~Creepypasta x Reader (One shots)~ Completed

Eyeless Jack Part Two (Lemon)

A/N: Before we get this started -WARNING THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS EXTREME VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT AND EXPLETIVE LANGUAGE. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE. Warning done, now enjoy earthlings~

The cold air of the lab slithered over your skin like serpents; chills racing over your damp flesh as you carefully crept through the despicable place that had become your reluctant home for the past few months. Every movement jostled your freshly stitched side, the pain benumbed slightly by the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins wildly and the lingering effects of the morphine he had granted you as a gift for good behaviour –as if you were his fucking pet. But no, pet was too discreet a term for what you were to him, for what he had reduced to in just three short months.

Was there even a word to describe being diminished to the point of starvation? To feel the rough sandpaper of your tongue scrape against the roof of your mouth and the painful cracks upon your bloody lips as you thirsted for water? To survive only on the vitamins and liquids he pumped into your system through drips to keep you sane and clear-headed for the most part, but not strong enough to even dream about escaping? Or worst, being finally given the food and hydration you so desperately craved for a few days to build up just enough energy to feel vaguely normal again only to be pinned down, plundered and used against your will?

Oh wait there was: slave. You were his slave and meant to do his bidding and be subjected to his twisted needs and desires no matter how brutal or costly the price was.

Well he could go fuck himself because you refused to endure this hell any longer.

Releasing a low hiss of breath, you gingerly touched your stitched side, relieved that the warm damp sensation of blood met your searching tips to indicate that the wound hadn't re-opened. You shuddered at the recollection of the impromptu 'surgery' he had performed for you, the memory still fresh in your battered and bruised mind as your muscles cramped from the crouching position you adopted behind the steel frame of the examination table. The clinical scent of anaesthetic and cleansing alcohol were potent in the chilly air, the musky stench of raw organs sending you careening back to just four days before...

You gritted your teeth, you jaw clenched against the screams that tore at your vocal chords, scraping the walls of your throat raw as the pain surged through you with cold, vicious vehemence. It thrummed through your system like black frost laced with mercury, leaving your limbs heavy and numb yet so unbearable sensitive to the excruciating agony darting through your frayed nerves. The steel kisses of the scalpel as it slowly carved open your flesh to draw hot, sticky streams of blood that ran over your skin like water throbbed in your head like a bad tooth. The tears stung your (e/c) eyes, the shimmering liquid gathering in you field of vision before it overflowed over your overheated cheeks.

It hurt –by God it hurt. But crying out would only give him pleasure. Crying out would only make things worse.

The restraints on your arms and legs burned, the flesh bruised and aggressive red from the tight band of material binding them, the decoration of dark purple bruising and broken bloodvessels telling the tale of your previous struggles against them when this happened before. First a sliver of your liver, then your spleen and now what? Perhaps a kidney?

He did seem to have a fancy to those since he accumulated jars crammed full of that particular organ the most. Then again, he did say he would settle for anything –and proved it to you the few times he had brought back another victim only to tie them down as he did to you now and forced you to watch as he ripped them open and tore out their entails with feral savagery, feasting on the fleshy tissue smeared with thick scarlet blood that stained the air with the stench of metal, of death. Their screams still rebounded in your mind, shrill and piercing as the drilled holes into your sanity and resolve as you sat helpless to aid them in any way. He made sure to remind you of that, performing those deliberate 'shows' for his malicious amusement and to prove that you were weak and pathetic in comparison to him. To hint at just what demise you would face if you displeased him.

He tried to break you.

But you weren't completely shattered yet.

Even as you lay strapped to his examination table as he performed surgery without anaesthesia so you could feel every tear, every jostling movement, every slice of his trusty scalpel, a part of you still fought, still refused to bow down to him. It was that fire in your (e/c) eyes that drove him to push you to the very extent of your limits, to torture and toy with you until that flame was finally snuffed out. He had the patience for it, even as his inner demons crooned for more blood, more gore.

After all, Eyeless Jack was utterly in control of his own darkness when he chose to be.

You watched on with barely restrained screams of agony as the monster with the sapphire mask, the entity composed of concentrated darkness itself reached into the incision he made riding along your left side just above your hip, the tears blinding everything to a watery haze as the horrid sensation of his nimble gloved fingers shifting around in your cavity, searching for its prize as the pain shot through you like bullets burrowing in your flesh. The darkness licked the edges of your vision, the overload of razor-sharp torture taking its toll on your system as your mind threatened to collapse into the black. But he wouldn't let you fade yet.

Your teeth sank into the bruised tissue of your lower lip as he quickly and efficiently severed his sought item from the treasure trove of your delicious body, his scalpel easily tearing through tendon and flesh like butter as his gloved hand appeared once again, dripping with blood as it clutched a cardinal red appendage up into your line of sight. You honestly couldn't make heads of tails of what he held; only desiring to fall into your own mind to escape this creature, to escape this demon.

The light buzzing filled your ears, you vision misting as the flavour of copper slipped over your tongue, fresh as it welled from the torn soft flesh of you lower lip where your teeth had cut into it in an attempt to stifle your screams. But you still heard him laugh: a rich, dark baritone that rolled through the room like thunder, ominous and foreboding as it sent icy chills racing over your flesh.

"Relax (Y/N). I simply removed your appendix. It's not required for your basic body function," the monster remarked in a sinisterly amused voice, even as your world swam around you from the duress of your traumatic ordeal you could still feel his attention locked on you. He savoured your reactions, finding the fear delectable over your features.

