MISERERE NOBIS | demon!ghost x female streamer reader
Part One: spiritus malus
Series | AO3 | Tips | Part Two
It takes a ghost hunt gone wrong to realize that maybe your boyfriend is no longer the man you started dating and it might be time to break up. Good thing he's offered you up to a demon who is more than happy to solve your dating problems.
CW: mdni, dd:dne, dubcon/noncon, smut/monsterfucking, descriptions of violence/gore, mentions of satanic rituals/ bastardization of prayers, unintentional infidelity - complete warnings and tags
"Babes, you know how the fans love when you wear this shit."
You're frowning, it's hard not to when the pile of clothes your boyfriend is holding out to you is beyond embarrassing. Sure, you had a brand, an aesthetic that people expected of you. But that was for the comfort of your home, that little oasis you have built for yourself. Fairy lights, a cozy gaming chair, art from your favorite artists on the walls, the desktop set up with the carefully planned out keyboard, and the plushies and the figurines. All things soft and squishy and plush.
A bit like you.
In the comfort of your space you were safe to wear the tiny skirts and the plush thigh high socks, funky tights, knitted sweaters with the matching beanies with floppy ears, fingerless gloves so your hands didn't get too cold. It was a persona that you felt safe slipping into for streaming because you were protected and comfy and you weren't traipsing through a filthy rundown factory in the freezing cold.
"Jake, please don't make me wear that," you're whining and you hate it, but the way your boyfriend's crew leers at you from where they are setting up tells you everything you need to know about how this evening is going to go.
It wasn't the first time you had been dragged to a filming of Phear Philes, the ghost hunting show that your boyfriend had started with a group of his other content creator friends. It had started off as a joke, the three of them spending a night in an allegedly haunted building trying to debunk the presence of ghosts. It had been an unexpected success, with commenters dissecting every frame of the video looking for things that may or may not have existed.
So what started as a joke, a throwaway video for the channel became Jake's new obsession. The apartment you shared had already been packed full of video and audio equipment but now it was full to bursting with ghost hunting gear. You knew more about the alleged science behind the Ovilus than you knew about the mechanics of the series you were currently doing a play through of. There wasn't any space in your head for anything else when day and night Jake was either talking about ghost hunting or watching videos about ghost hunting. And if you got him started on the marketing behind it?
Jake pulled you away from the crew, his touch light but demanding. You remembered when he used to give you butterflies, cupping your face in his hands, whispering endearing things about your streams, about the way you looked (on and off camera), but now you had to fight for attention, for consideration.
It all felt very contrived at this point, you were just another tool in his bag of tricks.
"Is it because of what Liam said?" he kept his voice low as he asked. It wasn't out of any consideration to you, Liam was the other big star of Phear Philes. Stupidly handsome in that cookie cutter plastic way with a chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, blue eyes and perfectly coiffed hair. On screen he was a sweetheart, easy to spook and a goldmine for viral clips. Off screen he was catty, rude and fatphobic.
"Of course not, I just don't want to wear it."
You were pouting and it made you feel all the more childish. That's how Jake's crew always made you feel. They thought cozy lets plays were childish, girly, unimportant. You could never complain about your own work around them without risking one or all of them talking down to you about it. Even though you knew just as much about computers and video games as the rest of them. When you met Jake it was you who taught him about mixers and stream decks and what microphones to use.
None of that mattered though because you were just using all of that big fancy equipment to play a farming simulator with pretty graphics and cute animals.
"Just do this for me, last time, pinky promise."
With a sigh you took the pile of clothes and stomped off to the privacy of the rented sprinter van to change.
You had met Jake at a content creator networking event. You already had a pretty big following, but you were looking for ways to be more intentional about your brand so you signed up for one of the marketing panels. Jake had been a panelist, an expert from some big consultancy, he was naturally charming and passionate about his work. He talked about how he was starting his own channel and the struggles of being a new creator and what tried and true methods he was using himself to make a splash.
You hadn't planned to talk to him after, everyone had flocked to him with questions about their own channels asking about increasing viewers, increasing engagement, was he single. You were shocked by how forward some of the people were. He was just some guy, an attractive and intelligent guy, which seemed to be everyone's type.
In the end, it was a meet cute out of a movie, stuck together in an elevator of all places, Jake consoling and distracting you when the lights shut off, only the flickering red emergency light illuminated the tiny elevator. In your panic you hadn't even realized it was him in the elevator with you until he was talking you through breathing exercises, his voice familiar and soothing.
