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jaiwritesthings · 10 months ago

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ᥫ᭡ Ghost love ᥫ᭡

Pairing: fem! Reader x bf! Huening kai

Genre: angst

Warnings: angst, sad, mentions of sex but no smut, hopeful near the end (?)

Summary: You alienate everyone around you, including your boyfriend, who continually forgives you. However, he eventually realizes that he can't stay with someone who is so destructive.

Wc: 1k

You and Kai were the breakup-makeup couple in your high school. One day, you were making out in the middle of the hallway, all loved up, and the next, you were rolling your eyes at each other, passing by coldly. It was usually you who started the arguments and broke things up. It was easy to say goodbye, so easy to push him away. He was good for you, too good, and it scared you. You didn't know when he'd wise up and leave, so you always did it first. And he always came back, making sure everything was alright after a few days. Kai was your crutch, your other wing.

This habit was taking its toll on both of you, exhausting you with the heartbreak and the makeup sex. He always watched you walk away in tears despite bringing it upon yourself by questioning his every move and text. You were paranoid that he was dating you on a fluke or dare. This time was the last. Kai was tired of all the drama, of all the breakups and makeups, and he told you as much.

"If you walk away this time, Y/N, it'll be for good. I can't handle seeing you like this anymore, and I won't keep beating myself up trying to get back in your good graces. Dating you feels like walking on eggshells," he said, revealing his true feelings from the past months.

You couldn't stand it. It was the moment you dreaded, seeing that he was over you, that he didn't love you anymore. He realized you weren't enough, and now he wanted nothing to do with you.

"I can't believe you're doing this... I was right," you said, stress making you press your nails deeply into your palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks. You were close to drawing blood, but it didn't get that far.

"You're the one who thinks I want our music teacher just because I spend extra time in the music room. You always want to fight, and it's always over nothing. I can't stand it anymore," he said, exasperated. It broke his heart to see you so shattered, but he couldn't live like this anymore. He couldn't keep blaming himself for things that weren't his fault. He was the older one, and he needed to stand his ground.

You were close to tears. He saw what you truly were: undeserving.

"Well fine then, if you don't want me so bad, then goodbye, Kai!" you screamed, turning on your heel and speeding off, far away from the confrontation.

It had been months since the breakup, and you were deteriorating fast. Not showering, not eating, not going to school often, hanging out with different people every few days to feel a sense of connection, then spazzing out on them, causing a rift. You were in need of Kai's calm words, his worried glance, but you never got that. You only got his cold shoulder whenever you passed each other in the hallways on the few days you actually went to school.

You were ruining your present and definitely your future, and Kai could see it. As much as it hurt him, he had to stay true to his words or the cycle would continue. If he begged for you back now, you'd just find something else to complain about and break up again. You had to learn to be alone and fly by yourself. He couldn't help you anymore. He knew you secretly wanted him too, like always, but he didn't.

He had to worry about his own life, his own friends, and his future, and he couldn't do that if he was always worrying about you and how you'd react to this and that. He tried to tell himself over and over that he was over you and that you were toxic, but no matter how many people approached him with promises of never being like the "psycho bitch" he dated, he always rejected them. You were his one, his true love, and although he couldn't be with you for your own good, he still saw you as such.

He spent more time focusing on his music. He truly wanted to be a singer; it had been his dream since he was young. But he never really pursued it despite his talent because you mentioned how jealous you would get if he got groupies and fans.

You were unhinged, and while that made for a good time and a lot of risky, good sex, it was not good for a future partner or girlfriend. You had to grow up.

By senior year, you finally got the help you desperately needed and began to turn your life around. You attended school regularly, though the loneliness of having no friends lingered. Despite this, you held onto the hope that college would offer a fresh start. There, no one would know your past, and you hadn't burned any bridges yet.

Kai watched from a distance as you grew happier and more approachable. Although he never talked to you or suggested getting back together, he observed your progress. Kai believed that rekindling an old relationship might hinder your newfound growth, so he kept his distance. After years of secretly glancing your way and keeping tabs on your well-being, he finally moved on when he went away for college.

