bügge
Swing x reader He tries to get into your head. 🔞 CW: SUGGESTIVE, descriptions of a centipede on your skin, detailed scenario of a centipede crawling inside of your ear, y/n is uncomfortable with the whole thing, more horror than anything, Swing torturing y/n for his amusement.
“Can your centipede tattoo travel to another person’s skin?”
Swing tilts his head, the corners of his scarred mouth twitching. Something beneath his skin is crawling just to eavesdrop.
"Ah… This little old thing?" He presents his neck to you, and his Adam’s apple throbs slightly. A blackened trail of segmented legs and tiny jaws writhes faintly on the surface of his skin, then it stills. You feel its eyes on you. Swing gives you a look for a moment or two before giving you a cold grin.
“You do look tasty enough. Perhaps it wants a new holiday home... on your neck.”
You instinctively take a step back and wonder why the hell you approached this man in the first place. Curiosity really did kill the cat, and by god, you’re next. “So it’s alive?”
Swing gives you a sly smile and leans in. The size difference between you two allows him to completely tower over you with just the simplest of movements. It’s an unfair game, but he loves to win, even if by cheating through the genetic lottery.
“It’s a part of me,” he smirks. He doesn’t give you much time to react when he suddenly grabs your hand and holds it to his lips. His hand is much bigger than yours and calloused at the fingertips. “And what’s mine is yours.” Swing plants a small kiss on your knuckles.
You try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you. “What are you doing?” You stammer slightly. It’s getting increasingly difficult to put on a brave face in front of this man. The broken chain around his wrist makes you wonder where in the world he has been, but you try not to dwell on it too much... That whatever he possibly got imprisoned for, he looks like he would do it again.
“Relax, you little thing. I’m letting it know you’re a friend.”
The crawling centipede around Swing’s neck disappears down his collar. A myriad of thoughts swirl in your head as a bead of cold sweat drips down your forehead. “Now relax,” he says to you smoothly. Swing squeezes your hand. The touch isn’t rough or demanding, but it’s definitely a grip. You imagine the centipede slithering down his arm underneath his clothes. Wait, you swallow audibly. Don’t imagine what he looks like without them.
You finally see it rear its little head on his hand, and you don’t know what to feel about it. “Easy now, it’s not going to hurt you... Not for now, anyway,” he chuckles as the centipede continues its journey towards the tip of your finger. You tense slightly. It feels like there’s an actual bug inspecting your skin. You swallow your unease and ask him what is probably a dumb question. “Does it bite?”
Swing shrugs, his gaze fixed on his pet. “Oh, it’s rather loyal to me. It’s not every day I’m letting it touch other people, so I can’t quite gauge how it’ll react...” The centipede pauses, its antennae twitching against your skin. You feel that it’s sizing you up when it slowly curls around the tip of your finger. He gives you a toothy grin when you let out a little squeak as it finally crawls onto your hand.
“You’re cute getting all jumpy from this. See? It likes you.”
When this thing was on Swing’s skin, you chalked it off as a tattoo imbued with magic, but seeing it creep on your skin let you know that just anything was possible now. Now all you have to worry about is how to make it go away. The centipede moves around your hand, exploring its new terrain. It's strange because it’s plain as day that it's just markings, yet it feels too alive. You can’t shake the feeling that it’s under your skin. Swing laughs softly at your little reactions. He can see it all.
“You’ll get used to it,” he answers smugly as his gaze drifts back down to the centipede, which has now reached the crook of your wrist. You give him a frown. “I don’t want to get used to it-”
Your voice suddenly reaches a higher pitch, and you try to shake away the grip he has on your hand. You watch in horror as the head of the centipede disappears under your sleeve along with the rest of its elongated body. “Swing, call it back!” You almost scream. Its little legs prick as it moves inside the skin of your arm, dancing just above your nerves. It’s itchy and gets more aggravating by the second. The older man lets out a wicked laugh at your discomfort. “Relax, it’s just looking for a warm, cozy spot.” A shiver races up your spine from the idea of it, something alive, knowing, mapping every hidden inch of your body from now on, all while Swing watches with that lazy grin like he's already won a game you didn't know you were playing.
It skitters all the way up your arm until you feel it on your collarbone. The centipede peeks out from the collar of your blouse like a curious pet snake. Swing sees it while you can’t, and he immediately bursts into laughter. "Oh, it looks like it likes you... Really likes you." He leans in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Maybe it wants to feel your pulse. Don’t panic now, it can feel fear.” You’re unable to say anything, thinking any movement would cause it to become aggressive. It continues its journey, creeping up the side of your neck with gentle, tickling legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The sensation of it crawling beneath your skin is bizarre and unpleasant, like being touched by hundreds of tiny, inquisitive fingers, in places no one has touched before... Not even yourself. The centipede, as if drawn to light the beating of your jugular, pauses for a moment above your pulse.
Swing watches you intently, his smirk now an eager grin. "Wanna make a bet on where it’ll go next?" You’re unable to shake your head, so you look at him with pleading eyes. He lets out a huff, and you can mentally hear him saying how adorable you look with his pet around your neck. Swing laughs again, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh come on, you're overreacting. It's not that bad. In fact, I bet you're secretly enjoying it,” he speaks smugly as he leans in even closer to you. “Just look at how you're acting, just squirming and gasping for air... You don't seem to be trying to get away too hard.”
