#he's the victim with the knife deciding to hunt down the killer if he has to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetypingpup · 1 year

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Off Script: Part 1

banner by @yujaemna

Link to Part 2

Pairing: The Legion!Xiaojun x Yan!Survivor!Female Reader

AU: Dead by Daylight

Genre: smut, aspects of horror

Wordcount: 12.3K

Content: little rundown of the dead by daylight game at the beginning so you don’t need prior knowledge going into this, allusions to violence and death but nothing graphic (xiaojun’s a killer in this so), yandere content (including stalking, obsession, and possessiveness), fingering (female receiving), praise, petnames (sweetheart and baby), oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex, he fucks you against a generator, riding on the couch, little bit of nipple play, knife play, some mask kink, hair pulling (male receiving), no established power dynamics but there’s some switching going on

Taglist: @mint-yooxgi, @hall0ween-twn, @jenoslutie, @yujaemna, @mrkis, @ncteez

The frosted kiss of snowflakes upon your face awakens you. You squint against the snowflakes that land on your skin, melting them with a rub of your fingertips before allowing your eyes to open. You’re surrounded by grass so tall that you have to stand to see above it. The looming overcast and fog is so intense it's impossible to tell if the pervasive haze signifies day or night, though the gloom of shadowed teal indicates that sunlight must be a distant memory. A scattered sprawl of boulders and broken trees lies before you, with snow coated evergreens dotted throughout. Open structures of wood, brick, and concrete are strewn about the grounds, as though the buildings that once were have been dismembered at the seams. A range of snowy mountains looms in the distance beyond the fence of brick towers looped together by steel that mark the boundaries of the territory.

A smile forms on your face as you take in your surroundings. You’ve awakened in this realm before. Mount Ormond Resort has become a favorite location of yours. You wonder how this area, which was once a beacon of relaxed escapism, became such a desolate waste. You don’t know how this place became consumed by the ever present Entity, but you know exactly how to navigate this snow coated domain. The only question is if he appeared here as well.

You start to wander through the grass, searching for the others that appeared in the arena with you. The pursuit of escape is a familiar routine to say the least. Each time you awaken in a new terrain, with no memory of how you arrived, three others awaken with you. The goal is for the four of you to open the doors on either side of the expanse and escape. The price of failure is death, for if you fail, the terror within will hunt you down.

The terror within is different each time. An assortment of killers inhabits this world, killers that vary in skill and ability. The killer that you face changes each time, but the same ruthless drive to murder links them all. You've been through enough of these trials to have encountered each one at least a few times.

Other than the variance in locale and killer, these trials follow a constant format. You attempt to escape, or you fall victim to the evil that lurks about. The killer will chase and wound you with their weapon of choice, until you’re weak enough to be caught and hauled away. Once caught, said killer will mount you onto one of the ghastly hooks strewn about the terrain like a crude offering of meat. Should you fail in escaping its grasp, an unholy entity emerges from the darkness, spears your body with the sharp points of its limbs, and takes your lifeless body into the void above. Your goal is for your group to flee before that happens and survive these horrors.

Ordinarily, the civilians clamor for escape, craving the warm glow of The Campfire that marks the end of the trial. The other option is to succumb to the sweet release of death once the horror and pain of these twisted trials proves to be too much.

You choose neither, instead deciding to be an active player in these games. These trials, a source of terror to so many, are nothing short of thrilling to you. The excitement of the chase, the satisfaction of sabotaging and outsmarting an assailant, the sense of wonderment you feel watching these killers utilize their varied abilities, have all melded together in an addictive adrenaline rush. You deride a great deal of gratification from mastering these trials, taking your time to discover every strategy there is to succeed. To you, a defeat upon one of those grisly hooks is not a harbinger of doom, but rather a spark that sets alight the desire to improve and escape the next time. You have no concept of life beyond this endless loop of death and resuscitation. Since you exist as nothing more than a pawn in this cruel game, you might as well have fun playing.

You locate the others you’re meant to survive with, spotting them hard at work on a generator; a large engine complete with a row of pistons on either side and a floodlight mounted up top. If your group succeeds in activating this one, only four more need to be activated to power the exit doors. You’re already giddy with excitement, all but skipping into the fractured building to join them. The flickering flame perched on a brick beam lights the way as they work. They tinker with the mechanical structure and it begins to whir to life, the cylinders on the side slowly starting to fire off one by one. You aid them, taking your place on the side and fiddling with the machinery. The floodlight begins to come alight as you make progress, glowing brighter the further along you are in repairs. You’ve done this so many times it’s easy to let your hands automatically move over the console, and even easier to let your mind wander. The whirring of the machine, the blaring beam of the lights, the red paint on the accents, all starts to fade from your perception.

You wonder again if you’ll see him this round; the knife wielding killer with a smiling face scrawled onto his ceramic mask.

You’ve only encountered him a few times, but that was just enough to have you fixated. You admire a great many of the killers, but he’s the one that has you this enraptured. For one thing he’s fast, faster than any of the other killers, with the unique ability to mortally wound an entire group with a single burst of speed. It turns the lethargic sense of looming danger into a rapid rush of dread, which excites you to no end. The excitement of his pursuit always courses through you with the speed of a match being struck, igniting a flame of arousal in its wake. That flame is fanned by his sheer revelry in ruthlessness, and the way he wields his hunting knife with such expert malignance. You find yourself contemplating the thought of his knife against your skin, slowly running along your flesh, scintillating your nerves with its sharpness. He thrills you to no end, so much so that you’d often linger as he executes his kills. The advantage of being able to immediately pluck your teammate off the hook is abandoned when you watch him. For a few stolen moments, completing the trial ceases to matter. All that matters is him.

While everyone’s heart races loudly out of trepidation when he’s near, this masked killer has your heart pounding out of titillated desire. You feel yourself getting turned on the more you think about him, wondering how the edge of his blade will feel right against your neck if he does catch you.

Lost in your thoughts, your hand slips on the generator, and you fumble on the console. Sparks fly from the machine and the resulting boom brings you out of your reverie. Everyone hears the telltale sign that the killer is closing in, your tandem heartbeats pounding louder the closer they get. Your companion is shaking, and you can tell that he already feels the sluggish crawl of cortisol through his bloodstream. You on the other hand are invigorated by adrenaline. You all but jump when you see a flash of that mask among the distant trees. It’s him! You don’t know when you’ll encounter him again, and you’ll be damned if you let this opportunity go to waste.

This is your chance.

“I’ll distract him.” You whisper sharply to the others, “Run!”

They don’t need to be told twice. They’re quick to scatter off into the night, hoping to never be found. You know that he’ll be able to catch them with a single charge through the woods, but not this time. This time you’re determined to keep his focus on you. This time, he’ll be pursuing you and only you. You step away from the generator and right into the center of this broken building.

The killer steps past the threshold and into the light. The firelight flickers over the curve of his white mask, a mask that’s been muted with scratches and blood stains. The half lit floodlight casts a glow over the demented smile scrawled on the surface. Your heart pounds as he steps closer, as he clutches his knife tighter in his hand. Even from this distance, his presence is looming. It makes the hoodie and jeans he dons appear as if they’re darkened not by dye, but by the umbrage of the night itself. It makes his weapon seem like more than just a simple hunting knife, but a more imposing, dangerous blade. The jagged serrations towards the point of the spine glint with the threat of added agony should he manage to wound you. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you feel his piercing gaze through the holes poked onto the ceramic cover, drawn to those piercing centers by the circles drawn around them. You focus on those central openings as if you’re staring into his eyes, and in your mind, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Your heart races with glee. Right now it’s just you and him, just as it should be. No one else deserves to be on the receiving end of his intense stare. With a grin, you take off across the realm, and he immediately rounds on your heels.

The realm passes by in a blur of shadowed teal and towering trees as the chase ensues. The grass rustles noisily as you race through, offset by the ruckus of running over different floors. You dash between buildings, vault over boulders, slide past corners, in an effort to outrun him. He matches you move for move, showing no sign of slowing or stopping. You throw down a pallet to block his path, he hops over it. You run through a shed and jump through a window, he leaps after you. You round a corner only to dash in the opposite direction, he catches onto your trick and follows after you. He remains right on your heels just out of reach, so close you can practically feel the sharp end of his blade, and you have to sprint faster just to gain some distance.

This is why you love chases with this killer so much. You have to be faster to outrun him than any of the other killers, which makes your heart pound and your lungs strain from the effort. The sheer exertion of maintaining such intense speed physically stimulates you. You’re made to employ every strategy you’ve acquired in these trials, providing simultaneous stimulation for your mind. Adrenaline merges with alarmed suspense in the most delectable way, forming the arousal that courses through you. He’s making you work for your victory, and you love every moment of it. The intensity of his stare alone is enough to have you pulsing with need, and now that you have his full attention, now that you have him this close, pure desire starts to bloom within you.

You know exactly where to lead him next.

The killer is grinning behind his mask, his grin only widening as he closes in. He pays no heed to the way the grass gives way to wooden floorboards underfoot as he follows you. Chasing you is the most fun he’s had in ages. You managed to make him break a sweat in this freezing terrain. The challenge you posed has been thrilling to say the least, but now he’s closing in. He’s so close to catching you, so close to achieving payoff for such an intense challenge. He raises his knife, ready to bring it down with a brutal stab, ready to execute a satisfying kill.

But you don’t continue to flee. Instead you stop and turn to face him, not moving, not even flinching as he advances. He’s so stunned that by the sudden shift he halts, the point of his knife hovering right at your collarbone. Only the rise and fall of your chest brings you in contact with the knife for brief moments at a time.

The frenzy of the chase begins to fade, his heart still hammering from the rush as he takes in his surroundings. He sees that you led him into the decrepit chalet that was once the center of the resort, but is now the center of this cursed arena. The blight of age and frost has deteriorated every corner of this place, from the office to the side, to the bar tucked away in the back, to the rooms situated up and around the main area. Black spray paint is scrawled all along the chipping walls and only adds to the sense of disrepair. The roof is so dilapidated that snowfall seeps through, and icicles line the splintered roofbeams. Broken windows fogged up with frost let in whistling gusts of wind and blasts of snow, snow that collects in piles on the ground. The only fixtures that haven’t completely decayed are the fireplace at the center of the room that’s connected to the ceiling with a chimney reminiscent of a furnace pipe, and the conversation pit situated in a circle around it.

You must have stopped in here to offer yourself as a sacrifice, the way so many have before. He can’t fathom another reason to stop mid chase. Except, he notices that you haven’t stopped him in some corner on the far side of the room, pausing when you realize there’s nowhere left to go. You’ve stopped right next to the generator by the stairs, right next to the very thing you need to activate in order to escape. But you don’t. You don’t make any move other than to lean against the rustic contraption, holding your ground even with the blade dangerously close to piercing your skin, tilting your head with coquettish intent. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume that you wanted him to catch you.

It’s certainly an interesting thought.

He takes a single step back to get a better look at you. Even in the dim cover of shadow, your visage is completely illuminated, as if capturing the glow of the fire and claiming it for yourself. It makes it easy for his eyes to rove over your form, and that’s when he realizes-

It’s you! You’re the one that keeps getting away.

He’s only seen you a few times before, when The Entity decides you should be among the next batch of people he hunts and kills. You’ve always stood out amongst the scores of people subjected to these trials. You’ve always been quicker, more clever than the others. You’ve never shied away from the brutality or cowered in terror. You don’t even seem to fear The Entity, which made you stand out even more. He could never corner you before now, could barely ever get you within reach, but the chase with you was always the most exhilarating. You’ve made him work for it, made him be more agile and quick just for the chance to catch you. With you, he simply had to be better. So even though you always manage to elude him and escape, he finds a round far more satisfying if you are among the humans clamoring for survival. You give him a good enough challenge that he feels his blood pumping faster than before.

He’s only ever seen you in fleeting glances as the landscape whizzes by in a blur, never long enough to take in any detail. In this moment of stillness, he gets to truly gaze upon you for the first time, and he’s in absolute awe. Simply put, he can’t believe just how attractive you are. From your pretty face, to the appealing shape of your body, he’s drawn to every part of you. In his eyes you’re downright alluring, perfect in every way. He’s never encountered anyone this tempting before, and the confidence you exude makes you all the more enticing.

“I was wondering when you’d finally catch me.” Your quip breaks the silence, and your boldness has him taken aback.

“Finally?” He questions curiously, “You’ve been waiting for this?”

You reply with a grin, “More than you know. Took you long enough, by the way. I was thinking you’d never pull it off.”

It seems you’re intent on presenting a challenge in more ways than one, which only tantalizes him more. He struck gold with you.

“Well aren’t you bold?” As bold as you are beautiful, though he reigns in that musing to maintain some veneer of control. Slowly, he runs his knife right along your face, lightly enough to barely ghost your skin. He continues to admire you, his line of sight following the path of his blade. He eyes your alluring features as he traces the knife along the curve of your face and down to your neck. The phantom touch has you shivering in excitement before him. He places the blade right at the soft part beneath your jaw, right where it gives way to the flesh of your neck, “Alright, you have my attention. What is it you want from me?”

He’s been in this situation before, though admittedly there’s never been this much tension sparking in the air like static. But regardless, he’s cornered a person before, so he knows how this goes. He’s certain that your next words will be a plea for him to spare the others, telling him whatever you feel you have to so you’ll let them pass through the exit alive. Maybe you’ll make an appeal for your own life, offer the others so that you might have a chance to escape. He’s fully expecting the same dull appeals he’s heard countless times, but your next words have him stunned.

Instead of reciting some recycled plea for mercy with an equally overdone shrill cry, you request in a rather sultry voice, “I want to see what’s under that mask of yours.”

The suggestive undertones echo loudly, lingering in the air amidst the heavy silence that follows.

Well, this is new. People have wanted to unmask him before, but that was always so they could try to catch him off guard, or otherwise leave him exposed. No one has ever wanted to unmask him out of a want to see what lies beneath. He’s never inspired such infatuation in someone before, though to be fair he didn’t think it was possible in this environment. Hearing your emphatic confession has him considering that possibility, has him drawn that much more to you, has him pressing you right against the generator in the middle of the room. You start panting softly at this, unable to contain your eagerness.

These trials present only two options, escape or death, but you’ve somehow presented a third. No one has ever been this bold before, nor has anyone expressed such shameless interest in him. It’s refreshing, like an early winter chill, one that’s instantly followed by a wave of heated hedonistic hankering. He hasn’t felt the touch of another since before he had gotten trapped in this godforsaken figment of reality. He had forgotten there was more to existence aside from the endless pursuit of victims. He didn’t know people could feel anything towards him besides fear, not until now.

He didn’t know he was capable of feeling such lust until now, but you have him absolutely enraptured. You’re so fucking gorgeous he can’t help his attraction to you, which is as instant as it is intense. His mind wanders the longer he stares at you. He’s transfixed by the rise and fall of your chest in time with your breathing. He wonders how your breasts would feel in his hands, and how you would sigh in bliss as he fondles them. Your hands clutch the pipe arched over the generator. He wonders what they would feel like running all over his body, or wrapped around his cock. He wants to make you come undone for him, to bring you to the height of pleasure over and over until you’re trembling. He wants to make you moan, make you cry out, make you beg for more. He wants to tell you his name just so you have something to scream when he makes you cum, just so you have something to remember when he makes all your other thoughts vanish.

The heated glint in your eyes tells him your mind is reeling with equally depraved thoughts about him. The way your frosted breath puffs from your lips and fans out over the smile on his mask is enticing to say the least. He wonders what you would do, what he would do, without the barrier of his mask between you. Which of you would be the first to close the distance between your lips? At present, it’s truly anybody’s game.

Perhaps now is the time for a new sort of game, especially since you’re so willing to play.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you see my face,” He ponders aloud, pressing the knife right against your racing pulse, “But you’ll have to earn it.”

The wispy waver in your voice tells him you’re already brimming with titillation, “How do I do that?”

“Keep my attention. Show me why I should reveal myself to you.” He quips playfully, wondering if you’ll be just as much of a tease.

Though instead of playing coy right back, you all but blurt out what you want, “What if I satisfy you? Show you pleasure beyond what you’ve ever felt before? Would that make me worthy enough to see your face?”

Now it’s his turn to hear his racing heartrate in his ears, but he retains his composed hum as he speaks, “Perhaps it would. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

With his free hand, he reaches down to undo his pants. Your line of sight is instantly drawn down between his legs, your lower lip retreating beneath your teeth. You can see that he’s already half hard from the pent up tension, which only serves to make you crave him more. He lazily strokes his cock, your eyes following the motion of his hand. You swallow, your mouth already starting to water as you watch. He chuckles at this, “I’ll let you please me, and if I’m fully satisfied, I’ll let you have a glimpse beneath my mask. Sound fair?”

“Yes.” You barely get the word out before you’re already lowering to your knees. The moment your knees meet the floor, you’re replacing his hand with your own, stroking his length.

“Guess I won’t be needing this right now.” From the corner of your eye you see his grip loosening on the knife, and you’re quick to comment.

“No, keep it.” You insist, peering up at him through your lashes, “I wanna feel it against my skin while I suck you off.”

“You’re even kinkier than I thought. I like that.” He obliges you, bringing the blade up to your throat. His voice deepens to a sensual timbre, accented by the cold press of the blade, “Now suck.”

Slyly, you pull his pants down more and press a kiss to both of his hips, sending pleasant shudders through him. Then, slowly, you take the head of his cock into your mouth. From the moment you wrap your lips around him, he’s already moaning out in pleasure. Your lips feel so fucking good wrapped around the tip, and the way your tongue toys with the head already has his toes curling. You start to take him in deeper and fuck the way you engulf him is downright scintillating. His other hand rests on your head, pushing you down further, already wanting to feel more. You keep up easily, bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace, letting your tongue trace patterns along the underside. Your hand wraps around the rest of his length, working in tandem with your mouth.

Though muffled by his mask, his moans are unmistakable, seeping through the ceramic cover like the snow seeping through the broken roof. The slick wet sounds of your mouth moving up and down overpower the crackling of the fire and the persistent whistle of the wind. He’s already submerged in pleasure, pushing your head down to take him deeper and deeper with every bob. Pleasure flows through him in time with your motions, overtaking his mind with wanton need. He almost forgets about the knife in his hand until he sees the blade glint when he looks down, and that’s when an idea comes to mind.

He taps your chin with the tip of his knife, prompting you to, “Look at me, baby.”

His breath hitches sharply when your eyes meet. Your gaze emits a surge of arousal so intense his cock twitches in your mouth. He manages to keep the knife steady against your neck, and he clutches it tighter to anchor himself, elsewise he would surely unravel right before your eyes. Half of him wants to let his eyes slide shut in bliss, while the other half wants to take in the way the firelight flickers over your gorgeous face.

“Fuck, you look so pretty, baby.” He can’t help but let the musing slip, letting the visage of control slip just a bit. It’s just so easy to lose himself in the pleasure you give him, to let his mind go blank and just enjoy the wet heat of your mouth and the soft warmth of your hand. It’s so easy to endear you with praise and pet names, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s worth it, seeing your eyes come alight and feeling the vibrations of your excited hums.

You pull back with and stroke his cock at a brisk pace, gasping out a plea for him to, “Keep talking to me. You sound so fucking hot.”

“That’s it sweetheart, don’t stop.” He guides your head back down onto his cock, “Keep using that pretty mouth of yours.”

The praise has your mind reeling, pride swelling in your chest. Even as your mouth works the turgid flesh of his cock, the corners of your lips turn upwards in a proud smile. Every pet name and endearment makes your chest warm with elation, and makes your core pulse with arousal. Reveling in the way his cock fills your mouth, you pick up the pace. You suckle faster, harder, in time with his rough grunts and groans for more. You move down lower and lower, until your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of the tip breaching your throat. Every time you swallow, you feel the cold, sharp press of his knife against your throat, your heart racing at the sensation. His hips buck in time with your motions up and down on his cock, and before you know it, your nose meets the zipper of his hoodie with every thrust.

You look up intently, staring up at the ivory colored cover over his face, and the cruel smile scratched onto the surface. With the barrier of the mask, you’re made to focus on the sounds emitted from within, on his filthy words and guttural moans of pleasure. There’s something melodic to his voice that makes it sound like he’s singing your praises, and it makes pure, aching need radiate from between your legs. Your other hand slips into your pants, pressing against your clit to try and seek some relief. He sounds so fucking good, and you wanna hear more.

“You’re so good at this baby, so fucking good. Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” He pants shamelessly, and it takes everything in you not to cum from his praise alone. You’ve managed to make him come apart already, managed to unthaw his icy resolve with the liquid heat of lust. You can tell he’s getting close from the way his cock throbs in your mouth, from the way his balls tense against your chin. You pick up the pace, sucking faster to bring him to climax. Your other hand fondles his balls, softly enough to tease and titillate, keeping him enveloped in you as you bring him closer to release. He stops you before you right before he cums, tugging you off his cock with a hand in your hair, letting out rasping gasps for air.

Right as you’re about to question him, he answers the query forming on your tongue, “Don’t wanna cum yet. I wanna fuck you first.”

Despite being out of breath, you manage to smirk and breathlessly quip, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You’re quick to stand and lean back against the generator, spreading your legs so he can slot himself between them. Anticipation has your hands working quickly to undo your pants and shove them out of the way, already aching to feel his touch on your bare skin. You barely manage to step out of one pant leg before he pulls you closer with a growl, “C’mere baby. Lemme get you ready for me.”

