You have a blind date tonight.
You've been working all day to dispel any expectations, but it's kind of hard when you know what you want.
[[I hope he's nice.]]
[[I hope he's hot.]]
You want to get along with him. You figure that if he's a good guy, then attraction can come later.
You adjust your clothes before entering the cafe you've agreed to meet at. You're a little overdressed, but it certainly can't hurt, considering how bangin' you look. There's a dusty color scheme to the place; it's the kind with chalkboard menus and nice glass cups, and lots of old, long-useless coffee grinders and utensils displayed on shelves.
You bring out your phone just as an incoming message appears on the screen. It's him. He says he's here.
You look at the door behind you as it swings open, and he locks eyes with you.
[[Oh good, he's overdressed too]]
All you want is someone who can treat you right. It'll just be a big plus if he ends up being a sweetheart.
You make finger guns at yourself in the window before heading in to the karaoke bar you've agreed to meet at. Someone is singing Eye of the Tiger as you walk in, and the bar is busy. You slip onto a stool and pull out your phone, checking your social media to kill time.
A few minutes pass, and as you're about to text him, you jump at a hand on your shoulder.
"Hey," says a husky voice.
You look behind you and blink. Oh, my.
[[Size him up]]
He's wearing a vest over a button-down shirt, with a tucked in tie. You're not sure what kind of person wears that to a coffee shop, but you suppose you can't talk. Plus, it looks cute on him.
"Are you...?" he says. You can already hear how thick his accent is. It's your favorite.
"Your date," you answer. "Yep."
He smiles at you. It's a warm, charming smile, and has probably gotten him a lot of places. "I'm Carlisle," he says.
You find a table and he gestures for you to stay in your seat.
"I'm buying," he says. "What can I get you?"
[[Ask for a coffee]]
[[Don't let him pay for you]]
You thank him and ask for some coffee. He seems delighted to oblige.
As he turns toward the cashier's counter, you see that his messy hair is tied back into a small ponytail. A seed of worry plants itself in your stomach. He'd better not be one of those hipstery writer types or something.
[[>>|coffee]]
You insist on paying for yourself. He insists back, but finally gives in. He seems a bit dejected that his chivalry was shot down.
You stand behind him in line, and note his messy hair pulled back into a small ponytail. You hope he isn't about to spend this whole date talking about himself.
[[>>|coffee]]
You both sip your drinks. You know next to nothing about this guy, even from what your friend told you about him. You know he's a trans man, and that he has some pets. That's about it.
[[Ask him about himself]]
[[Ask him about his pets]]
[[Talk about yourself]]
"Well," he says, looking off to one side. He subtly tries to appear smaller. "I like animals... and music. And whiskey."
You giggle, encouraging him.
"Not a huge fan of talking about myself, really," he says quickly. "I try not to waste too much time when there's a very pretty someone sitting across from me."
You can't tell if he's smooth or not. He winks at you, and the little scuffle of butterflies in your stomach tells you that he is.
[[>>|talkforawhile]]
He lights up a little bit at the mention of them.
"My apartment's a bit of a jungle," he says. "Lots of fish, plants... other things."
You tell him that sounds peaceful.
He laughs. It's adorable. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? But every single one of them is a troublemaker, in their own special way. Expensive, too."
[[>>|talkforawhile]]
You realize a little too late that it probably wasn't the best idea to start blabbing about yourself right off the bat, but he doesn't seem to mind, and in fact leans in to listen. He prompts you on with questions, and you talk about your projects, your habits. You're noticing at this point how much joy he takes in being a gentleman. What a nice change of pace.
[[>>|talkforawhile]]
Time passes as the two of you chat. You find yourself lost in the conversation, and laughing enough that the drink in front of you goes unfinished through the hours.
You mention that it's getting late. He asks you how you're getting home, and you tell him that you walked here.
"I can drive you home," he offers.
You look at him and smile. "Why don't we just go back to your place instead?"
He flicks his eyes over you, the first even remotely nonchivalrous thing he's done all night, and agrees, some of his excitability melting into anticipation.
[[Holy shit, he wasn't lying]]
He'd told you his apartment was overrun by pets and plants, and boy, this is not what you thought he meant. Every available windowsill has four or five terracotta pots in it, and one plant has even climbed up the wall, covering it and some of the ceiling in leaves. You thought you knew a fair bit about what kind of plants showed up around your city and in the garden stores, but you've never seen the likes of any of these plants before.
A small, fluffy dog jumps up at you as Carlisle hangs his keys on a hook, only coming up to your knees. You scratch its head. To your left, in the kitchenette, several aquarium filters hum.
