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lightlycareless · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER 34 HAS ME RUNNING IN CIRCLES CLAWING AT THE WALLS LOSING MY MIND,,, HELLO?? HELLO??? naoya just absolutely losing his mind writhing in emotional pain,, incredible stuff i agree w the staff. it is exactly like a car crash and i can not take my eyes away. hes so cringefail mariya. girlbossing standing in between the two of them... very strong of her. i talk a lot of shit abt naoya but i hate conflict and i'd probably start shaking and crying if i had to deal with him so mariya being able to just put herself right in the middle of all that and act totally normal about it is VERY impressive. props to y/n too for acting so normally too-- either that or naoyas just extremely oblivious to body language and emotional cues and doesn't notice them freaking the fuck out. 50/50

naoya detective arc,,,, it would be charming of him if he weren't so deranged. in fact its KINDA terrifying how incredibly focused and driven he was to figure everything out no matter how far back he had to trace it. like-- it'd be INSANELY hard to hide anything from him unless absolutely everyone involved in it was able to be IN on it and know how to keep up a lie to him. kinda fucked!

tho on the detective arc part-- it makes perfect sense for HIS deranged ass to immediately jump to the worst conclusion that y/n lied to him, despite the fact i imagine its still possible the package could've been stolen from inside the estate by one of the staff? as in, the worker got the wolf stamp, but it could've been jumbled up or stolen after entering the estate. not like he's thinking that far ahead tho,,,

FINALLY he sees her w naoaki and we get a whole-ass confrontation-- im going NUTS here this was SO intense. naoya's arc here plays on one of my FAVORITE villain tropes, the 'villain who genuinely doesn't realize he's done anything wrong'. those are always so good but rarely do we get the moments of said villain realizing how badly he's fucked up im SO excited for how this is going

the way naoya is genuinely sure he's not done anything wrong and doesn't realize how badly he's hurt her vs. naoaki thinking he's just pretending to be oblivious to get out of consequences- DELICIOUS STUFF. naoaki pulling the "because you *love* her?" in whats probably intended to be a mocking way and then realizing "oh shit. he does actually. oh this is a fucking mess isn't it" and feeling kind of guilty about it... is it weird i want them to make up at some point too in all of this? god knows naoya needs some fucking friends (besides ranta)

"Naoya doesn't... *can't* care for me... because he doesn't care for anyone but himself." Y/N WITH THE STEEL CHAIR,, FROM THE TOP ROPE,, might as well have just shot him. definitely did the equivalent of knocking him unconscious considering he apparently doesn't remember anything that happened afterwards. i like to imagine he just dropped unconscious right on the spot and they just left him there.

the dream sequence part KILLED me i genuinely believed up until maybe midway through this was real. ALSO HE CALLED HIM BROTHER,,, my onii-san joke rings true,, at the funniest possible fucking time,, wish he'd say it outside of a dream,, the y/n sneering at naoya and laughing at him was i think what gave it away-- i was willing to believe her and naoki went off to finally fuck after all that but sry y/n i do NOT believe you're willing to make fun of him that hard to his face yet. yet. i think you should though some time

but fr this WHOLEE dream sequence is soo important to his character its so good at illustrating the fear of failure and rejection and abandonment-- they're SO crippling for him to such a degree he ends up making it worse on himself and making this fucked up self-fulfilling cycle houghhh its so much,,

naoaki getting woken up in the middle of the night to naoya slamming into his room demanding to know where y/n is-- i NEED to know what he thought in that moment he mustve thought naoya's gone fucking insane esp when he just LEAVES right after without explaining anything

and then y/n probably thought she was gonna fucking die when he just showed up out of nowhere. actual jumpscare moment. also her being intrigued by just how disheveled and awful he looks? me too.

WHAT WAS HE GONNA TELL HER. IM WAILING AND CRYING DID HE EVEN HAVE ANYTHING HE WANTED TO SAY OR WAS HE JUST DESPERATELY TRYING TO GET HER TO STAY,, AUGH,, depending how loudly he collapsed to the floor and loud his crying was i wonder if y/n were able to hear him?? i think she should definitely see him crying at least once-- i wonder how she (or naoaki) would even handle him just breaking down into tears,,

ohmygod i wrote. a lot here. anyways. 20/10 chapter. im chewing on him. tysm for these incredible developments im foaming at the mouth to see whats next

Hello!!!!!

YEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS JUST EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED HAHAHAHAH I THRIVE IN OTHER'S ANGUISH.... lol.

Ahem, anyways... 🤭 I'm glad you liked this chapter!!! This has to be up there, in my top 10 moments of the story (we still have others though... but yeah, still up there) and the one I was dying to write for the longest. I don't know if it was enough "punishment" for Naoya, but it's good to see him be reminded of his stupidity :)

His downfall is something that I think many were expecting tbh, or at least see him get kicked down a notch lol He was out there thinking himself to be the king of the hill for far too long, someone had to remind him he’s not that special 😂

I’m pretty sure the staff’s perception of Y/N changed drastically once again, into a more positive I mean. They’re out there admiring how she was able to do what many couldn’t and can’t help but wonder if she has the potential to ruin the Zen’in if she wanted to—of course, that stops when Naobito is added into the equation, but they still like to daydream about it haha.

