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teddybeartoji · 2 months

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THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

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gundawifey · 2 months

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖! 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥 ℙ𝕪𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕

Pyramid Head x Gn! Reader !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Yandere Pyramid Head Headcanons. Tags. !dark content! yandere, non-con, dub-con, violence, kidnapping/captivity, size-difference, monsterfucking, rough sex, blood-mentions, death/murder, (sfw & smut) Inspired by these templates. click & clack

✧ Affection How do they show affection, how intense would it get?

Physical affection, extremely physical. Since he doesn't communicate verbally and also is a monster rather than a man there isn't any intellectual thought that goes behind his way of displaying affection. He just grabs you, holding you against him when he's docile. And when he's horny moves you into whatever position he wants and just goes at it. Either way, man handles you with no thought, he just has an extreme and intense need to have you felt against him.

✧ Blood How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Oh he's so messy... Pyramid Head exists as one of the many demons of Silent Hill whose sole reason exists to punish, to cause tarnish and thus Pyramid Head gets very bloody. On his own his existence is to torture and cause bloodshed, it's wired into him. But when it comes to you? Think everything Pyramid Head has and can do, but tenfold. He'll have every inch of Silent Hill covered in the guts and blood of whichever unfortunate soul tried to come between you and him.

✧ Cruelty How cruel would they treat their darling once abducted?

He's unknowingly cruel. See, Pyramid Head knows nothing but cruelty, he causes dismay and bloodshed to anyone who enters Silent Hill that finds themselves near him. Which reflects on the way he treats you when he has you in his grasp. But his infatuation and need for you are also very real, the cruelty is unintentional in a way. When you try and run, he'll throw you back where he left you. He'll cradle you to hug you and feel you close, but might end up snapping something due to his lack of conscience mind of your bones. Same goes for sex, he doesn't want to cause you pain, but he's huge and rough, it'll hurt.

✧ Delusion How delusional are they?

Everything in Silent Hill is a delusion, Pyramid Head himself, is partly a delusion. He doesn't have to be delusional, sane, or logical when it comes to you. He wants you, and you're stuck here in this town whether you like it or not, you're his. That much isn't a delusion. Once you're in his grasp you belong to him, and that's as simple as it is.

✧ Exposed How vulnerable are they with their darling?

In a sense, Pyramid Head is extremely exposed to you. He's a beast, primal in nature. He simply does, and so whatever he wants or feels you will see the entirety of it with no bars. This goes not just from his bloodlust but to the more sensitive needs. Of course, he technically doesn't need anything like assurance or care. He isn't mortal. But similarly, he doesn't understand the concept of bottling emotions up or feelings. You know when he's down, and he never shies from showing it, even in less-than-savoury ways.

✧ Fight How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Fighting back doesn't bother Pyramid Head in the slightest, like at all. You can bite, scratch, punch, kick, none of it bothers him. He exists to cause that kind of reaction, to punish and push people into frantic fight or flight. Not like you can hurt him anyway, it's impossible to physically hurt him. And unlike any other poor soul trapped in Silent Hill whom he feels complete indifference to and only kills, he likes you, no loves you, wants you. So try and hurt him, beat him till your fists turn blue, he doesn't react nor care.

✧ Guilt Do they have a conscience, would they feel guilty for the things they do?

Nope. He feels nothing, no guilt at all. Pyramid Head's purpose is to slaughter, why would he feel guilt? The same goes for your injuries or the damage he causes you. It's unintentional and ultimately he doesn't want you dead, but also he sees guts and torture on a daily so it doesn't hurt his mutated heart to see you suffer at his hands either.

✧ Hell What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Every day spent in Silent Hill is hell. Silent Hill itself is hell in a way, malevolent to anyone who enters. The fact you've caught Pyramid Head's desire doesn't thwart the misery you suffer stuck in there. The worst of every equally hellish day though would be the day Pyramid Head found you. Stranded, horrified having barely survived the horrors of the other demons, then came one of the worst ones wielding a blade. Perhaps you had hoped to survive, to find an escape before. But after finding yourself in his clutches, all hope was lost, thus the day your spirit died.