You thought the whole thing was incredibly romantic. Jake didn't think you were a bother as you clung to him as the firefighters helped the two of you through the door. He had treated you to tea and a scone, saying a sweet treat always made him feel better.
He didn't ask for your number then, later he would tell you he didn't want to seem like an asshole taking advantage of you when you were stressed and shaken up. You thought it was sweet when he messaged you to make sure you were okay. It wasn't long until you were meeting up for coffee, then dinner, then weekends spent at each other's places and then you were living together.
It was so good in the beginning, and the middle, but sometimes, like right now, it feels like you were at the end. When he looks at you so expectantly, waiting for you to acquiesce to another one of his requests. It's no longer a compromise, no longer partners in life tackling challenges together.
And it feels like defeat when you leave the privacy of the van, all dressed up like a stage piece for his show.
"Awe, babe, look at you," he coos, hands squishing your face like you would a child.
You hate it, but you hate yourself more for allowing it to happen.
"Come on, we're all set to film the first part."
You were surprised when he got permission to film at this location, they were historically picky about who they let onto the property. They had dealt with vandals, teens breaking in for a place to drink, other shows coming and being disrespectful to the spirits. Real people had died here, so whether you believed in ghosts or not, this wasn't some spooky playground or haunted house.
At least, that's how you felt about it.
"Hey Phear Phanatics, we are back with another bone chilling episode of the Phear Philes. Tonight we are coming to you from a spot that is known for its dark history, where alleged satanic rituals were performed and four people lost their lives. We are here to find out once and for all if this place is more than just the location of a tragedy. We're here to find out if more than those lost souls roam these halls. We are here to phace our phears!"
One of the crew members yells cut and Jake flashes you a smile. He thought all of his stupid slogans were catchy, that the fans at home were gagging for it. And they were. The amount of boxes of merch you had helped pack was enough proof that the Phear Phanatics didn't mind the cheesy catch phrases or the dramatic reactions.
Jake pulled you over to where the cameras and stage lights were set up. He moved you into place, stepped back, studied you in the harsh light and then moved you again until he was happy with the positioning. You were more than familiar with this song and dance.
"Are you going to take off the sweatshirt?" he asks.
"It's cold," you say defensively. It's not a lie. It's cold, even with the buzzing spotlights that illuminate the admin office that Jake chose for the opening sequence. The chill in the air is heavy, oppressive, not even the sweatshirt helps. It would be worse if you took it off, the cropped, off the shoulder sweater he had chosen for the episode would offer no protection from prying eyes or the cold.
"At least it's merch," he steps back and studies you before unzipping it enough to pull down one of your shoulders so that it hangs off in a way that shows just a flash of skin. "Okay, that works."
Liam, Tyler and Omar were next. Jake placed them as well, staging was important. Tyler with the oversized shoulder camera that while used for recording was mostly for show and Omar who was always a little awkward on screen. Jake had promoted him from tech wiz to guest host when he saw how the fans reacted to any clips with him in it.
The rest of the crew was nameless to you, not for lack of trying but Jake kept a constant stream of camera workers, audio specialists, the lot of them in and out of episodes and projects you eventually gave up trying.
The next hit is set and the cameras are rolling.
"As always, I have my amazing crew along with me for this investigation."
Jake introduces them, each of them with their own little clever quips, even Omar although you are certain it's a line that Jake fed to him. The perfect pitch and hit. And then it's time for you.
"And I know you all love it when my girl joins us on an investigation, say hi honey."
When the cameras turn on you you can feel the discomfort of the spotlight like its palpable, weighing you down until you can barely breath, words stuck on your too heavy tongue. This isn't being in your room, your own faceless fans watching as you babble on about the farm you are building on screen. There isn't a space heater hidden under your desk keeping you warm, instead you are shivering in leg warmers, tights and a too short skirt.
You wave at the camera despite your discomfort, smiling like the good girlfriend you are.
"For tonight's episode we have a special treat for our fans. The crew and I have put our heads together and chose the five scariest places in the factory. Shout out to our super-fans for voting on possible sites!" Jake flashes the camera another blazing smile. "Each of those locations are this hat," he shows off the hat making sure to get the Phear Philes logo in the shot, "You already know the deal, we will each be doing a solo investigation to start the night!"
You knew how this was going to go, you had done a read through of the rough script. The intros, the b-roll that they had spent the afternoon shooting, the interviews with the groundskeeper and another investigator who had had an experience here and refused to even step foot on the property. You knew each of the locations, and the stories behind all five of them made your skin crawl. But worst of all was the incinerator room.