Mariya is a character I would consider 100% fed up with Naoya’s (or just about anyone from the clan) shenanigans, so that makes it easier for her to stand up to him, although I’m sure she’s still intimidated by him. Thankfully her extensive knowledge of how everything works around the estate helps her out in these situations, it’s kind of like a… “gray area” for her to exploit—something she can use if she ever gets in trouble with Junko or Meiko for example, she can easily say “I was just doing what was requested of me” and they’d be like “unnnghhhh I guess!!”

Besides, she has job security in the sense that Meiko considers her to be the best worker there (after her, obviously lmao) so she wouldn’t dare lose the order Mariya provides; because she’ll whine and cry about it, enough for Naobito to intervene, making him wonder why she was fired, forcing Meiko to say “well, because Naoya–“ and yeah, I don’t think anyone to be in that situation hahaha so she’s safe.

I’d say Naoya is greatly oblivious to body language when it comes to… socializing? Cause he’s great when it comes to analyzing targets in a jujutsu environment, but even then, I think he’d still be somewhat bad compared to others 😂 he's the kind of person that believes brute force overrules everything else, so he shouldn't worry about those menial details. (Kind of like Endeavor from MHA? Like he's a great hero, but in the sense of crime fighting, he didn't really care about making a fan base or anything else really... OUTSIDE OF SHOTO OF COURSE)

And because Y/N has always been “coy” when he’s around, he doesn’t think much of it outside of being normal behavior from her, so yeah, he didn't get any sense of "something's going on" when she acted the way she did.

Naoya being derange isn’t a surprise to anyone at this point 😭 I’m telling you, he does things that under any normal context it would’ve been sweet, but since he’s… him, it’s not lmao. I can’t imagine how terrified Y/N was upon hearing he went all the way down to the post office just to find out what happened with his gift. He’s determined, that’s for sure, and it makes her wonder what other things he's done already—although at that moment, at the same time she was hoping she’d be able to escape this situation… well, alive, she was mostly worried that her letters might be uncovered too. Thankfully Naoya was focused on something else 💀

And yep, the way he jumped into conclusions was eerie, but I think it was because deep inside him, he knew that was what actually happened. He had enough of bad history with his wife to know that she, more likely than not, discarded his gifts. Did he ever wonder why? No. Would he dare to ask? I don’t think so. And even if he did, would he understand? I think he’d feel offended if anything, more so when Naoaki’s gestures had been happily received. Oof.

Maybe if he wasn’t so paranoid (or heart broken, let’s be real) he might’ve considered someone else from the staff, leading him into another wild goose chase; good, this is revenge for what he put Hinata through.

I’m glad you liked the confrontation!!! It was above everything, awkward, cause there’s no actual confrontation coming from Naoya if that makes sense? Like he’s not open to actual conversations, he just wants to know the why of certain things, and if it fits his ideals, good, if not, God help us.

I definitely believe Naoaki thinks Naoya is so… “isolated” from the real world that he might actually, genuinely not know what he’s doing—can’t blame him, he had Naobito and the rest of the family as guidance lol—but his inability to even consider other possibilities is what always frustrates him 😂 poor Naoaki, he can’t go on with his life without being constantly disappointed by his relatives. (Have Mai and Maki disappointed him too? I wonder...)

My favorite part, and I’ll never stop talking about it hahahah, was when he asked Naoya if he “loved” Y/N aughagaga DAMN the skepticism was there 100% for sureeeeeeeeee, he was hoping to hear his brother say something like “yeah, I do” so he could be like “bullshit!” and continue to take out his frustrations, but the way Naoya remained quiet, looking away almost as if embarrassed!!! Now that’s when he knew there were feelings for her—beneath the complicated layers that make him a monster, Naoya was still capable of harboring sentiments for someone else (Allegedly… all allegedly…) and Naoaki immediately felt bad for putting him on the spot like that. He still cares for his baby brother after all 😭😭😭

I certainly feel bad that their relationship turned into this—I can only wonder what occurred on the manga for Naoya to want them (more) dead lol. If he’s already unhinged at 19, imagine at 27 💀 Ah, but one can dream….

AHAHAHAH Him just spacing out immediately after Y/N said that is, ugh idk satisfying and sad at the same time—like sure I feel sorry that his wife was like “no, you don’t care” and I could’ve had her say something like “ewww” but Y/N isn’t that disrespectful; and come on what was Naoya expecting 😂?? For her to be like “omg I’m so sorry Naoya I should’ve known” please!!! She was appropriate enough to state the truth, that he doesn’t care for anyone but himself, he should’ve just taken it and left them (which he did: I imagine he remained quiet, spacing out as he stared at the two before turning around and disappearing into the hallways. Naoaki and Y/N look at each other, wondering what happened before wondering if he’s going to return. Naoaki tells her no, but that she should be careful nonetheless. Y/N goes with Mariya, tells her staff what went down and collectively decide to keep a low profile—Hitomi offers to keep a lookout on Naoya, only stopping when she overheard that he was in his room and has been for the past few hours. They go on with their day, or attempt to, and that’s when Mariya decides to let them know of her secret hideout)

To irritate Ren, I decided that the song that best fits this scene is this one. And just for a little, tiny part before the chorus and Mel B's part hahahahha. That's the only thing that actually applies to their whole dilemma at this point.

