ
You were terrified, he could see it, smell it â taste it. He suddenly leaned in even closer, pressing his nose into your hair. You felt him inhale deeply, slowly, deliberately, breathing you in like he was savoring the most intoxicating scent in the world. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against you as he held the knife steady at your throat.
âFuck, yes... you smell so good⊠even better up close.â he groaned, voice husky and dripping with hunger. He pulled back just enough to look at your face again. His wide eyes roamed over your tear-streaked cheeks with predatory fascination.
Then, without warning, he leaned in and dragged his warm, surprisingly long, wet tongue slowly up one of your cheeks, licking away the salty tears in one long, deliberate stroke. He did the same to the other side, savoring the taste, his scarred lips brushing your skin as he let out another soft, pleased groan.
âMmm⊠so sweet...â he whispered against your damp skin, his breath hot and ragged. His fingers gripped your chin tightly, keeping your head exactly where he wanted it.
You shuddered violently, revulsion, fear, and⊠something else you couldnât quite name twisted in your stomach. The wetness of his tongue lingered on your cheeks, making your skin crawl. Your head still throbbed from where it had slammed against the wall, and the cold steel of the knife kept you painfully aware that at any moment, he could end your life in an instant.
But he was savoring every second of it, you were aware of that. As if he was preparing the meat before devouring it. So⊠you could take advantage of that, couldnât you?
âJ-JeffâŠâ you started, trying to sound firmer, softer. âYou⊠you said you wanted to⊠play. Well, we can play now.â you suggested, forcing a shaky smirk, your fearful eyes searching his hollow, manic blue ones, desperately looking for any sign that he might accept instead of simply gutting you right there.
Jeff froze immediately, and he just stared at you for some agonizing seconds. You were already thinking your attempt to make him decline the idea of gutting you had failed when his scarred smile slowly stretched wider, upwards, into what you thought was supposed to be a smirk. A dark, amused, delighted laugh bubbled from his throat.
When his laughter died out, he tilted his head, that smirk still there. He leaned back just enough to look you straight in the eyes, his voice turning playful yet dangerously serious.
âRight. Hereâs the deal then. Weâre going to play a little game. Hide and seek, my favorite. You get one minute to run and hide anywhere in this house. Iâll close my eyes and count. If I find youâŠâ his tongue slid slowly across his scarred lips. âThen I get to do whatever I want with you. Anything. No limits.â
He paused, letting the horrifying weight of his words sink in.
âBut if I canât find you before the sun comes up⊠Iâll leave. Iâll walk out that door and youâll never see me again. I promise.â
You didnât know if you could trust a guy who has stalked you for weeks, just broke into your house and now is making you play a twisted game to not kill you. Oh, yeah, of course. But, as much as unpredictable, unstable and untrustable Jeff seemed to be, you decided to agree. Whatever to stay alive.
His blue eyes gleamed with pure madness and excitement as he watched your reaction. The permanent carved smile on his face made the âpromiseâ look like a sick joke.
Jeff finally stepped back, giving you the tiniest bit of space. He pulled the knife away from your neck, though he still held it casually in his hand, the blade glinting under the moonlight.
He raised one black-nailed finger to his lips in a mocking âshhhâ gesture.
âBetter start running. Your minute starts⊠now.â
He turned around dramatically, facing the opposite wall, and began counting in a low, singsong voice that echoed through the silent house.
âOneâŠâ
âTwoâŠâ
His voice was calm, almost cheerful, but you could hear the hunger underneath it.
âThreeâŠâ
Your legs felt like jelly. Your head still throbbed from being slammed against the wall. Every instinct screamed at you to run. But all you could do was stand there like a terrified lamb waiting for its sacrifice.
âFourâŠâ
Jeff didnât even turn around, but you could feel his twisted smile growing as he counted.
âFiveâŠâ
âSixâŠâ
Adrenaline flushed through your veins, burning away the dizziness in your head from hitting the wall. Without thinking twice, your legs bolted.
You sprinted down the room, flashing the dark hallway, bare feet against the cold wooden floor. Your breath came in short, panicked gasps as you tried to think of the best spot for hiding, your eyes flickering frenetically from each end of each way possible. All of them seemed like a trap now.
âSeven⊠eight⊠nineâŠâ
Jeffâs calm, singsong voice was a constant reminder of how much time you were losing by standing there. Your heart was pounding in your ribcage, you could hear the frantic pulse in your ears, while your mind raced desperately.
You didnât dare turn any lights on. The only lighting came from the faint moonlight filtering from the half-open curtains and the single hallway bulb youâd left on earlier. You still had some seconds to think.
Closet? Too obvious. Under the bed? Itâll be the first place heâll check. Basement? No, too far, too dark, too loud...
You darted into the living room, nearly tripping over the coffee table in the dark.
âTwenty⊠twenty-oneâŠâ
Heart pounding, you made a split-second decision and ran toward the kitchen. You quietly opened the pantry door, slipped inside, and carefully closed it behind you, leaving only a tiny crack for air. The small space smelled of spices and old wood. You crouched down behind the tall shelves, pulling your knees to your chest and trying to make yourself as small as possible. Your hands trembled violently as you pressed them over your mouth to muffle your loud, erratic breathing.
âThirty-five⊠thirty-sixâŠâ
You tried to steady your breathing, but every inhale felt too loud. Tears streamed silently down your cheeks. This canât be real. This canât be happening. The image of Jeffâs pale face, those black-ringed eyes, and that gruesome smile burned behind your eyelids.
âForty-eight⊠forty-nine⊠fiftyâŠâ
His counting grew slower, more deliberate, like he was savoring the moment.
You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that he wouldnât find you. You could still feel the ghost of his body pressed against yours, his hot breath on your ear, the cold blade against your skinâŠ
âFifty-eight⊠fifty-nine⊠sixty.â
Silence.
Then came the sound you dreaded most; slow, deliberate footsteps echoing through the hallway.
