When I loved you, but... I don't know. Do I feel those feelings anymore?
Poppy Playtime. Prototype x Reader/Player.
English is not my native language.
Tags/TW/CW: Experimentation on children, Reader/Player is an orphan, Found family, Prototype protects, Prototype is the Player/Reader's uncle, as strange as that may sound, MC for 12-14 years at the beginning, Memory loss.
You don’t understand what happened, how come you were told that your mother was dead.
You don't understand why you were sent to an orphanage.
You don't understand why you weren't taken in by your few relatives.
You don't understand how your mother could leave.
You just couldn't accept it.
And you're not sure you'll be happy in the Playtime Co. shelter.
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
You were quiet. Too quiet.
You didn't know why...
Why they dragged you here...
This place looked like a laboratory...
And it was scary.
You shouldn't be here...
Oh, absolutely shouldn't be here...
But they dragged you here.
You didn't know what would happen.
While you were lost in your thoughts, someone pushed you through the door.
You looked up at your knees, not in your face.
You put your hands out just in time.
And then you heard.
"Experiment 1006."
The voice was hoarse, as hoarse as possible.
"You better get out, or else."
The voice was clearly threatening.
At that moment, you looked around.
The room was dimly lit in some places.
And the darkness was unsettling.
You looked into the darkness of the room and thought you heard someone breathing.
You didn't know if it was an auditory hallucination.
Or if there really was something there in the darkness.
Then...
A clawed hand appeared from the darkness.
You stared at the hand in fear.
And then you saw a yellow-orange light.
You didn't move, afraid.
*One wrong move, and I'm finished*
Then a head appeared.
And to your surprise, it was wearing the Jester's hat?
*I don’t know who came up with this, but he’s just a genius*
You thought to yourself sarcastically.
The body turned out to be completely goat-like, with the lower part of the body looking like a beetle.
And he was huge.
At least five times your height.
He lowered his human-eating torso closer to you.
You didn't move.
His face, or was that a mask?
It was a few inches from yours.
You flinched slightly.
He shook his head to the left.
"I never thought you'd live to see this, but that's moment, Harley Sawyer."
He spoke...
He spoke in equal voices...
What...
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!
"Yes, a person who's practically related to you."
*What...?*
You thought to yourself, looking at...
This thing?
Or whatever this creature is called?
"Prototype, they brought you a child who is, so to speak, your nephew."
*WHAT??? HAVE, THEY GONE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY THERE OR WHAT???*
While you were going crazy inside.
To your surprise, the creature carefully and tenderly picked you up in his arms.
He looked toward the window, where the three scientists, Harley Sawyer, and Leith Pierre were visible.
He looked at you the same way.
You looked...
Seriously scared, so unaware of what was happening around you.
He pulled you closer to him.
And whispered softly.
"Elena..."
Hearing your mother's name, you looked at him.
"How...?"
You couldn't wrap your head around it.
This creature in the jester's hat is...your uncle?
"You really don't look much like her, but...I'm glad I can hold you in my arms."
He said, placing his "chin" on the top of your head.
And at that moment you felt sleepy.
Your eyelids grew heavy, and as you drifted off, you heard indistinct voices.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
You ran as fast as you could.
A crazy purple cat chased after you.
"Angel, I told you you should have turned me away!"
Dogday shouted in your ear.
"Leave you to your fate? Damn it."
Before you could finish your sentence, Catnap was already in front of you.
By the way there was another turn and you ran as fast as you could.
While you were running with your companion on your shoulders,
The cat started chasing again.
You didn't know how much longer you were running.
But you managed to break away from Catnap.
"Whew," you exhaled.
"That was a big deal, Angel... you could have died."
"But I'm still alive, right ?"
You said, looking over his shoulder.
"Yeah..." he said, not taking much of a deep breath.
*It must have really taken a toll on him*.
You thought about it and looked apologetically at the human or child trapped in the toy.
*I really need this to stop.*
I thought to myself, you were heading to the gas supply area, where there were also other toys.
MINORS DNI. Heed the warnings for your own sake. There is explicit content ahead.
Pairing: The Prototype x Reader
Word Count: 2,400
Summary: After a particularly brutal punishment from The Prototype, something shifted between you. Something occurred that left him rattled, contemplative, and…wanting.
You were not hopeful, for something unknown was sure to lead to your further ruin.
Content Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Canon typical violence, Gender-Neutral AFAB reader, smut, mentions of torture, light blood play, implied praise kink, prototype is touch starved, Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, Oral sex, dub-con.
Note: Could be read with toy or human reader, or even the player. It’s your call.
This could also be read as a loose sequel to my prior Drabble, or read as its own thing.
Either way, enjoy~
|| Read on AO3 ||
—
It all started with a single touch.
He should have killed you right then. After interrogating you, after trying to pry answers out of you and then having no more use from you, you should have died and been discarded. He was very well going to.