"And finally, the incinerator room!" Jake made a show of flashing the camera the scrap of paper with two words hastily written on it in black ink before he was crumbling the paper and adding it to the hat. "That's where the alleged satanic ritual took place."
You wish you were off screen for this.
"Okay, first up we have Omar, come get your location, buddy."
They each take a location until there are two left, one for you and one for Jake.
Jake doesn't even need to say it when he pulls yours, you know where you are going because that is just your luck.
"Incinerator!"
The other three are grinning, while Jake announces that he will be spending his solo investigation in the admin offices.
"Who is ready to get investigating!"
You go through the motions, hands in, hands up, the other four going through the macho men routines, fist pumping and psyching themselves up. You know the deal and yet you can't seem to find it in you to participate. You want to, you want to be excited the way you were the first time, tucked under Jake's arm as he led you through a haunted house. Giggling nervously as he made jokes at the expense of the ghosts, screaming at just the right moments.
His fans had eaten it up.
Now you don't feel any of that giddy excitement, the fear is real, the comfort is gone. Jake has already turned away from you, talking with a woman who holds a camera, discussing static shots that they have set up for the solo investigations. You want nothing more than to hide away in the van until this whole ordeal is over. You want—
CRASH!
You scream, hands clamping over your mouth as soon as you realize the sound is coming from you.
One of the LED lamps had fallen over despite all of the equipment being stabilized and secured. The mayhem that follows gives you a moment to slip into the background, back pressed against the faux wood paneling. Your heart is racing, you can feel it pounding against your chest, the voices of the crew fading away to nothing as you try to catch your breath.
Jake is there, he's gesturing wildly, asking questions as people try to reset the equipment. There was still footage to be filmed here, they would have to redo all the lighting checks assuming the lamp wasn't damaged in the fall.
You slip out of the office entirely.
The factory is without power, it was one of the logistical challenges of shooting in a place like this. This was also the biggest location they had tackled. When Jake left you in the incinerator you would have a walkie, a handheld and a few pieces of investigative equipment. No phones, no smart watches or anything else that could make noise or interrupt the equipment. Despite being a skeptic himself, Jake took the investigations seriously.
The hall was quiet and dark, the light from the admin room only light a few feet ahead of you before the rest of it fell to murky shadows where moonlight filtered through the windows.
Already your heart was fluttering like a bird in your chest. Your eyes strained to see more in the murky shadows, to hear anything besides the murmuring in the office you had left behind. This was the part you always hated most. Left alone in the dark with nothing but your screaming thoughts, your eyes playing tricks on you and your ears straining for any little sound. You don't want to see anything, you don't want proof that ghosts were real, that spirits were still lingering in these places. But you can't help it when your mind runs wild with it until it looks like the shadows are dancing in the dark corners, undulating and shifting over each other in some kind of sensuous dance that you can't begin to understand.
You startled when a hand grasps your shoulder, jumping around to see Jake, goofy smile on his face.
"You ready for the big show?"
When you had done your research before coming. You had watched previous investigations, looked over crime scene photos, read descriptions of the space from amateurs and investigators, but none of it could have prepared you for the incinerator room.
The admin office you had been in before had that eerie, just abandoned feel, like a time capsule, desks with coffee cups left behind, calendars with dates circle and tasks written in, snapshot from the moment right before this was all abandoned. The rest of the factory had succumbed to time. Broken glass panes and crumbling walls had let in the elements, let in animals, people. A layer of dust and grime covered everything. Spray painted graffiti decorated the walls, the machinery, any space flat enough to tag. Broken glass was scattered all around, crumbled cans from decades of people sneaking in to drink.
Then there was the incinerator room. It was cavernous, your footsteps echoing as you made your way across the open floor. There were too many dark corners, too many places for your mind to imagine monsters lurking and waiting until the crew left before slithering out. The floor was littered with industrial detritus, strips of metal, wood and paper that scattered as your group approached the behemoth that was the focal point of the investigation.
It was looming and rusted, the two metal doors were open to reveal the gaping maw of the incinerator. Before Jake chose this location you had never given much thought to what happened at a slaughterhouse, but you had looked it up. It felt almost barbaric the way the animals were killed, cut and categorized.
Then all of the refuse was sent here.
You felt ill standing beneath the behemoth of a machine that had for years had disposed of animal carcasses. Bone and blood and viscera.