When the time for college applications came for you, you applied to schools far from your small town. You craved new friends, new faces, and a new environment. You were determined to reinvent yourself, shedding the image of the "psycho chick" who used to lash out unpredictably.

Kai settled into his new college life well. It was sophomore year for him so he’s made new friends, made a YouTube channel for his music, and found someone he enjoyed flirting with and might consider dating. He was content with his life. All of his newfound peace almost came crashing down when he saw a cute freshman asking one of his friends for directions.

"Y/N?" he said, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape.

You looked up and saw the handsome boy you once were convinced would be your forever, and you almost fainted.

"What are you doing here?" The words flew out of your mouth before you could process them. You quickly shut your mouth after they escaped and ran up to him, past his friend.

"I'm sorry, I mean... hi Kai, nice seeing you again," you said nervously, extending your hand.

"Nice seeing you too, Y/N," Kai replied with a smile, shaking your hand lightly.

His friend approached, throwing an arm around Kai's neck. "You know this cute freshman? Introduce me, Kai." "Yeah, when pigs fly," Kai said with a chuckle, gently guiding his friend past you. As they walked away, Kai glanced back and mouthed, "See you later," making you smile.

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jaiwritesthings · 10 months ago

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A N I M A L

under the cut: dubcon/noncon, implied sexual assault (both empty hints and accomplished), knife use, knife…play?, murder, snuff, extreme violence, gun use, burglary, home invasion, fear, coercion, cult like ideology, BLOOD, SO MUCH BLOOD, gore, forced orgasm, creampie. other things maybe i probably forgot, but at this point if you’re gunna read you won’t mind tbh be real, now

…

“Hurry up. Head down - yeah, down that way. The door. We gotta get down there.”

Kappa hustles you along in the dark, the only light coming from the open curtains on the kitchen window. It’s just the two of you this time - at least when it’s the entire group, it feels less… weighed on your conscience. More people carrying the responsibility, the risk of punishment. More hands and eyes sifting through a stranger’s home, trying to prize any money or valuables, sometimes food.

Kappa hovers behind you like a shadow, hair tangled and wild. His eyes shine in the dark and look otherworldly like that, wide and glassy, pupils dilated. He nods impatiently at the door and waits for you to make the first move. It isn’t fear - Kappa fears nothing. He’s the most insane person you’ve ever met, a stranger to nothing and an expert in everything.

It’s not really your bag - not really. Kappa goes on a lot about the way things are, the changing of the times and tides. The brewing war between living things and technology, between Man and Machine. It’s easy to tune in and out at will as you all smoke together, drink together, sleep together in big, sweaty piles. The comforting smell of a warm human, the gentle openness between bodies. Everyone feels safe… except Kappa. Safe when he wants, dangerous when he wants. Whatever he wants. It’s the only real unspoken rule - Kappa knows best.

“Delta,” he hisses. You snap your head around again, craning to face him as your hand hovers before the doorknob. Burglary and theft aren’t really your thing. It’s less of a morality issue and more of an anxiety. It’s a lot of trouble to break into somebody’s private place and take their things, to slip in and out undetected, especially with the advent of all the technology Kappa lives to ride against. You would never express this to Kappa or any other part of the group, but it’s really technology that fills Kappa’s livelihood, in a way; the constant need to bang against the bars he put himself in, the constant fight against it, his spitting, venomous tirades about values and the inevitable singularity, the loss of humanity.

Delta - the name he bestowed upon you; very recently, in fact. It really started as a place to crash with people you got a kick out of hanging out with. Epsilon used to sell you pot back in the day. Theta and Sigma were always so welcoming and fun to be around at the parties and gatherings you bumped into them at, ready to hold hands, to get fucked up and be silly and maybe a little obnoxious. There’d been a few times back then when you’d kissed them, danced and tasted their smoky, whiskey-flavored tongues at the end of a long night, giggling into each others mouths and pressing each others thighs between each others’ legs. Silly. Fun. Harmless, natural. Just a bunch of open, sauced people kissing. Epsilon laughing, egging it on so he could holler and watch with his glazed eyes, happy to be there to watch.