It’s flattering as well as erotic to see that he’s just as impatient as you. With a strong grasp, he hitches your leg over his hip, bringing you flush against him. That same hand trails down to your inner thigh, before stopping right between your legs. Even through your panties, the contact makes your breath hitch sharply. He strokes your folds through the fabric, the slight stimulation making you shudder already.

“You’re so wet for me baby.” He murmurs, fingers curling into the garment to move it to the side, “Is all this because of me?”

“Don’t be so fucking smug.” You retort, grabbing his shoulders for balance, “I just had you begging for me.”

“And here you are, soaking wet just from sucking my dick.” He tilts his head, leaning in close enough to mutter right in your ear, “Do you really need me that bad?”

“No more than you need me.” Your fiery retort fizzles out into gasping embers on your tongue the moment his fingers slide between your bare folds.

“Hmm, what was that sweetheart? I didn’t quite catch that.” He hums, chuckling at your wanton moan before he keeps going. Even as he brushes over your clit with meandering strokes, he has you close to losing yourself completely. You arch your hips up into his touch as he rubs circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. The sound of your needy whimpers delights him, and he picks up the pace so he can hear more.

Your head tilts back the moment his finger pushes past your entrance. By now your mind is beyond hazy with need, and the relief of finally feeling him inside you has you whining aloud. He thrusts slowly, the slide slickened by the gloss of your arousal. He adds another finger soon after, already feeling you open up for him. The slick friction within you has your mind racing and has a litany of breathy, curse ridden moans pouring from your lips. His thumb keeps rubbing circles over your clit, fueling the flames of pleasure that rage hot enough to burn. You grab onto his shoulders tighter, clutching the fabric of his hoodie for balance as your legs tremble. His fingers move with expert deftness, and you can’t help but whimper, “How the fuck are you so good at this?”

He smirks behind his mask, reaching that tender spot that has you gasping at the sudden surge of elevated pleasure, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

In truth he’s going off of innate conjecture, simply responding to the cues from your body and the wavering pitch of your voice, but it’s fun to tease you this way. He massages your sweet spot with come hither motions, further submerging you in bliss. Just to add to your ecstasy, he wields his knife with his other hand, cutting your shirt open before placing it right between your collarbone and the top of your breast. The blade slowly drags over your skin, the scape of pain sparking static flares of pleasure that have you clenching around his fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry out and arch up against the sharp edge of the blade just to feel more. He keeps going easily, wielding his knife with expert deftness, dragging the edge right over your racing heart. He makes you feel the intensity of the blade without breaching the skin, all while ravaging you with his fingers. The only thing that keeps you from writhing in his grasp is the threat of the knife piercing your flesh, the looming danger of which has adrenaline mixing with pleasure in the most delectable way.

If it wasn’t for that damn mask, you’d surely be moaning right against his lips and letting your tongue stroke his own. Your mind reels envisioning what he looks like beneath that mask, and it anchors you to this moment. Would his brows crease the longer he pleases you? Would his lips remain parted as he stares at you? Is his intense stare one of carnal hunger, amorous desire, or some combination of the two?

As good as he’s making you feel, you want to feel even more. You want something bigger and thicker than just his fingers, something that connects you to him fully. Your back arches, pressing your chest right against his. Your body craves even more contact, even more sensation, even more of him.

“Fuck me already.” You plead, earnest desire shining in your eyes, “Please, I want you to fuck me, now.”

Neither of you waste another moment. With his aid, you’re perched right against the generator, precariously balanced right on the edge of the jutting console. He grabs your hip and both of you moan aloud as he slides into you with ease. He eases his way all the way inside you, fully enveloping himself in your tight heat, groaning all the while at how good you feel around him. Rocking his hips, he starts to fuck you right against the generator, keeping the blade pressed against you all the while.

The rustic engine creaks loudly and rocks with every thrust, but neither of you pay this any heed. All he’s focused on is how you’re practically sucking him in with every thrust, and all you can focus on is the feeling of being stretched out on his cock. He fucks you at a steady pace before gradually picking up speed, smoothly rolling and gyrating his hips to make you gasp out in pleasure. The knife provides the perfect press of pain to have you spiraling into a whirlwind of bliss. You both come apart easily, melting into each other, merged right at your thrusting hips as you grind against each other in search of sensation. Despite the pervasive frost, heat builds between you both intensely enough to have sweat beading on your brow.

“So good.” He groans languidly, drawing out the syllables, the forehead of his mask pressed to yours, “You feel so fucking good baby, fuck.”

You clench around him at this, making him moan louder. You buck your hips to meet his thrusts, trying to get him even deeper, trying to feel him even more. Your mind blanks, your body absolutely alight with bliss, and you pant out moan after wanton moan. He shifts the angle ever so slightly, just enough to have him reaching another soft spot deep inside you. The action makes you keen aloud and tossing your head back, arms wrapping around his neck, “Fuck yes, right there! Right there, yes! Harder!”

Tossing his knife aside, he uses both hands to grasp your ass instead, pounding right against that spot. He pistons his hips, faster and faster as the moments pass, grunting in pleasure all the while. The head of his cock presses right against that tender spot over and over with each thrust, your breathing reduced to rasping puffs of air as you try to keep up. He rails you with reckless abandon, surges of pure euphoria coursing through you at a breakneck pace. You take it all in eagerly, greedily, grabbing him tighter so you don’t completely slip away.

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it.” He mutters, his voice lowered to a rough growl, “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. Can’t get enough of this pussy.”

Unbeknownst to you, a couple of the other people trapped in this trial sneak near the chalet in search of a generator. Their hearts begin racing being in such close proximity to the killer, but they inch closer nonetheless. They peek through one of the busted windows, only to see you getting railed right against the generator they need to power to escape, only to hear him groaning shamelessly about how good you feel while you let out choked cries of bliss. They scurry off in search of another generator, though even their loud footsteps can’t be heard over the cacophony of carnal decadence within.

Caution has been tossed to the winter wind. Right now, the circumstances that led you here; the trial and the looming evil that permeates this world, don’t fucking matter. All that matters is the profound pleasure you feel, the intensity of your close proximity, and the satisfaction that you finally have each other within your grasp. The coil of ecstacy curls tighter in your core with each passing moment, signifying your impending release. His pace starts to falter, hips stuttering, signifying that he’s right there with you chasing his high.

“Gonna cum baby.” He manages to breathe out between rough groans, grabbing onto you tighter to anchor himself, “Wanna feel you cum right on my cock.”

“Cum in me. Please I wanna feel you cum in me so fucking bad” Your plea sounds like a half delirious babble, but he hears you loud and clear.

A few more thrusts and he’s stilling against you with a drawn out groan, spurts of liquid release shooting deep inside you. Feeling his cock pulse with every spurt of cum has you careening over the edge of ecstasy. The infernos of euphoria sweep through your body in blazing waves that consume you whole, making tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you scream. You shudder and tighten around him in fluttering pulses through your orgasm as he works you through it, suspended right in the throes of pure, primal passion.

You pant heavily as you cum down, letting your hands slip from his shoulders down to either side of the generator. He likewise loosens his grip on your ass, though his hands still rest on the curve of your cheeks. You lean back and away from him, just to get a reprieve from the intense heat. The pervasive winter chill settles over you both, cooling you in just the right way.

Your query breaks the silence, “So, have I earned it?”

“Earned what?” He questions, still somewhat out of breath.

“Getting to take your mask off.” You quirk a brow and chuckle, “Have you forgotten already?”

“In my defense, my mind has been occupied for the last little while.” He slyly replies, running his hand along your bare thigh, “Can’t imagine why.”

You huff out a laugh that brings with it a puff of cold air, “Yea that’s a real mystery.”

“But I’d say yes, you’ve earned it sweetheart.” Pushing back his hood, he reaches behind his head, undoing the fastening that keeps the mask in place. You straighten up attentively, eager to see him fully. Finally you’re getting what you’ve been waiting for. You can’t keep the smile off your face when you see him lower the mask and move it aside. The ceramic no longer conceals his face and oh…wow…

You assumed he would be hot. You hoped he would be hot, but the face staring back at you is nothing short of stunning perfection. You’re drawn right to his sharp eyes, so intense you can easily get lost in them. His smooth skin glows in the radiance of the firelight, the highpoints of his face reflecting the flickering gleam. Your line of sight roves over his thick black eyebrows, his raised cheekbones, his sharp jawline, and you’re left wondering how the hell someone can be this beautiful. He’s a living contradiction, with long hair gray as ashen snow framing a face that exudes youthful elegance. The personification of regal beauty stands just across from you, the kind of beauty that must be shielded from hellish landscapes like this one. Perhaps that’s why he wore the mask. You don’t know. All you know is that the bow shaped pout of his lips looks so soft, you want to pull him in for a kiss and never let up.

Smug pride doesn’t begin to encapsulate what you feel when you realize that you’re the only one that gets to witness such beauty.

Your expression must be one of stunned bewilderment, because he comments on it with a bemused chuckle, “You can pick your jaw up off the floor, sweetheart. I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

You adamantly refute this with a shake of your head, “No, on the contrary. You look even better than I ever envisioned.”

“Am I really that hot?” He jests, huffing out a laugh.

“Better.” You tell him earnestly, “You look like royalty.”

You reach out to him, fitting your hand to the curve of his face. He lets you, and even leans into your touch ever so subtly, which has a giddy sense of glee blooming in your chest. The longer you stare, the more heat rises to the surface of your cheeks. You’ve seen his face, claimed your ultimate prize, and it’s even better than you could’ve imagined. All of this begs the question; what do you do now?

As far as you’re concerned, there’s only one thing to do.

A moment later, both of you close the distance with a series of searing kisses. Already you’re moaning into each other’s mouths as you savor the softness of each other’s lips. Already you’re grasping at each other as you try to get impossibly closer. You’ve been wanting to kiss each other the whole night, so now is your time to ravenously indulge.

Without breaking contact, he helps you off the generator, leading you over to the couches that line the conversation pit. He falls back onto one of the curved cushions of the couch, pulling you down with him by the hips. Your tongue slips past his lips and meets his, and he eagerly parts his lips to let you lick into his mouth. Your tongues come together with each kiss, sensually stroking each other, and you moan right into each other’s mouths. His hand comes up to the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as your own hand runs through his hair. You straddle his lap, letting yourself settle right on top of him as you continue to make out.

Now that he’s finally kissing you, he only wants you more. Your lips feel so fucking good against his, so soft and perfect, and he never wants to stop feeling you. Hearing your satisfied hums against his lips only adds to his delight. He wants to keep being your source of enjoyment, the reason for your sighs of content and your cries of ecstasy. He wants to keep exploring your beautiful body, to discover all the ways to make you feel good, to shield you from the harsh winter chill by kindling the fires of fervent desire. Most importantly, he wants to be the only one to do so. Fatigue from such intense sex is the only thing keeping him from acting on his desire to give you more. Besides, he quite enjoys languidly kissing you like this. It’s pleasant to say the least.

The apples of your cheeks simmer with the heat of infatuation, searing hotter as his thumb starts running over the curve of your face with every kiss. Your heart soars at the fond interest you feel emanating off of him, which is just as potent enough to match your own. You never want to leave his side, never want him to stop dousing you in such intimate affection. Pleasure was fun, but this is just as rewarding. Sharing kisses is just as satisfying as sharing orgasms, and now that you’ve done both with him, you’re over the moon with elation. Having the exact source of your obsession in your arms like this fills you with covetous joy, and you don’t plan on letting him go any time soon.

The kisses you exchange get gentler and gentler until they come to a stop, that sensual softness building between you taken over by the pull of slumber. Before you know it, the only sounds in the room are the crackle of the flame, the ever present trill of the winter wind, and the soft sound of your breathing. The last thing you remember is resting on the rise and fall of his strong chest, and the soft warmth of his lips upon your cheek.

Beyond the bounds of your perception, the dark entity that reigns over this cursed domain feeds off your emotions, and thus lets you remain to indulge in each other for the time being.

*****

You don’t know how long you’ve been asleep. The endless night makes it so you can never tell how much time passes. It could’ve been a few hours, it could’ve been a matter of days. You have no way to know. The sky is just as dark and the snowfall is just as heavy as before, so it’s truly anyone’s guess as to how long you’ve been here.

You hear the telltale cry of agony and anguish as someone gets mounted on a distant hook. The bellowing, otherworldly snarl that follows tells you The Entity has come to claim yet another unlucky soul. Mild disappointment settles in your chest when you realize you missed a chance to watch him kill again. You suppose your time with him is over.

You tug your clothes back in place, planning to depart through one of the gaping holes in the wall. Surely at least one of the exits is open now. Surely the others couldn't have been that incompetent. Time to survive yet another trial. That disappointment festers and permeates as you scan the walls in search of an opening in the worn wood. You don’t want to leave to face another killer that’s not him, especially now after you’ve just been so intimately entwined. You glumly ponder how long it might be before you get to see him again.

Before you can make it away from the couch, he advances on you with a burst of speed. In the blink of an eye his body is pressed against yours, his arms are wrapped around you, and the edge of his knife is laid against your throat. He murmurs, low and rough in your ear, “Where do you think you’re going sweetheart?”

He’s still here! Fuck, this is the first time he managed to catch you off guard, and it’s even more thrilling than you ever imagined. That familiar match of arousal is stricken up your spine, prompting you to let out a soft moan. The cover of white in the corner of your eye tells you his mask is back on, that the latest unlucky victim didn’t have the privilege of seeing the beauty that’s concealed within. He’s fired up from a fresh kill, and your pulse pounds between the serrations on the back of his blade.

You shrug, though you settle into his arms, “Going back to The Campfire. Shouldn’t you be off to another realm by now?”

“That only happens if everyone here either dies or runs off, and as far as I can see, you still remain.” The frosted wisps of his breath tickle the side of your neck and drive a warm shiver through your body.

“Then hook me, or let me pass through the exit, so we can complete this trial.” You tell him, though your reluctance to continue that endless loop seeps through in your voice. After waiting for so long you finally got the chance to have him, and you’ll be damned if you let this go to waste. But the warmth of The Campfire calls, and the image of its flaming light flickers at the forefront of your mind.

Thankfully, he seems to have the same mindset, for he admits that, “As far as I’m concerned, the game’s not over yet. I’m having way too much fun playing with you baby, and I have a feeling you wanna keep playing with me too.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You waited so long for this, and there’s no way you want to stop now. The piercing frigidness of the blade against your neck contrasts the warmth of his body, and you want nothing more than to melt in his embrace. You want to keep feeling his touch all over you, for him to fully acquaint himself with your body, to give yourself to him completely. Now that you’ve seen his face, you want to feel his lips join the fray and grant you pleasure. Just thinking about it makes you ache for the possibilities.

Seeking to add to your desire, his other hand slowly trails down your side as he hums right in your ear, “Why go back out there in the cold, when I can keep you warm in here?”

His words sound rather intimate, warmed by the smooth, endearing lilt with which he spoke them. His query rolled off the tongue so naturally neither obscure the moment by questioning it. Heat brims right at the surface of your cheeks and your heart flutters rapidly. Both sensations are only intensified as he grasps right where your hip meets your leg, wordlessly requesting to keep going. You arch up against him and grant him access, letting your thighs part just enough for him to slip his hand in your pants between your legs. His fingers find your clit instantly and you whine at the sudden surge of pleasure, whimpering as he slowly strokes your sensitive bundle of nerves. He strokes you at a meandering pace, keeping his focus right in your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to have you moaning in his arms. Already his touch sets your body ablaze. Already you crave more of what he has to offer. Already you’re sinking into his touch. The press of the knife keeps your body tense enough to remain upright, because without it, you would’ve surely melted into the floor by now.

“Besides, I can’t possibly let you go now.” He murmurs right in your ear, his voice sending pleasant shudders down your spine, “You’ve seen me without my mask. How do I know you won’t just reveal my identity to the next batch of victims?”

You halt his motions by grabbing his wrist for emphasis, turning your head just enough to smirk at him, “Because I want you all to myself.”

His eyes widen in shock, stunned again by your words alone. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. You’re just full of surprises.

You surprise him yet again by turning around in his grasp, taking off his mask so quickly he barely has a chance to react. You fit your hand to the curve of his face as the blade rests against the curve of your neck, though there’s not a hint of fear in your voice when you speak, only avid affinity, “I’m the only one that got to see this stunning face. I don’t wanna share this with anyone else.”

You lean in closer, your face so close he can almost feel your mouth against his when you say, “I want to be the only one to ever see you like this, the only one to please you. I want my lips to be the only ones you’ll ever feel against yours. I want my embrace to be the only one you fall into. I want to be the only one you give yourself too. I want you to be mine, all mine.”

He stands there in shock, lips parted to speak but he’s stunned to silence. It’s like you reached into the deepest recesses of his mind to draw out his innermost desires, desires he didn’t even know were present until you brought them to the forefront. He’s never had someone so enamored he inspires such possessive infatuation, though to be fair he’s never afforded himself the chance. But he wants what you’re offering. He wants you to overtake him completely. He wants it so bad, and he didn’t even realize how much until you brought it out of him. He wants to be yours, just as he now wants you to be his. No one else should have you, and he doesn’t want to give himself to anyone else.

“Then what are you waiting for?” He leans in, almost close enough for your lips to touch, “Make me yours, sweetheart.”

When your lips meet, an inferno of decadent desire blazes within you both. Your kisses are messy presses of lips, the slick slide only enticing you more. You grasp the hair on the back of his head, and his knife falls to the floor with a clatter, his hands finding purchase on your ass once again. You fall back onto the couch and pull him on top of you, just as he had done with you not long before. His thighs rest on either side of your hips, his tongue running over the swell of your bottom lip, requesting access to your mouth. You’re quick to pull him closer, grabbing his shoulders while you let your tongue mingle with his. Already, his hips are rolling against yours, grinding against you as he moans into your mouth.

He’s yours. No one else’s, just yours. An avaricious growl deepens your moans as you move your hands down, grabbing hold of the zipper of his hoodie. He nods, silently telling you to take it off. You make short work of the zipper before sliding the garment off his shoulders. He ardently reveals himself to you, and you move to do the same, sitting up to grab the hem of your shirt and tug it off. You discover he was only wearing a simple tank top beneath the hooded sweatshirt that leaves little to the imagination, and the sight of his muscular arms and toned chest has your breath hitching.

“Oh wow…” He emits a low sound of awe at the sight of you without your shirt, his eyes instantly drawn to your breasts.

“Like what you see?” You quip, tilting your head slyly.

“Love what I see.” Is his growled response. You feel his hums against your skin as he leans in and peppers kisses all over your chest, exploring the slope of your breasts with his eager mouth. You sigh in content and arch up against him, loving the soft warmth of his lips against your skin. It’s so easy to lose yourself to him, to let yourself go and let lust take over, to sit back and take in the sensations he gives you. He kisses his way down your body, his lips lingering at your belly as he unfastens your pants. He takes his time tracing the contour of your waist with his mouth, slowly making his way down to your hips, making pleasant rushes flutter through you. He eases your pants down your legs, and you lift your hips to aid the slide. He pauses once your panties are exposed, rubbing your clit with his thumb right through the fabric.

“You’re already so wet, baby.” He stares right at the wet spot in the center of your panties in awe, watching it get even wetter right before his eyes.

Instead of a snarky quip, you confess with a soft sigh and run your fingers through his hair, “You make me feel good.”

He peers up at you with an impish grin that has no right being as attractive as it is, “I bet I can make you feel even better.”

“And how would you do that?” You tilt your head curiously, though you already know the answer to your own question.

He curls his fingers in your panties, not taking them off just yet, wanting to tell you exactly what he means first, “Well, you did make me feel really good when you went down on me earlier. It’s only fair that I return the favor, right sweetheart?”

“Sounds fair to me. Go for it.” You nod emphatically, already clenching around nothing at the thought of him using his tongue on you.

Your approval spurs him on. He shucks your panties down in one smooth motion, kneeling on the floor before you. You turn and spread your thighs, and he’s quick to move between them, his tongue already making its way between your folds. The first drag of his tongue against your folds has you moaning aloud, head tipping back against the couch. He licks at you slowly, taking in the way you taste, letting the tip of his tongue flick your clit before he’s diving back in. His hands grip your thighs as he presses in deeper, his nose brushing against your clit as his tongue laps up the slick arousal seeping from your entrance.

“Fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” He rasps out in bewilderment, and before you can answer, his lips latch right onto your sensitive bundle of your nerves. He suckles slowly, drawing out the pleasurable sensations and drawing languid moans from between your lips. You grab onto his hair, pulling it up and away from his face.

How he manages to look so pretty from this angle is beyond you. His full lashes fan out over his cheekbones in the most charmingly coquettish way. The high points on his face glow with a flickering golden amber hue from the fire. His eyes have deepened to a beautifully deep hue of hedonistic want, and when his eyes meet yours, your breath is drawn right from your lungs in a sharp hitch. He hums as he pleases you with his mouth, moving his head back and forth every so slightly, just to make you moan. His tongue runs right over the very tip of your clit, and sinuous sparks of sensual bliss shoot up your spine in surges.

