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Dead Dove Do Not Eat
Thinking of how different combinations of them would be as kidnappersš«£ here are some off the top of my head
I think the safest option by far is PriceGaz. Theyāve both got a lot of control over themselves. They keep each other in check too. Youāve got full reign of the house, hell of the property. Theyāve been plannin to snatch someone up for a long time. Been watching you for a long time too. Theyād have both met you individually before taking you. They thought of all the logistics and back up plans and swooped you away to basically the middle of the woods. They own acres and acres of land and thereās no way you could clear the property before one of them found you. You could honestly live a long life with them. They have no desire to hurt you needlessly. Theyād prefer if you just behaved. They just want to keep you. Company, someone extra to warm the bed. Donāt be fooled though, you fuck up bad enough (thinking maybe you try to hurt Kyle, specifically) and Price is coming down on you like the hand of god. Kyle will be there to coddle you when itās over. When Price drags you to him and holds you by the hair so you have to look up at Kyleās eyes and apologize. āFuckin say it.ā āIām-māsor-sorry, Kyle. Iām so-so so sorry, Iām sorryā āaw babes, learned your lesson, huh? Had to learn the hard way? We just want whatās best fāyou. Cāmere. Cāmon, I forgive you. I forgive you this time love.ā
Thinking GhostGaz are probably the second best case scenario . Theyāre calculated. Not going to be sloppy with you. Theyāve got a house, pretty secluded. One of them is with you at all times. You strongly favor Kyle. Simon is usually wearing that scary mask. Or worse, sometimes he shows you his face. The first time he did you just screamed and screamed. Normally mightāve been worried about hiring this feeling or upsetting him, but with that horrid smile on his face if you can call it a smile, you think he rather enjoyed it. Kyle wanted someone sweet to dote on. Simon wanted a toy. Donāt worry though, Kyle wonāt let him break you. You canāt tell if Kyle is good at talking him down, or if Simon is good at pretending to be talked down. Simon loves nothing more than taunting you. Stalking over to you as you shake in the corner, getting right in your face. āBet ya wish it was just you and the pretty boy, huh. Iām not good enough for you, sweetheart?ā āSimon, cāmon, leave em be.ā āāJusā askin a question, nothin wrong with that, is there, luv? Cāmon, letās talk.ā
Ghoap is the worst. Good fucking luck. Really anything with Soap is tough. They are messy and volatile and grabby. There are no boundaries on either of them. No Gaz or Price to pump the breaks? Oh youāre so screwed. They donāt want a companion, they want a pet. They are actively doing to try to break you. There have been others before you and, if you donāt last, there will be more after. You had never seen either of them until Soap started chatting you up in a bar. His smile showed too many teeth. He made you feel so vulnerable that you tried to leave, only to be caught by Ghost grabbing you and holding a knife to your neck on your way home. You stay in their basement. The only light coming from two small windows too high for you to reach and a hanging lightbulb they only leave on when theyāre there. Ghost likes to taunt you. To scare you. Stand over you and manhandle you roughly. Soap just likes to touch you. He wants to hold you and cuddle you and grope and bite you as often as he can. Lick you and kiss you and pet you. You only eat if youāve been good. They both like to feed you from their hands like giving treats to a dog. They dare you to bite them. Theyāll bite back harder. They like to remind you that theyāve won. They won a fight you never had a chance in. āIt was so fuckinā easy to snatch yāup, yāknow thaā? Barely even put up a fight. Like yāknew it wouldnāt matter.ā āStill offended ye even needed Ghost ta go get ya. Wot? I wasnae good enough on me own? Hurts me feelings, pet.ā āMaybe we should have it make it up to you again.ā
Hereās a short little fear piece I wrote. Inspired (very loosely) by the movie Hush
CW: immense fear, blood, knives, Ghost is literally trying to kill you
This contains dark content! I am not responsible for your media consumption! Reader discretion is advised!