And Kappa.

Kappa partied, there was no doubt about that then or now - Kappa could hold his liquor, he could speak slowly and hold his focus no matter how stoned or high he got. You’d watched him do it, hypnotize people with his deep-set eyes, his slow, low voice. Pulling them in. Laying a foundation to hook them as he built up to his big conclusions, his fantastical ideas and theories and conspiracies. He was only nuts in the rearview mirror, captivating and convincing up until you’d had a lot of time and space away from him to reflect. Most people passed him off as a weirdo who was chill, a man you could still get along with because he sold killer drugs and had a lot of funny things to say. A magnet. Attractive.

And so when you’d needed a place to crash for a while, it was an invitation from their end. You’d run into Sigma and Theta and bemoaned your issues, your urgent need to find a place and soon before you were left with no options. And they’d extended their hand, practically dragged you to Kappa, eyes glittering in that smoky room, and he’d had the barest hint of an approving smirk before he nodded, eyes on yours. It was the strangest thing, that intoxicating moment of electricity, almost like fear as it had licked at you from the inside out. A flame, a flicker of… what? He’d raked his hair from his face, fingers slim and thick-knuckled. There was a distinct sense there that he’d known exactly the terrain of your thoughts in that moment, where a mind goes to when a beautiful, strange man with long fingers has you captivated and in the palm of his hand. He knew. He knows, even now, glaring at you as all these thoughts pass through the thin membrane over your brain and the electrical impulses therein, waiting for you to grab the fucking knob and turn it.

“Delta.” He repeats the given name, voice registering lower. More dangerous. A warning, a scolding. Delta - a change in quantity, a fourth follower; the highly fertile, triangular patch at the mouth of a powerful river.

He waits, ready to either punish you or watch you obey. And obey, you will. It doesn’t matter much what you do or don’t buy into when it comes to Kappa, his home, his friends, his belief system. What matters to you most is your immediate safety and security, and this is not the moment to defy or test Kappa.

You turn the knob and it makes the most excruciating squeaking sound, the door yawning open like you’re starring in your own horror movie. The stairs to the basement swallowed entirely by the dark, the quiet, a familiar scent like earth and old wood rising up from its hidden depths. Your skin crawls and Kappa nudges you sharply from the back, hustling you to the old steps.

“Kappa, I can’t - I can’t see,” you whisper, gripping the railing like a woman about to tumble to her death. Kappa huffs impatiently and pulls an old flashlight from any number of pockets on his person, thwacking it against his palm before it flickers to life. A shaft of yellowed light illuminates the steps and suddenly it’s a lot less scary as he follows you all the way down.

The basement is finished, and it’s pretty nice. Carpeted, painted an awful but cozy off-white. There’s a small wet bar, a few old barstools lined neatly up against a marbled countertop. Glass shelves glow softly in the dim, not directly illuminated by Kappa’s light. Bottles glimmer, some full, some nearly empty. There’s an impressive display, glasses of different shapes and sizes cluttering the sink in the back.

Kappa starts in on some mission before you wander behind the bar, trying to make out the labels, to hold the hard-to-read drinks to test their weight in your hands. You wrap a few smaller bottles into some scrap cloth in your knapsack, a cinched, crocheted bag that Theta had made by hand. It was a gift, and you went nowhere outside the compound without it. You couldn’t wait to present her with (most) of a bottle of something nicer than the swill everyone picked up from the local liquor store for 15 bucks.

“Delta - come here. C’mon.”

Upon scurrying to Kappa’s light, the both of you stare down at an old black safe. It was the size of a large filing cabinet, old and scuffed. It had both a key lock and a combination lock. As you look over to Kappa, he grins, teeth shining in that dark. On his long index finger, he holds out a ring of keys and swings it around, tossing the keys up to catch them effortlessly in his palm. The jingle of them makes you shiver with excitement, smiling stupidly at him as he smiles back.

“Jackpot,” you whisper.