Then, there was the fact that this was also where all of those people were murdered.
“Fuck man, that’s going to look great on camera,” Tyler said with a low whistle, stalking around the room with a handful of static cameras.
You didn’t care that it was going to look good on camera. As much as people sensationalized the alleged satanic ritual, the fact remained that a person had been tied down by their friends and then those friends had cut their stomach open and used their blood and intestines to create the pentagram. That part of the case was undisputed.
Then the three other people, the friends if you could call them that, had been torn apart. The carnage so extreme that investigators had never been able to determine their cause of death. All of the leaked police documents you had found shown inconclusive results for any and all tests that had been done in the aftermath. No animals, no weapons, nothing matched what had been done to those people.
It was now listed as a cold case.
You stood nervously to the side while the crew worked, trying not to think about the dark spots on the concrete floor that looked suspiciously like blood stains.
"Do you need any help, Jake?" you hated the way your voice hitched as you asked, you knew a lot of the equipment from your own work.
"Nah, babe, you know how the lads are. Gotta leave the heavy lifting to the pros."
It wasn't a surprising answer, you had hoped that maybe helping out, keeping your hands busy would stop your mind from drifting, stop the memories of those crime scene photos, haphazardly posted to a forum with no warnings in place. Jake claimed that kind of thing didn't bother him anymore, said it was all part of life, but you had caught him crying in his office while reading about a dog being reunited with its owner. He had some amount of empathy, just not for these victims.
You stayed out of the way until they were done checking the cameras, avoiding meeting the eyes of Omar and Tyler who would occasionally whisper something to each other before looking your way.
They complained about you being here as if you choose this for yourself. Jake wanted you here, wanted your fans to be his audience. He had even told you that you brought in a demographic of fans who he hadn't even anticipated. He didn't have to say who it was. You knew it was men who wanted to leer at a soft scared thing, men that got off to your fear, men that left comments on the videos that had no right to be out there on the internet for anyone to see.
You had learned after the first collab to never read the comments on Phear Phanatic videos.
"Alright, babe, we are mostly set up. You don't mind the blindfold, do ya? It's for the vibes."
You did mind, you very much minded, but as he held out the blindfold to you, that unassuming piece of fabric, it didn't seem like you had much of a choice. The other three watched you, probably waiting for you to chicken out. None of them had jumped to volunteer to be in the room with the terrifying incinerator and the blood stains.
Maybe the blindfold would make it better, if you couldn't see the incinerator you could pretend it wasn't there. Pretend you were back in your room, cuddled up on your plush little couch you had in the corner of your office where you like to read books and drink tea.
"Yeah, fine, that's it?"
Jake looked a bit sheepish as he shook his head.
"Put the blindfold on and I'll get you into position."
You put the blindfold on yourself, tightening it so that it wasn't too snug against your head. You then let yourself be led by Jake across the cavernous space. Without your eyesight the space felt infinite, your steps impossibly loud as your ears strained to fill the gap in your senses.
"Okay, you're going to sit here. Slowly," Jake guided you down onto the cold floor.
You wished you were still in your comfy pants. The ground was rough against you legs as you sat there, snagging against the tights. You waited as Jake directed the crew, rechecking camera angles and the night vision. It was all things you were used to, however you were typically not blindfolded as it happened.
"Last thing, babe, can you give me your hands?"
He sounded nervous, which made you nervous, but you gave him your hands because you trusted him. His friends may have been assholes and he had been asking you more and more to leave your comfort zone, but you knew he loved you, knew he would bring you home and make you a hot cuppa and make sure that you were okay.
You raised your hands up in front of you.
"What are you doing?"
"We all thought it might be more dramatic if the person who got the incinerator room was tied up, you know, because of the ritual?"
You did know, you knew far more than you wanted to. The photos of the woman, her lifeless eyes, her shirt pulled up to just below her breasts, the stark contrast between the viscera left behind in that open cavity and the bottom of her ribs where the skin had been pulled back.
You were too shocked by the idea, by the memory of that woman, to argue against it. You sat there dutifully as Jake wrapped your wrists with a rough rope. He didn't tie them together the way you thought he would, but instead tied each up and then slowly laid you back on the cold ground.
"We'll set a timer, I'll be back to let you go in thirty minutes tops," he explained as he tied each hand down to anchors you had missed while you looked around the room. The legs of one of the tables? Something else? You pulled against the binds, it wasn't super tight, but it meant you couldn't reach the walkie.