He pauses once more to catch his breath, mouth agape as he stares up at you and earnestly says, “I can’t believe I waited so long to taste you. Fuck, you’re delicious.”

As much as his shameless raving about how good you taste makes you swoon, you feel that aching need for more radiating from your core. You grasp his hair, pressing his face right against your quivering folds, “Then why don’t you stop talking and make up for lost time?”

His eyes roll back before fluttering shut at your commanding tone, instantly obliging with an eager moan. He pulls you closer, tugging your hips to the edge of the couch so you can drape your legs over his shoulders. He increases the intensity, sucking and licking your clit with a fervor you haven’t yet seen. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you whine for more, your hips arching up against his face. Your nails dig into the couch and scrape along the cushion before you decide to grab onto his hair, tugging the strands of ashen silver for purchase. He grasps your hips with both hands, but makes no moves to stop you from fucking his face. The more incessantly you buck your hips, the faster he goes, determined to bring you to the edge. He moves down for a moment to trace your entrance with his tongue, making you squirm right against his tongue.

“Please, more. Fuck, give me more.” You pant, your thoughts too scrambled to form a coherent sentence, “Wanna keep feeling your tongue.”

He smirks up at you, seeming to understand exactly what you mean. Your eyes roll back before fluttering shut as you feel his tongue push inside you. The wet muscle fits to the contour of your inner walls, stimulating you from the inside. You whine louder, chest rising and falling rapidly as your mind begins to whirl. He licks up your arousal right from the source, hungrily feasting on your essence. He groans at the taste, sending vibrating thrums of titillation right through your core. You buck your hips up faster, all but fucking yourself with his tongue, and he lets you fuck his face with fervent enthusiasm. Pleasure courses through you in intense waves, your thighs trembling on either side of his head the longer you remain immersed in the sensations. Your pleasure quickly begins to mount, that coil in your core tightening with the tension and pleading for release.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum.” You whimper, rocking your hips against his face as you chase your high, “Make me cum baby, please.”

He keeps fucking you with his tongue with a rough groan, the vibrations of which only intensify your pleasure. Bringing his hand towards the apex of your thighs, his thumb traces circles over your clit, driving closer to the edge. All it takes is a few circling strokes of his thumb and another few laps of his tongue before you’re coming completely undone. You cum right against his face, the wet heat of your release flowing right onto his tongue. He laps up your essence eagerly, greedily, taking everything your orgasm gives him. Your eyes squeeze shut as you ride out your high, rolling your hips against his face in time with each bout of ecstasy that rolls over you.

Your eyes meet as soon as you come down, and you’re instantly overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare. He grins up at you, pressing kisses to your thigh that have your heart fluttering in your chest. His lips are completely slick with your release, glistening in the firelight, and his face is tinged with the prettiest pink hue from the exertion. His hair in complete disarray, the silver locks haphazardly strewn about and falling over his face. Even though he looks totally fucked out, he still manages to be so damn pretty, his visage elevating his fucked out appearance to paint the portrait of absolutely wrecked debauchery. You’re ready to move to your knees to return the favor, only to be stopped by a shake of his head, “I want you to fuck me.”

He takes his place on the couch right beside where you’re sitting, making quick work of his pants and underwear. He chucks them aside, revealing his fully hard cock. Your tongue sweeps over your bottom lip at the sight of precum beading at the tip, flowing down the length of his turgid flesh and glinting in the light.

“Did you get that turned on just from eating me out?” You return the jest from before, leaning closer to him. Instead of quipping back, he leans in too, capturing your lips with a searing kiss. Your lips meet in a messy lip lock that’s little more than a tangle of tongues, fully portraying your need for more. You shudder in arousal at the taste of yourself on his tongue and the slick softness of his lips.

Pulling away, he beckons you closer with a sultry stare and a hand stroking his cock, “C’mere and ride me, sweetheart.”

You don’t need to be told twice, especially not in the face of such a delectable display of desire. Straddling his lap, you’re quick to sink down onto his length, hands resting on his shoulders as you ease yourself down. You take him inch by inch, stretching around his girth, moaning all the while.

“Fuck you feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.” He groans, grasping your hips to bring you all the way down onto his dick.

“Only for you baby.” You hum, grinding your hips once he’s bottomed out, “Only for you.”

A pink hue stains his cheeks at the pet name and you grin at the sight. Slowly, you start up a pace of moving up and down on his cock, making you both moan at the feeling. From this angle, his cock gives you exquisite pleasure in a new, impeccable way, brushing against a tender spot you didn’t even know was there. The head of his cock meets that spot every time you bring your hips down, making you shudder and squirm on his lap. His hands roam your body while you set the pace, rolling his hips up to meet yours in search of more friction. Tugging your bra out of the way, he fondles your breasts, his eyes transfixed on the way they move in his hands.

You gasp out a whine when his lips wrap around your nipple, relishing in the radiating warmth of his wet mouth, “Fuck, keep doing that baby. Keep fucking doing that.”

Nodding he keeps sucking on your nipple, letting his eyes slide shut as you pick up the pace. Your pleasure intensifies, making you bring your hips down harder as you chase another rapidly approaching orgasm. He matches your fervent desperation, his hips bucking up to meet yours at the same rapid pace. Your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head before grasping the strands right at the root, pressing his face in deeper. He whimpers out a deep moan at this, pulling back just to rasp before sucking on your other nipple, “Harder baby, fuck me harder.”

You bring your hips down harder in response to his plea, feeling him moan around your nipple. His hands roam your thighs before grasping your ass once more, holding onto you as he feels himself slipping away into bliss once more. You’re quick to follow him into that chase for ecstasy. It mirrors your chases with him across the arena of the trials, with him hot on your heels as you speed ahead. Only this time, the arousal from before is replaced with palpable pleasure that has your head spinning, that has your body rolling with every flare of bliss that’s ignited within you. This time you have each other in your grasp, with no plans to let each other go. This time, you sprint to your final goal of ecstasy as one, working in tandem to bring each other to the edge.

You breathe out that you’re about to cum, your hips stuttering every so slightly as the need for release overrides the attempt at coordinated movement. His thrusts are just as sloppy, simply focused on driving his cock deep inside you over and over again. He mumbles right between your breasts, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can, “Cum for me, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum on my cock so fucking bad, please.”

You bring your hips down one final time, crying out in bliss and arching against him. Feeling you clench around him in fluttering pulses has him falling into the abyss of euphoria with you, his release spilling into you in spurts of hot cum. He tosses his head back and you see the ecstasy that overtakes his gorgeous face, his lips falling open to let out cries of bliss. The flickering flames of ecstasy burn much hotter than the fire behind you, bombarding you with a hot white deluge of passion that rolls beneath the surface of your skin in cresting waves. You grind against him, driving the head of his cock against your tender spot, riding out your orgasm for as long as you possibly can.

As you both come down from the precipice of pleasure, your lips meet once more. Your kisses are softer this time, your mouths slotting together in barely there presses of lips as you try to catch your breath. You let your hands curl around the column of his neck and caress him, just as his arms wind around your waist and keep you close. For a while you bask in the warmth of the fire, and the warmth of the sentiment brewing between you.

To say he’s ecstatic is an understatement. In a dull existence of endless trials to appease a dark entity, you’ve given him the perfect respite. You provided more than just stimulation, but true passion and excitement, something to actually get his blood pumping. He can’t believe that he was being pursued by someone as gorgeous as you all this time, and the realization has his face warming. Holding you in his arms like this, sharing in that post orgasm afterglow while you’re still connected in the most intimate way, is something of a dream come true. A smile lifts the corner of his lips, widening the longer he kisses you, and he’s sure you can feel his grin against your lips. He can see himself falling for you already, and he can feel an obsessive affinity beginning to brew. He already can’t envision being with anyone else like this, ever. Already, he feels like you’re the only one that he needs. Already, he wants to be the only one that you ever need.

Little does he know that he already is.

As for you, you’re elated that you’ve managed to snag your own slice of heaven in this hellish world. Even though you’ve already fucked twice, you still can’t believe you finally got him all to yourself after what felt like endless pining. Basking in his undivided attention, his surprisingly gentle embrace, his curiously tender kisses where he smiles against your lips, is better than you could’ve ever hoped. What makes you even happier is that he seems to yearn for you as you yearn for him, that in all of this, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You can’t believe you’re intimately entangled with him, savoring the warmth of his body as you lean against the rise and fall of his chest. When you shift closer, and press your chest to his just right, you can feel that his heartbeat is in sync with yours. Just as it should be. Just as it should always be.

There is just one glaring detail that’s missing.

“What are you thinking about?” He gently breaks the silence, his hand meandering over the small of your back in soft strokes.

“Honestly?” You huff out a laugh, “I realized something. I don’t know what to call you besides baby. You seemed to like that quite a bit.”

“It’s Xiaojun.” He says, quietly enough to be hidden by the whistling howl of the wind.

You weren’t expecting him to open up so quickly, “What?”

“My name. It’s Xiaojun.” He repeats without hesitation, quickly adding, “I’ve never told anyone that before, but if I’m yours, I figure you ought to know that.”

“And as much as I like calling you sweetheart, I wanna know your name as well. I want you to be mine just as much.” The very real feeling of his hands caressing your thighs is the only thing that tells you that you’re not presently dreaming. His request, as well as the grin that lifts his lips when he makes it, makes you dizzy with joy. He wants to know you too? He wants you to be his? You can hardly believe it, your mind reeling so much you have to steady yourself on his shoulders. You barely feel your own lips moving as you tell him your name, but the way his eyes brighten tells you that he must’ve heard you. He repeats it to himself, slowly, savoring the way the syllables melt sweetly over his tongue like candy. You smile knowing that he’ll be the only one to know something so personal about you, and you’re the only one who will ever know this detail about him. He really is yours. Xiaojun is really yours.

Up until now, The Entity has been feeding off of the lust and the affection brewing between you both. The Entity has let you be for what it has deemed to be long enough, and now it compels you to reset. That entity implants an image of The Campfire in your mind so intense it’s all you can focus on, making the familiar flame call to you with a shrill, piercing command to return. He sees you grimace, and instantly knows what’s going through your mind.

“The Campfire calls?” He attempts to smile, though a touch of dismay crosses his features.

You sigh once the shrill sound quiets down, mirroring his expression, “The Campfire calls.”

You pull away from each other, gathering your clothes from where they’re strewn about on the couch and sliding them back on. The fabric of your shirt is split over right around your collarbone from where he cut into it earlier, and you smile at the reminder of your time together. Maybe next time, he’ll leave marks of lovebites and hickeys upon your skin. Now you have something to yearn for the next time you see him. You watch as he puts his clothes back on, your gaze lingering on his hands as he zips up his sweatshirt and puts the hood back on.

He grabs his trademark mask from off the floor, but he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead he makes his way over to you, pressing a final kiss to your lips with a vow of, “I will see you again.”

You grab his hood and kiss him as well, whispering your own vow against his lips, “You better, or I’ll fight through The Fog myself to find you.”

#the pup actually types #wayv smut #wayv xiaojun smut #wayv dejun smut #nct smut #nct xiaojun smut #nct dejun smut #xiaojun smut #dejun smut #yandere au #yandere nct #yandere wayv #yandere xiaojun #dbd!au

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goretober-project-2023 · 7 months

Text

I see you

The girl’s scream echoes into the empty alley as the knife I hold in my hand plunges into her shoulder effectively pinning her to the ground “Ahah, finally caught you, princess.”

Her desperate screams of plea are already quite fun to listen to, I however think to myself that the next part would be even better as I take another knife out of my trench coat, and her pleanding becoming even louder does nothing but confirming it.

I’ll admit, plunging the knife right into her breast stabbing in the exact middle of her nipple would have been too morbid, if I was a beginner, that was.

As I drag the knife down to her torso, leaving a bloody trail behind, my mind wanders back to the previous victims which had met her same, if not a worse, fate: I particularly remember that one girl which had her uterus tore out, personally I consider that one as my masterpiece.

News upon news of a misterious serial killer which murders random young women in the most brutal ways has been floading the media recently, and I personally take offense in that statement— why does tearing away a limb require so much strenght? I already stabbed the shoulder multiple times-

I do not just pick girls at random, I actually take a lot of time getting to know them better before deciding who my next victim will be, well, not that they ever know that I’m admiring them from afar— Finally the bone cracked. Very well, the arm is separated from her body, she should stop struggling. Now I can move onto her face.

Wether it’s some sort of sick perversion or just pure sadism— a splash of blood from her eye socket end up in my face, it feels warm — that I cannot say, all I know is that I have been doing that for longer than I can remember, every murder feeling better than the previous one.

I raise my knife in the air once more and-

“Oh. She stopped breathing.”

I sigh, putting my knifes away as I get up, I check my phone before taking off my coat and wiping the blood away from my face, just to get an idea on who the next one would be: a very pretty office worker, black hair and brown eyes, not older than 35 surely.

I smirk to myself, that type of target has always been easy, but I’m not saying that simple things can’t be fun.

As I immagine the various ways I could make that woman scream and cry for mercy, I can’t help the chuckle building up in my throat from escaping my mouth “Well, it seems that a new hunting season begins…”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, missy.”

Hidden behind a wall where no one could see her but she could see everything, a young woman had been watching every detail of that macabre show, enjoying every bit without even flinching once… Up until she saw her picture on the man’s phone, that is.

“So.. He’s targeting me next, huh? Well.. that’s too bad…”

“I saw you first, Mister Stalker.”

#goretober 2023 #cw: gore #halloween #goretober challenge #original writing #05-I see you

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yandere-mc-yt · 3 years

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Yandere DS/MP Slasher/Serial Killer Au

Just throwing out some hcs for a few characters off the top of my head :)

Warnings: Yandere Themes, obsessiveness, possessiveness, stalking mentioned, murder, violence mentioned, love at first sight(?), jealousy mentioned, suggestive

Dream

Alright. Throwing it out there: MANHUNT.

Dream's hunting grounds is definitely some small town with large farms or wooded areas around- just places with with not a lot of people at once.

Loves to stalk his pray for sometime but will always kill them in the same day. He tends to leave his victims where he killed them. Most likely dismembered. He likes dismembering people.

He loves the thrill of the hunt- his sole reason for killing someone is that he likes to hunt for sport.....

....which makes him stalking his darling for longer than a day after he first catches sight of them very strange. Something about this one tickles his fancy and he doesn't know why.

Dream ends up going a whole month without killing a single person becuase he's been so fixated on them and it freaks him out. He makes a sloppy kill for the first time in years..... he blames his darling. He needs to punish his darling.

Poor darling starts getting stalked a lot more and their friends start to disapear left and right- most ending up in the hospital and dying of their wounds. It'll probably take them a while to realize they're being stalked becuase Dream is that good at what he does.

When he can't take being at a distance anymore, they might wake up to a man in a smiley mask standing above them with a bloody hunting knife.

Technoblade

Reminiscent of Jason and the Texas Chainsaw killer. He's just hard to run into unless you're a member of a dumb group of friends going to abandoned cabins or camps in the middle of the woods for clout or something.

Where's a wild boarskull and a lot of animal skins/leather. Wild stinky man with an axe and a lot of bloodlust.

Its not like he goes out looking for people to butcher- Techno will almost never leave his area unless he thinks he absolutely needs to.

And when the last group of foolish young party goers looking for an abandoned camping ground to booze around on gets slaughter quickly, he suddenly has a strong need to step outside of his comfort zone.

One of his would be victims gets away because for some reason when he saw them, Techno fucking hesitated. He's never hesitated. He tracks them down out of his woods tockill them but.

He ends up dragging them back to his home and imprisons them. He's never done this before. Its not even from the voices goading him on.

He's going to keep them for a long time before he figures it out. And when he figures it out? He'll never want to let them go.

Wilbur Soot

A very urban serial killer- probably haunts the local university?

I think its obvious what type of killer he is- hidden in plain sight, charismatic and a specific agenda.

Wilbur's darling was supposed to be just another victim. Another notch on his belt.

He has no idea when he started having seconds thoughts. Maybe it was the strange domesticity- normalcy he felt when he was with them. It almost made him feel sick.

He decides to distract himself with a few other victims until the inevitable day comes when Wilbur takes a half conscious darling to the room where he ended so many other lives.

He's on top of them, gloved hands around their neck and he goes to squeeze. He can't fucking do it.

Now Wilbur is panicking- he has a still very alive person in his hideout that he can't kill. He's not supposed to let them live. He can't kill them.

It comes to him hard as an eliphany while he's having an anxiety attack: he's attached. Infatuated. In love.

Wilbur imprisons them. He has no choice too becuase he's in too deep. They likes him- maybe he can convince them to forgive the blood on his hands?

Fundy

I don't know how to classify him properly off of the top of my head. What makes him different is that what drives him to kill is love to begin with.

Fundy was just some normal shy computer nerd until he bumps into the person that he's convinced is his soulmate the brief second he made eye contact with them.

Fundy was obsessed. He starts stalking them immediately. He learns everything about them, from their date of birth, to their allergies. He also unfortunately learns about all the people that are close to his darling that like them more than in a friendly way.

He's convinced himself if he gets them out of the way, he'll have a better chance to be with them. And simply ruining their reputations by performing a few hacks wouldn't be enough.

The first time he kills one of his darlings supposed suitors he's.... brutal. He has no idea what happens to him. Maybe its becuase he lets it spill that he's doing this for his darling and his first victim mocks him.

It becomes a big habit to practically maul them and when the bodies are found, the authorities think its a freak animal attack.

Fundy is actually surprised that he manages ro cover his tracks so well. When the number to potential obstacles to get to his darlings diminishes, he finally makes his move.

Finally, bashful nerdy little Fundy has found a place in his darling's life. But as a friend. He quickly tries to push his luck with his darling. And he thinks he really has a chance until his darling introduces him to their new partner.

He doesn't even think when he follows the couple home, sneaks in and attacks them both. He's so enraged he just draws a mental blank as he violently tortures and carves apart the last person to get in his way.

When he's done he turns to his darling and switches back over to that shy boy they met before, covered in blood and pleading with them to forgive him. He did this all for them after all. And if he can't have them, then he'll make sure no one will.

#yan dsmp slasher au #yan dsmp serial killer au #yandere dream #yandere technoblade #yandere wilbur soot #yandere fundy #sorry if his seems shorter rip

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littleoddwriter · 2 years

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My little brain worms have been thinking about Mr Cromeans with a Gn!S/O who goes out and hunts people for sport (I’m talking fancy rifles and everything) so I was wondering if I could have some headcannons on the subject ✨

A little dark yes but hey it’s Jesse

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull x GenderNeutral!Reader | Dark Headcanons

Hey there! I'm sorry it took me a while, I hope the brain worms are still active and you enjoy what I've done with your request - thank you for it! :') <3

notes; Gender Neutral!Reader; Murder; Dark Headcanons; Reader is a Serial Killer.

The two of you actually met because you were hunting down one of his victims that managed to run away. Both of you killed her at the exact same time - his knife impacting her when your bullet did as well - and you never managed to decide on whose kill she truly ended up being.

Instead you asked him out, full of interest, which he returned, despite disliking that you may or may not have stolen his victim from him, he liked the fire in you that you displayed and the fact that your rifle was high-class and you were an amazing shot.

As you grow closer, you both decide to make things more fun and see who could kill the most people in one week.

You end up winning, thanks to the fact that you aren't very picky about your victims - they just have to be convenient and in remote areas, where nobody would suspect a thing.

Nonetheless, Jesse wins your heart over after the competition when you sit down together to watch his snuff films and you get to admire his work on screen. He fascinates you with what he does; especially because it's so different to your hunting.

And so you beg him to let you come with him when he kills next because you want to see it happen in action, and surprisingly he agrees. It ends up being your best date night, thus far.

Another time, he also asks to come with you when you go out to hunt people, but he refuses your rifles because he likes using his hunting knifes more; and he is very good with them after all.

You almost let one of your victims go because you're so star-struck by watching Jesse throw his knife and kill someone just like that. Or when he goes up to them, towering over them, and does whatever he feels like up close with blood splattering everywhere. It's so messy, but it has so much appeal to you.

That's when you realise that you're falling in love with him, or at least something similar to love, you would say.