Now, the good part… The dream sequence was the one thing I’ve been wanting to show you for a while now hahah I just kept teasing you about it, and I’m glad it got the reaction it did hahahahhahahhhahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I was 99.9999% sure that most of my readers would immediately catch on to the fact that this was a dream, since I’ve never portrayed Y/N to be that crazy, you know? Like her making fun of Naoya is off the table completely; sure, she’s made some jokes here and there, but they’re always lighthearted—or at least I think that’s the impression one gets when reading them—never off the rails as this dream sequence 💀 leave that to Naohiko lol.

Either way, I tried my best to cover the fact it was a dream, and if someone saw right through it, it still served to show just how messed up Naoya is on an emotional at this moment.

But yeah, this nightmare worked really well ‘cause there was that lingering question of whether Naoaki and Y/N were finally going to do something more… intimate. I feel that if I hadn’t worked their relationship up to that point it would’ve easily been like “nah, this is a dream goodbye” 😈 glad it worked in the end hahahah!!!

Now that it’s mentioned, the scene where Naoaki is disrupted by Naoya is ironically funny—it was so out of the blue first he was like “I sleep” and then Naoya comes into his room to ask the most random question before leaving.

Naoaki for sure thought he made it up—he was worried for Y/N and overworked by all his duties that he was like “Man, I’m even starting to dream about Naoya wtf??” his slumber overtook him almost immediately after; had he not been that exhausted you can be 100% certain he would’ve gone after Naoya.

And I agree—Y/N for sure thought she was going to die at that moment, although it was a fear that quieted down a bit for the sake of her staff’s wellbeing… yet, the thing that surprised her the most was to see Naoya so… disturbed—he’d seen him angry, arrogant, a complete monster… but she’d never seen him so defeated. So yeah, I think she believed she was going to die, but more in a sense of shock of not knowing what the hell was going on.

Now, for your last question… Naoya desperately wanted to keep her there above anything else, but his broken heart also wanted to tell her that he did care for her, at least to some extent, if not then why would he have married her? A mystery for sure. If I had to boil it down to a singular reason, it was him wanting to tell her how much he wants to be with her. Happily, be with her.

(No one heard Naoya cry, outside of Y/N retreating as quickly as possible, I envision him to be a silent crier in a way, not wanting anyone to hear him out of fear of being reprimanded more than shame—Naobito as a father must’ve been really, really tough. And if anyone did hear him, they would’ve never thought it was him to begin with.)

Thank you so much for tuning in for another chapter!! 🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️ I really greatly, enormously enjoy your asks, they give me so much insight about things that sometimes escape my mind!! Kgagagkak I don’t know how to describe it, but they motivate me allot 😭❤️

I can’t wait to show you the rest of the story…. Another…. Specific part I want you to read (well, more than one, but that one is another favorite of mine) hahahahahaaa

Once again, thank you so much for your support 🥺😭❤️ I shall strive to deliver the next chapters to the best of my ability!!!

Take care, and hope to see you soon 🥺❤️

#ask #ask series: first it hurts—#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader

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withonly-sweetheart · 2 months ago

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kita... you've literally done it... how'd u manage to do this <3

Your illusion of control is shattered as the voice breaks out into a laugh, the kind that borders on hysterical as if you’d told such a funny joke they couldn’t hold it back.

ITS AN ILLUSION NOT FOR HER BUT FOR HIM... IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT HE THINKS HES THE SCARY ONE BUT LATER WE REALLY FIND OUT.. erm... NO.

You're about to masturbate in front of some masked stalker that threatened to kill you. What does it matter anymore if you’re afraid or not?

girl... are you insane (UR SO SO REAL FOR THIS ONE LITERALLY I WOULD DO THE EXACT SAME THING FOR LEON because i'd recognize him he'd probably smack into the sliding door before he opened it so...) ugh you're literally so nasty (I LOVE IT)

"Its so fucked up, but you know, this isn't even a deal breaker for me." And at that revelation you laugh, staring into his ice blue eyes like you've just shared an intimate joke.

cause you have... erm... you know that saying "if at first you don't succeed try try again" actually no thats not the right one WTV THERES A SAYING ABT HOW you're supposed to like watch your back or smth idfk.. but like its leon WTVVVV

"That was you?" His tone is critical and you do your best not to bristle, you have to tread carefully now.

CRITICAL?? WDYM CRITICAL ARE YOU ABOUT TO SAY "well erm actually according to my calculations the correct sequence of actions would've gone in the order of" DONT EVEN BRO YOU'D LIKE SCREAM AFTER KILLING SOMEONE GO SIT IN TEH CORNER.