But then, as you accepted your fate and gazed upon the cruel permanent smile of the prototype's porcelain face…you lifted your hand up. Your fingers, feathery light, brushed against the cold surface of what would have been his cheek. Because even as you gazed upon your would be killer, even as you knew your life was going to end…your cursed bleeding heart couldn't help but see something. Beyond the smile, beyond the gore and the experiments…beyond the pain and fear he caused everyone else…there was hurt. Hurt he turned into hate. Hurt that couldn't be soothed away or solved with a few kind words and a hug. Hurt that made a person want to show everyone else how it felt, that made them desperate to maintain some form of power.
That was your first mistake.
Showing any bit of kindness, treating him with any bit of softness. It awoke something in him. And it ended up with you trapped in this never ending cycle as his prisoner. His pet.
He was not happy with your most recent escape attempt. His punishment had been brutal, and he made sure you stayed wide awake for…most of it. For the way he picked through your insides after tearing you open, again. Though you passed out nearing the end of it. You weren't conscious for when he put you back together, stitched your torso closed and neatly like he always did. As if he hadn't brutally torn into you in the first place.
This was a common punishment. To be torn apart, rendered a bloody, gorey mess, and then put right back together. Again and again. And he always made sure you remained the same after it all. With only a single stitched up wound to show for it, hiding all the things he did before closing you up.
But this time something felt different. He seemed…unsatisfied. You sensed it when you regained some consciousness right as he was carrying you back to 'your room'.
This had never happened before, which meant this was dangerous. Very dangerous.
It felt safer when you knew what to expect, when you knew what he would do and how he would do it—like usual. When you could turn your brain off and go through the motions, screaming until your throat went raw at the familiar pains. It never got easier, it always hurt. But it was familiar.
This? This wasn't familiar. Even as you sat there with the steel collar returned to its place around your neck that kept you chained to the wall behind you, watching as the Prototype seemed to hesitate to leave the room. There was a tension in the air that you couldn't decipher. But your tired mind was slowly losing the fight to stay awake, so rather than mulling over what was happening and what it could mean, your vision blurred into darkness as you returned to unconsciousness. What should have been a far more peaceful alternative to reality.
—
You said that name.
You weren't supposed to know that name. No one should know that name except for one person…
So when you whispered it in the midst of his 'punishment', when those three sillables escaped your lips right before you passed out…he had halted. You had frozen him.
He felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. A yearning that wasn't like his hunger for vengeance and control. It was a softer kind of yearning, a warmer one. But he wasn't warm anymore, he wasn't built for warmth. He was built for precision. Yet this is not the first time you brought out an incling of warmth out of him.
When you first touched him so gently in your first ever encounter…as if you were saying "I forgive you for what you are about to do", that was the first time he felt it. That was the first time he hesitated. And all this time he kept you, because while he did not want to even acknowlede that little tiny spark of want that had begun to embed itself deep into the cold mechanisms in his chest…he wanted you to touch him again. To share that warmth. A kindness he had never truly known, had considered childish frivolities. If only to ignore the emptiness.
But when you said that name. A name he no longer used. A name that died like the life he had too many years ago…it turned that small spark into a blazing inferno of need. Something clawing and desperate. Something too difficult even for him to tame. He hated it. Hated the way it felt to want something from someone. To need someone. He hated feeling unsatisfied by your screams. He hated finding himself wondering what you would sound like if you said that name again instead.
So after some time trying to distract himself, trying and failing to wind himself down… he found himself making his way back down to the corridors. To your room.
—
When you inevitably returned to the waking world from a dreamless sleep, the first thing you noticed was the pressure on your chest. It was heavy, but not suffocating. You couldn't really move though, as you attempted to squirm.
As you opened your eyes, you stopped any movement you were attempting to make when you realized you were face to face with him.
A gasp escaped you, "I-I, What are you—"
"Say it again."
You were beyond caught off guard at this point. You blinked up at him, unsure. "S-Say…what again…?" you ask meekly.
"That name. What you called me before…"
This confused you. You weren't really sure what he was talking about, in all honesty.
"Um…Prototy—"
"NOT. That one…" He leaned in closer, face a hair away from yours. You were pretty sure that if he wanted to, he could bite your head clean off. You shuddered at the thought.
He noticed this shudder. He could practically smell the fear off you. But…
"Perhaps you need some help remembering…" He spoke low, you could feel the hot air of his breath against your skin as he leaned to your neck. "Perhaps…you need better motivation."
Your breath hitched when you felt that long tongue slither its way up your neck. Your hands came up instinctively to grasp at anything within reach, that being the fabric of his lapels. You pushed back at him, but he didn't move even a centimeter. He would always overpower you.
The prototype was letting his instincts take hold rather than calculating his next actions. He wanted to see what it would take for you to be warm to him again. But he also felt the yearning inside him shift to something more…insatiable. He wanted to taste more, to smell more…of you. And perhaps now it was time for him to stop ignoring these desires.
You couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped you, your body trembling and your mind utterly confused. He wasn't hurting you or dragging you out for some experiment like he usually did…but you weren't entirely sure if this was much better. Some part of you almost preferred the torture. You couldn't make sense of this at all. And then he slid down, sliding his large tongue along the length of the stitches that ran down the center of your torso, from your chest to just above your pelvis. You panted a bit, because the feeling of it was leaving you breathless.