1.3k words
You donāt so much as round the corner as you crash, hips first into the metal garbage bins against the far wall trying to dip off the street and out of view as quickly as possible. You fall and a broken groan is punched from your throat as something hard and unyielding jabs you in the ribs. Your hands hit the ground in an attempt to catch yourself and they land in something thatās wet and smushes underneath your weight. A sour pungent odor blooms beneath your nose, burning your nostrils and you instinctively cringe away from it.
You donāt have time to check your injuries, though youāre sure youāre bleeding from at least one knee as you hastily pick yourself up out of the garbage and leap back into a sprint.
He rounds the corner just as you get to your feet. Heās tall, the street post behind him casting an ever lengthening shadow over you as he closes the gap. You sob and sniffle as you try to put as much distance between you and him as possible. You want so desperately to look back and see if heās gaining but itās a luxury you canāt afford; chances are youāll just fall again and then the knife heād used to slash your back with will sink its steely edge into your throat or your heart or your liver and then itās over.
So you donāt look back, just scramble down the alley as the pounding of your heart and the soles of your shoes echo off the dense brick walls and berates your ears with their deafening boom. You stumble and nearly trip over your own feet scurrying away from him. The alley narrows and you pray to whatever deity will answer that this isnāt a dead end because if it is youāre fucked.
Your back stings, the tacky blood sticks your shirt to your skin and it pulls at the lips of your wound with every pump of your arms. Your left hip throbs and your lungs are burning, youāre worried youāre very quickly running out of gas. You wonāt be able to keep this up much longer and now you fear youāre only prolonging the inevitable.
Your sneakers splash in a deep puddle, splattering foul water up on your shins but you hardly notice as you bang, face first, into a chain link fence that caps the end of the alley. On the other side is another lamp post and you dare a look over your shoulder to see heās only about forty feet back.
You have no options, itās climb or die so you mount the chain, fingers pushed through the links as you scramble up the side. The top seems impossibly high and you anticipate the arresting grip of his iron paws at every second. You get a leg up over the top and throw your body weight over the side, toppling over the edge and falling onto the pavement on the other side, thereās a curt wheeze as the air is punched from your lungs at the end of the drop.
You pick yourself up quickly and nearly fall again as you stumble back from the thin chain barrier separating you from him. Itās nothing but open street behind you and the ancient primal part of your brain is screaming at you to keep going but all youāve done is run and heās just kept coming. So you gather the last of your nerve in a desperate bid to appeal to whatever human compassion may still reside in the monster thatās been chasing you down like a sadistic beast for the last eight blocks.
You swallow harshly and it catches in your windpipe, making your first attempt sound like choked garbles.
āPlease!!!ā You swallow again but your mouth is dry and nothing goes down, not that the tight ball of fear that had become your stomach would accept anything even if it did. Tears cut wet paths through the oily sheen of sweat that had permeated your skin as they flowed freely down your face.
You force your gaze from the darkly gleaming street to the figure standing ominously in the shadows, just out of reach of the light. Like if he stepped into it too quickly itād burn him like flame. Your breath hitches as he moves, stepping out of the pregnant darkness, polluting the light.
Itās your first good look at him and the glimpse of white mask youād seen earlier turns out to be a stark white skull. Dark brown orbs peer out at you emotionlessly from the eye holes. Heās abnormally large, the breadth of his shoulders nearly scraping either side of the alley walls. The chain link fence creaks and bows with his weight as he leans forward onto it, resting his forearms just above his head.
Thereās a bright golden flash as something metallic catches the arc sodium light and it glints cheekily back at you. Youāve felt its bite and now you get to observe its shape. A wicked downward sweep, reminiscent of a tiger's claw, with a pinprick point juts from one meaty fist. Itās hollow grind is still dripping with your lifeās blood, the deep red of crushed cherries.