Carlisle looks at you apologetically. He picks up his puppy and scolds it, and it goes quiet, still venturing to look at you and wag its tail.
"Are you put off yet?" he sighs.
[[No, it's cute]]
"You'd be surprised how many people come over and try to tell me I'm doing something wrong," he idles on his way to the bedroom door, setting down his dog, which waddles off. "Wrong food this, wrong brand that... as if all my pets don't live longer than average."
"You look like you know what you're doing," you say.
Carlisle grins at you, picks up your hand, and presses a kiss into it. "I think you'll find that I do, love."
[[Oh shit]]
His room has more aquariums in it, and a couple of birds, but all you're really focusing on as he goes down on you is how nicely his hair tangles in your fingers and how cute he is looking up at you from under his lashes. You end up returning the favor, and he has to cover his mouth to keep from moaning too loudly. He was serious about being good. You're flat exhausted by the time he turns off the light and leaves you to sleep, saying as he exits half-dressed that he has some maintenance to do on his various creatures before he goes to bed.
You're really tired, but you also forgot to ask where the bathroom is.
[[Sleep]]
[[Try and find the bathroom]]
You decide it's probably best if you rest. Carlisle eventually joins you in the bed, kissing you sweetly before settling. This went so much better than you could have hoped for.
[[Wake up]]
You put a modest amount of clothes back on and feel your way out of Carlisle's bedroom. There's a couple of doors in the little hallway, which is odd considering he lives by himself and doesn't need an extra bedroom. You figure one of them must be the bathroom. You take a wild guess.
You ease the door open, and light spills from the dim hall into the room. It's got tile floors, and that looks like a counter. You grope the wall for a lightswitch and flick it on when you find it. A bathroom it is.
You don't particularly need to go right now, but it's good to know that it's here.
And then, you hear something. There's scuffling coming from the bathtub, and you jolt as the curtain moves.
[[Investigate]]
...This isn't Carlisle's bed.
[[Look around]]
You're in a different room. It's bigger than Carlisle's bedroom, and there are even more cages and tanks, except...
What the hell are those things?!
You try to get up, but you're tied down. You struggle against ropes, frayed from use and reuse. The chair under you is bolted to the floor. What kind of landlord allows all these animals and a bolted chair?
Speaking of the animals, they don't look like anything you've ever seen at a pet store - a giant, fanged fish with large feathery fins paces a huge tank, a slender, headless animal paws at the padding in its cage, and other monsters make unearthly noises and movements under harsh terrarium lights.
You hear footsteps outside the door behind you.
[[Call for Carlisle]]
You scream Carlisle's name, enraged and terrified.
You hear the door swing open.
"Oh," he says, "you're awake already."
[[Care to explain why I'm tied up?]]
[[What are these horrible monsters?]]
He walks around to face you, bending down to your level. His animals frame him. There's a calm smile on his face.
"You'll see," he says, patting your cheek with his hand. "For now, just relax. We don't want you to be too tough, do we?"
You cautiously ask him what he means.
"So many questions," he laughs. "Don't worry, I won't keep you wondering."
He pulls out a hacksaw.
[[Scream]]
He furrows his eyebrows at you. Now that you think about it, that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.
"How dare you?" Carlisle accuses.
You're too scared to say anything else. His mouth makes a hard line as he looks you over, then he turns and paces the room, tapping his lips with his finger. The creatures that have eyes follow him, curious.
Finally he nods, as if making a decision, then reaches down to untie you.
You sigh in relief. "Oh, thank you," you say, "I'm - "
"You're not going anywhere," he hisses. As soon as the ropes fall from you, you make a break for the door.
You sprint across his living room. The handle of the front door won't give to your hands, no matter how hard you yank on it.
"Sic 'em," you hear Carlisle's voice say.
[[Try to hide]]
[[Try to fight]]
He shoves his fingers into your mouth, stifling you.
"Shh," he hushes. "I live in an apartment, remember? Someone might complain if you're too loud."
You clamp your teeth down on his fingers, but he digs them further into your throat, making you gag and forcing your mouth to stay open.
"I would kill you and then do this," he explains, giving you a faux apologetic expression, "but my pets prefer live meat."
He lowers the saw to your hand, just after your knuckles and before your digits, and you begin to tear up, from the gagging and the fear. You struggle, but there's not an imperfection in your binds to be found.
He drags the teeth of the saw across the base of your fingers. You gag helplessly as your skin tears, blood running from the rough cut and onto the arm of the chair. He comes back the other way and pain explodes from the splitting tendons, making you squirm ungracefully. Through the tears warbling your vision, you see the monsters behind Carlisle watch in piqued interest.