âReady or notâŠâ Jeff called out in a playful tone that sent ice through your veins. âHere I come!â
You heard him move around the house with terrifying calmness. You heard your closet door creaking at first, furniture being shoved aside, drawings being opened⊠He didn't seem to be rushing. He was enjoying the hunt.
âCome out, come out, wherever you areâŠâ he hummed softly, his voice growing closer to the kitchen. âI can smell you, you know. Itâs sweet.â he let out a soft, raspy, disturbing chuckle.
He went into the kitchen, you were sure. You could hear his shoes scrapping through the tiled floor, slow and steady. It stopped right in front of the pantry door.
Your entire body went rigid. You held your breath. You closed your eyes shut, feeling the tears soak your cheeks.
The pantry door creaked open slightly.
Moonlight spilled in through the crack, illuminating the shelves. You saw the shadow of Jeff's tall figure standing there.
Jeff inhaled deeply, almost like he was smelling the air.
âMmm⊠I know youâre there,â he whispered, voice dripping with dark hunger. âI can hear your little heart racing.â
He took one step closer. Then another. The door opened wider.
Your stomach dropped as his pale hand with black-painted nails appeared, gripping the edge of the pantry door fully and yanked it open with a sharp motion. The sudden movement made you flinch violently. You tried to shrink further into the corner behind the shelves, but there was nowhere left to go.
Jeff tilted his head, that horrifying carved grin widening as his eyes locked onto you. For a second he just stared, drinking in the sight of you trembling, curled up like a frightened, wounded animal.
âThere you areâŠâ he whispered, almost tenderly. âLook at you. So small. So scared. So fucking perfect.â
You couldnât stop the broken sob that escaped your lips.
In one swift movement, he reached in, grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you out the pantry. You cried out as he yanked you forward, your scalp burning. Your bare feet stumbled across the kitchen tiles as he pulled you upright and slammed your back against the kitchen counter.
The knife was back at your throat instantly, the cold, sticky bloodied blade pressing firmly under your chin, forcing your head up.
âGame over,â Jeff said with dark amusement, his face inches from your. âI win.â
You were shaking uncontrollably now, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your voice cracked with pure terror as you murmured: âNo, wait⊠Please⊠you said if you didnât find meâŠâ
âI said before sunrise,â he interrupted, chuckling. âAnd I found you in under two minutes. Pathetic, really. I thought you could do better than that...â
He pressed his body against yours, trapping you between the counter and his lean, surprisingly strong frame. You could feel the warmth of his chest through the bloody hoodie, the metallic smell of blood and faint sweat invading your senses. His long hair brushed your face as he leaned in closer, his scarred lips ghosting over your jaw.
âYou lost, princess,â he breathed against your skin, voice husky and dripping with excitement. âThat means I get to do whatever I want with you tonight.â
His free hand slid slowly down your side, fingers digging into your waist possessively. The knife stayed steady at your throat, a constant deadly reminder.
Jeff pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again. His manic blue gaze was filled with pure, unfiltered hunger, madness and⊠affection?
âIâve been waiting for this for so longâŠâ he muttered softly, his wide eyes roaming over your tear-streaked face. âWatching you, waiting for youâŠâ he leaned slowly closer until his scarred lips were ghosting over your cheeks, depositing, to your surprise, small kisses all over the damp skin of your cheeks.
Surprise flashed through your senses at the unexpected tenderness, the contrast jarring against the cold bite of steel pressing into your neck. His lips were rough, scarred and warm, brushing away a few of your tears with each gentle press. He hummed low in his throat, almost content, as if this were some long-awaited reunion rather than the nightmare it was.
âYouâre even prettier up close,â he whispered between kisses, his voice dropping into something almost reverent. His fingers on your waist tightened, pulling your body flush against his in a possessive hold that left no room for escape. âSo soft⊠so perfect. My pretty little thing.â
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, careful not to let the knife slip, and inhaled deeply, like he was savoring your scent. The tip of the blade never wavered, but his other hand stroked up and down your side in slow, soothing circles, as if trying to calm a frightened animal.
âI love you,â Jeff breathed against your skin, the words raw and fervent, laced with that unhinged devotion. âI love you so fucking much it hurts. You have no idea how long Iâve loved you⊠how many nights I spent watching you, how many nights I spent planning this perfect momentâŠâ
He pulled back again, just far enough to lock eyes with you, his grin stretching wider, the carved smile pulling at his pale cheeks. The affection in his gaze was genuine in its own twisted way, burning brighter than the madness. âNow say it back,â he demanded softly, though the command was edged with steel, just like the knife. His thumb brushed tenderly over your bottom lip, wiping away another tear. âSay it: âI love you too, Jeffâ.â
You hesitated, your trembling lips refusing to form the words. Then, you felt the press of the knife just a fraction firmer against your pulse, quickly reminding you again of your fate. That gave you enough courage to force your fear-hazed brain to work.
âI⊠I love you too, Jeff.â you felt your cheeks burning as soon as you realized what you just said.
Jeffâs expression shifted with triumph, the manic light in his eyes flickering with amusement, something almost playful. âLiar,â he whispered, chuckling lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it was pressed against you, sending shivers down your spine. âBut you will soon.â he promised, voice dripping into an affectionate murmur.
Without any warning, Jeff suddenly spun you around, bending you forward over the kitchen counter with brutal force. Your cheek pressed hard against the cold marble as he kept the knife to the side of your neck. His hips pressed against your ass from behind, pinning you completely.
Jeffâs carved smile pressed coldly against the nape of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his fingers continued their slow, possessive journey under your thin t-shirt. His black-painted nails scraped lightly up your spine, raising goosebumps everywhere they touched.
You were bent helplessly over the kitchen counter, cheek smashed against the cold marble, ass pushed out against him. The bloody knife stayed firmly against the side of your throat, the sharp edge biting just enough to remind you how easily he could end you.