You try again and find it easier the second time around, though your pitch still fluctuates erratically. āPlease!! Please, just go!!! Iāā Your hands tremble and you force them to your sides to steady your nerves, try to alleviate the shake in your voice. I h-havenāt seen your face. I wonāt say anything!! Wonāt even call the police I swear!! Please!!! Just go!!ā
Heās eerily silent and you think for a moment that maybe he hadnāt heard or perhaps didnāt speak the same language as you. His head slowly lolls to one side, cocking at a near forty five degree angle and something about it makes your blood chill.
Youāre paralyzed with terror as the hand not gripping the knife pulls away from the fence and bunches the fabric around the base of his throat in his fist before slowly but seamlessly peels it back from his face and pulls it over his head.
Youāre left with the image of a dead pale face, marred by pale pink and crisscrossing scars. Thereās a deep one cut through the plump skin of his lips, beginning just under one nostril and ending in the dip of his chin. Thereās another bisecting one thick chiseled eyebrow. His nose is crooked, probably broken more times than heād kept count. His jawline is strong and supported aptly by an impossibly thick neck. Wispy, arrant strands of hair gleam in the golden light, amplifying their natural blonde hue.
Despite his flaws, if it had been under any other circumstances youād find him almost devastatingly attractive. But currently instead of devilishly handsome you only found him to be devilish and so held him with disgust and an inordinate heap of terror.
āRun.ā Itās the first time youād heard him speak and itās almost too low for you to hear. The deep rumble of rolling thunder sounding over the horizon, a warning from a far distance.
āW-what?ā His mouth twists into an ugly scowl, brow furrowing, nostrils flaring as he repeats himself, getting louder with each word, like a train whistle gathering steam.
āI said RUN!!ā The last word he bellows, a roar that jumpstarts your legs and sends them into overdrive as you stumble back from the fence like his voice carried a physical blow. The chain link rattles violently under the force of his fist as he smashes it against the gate in unbridled rage. You turn on your heel and bolt for the mouth of the street, veering right and running blind as you pray you can escape his clutches on the second try, your life depended on it.
āyāwanna know what stupid looks like?ā he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. āyou, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.ā
based off a request i got - tispy simon riley x drunk reader. simon is a man of morals, even when you make it very very hard for him to exercise them. 18+. lots of detailed dirty talk.
find part two here.
āāāā-
itās honestly not even your fault.
youāll blame it all on soap, if anyone asks - heās the one who had a tab open, a devil on his shoulder, and kept pouring shots as if they were free. now youāre blackout-adjacent, stumbling through the hallway with simonās arm wrapped around your waist in some makeshift tourniquet while everything spins like a goddamn carousel.
simon always gets stuck on clean-up crew. mostly because heās the only one who can handle their fuckin liquor.
needless to say, heās used to this by now. used to the way youāve been rambling on about nothing for the better part of five minutes - doesnāt say much when you stop and get distracted by something stupid for the billionth time. doesnāt complain when you grab his arm and lean a little too hard into his side, as if heās a lifeline in the sea that is the floor beneath your feet.
heās tipsy, sure, but somehow still annoyingly steady. classic simon.
ājesussiāyouāre big.ā itās slurred and breathless, broken by your own laughter as your head drops lazily onto his shoulder. ālike, industrial grade. military-issued big.ā
the corner of his mouth tilts. if you were sober youād see the smirk heās biting back.
ātha right?ā
āmmm. like a fuckin tank,ā you hum, fingers kneading the muscle under your palm. itās involuntary - just like itās involuntary when he twitches. āor an armoured vehicle. yāshould come with airbags.ā
simon bites his cheek. the devil in you is dancing in the waves of tension rolling off him.
maybe heās not as used to this as he thought - because this isnāt just drunk-banter. this is you, murmuring compliments with all that heat behind them. personal. stupidly involuntarily honest.
hes not used to compliments. not ones that sound like that.
āyouāre drunk,ā he breathes.
you grin. āsoāre you.ā
ānot even half as much as you.ā
you let out a giddy little laugh that makes him glance down, at that. itās quick and brief, the way his eyes flick over you, like heās checking to make sure you havenāt stripped mid-hallway. itās just the bickering that gets you. makes you warm inside.