"You promise?"
"Of course, baby, anything for you."
You heard someone snigger as he cooed at you, as if they could judge. You were the one tied to the floor of the murder room, the murder room with the looming incinerator to watch over you.
Once Jake was happy with your placement, moving your sweatshirt around, readjusting your blindfold, he stood up and walked away. Again your ears strained for any little sound, but the shuffling of feet over the rough concrete was hard to follow. It wasn't until Jake started talking again that you fully understood what had happened.
"Welcome to the incinerator room! We learned on our tour of the factory that in addition to being the final resting ground of thousands of animals during the operation of this factory it is also the site of the failed satanic ritual. All of our viewers at home are in for a treat, because my lovely girlfriend has agreed to be our sacrificial lamb tonight!"
You heard Jake's shoes scraping against the floor, you knew him well enough to imagine the grand gesture, the stepping aside to reveal you, tied up to the floor, blindfold over your eyes.
"There she is, all dolled up and all tied up. Now, we have two very special elements we found during our research to help make this ritual more authentic," he paused, whether for dramatic flair or not you couldn't tell. "First, we have a dagger that is the same kind used by the would-be satanists, we're hoping this will work as a trigger object for any spirits left behind."
You heard his footsteps approaching you, then the surprisingly heavy weight of the dagger being placed on your stomach.
"And then we found what may have been the exact summoning spell used that fateful night. Don't try this at home, Phantics."
You couldn't help the way your hands clenched, pulling against the restraints. This wasn't what you had agreed to, not when Jake asked you to be on the shoot, not when he told you about the card draw. Not once had he mentioned finding part of a satanic ritual. Jake had faithful fans, committed fans, his monthly subs were great, he didn't need to resort to this.
You should have known though, you should have seen through the whispers and the side eye from the rest of the crew, the meetings at the apartment where they went into Jake's office and closed the door. You had stupidly assumed it was some sponsorship thing, something they couldn't talk about, didn't want to jinx. Never had it crossed your mind that they were conspiring.
Was it even random chance that you had pulled incinerator room, or had this been the plan all along? You couldn't see any of them agreeing to this, not when they knew Jake had some random fucking ritual he had found online.
"You got this babe," he said like he was cheering you on while playing a video game, not hyping you up to be their sacrifice for a fucking video.
"Laudámus te, benedícimus te, adorámus te, glorificámus te, grátias ágimus tibi propter magnam glóriam tuam," he stumbled over the pronunciations of the Latin. It felt like you knew the words, had heard some version of this spoken to you by a priest as a child, young and impressionable, sat between your parents at a church you had long forgotten the name of.
"Proiectus est draco magnus, serpens antiquus, qui vocatur diabolus et satanas. Grátias ágimus tibi propter magnam glóriam tuam. Miserére nobis; súscipe deprecatiónem nostram."
He repeated the last line three times.
You held your breath, waiting for someone to say sike, waiting for someone to say anything. But you couldn't hear them over the roar of the blood rushing through your head, the pounding of your heart. You knew if you tried to breath it would be a struggle, you were on the verge of a panic attack and the only thing stopping you was knowing you would never live it down if the crew watched you lose it over some message board ritual that was probably just a bunch of poorly translated bullshit.
So you stayed still, not moving an inch as the crew moved around you, the lights all clicking off until you were left alone in the dark. Only, you didn't see the darkness, you could only imagine it from behind the blindfold and maybe that was a blessing.
And when you did finally take a breath your chest heaved as you tried to remain calm, knowing that some asshat might be watching the stream live. It wouldn't have been the first time, you knew they typically had someone watching the streams, checking that the cams were on, making sure there weren't any disturbance, spiritual or otherwise. In your experience though it seemed like you were the only one who got mocked after the fact about something that they had caught you doing, it didn't matter that Liam screamed like a little girl over nothing or that Omar had once gotten so turned around he stumbled upon where Jake was doing his solo investigation, scaring the two of them shitless.
You lost track of the time, it was easy to do when you couldn't see anything, couldn't move. But when you heard his footsteps returning, the shuffling walk of someone who was guilty of something you were ready to lose your shit properly.
"I'm actually really mad at you right now, Jake. You're such a fucking asshole, you know that?"
He didn't respond, how could he, he had to know you were right. He had fucking used you for content.
You listened to his footsteps growing closer, they seemed quieter now then before, but maybe you had adjusted to the quietness of the room, the stillness that had settled into you while you were waiting.