âSuch soft skin,â he murmured, voice thick with lust and madness. âIâve imagined how youâd feel for weeks⊠and youâre so much better than I thought.â
His hips rocked forward slowly, grinding his growing erection against your ass through his jeans, letting you feel exactly what the game had done to him. A low, raspy groan escaped his scarred lips.
You whimpered, fresh tears slipping down your face and onto the counter.
âP-please⊠JeffâŠâ you begged, voice small and broken.
He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your back.
âBegging already? But weâve barely startedâŠâ
With one rough tug, he yanked your t-shirt up to your shoulders, exposing your bare back to the cool air. His hand roamed greedily over your skin, squeezing, scratching, claiming every inch. Then he reached around and roughly palmed one of your breasts through your t-shirt, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you gasp sharply.
âThatâs it,â he hissed in approval. âMake those pretty little sounds for me.â
He suddenly pulled you upright by your hair, spinning you around to face him again. Your back hit the counter edge as he towered over you. Up close, his appearance was even more terrifying and⊠mesmerizing.
Jeff stared straight into your terrified eyes as he slowly dragged the flat of the knife down between your breasts, the cold steel making you shiver violently.
âTake it off,â he ordered, voice low and dangerous. âAll of it. I want to see whatâs mine tonight.â
When you hesitated, trembling too much to move, he pressed the blade harder against your stomach.
âNow,â he growled. âOr Iâll cut it off you myself⊠and I might not be careful.â
With shaking hands, you pulled the t-shirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. The cool air hit your exposed breasts, making your nipples harden immediately. Jeffâs eyes darkened with hunger, his carved grin widening impossibly.
âFuck⊠look at you.â he breathed, almost reverently. He holstered the knife for a second in the waistband of his jeans, only to replace it with his hands. Both of them grabbed your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading while his thumbs flicked over your sensitive nipples.
You bit your lip hard to stay quiet, but a soft, involuntary moan escaped anyway.
Jeffâs eyes lit up with savage delight.
âDonât hold back,â he whispered, leaning down to drag his tongue slowly across your collarbone, licking up the trail of dried blood from earlier. âLet me know how good Iâm making you feelâŠâ he let out a delighted whimper.
One of his hands slid down your stomach, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. He pushed them down along with your panties in one rough motion, letting them pool at your ankles. You were completely naked now, pressed against the kitchen counter while he remained fully dressed in his bloodied clothes.
Jeff stepped back for a moment, just staring at your exposed body like a predator admiring his catch. His long hair fell across his face as he tilted his head, black nails tapping the handle of the knife still tucked in his jeans.
âSo fucking beautiful,â he said softly. Then his voice dropped into a darker, more commanding tone. âGet on your knees.â
When you didnât move fast enough, he grabbed you by the hair and forced you down onto the cold kitchen floor. The knife was back in his hand instantly, pressing against your cheek as he stood over you.
âLook at me while you do it,â he ordered, using his free hand to unzip his black jeans. âNo teeth.â he smirked.
His hard cock sprang free, pale and throbbing, the tip already glistening. He guided it to your lips, smearing the precum across them.
âOpen your mouth, princess,â Jeff commanded, his voice low and rough with arousal. His fingers twisted tighter in your hair, yanking your head back slightly so you had no choice but to look up at him.
You hesitated for only a second, lips trembling.
Jeffâs manic blue eyes narrowed. âDonât make me ask twice.â
He gave little taps on your cheek with the cold flat of the knife, pressing it harder against your skin, just to remind you of what was waiting for you if you didnât comply; the sticky blood smearing across it beautifully. You gasped, flinching away from the steel instinctively. Jeff was quick to put you back in your place; tightening his knuckles against your locks, the pain pinching deeper in your already sore scalp.
âAh, ah, ah,â Jeff said mockingly, shaking his head as he kept tightening his knuckles on your hair. You let out an involuntary cry. âTsk, tsk⊠such a bad girl. Still fightingâŠâ
Your hands immediately flew to his knuckles on your hair, scratching your nails on his skin, while your watery, pleading eyes were set on him, silently asking for him to be gentle. Though that didnât make him loosen his grip.
âTry to run again and Iâll cut you open,â he warned, voice low and serious. âUnderstand?â
You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping you. Your hand immediately left his knuckles to rest flat and shakingly against your thigh.
âOpen your fucking mouth. Now.â Jeff commanded again.
You parted your lips, and he immediately pushed forward, sliding the head of his cock into your warm mouth. He was thick and hot against your tongue, the salty taste of his precum filling your senses. A deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest as he sank deeper, not stopping until he hit the back of your throat.
âFuuuck⊠thatâs it,â he hissed through his carved smile, the scars stretching grotesquely. âLook at those pretty lips wrapped around me. Just like I imagined...â
He held your head in place with both hands now â one still gripping your hair, the other pressing the knife flat against your other cheek, the tip dangerously close to your eye. You could feel his pulse throbbing against your tongue as he started to move, slow and deep at first, savoring every second.
Tears spilled down your face as you struggled to breathe around him, gagging softly when he pushed too far. The sound only seemed to excite him more.
âYeah⊠choke on it,â he growled, his long black hair falling forward as he looked down at you. His pale skin was flushed with pleasure, the deep black circles around his eyes making him look even more deranged. âYou have no idea how many nights I jerked off thinking about fucking that smart mouth of yours while you were safe in your bed.â
He began thrusting harder, hips snapping forward with more force, using your mouth roughly. The wet, obscene sounds of him sliding in and out filled the silent kitchen. Every time you tried to pull back for air, he forced you back down, the knife never leaving your face.
âGood girl⊠just like that,â he praised breathlessly, his carved grin never fading. âYouâre doing so well. Taking me so deep even while youâre crying. Fuck, you look beautiful like this.â
After several long, brutal minutes, he finally pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You gasped desperately for air, coughing and trembling on your knees.
Jeff didnât give you long to recover. He grabbed you by the arms and hauled you up, slamming your back against the kitchen counter once again. In one swift motion, he lifted you onto the cold marble surface, spreading your legs wide and stepping between them. The knife returned to your throat immediately.