āmānot that drunk,ā you lie through your teeth with all the drunken confidence you possess. āi meanāi am, but not likeā¦memory loss drunk. iām still gonna remember how wide your shoulders are tomorrow.ā
itās only seconds after that and your fingers are moving again, crawling down his arm to where leather edge meets skin.
ā..and how insanely big your hands are,ā you sigh in continuation, unable to help yourself. ālikeābiblically destructive. ruin-her-life-in-a-single-night kind of hands. anyone ever tell yāthat?ā
and that might just be precisely when it starts - the feeling in his gut. brought to life through the filth youāre beginning to feed.
ādonāt.ā he says, and itās torn. ānot now.ā
heās all but begging you - and however miraculously, his pace doesnāt break. still steady as ever even as you switch from squeezing to tracing his tattoos with your finger. the only response he gives is a devastating clench of his jaw as he keeps you moving - steering past flickering lights and sterile walls.
āyāever choke a girl out with them?ā you press, unfettered. ānot like, unconscious, but like. in bed?ā
he exhales. slow. almost a growl.
ājesus. stop talkinā.ā
āwhy?ā you blink up at him, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, far too innocent for someone whoās very much not being innocent. āam i makinā you nervouuus?ā
his head tilts just slightly, just enough to peer down at you again.
āno,ā he says, and even drunk you hear the grit in it. āyouāre makinā me hard.ā
he says it like he hates himself for it. like it slipped out - cut from the meat of some deep place the inebriation in his veins simply wonāt let him keep inside.
and you?
you blink slow, lips parting in surprise.
āfuckinā finally.ā you exhale with a smile. slow and crooked and dangerous. āthought iād have to be on my knees and naked for you to admit thatāā
he doesnāt let you finish that thought.
āfuckās sake, yālittle minx.ā heās dragging you now, as if heās realizing the dangers that are surfacing the more this conversation continues. by this point heās half-carrying, half-hauling your giggling form down the hall like you weigh nothing. āyāneed to stop talkin.ā
āyou like it,ā you slur between unsteady steps. āyālike me like this cause youāre a freakkkāā
his grip tightens. morals in tatters. control evaporating.
āiād like you more if yāwere unconscious.ā he huffs, hard. āor duct-taped.ā
that makes you giggle more. worse, it eggs you on.
āwas that supposed tābe a threat?ā you ask, lips glistening. ācause if so, itās workingggg.ā
he grunts - some deep, violent sound in his throat like that one hit a nerve. ābloody hell.ā
by the time you make it to your door, heās breathing heavy. less from exertion and more from sheer fucking restraint. it takes two seconds before he throws the hinges wide, kicks it shut with his boot, and all but drags you onto your bed.
and you hardly even realize youāve reached it until the cotton caresses the side of your cheek. but that feeling is quickly forgotten when simon, the gentleman that he is, leans over you - one knee braced on the mattress as his hands go to work on the laces of your boots.
your thighs tense. he notices.
āfuck, simon.ā you canāt stop yourself. not even god himself could, at this point. āiāve been into you for ages, yāknow.ā
he pauses. boot in hand.
āā¦what?ā
he says it low. like a warning - like a donāt you fuckin start. but youāre too drunk to care - especially when all you smell is him and all you see are those shoulders, leaning over you while youāre flat on your back beneath him.
your lashes flutter.
ājus sayin- since, like. youāre in my room, on my bed above me like one of my codeine fever dreams.ā you slur, brain sloshing. the room spins with it. āthought yāshould know.ā
he looks at you like youāve hit him with a brick.
your head lolls. glassy eyes dragging up over the length of him. āused to think about itāyouāwhen i couldnāt sleep.ā
he swallows, and you watch his throat work with it. the grip heās got on your ankle could shatter bone.
āā¦.you tellin me yāthink bout me when yātouch yourself?ā he asks.