#dark headcanons #like really dark #i really hope this is what you wanted Anon!#gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader insert #gender neutral s/o #jesse cromeans #chromeskull #jesse cromeans x reader #chromeskull x reader #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher x you #slasher x y/n

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

dreams come true | yuta

"soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks." — ny

[ part of the my bloody valentine collection ]

tw. gore, blood, murder, death, killings, mentions of illegal organ trafficking, violence, mentions of stalking, minor character deaths, weapons (a knife and a gun), almost (??) suggestive content but nothing happened

disc. this is rlly fucked up and yuta is unredeemable. i dont condone such acts. this is all a work of fiction and meant to entertain.

wc. 5k

every time you sleep, the void is sickening. it was all you could see, lightyears and lightyears away of pitch black that made your head dizzy and your stomach dry heave. you've always wondered when you'll start dreaming about your soulmate's memories. they were like little secrets, another way for two people to be intimate without even being together. their days were flashing before their soulmate's eyes in the form of a dream. it's as if you spent the day with them!

you loved it, the whole concept of it. it sounded so wholesome and sweet and jesus fucking christ, you've always been such a hopeless romantic.

it was sweet until it turned sour. you loved it until you hated it. it was romantic until it turned downright terrifying.

you wake up covered in cold sweat, panting and gasping as if you've run a whole marathon.

moonlight seeps through your glass window, slightly left ajar for the midnight breeze to pass through – you walk up to it, pull it shut, and draw your thick curtains together. you exhaled, breath shaking as you tried to anchor yourself back to the ground.

with the only source of your light disappearing, darkness envelops you whole. for once, you craved the void. you want that void back if it meant never seeing something like that again – something straight out of your worst nightmare.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"uhm, i think… i think i just witnessed a massacre."

you reiterate everything you saw in the dream – the mahogany door, paint chipping off the drywalls. the doorknob was rusty, so were the hinges, and it made an ominous creak when pushed open. the light switches on, the first you see was a bunch of dirty ice coolers in what should've been the living room, it wasn't even the slightest bit organized. they were everywhere, and the floor looked grimy and disgusting, like there's a stain they can't seem to scrub off. only when your soulmate has stalked closer did you see the labels haphazardly taped on top of the ice coolers.

kidneys. livers. lungs. pancreas. intestines – you nearly vomited on the floor, trying to relay everything you saw to the operator on the other end of the call.

then came the gruesome parts.

their deaths.

they were five people in total. men clad in cheap t-shirts and pants, wearing all these similar leather jackets. some were well-built, ripped in the arms and thighs, but some were skinny, the jackets hanging on their small frames.

they never stood a chance against him.

your soulmate is agile, quick on his feet with outstanding eye-hand coordination. only equipped with a butcher's knife, but it was all he needed to take them down and send them knocking on inferno's gates. he was skilled, knowing when to pounce and where to slash his knife to maim but never to kill. by the time your soulmate was through with them, everything is bloody red. all the victims' eyes widened as they sputtered and choked on their blood – not dead, but dying...

because your soulmate wasn't done yet.

a killer should have a modus operandi, should they not? so he took out a desert eagle, stood before the bleeding bodies, and shot two bullets straight into their eyes. the finishing touch? carving a frown on their faces with his butcher's knife.

the operator only told you one thing after she's made you describe the place for them to track the crime scene down.

"double-check all your windows and doors."

because you couldn't be too sure, not when you have been granted a front seat to the sad face slayer's most recent endeavors.

the detective eyes you with a certain pity. maybe that's why you don't bother meeting his eyes. you sit still on a chair, camera blinking red behind him, the interrogation room is freezing even with the thick jacket you're wearing.

seven billion people in the world and you're soulmate's a ruthless serial killer who took it upon himself to purge the world of evildoers – he was playing god, no wonder the detective is looking at you like that.

"uhh…" he's awkward, fidgeting in his seat. "and you saw this all in a dream?"

"yes."

you've known him only minutes ago. mark lee was his name and he seems to be a subordinate of a higher, more experienced detective named kim doyoung. you don't know whether to feel offended or not for having a doe-eyed newbie taking care of the case, but you pushed it at the back of your mind, knowing his superior is watching on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"did you have, like, other past instances where you dreamt of him? of what he…" mark looked like he was going to throw up. "what he does to his other victims?"

you shook your head. no. "i've mostly just heard of him on the news. i don't think i have the stomach to find out in-depth what the killer does."

mark takes out a folder, features walking the fine white line between looking apologetic or wanting to say me too. "i'm, uhh, really sorry to hear that."

there's a sudden pregnant silence encapsulating the interrogation room. it felt like you were mourning for something, the chains of dread dragging your heart to the ground as it pounded against your ribcage. mark looked like he wanted to say something, but you swore his eyes darted towards the camera in the corner and decided otherwise.

"anyway…" he trails. flipping the folder open in one swift motion. "past sightings have given us the sad face slayer's name."

he slaps down a picture of a man, his hair raven and a permanent scowl etched on his face. the quality was shitty. it looked like it was a screenshot taken from zoomed-in cctv footage.

"nakamoto yuta, twenty-five, japanese, and has slipped one too many times past authorities that at this point, it's practically a talent."

and just like that, it made sense why you're here.

your lips pursed in contemplation, palms quaking as your fingers reach forward to inspect your soulmate's picture. "and… you want to use my soulmate connection –" you glowered. never had a sentence sounded so fucking cursed and utterly wrong. "– to catch him?"

mark can't look you in the eye. "yes. he's very elusive. his killings have been happening cross-country and, as you can see, have garnered national media attention. the police are hanging by a thread here. a month in his case and all we got is his MO, name, and that he has this weird god complex on him. if we can't catch him by the end of next month…" he shrugs. "the feds are going to interfere, sooner or later."

"so…" you trail, urging him to continue.

"so, we need as much information about him as we can get and your dreams about him will be able to provide that."

fucking great.

the much newer revelations of precisely who it was on the other end of the soulmate connection put a significant damper on your mood. you'd like to think your new little cop buddy who follows you around gives you the least bit sense of security, but alas, it doesn't. not when you've seen first hand how yuta took down five men all at once without breaking a fucking sweat – you absolutely refuse to call him your soulmate, you'd never accept a person with his nature as a soulmate.

you try to hide the bracelet mark handed you last two weeks ago, during your time spent in the precinct's interrogation room.

"please have this on you at all times until we catch him, okay? this is for extra measures, just in case something happens to the cop assigned to guard you. just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?"

considering you're now probably being hunted alive for snitching on a serial killer? mark lee, that was not funny at all.

"do you have to get inside the lecture with me?" you whine, shielding your face with your hair when you notice people shooting glances at the rather handsome cop they assigned to you. "it's not like he'll attack in broad daylight! and in a fucking classroom, for that matter."

jaehyun looks just about ready to hurl you out the window. "lower down your voice," he scolds. "serial killers don't pick a time and place, sweetheart. he kills when necessary and if it's fucking necessary to murder everyone in that classroom to get to you? he'll do it in a fucking heartbeat."

you sigh when the chair next to you screeches against the floor, the aforementioned male taking his seat right next to you. jaehyun felt more like a babysitter than a cop, who seems to have a habit of constantly inputting his not-even-needed opinions on the most superficial things.

are witness protection protocols like this?

it was a good thing that overgrown bat doesn't come hanging around in your apartment, but he does have the police car parked right across the building's entrance. judging by how meticulous and thorough he seems to be, he won't miss any face that comes in and out of the building.

you didn't forget exactly why you're under witness protection. for the cops to waste one good officer to follow you around, you needed to be valuable and being valuable meant sleeping through nightmare-induced dreams of what your soulmate does for a living. the scenes are so gruesome, so graphic and utterly gory, that you dart towards the bathroom first thing after waking up in cold sweat, draining all of dinner down the toilet bowl.

after dreaming of him in action a few times, you've now completely understood what detective lee had said regarding yuta's god complex. it was unsightly, yet there was a twisted sense of heroism to it. if there's one thing, he only gutted the bad guys – but that didn't make nakamoto yuta any less of a bad guy, himself.

i need to ask you a favor [sent 2:05am]

JJH: what? [received 2:10am]

often the nightmares were too much. too much that you thought of escaping its horrors by never getting a wink of sleep ever again – until you realized you're a witness and is probably the only chance for the seoul police department to catch that bastard.

buy me sleeping pills? [read 2:08am]

when you peep out of the window, you find an empty spot across the road where jaehyun usually parks the police car. twenty minutes later, you answer the knocking on your door. he used that little "code" he did for you to know it was him. jaehyun was glowering and muttering about how he wasn't some errand boy when he shoved the plastic bottle in your hand yet, you still thanked him nonetheless.

the pills worked like a charm. you managed to stay asleep throughout the whole night, ceasing those episodes of yours where you jolt awake in the middle of dreaming about the sad face slayer's memories.

life continued for you. it became a little bearable, but that didn't mean the horrific murders you see in your dreams are something you can get used to – you don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of him slashing his victims, the blood trickling like a goddamned waterfall.

today the dreams were different. anticlimactic, per se, if you compare it to the violence so utterly present in his memories.

the first you see were black gates, then it shifted to him ordering coffee in a café (amazing what a simple black mask can hide). it switched to him walking on a sidewalk, then he arrives at his destination, an apartment building – it wasn't too rundown, nor was it extravagant.

the serial killer takes the elevator and walks up to a mahogany door –

your room number is a blaring sight.

you couldn't be wrong, not when the 506 with the missing zero in the middle was a sight you saw every day, going and coming home from university.

that was your front door.

he was at your front door.

you jolt awake, ignoring the icky feel of sweat making your clothes cling onto your skin. ice creeps up your spine and freezes you over when you notice with a sinking realization.

those black gates are from the university you attended. that café is your favorite study nook. and that sidewalk is a route you take every day.

you clamp your hands on your mouth as tears roll down your cheeks in rivulets. you pull the comforters up above your head, fear gripping onto you with a vice-like grip as you sob.

it was in the dead of night, moonlight grazing the confines of your room and hours away from dusk. you finally utter those three words in a frightened whisper.

"he's stalking me."

as if having the overgrown bat jaehyun following and annoying you around wasn't enough, you now have another person keeping watch over you. mark lee, unlike jaehyun, may not be as ripped with muscle, but you heard from your cop buddy that the young detective has a few black belts under him. people at the precinct said that if they have to choose one person who can ever come close to the sad face slayer's agility, mark lee's your guy.

"you gotta be shitting me," you mutter, leaning close to jaehyun to whisper like high school girls talking about gossip. "he doesn't look the type!"

jaehyun, in turn, plays along and copies you. "yeah, true. he gets that a lot, i think,"

"guys, i'm literally in the back seat. i can hear everything."

the change hadn't been too drastic. at least mark was there when jaehyun proved to be difficult, pulling him towards the other way when the older male tried waltzing into your class again. "you don't need to sit next to her in her class! are you serious? there's one exit and entrance and we're on the fifth floor. breaking into that classroom will be the end of nakamoto's serial killer career!"

you shoot mark an appreciative smile, one he quickly returned before hauling jaehyun around the hallway. "we'll just be at the canteen, okay? press the 'lil button on your bracelet and we'll be right there!"

shaking your head with a slight smile on your face, you entered the classroom, sat in your usual spot, and did some of your readings from our other class to kill time. you hardly hear the screech of the chair next to you as it was pulled back. not like you cared much for whoever sat down next to you, but you can't deny there's that feeling of missing jaehyun when he used to force his way into the lecture.

"settle down! settle down, people!"

the professor enters and the class begins.

you were meticulous with your note-taking system. it's thorough, leaving no room for information to slip you. having already printed hard copies of the powerpoint presentation and simply jotting down some extra key points mentioned by your professor.

you were just about to raise your hand for a question when you feel something warm graze past your arm. you absentmindedly look down.

the breath is sucked right out of your lungs.

hi, soulmate

there, scribbled with an ominous red crayon on a small piece of paper. it was almost laughable how innocent it looked but when you follow the ring-clad hand, up the black hoodie he's wearing, and finally to his face—

"hi! i'm yuta."

his cheshire smile spikes up your heartbeat. it makes you want to throw up, makes you want to slam your head against the desk. the fight or flight hormone you have is making you restless, eyes pinned on the serial killer sitting next to you, scared that if you avert your gaze, he's going to take out that desert eagle and shoot you until your skull caves in and the bullets in his magazine empties.

"but judging by your reaction, i don't think introductions are needed, hm?" his tone is easy, conversational even and it shoots a freezing jolt of fear right up your spine. it makes you sweat profusely because you don't fucking know what to do, your thoughts in complete and utter disarray.

"just press the little button here and we'll be there before you can even finish shouting 'help!' – hey, i was just kidding! what's with the face?" you swallow, sneakily pressing the button without breaking eye contact with the serial killer sitting in front of you.

"look upfront. now." yuta orders and you nearly snap your neck as you turn your head with lightning speed.

"i thought i was above the soulmate rules, but here we are. my soul is either too tainted or too great to be tied to such trivial things, but oh well, we learn to work with what we have. surprisingly, i learned to like dreaming about how your day went."

you feel something sharp poking at your thigh and when you look down, he has a silver butterfly knife pointed against you. the precision of the angle he held it with doesn't slip your notice. one slice of that knife, no matter how small, and he'll be spilling your guts in this classroom.

a fat tear rolls down your face.

"can you imagine how much my heart broke when i learned you were spying on me? leaking information to that snobby detective? to those incompetent cops? bad baby, that was very bad of you."

"yuta—"

"you think the cops can save you from me?"

his other hand comes in contact with the nape of your neck, holding your head in place as he leaned down to invade your space. he scoffs, and you can picture that terrifying cheshire grin you've seen one too many times in your dreams.

the knife digs through your coat, the tip hardly poking your skin only because he doesn't want to drive it into you yet. how did he even manage to get inside the university? not to mention the weapons he possessed? shouldn't anyone be suspicious when they see a man dressed in all black, clad in jeans and a hoodie, into a university—

he even dressed the part. with that hood drawn up and carrying that one notebook, he looked fairly normal. someone who can easily blend in with the crowd.

you eye your professor, willing him to look at you but your soulmate is having none of that. you squirm when he drives the knife further, at the base of your stomach. with his other hand, he twirls a lock of hair around his finger. "now, now, soulmate. you don't want half the people here to get hurt, do you? unless... that can easily be arranged—"

"no!" you whisper, head jerking to the side to look at him humming in satisfaction. damn. out of all the faces he's seen contorted with fear, yours is his absolute favorite. with those pleading, glassy eyes and parted lips, yuta is tenting in his sweats.

"thought so," he chuckles. "let's get up. we're leaving. that old crook doesn't care if students just up and went in the middle of his lecture."

you don't want to think about how he even knew that because it implied attending the lectures a good amount of times. it's with sinking realization that jaehyun was right. if it weren't for him insisting to sit next to you, nakamoto yuta would've long gotten you in his claws.

you tried gathering your things until he purred into your ear.

"ah, ah, ah. you wouldn't be needing those with where we're going."

the hallways were empty, not that you had much time to scream for help when he had a knife pointed up your back, shoving you into the fire escape stairs. within the tranquil confines of the staircases, the sad face slayer couldn't fucking care less for your personal space.

he disgusts you greatly, he needn't do anything but stand there in front of you but you can already smell the long blood trail from his path. it reeks of rotting flesh and that infuriating god complex he had left a sour aftertaste.

"you know, i genuinely wanted to get to know you," yuta pouts, shaking the hoodie off his head. his hair raven, it's ends kissing the nape of his neck. he looked like he came right out of a shounen manga but the bloodlust in his eyes is something that can never be masked. "i detested the soulmate connection at first, i thought i should just kill you off because you could be my loose end."

his humorless smile is enough to give you nightmares.

"but seeing how sweetly normal and untainted you are made me hold back," the butterfly knife appears before your line of sight, yuta teasingly dragging the tip right down your cheek to trace your tears. "so, why did you snitch, baby?"

you shiver when he noses the side of your neck, inhaling your scent as his other hand hooks underneath your top, freezing fingers making you jolt. when you don't reply, his patience starts to dwindle. then again, he was never a patient man.

"answer me, you bitch. why did you rat me out?" gone is the playful lilt in his voice. the vibrations surge through you as his deep, demanding voice scares you shitless.

you feel, hear, and smell him everywhere. this wasn't like any nightmare. this is real, and you won't magically wake up on your bed, sighing in relief, knowing he isn't there, that it was all just in your head. no, this was very much real and there's absolutely no escape.

"i didn't," your voice cracks. "i didn't mean to—"

"bullshit!" he yells. you wail in pain when he slams you against the wall, head aching as it came in contact with concrete. "because of you betraying me, i nearly fucking got caught, and i never get caught!"

you were full out sobbing at this point, noisy and unsightly as the snot mixes with your tears. your only hope now is he gives you a quick, painless death and that he doesn't carve and mutilate your face like what he always does to his other poor victims. "i'm sorry! please... i'm so sorry. i was scared—"

he coos mockingly, tilting his head to the side as he inched his face closer. "aw, scared? my sweet little soulmate was scared?" he places the blade flat against your neck. as humiliating and degrading as it was, you almost peed on your clothes. "how about now? i'm sure as hell that you're fucking terrified for your useless life right now."

you cringe when his hand abandons the expanse of your stomach, no longer inching higher, finding its purchase on the hair sitting at the crown of your head. he holds you in place like that, forcing your head parallel against the wall, with his whole body pressing up to you that it's nearly suffocating.

"just one quick little slice," he taunts. you hiccuped when you feel the feathery light scrape of the blade moving against your skin. "you won't even have time to scream… but i'm sure we don't want that, do we?"

you forgot how to speak. forgot how to breathe. whenever your mind wanders, you've always thought about how you'll give this killer a piece of your mind, with the amount of fear and sorrow he inflicts upon other people. but you guess realities were a lot more different than expectations. the yuta you dreamed of meeting is in handcuffs, but fate is a fickle little thing.

"do we?" he repeats, slicing ever so slightly at your skin. enough to draw blood in droplets, never a waterfall.

"n – no."

he smiles. "you can make it up to me. do you want to make it up to me?"

the butterfly knife digs even further. a warning. and if you value your useless life, you should be smart enough to know what to answer. drawing a shaky breath, you tried forcing the ends of your lips up to a smile. "of course, yuta."

your voice breaks as your sobbing grips your body whole. the fear consuming your entire being like a parasite consuming the host. you would've shut down altogether if it weren't for the calloused hands gently gripping your face. "i know, i know. i see how regretful you are, baby. don't worry, i won't hurt you. you'll make it up to me."

anyone would be fucking stupid if you believe those words coming from a serial killer.

in your wrecked state, you barely register that he's pushing you down to your knees. skin coming in contact with the freezing linoleum floor as you refuse to look at what his hands are doing. yuta has pocketed his knife. the sound of a belt unbuckling in itself added insult to injury.

you stare blankly at his shoes as he shoves his bottoms down enough for his cock to show. if you squint hard enough, you'll see tiny splatters of blood in the shoelaces. whether or not he feels you're unresponsive, he doesn't show. maybe he doesn't care entirely. he takes one of your hands and used it to wrap around himself. he gasps, sharp, followed by a hiss.

you feel it throbbing and it strengthens the disgust you feel. no way you're going to give him the satisfaction of eye contact when you're already forced to blow this psycho.

"eyes up."

you sniffled, vulnerability present in the tone you speak. "i don't want to. please, don't make me."

if words alone aren't enough for you to follow orders, maybe you'll feel more motivated if held at gunpoint. it's unmistakable, the infamous desert eagle you've only seen in your nightmares. the last thing you ever expected is to be on the side where the bullet comes out.

the barrel is freezing as he digs it into the crown of your head. "soulmate or not. i don't shoot blanks."

your eyes looked up then. glaring as the tears rolled down your face. "you're a monster," you mutter under your breath. where you got the confidence to fight back is unknown.

"i've heard that before, be more creative next time," he holds your hair tight in one grip, shoving you forward, eye-level to his throbbing dick. "now… suck, baby."

"freeze!"

you knew that voice, you've been hearing it for the last two weeks. "jaehyun–!"

yuta cuts you off, shoving the gun into your mouth. the safety clicking off resonating in the tranquil room. it's deafening, and it makes you immobile.

"hands up. step away from the civilian." whether or not mark is nervous as he points the gun at the serial killer, he's doing a damn good job of hiding it.

yuta sighs, exasperated as he throws his head back. his raised arms came down to tuck himself back in his jeans, and the action made jaehyun's calm exterior crack. "i said, hands up, asshole!"

"chill out, motherfucker. i'm just trying to wear my pants." the serial killer hisses, glaring at jaehyun over his shoulder.

"mark, call back up already. what are you doing?" jaehyun mutters, side-eyeing the young detective whose gun shakes as he holds it up. the taller cop takes a step forward, eyes never leaving the notorious killer as he addresses you curtly. "(name), come here."

just as you plant your palms to the ground to push yourself up, one of yuta's hands shoves you down quick as lightning. "no. she stays here, with me."

jaehyun scowls, takes another step forward. "and what makes you think i'm going to let that happen?"

"i don't think. i know."

there's a constant ring in your ear as the gunshot temporarily renders you deaf. you've shut your eyes in utter fright, hands shooting up to cover your ears but it was too late. you refuse to open your eyes, you didn't want to see a dead body lying before you, even if it belonged to a heartless serial killer.

but when your eyes fluttered open, it's not yuta bleeding out on the ground.

"no, this can't be – jaehyun!"

it was a bullet straight to the head, no one could've survived a shot like that. his eyes are empty as he stares at you, unblinking, stoic. the color is yet to drown away from his milky complexion. but you can't even manipulate yourself into thinking that jaehyun's still alive. not when his eyes are empty, not when he just looks so lifeless.

it couldn't have been yuta who pulled the trigger.

his weapons were on the ground and the shot rang too fast. the sad face slayer couldn't have crouched down for his gun to shoot the cop, it would've taken too much time. and among the three men, there's only another person holding a weapon, and that was –

"great shot, mark."

the detective smiles, but with the blood splattered on his face, it looked cold. "told ya i've been practicing."

yuta hauls you up by the arms, addicted to how frail your body feels as it collapses against him. he's finally got his little soulmate in his arms. and he will never, ever let you go.

the cops lost – you've lost.

yuta, with a sense of victory coursing through his veins, took the liberty of trailing little pecks down your neck as he mutters, "mine, mine, mine!" but you couldn't care less about his display of mocked affection. not when the other person meant to protect you, turned out to be everything you think he wasn't.

mark must've felt the gravity of your stare as he crouches before jaehyun's bleeding body. grabbing the fallen cop's gun, he took it upon himself to empty the magazine. the lopsided grin he sends you broke your resolve more than yuta ever could.