Your brain fills up with cotton as the pain becomes too much to bear. The thunk of the hacksaw against the chair is your indicator that Carlisle's finished hacking your fingers off, and you ride out waves of nausea as Carlisle removes his own fingers from your throat. You cough violently.
"There, now," you hear Carlisle say through the fog. "That could've been worse."
[[Fuck you]]
You vault over a nearby couch and huddle behind it, your breathing ragged.
You hear the metal tinkle of a collar.
Okay, what to do?
[[Look for a weapon]]
Carlisle's monstrous pets are scary, but how strong can they really be? You can take 'em.
You brace yourself, not knowing what horror might come out of that door. Suddenly, the puppy emerges from the room, its eyes trained on you and tail wagging.
You laugh out loud. Seriously?
Then its tongue lolls out of its mouth, at least a foot long, and it unhinges its jaw, putting its little paws out to balance as it roars at you.
You stop laughing.
You claw at the door as the dog strikes out to grip your leg with its teeth. You try to kick it off, but it's started swallowing you whole, even as you beat on its head with your fists.
By the time it reaches your neck, Carlisle is laughing, watching from the doorway. You can do nothing as the 'dog' devours you, except suffocate.
(set: $cending5 to 'unlocked')
[[Carlisle's dog caught you!|home]]
He hums contentedly, seeming not to hear you. He takes up your fingers in his fist like they're a bouquet. You can't help but watch in morbid curiosity as he drops them one by one into a fish tank.
You can't watch this. You hear the thrash of water as the monster presumably devours your fingers.
"What a good boy," you hear Carlisle say to his fish. "Yes you are."
Carlisle looks back at you. You must be in a sorry state, because he tilts his head a little, as if out of pity.
"Alright," he says, as if anything that might come out of his mouth next could possibly be a compromise. "One more thing, and then we'll be done, okay?"
You nod, just desperate to get out of here.
"Here's your choice, love," he whispers. "I could take your eye, or I could take your tongue."
[[The eye]]
[[The tongue]]
You tell him the eye, in a shaky voice. You don't want to not be able to eat.
He smiles. "Good choice. Someone's getting fed~," he sings, and one of the monsters, one with dozens of legs, scratches the glass of its tank.
"You're fucking insane," you manage, your voice thick.
Carlisle sighs, then turns to dig in a box under one of the tables of cages. "I told you, people always think they know what's good for my babies. How can you call yourself a proper pet owner..." Carlisle resurfaces with a large scoop. "...if you don't give them what they need?"
The sheer thought of that spoon being inside your head makes you cry harder. Carlisle looks at you.
"Don't worry, I'll be quick," he promises.
And he is - the scoop slips into your eye socket and back out, and you scream, feeling like you might throw up as he snips the nerves off. It feels so hollow now, so empty; tears pool in the new space.
"There we are," Carlisle says softly. He takes your cheeks in his hands, tilting your head up, and kisses you gingerly. When he pulls away, there's blood on his mouth from where it had run from your socket down your face.
He takes your eye from the spoon and looks it over, his steps a bit dancey as he turns around. "My, //you// look good enough to eat." He laughs at his own pun as he drops your eye in his pet's cage.
"Now, stay here, if you would," Carlisle says, and leaves.
[[Ha fucking ha]]
You tell him the tongue, in a shaky voice. You can't even imagine letting something near your eye.
He grins wide, rubbing his hands together. "Ah, I was hoping that's what you'd choose," he sings. Your eyes widen as his nails grow and blacken into claws, and his teeth sharpen into fangs.
"You know, in some places," he says, his voice thicker in his mouth, "tongues are considered //delicacies//."
You scream, fighting your bindings. He produces a pair of garden shears and opens them, a long, lazy scrape of metal.
He wrenches your mouth open and shoves the shears in, cutting off your tongue. Pain overtakes you, and you lean forward to cough up the blood that's already fallen into your windpipe. He tilts his head back, holds your tongue above his open mouth with two dainty fingers, and drops it in.
"Thank you, love," he says after a moment, his mouth full. "I feel as though this date has been a roaring success."
You glare up at him, the tear streaks growing cold on your face.
"In fact," he says, tapping a claw to his lip, "I was going to just feed all of you to my darling pets, but you seem like the kind we need to save for a special occasion."
He snips off your bindings with the shears, then grabs you and drags you to his kitchen. You hear the distinct shink of a knife, which he then hovers over your neck.