You could feel the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes and were happy the blindfold was there to hide it. You couldn't see if he had turned back on the spotlights in the room, but you didn't think you could handle the embarrassment of anyone, including Jake, witnessing you having an absolute breakdown over this.
"I'm never doing another collab with you, you hear me Jakub Suwala, never again!"
You were starting to feel a bit hysteric. You knew the writing had been on the wall, the carefully built foundation of your relationship slowly cracking under pressure. Pressure from Jake's crew, pressure from society, pressure for the two of you to be more. People wanted you to be more like other online couples, more like influencers who flaunted every aspect of their lives. Jake's fans wanted couples videos, pictures of the two of you out and about, brands wanted all the cutesy couples content other people made.
You had fallen in love with the man who baked you cookies for your first date, who surprised you with new plushies, who picked you up tea from your favorite place in the city when he was there for work. He hadn't been that over-the-top, overly commercialized, cookie-cutter internet boyfriend when you started dating. He was the fall asleep cuddling on the couch during a movie boyfriend. The share a slice of pie just because boyfriend. The kind that made love to you, warm and cozy in your bed, missionary style because he said he always wanted to see your face when you came.
And you had been happy with all of that, so very happy with it.
Until you weren't, until the tea deliveries stopped, until Jake complained that you had too many things, that he wanted an interior designer to come redo your apartment, that he wanted to move somewhere bigger, luxury. He didn't think of you when he was out and when he wasn't out he was always talking about the next big thing, the next big milestone, the next goal.
Jake had given you a pat on the back and a good job babe when you hit a million subs. By the time you hit 5 you hadn't bothered to tell him.
He never noticed.
God, you were such an idiot. You should have broke up ages ago, but it was comfortable, it was easy, it was safe even if it hadn't been fulfilling for so long.
And he hadn't touched you in ages. You had resorted to taking one of those vibe sponsorships, too embarrassed to buy one on your own, to have that in your order history or god forbid go to the store and buy it in person? But a company could send it to you and no one would have to know you hadn't fucked your boyfriend in almost six months. No one had to know that the first time you used that little vibrating sucking rose you had cum hard enough you almost blacked out. You certainly had to change the sheets.
Jake hadn't noticed and if he ever saw that little silicone toy tucked into your bedside table he never mentioned it.
You were surprised when you felt his knuckles graze your face, his skin warm against the chill that had settled over you while you laid on the ground waiting for something to happen.
"Can you hurry up? Please," you didn't want to beg, he didn't deserve it.
He didn't say anything, but his hands ghosted down your cheek, along your neck, the feathery touch sending goosebumps across your flesh and a deep shiver down your spine. He picked up the knife and tossed it, the metal blade clattering as it landed.
You pulled weakly at the restraints, your wrists would be rubbed raw, you could already feel the bite of the rough material against your skin. How could you have let him tie you up like this.
And why the fuck was he taking his time untying you?
"Please," you tried again, swallowing hard when his fingers slipped beneath the loose neck of the sweatshirt. It hadn't been enough to fight off the chill of the floor and his warmth continued to bleed into you.
It was comforting in a way, and you hated that. You hated it even more when your breath hitched as his other hand started to slowly unzip the hoodie, the rasping sound of metal on metal harsh in the otherwise quiet room. It had been so long, so so long since Jake had been the one to initiate anything, he was more than happy to let you suck him off and for a while you were fine with always being the pursuer, the one who was asking for more.
You had given that up when you realized you could make yourself far more satisfied.
But now, after months of nothing, only cursory and obligatory attention, just the graze of his hand over your already stiff nipples had you ready to cry out, to stop begging for him to let you go and start begging for him to touch you.
It almost didn't matter that you were surrounded by cameras, by equipment that was streaming video to someone holed up in a room watching the investigations live for anything that the team was missing in the moment. They were probably watching you right now, had probably been waiting the whole time waiting for you to break.
But it did matter, it mattered to you that you likely had some kind of audience for the first time Jake had touched you in months.
"The camera, babe, please let me go."
He didn't respond because why would he. But he pulled back, his warmth retreating before you heard the telltale sound of the cameras being powered down. It was uncharacteristic of him, he took these investigations so seriously, more seriously than you had expected from him when he first came to you with the idea, sat around the coffee table showing your story boards and research he had been doing. You weren't sure if there was a future in it for him, but he had found something he was really passionate about and at first you were happy for him.