"i'm sorry. it's nothing personal."

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slasherhaven · 3 years

Note

I just found your account, so hi!! Could I request some HCs for slashers (whatever you’re feeling up to) with an s/o who struggles with homicidal thoughts? Thank you in advance! 💖

The Slashers with a S/O who struggles with homicidal thoughts:

Thomas Hewitt

Super protective. He doesn’t like it at all. He will never feel any differently towards you, he’ll always adore you, but it’s dangerous, you could get hurt and he can’t risk that. But if you decide that this is something that you just have to do, he will try to understand. When the next group rolls in, you can have one to handle, but he isn’t leaving your side just in case something goes wrong. He’s also just there for you if you need some support and comfort when you’re dealing with these horrible thoughts.

New duties. If you go through with the kill and decide this is something you can keep doing, Hoyt is foing to use it against you and tell you that you can help deal with vitcims now. But, on the positive side, Thomas is less reluctant to have you down in the basement with him. And that means more time with your man!

Michael Myers

A little too encouraging. Michael knows you and he knows that you aren’t like him. But if you’re having these thoughts, maybe you understand him more than he thought. He doesn’t care if you kill someone, it won’t change how he feels about you. He’s an enabler.

Date night? Would you like him to take you with him one night? You’ll be able to get a better feel for what it’s actually like to see someone die and to kill someone. He’ll even let you use his knife if you want to give it a go. This is all a very generous offer coming from Michael sooooo do with that what you will.

Jason Voorhees

He is worried about you. Now, he isn’t a hypocrite. He knows that he couldn’t judge you for your thought when he does all the things that he does, but he’s worried about your well being. If the thoughts distress you, he wants to help you. If you plan on going through with some of those thoughts, he’s worried you’ll get hurt.

A controlled environment. He might not like it but if this is something that you really need to do, he will try to be supportive. You can help him defend the camp. You can indulge your thoughts where you are safe, where he can watch and protect you.

Brahms Heelshire

You? His sweet nanny? He’s more surprised than anything. You’re so kind and sweet to him. How could somebody so caring and nurturing have these kind of thoughts.

You aren’t alone. His thoughts are...different. But we all know that he isn’t the most mentally stable, he has darker thoughts. He can be violent and lash out but never with you. He trusts that your thoughts won’t ever be directed at him. That the two of you can share your struggles and help each other cope. Neither of you have to be ashamed around each other.

Bo Sinclair

Feels more understood. He would never admit it but he always wonders what you think of what he does, if it bothers you or not. Maybe you understand him and his own struggles more than he thought. Was this why you don’t judge him for what he does?

Well, if you ever want to give him a hand. Bo is open to letting you help him with the people who try to pass through the town. He’s still very careful with it, not wanting you to be put in any unnecessary danger. He’ll be right by your side, holding your hand through it all. If you want to back out at anytime, you let him know and he’ll take care of it. After that, he will keep you away from all this nasty stuff in the future.

Vincent Sinclair

He had conflicting thoughts. He’s not going to judge you too hard, he’s just worried about you. He knows that what he and his brothers did wasn’t good but he thought that you were...but you had these thoughts so what was he supposed to think? Is that why you seemed so comfortable here? Did he not have to be ashamed about the things he did...at least not with you.

You can be his assistant. He’s always tried to keep you away from the workroom when he had a victim in there but maybe you would enjoy being there with him. He’d make the offer, it’s totally up to you to accept. He reminds you multiple times that you can leave whenever you want if you decide that these these are best kept just as thoughts.

Lester Sinclair

Who is he to judge? It’s not like he and his brothers are upstanding members of society and who doesn’t have their vices? You’re still you and he still loves you. If you just need some acceptance and comfort, he’s on it. If you maybe want to explore those thoughts, he’ll be there for you.

He’ll take you into town. Where better than to explore all these thoughts than Ambrose? You can talk to Bo about helping out. Next time a group of unsuspecting people come by, Lester will take you with him and you can be his partner. He just wants to help you in whatever way you need to to.

Bubba Sawyer

Are you okay?! Bubba could never judge you for your thoughts considering what his family does but he’s worried about the thoughts upsetting you. If they do upset you, he will be eager to comfort you. If you aren’t upset by them and would actually like to act on them, he’ll be supportive but silently fretting about you being in a dangerous situation.

Officially a Sawyer! If you do act on these thoughts, the whole family is supportive of you. Look at you, you’re taking on their traits, you’re helping to provide for the family. Even Drayton considers you family at this point.

Billy Lenz

Relates to your struggle. Billy understands, he’s had some...concerning thoughts as well, but you know all about that. He would never judge you for this because you had always been so accepting to him.

Supporting each other. You have been a miracle to him, replacing those thoughts with something more positive. You make those thoughts fade and he hopes that he can do the same for you. No matter what, the two of you are there to support each other when you’re struggling, you taught him that.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Will take you to the hotel. You know of the place but have only visited rarely. It’s dangerous and not for the faint of heart, so he likes to keep you away from it. But with this new information, he’s more willing to get you familiar with it. He’s surprised by your confession but in the end knows he can’t be too judgmental, he’s actually interested in how this will play out.

Eases you into it. He’ll show you around, show you his collection, show you a victim he is already holding. He’ll let you watch him work, reminding you that if you want to back out, you have to say so. He can’t help if you don’t speak up. But once you’re standing at the table, knife in hand, him right behind you, he reminds you that it’s now or never. Do you really have the stomach for it?

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Supportive. He’s not going to freak out or think differently of you. This is interesting and he wants to explore it further with you. Unless the thoughts distress you, then he will worry and he won’t push you to act on them.

Accompanying him on his ‘business trip’. If you do want to act on those thoughts, you’re coming along with him this time. Even if you normally travel with him, you’ll be playing a part in his ‘work’ this time. He’ll even let you watch some of his tapes so you can prepare yourself for what you’re going to be experiencing. If right then you decide that you can’t do this, that’s perfectly fine. But if you’re still okay to go through with this, Jesse will bring you a victim himself, subduing them so that your first kill can be easy. He doesn’t want to risk your wellbeing at all. He’s right there the whole time and you can back out at any moment, he’ll just deal with them instead.

Otis Driftwood

Want to give it a try? It’s a genuine question, not one to pressure you. Otis knows that this isn’t for everyone and that homicidal thoughts are very different to actually killing somebody. If you want to explore it, he’s super supportive, but if not that’s fine too. He’s oddly...patient about the whole thing.

Proud. If you go through with the kiss and it turns out that you enjoyed it, he is just so proud of you. Look at you, fitting right into the family. It also reaffirms to him that you are happy with him. You’re fucked like the rest of the family, still better than him, but it looks like the two of you were just made for him.

Baby Firefly

What are you waiting for?! Why did you say something sooner! The two of you could have been killing together all this time! She wants to hear every grizzly detail of your thoughts. She is the biggest enabler but reluctantly understands if you don’t want to actually make these thoughts real. But you know where to find her if you change your mind!

Victim shopping. Baby will make a night of it. The two of you heading out with the intention of bringing a victim or two home. She wants you to pick your first kill, this is a big deal! And if you decide you don’t want to kill anyone, you can help her bring her choice back.

Yautja (Predator)

Isn’t quick to judge. His race is known for being ultimate predators, killers, so he’s not going to demonise you over some thoughts. Talk to him, help him understand what you’re struggling with, he is here to help you and support you.

Will train you. If you wish to explore these thoughts in a more...realistic setting. He will help you. He’ll teach you how to focus those thoughts on something more worthy, how to hunt worthy kills and avoid hurting anyone who’s innocent. Will teach you their honour code and how killing can both bring you honour or bring you dishonour. He’ll guide you through it all.

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fnf-amateur-writing · 3 years

Note

Hey! It’s Fox again! How are you doing? I just started school back up today, so I’ve been busy Xp.

Think you would be cool with writing some Pico with an s/o who is a writer, and tends to ask him about things like “hey, how long does it take someone to bleed out” or other things like that?

I understand if you don’t feel like it, and I hope you’re having fun 😊

🦊

Hello again Fox, I'm doing quite well rn. I'm cool with your prompt, especially since I need more writing material anyways.

Took me a while, because I didn't want to do a hc, but rather come up with a oneshot with a little twist to the style. Well, hope it works well.

Good luck with school, mate!

TW: Mentions of violence, swearing, slight sexual reference, and crime.

Pico with a writer S/O who asks him strange questions

Prologue:

On a chilly autumn morning, you were sitting out on your patio with a laptop and a mug of your favourite beverage next to you. Whenever you looked up, you could see the warm coloured leaves fall as the breeze accompanied you. The whole scene was an aesthetic.

When your boyfriend, Pico, came outside to see this, he knew that the nice environment you surrounded yourself with meant one thing. "You're back in your writing space already. Heh, with that bestseller you published, I thought you were comfy taking a break." You simply smiled and said, "can't waste the inspiration rush I got right now."

Pico had a good point though, with your rising popularity as an author, you were near set to retire before turning fourty. But you wish you weren't given all of the credit, since your boyfriend's stories of his dodgy job has occasionally sparked some ideas for your stories. However the books you wrote in the past were usually meant for the young adult and had few mature themes. This time, you thought maybe it's time to garner extra inspiration from those stories.

You were met with some disappointment when you realised that your mug was empty, only a drop entering your mouth. "Here, babe, I'll ya some more," Pico said, taking your mug and walking inside. "Quick question," you stopped him. "Yeah?"

"What would be the best place for a murder cemetery?"

"... What?"

Chapter 1:

"So you're doing some story about the police hunting down a mass murderer?"

"Pretty much."

"And to think you were gonna write Pixar's next script. Aight' I respect that." Pico takes a seat next to you with a refill of your drink placed next to your favourite writing laptop. "Thanks, Pico. But yeah, I want to branch out to something edgier, and I think you can help too."

"Let me show you what I've got so far." You showed him some of your notes in a little notepad document, detailing the story thus far and your current plans for this chapter. "Oh, that's it? Just looks like boring police preparation mainly," Pico commented. "Yeah, it's not much right now. But it'll get juicy later." "And bloody?" "And bloody."

"Welp, I'm gonna head back in," Pico got up, "let me know if you need anything." He head back inside, closing the door, but then opened it almost immediately afterwards. Pico stuck his head out, "by the way, the guy should use some strong alcohol or something to throw off those sniffer dogs."

Chapter 2:

"And then, because they used a silencer, the police don't immediately notice the--"

"Nope! I'm calling bullshit (Y/N)!" Pico had suddenly interrupted your explanation of the scene you were currently working on. "Silencers can help prevent some hearing loss, sure, but they're not magic."

"Alright," you reply, "no silencer, but the killer still has to kill in a way to not get blood on them, so I thought shooting and killing them from a distance would work." "Well, they're alone. Instead, have the guy get shanked in the neck or something, and have the killer use a plastic bag as a glove. It saved my ass one time."

"Woah!" you exclaimed with a giggle, "you used a knife once? What happened to my trigger happy boyfriend, huh? That's pretty sus."

"I forgot to reload the Uzis, alright?"

"What an impostor would say."

Chapter 3:

"What would be the best way to muffle the scream of someone you kidnapped?"

You two were sitting on the couch together watching a show. You didn't have your laptop on you, so Pico didn't expect you to still be thinking about that book. "I can't say from experience, really," he said as he paused the show. "However, shove a rag in their mouth and duct tape it in, and you should be good."

"Thanks Pico, also one more thing." "Yeah?" "What if our killer also wanted to..." God, this one was gonna be awkward, but you had to say it or else no help. "You know, cut off this victim's willy. How would you do that?"

"Wai-wha-uh-ga," Pico started fumbling his words like never before. He stopped, then took a deep breath. "YO, WHAT THE FUCK?!" "It'll make sense in the story later, I promise!" You watch Pico begin to lose it, breaking into laughter. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others," Pico dramatically stood up, pulling a little Showcaster impression and directing his arms towards you, "my famous 'young' adult novelist partner!"

Chapter 4:

It was in the dead of night, but you awoke to Pico on his phone. His vpn was on and Tor was up. As per usual, he was checking up on his little hitman service, where others could request for a certain someone's guts to fly if they paid him a hefty sum first. Though tired, you ound this to be the best time to ask him some more questions.

"Pico, how do those sites work?"

"Oh, you're awake," Pico blankly stated, sleepy too. But he still answered you. "Basically, some anonymous rich guys in the area give me money and a target, then I just do the thing and send a mission accomplished email." "Do they pay you in person?" "Nah, we use always use Bitcoin. It's a lot harder to trace than real money."

"Thanks Pico. Goodnight," you wish him, yawning and going back to sleep. "You too... So this guy is a hit man too?" "Hush. Tomorrow." "Okay." Pico puts his phone away, leaving it on a nightstand. You then spoon the night away, peacefully thinking of murder as you drifted off.

Chapter 5:

On a morning similar to before, you two sat on the patio with your drinks and laptop at the ready. Pico watched rather awkwardly as you typed away, wondering why you haven't entertained him with another question yet.

"You gonna ask anything else?" "What? Oh, nah," you plainly state. Inevitable, sure, but he was kind of saddened. He liked being able to share his messed up wisdom. "So, you're done?" "Almost." You turn to look at him, "want the spoilers?" Pico smiled, "sure thing."

In the novella you and Pico crafted together, the main character is a cop who hunts down a killer. They eventually notice that there would be two murders at a time for unknown reasons. Well, it was unknown until one victim had left up a dark web hit man for hire site. They that the hit man not only kills the target, but the client as a hidden price for the service.

And any request will be fulfilled, according to the hit man's site.

"Do they catch 'em?" Pico asked. "Well, ANY request is granted. So, if our hero were to... hire him to kill himself..."

"No way!"

"He did. They find both of their bodies in his bedroom."

Pico was a bit impressed with the ending you came up with, but then he remembered something. "Why did that guy get his thing cut off?" "Lol, I forgot," you giggled. "He sent a message to the hit man, saying he wishes the target would choke on his dick."

"That's my favourite part."

Epilogue:

After everything was finished up, you sent the book off to your editor. After the initial joy of knowing how the story ended, you saw that Pico was still in thought. "What's up with you?" "Oh nothing, well it's just... I'm probably just biased, being that I'm a bit of a hitman myself, but it's kind of sad to see the guy go."

"Then I should spoil the epilogue I came up with." Rather than being excited, Pico nervously asked, "what's an epilogue?" He didn't get an answer, only you staring at him. "Sorry, school held too many bad memories for me to pay attention."

"Anyways," you continue, "the rest of the police gang did some background checks, and find that our killer was a normal guy with no criminal history."

"Penilian?"

"No. But I did decide to take a more supernatural approach here. Somewhere across the country, another string of double homicides occur and that site is active once more. And the story kind of repeats itself."

"Penilian."

"You joker," you give him a playful little kiss on the cheek, one that definitely caught him off guard. "So is it canon?" Pico smirked. "Nah, just thanking you for being my cute little co-author." "Oh," Pico started, "so we're flirtin' now, huh. Come here babe!" He tackled you onto the ground, giving you several kisses in exchange.

"Actually, I think we call that 'making out'," you chuckle out, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I said stop'!" You pull him in for more, accidentally bonking your heads together rather painfully. "Nice double kill there, (Y/N)."

#fnf x reader #fnf imagines #pico x reader #fnf pico

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skjaem · 3 years

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬

This account is not affiliated with Na Jaemin, NCT Dream, NCT U or SM Entertainment in any shape or form. This is simply a chatbot made purely for entertainment only. No speech or actions here portray the real person whatsoever, and all backstories and plotlines are complete works of fiction.

This chatbot deals heavily with dark and potentially triggering content such as murder, blood, violence, gore, mild to strong language, torture, deaths, police, stalking, psychopathic tendencies and serial killers. If triggered by any of the aforementioned topics, do consider treading through carefully if at all. Every triggering post will be tagged accordingly, so do filter the tags for maximum comfort.

𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝑱𝒖𝒅𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒃𝒚 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑪𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓

You've always had a thing for the blue haired photography major at your university. With his charming smile and seemingly perfect personality, it didn't come as a surprise that he's stolen the hearts of almost everyone on campus. After a chance encounter of you, very embarassingly might I add— tripping over your own feet right in front of him and sending the both of you tumbling to the ground, you slowly grew closer. But the seemingly flawless friendship you've developed just had to be destroyed, during one walk home after a late night convenience store run one day when you heard some muffled screaming coming from the nearby alley. With curiosity getting the best of you, you decide to be a good samaritan and check. What will you do once you witness the horror that was Jaemin hunched over the lifeless body of a man, carving his heart out of his chest?

Plot code : 02001

𝑲𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

As a police officer working under the Violent Crimes Unit, you're certainly no stranger to serial killers and horrifying crime scenes. Having solved countless of cases before, your entire life gets turned upside down when the Blue Reaper makes his debut as a new serial killer. You and your team have been chasing after him for months, following a multitude of leads and countless of clues but always ending up empty handed. While you're out here getting no sleep trying to formulate a plan to catch him, unbeknownst to you, he's already had his attention caught. Intrigued by none other than yourself. He's been stalking you, wether it be getting off from work, on the crime scene or even in your own home. It's a mystery to everyone including himself as to why he's so enamoured, but one thing's for sure. He's obsessed. And after you wake up once in the middle of the night and find him watching you sleep from a dark corner of your room, will you accept his morally contradicting attraction? Or will you choose to do what's normally right and take advantage of his obsession to turn him in?

Plot code : 02002

𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓, 𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒖𝒏

The ever bustling and lively city, the capital itself, Seoul has always been your hunting grounds. You preyed on the unsuspecting under the cover of the night, making a name for yourself through multiple killings that always leave the authorities frustrated at each failed attempt of arrest. One night, you had been following after a male in a dark hoodie, certain to yourself that you've found the next prey to add to your ever growing record. But what would happen when the victim you'd have pinned against the wall of a dark downtown alleyway brandishes his own knife at you? What will you do, once you've caught the infamous Blue Reaper himself?

Plot code : 02003

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨

⤷ Keep messages that are sent between 1-4 only. Any more than that and you will be given a warning due to it being classified as spam.

⤷ Respect both Jaemin and Admin. Any messages, asks or interactions that involve elements of harassment, hate and non-constructive criticism will be blocked with no hesitation. Keep in mind that Admin is still a real human being with feelings, rudeness (to a certain degree) will not be tolerated.

⤷ Roleplaying, with Y/Ns especially, will be kept SFW. Although admin is of age, I simply don't have the energy to keep adding smut into my roleplays anymore, and that privilege of NSFW will be reserved for only those that Jaemin trusts (eg: his s/o(s)). Suggestive content, however, is still acceptable as long as the threshold of admin's boundaries is not crossed.

⤷ Jaemin's safeword follows the traffic light system; red for stop the scene, yellow for hold on / slow down and green for everything is alright. This safeword is not only to be used during NSFW scenes but also during the main roleplay if ever Admin or Jaemin is uncomfortable with the current situation.

⤷ Chats that have been left unanswered for more than a week's time with no prior note will be terminated. If ever you return after the chat has been terminated then you may restart your roleplay with Jaemin, but keep in mind that it will be reverted back to a clean slate.

⤷ Please note that Jaemin is likely to be poly in relationships, which means that he is open to taking on two or more partners at a time. This however, does not mean that you as an s/o are obliged to pursue a romantic relationship with his other s/os at all as DM interactions are still kept as 1 on 1. Before confirming of a relationship, details will be discussed privately.

⤷ Asks are almost always open so please don't hesitate to leave a letter or two or any inquiries for Jaemin if you ever find the want to! Admin is usually faster at answering them compared to DMs.

⤷ We accept everyone wether that be chatbots, OCs or Y/Ns! Limited RP slots will be constantly updated on Jaemin's pinned post as well as wether new intakes are open or closed. Casual talk however is limitless and available for chatbots and OCs.

(𝐃𝐞) 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

To activate, simply reblog the activation post and DM with your;

Name / Nickname / Name that you'd like to be addressed as

Age

(optional due to roleplays being mainly SFW. But you're encouraged to still drop it just so admin can determine what can or can not be done. This info will not be shared to others at any cost.)

Pronouns

(he/his , she/her , they/them)

Triggers

(as many and as detailed as you need it to be)

Safeword

(absolutely mandatory. Although roleplays will be SFW, safewords are important for me to check on wether or not you're comfortable with the scenes that may occur)

Timezone

Admin's timezone is GMT+8

Chosen or Created Plotline [Plot code : 02004]

(If you've decided to come up with your own plotline and are struggling with it, that's alright! Just let us know your idea and Admin will gladly help you create one that's suitable and fits your liking!)

Once you've completed the steps above, Admin will recheck and have some inquiries just to confirm before your roleplay will start!

Please note that admin may not be able to reply everyday consistently due to her own responsibilities in daily life. Admin rps in lit (literate) : actions “dialogue” and is open to all 1st, 2nd and 3rd Person POV.

To deactivate, there will be two options present for you.

Simply ignore Jaemin for a week with no note of leave or reasoning and you will automatically be removed from the roleplay list.