✧ Ideals What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Pyramid Head doesn't have a mind. He's a creature, truly the only desire he has for you is to have you by his side, till Silent Hill perishes. But it never will, it'll always be an endless limbo, you are his and that'll never change. He'll have the instinct that is similar to a predator, to take its prey. The other goers of Silent Hill whom he hunts and kills. All except you, another victim no difference, but you will be forced to stay trapped forever with him.

✧ Jealousy Do they get jealous, how does their jealousy look like?

Pyramid Head doesn't get jealous, per se. He does get possessive though, because you are ultimately his possession. He is a being malevolent and high in power and you belong to him. As such, if something or someone, more specifically, gets in between you and him, he lashes out. Makes sure to make their death extra visceral and makes sure you watch the whole thing, to remind you that you are his.

✧ Kinks What kind of kinks do they have, do they make their darling participate?

Not kinky at all, because he just wouldn't understand it. For Pyramid Head, he's a creature, when he fucks you it's instinctive. Always has you glued to his side either way so he fucks you wherever however as long as he's inside of you, he doesn't care. Now, he doesn't have any kinks specifically he indulges or desires. But he does a preferred way to fuck, and it's rough. He sticks it in ruthlessly and will cum over and over filling you up to the brim with relentless thrusts, he goes animalistic rearranging your guts. And you just have to lay there and take it, there is no control in him when he's rutting in you.

✧ Love letters How would they go about courting their darling?

Courting is non-existent. Pyramid Head takes, and you are left with little to no voice in it. He desires you, unfortunately, and thus you must accept that. He won't approach, he will not gingerly win you over, he nabs you and you're his. This doesn't mean he doesn't care for your affection either. It's just the fact that affection for Pyramid Head is physical in nature, and he can force you into that, just hold you flush against him 24/7 or fuck you silly whenever. That's how he shows love, whether you return it or not isn't important.

✧ Manipulate How manipulative are they and how do they do it?

He lacks the intelligence to make any genuine forms of manipulation, however, this isn't to say he doesn't attempt to coax you into acceptance. Though it's clumsy and mostly futile. Whilst he doesn't care at the end of the day if you accept him or not since he holds all power over you regardless, he still has an insatiable obsession for you. When he holds you and drags you around with him and keeps you pressed to him it's in hope you grow to reciprocate it. Generally though, not manipulative at all.

✧ Naughty How would they punish their darling?

You'd never be the one getting punished, because there is no way you can attempt anything worth punishment. Pyramid Head has already deemed you free of his punishment and thus you will not be slaughtered. This isn't to say he doesn't hurt you, he does. Again not intentionally but often, if he's been aggravated will squeeze you too hard or rampage, but it's never to punish you, it's just a visceral thing. In truth, you are the only thing Pyramid Head does not punish an exception to it.

✧ Oppression How many rights would they take away from their darling?

The second you've entered the grasp of Pyramid Head, you've lost any will of your own. There is no such thing as having a right to anything under him. You exist solely as his, that is all you are meant for to Pyramid Head. The choice or right of freedom is gone. Pyramid Head will hold you as his captive same as Silent Hill holds you captive. When he tears your clothes off to ravish you, he doesn't care if you wish to cover again, if he wants to drag you with him as he roams, you have no choice but to cling to him as he holds you close.

✧ Patience How patient are they with their darling?

How patient Pyramid Head is entirely depends on what his patience is for. If it's patience for any kind of intellectual love or affection he can go centuries awaiting you to show any responsive form of it, that doesn't matter at all to him. But his patience for you to be there, with him, for him, physically? None. From the first encounter you'll have with Pyramid Head to every single following one under him he has no time to care for your reluctance to follow along. You're sat on his cock the minute he wants to put it in you and cuddled against him the second he finds you.

✧ Quit what happens if their darling dies or successfully escapes?

The only way to escape Pyramid Head successfully would include escaping the wrath of Silent Hill. And Pyramid Head is tethered to Silent Hill, for the fog to release you and you find a way out would mean Pyramid Head follows in your release. It isn't an escape because, like Silent Hill, Pyramid Head will simply accept it and accept your triumph. If you died in his clutches though? That's a whole other story, carnage doesn't even begin to cover the way Pyramid Head mourns. It's instinctive, he roars and destroys like a wolf whose mate has been taken. You were his, and now he'll never have what he carnally desired most ever again. Rage will seep into all his executions following your death.