At that he cracks a small smile, eyes glazed over in awe as he stares at you and it makes you preen. He's just like you. A perfect match. Leon doesn't keep you waiting, just as eager and clumsy as he was when you first met and it endears you to him all over again.

just like you... yeah... psycho x psycho makes such a good pairing doesnt it... ugh im desperate for him i need him to get freaky with me he would be SO into knifeplay aeriuweroiuweriopuwerup

kita u r an angel never stop writing u r so creative and ilysm literally u write so sos os os os os soos soos so sooooo well like im not even kidding ughghghghhghh

SLAS(HER) - LEON KENNEDY

SYNOPSIS... ❛ you really shouldn't answer strange phone calls. or leave your doors unlocked. or decide you're going to try turning the tables on a masked intruder with one demand: give him a show or it's your guts on the floor.❜

WARNINGS... creep leon, written with re2r in mind, no outbreak, stalking, voyeurism, guided masturbation, fuck or die, threats of violence, mentions of blood, death and injury, dissociation in a little bit of readers part, home invasion, inspired by ghostface/scream franchise, oral, use of a belt as a restraint

WORD COUNT... 7k+

˗ˏˋ kinktober masterlist ˎˊ˗

It started with an eerie feeling. The nondescript sensation of being watched, by someone just out of reach, just out of sight yet keeping you in theirs from some invisible vantage point. It was something you brushed off through the evening as just a weird vibe because it was Halloween and rather than go out as you’d done in the past you decided to stay home, enjoy the company of your cat and some cheesy slasher flicks they always have running on nearly every channel this time of year.

That feeling could also be motivated by worry for your friend, working Halloween night was always hectic for everyone on duty at the station. You and Leon had been nearly attached at the hip since you met, not long after he arrived in Raccoon City. The details were a bit muddled but you knew he’d been through a rough breakup, started a brand new job, all at once. An overwhelming amount of stress for anyone, and you were a secretary at that very same job he was the fresh faced rookie in all of a year or so ago. In truth you’d been the first to greet him that day, all nervous and eager to impress. It was cute, really.

And from that very first day he always seemed to seek you out, handing you a warm cup of coffee at just the right moments, like he knew you usually ended up with headaches by mid afternoon and relied on the caffeine and excedrin combo to make it until the end of your shift. He was always friendly, not overly gregarious but always there to chat about how your day was, if you needed help with anything. He’d even stayed late one day because your cars battery had been on the fritz, gave you a jump so you could drive home.

A gentleman, through and through, you decided. Soon enough you were dependent on seeing him at least once a day in the cramped old breakroom or coming to loiter by your desk so he could procrastinate his reports (which you would playfully give him shit for later) or else the entire day would feel off, unsatisfying.

All in all, you considered him a friend with some… complicated feelings. You liked him, truly, but knowing he got out of a relationship at the time you met was what gave you pause. You didn’t want to push something that may not be there, after all you might be confusing his nicety for flirtation or just projecting your own attraction. And acting on that, especially if you were right, would be not just humiliating for your ego but would mean you’d lose someone you quickly came to consider a good friend.

So, just like on many previous nights, you resist the urge to text him. To check up, make sure nothing too wild had come in over dispatch. A casual friend wouldn’t do that, would they? Instead you remain stretched out on the couch, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and absentmindedly stroking the sleeping cat on your lap while images your mind doesn’t register flash over the tv screen.

Maybe it would be better to get some sleep. You’d see him tomorrow and could ask about how tonight went for him, you could even bring some of those muffins from the little cafe a few blocks away from the station since most of the officers seem to enjoy them. It’s not weird if its for everyone, technically. Right?

As your mind wanders between how to walk the delicate line between your feelings you fail to realize how heavy your eyes were, how you closed them just for a second, just to take a moment and then you’d get up for bed…

The chime of your phone is what rouses you, blinking bleary, fuzzy eyes into the darkness of your living room.

With a little groan you heave yourself up into a sitting position, your joints popping from being folded in an awkward position as you’d jammed yourself into a corner to curl up in your sleep. Before you can rub your eyes, readjust to consciousness, your phone is blaring like a shrieking car alarm that shatters the quiet nighttime fuge.

With fumbling hands you grab it off the coffee table in front of you, flipping it open and hitting answer without a second thought, body working on auto as your mind catches up.

“Mh, hello?” you ask, tongue feeling thick in your mouth after your sudden reentry into the world of the living.

“Hey there sleeping beauty.”

The tinny, computerized voice startles you, snapping you into full awareness with how alien and threatening it automatically came across,, making the skin of your arms rise with gooseflesh.

“Who is this?” you ask hesitantly, one hand clutching the phone to your ear while the other cast off the rumpled blanket so you could rise from the couch, feeling suddenly vulnerable and restless.

The voice makes a tut tut sound over the line before speaking. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll forgive you since I did wake you up. You look real cute in your sleep though-”

“I’m hanging up, don't call again.” You huff into the receiver, hands shaking as you snap the phone shut, practically throwing it back down on the wooden table as if it were made of molten lava.