It didn't take long for you to realize that Jake's passion was at the expense of your happiness. So him turning the cameras off was shocking, unexpected, but more than welcome when he returned, kneeling by your side and placing a warm hand against your face.
It was tender, sweet. This was what you had been missing, you had always thought the phrase touch starved was overly dramatic, it couldn't be that bad. But it was, it was bad, to be so close to someone and receive nothing from them. It left you aching, hurting for more, for anything.
For fulfillment, for satisfaction, for completion.
His hand drifted again, lower and lower until his palm engulfed your breast over your shirt, before slipping beneath the open front of the sweatshirt. His thumb rubbed over your stiff nipple, teasing a moan from you that you could no longer hold in. Mindlessly you arched your back, pressing more firmly against his hand, wordlessly asking for more.
As if he read your thoughts he moved, crawling over you so that his legs shimmied between your own, jostling them until you were spread around his thick thighs, back even more arched from the ground, wrists still pulling against the restraints.
The sweatshirt slipped to the sides, his hands kneading your breasts before slowly trailing down your ribs, long fingers pressing into your plush sides, gently maneuvering you as they went so that you were practically in his lap. The tiny skirt just a hair's breadth away from exposing you to him and anyone else who might walk in.
In a way you didn't care. It was exhilarating to be manhandled, to be tied down, to risk being caught.
You wanted him to fuck you right here on the floor of this abandoned building.
The desire was out of character for you, you had enjoyed the vanilla missionary, you were happy with what you had gotten from him in the past. You had never needed more than that. You knew the phrase absence makes the heart grow fonder but did forced celibacy also make you hornier? More adventurous? Kinkier?
"Please," you whined, pushing your feet against the ground so that you could grind up against him, your panties already soaked.
That seemed to be enough of an offering because he was flipping your skirt up over your stomach and pushing one knee to the side to create space before rubbing his thumb from hole to clit through the panties and tights, the slicked material sticking to your skin.
You gasped when you heard the ripping of the tights, a tear ripped big enough for his fingers to cup you before they were pushing your panties to the side so that the pad of his thumb could rub circles around your clit. The pulsing heat of pleasure building low in your core was a feeling you couldn't accomplish on your own and certainly hadn't felt before with Jake. He had always been a minimum foreplay guy, and it had never really been necessary to get you ready for him.
But fuck, there was no way you were settling for missionary in your next relationship. When you got home you were writing yourself a bedroom bucket list and ticking off all the boxes.
The first box getting checked off was exhibitionism.
The pressure in your core was building steadily, the heat settling firmly over your body, all of the chill chased away. You tried to swallow down your moans, the risk of being caught by the crew made you dizzy but the reality of having to face them again was enough to have you clenching your teeth, breathing heavily through your nose as your hands clenched.
"I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum," you gasped for air, chest heaving as you muttered the words over and over until you felt something snap, your body going rigid as the pleasure coursed through you like a tidal wave.
On the rare occasion Jake had you coming on his fingers it was a one and done scenario but it seemed like he was just as taken as you were because he shifted you again, his other hand dropping your knee before pulling at the thin material of panties until they ripped as well, giving him open access to your cunt.
You didn't have time to question him or to even consider where he had found the strength to rip the fabric in that way, his hand was already slipping between your folds, middle and forefinger catching your wetness and spreading it, before both slipped in.
The stretch was more than you expected, more than you had felt before. You had toyed with the idea of buying a dildo, something bigger than Jake, something to see what all the fuss was about, but you had chickened out every time because if you couldn't muster the courage to get a vibe you were certainly not getting a dildo. But now, with the way his fingers stretched you, could you have been misremembering?
There was no way it had felt this way before.
All thoughts were a jumbled mess as his fingers pressed into you, curling up to hit your gspot with every movement. Behind the blindfold your eyes rolled back, a kaleidoscope of color as synapses fired off.
Maybe that was it, maybe not seeing Jake's stupid fucking face was why you could be so in the moment. You could imagine it was anyone here with you, anyone but Jake who was certainly dead to you the moment you were done here, untied and out of the godforsaken factory.
You were going to cum again, the pressure building higher and higher. You didn't want to cum on his fingers, you wanted him inside you, raw and uninhibited. You can feel how hard he was, whatever pants he had been wearing were doing a poor job of containing his arousal.
"Fuck me, please fuck me."
He paused, fingers pulling out from you, squelching as the pulled out and dripping as they came to a rest on your thigh.
If he didn't fuck you or finish finger fucking you you were going to scream.