âSpread them more.â he ordered.
You obeyed, terrified, your entire body shaking. Jeff looked down between your legs, his blue eyes darkening with raw hunger as he saw how wet you were despite your fear.
âPathetic,â he mocked with a dark chuckle. âScared out of your mind and your pussy is still dripping for me. What a filthy little thing you are.â
He rubbed the head of his cock slowly up and down your slick folds, teasing your clit, coating himself in your arousal. You whimpered, gripping the edge of the counter so hard your knuckles turned white.
Jeff leaned over you, his bloody hoodie brushing against your bare breasts. His face hovered inches from yours, that horrifying permanent smile filling your vision.
âBeg me to fuck you,â he whispered hotly against your lips. âBeg me nicely, or Iâll shove this knife somewhere much worse than your throat.â
Your voice came out broken and small, thick with tears: âPlease⊠Jeff⊠please, fuck meâŠâ
His eyes flashed with triumph.
âI canât hear you...â
âPlease! Please, fuck me, JeffâŠâ you cried, voice cracking.
That was all he needed.
With one brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, stretching you open painfully. A sharp cry tore from your throat as he filled you completely. Jeff groaned loudly in pleasure, his head falling back for a moment, long black hair swaying.
âGoddamn⊠so fucking tight.â he growled.
He didnât wait. He started fucking you hard and fast right there on the kitchen counter, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the house. One hand kept the knife pressed to your throat while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pulling you into every savage thrust.
âSay my name,â he demanded, pounding into you mercilessly. âSay it while I ruin this pretty pussy.â
âJ-JeffâŠ!â you sobbed.
âLouder!â he snarled, angling his hips to hit that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes.
âJeff! Oh God⊠Jeff!â you screamed, tears streaming down your face.
His carved smile widened into something truly monstrous as he fucked you harder, leaning down to lick the tears from your cheeks with his tongue.
You felt your body jolting with every deep stroke, your gummy walls already clenching around his length. Despite the absolute terror you were feeling, you couldnât help but whimper every time Jeff stroked that soft spot inside you.
âFuck, Jeff⊠yeahâŠâ you whimpered pathetically as he kept abusing your cunt, his scarred lips now leaving your cheeks to work on your neck, nibbling and twisting the skin hard between his teeth. He chuckled when you gasped and clenched harder around him.
âYeah? You like that?â he asked, his breath ghosting over your ear. âI knew you would end up liking it. Such a filthy little slut for meâŠâ he purred.
Unexpectedly, the knife that was being held up to your neck was left aside as he tossed it somewhere â still close enough that he could grab it by the handle and press it against your beautiful neck if even the slightest thought of escaping crossed your, now, useless cock-drunk brain â in the counter, being replaced by his white pale hands.
Jeff laced his hands on your throat, squeezing the sides of your skin at the same time he pounded into you. The pressure made your head spin, vision blurring at the edges as pleasure and fear mixed into something sick and addictive. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders still covered by the hoodie, and he hissed in approval, hips snapping harder.
âJ-JeffâŠâ you let out a weak whisper, feeling your vision hazing. The lack of air only made Jeff's thrusts even more intense and delicious now. Not long enough, you became a babbling mess below him.
You could feel your orgasm building up in your stomach. You were so close, and you could tell Jeff was as well by the way his hips were faltering against you, his thrusts getting more erratic and a little slow. You could feel his fingers starting to loosen its tight grip, increasingly easing the delicious, delirious pressure on your neck until his hands were just there, holding your sore throat gently.
Jeffâs hips stuttered, his breathing turning ragged as he felt you tightening around him again.
âAww, youâre gonna cum for me, right? Câmon⊠you were so chatty before. Use that pretty mouth of yours.â one of his hands left your throat, slipping between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in fast, relentless circles.
A gasp followed by a sharp whimper rolled out of your lips as you tried to gather any words to reply. Your mind felt like a huge cloud of pleasure. âMmmph, yeah⊠Iâm gonna⊠Iâm gonna cum, Jeff.â was all that you managed to let out, your hips shakily moving against his fingers, trying to get more of the friction he was applying while his cock kissed your cervix deliciously.
Jeffâs eyes lit up, amused by your attitude, amused that you were chasing more of him. The pressure built fast until your vision whited out and your whole body seized, orgasm crashing through you in violent waves. You cried out his name in frenetic follow-ups.
Jeff followed right after with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled his cum deep inside you, hot and thick. He didnât pull out. Instead he collapsed against you, still twitching, still leaking, arms wrapping around your trembling frame like a vice.
âMy sweet girlâŠâ he murmured into your neck, pressing soft, obsessive kisses along the bruises heâd left.
His lips left your neck and he pressed his forehead against yours, those unblinking eyes staring straight into your hazy ones with something that looked like worship. He leaned in, letting his scarred lips hover against yours for a bit, his quick hot breath fanning across them. He kissed you then, messy and desperate, tongue pushing past your lips like he wanted to crawl inside your soul. You whimpered against his mouth, trying to keep up with his pace, moving your tongue against his.
When he pulled out, a weak string of saliva connected both of your mouths.
âI love you,â he whispered against your mouth, the words dripping with obsession, sick and heavy. âLove you so much. Iâd kill anyone who even looks at you. You know that, right? Youâre mine. Only mine.â his hands slid up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the almost dried tears from the corners of your eyes. The touch was gentle, almost loving.
He pulled away just enough to look you straight, he seemed to enjoy the vision. Now, you could see his face more clearly above you; his dark pupils were blown wide, almost covering the blue irises entirely, his eyelids â now you saw that he actually had them â were half-lid, the tips of his dark hair brushing the sides of your bruised neck, his expression distorted with affection. He was beautiful.
You could feel him growing flaccid inside you, and he immediately slid out of you, leaving you empty again, but his cum leaking down your thighs obscenely. Without letting his eyes leave your face, he straightened up, pulling his pants up. You realized you were bare naked as you straightened yourself on the counter, sitting up to meet his gaze.