Standing you begin to pace, your cat skulking from underneath the table, clearly sharing in your distress as you rake a hand through your hair. Its okay, you reassure yourself, nothing but some bored kid pulling a Halloween prank. They sell those voice changers at all kinds of stores around this time, they probably just dialed random numbers for shits and giggles. Most importantly: no one was actually watching you sleep. Thats impossible, you live alone and no one outside friends or family know where you live.

That last rushed thought snags in your mind and you cautiously pick up the phone, pressing the keys to see the last number in the incoming call log. Not one you have saved, and also not one you recognize anyway. The area code is local, but again that doesn’t mean it’s anything but some kid screwing around.

You exhale long and steady through your nose, feeling your erratic heartbeat slowing down and you shake your head at yourself for being so quick to panic.

Now it’s really time for bed, you decide, scooping up your furball before making your way towards the bedroom, keeping your eyes trained away from the window so you wouldn’t fall into the trap of peeking out of its glass panes in paranoia.

There's nothing and no one there.

Before your cat can even finish stepping from your arms to the bedspread, your phone went off in your hand again, it’s familiar ringtone far less inviting under these circumstances. This time you don’t feel afraid as you angrily flip it open, mashing the answer button.

“I told you not to call again. I don’t care about kids playing pranks, but find someone else to mess with, okay?” Annoyance drips from every word but before you can hang up with a satisfied smirk the voice cuts in.

“Oh but I know you’re fun to play with, sweetheart.”

“Do not call me pet names you freak-”

“What, you don’t like it? I think it fits you, sweetheart for a sweet girl.” It mocks you over the line, making your body flush with heat as your anger and your fear mingle into a noxiously overwhelming combination.

“I work at the police station, quit fucking with me or I’m calling the cops and I know they’ll take it seriously.” You cross your arms, as best you can while still holding the phone. You feel smug, knowing that at least that must spook whoever it is no way they want to potentially deal with the police over a prank call-

Your illusion of control is shattered as the voice breaks out into a laugh, the kind that borders on hysterical as if you’d told such a funny joke they couldn’t hold it back. You bite your lip again, this time giving into the instinct telling you to look out the window, scan the yard outside for any sign that someone was creeping around. But nothing except the faint glow of distant streetlights are reflected back at you.

“Oh no, please don’t call the cops on me!” the voice breaks into giggles again, “I know we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He says your name and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, a million sharp pin pricks that scream for you to stop, leave, run away, do anything to get this to stop.

“How do you know my name?” Your question is barely a whisper.

“I know everything about you. Everything.” The emphasis on the word makes you shiver, tears burning in your waterlines. “But you know what I’m really curious about?”

Your stomach drops but you respond despite yourself, your fingers curling around the phone's little plastic shell so hard you hear it crackling ever so slightly. “What?”

“Do you always keep this sliding door unlocked?”

It feels like your heart fell out of your ass as you break into a run, breathing harshly and hearing that unnerving, electronic laughter once more over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. To your horror the door is ajar, pulled open with the flimsy little curtain blowing in the chill breeze, and you can’t do anything but continue staring even when you know you need to run, you need to do something, anything to get yourself out of this.

Why is this happening to me?

As the details of the world soften at the edges, sliding down and blurring with the tears running down your face you fail to hear someone approaching from behind, fail to register anything at all until a black gloved hand claps over your mouth to muffle your shrieking. You thrash against the muscled chest of your assailant, the grip of their arms feels more like being encased by perfectly molded steel, and as you quickly exhaust yourself you’re half guided half carried back towards your bedroom.

Alarm bells, like emergency sirens, bounce around your head, knowing in some inexplicable way that going into that room will seal your fate. There won’t be any getting out of this, any way to stop what's coming. You honestly don’t know if there ever really was. Regardless, you use up the last bit of adrenaline you have to struggle once more as you’re unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom, the darkness now feeling threatening when it was once relaxing. It’s a valiant effort, you even manage to bite down on his wrist, but it’s still not enough. Even with the bite, all you felt was cloth snagging against your teeth rather than flesh. Whoever it was must be covered head to toe in clothing, completely obscured.

As you’re pushed down on your back against the mattress a worse sight greets you: one of those halloween costume masks staring back, your breath dies in your lungs as you freeze beneath him, feeling the planes of his body through the layers of clothes as he keeps one hand covering your mouth.

Slowly he removes his hand and you can’t help but dissolve into a fresh round of tears.

“Why- why are you doing this?” You can’t help the hitches in your speech as you struggle to remain focused on the man on top of you, the weight of his ribs consuming your awareness as he lies between your legs.

He doesn’t answer you, tilting his head to the side as you shiver below, bile rising in your throat as his hand drifts to caress your jaw, trailing down the sweaty column of your throat. He stops just before your chest, to your shock.

“Don’t worry,” his voice is still masked by that chilling overlay, built into the mask itself clearly. “I’m not gonna lay a hand on you. Well, not like this.” As he speaks he lifts himself off you, sitting back on his knees against the heels of his shoes. “But you’re gonna put on a little show.”