“No fucking shit. That’s the funny thing about these people, most people - they get safes, but hang their keys on the opposite wall. Scared enough to hide their belongings but stupid enough to hang the keys right next to it, thinking nobody is actually going to come and take their precious things. Now - you know the drill. Act like there’s no time. We’re going to try these keys and take whatever we find, okay? Okay. Start going, I’ll hold the light.”

Your hands shake with excitement as he tosses the ring to you, keys clanking against each other as you kneel. There aren’t many keys - nine or ten, maybe. Not the worst situation. Easy as cake, not a single drop of sweat on your brow as the first three keys fail. Only a few more, only a second longer.

Somewhere in the distance is a familiar sound, but you’re too zeroed in on your task as Kappa provides you with light. Suddenly, Kappa’s swearing under his breath, and before you can think to ask why, the answer becomes clear.

Somebody’s home.

Upstairs, through the floorboards, there’s the unmistakable sound of a door being unlocked and opened. Footsteps make their way around, the voices muffled as they chatter and laugh.

“Fuck. Fuck. Just - just keep trying for a second, quietly. Maybe they won’t come down.”

With shaking hands, you try another few keys, fumbling them just to drop them on the floor. Kappa glares at you and you both freeze, waiting for the inevitable sound of somebody coming down to the basement. It doesn’t come, so you pick the keys back up and the next one slides in, smooth as ever.

Inside the safe is a stack of documents, which Kappa ignores. A billfold holds hundreds in a thick stack, which Kappa pockets immediately. A velvet drawstring pouch has some weight, a peek revealing its bounty as a veritable collection of jewelry. Beside it is a gun. You pocket the pouch as Kappa examines the gun, checks if it’s loaded - it is. You grin as you put the loot in your bag, the thought of poring over the treasure at length with everyone at home bringing a nervous sense of excitement. There isn’t much else, so Kappa tosses the keys inside with a delirious laugh under his breath and swings the door shut, effectively locking it.

“See how they get back in now,” he whispers.

The door to the basement opens.

Kappa all but shoves you to the floor, jerking his chin in the direction of an old loveseat to the side of the room as he flicks the flashlight off. You scramble on your hands and knees behind it, ignoring the ache of the carpet as you drag your knees across it, Kappa crawling over you, his chest against your back. His hair falls over your face and it tickles your nose.

The light flickers on and somebody - a man, it sounds like - yells upstairs asking about drinks. Listening to his footsteps makes you tremble underneath Kappa’s weight, and Kappa snakes his hand over your mouth. Shtthfckup. The words are barely words, barely a whisper, just hissed consonants through his clenched teeth into your ear. It’s a struggle to keep your breath low and slow with all the panic flooding your system. Kappa’s weight is crushing, stealing the little breath you have in the first place, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the lights flip on and a person shuffles around the room. It’s easy to track what’s happening through sound alone, steps and the clinking of glasses, a bottle being pulled from a shelf. Liquid pouring, drinks being stirred. The tension is fucking killing you; the homeowner has been milling about the bar for all of five, maybe ten minutes, but it feels like an agonizing eternity with Kappa’s breath in your ear, his arms caging you underneath him.

Kappa rearranges himself just slightly, and it’s clear that he’s aroused. His breath picks up just slightly in your ear and you shudder, wincing as quietly as you can as he digs his fingers into your cheeks, sensitive to the possibility of you making any noise. Again his voice carries so feather-soft and ominously quiet, a ghost-voice tickling beside your temple: y’makenoise, ’mgunnakillyou.

Dread seems to permeate everything in the room. It’s heavy, pervasive. Suffocating. Kappa shifts a little again and the feeling of his cock getting hard is unmistakable. He’s grinding his hips so softly, so fucking slowly that it’s almost imperceptible.

Almost.