"Goodnight," he says. "You'll be the finest in my fridge."
(set: $cending2 to 'unlocked')
[[Carlisle kept you as leftovers!|home]]
Maybe the dog got in there. Carlisle might want to know if one of his pets was where it shouldn't be.
Oh my good Lord, that's not a dog.
[[Run]]
You trip over your feet going for the door and fall into it, and before you can balance and grab the handle, the thing that was in the bathtub has your ankle. The tentacle is wet but still grips you tight enough to pull you to the tile floor. You try to yell for Carlisle, but another tentacle shoves itself into your mouth, curling down your throat and almost blocking it completely. You yank on the slimy limb to no avail, and the monster takes the opportunity to grab your wrists and wrap an arm around them, holding them together.
You kick at the air, panicking as you feel a tentacle snake up your leg. Just then, the door in front of you opens. Carlisle seems mildly surprised to see you apprehended on the floor.
You plead at him with your eyes to do something. Instead, he smiles.
"Aww," he coos. "She //likes// you."
You regret not taking the time to put on your underwear. As you look behind you, a thick tentacle splits into four pieces like a flower, stringing slime where it separates. Before you can even wonder, it latches itself over your hole, cold and slick and sticking to you with suckers. You can't help but shudder. What feels like a tongue prods at your opening, still sensitive from earlier, and pushes inside. Carlisle just leans against the doorway, looking down at you, pleased.
"Naughty girl, for escaping your cage," Carlisle says. "But all's well that ends well."
The monster chirps. The tongue-thing starts to widen inside of you, and you might cry out if there wasn't a tentacle down your throat. You feel a small push, and you thrash as you realize what it's doing. It pumps more eggs into you, picking up speed. You try to relax your hole enough to accomodate for the painful amount of eggs it's packing in you but they don't stop coming. There's nothing you can do.
The monster gives one final heave and you feel the gaps between the eggs fill up with something warm. Fertilizer, you guess. You don't wanna think about it.
[[>>|carlisleending1]]
Carlisle leans down to meet your eyes, completely unaffected.
"I was going to feed you to my pets," he said, "but it looks like they had other ideas."
You squirm against the monster holding you down, trying desperately to push out the eggs with a thick tentacle blocking the way.
"I guess I'll be keeping you for a while."
(set: $cending1 to 'unlocked')
[[''Carlisle's pet bred you!''|home]]
You watch blood drip from your chin and onto your nice clothes. The animals watch, too. Carlisle eventually returns, his puppy in his arms.
"I'm truly sorry for making you upset," he says, without a tinge of regret. He places the puppy on your lap. You glare at him. This is supposed to make you feel better?
"But my darlings are happy, thanks to you."
The dog unhinges its jaw like a snake, and the last thing you see is the inside of its throat.
(set: $cending3 to 'unlocked')
[[''Carlisle fed you to his pets!''|home]]
What weapon? You're behind a couch.
You guess you see some thumbtacks, but that won't be enough. There's a discarded fish food label... and a pencil.
You take the pencil, for all it's worth.
You hear Carlisle's footsteps, and tiny sniffling noises. Did he send his dog after you?
"Where is it?" Carlisle coos. "Where'd it go?"
You tense up as the sniffling noises get closer.
The dog spots you, and its jaw unhinges. It roars, gearing to strike at you.
[[Fucking stab it]]
You jam the pencil up through its open maw, piercing the soft roof of its mouth and holding its jaws open. It yips and backs off, scraping at its injury with its little paws.
Carlisle yells in incredulous anger. You leap up from the couch and make for a window instead, knocking the pots off the sill in your efforts to open it.
It won't open, and Carlisle grabs you from behind, holding you by your waist. You can swear you feel claws digging into your stomach.
"I've had enough," Carlisle growls. "I'll eat you myself."
He turns you around and pins you to the wall. Long fangs gleam in the morning sunlight, and you're pretty sure his tongue wasn't that long last time you saw it. Is he some kind of shapeshifter?!
You don't have much time to think about it. He sticks your waist with his claws like nails and clamps his teeth down on your shoulder, ripping off a chunk and taking a scrap of your shirt with it. You scream, but not long before he can take a large bite of your neck.
[[>>|carlisleending2]]
He looks at you, your blood coating his face, pissed off but satisfied. He throws you to the ground, and you see him rip the rest of your shirt off and continue to bite off pieces of you as your arteries run themselves dry.
(set: $cending4 to 'unlocked')
[[Carlisle ate you!|home]]
<img src="https://68.media.tumblr.com/66e0d8a108ad0a562283da955215185c/tumblr_okuueel2or1w5nwb5o1_540.png" alt="BDFH load">
Welcome to Blind Date from Hell.