He seemed to realize that as well, tilting his head slightly before bending down to gather your clothes from the floor. He moved with an odd calmness, like this was something ordinary, something domestic.
He handed them to you without a word.
âThanksâŠâ you said softly, pulling your shirt over your shoulders, then your panties followed by your shorts.
He watched you finish dressing, that wide, carved grin never leaving his face. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Your heart hammered so hard you were sure he could hear it. Now that it was over, the fear came crashing back in full force.
You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. ââŠAre you going to kill me now?â
Jeff paused. For a second the only sound was the faint drip of the kitchen faucet. Then a low, raspy chuckle slipped out between his teeth.
âKill you?â he tilted his head, the motion almost bird-like. âNah. Not tonight.â
Not tonight? So he has plans to kill you sometime? That made your throat tighten and⊠your cunt clench.
He stepped closer again, crowding you against the counter. One pale hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek hard enough to make the skin whiten. âSay it,â he murmured, voice dropping into that dangerous, velvet-rough tone. âTell me you love me. And this time⊠mean it.â
Your lips trembled. The words felt heavy, but they came out willingly, soft and gentle. âI love you, Jeff.â
Something shifted in his expression. The endless black pits around his eyes seemed to soften, just a fraction. The carved smile actually looked⊠pleased. Genuinely pleased. He let out a slow breath, almost like relief, and his forehead rested against yours for a moment. âGood girl,â he whispered. âMy good fucking girl. You finally get it. Youâre just like me.â
For a heartbeat, the moment felt almost tender. Then, without warning, he grabbed you by the hips and slammed you back down onto the counter, pinning you flat with his body. The breath left your lungs in a gasp. Before you could even react, his hand flashed to the end of the counter and the familiar silver blade of his knife appeared, gleaming under the dim kitchen light. He pressed the cold edge right against your throat, the sharp tip kissing your pulse right again.
He said he wasnât going to kill you. Well, maybe not tonight. So, he should keep his promise... right? But the thought of him just pushing that knife into you, coating himself with your blood⊠was enough to make you whimper involuntarily.
Jeff let out a dark chuckle when he noticed the needy sound that slipped through you. âOh, you like this, donât ya?â he hissed, eyes wild with dark delight. âKnowing I could slit your pretty little throat right now and watch you bleed out while youâre still leaking from me. Say it. Tell me you love that I can kill you whenever I want.â
Your voice cracked, fear and something much darker twisting together. âI⊠I love itâŠâ
Before you could finish, he dragged the knife down in one smooth, deliberate motion. The blade bit into the soft skin of your lower belly, carving deep enough to draw a bright line of red. Pain exploded across your nerves. You cried out sharply, body jerking against his hold, tears instantly springing to your eyes.
But deep down, beneath the burning sting and the terror, a sick, shameful heat bloomed in your chest. You hated how much you craved the ownership in that cut.
Jeff kept carving, slow and careful, forming the jagged letters of his name into your flesh.
J E F F
Blood welled up immediately, trickling down your sides and staining the edge of the counter. When he was finished, he lifted the knife, admiring his work with a smile. He brought the blade to his mouth and dragged his tongue along the flat of it, licking your blood clean off the steel with obvious relish. You felt your folds wetting beneath your panties yet again at the sight of that.
âIt gets so much sweeter when youâre scared,â he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction, tongue licking his lips like it was the best thing heâd ever tasted. âJust so you wonât forget me.â
You were still panting, tears streaming down your face, the fresh cuts throbbing with every heartbeat. He stared at you for a long moment, drinking in the sight of you broken and bleeding and still looking at him like that.
Then, without another word, Jeff turned and walked out of the kitchen. You heard the front door clicking shut a few seconds later, leaving you alone on the counter with his name freshly etched into your skin and the echo of his words ringing in your ears.
Just so you wonât forget me.
You definitely wouldnât.
The twisted warmth of knowing that made you smile.
part three of monster fucker may: skinwalker kenjaku x f!reader (jujutsu kaisen)
in which kenjaku had successfully assimilated as geto and was on his way back with everyone else in tow â a continuation of the part of one piece from march that follows a goatman inspired story of you going on a camping trip with your friends, before something goes terribly wrong
âtrigger warnings: !!please read carefully!!: this piece contains graphic horror, dark smut, non-consensual acts (non!con/coercion), memory alteration & memory loss, lost time and surreal reality, psychological trauma, manipulation and trickery, in addition to implied character death(s) âą MDNI âą read on ao3 âą part two of two âą read the first part here
âAs you sat between Suguru and Shoko, a tense and suffocating quiet settled over the interior of the car.
Nothing seemed to add up, and the heavy strain of the atmosphere was not making anything better. Shoko, for example, had gone quiet, her expression glazed over with a thought she could not voice. At most, she could only look out of the window as the same trees kept passing her by. Kento was stuck in the passenger seat, his fingernails scratching at the fabric of his seat, which was already fraying at the seams, and Satoru was speeding through the road with his shoulders raised high and his posture coiled tight.
Suguru, on the other hand, did not feel like who he was supposed to be.
It was a strange realisation, but you could no longer deny it anymore:
This was not the same man that you once knew.
A heavy, thick gulp travelled down your throat as you tried to remain calm. Briefly, a memory surfaced as you thought back to last nightâof you getting lost, maybeâthough you did not understand or remember what led up to that point. Nothing made sense. A terrible soreness settled over your lower half as well as over your shoulders; parts of your skin just felt bruised in a way that you couldnât accomplish from a mere fall or anything of the sort. In addition to that, you felt exhausted, and your mind felt hazy, but that much seemed to be the case for everyone else, too.
As if to ground you, Suguru slipped his hand over to find yours, his fingers threading past your own and anchoring you to the seat. For whatever reason, however, you could not bring yourself to face him, let alone find comfort in his company.