“Honey, do you - do you want ice, or?” A decidedly male voice calls up the stairs, humming as the other voice responds in the positive. He mumbles to himself, almost like a hum - and it is. It takes you only a moment to realize he’s singing to himself, happy to be in his home, pouring a drink for his partner. It pulls at you in a way you hate, a way that’s difficult while his precious belongings are in yours and Kappa’s possession. Guilt. Kappa doesn’t believe in guilt. He believes in doing as you please as long as you’re restoring the natural order of things, and in that order there is an ongoing war between the Weak and the Strong, the Natural and Unnatural. And nature - and strength - are above all. Power is a responsibility, he says. With power comes the necessary and unpleasant decision to uphold Strength, to prevent the Unnatural.

Guilt is weakness. Shame tinges the guilt, knowing Kappa would be upset, displeased, disappointed in you. Knowing that you’re failing him. So you swallow the guilt down, clenching your eyes shut and praying that this guy goes the fuck upstairs again.

“What - what the fuck -”

There is no beat. Kappa rises up from you with a grace and fluidity that surprises you, the man’s own gun pointed in his face. The guy drops the glasses and they shatter on the floor as he puts his hands up, eyes wide, mouth moving and nothing coming out of it but broken stutters. A voice from upstairs calls down, concern floating down over the tense air.

“You tell her you’re just fine,” Kappa instructs, voice low. He puts the safety off, cocks the hammer with a distinct, grinding little click. “Tell her now or I’ll let her find your brains on the wall.”

The man takes a shaky breath and starts speaking, his voice coming out in a faltering whisper before he clears his throat to try again: “I’m okay, hon. Just stay up there.” It comes out a little sharp toward the end. Kappa advances on him, slow steps forward. His smile, teeth bared as he nods.

“Good. Very good.”

You stand from a sitting position, coming up from behind the couch as the man notices you, eyes bouncing frantically between you both. Sweat drips down his face, pale with fear. Both men in the room are breathing heavily, Kappa nearly panting, a bloodhound sniffing meat on the air. His eyes are big, glazed. He licks his lips and there’s a genuine, manic pleasure in his grin. Better than that good coke he gets, better than the rush of stealing. Better than when he cums into your throat with his fingers knotted in your hair. He looks utterly blissed out, nearly drooling with it. His cock is obscenely hard, obvious in his pants. It makes you nauseous. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel a strange exhilaration, some kind of giddiness that you don’t want to feel at all.

The silence in that moment stretches for seemingly forever, until it’s interrupted by the sound of floorboards creaking at the top of the stairs. The man flinches as though struck by electricity, eyes swiveling red and wet toward the staircase. He winces, the pain in his expression achingly clear.

“DON’T COME DOWN,” he bellows, and the sound of his voice makes you flinch in turn. Kappa does nothing, watching only with his strange heightened interest. He barely moves a muscle, gun pointing into the man’s face. There’s a sense of resolve to the man before him as he fixes his eyes on Kappa, a grim acceptance. A finality. “Leave. Call the fucking police, just -”

Kappa clucks his tongue and many things happen at once. He tilts his head and a sheaf of tangled hair falls in his face. He’s overjoyed.

“Big mistake, my friend.”

The pop is so much louder than you could have guessed. A spot just above the man’s left eyebrow peels open, blooms open like some awful flower. Somewhere in the back of his head, a great spout of blood erupts and brings with it chunks of his head. His expression seizes up, brain obliterated, and the signals to control his body blink out.

As he falls to the floor, his partner comes racing down. A middle-aged woman, hands fluttering up to her face as she takes in the scene before her. Kappa points the gun at her and beckons his fingers.

“Too late now. You should have listened to him, you know. Shoulda left while you still could. Now you’re going to have a seat.”

“My - he -”

“He’s dead? Is that what you were going to say?” Kappa smirks, sweeping his hand toward the couch in a grand ushering gesture. “He sure as fuck is, sweetheart. Sit.”

She quivers and sputters, too shocked to do much else as she makes her way to the loveseat. You move away from it as though it’s on fire, scrambling to be beside Kappa where it feels… not safe, but maybe a little less dangerous, somehow. Kappa takes your hand and gives you the gun, wrapping your fingers around it as he keeps it trained on the stranger.

“Point it at her. If she tries anything, kill her.”