[[Start new run|start]]
[[View unlocked endings]]
<img src="https://68.media.tumblr.com/fbfc3a7cf6dc4bd6289e772441ecf822/tumblr_oky4zlqRlI1w5nwb5o1_540.gif" alt="dem boyz">
''Carlisle''
(if: $cending1 is "unlocked")[Carlisle's pet bred you!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $cending2 is "unlocked")[Carlisle kept you as leftovers!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $cending3 is "unlocked")[Carlisle fed you to his pets!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $cending4 is "unlocked")[Carlisle ate you!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $cending5 is "unlocked")[Carlisle's dog caught you!]
(else:)[?]
''Peyton''
(if: $pending1 is "unlocked")[Peyton showed you a good time!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $pending2 is "unlocked")[Peyton will keep you forever!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $pending3 is "unlocked")[Peyton slit your throat!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $pending4 is "unlocked")[Peyton tied you up!]
(else:)[?]
(if: $pending5 is "unlocked")[Peyton tore out your heart!]
(else:)[?]
He's tall and dark-skinned, and he's wearing a long skirt and glasses, giving him a 'sexy teacher' sort of vibe. His hand is really big compared to your shoulder. His lips are an angelic bow curve, and his eyes are sultry, just by default.
Good lordy.
"Are you Peyton?" you ask, with an unwarranted tinge of hope.
He nods and takes a seat next to you, then orders cocktails for you and himself. He has to lean in next to your ear to make himself heard over the noisy place.
"I hope you can sing," he says, low and growling. "I won't leave without a duet."
You shudder, and hope he doesn't notice.
[[Ask him about himself|peytonhimself]]
[[Wait for him to talk]]
Eventually, he asks you about yourself. You tell him about some of your hobbies, and he seems genuinely interested. You make him laugh, and it's a deep and imposing sound.
He seems to like you. You think if he didn't, he wouldn't be eyeing you like that.
[[>>|nexttalky]]
"I'm not really sure what you wanna hear," he says bluntly. "I guess I'm kind of kinky, I practice magic, I like to sing..."
You ask him to elaborate on the magic part.
"You know, crystals and spells and stuff," he explains, swirling his drink in his hand. You watch, thinking idly about those fingers being on you. "It's mostly a hobby."
[[>>|nexttalky]]
''THIS IS A HORROR GAME FOR GETTING-OFF PURPOSES
DON'T DO THIS SHIT AT HOME
PLEASE DO NOT USE THIS GAME TO HARM OR TRIGGER YOURSELF INTENTIONALLY''
TRIGGER WARNINGS:
''Carlisle's Path''
cannibalism
eye trauma
tentacle noncon
oviposition
consensual sex
blood
knives/sharp things
mouth trauma
alcohol mention
gagging
vore (kind of? ish?)
monsters
''Peyton's Path''
noncon
mind control
knives
blood
d/s
religious themes
torture
alcohol
bondage mention
necro mention
choking
[[I understand, take me to the gross stuff|home]]
The two of you make conversation over your cocktails for a while. Peyton talks a bit about his interest in magic, patting his jacket pocket to emphasize that he brought some of his crystals with him. He says he'd brought them for good luck on the date, and that they must be working.
You clap politely as another karaoke-er finishes a song. The DJ bids them congrats on a great performance, then turns back to his system.
You hear Peyton's name and your own announced over the speakers. You feel your heart sink. When did Peyton sign you up?!
"Looks like it's our turn," he says, grinning at you. He grabs your wrist and tugs you off of your chair, to your hesitation.
He lets you pick the song, and you choose something you know by heart. It must be the combination of the alcohol and the adrenaline, but you belt the song along with Peyton, feeling the whole place's collective eyes on you. Part of the way through the second chorus, he wraps an arm around your waist, strong hand gripping your thigh. Oh, he's getting some.
The ending of the song is explosive, and you kiss him, realizing too late that it might put him off, but he reciprocates, to your relief. You break apart laughing and glowing.
[[Blow this popsicle stand]]
You ask if you can come over, and he says yes. There's a strange look in his eyes when you tell him you walked here and need a ride, but you ignore it. He must just be glad for one more opportunity to flirt with you.
There's a little protective sigil on his car window, which you find endearing. It's neat that such a forward, no-bullshit guy has the sort of emotional awareness for witchcraft.
