i know it isn’t a *canon* skin, but can you do an incubus mccree (based off of otherwindow’s edit) with #79? thank you 💕
If you weren’t in such a panic, you’d be able to feel the burning pain in every inch of your body as you run from the creeps behind you. Your legs were starting to flex with each movement due to exertion, your arms were shaking as you tightly gripped your hands to fists, and your lungs were hardly able to huff enough oxygen to sustain you, starting to feel blood in the back of your dried throat. But none of it phased you as you fled for sanctuary in what seemed to be the edge of all civilization.
You kept wondering how you ended up in the situation you found yourself in. Recently, it had just seemed the world was against you. Getting fired from your job, losing your best friend to a petty argument, and just the sheer loneliness you’d been feeling recently was all beginning to take its toll on you. And when those assholes wouldn’t have the common courtesy to point their stupid camera away from you, you’d hit a breaking point. A confrontational impulse awoke inside of you and you watched yourself point fingers and insults to the bunch of men before it was too late for you to stop yourself. You took their camera and they quickly retaliated by pulling out a knife. Dropping the camera on the ground, you ran, but their priority had shifted away from the camera and towards terrifying you.
Your legs had taken you far, so far you didn’t even know where you were. The trees around you were spaced plentifully, proving to be both a blessing and a curse as they allowed you to maneuver practically yet also gave your chasers a decent view of their targets. You couldn’t even hide within the grass or shrubbery, their height not enough to conceal you, almost as if they had been trimmed and cut. The woods around you were kept like the sight of a fairytale. Or the shooting sight of a horror movie.
And yet you were leaning towards the idea of the former when your eyes came across the silhouette of what what seemed to be a church, judging by the crucifix crowning the shadow. Relief flooded your body and a sudden realization of your exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You slow down your pace as you come to the doorway of the dilapidated, wooden church and open the doors with a desperate fury as your strength rapidly drained from you.
Quickly, you grabbed a nearby candlestick, surely the group after you had noticed you entering the building. It was only a matter of time until you were found out by them, so you wanted to get the upper hand once the situation arose.
The church was clearly abandoned, you had only seen a glimpse from the dim moonlight casted onto it from the outside, but it was much more detectable even with less lighting. It reeked of rotten, wet wood, it’s skeleton was revealed around the sunken ceiling and it seemed the floor was ready to give at the slightest weight. This place was hardly an ideal haven, but it would do for momentary relief.
While exploring the ruined church further, you happened upon a confession room. Perfect. Anyone would probably guess that’s where you’d be hiding, which gave you opportunity for the first attack as you anticipated them behind the doorway, they’ll pull it open and you’ll throw the candlestick right at their head. Enough time to stun them and run the hell out of there. So, you waiting to enact your plan.
The footsteps you heard were different than what you expected. They were heavy, deliberate. They came in waves of tips and taps, yet had a soft vibration to them like the hiss of a rattlesnake. This couldn’t be a group of rowdy men. No, this was one person. Your mind was heavy with confusion as you gripped the candlestick tighter and tried to silence your shaking breath with your free hand.
The sound was slowly approaching the doors of the confessional at a torturous pace. You couldn’t help the small tear than rolled down your cheek when you heard the door of the opposite end open. The weight of whoever was in the room next to you creaked the floorboards as they suddenly stopped their movement. Somehow, the silence was even more deafening.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” a low, deep voice purred from the other end of the screen. Stunned, you let out a small whimper. What the hell? What was this, some sort of joke? You had no clue what to say, yet the man continued, “I’d say it’s been…hmm…about two hundred years since my last confession.”
You weren’t sure what to make of this man or his words, but out of sheer curiosity, you decided to play into his game. Pulling up a chair from the corner of the room, you sit and reply in a shaky breath, “Okay… What have you done?”
He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. You could hear him reposition himself by the sound of fabric against fabric and moving metal, “Well, where do I begin? Think it’d be better to confess to what I’m about to do.”
His words made you laugh, it was a completely unconscious cry that had never escape your lips before. The man across from you seemed to have found it entertaining, however, as he returned a laugh of his own. Maybe he could notice the way your vocal chords undulated into a pathetic whine with the sound. They kept your throat tight as you replied, “What is it? That you’re about to do?”
Then, a feeling you couldn’t shake dug into you like claws to flesh. It was intense, like you were being watch from someone right behind you. Your vision became fuzzy, a nauseating sensation in your torso as you suddenly burst into a feverish sweat. He speaks, the sound of his voice an echo in your head.
“I’m about to take a pretty little human, a sweet little thing, cute as doll. Ain’t no more fragile than one neither,” something tightens around your thighs and your mind loses control of your body, a loud whine escaping your mouth. When he continues, his voice is a gruff whisper in your ear that has you gapping at the mouth, “I’m gonna take you, and use you til there ain’t nothing left but pieces.”
His words are punctuated with a beastly growl as you’re taken out of your previously hypnotic state, shaking and gasping for air. You rise to your feet as soon as you’re able to compose yourself and quickly run from the room, heading towards the church doors. You don’t make it very far, though, as something catches onto your feet and has you pinned to the floor. Heels dig into your back, eliciting a stream of tears as you try to comfort yourself by coving your face with your arms while you sob into the floor.
“C’mon now, buttercup,” the voice soothes as the man behind it continues to dig his heels into you, “if you’re gonna be cryin’ now, there won’t be anything left for later.”
He lifts his weight off of you, but you can’t bring yourself to move. To get up, to look at him, even. The thought alone makes you weak. Unfortunately, that only makes it easier for him to lift you in his arms and force you to turn to him.
The sight bring back a struggle you thought had been gone. This man, this creature, this demon was scaled and menacing. His eyes seemed to burn bright with a visage of hell, you could hardly even look into them for more than a second. You struggled, kicked, fought however you could but every little movement seemed only to delight him more, “Don’t pretend you don’t want this, pumpkin.”
You squirm under him, tilting up to face him, trying to avoid his monstrous horns and fiery eyes. Trying to bargain for mercy, you whimper out a silent, “Please.”
He lifts you higher, so you’re meeting his eye-line as he holds your head to keep looking at him, “Your body is just beggin’ to be fucked, you know that?” He hold you impossibly closer to him as he hovered his face just over yours, claws beginning to mark your flushed cheeks, “I smelled you from miles away, you’re like a bitch in heat. Far as I’m concerned, I’m doin’ you a favor.”
All hold he has on you is lost as he drops you onto the floor, the sudden fall stunning you. He seems to be savoring the sight of you, staring down for what seems like an eternity before gripping a bundle of your hair, “Now, feed me.”
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