“Kappa…” your heart drops out of your body, stomach flipping, and the world seems to waver in front of you like you’re being yanked from your own body, watching yourself hold the gun as he pulls his hands away from it. It feels like a dream, or a nightmare - something you’re watching on TV. “I - I don’t know if… I mean, I can’t… do this,” you whisper. For the first time since the man came downstairs, Kappa looks at you. It takes the rest of your breath away to see him so mindlessly focused. He blinks like he’s never looked at you before, incredulous.

“I have no fucking idea what made you think that you had a choice, Delta.”

You shudder, eyes trained on the woman. Pulse pounding like a roar in your ears, you take a steadying breath and nod, mumbling an apology as he pets your hair, watching you, nodding in approval.

“That’s a good girl. Are you both going to be good girls? Hm?” Kappa strips his shirt off and tosses it on the floor, pulling a buck knife from a pocket. The woman on the loveseat takes in a shuddering sob of a breath and clenches her fists, fingers burying into the fabric of her pants.

“Please d-don’t… don’t make me… do anything,” she begs.

Kappa laughs, making his way to where she sits until his shins run into her knees. She’s practically hyperventilating. Kappa straddles her lap and pushes the tip of the knife into her cheek, dimpling her flesh just below one of her eyes as he sits on her lap, trapping her, knees on either side of her body on the cushions. You stare at the bottoms of his boots and wonder what he’s going to do, a sick lurch in your belly forcing you to swallow a gag.

“You know,” he begins, “there’s no real good or evil. You know? There’s no God, no devil… no right or wrong. There is only nature. Nature persists, nature changes. Nature does, however, have laws - it’s unavoidable. It’s dangerous. Nature doesn’t decide if what it’s doing is good, or if it’s hurtful, or fair. There is no fair. There is only cause and effect. Every action having a reaction.”

She blubbers, chin wobbling as she tries to remain completely still. The gun in your hand feels as though it weighs a million pounds. It feels as though gravity is sucking at you, tempting you to drop the weapon, to sink down into the floor and let it swallow you up, take you away from the situation at hand. Ten minutes ago, you were fantasizing excitedly about sharing jewelry. Now you’re… what? About to shoot a random woman?

“I need money, so I go find it. Your - what? Husband? - interrupts me, and I punished him for doing so. It’s not wrong, it’s opportunistic. I wanted, I took. You refused to listen to his warning, and now you’re here…” he twists the point of the blade until a fat, bright bead of blood expands on her cheek and she whines. “…and now, you’ve seen. And I just cannot allow you to live. Do you understand?”

Words stream from her mouth, tears, snot, big hiccuping breaths as she nears a sort of survival hysteria. Kappa pets her hair and there is a horrific kind of ugliness rising up through your throat, a lump. Jealousy. That Kappa should touch her the same way he touches you. It makes you miserable.

Kappa coos at her, voice so soft and indulgent and disarming. Without any real ceremony, without another word, he rips her head back by the hair and slits the knife across her throat.

It’s worse than the gunshot - she again reaches up, choking and gagging as blood spurts from the gaping wound Kappa’s carved into her, her fingertips slick and confused as she tries in vain to pull herself closed again, to press against it. Like she can survive this. Like she can pull the wound shut and live, like her panicking hands aren’t just stretching it open instead in her haste.

Jets of her blood coat Kappa’s naked chest and he moans, staring into the frayed edges of her slit throat like an oracle. You finally lower the gun, dropping it to the floor as you stand there. Watching. Not knowing what in the fuck you’re supposed to do, now, watching Kappa’s ribs rise and fall with each deep, ecstatic breath, tracing his fingers down his own throat and his gore-coated chest. The sheer amount of blood is staggering. It’s worse than a horror movie, so much worse than you could ever have guessed. How a single person carries so much blood is beyond you.

Kappa turns his head and he’s covered in it. He rises up off the woman as she starts to gurgle, body twitching. The closer he gets, the more you can see the thick, dark blood in his hair, flecked over his face and even in his eyes. It’s so viscous, cooling and gelatinizing on his very body. Horror movies could never do it justice. The real thing is so much worse, so much more. Kappa licks his lips, sucks the blood off his bottom lip.