Confusion bullies its way in front of your other more primal emotions, scooting up until your back hits the headboard and you can wrap your arm around your knees, curl inward no matter how futile the attempt at shielding yourself might be.

“Not feeling talkative anymore, huh? That's okay, you don't really have to talk for this anyway.” You swear you can hear the smile in his tone, can tell by the way he shifts his hips that he’s getting off on this, on your fear.

“You’re insane, some kind of freak.” You whisper, voice crackling as you try to hold back sobs.

“Now come on, let's play nice. It doesn’t have to be all bad, sweetheart.” He shifts again, those black, endless voids staring back into your own aching, burning eyes. “It’s simple: you give me what I want, and we can both still have a good time. No harm done.”

Only an objectively insane person would present that like a real option, as if he hadn’t terrorized you in your own home, hadn’t violated your safety, hadn’t manhandled you into compliance.

You sneer at the mask, nearly bearing your teeth like some kind of cornered animal. “Fuck you and fuck your good time.”

His hand moves, significantly faster than your reflexes, and grips your jaw painfully, so tightly you’re afraid he might shatter the bone. “You can be such a shit listener.” It throws you for a loop, hearing him speak like he knows you, and your eyes widen while a whimper spills past your lips. “Theres plenty of time for that later,” his thumb moves to brush back and forth over your bottom lip, a gesture so tender it’s wildly at odds with the present situation. “But right now, you’re gonna give me what I want or else those cops you work with might be cleaning your guts up off the carpet in the morning. And I’d really, really hate for it to end that way.”

In the silence that descends over you both you realize there’s realistically no other way. You can’t overpower him, your phone vanished in the struggle, and even if you could get away, who's to say anyone would believe you needed help? You could be brushed off as just someone with an overly elaborate costume. Despair seeps through your body, oozing thick and sticky as tar, a pitch black loss of hope that could swallow you entirely. You can only pray he’s telling the truth, that once you’ve done what he asked you’ll at least be alive when the sun rises. Whatever consolation that may be.

He sees it, he must, because you notice the way he relaxes ever so slightly before pulling away from you again. You feel both in and beyond the confines of your body as he grabs your ankles, yanking you back down into a lying position, like you’re just a doll that needs posing.

“Good girl.” That electric voice purrs and you can’t help the bodily reaction those words produce in you, tiny shivers quaking down your spine and spreading out over your ribs. Maybe if you pretend it’s someone else that’ll make it easier, at least bearable. His hands feel hot even through the gloves, like he could brand you with imprints of his grip right on your calves.

“The pajamas are cute,” He gestures to the fuzzy pants covered in a cartoon cat pattern and you feel embarrassment curling around the edges of your brain, “but I’m more interested in whats under them.”

It doesn’t shock you, in fact his words produce no reaction in your head. You were already preparing for something like this. With a pathetic whine your arms move mechanically, hesitating as they rest against the waistband of your pants. Point of no return. That's what this is, isn’t it? Would it be better to be gutted in your own bedroom, but at least have your pride intact? No, if you’re dead you’re powerless to prevent anything being done to you after that.

So your thumbs hook in the waistband, pulling them down as your entire body is wracked with tremors so violent you almost lose your grip but with one lift of your hips they’re down past your ass and he's pulling them the rest of the way off, icy mid autumn air kissing the skin of your thighs like a reverent lover. Once those are tossed into some corner of the floor his attention returns to you, grabbing your legs again to position them wide, spread eagle and with a jolt of shame you realize you can feel your clit starting to throb against your underwear at the attention.

“Bet you got a really pretty pussy, huh?” His fingers delicately travel up and down your calves, like hes trying to both soothe you and rile you up. Unfortunately for you, your body seems to welcome the touch, the tremors morphing into a wholly different sort of twitching as you lay there feeling moisture slicking the gusset of your panties.

You close your eyes, steeling yourself to feel his touch moving higher but it never comes, instead it vanishes altogether and you almost whine at the absence. You feel delirious, like you’re quickly losing the thread of your previous conviction, crumbing after just a few gentle touches. It makes you feel weak, disgusted with yourself.

“Ah ah, open your eyes for me. You have to do the work, it’s your show.” He settles back on his knees once more, clearly waiting for you to continue, play your part.

It’s like stage fright, the nervousness you feel with his eyes on you yet wholly beyond your own vision. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated, as a grown woman you’ve confidently explored your body as thoroughly as possible, it’s the fact that a masked stranger is waiting in eager anticipation to watch your fingers dive into your cunt.

But it’s also oddly… thrilling. Your heads all fucked up from the mixed singles between body and brain, like you fell in water and aren’t able to properly orient yourself right side up but maybe it would be easier to give in, accept it at this stage. It’s already progressed this far, right?

Maybe it is my show.