✧ Risks How compliant are they with their darling?

No compliance, at all. There's also absolutely no risk in his treatment of you or any attempts you may use to utilize to escape. There's truly no winning with Pyramid Head if you want something that doesn't align with his needs. Now, it's a completely separate story if the compliance or risk you ask of him doesn't go outside of his desires for you. If you, for instance, beg him to let go of another victim, he will, there are other monsters who can implement their punishment. If you wish to see a specific area in Silent Hill, with him taking and holding you the whole time, he will without hesitation.

✧ Stigma What childhood event brought about this side of theirs?

(He didn't have a childhood there's nothing to add here sorry)

✧ Tears How does seeing their darling cry make them feel?

It bothers him. Whilst your feeble attempts to fight back or of defiance do nothing to him since ultimately you cannot hurt him, it's another thing to see you experience mental anguish as his. He desires you in a form of love, not in a form of punishment that he inflicts on others. When you cry out, he's seen it all too many times with his victims, but those were people he was sent to make suffer. You are his, not to suffer but to be his. And when you weep, it makes him flare uncomfortably, he'll hug you and hope it soothes you to understand his desires.

✧ Unique Do they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Everything, because Pyramid Head's form of yandere is also very different from the classic concept. For Pyramid Head, he isn't human, or sentient in a way, so his obsessive love for you is primal in nature. The feelings he has for you, are in the most basic way have no actual thoughts behind them. Pyramid Head doesn't dream about you or desire you as a lover to chat with or marry. You are literally like a mate to him, a thing he's found infatuation with and that he needs on him constantly.

✧ Vice What weakness can their darling exploit to escape?

The fact that Pyramid Head only exists within Silent Hill, for Silent Hill as an entity. He is tied to Silent Hill, so if you can break your way out of Silent Hill, through whatever means, you've also broken yourself free of Pyramid Head. Though his fixation of you is entirely his own, his loyalty still lies in the fog that created him. If you've deemed yourself worthy by Silent Hill, able to escape the demons there, Pyramid Head won't follow you. And will simply hold you as a memory once you've left.

✧ Wild card Random headcanon of the character.

He has an extremely high libido, it's endless also. He doesn't have a refractory period because his whole structure is impenetrable, he doesn't weaken and neither does his dick. So with you? It's absolutely rabid. Once you're in the picture he gets it ignited from you. You're the object of his every single urge, all of which he fucks out into you. Sometimes just takes you while roaming about, other mortals trapped in Silent Hill may see, but he doesn't care.

✧ Xoanon Would they worship their darling?

Absolutely, but you wouldn't understand it, neither does he really. There's nothing outright to showcase his sheer devotion to you, but it's there and with Pyramid Head it's heavy. With the many occultish things and benevolently malevolent spirits of Silent Hill, Pyramid Head is spiritual by nature. And you, a soul he's found obsession to, truly you are god-like to him. You are the closest Pyramid Head can come to the feeling of salvation. A thing he leans on without realizing because he absolutely needs you with him at all costs. To cling to and worship by touch.

✧ Yearn How long do they pine for their darling before they snap?

He doesn't yearn for anything. The second he sees you and has been overtaken with the feelings he harbours for your existence, he'll take you. Brutally of course. As previously stated, how you feel or react to it doesn't matter the first time he takes you, and that's your first meeting with him as well, because Pyramid Head responds to his baser instincts. He sees, he likes, he wants? He's getting. And what he's getting is you.

✧ Zenith Would they ever break their darling?

Pyramid Head does not intend to break you. He's gotten you to be his and the specifics don't matter outside of that. However, you will break, regardless. Be it your bones or heart or mind. Pyramid Head will love you whole till you've accepted the fate you have, to be his. Melded with him at all times, left to live as his for eternity because Silent Hill is an eternity. There is no other choice truly, but to accept your life as Pyramid Head's darling, his possession. Forever deep in the Silent Hills, his...

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