Subconsciously, without even realising it, you pulled away from him a moment later, shuffling over towards Shokoâs sideâwho made an effort to accommodate you, sensing your unease. She seemed just as out of it as you, but something kept her going. Knowing her, perhaps it was scepticism.
Kento was in a similar boat because, despite his distance, he refused to accept something in particular. Yes, you all left in a hurry because something felt wrong, but he didnât like that he couldnât place it. Finally, he snapped, tearing through the tense quiet.
âRight,â he began, his voice rough with a lack of sleep. âDoes anyone remember anything at all?â he asked, his tone firm.â
Satoru shook his head; his mind was still focused on the empty stretch of road up ahead that never seemed to end. Shoko made a soft, disagreeable sound, whereas you gave a small and uncertain ânoâ to seal it all together.
Suguru was the only one who answered with something cohesive.
âYes,â he replied calmly, his voice low and smooth, something about his cadence sounding more rehearsed than natural. âThe weather turned bad, and there was an episode of someone sleepwalking.â
Kento immediately refused that answer.
âSomeone?â he repeated, catching him right away. âHow are you so calm?â he accused, his fingers curling into his palms. âThat someone was your girlfriend,â Kento added, his jaw tightening in an anger that rarely surfaced. âHow are you so calm over her going missing through the night? What if she had gotten seriously hurt?â
Suguru adjusted his tone quickly, mirroring the concern in Kentoâs voice, not Suguruâs. The result sounded uncanny.
âBut she wasnât hurt, and besides,â Suguru said, turning the accusation back on Kento, âI donât want her to panic, so Iâm being calm for her sake.â
His hand sought yours out again, but you didnât let his touch reach you that time.
Shokoâs eyes widened, as though she had remembered something vital, her hand quickly tapping on the side of the car door as if to jolt her memory. âWait,â she blurted out, sounding half-tired but desperate, trying her best to keep herself steady. âWe went into that cabin nearby or somethingâright? Was it because something happened at the campsite?â
Her question suddenly gave you pause. Yes, there was something along those lines that you did remember. Suguru expressed initial panic because it felt as though there was someone else in the tent, in addition to the two of you, when it should have been just the two of you. You remembered how quickly he tore out of the tent and how he pushed you behind him protectively, before everyone else woke up and agreed to hole up in the nearby lodge. Briefly, you remembered playing cardsâUno, maybe? Then something disrupted the peace againâeither Kento or Shoko noticing it first, before rushing everyone out for a head count.
Just needing to make sure of something, you forced yourself to turn over to look at Suguru, your heart dropping as soon as you noticed just how widely he was smiling. Glancing around, too, everybody seemed to be looking everywhere but at him, as if guided by that same instinctive feeling to avoid that man at all costs, because yes, there was something horribly wrong. When he noticed you looking at him, however, he slowly turned to catch your gaze, but you turned your head away just as quickly, not wanting to face him directly.
âYouâre right,â Kento said quickly, his fingers snapping in realisation. âWe were playing cards, werenât we? All six of us wereââ
âSix?â Satoru interrupted him abruptly, turning briefly to face his friend, his blue eyes wide with panic. âNo, no, no. Thereâs me, you, Shoko,â he nodded back towards you, adding your name to the roster, âand Suguru. Thatâs five, Kento. Five.â
Kento blinked just once, already forming a response that countered his, but his words seemed to die in his throat. A shiver of something unpleasant washed over his body as he was barely able to voice his thoughts. âThen⊠who was the person who sat between us?â
A heavy silence filled the air.
Then at the realisation, Kento could only reply with just one thing.
â...Oh.â
For that charged duration, nobody spoke as a dreadful quiet settled around everyone; the tension rising to a pressure that felt uncomfortable to ignore. Panic brewed all around, but then Suguru, just like before, broke through everyoneâs unease. The way his voice sounded gave the implication that he was enjoying himself, as if he were elated.
âWell, we were all exhausted, werenât we?â he brought up calmly. âWe likely just imagined it.â
âAll of us imagine the same thing?â Shoko replied at last, shaking her head. Her fingers curled into her palms as she struggled to make sense of a thought, before nodding her chin up, coming to focus on Satoruâs eyes in the rear-view mirror. âWait. Actually. Can we pull over at the next rest stop?â
Satoru hesitated, but then just as she said it, a gas station rolled into view as if on cue. âSure,â he muttered, too shaken to question the timing of it. âOneâs coming up. We can stop for a bit.â
Suguru leaned back. âSure, maybe some air will do us all some good.â
You, all the while, could not help but feel as if this was all a mistake. The concern in his voice at least sounded real enough, but his intention did not. You found yourself nodding along anyway, at least because you agreed that stretching your legs in a space that did not feel so cramped might help clear things up. Maybe the fresh air could knock some more lost memories back into your head.
When the car came to a stop, you were met with the sight of what looked to be a very old gas station. Everyone scrambled out at once, eager to breathe in what waited outside, but the air felt too thick. There was also no sound just outside; no birds, no insects, no distant cars on the road, and oddly enough, no wind.
Nobody else seemed to care for the time being, too focused on seeking out something comforting instead. Shoko moved out first, aiming to find something caffeinated in the shop that could bring some of her rationality back. Kento disappeared somewhere else, too, his attention caught by an old map that was pinned to a wall. Satoru was already at the counter with a bag of sweets that he grabbed on instinct, his fingers drumming on the surface as he waited for someone to ring him up.
You, otherwise, looked for something passive. Maybe something salty that you could wash down with something refreshing; eating during long journeys always helped calm you down, after all.
Though as you drifted between the aisles, something else felt off. Your eyes dragged around the stock of the shelves, of what occupied the coolers, and even when you reached for a packet of something, you realised it especially then: it was all dated by a couple of decades.
As you caught up around the corner, you caught a glimpse of Shoko, who perhaps noticed the same thing you did.