“Take your pants off,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Take your - y’know what, just - c’mere,” he grunts, and he shoves you to the floor. It hurts, but what hurts more is his strong hands on you as he pins you down, pulls at your clothing until your shirt’s rucked up over your breasts and he has your bottoms down your thighs. The inherent urge is to struggle against him, and it makes him moan. He smells like metal, tastes like pennies as he crushes his lips against yours. His hands are all over your body, slicking blood all over your tits, your ribs, your belly, coming up to hold your by the jaw as he pushes his tongue against yours. He tastes like himself and he doesn’t. His lips are sharp, and it doesn’t take a whole lot of thinking to know he’s pushing her blood to you through your kiss. Her blood is now all over you, in your mouth, up your throat. On your hard nipples.

“Go ahead. Stop me.” His tone is drawn high, almost melodic as he dares you, as he pulls your pants all the way down your kicking legs. You land a kick to his body - it’s hard to place exactly where when you’re panicking, breaths coming out in some alien sort of panting. That can’t be you breathing like that, whining like a whipped dog. That can’t be you crawling back against the carpet until it’s near skinning you, landing another foot against the solid force of Kappa. He grunts and keeps moving. Unstoppable. “God, look at you - all animal instinct. I can smell it, how scared you are.”

It’s like moving in a bubble of numb panic. The kicks land, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to try pushing, not at this point; he overtakes you, flipping you forcefully onto your belly like a snake. Kappa makes these ragged sounds, ripped from his throat like he’d ripped open her throat. In the background, the ghost of her physical body is still jerking, nerves misfiring, muscles responding to the final dying synapses in her brain. Kappa pulls your hips up to him and hums, pushing his strong thighs between your own to hold them open.

“You get off on this?” He asks, and there’s a hint of a laugh in his voice. He pushes fingers inside of you and it becomes obvious - you’re wet. Whether it’s some kind of panic response, or your hopeless attraction to Kappa, you have zero idea. Shame rocks you into some paralyzed sort of limbo, becoming pliable to him as he unzips his pants, and then his cock is nudging, rubbing. “You’re my animal. Deep down - mm, deeeep down - you know exactly what’s good for you, don’t you, my fucked up little thing?”

“Fuck you, Kappa,” you spit. It sounds pathetic. Wavering. “I fucking hate you, how could - how did you -”

Kappa drives his cock into you with a force that steals your breath. He rears back and pounds into you again, even deeper, and you shriek with the sharpness of his invasion.

“Good girl. Be angry. Be so alive.”

Kappa grunts and growls like an animal, himself, fingers digging painfully into the flesh of your hips as he fucks you. He’s never been so hard, so brutal with you before. Rough, sure. Teasing with threats, being borderline sadistic in a small way. Tracing his knife on you, cutting you sometimes. Biting. Groping. But this is an entirely different experience; he fucks you like he might try to push his cock up through your organs, like he might make you bleed from the force of it alone. Never enough. Kappa can never get enough of anything.

The knife is back - Kappa brings it to your throat, and it’s still sticky and coated in the woman’s blood. You gag and the tears come, resisting him, unable to flail and kick the way you want to. He all but giggles behind you.

“C’mon, sugar. You ‘fraid of me now?” Kappa moans and stills his hips, pressed unbearably deep. It hurts. It feels so good, so utterly full with that delicious pressure that you could grind yourself to completion if you’d wanted to. There’s an endless pulse there, right where the tip of his cock ruts against the soft kiss of your cervix. “That’s a good girl. Good little animal. My fuck-prey.”

“Kappa…” You don’t know what you’re doing anymore. You can’t remember if this is supposed to be fun or not, if you’re supposed to get used to this or not. What it all means. What’s going to happen, what else Kappa might do. How dangerous and unhinged he really is, just as much an animal as he claims.