āgod yes.ā you donāt even realize youāve said it. āyou. your hands. bending me over the sinks. in the showers while muttering filth in my ear, tellin me to behaveāā
āāfuck.ā it punches out of him like it hurts.
the silence falls heavy. he doesnāt blink, breathe, or move for what feels like forty minutes, when in reality, itās like forty seconds - just long enough for him clamp the leash back on whatever beast is tearing through him.
not fully, but enough.
you stretch like a cat, oblivious to it. arch your back. sigh. ādāyou think about it?ā
he doesnāt answer. not at first. thenā
āonly when i breathe.ā
your stomach lurches. your thighs twitch. āyou mean that?ā
he looks at you, finally - eyes darker than the devils deal, filled with filth and heat from the fire you started without even trying.
he shakes his head, his jaw clenches with the effort of keeping the beast at bay. āi mean, if you donāt stop talkin, māgonna fuckinā fold.ā
the alcohol in your blood just roars, at that. fuel to the flaming fire inside you.
ātell me.ā you murmur. āyou think about fucking me? what iād sound like moaning yourāā
before you can finish that thought, his hand is over your mouth. it swallows your face, makes you twitch in all the wrong places ā and he sees it.
āenough.ā itās barely a whisper. āchrist. fuck. youāre gonna make me do somethinā stupid.ā
you moan against his hand - it spills out of you, vibrates against his fingers. he curses.
āyāwanna know what stupid looks like?ā he mutters, head dropping down until his lips near your jaw. āyou, wakin up with my fuckin dog tags round your neck and nothin else.ā
his palm silences everything but your pulse, which is roaring, at this point.
your fingers come up, shift a few of his digits until your voice finds room to leak out. āplease.ā
his eyes snap shut.
āyādont know what youāre askin for, sweetāeart,ā he mutters, grabbing the edge of the blanket with his free hand and yanking it over your hips. āaināt gonna wake up with you hatin me.ā
even drunk you realize heās a man of morals.
āyou think iād regret it?ā you whisper. stars in your eyes. he doesnāt respond. āsimon. i just told you iāve fantasized about fucking you. i wonder how big you are, if itād hurtāā
his palm tightens over your lips again.
āone more fuckinā word and iāll forget every goddamn reason why i shouldnāt touch you right now.ā he spits. āif yāeven remember this tomorrow, yācome say it to me sober. promise on every grave iāve ever stood over iāll bend yāover on the spot and fuck the idea of regret right outta you.ā
then he pulls back, moving slow like it hurts, and you smile.
āguess iāll see you tomorrow.ā
āmhm.ā he hums, take a step or two toward the door. āfuckin hope you will.ā
Sorry but running through the woods barefoot and covered in blood (some yours, some theirs) while they run after you, boots hitting the ground so hard the sound thunders in your ears, your chest heaving so hard that blood speckles your tongue and bile rises in your throat while they scream after you how theyāll fucking kill you and gut you like bitch you are is so romantic :)
Sorry but forced pleasure isā¦top tier. Johnny holding you down with a bruising hold, his grabby hands kneading at the soft plush of your body. While Simon is perched between your wriggling legs holding a vibrator to you, all swollen and messy. They of course pay no mind to your pitiful begging and pleading. They ignored it when they swept you off your feet and brought you āhomeā, why would they humor you now?
Floor of the mactavish house is covered in toys and the fridge has about 8 layers of art projects stuck to it and thereās a wall sign in the kitchen with a pasta sauce stain on it that says āclean enough to be a healthy home, messy enough to be a happy homeā
And yes Priceās divorced ass hates having to visit
Meanie!Simon who almost always has to stuff you full with his dick. So full you canāt even think straight, thighs are shaking, and if youād press your stomach heād be right there, a hiccup of, ā ās too much!ā
His reply?