"Y-You…this is…a-strange…" you whined
As he got lower, he unknowingly nudged right between your legs whilst tonguing at the edge of the wound. This caused you to let out a particularly strange, higher pitched sound. One that lead the prototype to pause as he processed it. He'd never heard a sound like that from you before. It sounded startled, yes. But unlike the frightened kind, it was more surprised. He nudged you there again, this time the sound coming out a little longer and confused. Yet…
"You enjoy that…"
It was a statement, not a question. And you quickly covered your face as it heated up. You hadn't meant to make such pathetic noises, or for it to sound like you were enjoying this. You weren't! You couldn't be! It wouldn't make any sense and—
"AH!"
A scream escaped you, surprised again, and not one of pain. You snapped your gaze down to find the sight of him, the prototype, sliding his tongue against your crotch, against the fabric of your clothes. Your only barrier. It felt hot and wet, and your hips twitched without you meaning to.
He seemed to quite like that reaction. Perhaps a bit too much, because that heat and desire only seemed to amplify within him. He shoved the tip of his tongue against you, pressing against the fabric harder before eventually getting fed up with the annoying garment. How was he to make you give your most optimal reaction if he wasn't making full contact? That simply wouldn't do. So he slid his razor sharp fingers along your leg before slicing through the fabric, as easy as a scalpel. A red line formed along your skin, but it wasn't a deep laceration or anything. So he was hardly concerned…
But he was curious. So he slid his tongue along your thigh, lapping up the small trickle of blood that escaped that clean slice. You tensed up, it hurt. But the way you squirmed your hips indicated you didn't dislike it. You didn't pull away, you didn't cry in pain. On the contrary. It was as if you wanted him to do it more.
You wanted him. Enjoyed his touch. Wether you were aware of it or not was of no consequence, because he could see it in the way your body was reacting. And nothing was more honest than biology.
He pulled back, gazing down at your panting, heated form as you seemed to try to compose yourself enough to speak.
"I-I don't…Understand…" you managed to whimper out. He leaned in again, and this time you didn't shy away. You didn't have the strength for it.
"If you won't say it…then touch me instead." He said, looking down at you.
You didn't know what to make of this or what he was saying, or why. But…if there was one thing you knew you shouldn't do, it was disobeying at a time like this. Slowly, you reached up and carefully caressed the side of his face. The cold porcelain was smooth save for the cracks near his eye…which your thumb subconsciously grazed almost tenderly. To you, you were just doing as you were told. Touching him the way he asked you…
To him, you were giving him everything. The warmth of your hand as it spread along his face. The gentle brush of your thumb, he could feel it all. It was all for him. Only him.
He needed to make sure it stayed that way.
He dipped down suddenly, and before you could even begin to realize what was happening, you felt that thick tongue slide directly against you. His head between your legs, lapping at the most delicate part of your body. Your back arched, head thrown back as you quickly became overwhelmed by such a sensation. It was terrifying…and thrilling.
Moan after shuddering moan spilled out of you, and you became lost to everything. You were babbling now, not a single sense in you to even know what you were saying. But the Prototype latched onto every word. Between the moans and cries and the gibberish mess of articulation, he latched onto what few words you managed to successfully speak.
It was the praise that got him. That made him nearly short circuit. He was determined to mark you as deep as his tongue could go, and the way you seemed to twitch and tighten around his unnatural appandage only fueled that hunger more.
And then something marvelously unexpected happened.
You cried out, tensing up and reaching down to grasp at the fabric of his cap, the bells jingling away at the sudden tugging. Your thighs clamped down around his head, subconsciously trying to force him down and keep him there. He let you. Because as he observed your reaction he was in awe. This was by far the most intriguing sight he'd ever seen. Perfect…even.
He remained like this for a while, watching as the tremors in your body lessened and your climax subsided. Until you were rendered nothing more than a limp, panting and exhausted mess beneath him. He pulled back, his tongue sliding out and spilling the absolute mess of juices that had come out of you all over your legs and the floor.
Your gaze was bleary, on the verge of passing out…but you felt something cold against your cheek. Those hands that killed, that could slice and shatter and maime, gently grazed the heated skin of your cheek.
He used the back of his hand, an act far gentler than anything he's ever shown. And then, your smaller, much more fragile hand came up and gently took his. No fear. No shaking. Just soft and welcoming. And then he saw it. The soft smile you gave him…
And then you spoke, in a soft raw voice.
"Oliver…Don't Go…"
He watched as you lost consciousness. He caught your hand before it went fully limp, careful not to hold it too hard or slice it.
"…I will never leave you, Pet…and you will never leave me…"
He scooped you up after that, unhooked the chain off your collar. He had no intention of parting from you. And he wasn't going to let anything or anyone take you from him either. Not the other toys, not any intruder…not even you.
He will make sure you never desire to leave him again.