âUm,â she started, her voice uneven for once. âMy aunt used to talk about this awful iced coffee all of the time,â she said, her gaze settling over a glass bottle in the cooler. âShe said you had to shake it really hard to get the glob of sugar at the bottom to dissolve, claiming it was good if you could look past that.â
You gulped, but tried to reply. âY-yeah?â
âYeah,â she replied, sounding even more distant than ever before. âIt was discontinued by the time I was even a teen, but that damned jingle was stuck in my head for years after.â
âShoko?â you asked, suddenly feeling something akin to dread settle over your shoulders. You looked behind you as she took a step forward, her hand coming to settle over the door of the fridge. Briefly, you spotted Kento open up a book of some kind, hearing the rustle of pages rapidly flicking.
In a voice that was almost flat now, Shoko continued. âMy aunt used to sing it all the time, so of course I remembered it. How did it go again?â
She started hummingâ
Then, not even a second later, Kento let out a sharp sound of surprise, and you could hear something heavy hit the floor with a paper sweep, forcing the light to dim just a little. Closer to the entrance where the counter was, you could hear a âwaitââ escape from Satoruâs lips as the light dipped even darker.
Shoko kept on humming all the while, until she, too, stopped abruptly, as if her attention was caught by something else. A quiet, âohâ left her lips just once, barely audible in the gas station at all. You heard the cooler door open, the bottle clink, and then slip from her hand, only to shatter over the floor, spreading glass all across the tiles.
The interior darkened yet again, but the sharp sound was enough to jolt you into a state of utmost awareness.â
It was then that you remembered that you had not seen Suguru yet, and as if on cueâ
Cold fingers settled over your shoulders, anchoring you into place, feeling heavy and certain. His voice came from behind you, lacking the warmth you desperately needed.
âCareful,â he murmured softly. âYou should really be more aware of your surroundings.â
In an instant, your blood went cold, and you swallowed hard as the memory of the events rushed in all at once. Thatâs right. Suguru was not Suguruâbut you had that suspicion already beforeâeven if it was finalised just now. Whatever it was behind you was merely wearing his face, speaking with his voice and moving with his shape.â
âR-right,â you blurted out, your voice shaky and small. âI-I think I remember, last night, in the woods, when y-you⊠youâŠâ
The air went awfully still as you tried to continue, but whatever was wearing his skin did not move or say anything to stop you, regarding you with complete patience, unlike it had done with the others. God. Your friends were gone, werenât they? Could they have been dead? Did this thing kill them? A tear slipped down your cheek as you struggled to process that very thought at all.
You swallowed a thick gulp down. âW-why? Why him?â
The creatureâs body lowered slightly, its hands moving down from your shoulders to settle around your waist. Its mouth pressed against your neck, inviting a rush of goosebumps to surface from the contact.
âI wish to live amongst people,â it began, âfor a time, I thought it would be easier to replace others, but people are perceptive. Perhaps infiltration and elimination could work better.â
Your throat tightened as you tried to listen along. âBut his lifeâtheir livesâwerenât yours to take.â
âPerhaps not,â it replied with a hum, its grip around your frame tightening a little. âBut, it is my nature to do so, and besides⊠It was lonely, existing as what I am. As I am.â
Just as you tried to move away, it kept you in place, its tone dipping into something even lower. âIf itâll help, I can alter your memory,â it promised. âI could spare you the pain of losing him. I can remove the parts you do not want, so you can live without missing him,â it added. âI do not mind either way.â
âJust kill me too,â you said instead.
The creature paused, but it seemed to struggle with something.
âI want what he had,â it said instead. âI want his life. His place in the world. The loveâacceptance he hadâyou.â
At its words, the fluorescent lights over the interior flickered a pitch darker, all the while you felt its hands dip lower to rest over your hips. It turned you to face it fully then, allowing the illusion to lift significantly. Just as it had once done so before. This creature did not have everything rightâmerely only the essence of what made Suguru, Suguruâbut nothing else: its jaw didnât quite line up, its eyes were sharper, its skin was paler, its hair was duller.
You froze completely as you faced it directly, feeling the terror surface all too quickly, rendering you unable to moveâlet alone think, breathe, or act at all. To it, however, your pause was encouraging, and it took the opportunity to move its mouth over your collarbone, pressing a wet, almost starved kiss upon your prickled flesh.
In an attempt at Suguruâs former cadence, the creature smoothed its voice to the best of its ability. âDonât look so scared, babe,â it assured, its hands reaching over the hem of your top, practically tearing the fabric off. âI just want to take care of you,â it added, pressing those awful kisses over your skin as it spoke. âI can be better. He didnât know how to touch you like this, did he? He didnât know how to make you feel this good, right?â
It continued as you were left unable to replyâunable to scream.
âI can be him if you just let me,â it promised, or rather, almost pleaded, its grip on you tightening as its other hand clawed away the rest of what you wore; the flickering of the nearly dimmed overhead lights feeding your already mounting nausea. âI can be so much better. I can be everything he was supposed to beâeverything he failed to become.â
You tried to move all the while, but it was as if your limbs went heavy, and your body went numb. The sound of denim being pulled from your legs was somehow deafening, and your mind was a mess as it struggled to keep up with what was going on. Its voice was so much like Suguruâs that it must have been the familiarity that anchored you then; its touch was just as curious, too, but even so, it lacked the gentleness of himâthe warmth of him.
Before you could finally react to the terror of it allâa thought finally surfacingâit hoisted you up and forced your legs to spread wide. Its large, heavy hands hooked beneath your thighs, walking a step back to pin you against the gas station wall, keeping you secure in between your chest all the same while. It was then that this all felt horribly familiar again, and you remembered just how it felt last night. A shudder of disgust rippled through your body as you tried to push it off of you, but the blunt force of its arousal was already seeking entry, and you were unable to stop it from pushing inside of you, either.