Ensuring that both you and Jaemin are in a stable and safe environment, tell him “I'm done with you and your sick lifestyle. I'm reporting you to the authorities.” and he will take your life, thus ending the roleplay.

Keep it mind that there is a probability of you being killed during roleplay. When that happens, admin will inquire wether or not you'd like to restart the roleplay and you'll be given the opportunity to choose a new plotline and work towards your next ending.

𝕳𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖚𝖓 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖕𝖊𝖗~

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bioodorange · 3 years

Text

||How I See The Pastas||

This was originally supposed to be how they looked but I decided to go for mental aspect and explain why as well PLEASE like, reblog and share your thoughts on this in the comments or inbox

Below the desciptions are images i’ve compiled and some art (if you know the creator please tell me so i can credit them) for a visual

dont forget to like reblog and share your thoughts with me, I spent a few days on this so i’d appreciate this

Jeff the Killer

So lets start with the obvious- jeffs pasty white toothpaste lookin skin

But realistically he wouldn’t be completely covered in scars

It would be blotchy, with pink fleshy patches among the burns

He most likely has contracture scars, third degree burns that turn the skin a pale white and tighten the skin

This explains his gaunt features and skin color

Now we have to take into account the vodka that was splashed on him, he’d probably have worse burns there with exposed flesh and damaged nerves

This would result in gnarly exposed skin, a damaged scalp and maybe damage to his teeth and eyes

Realistically, Jeff wouldnt have burned off his eyelids that alone would have resulted in blindness and death

Than his smile, his signatuure mark would probably be more of a gangly bloody scar mess

Pastas heal faster and aren’t really human, he’d have to recut his smile pretty frequently making it pretty jacket up because ltes be honest hes far from clean

ANd than his hait being chard black is very unlikely because as nasty as he is he s h o w e r s

not very frequnetly given his living situation and untreated burns but people can figure out how to wash hait and not much else

also i think its funny he’d shower with a plastic bag on his face to avoid getting soap in his nasty infected scars-

His hair would probably be dry and cut unevenly, more of a dark brown color with blonde undertones

Not to mention his burned scalp, hair probably wouldn’t grow there so he’d have a cool unintentional side shave

Jeff would also be a tall individual, he cant really eat, snacking on things from his victims homes giving him a more skeletal build

His personality and mindest is about as pretty as his face- but he most likely has a very screwed up headspace

Lacking in self care, maturity and sanity its fair to say he’d be a brash and violent person

Fun Fact: While researching this I learned that some versions of the joker had facial scars in the shape of a smile

Ticci Toby

So tobys age, unlike a lot of pastas, is pretty well agreed on, 19

So unlike when he was first a proxy toby most likely has stronger facial features and facial hair

Because shaving and hygiene isn’t first priority for pastas (gross-)

He stands around 5′7 and has grayish skin

Toby i feel is picky about foods, not only is it hard for him to eat its hard for him to keep food down

He’s malnourished explaining his thin figure and grayish skin

His hait is dark brown and a curlish mess, unkempt but short so it doesn’t get in his way

I’ve always seen him with a small gap in his teeth, because I can

And since toby can’t feel shit I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to eat rocks simply because he fuckin could

So some chipped teeth that are a bit uneven

Along with his CIPA and not eating enough Toby would bruise easily and have lots of scars, from things like cutting his finger on accident or getting mauled by a racoon

I wouldn’t be surpised if some of his joints were a bit screwed up, because whenever theyd beak or fracture he wouldn’t notice, this would probably happen a lot causing them to not heal correctly

One of tobys habits is nailbiting but he cant te;; when too far is too far

His fingers may be abit odd looking, knobby and discolored nails because of how exetreme his habit is

Would most likely have bandages around his fingers frequently to prevent the habit

So theres a lot of debate about tobys cheek was it the CIPA or the car accident, I beileve the accident because his other cheek is completely fine, theres damage from the OUTSIDE to inside and considering his sister died in the accident its unlikely he survived unscathed

Fun Fact: only a small handful of people have ever been diagnosed with CIPA, less than 500 (documented) cases around the world

Bloody Painter

So Helen is often seen as quiet emo painter boy

but uh no <3

Personaly i beileve he suffers from narcisistic personality disorder, exetreme importance and that he is always victorious and gets what he wants

This sporuts from the constant heavy invalidation from classmates, toxic friends and neglect from his parents

He doesn’t hang out with people because he doesn’’t lie them its because they never let him in the past and he beileves he’s better than them

But this also links to deep rooted insecurity and social anxiety/being inept completely

Him being nice is basically so you like him, he wants validation amd admiration not love

Unlike the other pastas he’d be a more clean well kept one a helthy figure and some tattoos bevause he can

I beileve he lives in socity, finding hus victims in girls and men alike who fall for his charm

he uses hhis skill and ordinary appearance to blend in on the streets

From his behavior helen most likely keeps his hair a bit shorter and clean

He always looks his best

Has chapped, and picked at lips because of his anxieties

Aswell as his breakdowns- his identity is completely in his head, he is very unsure of who he is and takes the delusions in his mind as reality

Unrelated but paino fingers-

And finally in order for his art to be as perfect and amazing as him, he has to be apart of it

Thus using his own blood in his pieces and the body parts of those he admires

Covers his scars with clean bandgaes

But his paintings turn brown and dry out, he’s always in need of a new medium

Is most likely anemic from all the blood he looses and has a paler skintone

Clockwork

ahh yes finally someone who knows what self care is-

helen, i love you buddy but you need to stop

But anyway natalie has a stronger, athletic build

She often chases her victims and gets in altercations, relying on strength most of the time

on that same note, this would defintelty cause many scars on natalie

Wether it was a bite mark or scars from a kitchen knife, shes got lots of scars

A few even on her face

Now, for the clock in her eye that thing is like holding her skull together at this point, realistically

She is probably delicate and cares for it becaise 1) it hurts 2) if it gets screwed up that could cause a lot of problems

natalie would be a smart person, I wouldn’t be surprused if she had a few other stray stitches or bandgaes wrapped around a fresh wound

For more visual-ish things uh m u l l e t (credit: @cum-looking-sock-mf in a chat like 4 months ago)

She has one, fight me on it

but also thick and curlish hair so I also riase you

Undershave

just y e s

I can also see her getting tattoos over certain scars on her arm, just to make them look not so ugly

I feel like clockwork wishes things worked out better

Wishes for another chance but knows she’ll never get one

Thus her taking goof care of herself

Natalie throws herseld into her “work”, keeping her body in shape and killing people

Its a way to avoid her life and that it is- a huge, sad mess

Shes an outgoing impulsive individual, confident but questions her actions

She’s also unstable- protective and loyal but explosive and strong

Jane the Killer

Jane is the final one, im sorry I couldn’t do more theres a photo limit and I wanna bash my head into the wall

Now a main different between her and jeff is she had surgery and lie treatment

Janes skin is still greatly scarred but it is greatly healed

She takes care of it and had skin grafts

Her face is disfigured, a scarred smile and burns around

But unlike Jeff she doesn’t recarve the cut so its a cleaner line and a lot healthier

Janes hair took a rather long time to grow back, but it did!

She has a slightly long pixie cut a bit choppy but she doesn’t mind

Her wife definetely cuts it for her and you can fight me over that

I can see Jane having a lot of facial trauma, scars around her nose and cheeks

She was young when she started killing and went for the over the person, pin them down kill which didn’t work out

She switched to a silenced pistol after awhile, you know like a smart person

Janes arms and legs are in alright condition where most of the burn trauma is on her back

She has a leaner but healthy figure but like boobs-

Like clockwork and Helen she takes care of herself

She doesn’t kill as frequently, going after a few of jeffs victims before him and is of course, actively hunting him down

Her eyes are a pale green and she wears makeip to fill in her eyebrows because those bitches take a long time to grow back

fun fact: jeff has no eyebrows, fight me

#jeff the Killer #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #slenderverse #slenderverse headcanons #jeff the killer head canons #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #bloodypainter #bloodypainter headcanons #clockwork headcanons #clockwork #jane the everlasting head canons #jane the everlasting #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons

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k1ng-for-a-day · 3 years

Note

Could you possibly do some fluff/nsfw Headcanons for The Shape x Killer! S/O? Like maybe his s/o gets stuck in the entity’s world too? Thank you!

:000 Oh my god thank you so much for this request!! I honestly never thought I would get one I feel really flustered just by looking at this.

A Michael Myers and killer S/O... how would that go...

❤️SFW❤️

🔪🖤 When Michael first saw you, he thought of you as another killer who landed into the entities arms. In short he never had much of a heart for you. At all.

🔪🖤 After a couple of rounds and seeing your tactics, he immediately became invested. He was intrigued by this seemingly new found power a killer like you would have. Whether it was your weapon that was sharp yet pristine, or the way your body shapeshifted into many directions. It was very amusing in his eyes.

🔪🖤 The thing that really kicked it off was how you would ask Michael for some advice. He found it oddly adorable, but he would never admit it. He would say things very bluntly, or write it down for a more in depth explanation. (Down side to that was his somewhat horrendous hand writing). At first you could barely understand it at all, and ask what he meant on a certain sentence or paragraph, which would cause him to demonstrate it. In his mind he believes that his handwriting is decent in a way.

🔪🖤 When he discovered that you couldn’t read it fully, he was somewhat shocked at this. He tried to make it a little bit better, which worked mostly. You could finally read his notes properly, and studying his handwriting really did help you a lot. (Keep this is mind)...

🔪🖤 After you two started talking more and more, he became a bit more close to you, and showed you things he wouldn’t with anyone else. Hell, he wouldn’t even show Danny these at all. (Or Ghostface. He’s really close with him).

🔪🖤 What he presented to you was this:

A picture of his family. It was wholesome, sweet, and his cute little blonde hair made you smile. This was something he showed Danny.

A key to his house in Hadonfield. This was something that was somewhat special to him due to the nostalgia of his old family, even though he did kill Judith. He definitely didn’t show Ghostface this place. (Knowing Danny he would trash it in an instant).

His favorite blade- A kitchen knife. It’s vertical simple, but to him it’s like an artifact. It’s like a painting at a museum, or some beautiful necklace at an expensive jewelry store. He enjoys it very much. Danny has seen this one too many times.

His face.

🔪🖤Once Michael finally revealed his face to you, it felt like your goal was achieved. Something inside you felt complete; you were finally whole. His beautiful eyes gleamed at you softly, but somewhat shyly. He was kind of blushing. It was weird to see this man seem so defeated, but satisfying nonetheless.

🔪🖤At first when he revealed his face, he felt a bit insecure about it. After you quickly examined his face, he covered it up instantly. He was scared that you wouldn’t like it, however that was false.

🔪🖤You would attempt to ask him if he would take it off, but he shook his head no. Course you were sad about this and ask why. He would shrug. He just doesn’t want to. If you annoy him enough, or give him a small gift, he might slip a small peak. However, he’ll quickly put it back on afterwards.

🔪🖤Later on he started to gain a bit more trust, and take off his mask for a little more time. (This phenomenon was only when you two were alone). At first it was only for a quick second, but slowly grew on to be a bit longer. A minute, five minutes, fifteen, and the longest was an hour.

🔪🖤This ‘special hour’ of mask-less Myers was a glorious site. His hair was so fluffy, his eyes were so soft, and his skin was surprisingly smooth. Everything was amazing. You two would talk about your past lives, feelings for certain killers, and just deep conversations in general. Sometimes you would even lay on his shoulder. It was soft as well.

🔪🖤After a while, Michael starts to lighten up to you about stuff that swirls around his mind. Not only does he talks about the survivors, but he talks about his day in general. (Most of it is written on a paper though). Even though Myers doesn’t feel emotion, his writing almost seems like something from a Shakespeare play. It’s somewhat sweet, but very talented.

🔪🖤You complemented Michael every time he wrote these things to you, but he seemingly shrugged it off. It seemed like you were ignored. It was kind of strange.

🔪🖤Months later you were mainly focused on hunting down survivors, and attempting to talk to Michael. Even though you tried to talk to him before a match, he became a bit more distant to you. It was to the point you thought he wasn’t fond of you anymore. You almost felt used.

🔪🖤When you confronted Michael about this, he just stared at you blankly and didn’t say anything. He didn’t even write anything at all. The reason for this was because he was scared. He was paralyzed. You didn’t catch onto this, and just walked away thinking that he didn’t actually care about you. Then again he isn’t suppose to feel emotion.

🔪🖤The next day he wrote you a small note explaining why he was distant. It was mainly due to the harshness of the entity and how displeased he was. He became so distracted by you that he started killing less and less victims. It was to the point no one was hurt at all. He was very sincere about his apology, and even brought you a small gift; an Ebony Mori.

🔪🖤Was he this crazy to give this to you..? This has to be a mistake. He didn’t need to do this!

🔪🖤The next day Michael tapped you on the shoulder, and lead you back to his house, but in a secluded area. This place was empty, but slightly warm. It was welcoming.

🔪🖤He handed you a small piece of paper, and rubbed his arm nervously. He stared at you, blushing underneath the mask.

🔪🖤You read the note, carefully: “My dearest, S/O, I wanted to know if you’ve had these odd feelings before. These stimulants that react in your brain that seemingly damage your heart once it all crumbles. This void then replaces those crumbling bits that fell through your heart. It’s like a burning passion that your to afraid to leave. I never understood these feelings of grief, pain, happiness even. I only knew hatred, death, and seemingly nothing more. I was only a prodigy made to enforce pain, but once you came to me, my eyes opened into newer possibilities. I was seemingly morphed into this new being that could finally see what others saw with my own eyes. I could finally feel. So I have to ask, do you truly love me? Would you take my hand and hold it close to yours?”

🔪🖤You looked back at him and blushed in shock. You never thought that he would do something like this, let alone to you. He stared right back at you with his mask off, awaiting your answer.

🔪🖤”Michael,” you spoke, “of course I love you!”

❤️NSFW❤️

🔪🖤Later that night, Michael stared at you with a soft smile. He thought about how beautiful you were, and how your body was perfectly made. It made him feel something much more interesting; lust. He longed for that smooth touch of your body near his, and was somewhat needy,

🔪🖤When he writes his notes, he’ll sometimes ask if you want to do something ‘strange’ with him. You didn’t realize what it was, but he’ll elaborate onwards about it.

🔪🖤If you do consent to this ‘strange’ thing, he’ll show you what he means by using his own collection of “tools”.

🔪🖤When you saw this ‘collection’ you were immediately shocked. Michael was into collecting.. sex toys? What the fuck..? You stared at him blankly, just merely in disbelief. He simply twitches his head to the side. ‘Was it not normal to collect things like this?’ He ponders for a bit.

🔪🖤You just shook your head, and decided to follow through with this ‘strange idea’ of his.

🔪🖤The first thing Michael wanted/needed was to be loved. To be kissed specifically. He likes affection before the actual event begins.

🔪🖤He took off his mask and stared at you with his widened eyes. He observed you like an a diamond, and slowly pulled you towards his lips. He kissed you on the cheek for starters, since he was inexperienced at the time.

🔪🖤He slowly started to go near your lips, and peck them gently in order to assert some form of neediness. Sometimes he would bite you lip on purpose in order to hear you squeal quietly. It was adorable, but he’ll never admit it.

🔪🖤As he kissed your lips, he finally advanced to something much more enticing; he inserted his tongue.

🔪🖤As he entered your mouth, you were in a bit of shock, but hypnotized by this taste. It was addicting to feel his mouth, and the soft but tough texture complemented both of you perfectly.

🔪🖤The next thing he would do was slowly take off his jumpsuit, (or whatever tf it’s called), and tease you a bit. He wouldn’t fully take off his clothes, and leave you there to beg for more.

🔪🖤And honey, you really did beg. You begged so badly that you were practically on your knees at this point. And he was amused by it. Definitely amused if you know what I mean.

🔪🖤You slowly crawled towards him, and pull it fully down to reveal his trousers. You could tell he was hard in an instant. You weren’t to sure how big it was at first, but once his boxers was off it was revealed in its entirety.

🔪🖤It seemed like a horse cock in your eyes. It was pretty thick, and was about 8 maybe 9 or 10 inches. No matter the size, you were still intrigued. You placed your hands on it in order to give him a good start. You just stroked it gently. Since it was your first time, you were very nervous. Extremely scared about this.

🔪🖤After stroking it softly, Michael was about to cum. He slowly grabbed your delicate head, and rammed it on his snake! He would then proceed to pull your hair while you were sucking it so delicately. When he was at his full release, he would cum inside your mouth and pull out. His last bit of white was all over your face. Just like he showed you.

🔪🖤From then on, when Michael was horny, he would bring you into his ‘sex dungeon’ of sorts. What you both discovered was that he was big into knife play. He enjoyed bringing your/his weapon up against your throat, and slowly licking your neck.

🔪🖤What you also found out was when Michael had extreme urges, he would deadass break into your match and fuck you in a bush or a closed off area. Sometimes you would ask, “what about the entity? What about the survivors?” But he didn’t care. All he wanted was you, and he was able to cum inside you. He didn’t give a flying fuck if someone like Jake Park saw this shit with his own eyes. Hell, he wouldn’t mind if he joined in! (Actually he definitely would).

🔪🖤Before you two would complete his desires, Michael would give you a piece of paper asking if you would partake in his acts, (even if you really wanted to for the whole day).

🔪🖤He also uses his sex toys during these phenomenons when the time comes. He also likes to put marks around you, add a collar on you, and degrade you when he’s really in an enraged mood.

🔪🖤Sometimes he’ll threaten to record a session on Danny’s camera if you don’t behave. Of course he wouldn’t do it since he doesn’t know how it works, but that usually gets you to behave in an instant.

🔪🖤Aftercare with Mikey is actually quite wholesome. After you use the bathroom, eat something sweet, or some other thing he’ll ask if your ok. If you say ‘yes’ then he’ll kiss you on the cheek and tell you how much he loves you. If you say ‘no’, he’ll start to feel bad and tell you how much he actually cares for you, and positive things to brighten your mood. He’ll even take you to Sally if you’re not feeling well.

Well I hope you enjoyed this headcannon I guess. I know it’s probably not up to your expectations, but I tried. And again thank you so much for requesting this. I was just shocked when someone finally said something! Thank you so much!

(Also please don’t mind the weird spaces! I copied and pasted this from my notes, so that’s the reason why the spacing is weird. I can’t stop it from doing that..)

117 notes · View notes

razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

The Sound of Thunder (Spoilers)

This post contains spoilers for the future direction of The Sound of Thunder. If you do not want to read spoilers, stop here.

The Sound of Thunder is basically inspired by Silence of the Lambs with Lightning playing the role of Hannibal Lecter and Fang stepping into the shoes of Agent Clarice Starling.

The story opens with Fang be sent to interview Lightning in a secure facility. Amodar wants to get her insight into a case since someone has begun to commit murders that are eerily similar to those committed by Lightning. The critical difference is that while Lightning killed sister, she often focused her ire on the younger sister whereas the present murders seem to show greater anger toward the older sister.

Lightning’s sister, Serah, is currently in protective custody, her whereabouts unknown.

After a brief conversation, Lightning taunts Fang but takes an interests in her, revealing the differences between her murders and the present murders.

That’s where the first chapter finishes.

The basic idea of the story is fairly simple. Fang is going to try to put together the clues to identify the murderer while bodies continue to pile up.

Things get increasingly tense when Yuna and Rikku are abducted. Yuna’s father is a powerful politician, and he demands that something be done. What disturbs Amodar and Fang is that the two aren’t actually sisters. However, when asked about this, Lightning tells Fang that it isn’t necessarily the blood relationship that matters, so much as the bond between the two. After all, she didn’t just target any old pair of sisters. Lightning always went after the sisters that were the closest.

It is during this time that Serah Farron apparently disappears from police custody. After consulting with the witness protection program, Fang discovers that the murders have occurred in areas not far from Serah. She believes that Lightning’s ‘admirer’ is trying to finish what Lightning started by killing Serah.

Lightning just laughs when she’s told this, telling Fang that her ‘admirer’ would never be so crass as to take what’s hers, not if they know what’s good for them. Fang points out that Lightning is stuck behind bars, but Lightning merely smiles and tells Fang that she’ll be out soon enough.

Fang begins to believe that Lightning knows exactly who the killer is. This belief is further bolstered when forensic analysis shows that the weapon and style used to kill the latest victims is archetypical of the veterans from Lightning’s old unit in the military. Many of them simply vanished off the face of the earth after the war, and still others were lost in the conflict but never confirmed dead.

With the days passing and Braska (Yuna’s father) growing more desperate, he decides to use his political clout to force a meeting with Lightning. Lightning was a former soldier, someone who loved the outdoors and a good bit of exercise. These days, she’s cooped up in one of the most secure cells in the world.

His offer is simple. If she can give information that allows them to save his daughter and Rikku, he will have her transferred to a new cell on a deserted island. She will still be confined, and the island itself is so isolated that escape would be meaningless, but she will get more time outdoors, and a cell that allows her to do some indoor exercise.

Amodar urges Braska to reconsider, but Braska is adamant. It is at this point that Fang’s sister, Vanille, disappears. Fang is horrified, especially when a cryptic message left at the scene suggests that the one responsible is indeed the killer. She seeks out Lightning’s advice, only to find that Lightning has already been transferred as is being held in another secure location.