As soon as you get inside his house, he closes the door and pins you against it, strong hands feeling up your stomach and teeth around your shoulder. You moan breathily, and as you lift up your hands in submission he takes them by the wrists and pins them to the door behind you. He presses his body flush to yours, much bigger than you. His cock is hard against your stomach.
He whispers something about his room in your ear. You're too hazy and turned on to quite hear, but you nod quickly, biting your lip so as not to beg.
He leads you by the arm to a closed bedroom door, which he then opens.
[[Look inside]]
You shake yourself out of your horny daze to take in the scene in front of you.
First you notice the large bed, which has what you thought for just a second was a sheer red sheet on it. But sheets don't leave splatter marks. That's blood. Oh, God, his whole comforter is //soaked// in blood.
There's a long vanity to the left of it, where white candles are melted and sigils are carved into the wood. There's blood spattered all over that, too, and scattered about are vials and crystals of different sizes and colors. Its centerpiece is a large, neatly organized, ornate collection of knives.
He throws you onto the bed. The dried blood on the blanket crunches under your weight.
[[Scream|peytonscream]]
You shriek, scrambling backwards on the bed, but Peyton hooks his hands around your neck. Your eyes widen as he shuts off your airway, your scream becoming a pathetic, hoarse choke.
"Shut up," he commands you. He takes his hands away and you cough thickly, holding your neck where he'd strangled you. You try to make more noise, but it keeps coming out as coughing. You see him turn and pick up a knife from the vanity. It makes a distinct, high sound, making you flinch out of sheer dread. He turns back to you, sporting a black stiletto and the same smug grin that had drawn you to him less than an hour ago.
[[Try to kick him]]
[[Beg]]
You snap out your legs, trying to catch some part of him, but he catches your ankle instead, and you yell out in pain as he twists it.
"Thanks," he says, holding the knife to the hem of your pants. "I was having trouble deciding where I should start."
Before you can ask him what he means, he shoves the knife up through your pants, ripping them apart. Despite your best efforts, he manages to shear all the way up to your waistline. You yip as he nicks your hipbone with it.
He holds you down by your chest and looks up at you in piqued interest, his smile wicked. "Oops," he drawls. He drags the stiletto back over the nick, cutting into your hip cleanly. Pain blooms where the knife touches and the wake it leaves stings like all hell. You bite down on your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to encourage him by making more noise.
"I warned you I was kinky," he says.
You grit your teeth. "This isn't //kinky//, this is - "
Suddenly the knife is at your neck, and his face is right up on yours. You feel his heavy breath on your mouth.
"Go ahead, be clever," he encourages. "I can still have plenty of fun with you while you're dead."
You flick your eyes over his before snapping your jaw shut.
[[God, this sucks]]
You throw your hands above your head, shaking like a leaf.
"Peyton, please," you beg. "I don't know what I did wrong, but I'll - "
"Wrong?" Peyton interrupts you, twirling the knife in his hand. "You haven't done anything wrong."
He climbs on top of you, then grabs at your shirt, jabbing it with his knife and tearing it. He runs a hand over your exposed stomach before replacing it with the edge of the knife.
"I really like you, actually," he breathes, beginning to cut a slow line down your torso. You twitch underneath him, but he's steadfast. "I bet you're real pretty on the inside."
Your breath hitches as he shoves the knife into your gut.
[[Oh, fuck]]
He cuts off your shirt next, making carefully sure to catch your skin with the tip of the knife with each quick motion. You're letting out one continuous noise of pain and desperation as the cuts become countless.
Peyton tilts your chin up with the flat of the knife, his glasses partially obscuring his eyes as he looks down at you. "I'm having fun, but you're a problem, tryin' to kick me," he says, like he expects you to feel bad about that. "Think of... let's see."
He looks off to one side, thinking.
"Think of a busted computer, that you sell to someone who just wants the parts."
You do. You don't like where he's going with this.
"I know someone who could use what you've got."
Peyton climbs off of you, turning to his vanity. He hums as he peruses his knives.
[[Do something]]
[[Sit still]]
You barely have time to register that he's stabbed you before he pulls it back out. You look down at your stomach incredulously, almost feeling nothing with the shock.
Then he shoves it back into the same hole, and you feel it this time. You grasp at his arms, just trying to ground yourself as your head spins from the pain.
He twists it, and you start to cry.
He pulls the knife out slowly, and your blood clings to it, dripping back onto you in streaks. He gets off of you and leaves you trembling and sobbing on the bed. You hear the clinking of glass, and he turns back to you again with an open flask in his hand.
You give it a questioning look. He holds the potion over you, then tilts it, letting some of it fall onto your stomach.