Almost reluctantly, you dug into its shoulders, desperate to find a glimpse of Suguruâsomehowâeven if your mind was already slipping. Instead, all you found was something denser and thicker. Misinterpreting your touch for acceptance, however, the monster wearing his face found encouragement in the act, beginning to move in and out of you, its body blurring against your own with a heavy, pulsing head. It leaned in a moment after, its mouth trying to find yours, silently begging for reciprocation, but you were successful in turning your head away.â
Even so, your rejection did not deter it.
âYouâll let me work for it, wonât you?â it pleadedâits cock driving into you deeplyâthe weight of its thrusts forcing the air from your lungs. âIâll learn every inch of your body. Iâll make sure you canât remember him. Iâll be betterâso much fucking betterââ
The sensation of it was becoming all too much, though, and your mind was already in the process of faltering around what it, at this point, barely held onto. The boundary between the monster assaulting you and the man you loved dissolved into something dreadful and numb. All the while, those awful fluorescent lights flickered above you relentlessly, causing nightmarish shadows to cast all around you, highlighting the wrongness in its face.
Almost desperately, you asked it, wanting it to play along, even, just so that you could feel something other than despair.
âAre you really him?â you asked, hoping that this was all a nightmare from the start.
The creature before you slowed down, though the pressure of it kept you pinned against the wall. For a heartbeat, the silence had gripped you both, but then its face twitched and shifted, settling back to resemble Suguru, as if reminded that it was important to keep up the illusion.
âPleaseââ you begged.
And in a voice that was soft and eerily close to Suguruâs, something convincing enough had finally come out.
âOf course itâs me,â it whispered, holding onto a perfect mimicry of how Suguru used to sound. It assured you so thoroughly, so gently, especially so as it leaned into your cheek then, pressing something soft and affectionate over your tear-stained skin. âDonât be silly. Iâm right here.â
The lie was so seamless that it was all that your mind needed to finally break, even if its face was still wrong in some parts, or if its skin felt too strangeâthe sound of its voice was calling to you, begging with equal desperation for you to hold onto the illusion of what this all was. You let out a shaky breath, leaning in to chase after the delusion. Your lips found their own, choosing the comfort of the lie over the horror of the truthâand itâall the whileâtook advantage of what it could.
Pushing itself deeper, it bucked into you with increasing abandon, chasing after your acceptance far more frantically than ever before.
âYes, yes, itâs okay,â it groaned, genuine pleasure threading its voice by now, sounding just as hungry as Suguru might have ever been. âItâs okay. Itâs just us here. Just you and me.â
It deepened the kiss, its breath hot against yours, whispering sweet little filthy promises of how much better it could beâhow it would never leave youâand how, if you tried to leave it, on the other handâhow it would not let you.
And as the friction built to a fever pitch, you stopped fighting what it wasâat least for nowâstopped trying to reconcile the mimicked face of the man you loved and surrendered to insanity instead, simply because that much was easier. You clung to it; your nails cutting into its backâalthough unable to break its skinâyour reluctant climax consuming you at a violent rate, a coil of something hesitant yet overwhelming, shattering your resistance entirely.
Your back arched as your legs trembled in the aftermath; salty, stinging tears rolling down your cheek. Pleasure wasnât the right word for what you felt just then. That orgasm felt wrong: forced, stolenâreserved for someone else. You were left gasping and unable to stop yourself from breaking out into a sob as the sheer weight of the horror caught up to you all at once. God. It was horrible. Awful. It all rushed back into your lungs in a way that felt cold and suffocating. You tried to push yourself away from the beast before you, but it kept you grounded in place, and it did not budge at all.
It was almost comedic. Almost bizarre. Butâ
It tried to comfort you.
âIâve got you,â it soothed with a hushed whisper, reflecting Suguruâs voice perfectly now. âIâm right here, babe. Iâm not going anywhere,â it added, rocking you gently in its arms in an attempt to calm you down. âDonât cry. Iâll make you forget the bad parts.â
And as it dissolved into a mantra of awful promises, you could no longer fight the spell of sleep it was inducing upon you.
Indeed, you started to forget the things that mattered, one by oneâ
Because just why were you out here at all?
And who were you here to begin with?
~~~
After your whole world had gone dark, you awoke the next morning in your own bed, right at home, as if you had never left at all. A dull sense of something akin to a reminder weighed over your shoulders, as if you had forgotten something important. Your head felt full and unfocused, otherwise, as if you were hungover.â
Suguru, on the other hand, was already there as you stirred awake, immediately pressing himself to your side. You flinched without thinking, but then you forced yourself to calm down.
Strange. His proximity had never made you feel that way before.
You chose to ignore it.
âAre you all packed?â you yawned out, feeling a sense of deja vu washing over you.
Your hands reached over to find his body out of habit, meeting with flesh that felt oddly cold instead of the usual warmth you were used to, but the unease buried itself away as quickly as it surfaced.
A hum left his lips. âYeah, about that. I rescheduled it.â
You blinked.
âThatâs alright, isnât it?â he added on a whim. âI figured that I might actually want to spend more time with you than around anyone else.â
You blinked again, feeling some confusion mount: Suguru had otherwise been excited about this trip for weeksâ. But then again, you no longer remembered what had happened at all. Gone were the memories of what happened in the forest, the gas station, let alone of what became of the real him or your friends at all. Everything about it all, in fact, blurred into something unrecognisable and easily forgotten.
All you could do, therefore, was to adapt to the sudden change of pace.
âOh, okay,â you murmured. âSome time together sounds nice, otherwise.â
Suguru smiled at you, pleased by your acceptance. âDoesnât it just?â he asked, watching you carefully with eyes that lacked his usual shine. âSo, how about we start off properly then,â he added, his voice dipping into something suggestive, his hands moving to brush against your skin with familiarity, yes, you noted, but not with belonging.
Regardless, even if something felt off, you leaned into his touch.
âThat okay?â he asked.
âYes,â you nodded along. âThatâs perfectly fine,â you assured him back, tracing your fingers along his ice-cold palms, pressing a kiss onto his lips, tasting ash and smoke and something vaguely sweet.
Pushing down all of the cold dread that threatened to surface.