A soft pat on your cheek, while he grabs a steady hold of your ankles above his head, this is what seems to be his version of āencouragementā and then, almost like heās informing you of the situationā a nod,
āYouāre good, yer gonna take my cock luvie. Not much of a fuckin option.ā
And then gives you the most brutal, borderline cynical yet, enthralling thrusts of his life, in and out of your poor sticky cunt that just manages go take everything Simonās giving you. Thrusts that had you seeing stars and traveling to Venus, youād cum on his dick twice while drool pooled from the corner to the pillow your head rested in, and thereās a snide chuckle, a kiss to the forehead. Tsking,
āSee? Can take Daddys dick just fine. You always think too fuckin much when Dad knows best sweeāart.ā
cw: slasher horror, period sex, non con, vague gore
you clasped both of your hands over your mouth to try and silence the heavy panting, fingers digging into your cheeks; only letting one drop when you felt your friend, faith, grip onto your shirt. you linked your hands together over your hip, both sweaty and covered in blood and dirt, but it didnāt stop either of you from holding on tight.
you heard her whimper and darted your eyes to her in silent horror.
she had clenched hers closed so there was no way to tell her to stay as quiet as possible with your desperate wide-eyed look. you werenāt risking speaking to calm her or even giving a gentle shush.
heād found the others for less. if you had to youād cover her mouth like you were your own, shaking hands or not.
as you shifted where you crouched, you could feel the uncomfortable stick of blood between your thighs. of all the times to be on your period. youād bled through your pad a while back and paranoia had you feeling like you were leaving a trail behind you for him to follow even though you knew it wasnāt true, not even if you were at your heaviest. it was more likely heād just be able to sniff you out like a shark.
regardless of blood or noise being your downfall, you werenāt feeling so lucky that youād be able to get away if he did find you; from the lack of screams in the forest, it had seemed that the attacker had already caught the rest of your friends so thereād be no distractions to give you a head start.
bile rose in the back of your throat as tears dripped down to the tight seal of the hand still clamped tight and harsh over your mouth. you couldnāt think about the others right now, the state youād seen some of them in, the sounds youād heard.
you let out a slow, shaky breath through your nose and squeezed faithās hand. there had been no noises after sheād initially whimpered; not from her or the forest.
the silence had you uneasy. it felt like he was close.
crouched as you both were behind the large, old fallen tree trunk, you wouldnāt have the best start to run for it if needed. you swallowed and tried to listen for any footsteps but there was nothing.
you frowned. you should be hearing something at least; the cicadas, or the owls or foxes, not just nothing. your heart dropped to your stomach and you scoured the forest from your point of view with darting eyes. you tugged faith to get her attention and nodded your head forward, towards the light in the distance, when she looked at you.
we need to run, you tried to convey. she understood going by the renewed flood of tears and tired slump of her shoulders. she shook her head defeatedly and you tensed waiting for her to make a noise and reveal your spot to the predator you knew was lurking in the shadows.
you squeezed her hand and nodded back firmly. this wasnāt going to be a debate, you didnāt have time and this was your best shot for survival. removing your other hand from your mouth you tried to smile at her reassuringly and wipe away her tears as she clung to your hand with both of her own. after a moment she relented and with a loud sniffle that had you jerking to look over her shoulder you both clumsily pushed up from the rustling leaves and started to run on weak legs.
ācome on, come on, keep going,ā you whispered desperately, breathlessly, as you dragged her along with you. heād have already spotted you, there was no point staying silent now and faith needed all the encouragement she could get. sheād twisted her ankle and although youād done your best to wrap it, it had made her significantly slower. āthe cabin is this way. the carā if we can get to the car...ā
you looked back over your shoulder as you ran, paranoid and ignoring ever horror movie rule you could remember, and choked on a wet gasp when you saw him.
heād lost the hammer heād arrived with, smashed ginaās head in with; the axe heād taken from the cabin you and your friends were staying at and used to hack jason to pieces; the bear trap youād watched him drag scott away with; but that didnāt make his presence any less frightening.
faith heaved loudly, sobbing hard, as you tried to pull her along faster, faster.
but her ankle gave way and her hand slipped from yours as you automatically kept running.