He shifted his weight, your feet dangling from his thighs as he shifted up. When he settled back down his cock rested against your thigh, warm and heavy. It felt big in a way you had never felt before. You wanted him in you, your cunt clenching around nothing just thinking about the way he was going to feel, cock pressed deep into you, finger pressed to your clit.
God, if only you could get your hands on him.
You could have cried when he finally moved, rolling his hips forward so that his cock laid against your mound, the length of him seemed almost monstrous. You didn't have time to consider how much bigger he felt when he ground down into you, the velvety skin of his cock rubbing against your clit. Your back arched, you tried to push back against him as best you could with your hands still tied down.
And when he leaned forward over you, hot breath on our neck as his cock head pushed in, just the tip enough to have your breathing heavy from the stretch?
That felt like salvation.
You couldn't believe it could feel like this, that so little could have you feeling so full. You didn't want this moment to end.
You almost did cry when you heard the staticky click of the walkie, discarded and forgotten. Jake hadn't thought to leave it close enough for you to actually use, but it had been left there so they could talk to you.
There were words that you couldn't make out at first, the static too loud, the distance too far between you and the rest of the crew.
Then the static cleared, the voices discernible and the body above you froze.
"On our way to get you, babe. Ran into a bit of battery trouble, but got it all sorted. We lost visuals on you as well, might have to redo the shots if we didn't get anything on the backups."
Jake continued to chat with someone else on the walkie, back and forth about something meaningless like EMP spikes and cold spots.
You felt frozen, all the warmth that you had felt seeping from you, the cock pushing into you no longer felt like salvation.
Your thoughts were wild as you started to struggle, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't see, you couldn't even properly move. Whoever it was hunched over you wasn't bothered by your kicking legs or attempts to dislodge yourself from him.
"No, no, no, no, no," you repeated over and over.
Strong hands gripped your thighs, the fingers impossibly long in the way they wrapped around you, inhuman and stronger than any man who had ever touched you. How had you not noticed? How had you not realized that the heat pouring off his body was too hot to be natural.
Unholy.
"Thought I would have more time with you, lamb," he rasped, breath hot against your throat.
"What are you?"
You couldn't see him, you could barely make sense of the touch of his skin against yours but you knew on a cosmic level that this was no man. Jake and those idiots had summoned some evil thing to torment you.
You were the sacrifice. Was he going to rip you apart like the woman in those crime scene photos? Gorge himself on your soft, blood rich organs? A sanguine baptism to welcome him into existence.
Fuck, you were going to die here and it was all Jake's fault.
"Think of me as your guardian angel. I am your redemption, your salvation," he paused when voices crackled through the walkie again. You couldn't make sense of what the crew was saying, you could only focus on the pressure of the beast above you, against you, inside you. "Foolish sheep think they can take back what was freely given?"
He pressed forward, cock pressing further into, heating you from the inside out. The blindfold soaked up your tears but the sweat pooled on your skin.
"You'll wait for me?"
The question was asked in a way that felt like he genuinely cared about your answer, that he wanted you to want to wait for him.
You had no choice, no amount of struggle had loosened your bindings.
"What are you going to do?"
You didn't expect an answer, nor did you expect him to reach forward; fingers worming their way beneath the blindfold and slipping it up over your face.
The room was dark, all of the lights that had been on for filming were off, there was a faint cast of light from somewhere, some hidden thing that illuminated the cameras enough to create silent shadows. Enough light for you to see the incinerator looming over you.
You looked everywhere but at the monster, the devil that had been summoned to torment you, a demon. But there was only so long you could avoid looking at the creature above you.
His whole body seemed to be cloaked in slithering shadows, you could feel the firm press on his hand against your face but when you tried to focus on the his arm, his shoulders, the expanse of his chest it was just out of reach, like a shadow passing through the periphery but he was right in front of you.
Your gaze settled on his face, a monstrous mask of bleached bone over a gaping maw. The bone glowed with an unearthly illumination, a stark contrast to the shadows and the dark room. The shape was no animal you recognized, too human and at the same time bovine, ribbed horns protruding from the forehead and curling around like a ram.
"I'll be back for you, lamb," he leaned in, the maw opening a long, tentacle-like tongue slipping out and licking the fresh tears that stained your cheeks.
Then, with no more warning than the promise to return, he was gone. All at once, all together, the hand against your cheek, the tongue, the cock that crowded your organs. It would be easy to write off as your imagination if not for your own cum cooling between your legs.
Series | AO3 | Tips | Part Two
