Saccharin『 yandere o.shots』(Requests: OPEN)

Sammy Lawrence (P3) 🔞

"there we go now, i hope it isn't too tight. we couldn't have you leaving so soon now, wouldn't we? straying away from your dedicated follower."

as soon as the information sank in, you were suddenly aware of the ropes that kept your arms bound behind your back and shins tied to the wooden legs of a creaky chair, keping them apart and spread.

"i'm eternally grateful that you came all the way down here to visit me--- a blessing... and yet, here i am. having you tied you to this chair, yet another blasphemy i have commited against you." 

in front of you, was a humanoid figure covered-- perhaps made entirely of-- deep dark ink, except that it was textured like motor oil and didn't smell like anything you recognize. still fresh but not runny, the surface reflecting the jaundice tainted light that shined from above.

he wore overalls and a mask of someone you recognized, your favorite character from the cartoon you've worked on, from a cardboard cut-out. a rectanguar hole where a mouth would be.

"but... i couldn't find any other way of getting you to notice me-- to have you here, have my prayers be answered... i was truly desperate, your grace"

only now you noticed how he clung to your bound legs. tip of his fingers almost being absorbed by the fabric of your bottoms that his own face was pressed onto, dyeing it an unwashable black. his knees almost touching the tip of your shoes as he bowed his naked, inky spine, shuddering like he was freezing.

"i want you-- no, i need you to cleanse me from this inky dark abyss i call a body! wash away all my sins! hahaha... making demands of you after all i've done. look how much of a depraved sinner i am!"

he was manic, the ink seemed to bubble as the shaking intensified. his masked face suddenly snapping to gaze at you, the rectangular gap of it's mouth dripping with ink. like a foaming rabid dog.

"i'll show you every part of me, this is my confession. i beg of you, cleanse me."

"tell me, your grace. what is my penance?" 

"... move your mask a bit upwards."

he didn't hesitate, tugging on the tip of his mask and pulling it up, revealing a flat surface where the mouth would be placed.

"do you have a mouth?"

one of the hands gripping onto you left their place to touch his face, rubbing the area where his mouth would be. then he pushed a pointer and a thumb inside the smooth surface. he spread them open. forcing a mouth on his face, faint strings of ink connecting his bottom and upper 'jaw', like they were trying to sew them back together.

a long black tongue stretched it's way outside the makeshift mouth, droplets of ink clinged to it like drooling saliva.

"does this satisfy your question?" 

fuck, how would that feel against you? the ropes kept your legs from closing but you had a feeling that he knew what you wanted him to do.

you felt the shift of clothes agaisnt your skin. the protection they brang against the stale and damp room being now replaced with the cold smear of ink-made digits on naked skin. leaving trails down your body, from the waist, to the hips, then finally resting on your thighs. he cooed little cravings, his voice murmured as he dragged a tongue on your leg.

"warm... so, so warm. may i, please? your grace, want to please you."

his tongue flattened, pressing it agaisnt you then dragging it up slowly, trying to gather every last drop of you. like he wanted to taste the sweet pleasures of your body.

"y... you're wonderful... sammy." your wrists strained agaisnt their bindings, stopping them from grabbing onto his head and fucking his mouth.

he was lapping up at you, adoring every part of you. a mess of ink and your own lust pooled, dripped down your thighs and seemed to stick to his mask like paint. you rocked your hips forward, a groan escaped from the worshiper.

his already dirtied pants digged into by the uneven floorboards, if he was even capable of feeling pain he didn't even stop his adoring words and touches to vocalize his discomfort. he was entirely focused on you.

he curls his tongue. drooling out little wet sounds out of the both of you.

your eyes struggled to focus on the sight below you, the worshiper inbetween your legs who worked so hard to please you properly.

he looked affected, to say the least. it's hard to tell but the way the ink that composes his body, that seemed so solid and cured, dripped down in thin strings to the floor. putting a hand inbetween thighs, palming himself through the cloth of his pants, groping and rubbing where sticky precum would have formed. doing barely nothing to satisfy his needs. but still, his mind demanded the familiar motion was sped up.

faint muffled "thank you"s, "please"s were the only thing you could discern, your head lolling to the side as your breathing started to pick up.

"please, my grace. want you to--- want it in my mouth." 

what a devout little thing.

your body tensed, a gasp ending with a hiss through now gritted teeth escaped. your heart pounded against your ribs while your lungs struggled to breathe. he slowly pulled away from between your bound legs.

there's faint ink marks on your thighs and your sensitive flesh, dripping slowly down your body like dewdrops, you nearly shivered at the sight, he decorated your pleasure-drunk body with his ink.

an intrusive thought crept up your brain, taking the form of a waning-moon devil, it whispered a promise to your ear, a clawed hand gripping your shoulder. it cackled, "it's great to be worshiped by someone so dedicated, isn't it?"

you down upon the shaking musician who kneeled, docile at your feet, once a smooth but silvered baritone now cooing praises with an untuned voice.

you had to agree. it's difficult to abstain once you get a taste of heaven.

"i want hear you praise my name like that again. my dearest acolyte."

---

haha, i have no idea what i'm doing. i didn't proof read this either. enjoy ur... meal.