āno, wait, wait! please, no, please,ā she cried and begged as you slowed and turned back to her. he was barely twenty paces from her now, if you went back youād both beā
and the cabin was just there, you could see it, you could see the lights and the car parked next to the back shed. the keys were in your back pocket.
you skidded to a stop at the shed and opened the door, pulling out the first garden tool you could get a hold of - a shovel - and looked back at the sound of her scream getting cut off.
the light was dim with how far they were from the cabinās porch light, the trees were not too tightly packed however that you saw how he knelt over her, strangling her as she kicked and clawed at him uselessly.
it would be a slow enough death that you could still get to the car without him catching you and try to drive on the shredded tire, even with the delay, but instead you ran back towards your friend.
you heard her gasping gurgles as you got closer and let out a guttural cry as you swung the shovel at the man. the monster.
his hands let go of faith and caught the metal edge with a wince and a huffed groan before it could hit his head. you heard faith suck in a gasping breath before choking on the sudden airflow and build up of saliva in her mouth.
he stood, still holding the end as you struggled to pull it back, and you saw where the edge had cut into his palms from the blow you almost landed. human after all, you almost laughed deliriously at the realisation. it only encouraged you to keep fighting back.
you tried again to pull it from him and he snarled, holding tight as you yanked and yanked until he finally let it go just as you put the last of your strength into it. the momentum caused it to reel back and you smacked yourself in the face with the handle. you stumbled to the ground with a cry, the shovel dropped and forgotten as you tried to catch yourself on the cold ground. your cheek throbbed, already beginning to swell, and a sharp ache echoed in your teeth where the handle had landed.
faith hadnāt stopped crying once she had her breath back, stuck laid prone between his feet, but when she started whimpering pleas you tearily looked up to see him lifting the shovel back up and spinning it so he had hold of the wooden end instead of the flat, metal spade. he raised his arms over his head, the shovel parallel with his body, and slammed it down, cutting off faithās begging with a sick, slick crunch. you barely had time to look away before her blood spattered your temple and cheek.
you shuddered, your breath coming in short and thin.
āf-faith, faith,ā you mumbled. you could see her, what heād done to her, in your peripheral and it had you frozen. āoh god.ā
he stepped over her, into the puddle of blood spreading ever closer to you, and crouched in front of you so you couldnāt see her.
āthat was brave,ā he said surprisingly softly, looking at you with inquisitive eyes. he gently tilted your face closer to his own and he smiled when you shut your eyes tight, your lips pressed closed thinly to hold back your scared sounds. āyouāre more interesting than iād thought. not so cowardly after all, eh?ā
you didnāt answer as his palm drifted over to your plump cheek. it left for a moment but you didnāt dare move; his palm had been warm and the brief interlude before coming back left your skin cold in his wake. his fingertips were wet as he traced them along your cheek, dragging in the crude shape of a heart.
you opened your eyes as his hand pulled back again and saw his fingers covered in blood. faithās blood.
your shoulders heaved with a gag and a sob while your stomach clenched as it tried to upheave your lunch for the nth time that evening.
he laughed as he watched you hunch over your knees dry heaving and stood to his full, looming height.
āiām going to give you a chance, little lamb,ā he offered plainly. āget running, letās see if i catch you.ā
you could tell by his grin this wasnāt going to be fair by any means, that this āchanceā was really just an extra layer of sociopathic fun for him. the hunt isnāt fun if your rabbit just lays down to die, the chase brings excitement.
you were tempted to say no, but you were well aware he could still manage to drag this out, painfully so if he wished; you could still hear faithās chokes echoing. shakily you got to your feet and waited for him to indicate you could go, tempted almost to ask how much of a head-start heād give or to try and dive for the shovel again.