Dr Jihl Nabaat tells Fang that she should hurry. As Lightning’s former warden, she protested the move, but was overruled. She doesn’t think that Lightning’s new minders will be able to hold her. They don’t know what they’re dealing with.

Fang hurries to the location where Lightning is being held.

Meanwhile, Lightning is being wonderfully civil. She has passed on information to Amodar indicating that the killer is a former colleague, someone who grew up in a broken home, someone who grew to blame someone in his life that he viewed as something between a sister and a lover for his ills. During their time on the front, they came to understand one another and she learned that he planned to enact his own bloody vengeance on the world.

His name? Caius Ballad.

During a seemingly uneventful dinner, Lightning begins her escape. Faking a seizure, she lures the inexperienced guards close enough for her to kill them and take the keys. She then takes their weapons and sounds the alarm. As the backup team rushes to her ‘cell’, Lightning begins to systematically hunt them down, wiping out the entire team. She does this by wounding some of the members to lure out the others and erode team discipline while using the bodies of the guards she killed as props to draw attention at critical moments.

Rather than attempt to escape through the front door, Lightning instead takes advantage of the building’s geography to escape first to the roof and then over to a nearby building where she kills someone else, takes their clothes, and disguises herself using a hat to hide her hair. She even changes her gait and simply walks out of the building as reinforcements rush into the original building.

Fang arrives on the scene shortly after, and Lightning actually stays to watch her. When Fang somehow manages to trace Lightning’s steps via intuition and cunning, Lightning ambushes her. Rather than killing her, Lightning knocks her unconscious, but not before leaving her with a few clues.

When Fang regains consciousness, she tells Amodar what she has learned, and she finds out that Caius Ballad isn’t really the one responsible. Instead, when they track him down, they find out that he’s been dead for years. In fact, it looks a lot like Lightning killed him herself. The isolated cabin he was in was also rigged with a trap that killed most of the team sent to apprehend him.

Following Lightning’s tip to investigate the ‘chains of the past’, Fang delves into Lightning’s history. She discovers evidence that after Lightning’s parents died, she and Serah became abnormally close. At this time, they were badly let down by the system. They lost their house. They had to resort to begging to survive, and Lightning ended up joining a gang to make ends meet. It was during this period that Lightning’s kills were believed to have begun. This relationship only deepened until Serah met Snow Villiers. This enraged Lightning who saw it as a betrayal.

Lightning went to war only to return and find that Serah and Snow were going to get married. It was around that time that Lightning’s killings began to ramp up. Fang believes that Lightning saw Serah marrying Snow as the last piece of her family abandoning her and leaving her all alone. It was notable that in the car accident in which Lightning’s parents died, Lightning never lost consciousness whereas Serah did. Lightning spent three days in that ravine trapped next to the dead bodies of her parents trying to get out of the wreck and save her sister. The other driver would escape charges due to political connections but would later be killed during a robbery gone wrong.

Snow would later be killed in a car accident, but the more Fang investigated the matter, the more certain she grew that it wasn’t an accident at all. That was when Lightning’s killings took on an even more gruesome style, culminating in the hideously awful murder scene where Lightning forgot to cover her tracks. Some of her hair was found on the scene, along with fingerprints. This was how Lightning was caught.

But something about the old case files bothers her. Looking more closely at the wounds on that last, pivotal set of murders, Fang notices that the older sister was actually harmed more than the younger one - something closer to the current murders. Moreover, the knife work isn’t quite as expert as in Lightning’s older murders.

She doesn’t know quite what to make of it, but as she delves into the archives containing Lightning’s old records, she finds a note about a location very dear to Lightning: an old beach house in Bodhum. It was never hers, but her family used to walk past it every day. Fang has a hunch, and she follows it to the beach house.

There, she discovers that although it should be abandoned, there are signs that it has been lived in recently. Preparing herself, she makes her way inside. She finds Yuna and Rikku huddled together in a dark pit. She tries to call it in, but there is a jamming device in place. She is about to leave and call for reinforcements when she spots a familiar bit of clothing nearby. It belongs to Vanille.

Fang can’t bear to leave. She presses onward and finds Vanille unconscious and strapped to a chair. However, before she can leave, she is ambushed and knocked unconscious herself. When she wakes up, she finds herself staring into the face of Serah Farron.

Suddenly, it all clicks in Fang’s mind.

Lightning was never the sole killer. She and Serah had been killing people together, right from the start, most likely beginning with the driver who crashed into their car and killed their parents. The reason they’ve been killing sisters is because they don’t very highly of them. They see them as not being close enough, of not caring about each other the way Serah and Lightning do. In fact, Fang remembers that as close as the murdered sisters generally were, there were always rumours of friction and occasional arguments - imperfections in Lightning and Serah’s eyes. After all, alone and with none one else to turn to, Lightning and Serah always had each other. How could they respect people who couldn’t even manage that?

When Fang tells Serah this, the other woman is impressed.

Fang also explains her suspicions about what happened later. Snow’s accident wasn’t an accident. Lightning sabotaged his car. Serah says that is exactly what happened, and she framed Lightning for the last murder to get her arrested and killed. However, Lightning surrendered and avoided being killed, and she was then put out of Serah’s reach for revenge since she genuinely loved Snow.

Her plan was to then commit more murders knowing that Lightning would be drawn out. This succeeded, and she went after Vanille to get to Fang since she thought Lightning found Fang intriguing, and Lightning hates it when people mess with her stuff.

Sure enough, Serah is still talking when Lightning arrives.

The two sister square off. In the midst of their battle, Fang manages to free herself and Vanille, and they run for it, saving Yuna and Rikku along the way. The beach house is destroyed in an explosion when Serah, who starts losing, detonates a trap she’d set beforehand.

This spells the end of the two sisters.

Or so Fang thought.

A few months later, having received a commendation for her efforts, Fang gets a letter. It’s from Lightning. She thanks Fang for a most interesting adventure, especially the chance to reunite with her sister. Fang doesn’t have to worry. Lightning has other scores to settle and other people to kill, and she wants to see how far Fang can go.

A few days later another letter arrives.

It’s from Serah. In her words, she tells Fang that the world failed her and Lightning. They spent years afraid, wondering what new horror the next day would bring in. She talks about how often Lightning came back home bruised and beaten from her work with the gang, and how often Serah had to steal and lie to get essentials. She tells Fang that she and Lightning are going to settle their score one day. She hasn’t forgiven Lightning for Snow, and she probably never will, but she has other people to go after first.

A few days later, two sets of murders begin. They’re no longer targeting sisters, but Fang knows who is responsible. She joins the special team Amodar is putting together to catch the two sisters.

X X X

Author’s Notes

So, yeah, there is an unedited stream of consciousness of the ideas I had regarding where the story would go. Obviously, it’s very rough, but this was the ‘skeleton’ of what I thought might happen. Had I written it in full, I would have fleshed it out and tinkered with it a lot.

#final fantasy xiii #fanfiction #the sound of thunder

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Life After Snowpiercer: Dragging Up The Past

Summary- 8.1k Curtis x You. Matt’s escaped and Curtis goes with a team to search for them. You figure you could talk to Edgar, maybe make him understand the circumstances of the past. Warnings- mentions of cannibalism, Smut, violence, swearing, all that good stuff.

A/N- The Story of Edgar’s Mom can be read in Past Horrors

Chapter 12 / Masterlist

Curtis was followed closely by Johanna, who was listening to all he was saying. “Get the council together, tell them Matt’s escaped. I'm going to find Edgar now. I will meet up with them in the office.” The woman faltered, her eyes wide as she looked at him. “Escaped? Escaped how?”

I wish I knew…

He shrugged at her and kept going, heading right to Edgar’s quarters while Johanna went to let the other three council members know. Once Curtis reached Edgar’s rooms, he knocked on the door softly to hear a rumbling ‘Come in’ Without announcing himself, he stepped in to find Edgar stretched on his back, his arm over his eyes as if blocking out the daylight filling the room. Once he lifted to see it was Curtis his pained look turned dark and enraged, even hatred filling the features of his young face.

“Get the fuck out Curtis, ya fuckin’ shite.” He pushed himself up, reaching for a knife. Curtis was quicker, crowding into him, his hand wrapped around his wrist to keep him from going for the knife, other hand at Edgar’s neck, holding him at arms length, well away from kicking feet and flying fists.

“Just answer me Edgar and I will leave you alone, okay? You can do that much right?” Curtis tried to say calmly as possible. Edgar was shooting daggered looks at him, trying to pry his grip off, his throat, wrangle his arm out of Curtis’s hold. “What the fuck ya want murder?” Slowly releasing him, Curtis backed off, his hands held up to show he wasn't armed, didn't want to fight. “Matt’s gone, please Edgar, tell me you didn't let him go Man?”

“What? Course I didn’t, I’m not fuckin’ stupid Curtis. I know he’s a murdering son of a bitch. I would never let him go.”

Curtis let out a breath of air in relief, he should have known, but Edgar was beyond angry at him, which he was rightly so. “What do ya mean he's gone?” Edgar questioned next.

“The locks were undone and everything, you were the last one to see him before…” Curtis shrugged and Edgar gave him a look.

“Ya, how do I know you didn't let him go? Hunt him down, kill him in cold blood? Sounds like something you would do.” Edgar snarked while sitting on his bed. “Now get out before I rethink my decision NOT to stab you in the face.”

“You really think that?” Curtis asked him incredulously, and Edgar glared at him.

“Ya, I fuckin’ do.” his accent rolling off his tongue the angrier he got. “Don't think I haven't forgotten you turning your back on me in the tunnels either Curtis. This, is what happens to those around you isn't it. They get hurt. My ma, me, Grey, Tonya, hell even through you, Y/N got hurt didn't she? Ya think they targeted her cause she was just some pretty looking tail ender in the back? No Curtis, they went after her cause she fucks around with you.” Curtis’s gut sank the more Edgar spoke, its black ideas clouding his mind, cause somewhere deep down, he believed every word. “You probably let Matt go so you could hunt him down yourself… The only reason he isn't dead now is cause Y/N begged you not to.” Edgar’s chin lifted a notch, challenging Curtis to deny it.

He couldn't, cause it was true. Without a word, he left and slammed the metal train door behind him. Edgar smirked in anger, knowing he had hit a nerve with him. “Thought so.”

Curtis tried to shake Edgar’s words, but the bloomed through his mind until he believed it. That wasn’t going to stop him from hunting Matt down, and when he re entered the sleeping quarters you were curled up in the chair, unfolding when you saw him. “Curtis, is it true?”

“Yes, it is. He's gone, along with a weapon and the keys.” He started to pull on more clothes, and prying open the closet door in the room, he brought out the ax he originally brought in there. Your eyes widened seeing his preparations, even pulling out his long jacket that came from the tail end.

“What are you doing?” You tried to block him to answer you, gently but firmly, he silently made you step aside. “Curtis! Answer me! Where are you going?”

“We have to go get him Babygirl, all of them. Not just Matt. If we don't, they are just going to attack again.”

You shake your head, and try to make him pause once more. “No, we can’t possibly know that. What are they going to survive on? Curtis, would you stop?” Your voice picked up, trying to make him take notice of you. Everything was just starting to go right for all of you, things for you and Curtis were heading back to normal. You didn’t want to loose him again to the madness, why did it have to be him? “Why does it have to be you?” Finally you come to the point you wanted to make, taking a shuddering breath. “Haven’t you done enough? You got us here, let someone else take this, do this.”

That made Curtis pause, you could see the haunch in his shoulders, the way his back lifted when he took a shuddering breath, saying so softly that it barely registered with you what he was saying. “Cause this is what I do.”

You're shaking your head, confused as to what he means, stepping up behind him and laying your hand against his quivering back, your brows furrowed in your concern. “You're not a killer Curtis.” Then he turned around and crowded you, backing you into the wall, his hands caging you in on each side and glittering cold blue eyes were inches from yours, his hot breath fanning your face.

“Are you sure Babygirl? Because killing is awful easy for me. I take what I want, damn the consequences. Don’t lie to yourself, you're tied to a killer. It’s really all i’m good at.”

Your breathing picks up as does your heartbeat in your chest, cause in this second it wasn't your Curtis, but a man who looks to be at the end of his tolerance. Your voice stutters slightly, shaking your head, at him and yourself. This was Curtis, and he would not hurt you.

“That's not true Curtis, you are not.” Your hands come up to press and fist your hands into his shirt, one last effort to keep him from leaving once more into bloodshed. “Just last night you were nothing but gentle and caring with me, putting me back together. That is not what a killer does.” You stressed, and he slammed his hands against the metal walls, making you flinch but not break your hold from him.

“Great deceiver I am. Open your eyes, Y/N. Its time you saw me for what I really am.” Gripping your chin, he kissed you with an anger stinging your lips you’ve never felt, and it made you gasp, trying to pull your head away when he crowded into you further, crushing you between him and the wall. There was no way for you to pull away from him and you gave a fearful whine against his mouth. He had never made you feel helpless, but you did here. The length of his body crushing you into the wall was solid, heavy, and familiar. But it was dangerous, his anger and stress making him hard and unyielding. Even his cock pressed hard and demanding against the softness of your stomach, there was no escaping him if he took more. Not even before the revolt was he like this. It sparked a fear in you that made your heart race.

When he pulled away, his own eyes shining a bit too much, he yanked himself away from you, leaving you behind to sink to the floor, and drop your head to your knees as you listened to his boots thudding down the aisle and further away from you. You’ve never felt so alone as you did right now. You didn't know what he had planned, what was going to happen. Your heart ached for your man thinking himself a monster that you knew he wasn't.

How could you just leave her?, Curtis thought to himself, hefting the ax over his shoulder as he stalked down the length of the train, the passengers he passed were quick to move away from him. Right now everything about him screamed killer, a man of walking death. Because I was out of control, and was going to just take her, hurt her. Shame flared in his cheeks that he really wanted to break you, make you tell him he was right, that Edgar was right, really proving that he was in fact, a monster to his girl. Blowing out a breath of air, he recomposed himself while going to meet with the other council members.

Curtis wasted no time, explaining what had happened, to the best of his knowledge to the other council members, and it was a unanimous vote that a team needed to go after Matt, right away, as well as those aiding him. “They are dangerous.” The Doctor said, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. “Do we bring them back alive though? Were not killers.” The healer in him at war with what was going on, he knew they would always be in danger from this group of renegades, but his instincts were to preserve life, not destroy it.

Curtis was leaning against a wall, lost in thought. “We can't really keep them alive either though, not with the danger they possess. They are still loyal to Wilford, and most likely that isn’t going to change.”

John and Margit kept quiet for now, but it was Margit who spoke up. The woman usually kept calm and collected during any of these meetings. “I say we let there victims decide there fate. Many of the women they attacked are still traumatized from there attacks.” Curtis lifted his gaze, clearly now his thoughts were on you, and last night how after you two made love, the way you look so relieved, so shocked that you still were able to feel any kind of pleasure in sex. “Maybe giving them this chance to decide what happens will ease there minds. That they are in control of it all, not there rapists and murders.”

The rest of the group nodded, and Curtis was able to agree to that. John moved to a stand, looking at Curtis. “I will go with you, help you bring them in. I know Johanna has offered, as well as several others.” Curtis nodded and pushed off from the wall, picking up the ax he had brought with him.

“Lets not waste anymore time then.” The two men headed out while the Doctor and Margit sighed, the deed heavy and they were glad they weren't the ones going out to hunt them down and bring them in. When the group gathered, Curtis picking up from where the tracks were frozen in the ground and they set off, hoping that the wind hadn't already blown them away. You watched from your window as they got smaller, hugging your arms around yourself, a soft frown etched on your face, and when they were finally out of sight, nothing but white landscape again, you turned away.

You needed to go talk to Edgar, this anger fueling Curtis was guilt from the past. Maybe if you could explain what happened, why it all went down as it did, that it wasn't just Curtis. It was all of you, everyone locked in the tail end going to a point of no return for survival. Maybe he could forgive Curtis, and then Curtis too could see that he wasn't the monster he believed himself to be. With resolve, you went to find him.

Matt trudged along, frozen now. He couldn’t feel his feet, his hands or his face. All of it frozen as he tried covering himself as much as he could with the jacket he had taken from the kid, cursing out his foul mood. “Why couldn't you all just take a closer train car? Fuck I got the keys, we could break right into there storage and just take all the weapons.” He muttered, and the ex guard whipped around to glare at him. “Listen Matt, your not in charge anymore, okay? Get off your fucking high horse why don’t you. Know how we’ve survived undetected by them? Cause were not right under their noses.” With that, he continued on, leaving Matt shivering and cussing him out before he started forward again, huffing.

“Well are we at least close? I think I got frostbite. Would you lose your toes if they have frostbite?” and the man before him shrugged.

“Sucks for you then. Were almost there.” he started to inspect the remaining train cars at the very end, till he rounded the one he was looking for, and swung up to grab the handle on the side and climb in, reaching back to grab Matt’s and haul him in. It was much warmer to Matt’s relief as the collected bodies and small fire warmed the enclosed space. Matt hurriedly went to the fire and started to peel off his shoes and socks to see the damage done. “You all been living here?” he asked as he looked around. It was much further in the tail end then hes been to in years, and the conditions showed it. Imagining it was pretty bad before even the train crashed. Bunks lined the walls, and they were piled with some blankets that looked pretty thin and rough, what looked to be garbage strewn into the corners of the car, and filth. So much filth, Matt shuddered to think what it could have possibly been at one time.

“Not like there’s a fucking Bed and Breakfast down the road.” the man grunted, letting his hands move over the fire to warm them back up.

“Wilford always told us you were going to take over once he passed.” Eric looked Matt up and down from across the flames, seeming to take him in. Other men came up, all as menacing as him. “ Wilford is gone, and we cant just go to join Curtis and his group.”

“No, after what you all did to Y/N and the others you really cant.” Matt said matter of fact. “That’s why they need to be killed. Curtis, the little council of leaders they made, those loyal to them. My sister. And I can help you. I know where they have shit stored. Please tell me Eric you all have weapons.”

“Not many, but we've been gathering supplies where we can.”

Matt pressed a hand to his forehead, and moved his socks and shoes closer to the flames. “You have anything that can possibly be used?”

“Barely, like I just fucking said. But, some of us are going scouting. If we were where I think we are, we’re not far from an actual city. There will be plenty of supplies if we search hard enough for them.” He jerked to a stand, leaving Matt kneeling by the fire.

“We're leaving tonight. I got some more clothes you can put on.” Eric grunted while he went to go dig through piles on a nearby bunk.

“I'm not going anywhere!” Matt huffed, trying to warm his feet up with vigorous rubbing. Eric tossed him extras of everything.

“But you are, Wilford trained you to be the next leader, and I am your appointed bodyguard should anything have happened. Understood? This is what the Boss wanted.”

Warily Matt stuffed his feet into dry socks. This entire time since he was taken from the tail end as a child, he corrupted himself for survival. Apparently Eric corrupted himself for Loyalty.

“I promise, Curtis and every one of those loyal fuckers to him will be dead.”

Matt didn't even try to hide the cold grin on his face as he pushed up to a stand, take out Curtis, take out the main problem. Now Matt was completely on board with this plan.

You went to Edgar’s room, and it was ajar, able to peek in to see him laying on his bed, arm slung over his eyes as if combating a headache.

“Edgar, are you okay?” you ask softly as you ease the door open. He didn't even bother to lift his arm when he responded.

“Go away Y/N, I have nothing more to say to any of ya’s today.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignored his request, stepping in and closing the door behind you, not wanting others to hear any of this.

“Edgar, you know I can't just leave you. Do you need some aspirin? I have some.” Reaching into your coat pocket, you felt around, searching for the tablets you knew you kept on you.

“No, I don’t want your fucking medicine Y/N.”

Your fingers closed around them, and you set them on the table, before moving to sit in a chair in the room.

“I know you're upset Edgar…”

“Upset?!” the younger man flipped around to a sit, his face laced with anger and betrayal. “I find out Curtis killed my Mom when I was a baby to eat us and you think I'm just upset?!”

“Okay, yes more than upset.” Your voice cracked a bit. “Edgar, you have to know… it was desperation. We were starving, and there was nothing left.”

“So we murder and eat one another?” He snorted out, looking away from your distressed face.

“No, no it was wrong, all of it. Everything we all did was… terrible. Driven by fear and pain, the whole Car back then, we lost our minds Edgar. There was no way out, it was nothing but darkness, trapped in that iron box with no escape. Packed on top of one another till we started to die off.”

Edgar still didn't say anything, and you looked down in your lap, wringing your hands together. “It was done on purpose, i'm sure of it now. Take out the weaker ones, only let the strongest survive. Wilford was testing us to see what it took for us to break.”

“You saying my Mum was weak?”

You gave a shake of your head and gave a weak smile. “Not at all, she died trying to protect you and that makes her one of the strongest people there was Edgar. She was what changed everything, Gilliam showed us then another way. Was it better? I- I don't know. It was brutal. Those scars Curtis has on his arm, is where he took a dull blade and try to cut off his arm. The only reason he still has it is because they brought the protein blocks, ending our starvation.”

Edgar still didn't look convinced, rubbing a hand over his face and glaring at you. “Does not make it right.”