The blade’s edge stays trained on your throat as he picks up the pace again. He’s getting close, you can tell - his cock engorges inside of you, stretching that much more. His grunts melt off into soft, keening whines at the edge of his gasping, arms shaking.

“Maybe I’ll slit your throat, too,” he rambles, chasing his release. “Tell you what, Delta - if you cum, I’ll fucking bleed you out below me. I’ll drink the blood right from your broken body and fill you up with my cum. A little - ohhh, fuck, fuck - a little give and take, yeah? Think of it. Imagine - imagine cumming all over me while you bleed out. The most monumental release a creature of flesh could ever have. I could give that to you.”

Words spill from your mouth while he pushes the blade tighter, and you have to do a sort of stretching act to keep from pushing against it. The knife presses enough, shakes enough that you can feel it break the skin. You beg, plead, demand, repeat his name over and over like you can recapture his sanity with your desperation.

Finally, he tosses the knife aside. His strong arm wraps around your throat and he flexes his bicep, cutting off your breath. Words come now in panicked, whistling whispers - Kappa, no, please. Your cunt contracts as the oxygen stops coming in, clawing against his arm, digging your nails in and kicking your legs. Kappa’s unrelenting, moaning into your ear as he abuses your pussy, skin slapping on skin.

“Let me have you, Delta. All mine. Be good, be good.”

There’s a thrill in your belly, some electric stab that rushes you to orgasm and also alerts your brain - breathe! - but you have no choice but to sink into that soft, warm static, unable to scream while climax crashes through you. A solid, rippling wave of compressed heat explodes in your cunt, clamping against his cock (Kappa audibly gasps, moans as your body responds without his permission), and it chases through you from toes to the tip of your nose. Everything is hot, fuzzy throbbing, the edges of your vision giving out. When you close your eyes, it’s almost like watching pixels burn out on a screen. Relaxing. Giving in to it. It’s okay, really - shutting down. Maybe he was right. maybe this is the way to go, coasting on the edge of completion in every way at once. Kappa does care about you - isn’t this proof? That he could gift you this, the ultimate human experience. It’s okay. It’s -

…

Dark.

Sound comes first. Murmurs, muffled and far away. Pinpricks of light dance in the big, open dark. Warm. Movement… sensation.

This is - what is this?

Does it matter?

Unpleasant things come, then - ache, pain. Sharpness. Cold seeps in, the sounds coming into focus, and the realization that you can see. You can open your eyes, head aching against the light and influx of stimulation. God, you’re sore.

“Delta,” a voice urges. “Delta. Delta, hey!”

It’s Theta. Her bright, hopeful face, right in yours. She grins, clapping, and you recoil from the sound. Your throat fucking hurts. Things trickle back slow at first, and then you’re slammed with everything at once - the safe, the house. The couple. Kappa. The blood, all the fucking blood -

“Ka-… Kappa, is… am I… dead? Am I - where’s Kappa?”

Kappa comes into view, smirking. Looking down on you, hair so long and curly and dark. Light like an halo behind him, eyes soft and sharp all at once.

“Delta,” he says. He’s still a mess, painted in old, browned blood. The faces around him - Sigma, Theta, Epsilon - they’re a veritable mix of worry, of delight as you wake up. Kappa being covered in gore doesn’t seem to bother a single one at first glance - in fact, as you’re coming to, you silently watch Epsilon run his finger over the crusted blood on Kappa’s shoulder and laugh. Kappa’s lips are a generous curl of derision, of pride and glowing power. He reaches down and frames your face with his strong hands, one thumb tracing your mouth. He laughs under his breath as though in relief to your safety, to your regained consciousness. In front of everyone, in front of your whole world, a group of people who you consider family, you watch his eyes darken again, filled with something more sinister than relief; the joy of having it all. Having gotten away with murder, with using you as a plaything - with knowing how much you enjoyed it. Knowing that you took his cock and were going to die for him, knowing you pushed through… just like… like an -

“Animal.” Kappa beams down to you, pupils still wide enough to eat worlds in their shining, impossibly dark depths. “Welcome back, little animal.”

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