For a second, it's the worst pain you've ever experienced. The next, the pain pulses out and in, and finally subsides. You breathe in experimentally, then look down at yourself to find that the hole has disappeared.
"Magic," he explains shortly, a satisfied look on his face. "But you've figured out what this means, I bet."
You shake your head slowly.
"I could do this //forever//, baby."
[[Your blood runs cold]]
He spends the next half-hour stabbing you and healing you again. At some point, you vaguely recall, he undoes his belt and starts getting off to it, his other hand on the knife, his face hot next to yours. You've stopped crying and can only whimper by the time he climaxes, all over your stomach and inside the cut.
He leans back and sighs, then looks down at your face. You jolt as he mutters a spell under his breath. Suddenly you feel... sort of nice. Warm, certainly. Peyton licks his lips and without warning you're aching to be touched, aching for something, //anything//.
Peyton reaches behind him and grabs a larger knife, machete-like and matte white. You melt into his fingers as he runs a thumb over your face, and cry out in surprise as he stuffs the business end of the machete into the hole between your legs, the one that's supposed to be there. You know what you're supposed to be feeling and you can feel warm blood pooling underneath you but goddamn if it doesn't just feel incredible. You moan desperately as Peyton fucks you with the knife, digging your nails into his back, your body overheating from the pleasure and the sheer fact that Peyton's on top of you, that he's making you feel like this.
[[You feel something under his shirt]]
Your arms are weak from the pleasure crashing through your body, but you manage to stick your hands under Peyton's shirt, scratching the skin of his back as you cum, thrilled to be worthy of ruining, thrilled to be ruined.
Your fingers brush something soft. Peyton removes the machete from inside you and tugs his shirt off the rest of the way. A pair of slick black wings, longer than he is tall, unfurl and stretch behind him.
The spell wears off, and a dull ache slowly becomes the roaring, splitting pain of having something sharp reaching all the way up through you. The blood loss is starting to make your head spin.
"Angel magic is powerful stuff," Peyton says, his wings curling back into a resting position. "But it isn't any fun when you're not using it in ways you shouldn't."
He kisses you as your mind clouds, and you let yourself slip off into the dark.
(set: $pending1 to 'unlocked')
[[Peyton showed you a good time!|home]]
You sit up slowly, determination in your heart. You leap off of the bed and push his head into the mirror, then grab one of the knives from his collection and hold it to his neck, breathing hard and fast.
He freezes, his hands raised slightly in surprise, but then just chuckles. You push the knife further into his neck, sure it must be cutting him by now.
"This is kinda hot," he says - in fact, you can sort of see his face in the mirror, and he's blushing. "But no."
You jump, and look down to find he's lodged a knife in the pit of your stomach. You drop your weapon, backing into the bed. You probably should've taken into account that he had a whole array of knives right underneath where you'd had him apprehended.
He turns to face you, and you find with a little flash of pride that you did manage to cut his neck. Except that the cut is bleeding black, not red.
"I can heal it, but I think I'd like to play with it first," he says, touching the cut and webbing the 'blood' between his fingertips. "I appreciate you doing that for me. It's a sin to hurt yourself, you know, and I'm already in enough trouble."
You shrink back as he towers over you, knife in hand. He slits your throat with it, seeming to find something fun about the irony of it all.
(set: $pending3 to 'unlocked')
[[Peyton slit your throat!|home]]
There's no point in fighting; he seems too much like he's got all his bases covered, or else he would've been dead or imprisoned by now. You try and focus on staying sane.
As he turns back around, he runs his fingers over a long, curved knife, covered in symbols and gemstones. It looks like some kinda ritual dagger.
Oh, God no.
He pushes you flat on the bed, then runs his rough hand over your bare chest, over the last rungs of your ribs, your stomach. His hand settles on the side of your torso, and he brings the knife to your skin.
"I've done this so many times and I can never decide where to start," he says quiet and raspy, clearly turning himself on. He prods the center of your chest with the tip of the knife, making your breath stutter.
"I could go in here, or..." He drags the knife downwards, pushes the tip up under your ribcage, folding the skin under the bones just slightly. "...here."
He's really into this.
[[Go for the knife]]
[[Don't risk it]]
You successfully take the knife out of his hand, and shove the blade into his chest before he can react, tearing his shirt. His eyes go wide and he gasps, red creeping over his face. What a sicko.
The blood washing over your hand is black.
He doubles over and groans, one hand on your shoulder to steady himself, shaking. You lodge the knife in further, and he moans into your ear. Maybe you can distract him with this long enough to escape.
"Fuck," he whispers.