The darkness began to reach over you, ripples creasing over the ink as your eyes caught the tiny disturbances, even as fatigue weighed them to flutter slowly closed.

"I won't kill you yet. It would be a shame to waste such a treat," he purred, the humid wash of his breath brushing over your face, the stench of blood and meat reaching your nostrils to have bile rise up your throat. "Oh but how you tempt me... I'll wait (Y/N) and when the day comes, I know you'll be the greatest feast."

And the darkness fully enfolded you, dragging you into its shadowy chasms even as the cold of his words sank into you, numbing you as you tumbled freely into emptiness.

You started as you snapped back to reality, shaking off the awful memories pervading your mind. Your side stung in phantom pain, the stitches he sewed your flesh together with as professional as those given by the finest doctors and surgeons. Yet they were still tender and you were not supposed to place strain upon them, especially since he had began giving you proper meals again. Which meant one thing: he was giving you enough energy to sate his needs.

This was your only chance to get the hell out before it was too late.

And the clock was ticking.

Plucking up the scant bit of courage you had left, you gingerly crept towards the steel door that sealed the lab. Your bare feet curled against the icy tiled floor, padding softly as your heart thundered in your chest and blood roared in your head. The cold penetrated the paper thin nightgown you wore but adrenaline numbed you to the sensation, your breath shallow and hitching as your clumsy fingers clutched to the hair pin you managed to hide from him. Picking locks was second nature to you ever since your mother began punishing you by locking you in your room or maybe even the closet overnight when you were too young to fight back. The memory stirred sentiments too heavy and complicated to comprehend, emotions you shoved to the side as you drew a steadying breath and pulled apart the bobbypin to leave you with a long flat metal piece before you bent back the pin to create a length of metal wire to use as a pick.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you summoned up the information you needed, sticking your pin one centimetre into the lock, pushing the rest of the pin to the left to bend it slightly. Withdrawing the pick you examined the result and pursed your lips in satisfaction, moving on to bend the other end of the pick in on itself to create a handle. Afterwards, you bent half of the pin to a right angle from the rest of the metal. Happy with your lever, you started on the task before you.

Ignorant of the beads of sweat beginning to dew on your forehead, you inserted your lever into the bottom half of the lock, sticking in the bent end and keeping it as low as possible while simultaneously slotting in the lever deeply into the barrel. The first step done, you placed your hand on the knob, turning the lock slightly in the opening direction whilst using the lever as a key to turn the lock, ensuring the pressure isn't too heavy to strain against the lock. When you heard no clicking noises, you understood you chose the right direction for the lock.

Hand trembling slightly yet (e/c) eyes intense with concentration, you inserted your pick with the bent side up to feel for the pins. You pushed a few of them up as you worked carefully, mentally counting pins and which moved freely and which appeared stuck. A few appeared to be stuck, which you solved by keeping a consistent pressure on the lever and gently pushing up the pin until you heard a soft click. You repeated the process with each seized pin, redoubling to see if others had seized in the process.

When you were finally done, you hesitated, breath caught in your throat as the sweat beaded upon your brow. You heart cantered in your chest, your teeth biting down on the gum it chewed on to draw blood that danced across your tastebuds like the favour of copper. Cursing yourself for cowardice, you gradually turned the lock, half dreading half hoping the outcome of your efforts. You weren't sure if you could handle failure at this point, your mind in a fragile state as all your hopes hinged on whether this goddamn door opened or not.

Gritting your teeth, your bloodless fingers turned the handle, pushing against the steel barrier tentatively. When the door opened an inch, giving the faintest glimpse into the passage beyond, elation spurted through you in a fierce flood of beautiful, bright hope. You did it. You beat the lock. You could escape.

Naturally, you were far from freedom yet but the small victory was enough to kindle a flame of anticipation in you, a fire to see this plan through to the end. Unaware of the ecstatic grin your cracked lips curved into, you pushed open the door fully, taking a single wonderful step out into the open –only to be rebuffed forcefully as you slammed head first into a hard body.

Fuck.

The fear shot through you like lightning, sizzling through your nervous system as your breath jack-knifed as the faith that so fruitfully bloomed shrivelled up and died in that very instant. You recognised him immediately, the dead giveaways hitting you like a brick to the face one after the other in quick succession that escalated with your fleeing pulse. The granite hard texture of his form as a result of conditioned muscles against your still fragile body, the blood-restricting vice of his gloved hands as they snatched onto your wrists with a strength powerful enough to snap bone like twigs; the ungodly scent –the putrid stench that hung off him like smoke of fresh blood, flesh and raw meat. It was vaguely reminiscent of a butchery store, nauseating as it punched your senses in a knockout blow that had your stomach lurching even as you clamped down and refused to let the stomach acid overflow.

Then came the visual recognition, the almost mocking crystal clear clarity of your terrified (e/c) eyes as they made a slow amble up from the dark grey sneakers specked with crimson, up to his worn pitch jeans cloaking long legs and narrow hips equipped for speed, over the ebony hoodie that was still slightly damp with liquid you didn't want to linger on, to finally land on the sapphire mask that haunted you during your every waking moment –and remained a taunting presence in your blackest nightmares.

Pitch black holes gazed at you in the place of eyeballs, rivulets of oily ink black tears rolling down the bright throbbing sapphire blue of the mask that disguised his features. Dishevelled auburn hair framed his disguised face, gleaming like copper in the right light. But you didn't need to see his face to know what expression his feature's were twisted in, you didn't need him to speak to comprehend the biting arctic burn of his rage as it radiated off him like malleable frost bite.