You feel light, somehow untethered as your breathing settles down, one hand running over the peaks of your breasts and down your stomach, creeping towards the waistband of your underwear. As your fingers toy with the elastic your eyes never stray from the mask, watching as his hips adjust again. It’s flattering in its own messed up way, that in this situation you do hold a particular kind of power over him. Your teeth snag against your lip as you tug the silky pair down, painfully slow, just to torture him a little bit. And you would be the biggest liar on earth if you were to say it didn’t inflate your ego like a helium balloon when you heard his sharp inhale as more of your pussy came into his view.

“Oh shit,” he says and you laugh, despite yourself you do, dissolving into barely contained giggles.

“What, are you a psychotic virgin or something?” you tease, forgetting momentarily that he very well could make good on his threat of spilling your organs across the floor a la Jack the Ripper.

“Look who's enjoying herself now, huh?”

You laugh again, at the naked absurdity of it all this time. You're about to masturbate in front of some masked stalker that threatened to kill you. What does it matter anymore if you’re afraid or not?

Your shaky laugh dips off into a soft moan as your fingers brush through your folds, finding them slick and your hips jerk as your index bumps against your clit, sensitive and needy. Under normal circumstances maybe you’d take a little more time but a part of you does want this over with as soon as possible. You just hope you’re able to come, because that’s probably part of what he wants to see.

But it’s better to not focus on it too hard or else you probably won't be able to, so you decide to veer in a different direction, wield a little more of this newfound power over the situation.

“Why can’t I hear your voice?” You ask, making your voice as sugary as possible, letting your lips stay parted as you rub slow, loose circles over your clit. His eyes have to be devouring the sight, you’re sure of it, but to make sure you adjust your hips a bit so they’re as wide as you can accommodate.

He doesn’t answer you, but you remain undeterred. “I could probably come if I heard you.”

“Don’t tease so much.” He tries, and fails, to sound firm but you hear the crack in his voice regardless of the masks alteration. You’re wearing him down, at least a little bit.

“Don’t you wanna watch me come?” Your other hand comes up to squeeze and grope at your clothed chest as you gently swirl two fingers around your entrance before slowly pushing in, your mouth dropping open in a silent keel. The only sound in the bedroom outside your own heavy breathing is the soft, sticky squelching of your fingers curling against slick walls, plunging in and out of yourself at a languid pace.

“Fuck, yeah I do.” The fake voice carries with it an honest tone of wonder, of bare and dangerous craving.

“Want you to touch me,” you gasp out, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. “Please.” You can see how hard he is, the black tactical pants doing absolutely nothing to hide the full erection he's clearly sporting because of you.

And it works, you know it’s working, that he must be doing some kind of cost benefit analysis of it all in his head without realizing you’re laying the foundations of a sort of psychosexual coup. Without a word he climbs off the bed and your self ministrations halt, curiosity and a twinge of that fear return as you watch him unlace heavy dark boots, letting them thump against your carpet, before you watch with wide eyes as he undoes his belt, painfully slow.

It’s obvious he’s well built, you could feel that when he had you locked in his hold earlier, but as you catch a glimpse of his lower abdomen as he strips off the dark, heavy material you find yourself struggling to keep a hold of your sanity. Before you can even think to yourself, god he must be huge, you’re getting a perfect eyefull of him as his cock springs free from the confines of his boxers. Painfully girthy, just the sight makes your eyes water all over again, and hit cut tip was flushed a pretty shade of blush pink, shiny with smeared precum and you can’t help but think of how much it sucks that a dick like that is attached to a guy like this. It's a shame, really.

Either way, you’re glad to have given yourself some prep via your little “show” for him. As long as he doesn't say something like-

"Put your arms up, above your head."

You don't let on that you've got anything in your head besides fear tinged lust, obediently raising your arms up and making sure your wrists are together so he can loop the belt around. It'll be easier if he truly believes you're beaten down, pliant, rather than frantically flipping through a mental index of potential options. You weren't totally screwed even with your arms bound. With any luck, he'll tie it loose without realizing and you could slip the belt at the perfect opportunity.

But you panic, far too early, and grab the leather strap as soon as it's in reach. Of course he anticipated it, but didn't predict you'd have some renewed energy after your previous adrenaline crash so he doesn't quite block you from it in time. Or rather, he doesn't block your hand that comes down on the mask in your mixed tangle of limbs, knocking it askew and in a snap decision you yank it off revealing blonde strands and a pair of shockingly, stomach churningly familiar blue eyes.

The world holds still. More accurately, it's like a miniature atomic bomb has detonated in your home, only instead of blowing out windows and collapsing the roof it brings your racing mind and overactive nervous system to a screeching halt.

As you both breathe heavily neither of you moves a muscle, not even by one miniscule inch. With all the speed of a drop of pitch landing in a dish you feel your features twist, your hands shake so badly with anger, with disbelief. With want.

"You know I was thinking about you, before I fell asleep?" You say, barely audible but you know he hears by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. "I was thinking about how god, you're just so nice and what if I was confusing that for something romantic?"

Your hands move as you speak, coming to cradle his face in your hands, moving in until the tip of your nose is almost touching his. You can hear the way he swallows, hard and thick, his entire body as tense as a live wire in your grasp.