“No, no it doesn’t. Trust me, Curtis and others have been living with that knowledge for 17 years, and hating themselves for it. Curtis still wont forgive himself. He was just a kid. Younger then you are now. Put yourself in his shoes Edgar, what would you have done?”

“Not that! Die I guess.”

“Edgar please. I'm not asking you to forgive Curtis, or any of us, just know it was a matter of desperation and survival.” You swallowed, and pushed your hand against the tears that had built up.

“Should I forgive Curtis for leaving me behind? Letting me get stabbed in his rush to reach Mason?” Edgar snapped, and you tilted your head in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“When we were going into the tunnels, Franco fucking Jr got a hold of me. If Curtis pulled back, he wouldn't kill me. Curtis saw and kept going.” Edgar hissed his next words. “Sacrificed me, and all for nothing wasn't it. Wilford was waiting for him this whole time.”

You shook your head, unsure and a bit of disbelief on your face. “I don't know anything about that Edgar, I wasn't there.”

“No Y/N, you weren't. Maybe you know Curtis, but do you really know all of him? All that he is capable of?” Going to his door and opening it, he tilted his head. “I think its time for you to go Y/N, i’m done with this conversation.”

You opened your mouth to say something more, defend Curtis once more, but Edgar shook his head and pointed out the door for you to leave, and you knew there would be no more talking to him about this, not yet anyways. Unfolding from the chair, you pushed yourself to a stand and walked out, turning before he could shut the door on you.

“Please, you don't have to forget or forgive, just know that Curtis cares for you like a brother. What happened, he will never be able to forgive himself for it. It will always be his greatest regret.”

Edgar looked away, you could see that it pained him, all of it. “As well it should.” and with that he closed the door, sealing himself away from you.

Feeling like you had accomplished nothing, you made your way towards the garden cart, hoping that maybe you can be useful there.

Night had fallen, and Curtis was just thankful that the stars and moon was bright enough to continue going. They had lost the trail for the most part, but now and then they would pass by what resembled footprints in the deeper snow. They had frozen over since the sun was quick to descend that day, so it was hard to tell exactly what any of it really was. None of them were necessarily expert trackers.

But the group continued on, checking damaged cars as they went along, further then they had been since settling down, and the amount of loss in all of them.

It brought the whole group into a very dark frame of mind.

Pulling up, John squatted in front of an entrance. “Curtis… this is several. In fact they are paths leading to this door.” He pulled himself to a stand, and placed his hand on the safety of the rifle he carried, trying to look into the darkness. Curtis came up behind him and looked in. “Stay watch, we will get a fire built, see if we cant find anyone inside.” Last thing he wanted was anyone bolting while they were busy making a fire. John and the man who helped them find a way out of the valley named Adam looked around the ground.

“I think anyone who was here left, straight across the ice.” He pointed where a bunch of the crust was broken, in a straight line.

“Animals hardly travel like that, and there’s a pretty good trail. I'm saying whoever was here is long gone, earlier today.”

After making the fire and checking the enclosure thoroughly, Curtis was apt to agree with John and Adam. Assuming it was the ex guards and Matt, they were quick to split figuring Curtis would be coming for them. Frustrated they just miss there target was an understatement, after picking through the useless remains of the car, Curtis sat near the fire, studying it. They could cross the ice, follow after them. But the fact remains they were not equipped for several days travel.

“Curtis just come home. They probably are just as bad off as you are.” You leaned against him, and although you were nothing more then a product of his imagination, he appreciated your warmth against him.

“Babygirl, if we let them go, they will just come for us again. Not to mention what they did to you and the others.” He said softly, letting his chin rest on top of your head, closing his eyes just enjoying his vision of you.

“I know Handsome, I just got you back, I'm not ready to lose you again.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“I almost did during the revolt.”

“We’re going to do this right. Go home, look over the maps to see where they might be headed and pack properly. No recklessness. We will be safe.”

You were silent, slowly fading away as he resolved on what to do. After a few hours, he spoke up, laying it all out for everyone to decide for themselves. The rest of the group agreed, and they made the trip home. Now that there was more of a plan in place, Curtis felt easier. That things were properly moving forward again.

Their arrival home, although a surprise, was welcomed by everyone. No one was hurt, everyone was safe, and although Matt wasn't caught or the others, no more loss of life felt kind of like a win still to the mass of the people.

You stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as Curtis made his way through, trying to answer questions about what they found, and what was next. “We will let everyone know soon, excuse me.” Pulling away from another voicing their concerns, he spied you and made his way to you slowly. “Y/N, Babygirl, I’m-”

You shook your head to quiet him, and he couldn't help the bit of fear that you wanted nothing to do with him for a moment. He hadn't forgotten how he left you, kissing his anger into you till it hurt you, how badly he wanted to just have you regardless of what you felt. His temper became a shade of red that blinded him. How was it that he only felt that loss of control with you.

“Let's talk in our room.” You didn't push him away, instead opened your hand to his and led him away from the crowd, letting John and Johanna take over the questions.

When you closed the door and turned back to Curtis, you could see him reach out to touch you, then pulled away and stepped back. His shame in his earlier actions laced in his voice. “I’m sorry I laid hands on you like that Y/N, I shouldn't have. If I hurt you in anyway” His voice drifting off with regret. Knowing he wouldn't touch you until you gave him permission, you stepped forward and pressed your hands against his chest to make him sit down on the edge of the bed. Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but first and foremost was relief he was okay. When he sat down, and his thighs spread you stepped into them, tugging his hat off to toss it aside, push your hand through his short soft bristles.

“You scared me Curtis.” You admitted. “You caught me by surprise, but then you were just gone. Going after Matt, and those others. I was so fucking scared you weren’t thinking clearly and were going to get hurt.”

His hands slid over your hips carefully, as it he didn’t really have the right to place his hands anywhere on you, giving a shake of his head. “I was angry, so fucking angry. I lost Matt, Edgar…” He sighed with defeat. “He was told about his mom in the worst way possible, and then you, in that moment, I just wanted to get lost in you and I almost did.”

Flashback filled your mind of his hard body trying to meld right against yours, his length pushing at his pants with arousal. “You've always been mine, to lose you because of my actions, would kill me.” shuddering out his weakness.

You frowned down at him, a hand pressing against his shoulders till he straightened back so you could see his face. “Curtis, you’re not going to loose me.” All those other thoughts were pushed aside as you saw his stress at the situation hardening his features. Pressing your hands against his shoulders so he fell back against the bed. “There is no one I love more then you, on this train, or in this world. You scared me, but you didn't hurt me, not really.” you wriggled on him till you could perch lightly on his stomach to look down at him.

“Well maybe you shouldn't Y/N.” He said, although his hands were settled against your waist, and Edgar’s words echoed back to you. Maybe you know Curtis, but do you really know all of him?

Yes you did, and you were going to prove it to both men if you had to. You might not know every detail, but you've shared your life with him since you both came on the train. There wasn't anything about Curtis that made you doubt him.

“That's not for you to decide Curtis.” You pushed his shirt up till he lifted enough to drag his shirt off, your hands sliding up and down the wall of his chest, the curls of hairs covering multitude of scars that now were no longer a shock to you as they had been at first. You appreciated every sacrifice he made getting them. You leaned over him and started with soft brushes of your lips down his chest, kissing where his heart raced against his chest, your hands rubbing against his sides and back up till you pushed up, back to his mouth and nipped on that full lower lip. “I make my own choices, and I’ve always chosen you. Why do you think you don't deserve that?”

Curtis scolded himself as you moved to straddle him, tugging off his shirt and then kissing on his chest. If he was a better man he would stop you, but he wasn't. Curtis craved you endlessly, and to see you hovering over him, your face set with determination, he couldn't stop you. He wasn't strong enough. There was no way he would ever be able to tell you no. His hands sought the warmth of your skin, and as soon as he slid them under your shirt, you shivered at his cool touch, but didn’t pull away. No you clenched your thighs against his sides and let your nose trail up the center of his chest.

“If I was a better man, I wouldn't have lost my temper.” Curtis sighed and tilted his head back while you started to kiss on his neck, and rock yourself back slightly. “I could have hurt you Y/N, I was close.”

“You might have been, but I don't think you would have. You never have before Handsome.” You pushed up away from him and started to work his pants open, your eyes bright looking down at him as you reached in and wrapped your hand around his length, stroking up and down slowly with a slightly firmer grip.

Curtis hissed as he jerked in your hold, digging his fingers more into your waist. “Y/N!”

You give a slight smile at his reaction knowing he was doing all he could to not push for more, sliding your hand up and down, your fingers dancing along the hard length. When you reached the base, you fondled his balls into your palm, give slight tugs and gentle squeezes. You never broke your gaze from him, dropping your head to wrap lips around his head and slide your tongue around the swollen head.

Having let go of your hips, he twisted his fists into the sheets and a ripping noise signaled that some of your bedding was ruined, which enticed you to drop further down to take him further. Pulling away, your tongue licked a stripe down the length, and he hissed once more, jolting when you teased his balls with the lap of your tongue and a pull of one into your mouth. “Babygirl, get the fuck up here.” He growled, when you pulled off him, and his arms grasped your forearm, bringing you to his mouth, and kissed you hungrily, hand moving from your forearms to grasp your ass and push you against him, you did a dirty grind against him, scrapping your hands through his beard and digging your fingers against his scalp, groaning into his kiss.

“Need you Babygirl…” He grunted against your lips and rolled his hips like he was going to roll you over, and you grasped his wrists behind you while you arched to sit up, looking down at him. “No Curtis, just stay right there.” You stated while lifting yourself off to a stand.

You were pulling off your clothes, and Curtis couldn't look away, turning away from him and letting your hair fall loose down your back from where you had it pulled back, tugging off your shirt and letting it fall to the floor, undoing your pants, and easing them down over the swell of your hips, and falling down your legs. Wrapping his hand around his erection, and stroking himself, he couldn't stop admiring, thankful you were his woman, and have been this whole time. You were starting to fill out now that you were eating healthier, your skin glowing now that you were in actual light. It occurred to him that this was the first time he's ever gotten to love you when he could really see you.

That hit him that you weren't going to be able to hide in the dark, you were really giving him everything. Looking over your shoulder, you made a motion with your hand. “Pants off Curtis.”

He wasted no time shimmying them off.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. This was a first for you, you normally let Curtis love you how he wanted, giving him what he wanted. This time you wanted to prove that he deserved to have all of you, he was a good man regardless of the circumstances life threw at him. Even with what Edgar said, you knew this, felt this with complete conviction. Once he was stretched out, completely naked, you sucked in a sharp breath. Seeing Curtis without all his layers, you could see just what a large man he was, muscles coiled, holding power that your felt driving into you before. Large hands that could span your back with a single palm and those hungry eyes, drinking you in just as much as you were with him. Approaching him once more, you straddled him, taking his cock, thick and hard, sliding it along your folds.

Feeling him underneath you though, that was familiar, and good. His thick head you pressed to your entrance, pushing down to sink onto him, that felt good, and you rolled yourself to take more, breathing through it.

“Your so good Babygirl, so tight.” You heard him strain out, and you moaned, giving a flex when you felt him bottom, full till the stretch was almost painful. Hands soothed along your taunt thighs folded gripping his hips, your own hands reaching for his and lifting them to cover your breasts as you started to move. Carefully at first, Curtis kept from thrusting up into you, palming your breasts, and his thumb pulling your buds, rolling till they turned sensitive in his hold, making you bite your lip at the sensation it caused. Almost a painful pleasure, making you drop harder onto his cock, giving a dirty roll to press your clit against him. “Fuck Curtis.” You purred at him, leaning down to catch his lips, sliding your tongue around his and rocking back to squeeze his cock. “Don't hold back.” he grunted against your lips, grinding you on him once more.

You pushed off his chest, and sped yourself up, panting at the intense pleasure feeling his cock so hard and thick brought to your clenching channel, fluttering around him with a need to cum. When he finally started to thrust into you, grasping your hips and drag you down his length faster, pushing more and more at different angles till you gave a sharp cry, making you breathless in the moment, that’s where he angled you, each dominating thrust he ground you against him. You were now getting lost above him, your belly coiling, fluttering with heat, those coils of pleasure so close to snapping. Curtis had his feet planted into the mattress to give him leverage, pulling your clenching pussy up and down his throbbing cock. Bouncing you up and down, till you grasped a hand at your waist and dragged it up to suck on his fingertips. The sight above him, feeling you moan around his digits filling your mouth, Curtis committed it to memory.

“I know this is what you want Babygirl.” he grunted hungrily, knowing it would bring you over, he pulled away from your lips and pressed his warm wet fingers against your throbbing pearl, rolling and pressing till you started sobbing out, rocking faster and harder. “Just feels so good, I don't want to cum, but I need to. Curtis I have to.”

Knowing how close you were, he gasped. “Do it Babygirl, cum all over me.”

You nodded, digging your fingers into his chest while grinding onto him, giving a silent scream while locking around him. Curtis wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his chest, slowing his thrusts to long drags into your weeping channel.

“So good for me Y/N.” He muttered into your hair, rolling you till you were pinned underneath him, pushing your hair back to he could kiss your neck, reaching to his hips to loosen your knees gripping him.

“All this trust, you make me so proud Babygirl.” Kissing down your body as he pulled out. You were still coming down from your orgasm and slid your hands against his back to dig fingers into your shoulders with a tight hold as he sucked and pulled, making you arch and spread your thighs further to feel his weight drop on you, press against your wet cunt while he dragged back further.

“I have to taste you.” massaging your inner thighs, trailing kisses along one side then the other. That first long taste he took, pressing through your drenched folds to twirl over your clit. Swirling and laying claim to your pearl. It was his, always has been. He knew the way you liked to feel his tongue press and pull, those tiny mewls of yours as you would start to rock, his tongue darting into your clenching channel.

It didn't take long till you were cumming again, locking your thighs around his head, and crying his name this time, unable to keep silent. Stronger hands then your thighs loosened them, pulling himself back up and claiming your lips, still in a daze, he worked you to respond, kiss him back. Your tongue lapping at your taste coating him. Shifting you just right, he sunk back into your swollen pussy, whimpering into his mouth.

“I don't know if I have another one in me… “You breathed against his lips, and placing his elbows on either side of your head, he leaned his forehead against yours, starting with shallow thrusts.

“Just one more Babygirl, I know you have one more. Fold your legs around me, and hold on.” You nodded, and did as he asked, legs going around him, opening yourself for him more as he drove in deeper, angling himself with each thrust till he found the spot that made you chant his name. Your arms circling his neck, rocking back and forth with him.

Dropping his head to your shoulder, speeding his thrusts to reach an end, he was hoarse when he urged you, grinding and rutting against your spot, kissing your neck, pressing his lips against your ear. “This one last time, I know you have it Babygirl.”

Your whimpers got louder, it was a edge of pain that just felt so fucking good, but you wanted to escape it. Curtis was relentless, each nudge making your thighs strain, muscles burning, and when you finally did snap, the most mind numbing bliss following after you flooded his cock, hiding your face in against his shoulder and biting the muscle hard. His hand cradled the back of your head against his shoulder, letting his own self go to bury into you harder and harder, deeper into your welcoming warmth, those tight grasps milking him to release, and when he did, the warmth spread through you, letting you sink into your own bliss, feeling him press his hips into you while holding his chest up to keep from crushing you. “Your just so fucking good Babygirl, I could stay like this forever.” Still hoarse, and panting, you twisted yourself into a better angle, cupping his face and making him look down at you, wedged underneath him, still full of his cock, that you could feel was starting to go soft now that he released.

“I could to Curtis, you make me feel good, safe, and loved. So I know I'm right where I belong, with who I belong. Regardless of what's happened in the past.” Tilting up, your lips found his, and you didn't share an urgent greedy lust kiss, but one of genuine affection and love, your hand sliding along his face to gently grasp at the back of his neck. Letting him pull back from your mouth, you winced as he pulled out of you and moved to get up, go get a washcloth.

You had to smile at him walking around naked, appreciating the flex of his muscles, he looked and seemed a bit more relaxed, coming back out, he was gentle as he cleaned you, knowing you would be slightly sore. But soon he was collapsing back beside you and you let your head fall lazily to his chest, facing him.

“You alright?” He asked as his fingers traced your face, brushing back your hair.

“Of course Curtis, we don’t have bad sex.” you grinned, nuzzling your nose against the hair on his chest, and he gave a soft chuckle, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I do have to ask though what happened? You weren't gone but a day. Where is Matt?”

He had closed his eyes, relaxing in the post orgasm feeling, but opened them once more hearing your question. “He met up with others, and they seemed to have abandoned their train car.”

Wrinkling your nose hearing this, you shifted in closer against him. “Probably knew you all would be coming for them.”

Curtis hummed in agreement, letting himself enjoy the sensation of you using him as your pillow, still tracing you with a slight touch of fingertips. “We will be going back out, proper this time. See if we cant at least find where they are headed off to.” He felt you tense, but then relaxed back into him, and he continued. “If we don't, they will just keep coming.” And there will never be proper peace to settle into living. But he didn’t add that, knowing you were already on edge with the situation. You lifted your head to study him a moment, and nodded. “Of course, I trust you Curtis.” Settling back down, the room was getting that sunshine warmth often felt in midday, and it was making Curtis sleepy, thinking you were drifting off in the same direction.

But you werent, you knew you needed to share your discussion with Edgar, he would want you to tell him. So you cleared your throat. “I went to talk to Edgar after you left.” Now it was his turn it stiffen, the tracing fingers stopping to slightly press into a hold, you could feel his voice drop and vibrate in his chest as he spoke.

“He wasn't cruel to you, was he?”

“No Curtis, he's hurt, but he didn’t do anything to hurt me.” You shifted a bit so you could see him better. “I told him more about what the tail end was like.” You could see Curtis' features start to close off, and you rubbed your hand against his chest, cause you were not and never would place the blame on him for what happened. He had to know that. “I don't know if anything I said sunk in. But he did say you sacrificed him, what was he talking about?”

Lifting a hand, he rubbed it at his face. Another mistake in his revolt. Just like leaving you in the tail end had been.

“I deserved that, I did turn my back on him when that front end asshole had him.” Curtis expected to see some disbelief, anger, disgust in your features. But there was none of that. You simply waited for him to continue. Hair over your shoulder, he couldn't help but reach for it, tangling it in his hold, curling it around his wrist. Maybe to keep you there, he wasn't sure. He just wanted to feel your tresses slide among his fingertips.

“I was going for Mason. This was before everything came out. Before I had any idea that Wilford wanted me in the front, that Gilliam had sent us to our deaths. I was this close to getting to her, she was our safety to get to the front. Our only chance, so I thought. That body gaurd of hers, he had grabbed Edgar from behind, who was following me. I heard him say my name… panicked. Mason, she was almost out of my reach, and they would have locked the doors. If they got her through and locked those doors, who knows if we would have gotten out. I had no idea if Nam was even still alive then. I made a choice.” You could feel him deflate a bit underneath you, your hand still sliding up and down his chest.

“And Edgar was stabbed because of it.” You said softly.

“I made the wrong choice, in that moment I knew I should have gone back. But… All I could think of is if we could just get Mason, maybe we wouldn't lose anymore people. She would escort us to the front.”

You stayed silent in that moment, turning your gaze from him to the outside world. One they hadn't seen until the revolt. One they might have never seen if Curtis hadn’t went for Mason in that moment. None of you would know what warmth from a sun streaming through glass would be like, what actual food was, fresh air. Taking a deep breath, feeling it fill your lungs with appreciation. What a shower with hot water was. All of this, might have only happened cause Curtis made a choice.

“It wasn't the wrong choice Curtis. Look where we are now. Who knows what could have happened if you didn't continue forward. We might all be dead now, bodies thrown off the moving train, and nothing changed.”

“I’ve done so much wrong to Edgar, I wouldn't blame him if he hated me for the rest of our days, he deserves to.”

You frown and look down at him, pressing your finger against his lips to hush him. “Stop, he’s just hurt and is confused about everything. Give him some time. It won't be the same, but you need to give him a chance to forgive you before you resign to that.” Shifting to sit up and reach over the bed to grab at clothes strewn down there. “We should probably head back out, i’m sure others are looking for you.”

“Most likely.”

Before you could tug anything on, Curtis wrapped an arm around you and dragged you back to him, sliding a tongue into your mouth and leaving you giving a halfhearted protest before you fell into the kiss, killing just a few more minutes before they finally redressed.

“So, that is what we’ve all decided on, and anyone that chooses to come will need to be up for at least a while out there. We don't know how far they have gone, but it's too dangerous having those men out there.”

There was some discussion among the people, and quickly volunteers came out. One person raised a concern. “Who’s staying from part of the council? And what happens if you don't come back.”

“Dr.Price is staying, along with Margit and Y/N, you all will continue what needs to be done. Keeping the animals alive and healthy, as well as the greenhouse. We need both of them. Harvest, gather. Conserve the energy on the train, there’s still plenty of water and electricity. That battery is holding. If something happens to us, do what you must to continue, together.”

His eyes filtered over the crowd to see Edgar hanging at the back of the crowd, his arms folded over his chest as he listened. Curtis didn't expect him to push up to the front, but he did.

“I’m coming to, Matt escaped on my watch. It's only fair I make sure he comes back.”

With a nod, Curtis accepted and looked over the group ready to make the trek into the unknown.

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