“Idon’twantitobiteme!” You yelp while trying to control your rapid breaths. It moves again, just as you feared, crawling up your neck this time. Its head rests momentarily in the sensitive skin just behind your ear, feeling almost like a tiny kiss from a lover. Swing leans back, enjoying the sight of you panicking.
"Oh please, it's not gonna bite. It likes you too much. I told you it can sense fear, didn’t I?” He gestures to your rapidly rising and falling chest. "See? You're practically feeding it right now. It's savoring your panic."
The centipede nuzzles closer against your ear, its legs exploring the sensitive skin there almost playfully. You’re starting to freak out. “Swing, please take it back already, I don’t like where it’s going!”
He only chuckles in response, a dark glint in his eyes. "Well, it's not up to you, is it? The little guy has a mind of its own.” He watches as the centipede continues to move, inching ever closer to the entrance of your ear. “Swing-”
You feel something alien crawl into your ear, and your sense of hearing on the left side of your head is completely blocked by the sound of skittering. You let out a scream and your hand shoots out to pull it out, but you’re unable to grab onto anything. You try again and again, going as far as scratching your skin so that it would deter it a little bit, but it only goes in deeper. Swing bursts into laughter; it was sharp, wild, and like the howling of an animal. “Oh, there it goes!”
He grabs your wrist to prevent you from going at yourself any further, considering all your actions thus far were futile. Swing also grabs your chin and tilts your face to the side so he can have a closer look at it getting inside of you. "Shhh, shhh... stop p█nic█ing," his voice drops to a velvet hush. He chuckles again as you let out another scream, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as the centipede markings go deeper inside of your ear canal.
“C█ █ou h█r it m█ing a█un█ i█ t██re?”
Swing holds your wrist firmly, his grip almost painful. You’re unable to make out his words as you’re forced to hold still. He chuckles lowly as the centipede continues to squirm deep inside your ear, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. You can feel its tiny legs scrabbling against the sensitive flesh of your ear canal, the sound almost like faint scratches or rustling. It reaches a point where the sound of its movement gets slightly muffled. You can feel it pressing against something, causing you to go limp. Swing almost has to hold you upright, and he lets out another laugh, clearly relishing the sight of you so vulnerable. He easily supports your weight, letting go of your wrist to hold you from behind as the centipede squirms inside of you.
"Aww, l█k at ██u. So h█pl█ss... A█l b█a█se █f a lit█e b█ cr█li██ a█nd in█d█ y█r e█."
He leans in until his lips are inches from your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper as the centipede rustles within. The centipede is now as far inside your ear as it can get, its legs dancing across your eardrum with a light, ticklish touch.
“█ ███ ██ ██ ██ ███ ██.”
Swing watches you cry, causing him to become more amused by the second. He says something again, but he whispers it against your blocked ear, and you’re in too much of a haze to hear it through your other ear. He reaches up, brushing a thumb under your eye with rough gentleness. The centipede stirs inside of you, its movements growing more and more pronounced as it finds its "perfect spot" inside you. You whimper at the thought of it nesting in there, right by your eardrum, right next to your brain.
You grab his jacket and weakly ball your hands into fists. You start out by mouthing your words until your voice finally comes out. “Get it out...!”
He smirks, then tilts your head to the other side to whisper in your other ear. “Make me.” Then he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The centipede shifts inside your ear, a whisper of legs against nerve-endings. A tear slips free and he catches it with his thumb.
"You’re so sensitive, so warm... It likes that, and I like watching you fall apart.”
A pause.
"But if you really want it out, all you gotta do is say please."
“SWING, PLEASE!” You scream out, shaking your fists and bumping them against his chest. Your eyes are blown wide at the fear of it turning your skull into its new territory. He raises his eyebrow at you and grins widely. For a breath or two, he just looks at you. You fear for the worst that he’s going to say something stupid, like he didn’t hear you the first time. You glare at him and grit your teeth. Then he chuckles, low and slow. The centipede stirs then begins to crawl back out, leg by tiny leg, tracing down your ear canal with deliberate slowness. There’s a final tickle as it emerges into the cold air.
His hand is pressed against your neck, his fingers underneath your jaw with a gentleness you don’t expect —or even want— from him. You can feel the shadowy creature crawl back onto the surface of Swing’s skin, leaving you bare. You feel like something was taken from you today.
"See? All better," he brushes his nail against your earlobe. “Aren’t I so nice? I didn’t have to make you beg twice.” If he wasn’t holding you up by the waist, you could fall to the floor right then and there. Despite this, you hold back the urge to punch him square in the face.
"Screw you...!"
He catches your glare with a smirk, his hand slipping from your waist to the small of your back, fingers tracing idle loops against the fabric of your uniform. “Oh? No ‘thank you’? I did you a favour. No need to be rude.” He leans closer, enjoying the tension as well as the deep flush on your face.
"Or do you have something else in mind for that mouth?"