You lift up your feet and kick him off of you. He slams into the vanity, rattling the vials and the crystals, and you jump up to lean against him as he leans backwards. Now you're looking down at him, and his eyes are half-lidded, his breaths shallow, lips parted.
Now that you're here, you almost get a taste of the high this could stir in somebody. You seriously consider teasing him with the knife and watching him react before you snap out of it. He's a serial killer sadomasochist, you remind yourself sternly, and you have the upper hand right now.
Then Peyton mutters a spell, and you panic as your hand begins to move by itself.
"Please don't hurt me," Peyton breathes. You really don't want to be a part of his little roleplay.
[[You don't have a choice]]
Last time you retaliated, you actually ended up helping him. You'd rather not make that mistake again.
You hate to admit it, but your best bet might be to play along.
[[Swallow your pride]]
[[Go out with dignity]]
You watch your hand drag the knife over his lips, splitting them down the middle as he winces. You then kiss him, poking your tongue into the cuts, covering your mouth in his black blood.
You cut a chunk out of his stomach and stick your hand inside to play with his innards, draw blood from the head of his cock and suck on it, and fuck him dry with the hilt before he lets you back in control. You collapse onto the floor, his cum on your hands, and you try not to vomit on his carpet.
"Wow," you hear him say above you, his voice weak. "I haven't had that much fun in centuries."
He picks you up by your collar, sets you on your feet, then hugs you from behind. You're almost glad he's holding you up, because you might crumple otherwise.
"You're really special, babe," he sighs, setting his chin on top of your head.
"I think I'll keep you around for a while. How's that sound?"
(set: $pending2 to 'unlocked')
[[Peyton will keep you forever!|home]]
You're going to need so much therapy if you get out of this alive.
You place your hands above your head submissively, put on the most innocent face you can muster, and swallow.
"Peyton?" you say.
He glances up at you.
"Do you have anything to tie me up with?"
Peyton's mouth twists into a smile that pushes up on his eyes. You jolt as he stabs the knife into the bed just an inch from your ear, then grabs your face with his hand, making you look at him.
"I was hoping you'd come around," he says, an uncharacteristic bounce in his step as he turns back to his vanity. "Might as well make it fun if you're going to die, huh? Optimist. I dig it."
[[Make a break for it]]
Fuck that. You're not playing his game.
Peyton pouts, tapping his knife, as if making his decision. The tip of the knife nestles itself underneath your ribcage, splitting your skin all the way from one end to the other. It's a similar cut to the ones he's already made, so you have an easier time composing yourself and glaring pointedly at him. That is, until he goes back over the cut again, slicing into you completely. The feeling of air hitting your insides is alien and unbearable. You scream raggedly as he splits the cut with his fingers, then eases the entire fan of his fingers inside.
He's breathing heavily as he wraps his hand around the rib closest, and you feel an aching tension in it just before he snaps it off.
"Oh, can it," Peyton replies to your agonized shout. He pulls the bone from the cut he's made, sets it down, then eagerly sticks his hand back in. You feel your heart beat against his palm.
"Another day, another pretty body I just end up sacrificing," Peyton laments, tearing your heart from you. You hear the arteries snap, reverbing in the acoustics of your chest.
(set: $pending5 to 'unlocked')
[[Peyton tore out your heart!|home]]
You bound for the door while his back is turned, whip it open, and pump your legs as he booms your name. You slam against the front door and yank on the handle, but it's locked. Your heart beats out of your chest as Peyton's heavy footsteps get closer.
He grabs your arms and wrenches them behind your back. You kick your legs out to try and get free, but he's strong. Inhumanly strong.
"I thought we had something, sweetheart," he snarls into your ear. You feel the brush of a rope before it constricts your hands by the wrists, tight enough to choke your veins. His shadow on the door you're facing has pieces that weren't there before. Two monstrous wings.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" He digs his hand into your hair and rams your face into the door. "Or maybe this is too vanilla for you?"
Your stomach flips at the shink of a knife. "I didn't fall from grace so my fucktoys could run away."
He drives the blade into your gut, then twists it upward and pulls it back out. You feel your intestines begin to unravel and slide past the gaping slit of skin and fat he's made in you. You scream, begging someone outside to help you, as Peyton grabs your viscera and ties your arms to your torso with them.
"Much better," Peyton mutters, a mix of hurt and sweet revenge realized. He grabs your waist and presses himself against you, tucking his head into your neck. The edges of your vision start to fade into black.
"It's not over 'til it's over, baby."
(set: $pending4 to 'unlocked')
[[Peyton tied you up!|home]]