āgood girl. off you pop,ā he said dismissively, and waved his hand as if shooing you away.
you scowled back, pissed that you were not only about to be murdered, but that itād be done by a condescending prick, just to rub salt into the wound.
his smile widened and you knew your disgust was written clear as day across your face. you didnāt dawdle any further though, and instead turned on your heel to run towards the car not twenty five feet away.
you didnāt look back as you tried to pick up the pace, unsure on how long heād give you your head-start, though maybe you should have if only to brace for the impact as he slammed into your from behind. he dragged you to the floor and pressed you flat even as you struggled wildly.
āget off me! get off!ā you screamed, blubbering.
he grabbed your head and slammed it once into the ground, dizzying you and making your movements sluggish. your nose ached furiously and fresh tears sprang to your eyes.
he leant up and shuffled so he was knelt just behind your arse, keeping your legs pinned tightly together. you thought you could see lena in the distance from where you were laid, where heād impaled her next to the fire pit.
you wanted to turn your head away but you didnāt have the strength and he kept one hand pressed between your shoulder blades while the other rested at your waistband.
āyou on the rag, love? bled through a tad,ā he snickered as he caught sight of the stain leaking through your jeans. you felt embarrassment wash over you and hated him all the more for it. why couldnāt he make it quick like he had with the others? or had he spoken to and taunted them the same? āletās get a better look, shall we?ā
he tugged at your jeans, letting go of your back to use both hands to pull at the sides until the button and zip gave way at the front beneath his ministrations.
realisation as to the intention of his actions came over you slowly, your imminent death clouding your thoughts until suddenly your arse was bare and his fingertips were running between your bloody lips.
āstop, what are youā?ā you reared up to try and shake him off, but he pushed you face first back into the dirt. at least now you were facing away from lena.
āi just want to know if this pussy is more of a crybaby than you are,ā he sneered into your ear before pushing two fingers inside. the blood helped slick his way, but you yelped regardless, feet kicking uselessly behind him. he set a rough rhythm and pulled more surprised cries from your throat.
āplease,ā you begged wetly, snot running from your nose and causing dirt to cling to your face alongside the tears. ājust stopāā
ābleats like a lamb too,ā he laughed. āthe gift that keeps on giving, arenāt ya?ā
he pulled his hand free and shifted your shirt up to your shoulders. using his slick fingers he drew on your back, another bloody heart. he snorted at the sight of it.
āyou and i are about to have some real fun, love,ā he promised. at the sound of a belt unbuckling you clenched your eyes shut.
Thereās nothing the 141 boys love more than a fat pussy. Like Iām talking no thigh gap, thick thighs, cushioning and hiding your pussy away nice and snug until they open your legs to eat you up. Theyāll thank you for keeping their meal warm too.
Better yet if theyāre fucking you. Holding your legs together and pushing your knees to your chest so they can watch your juicy pussy take them nice and deep.
They love when you wear bikinis, tight little shorts, anything that frames your pussy nice and pretty when you bend over.
Pussy jobs 100 percent. They love slotting their thick cocks between your puffy pussy folds and watching how cute it looks getting teased.
You bet they have cheeky little polaroids of you bending over with a cute shy expression on your face showing off your pussy. And donāt be surprised if they share them with the rest of the team š«£
dad!simon when his oldest daughter is rambling about some celebrity to you. heās sat at the kitchen table with a cigarette, scrolling through the 141 groupchat that heās already left 4 times but someone always adds him back.
āi just think that twenty-four years isnāt a bad age gap.ā he looked at her over that, chin tilted down toward his phone but eyes up. sigh.
ālike tom hardy, how old is tom hardy?ā
āforty-seven says google.ā the middle child sat down on the sofa, eyes glued to her phone. āheās good looking though.ā
āheās the same age as your dad.ā you looked at your two kids, then your husband who blinked.
Sorry but forced pleasure isā¦top tier. Johnny holding you down with a bruising hold, his grabby hands kneading at the soft plush of your body. While Simon is perched between your wriggling legs holding a vibrator to you, all swollen and messy. They of course pay no mind to your pitiful begging and pleading. They ignored it when they swept you off your feet and brought you āhomeā, why would they humor you now?