"Its so fucked up, but you know, this isn't even a deal breaker for me." And at that revelation you laugh, staring into his ice blue eyes like you've just shared an intimate joke. "You said you know everything," you pull the word out, like it's stuck between your teeth, "well, there are some things about me no one knows."

Smiling now, you feel more whole and in control then you have all night and it's reflected in your movements all lithe and predatory as you straddle him, feeling the head of his still semi hard cock brush against your cunt. That sends satisfaction licking, white hot, down your back and you can feel yourself getting wet again. The truth feels fizzy, tight, in your chest as if you swallowed a baby bird that was now frantically beating its wings against the cage of your stomach.

"I'll tell you this, and we can call it even, okay?" You stare into his eyes again, hunting for anxiety or trepidation, but find none.

"Okay." He says it slow, distrustful. Well, you'll see in a moment how trustworthy your little crush really is.

"I know you were there, on scene, with some of those bodies they found in the forest out by the lake last Halloween?" He nods and you continue. "Mhm, that last girl? A screamer. God it was horrible, she just wouldn't shut the hell up. Finally I just ended up jamming the handle of the axe right in her mouth. Have you ever heard a jawbone splinter?"

"That was you?" His tone is critical and you do your best not to bristle, you have to tread carefully now.

You nod. "It was. It's a bit of a... Family tradition, basically. All those disappearances every so often, always on Halloween? They weren't all me, that'd be impossible, but I did learn from the best." You smile at him again, tasting fresh blood in your mouth as you brush a stray bit of hair from his face.

To your surprise he follows your touch, like he's chasing after it, and you're nearly overcome with giddiness. Is this what they mean when they say that people feel lighter after telling the truth?

"Are you gonna kill me?" This time it's his turn to wonder, to ask in that adorably nervous tone they all do. The same one that gets you unbelievably wound up, a spring loaded bearing just waiting to snap.

You giggle again, all sugar and syrupy sweetness. "Of course not, I really do like you, you know. That's not a lie or a trick."

To emphasize it you push yourself down a little, just enough that you can fully feel him pressing against your soaked pussy, and enough to feel that he's unbelievably hard. It's enough to make you feel dizzy, lightheaded. You genuinely believed there was never, would never, be anyone who really understood you. And more than that: could love you regardless.

"Y'know, we can still put that belt to use... If you want." Your lips ghost over his as you whisper it, and you can hear his breathing freeze in his throat.

"You still up for that?" He sounds both incredulous and horny, hands running up and down your sides, bunching your top up until you reach down, pulling it over your head to be cast into the abyss with your other clothes with a grin.

"No mask this time, I wanna see you." You coo at him, clambering off his lap to stretch out on your back against the bed.

His lips capture yours in a kiss full of heat, like opening an oven door only to be blasted in the face with searing air, and your teeth clack together as your tongues slip serpentine over and under one another. By the time he pulls away to trail spit slick kisses down your throat you feel that ache coming back into your clit full force.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders and tugging at the shirt he still had on, desperate for full skin to skin contact. Luckily he obliges your neediness quickly, yanking the offending cotton barricade over his head and adding it to the forlorn pile.

With a shy smile he grabs for the forgotten belt and you once more obediently raise your arms above your head, this time with no ulterior motives than the selfish anticipation of pleasure. You do make a mental note however to ask how he feels about asphyxiation later.

As the leather settles against your skin you give a few light, experimental tugs, gasping when you feel his lips travel across your chest, between your breasts, and over the plane of your stomach until hes scooting back, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs and causing a fresh round of goosebumps to rise over your arms.

You can't help but squirm as he kisses the side of your knee, your thigh, coming so so close to where you want him but then veering to give the other leg the same treatment.

"I should have figured you're, ah, a huge tease." You barely get the words out as his tongue flicks, light and gentle between your folds.

After that one taste the man between your legs transforms in some way you can't identify, like some new neural pathway was unlocked the moment his tongue touched you and his arms hook around your thighs, fingers digging so harshly into the flesh you can feel the sting of his nails threatening to break the surface and he sucks in your clit with abandon.

You can't help the way your mouth drops open in a silent wail, hips lifting up from the bed as if you're trying to make sure he doesn't let up for even a second but you don't have to worry, the slurping and suckling noises crowding your bedroom emphasize just how focused he is on lavishing you.

It's unlike anything you've ever had before, the feeling of his mouth overpowers your other senses, leaves no room in your head for anything except him, him, him. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling less than gently on his silken locks, but it doesn't deter him or even slightly distract him.

The pressure in your abdomen quickly builds to catastrophic levels, and his name is ripped violently from your throat in a primal wail as your hips grind against his face, the burn in your legs coming from both the overextended muscles and the fact that his nails have broken skin, little beads of bright crimson dotting the surface.

Pain and pleasure in equal parts, to you that is bliss of the highest order. And finally, like a gift fallen from the sky right into your lap, there's someone who might understand that.

As you come down from your orgasm visions of blue eyes, bloodied floors, a boyish grin, and steaming viscera blend behind your eyes and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

#kita <3 #leon kennedy #fic rec #tw blood #leon kennedy smut #blood tw

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