Laylah (laylah) wrote in kinkfest, @ 2008-07-09 09:05:00 |
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Entry tags: | a: laylah, f: persona 3, july 09, p: ken/other |
"Nyctophobia," Persona 3 (shadows/Ken)
Title: Nyctophobia
Author: Laylah
Rating: not worksafe
Warnings: TENTACLE SHOTA NONCON and also October spoilers
Word count: ~1100
Prompt: Persona 3 - shadows/Ken - tentacles - Nyctophobia (fear of the dark)
He can't tell the others. They wouldn't believe him, and Sanada-san and Kirijo-san might even tell him he deserved it. That makes it worse. He can't ask for help.
Ken's never liked the Dark Hour -- he thinks probably nobody likes the Dark Hour, except maybe those guys in Strega -- but he wasn't terrified of it before he -- before -- before it got like this. When he goes to bed now, Ken leaves a light on. He'd leave them all on if he could get away with it, but he's pretty sure Sanada-san would notice and ask him about wasting all that electricity.
It doesn't help, anyway. The Dark Hour comes and the light goes out, and Ken lies awake, shivering, waiting for his eyes to adjust and looking in the corners as if he could get away, if he could see them in time. Maybe tonight it'll be okay. Maybe they won't come. There've been a few nights when he just lay awake, waiting, nervous, until the lights came back on, and the shadows didn't so much as --
Something curls around his ankle, cool and firm, and Ken whimpers. He kicks at it, but that just gets his other foot captured, too.
"Miss me?" the darkness says.
"No," Ken whispers. The shadow has Shinjiro-san's voice. "You're not real."
It laughs, and the things around Ken's ankles curl, sliding up further, coils looped around his legs. The dark in the room gets thicker, heavier, no moonlight coming in the window now.
"You're not real," Ken says again. If he weren't so afraid he thinks this might stop happening. "Shinjiro-san is dead."
"Whose fault is that?" the voice asks. It's just a shadow trying to hurt him, Ken reminds himself. It's not him.
"I didn't," Ken protests. The shadow tentacles are up past his knees now, and he knows better than to reach for them, but he can't help it. "I didn't do it."
He can feel the tentacles under his hands splitting, so they can take hold of his wrists and snake around his arms, too. "But you wanted to," Shinjiro-san's voice says. "And you got what you wanted, but you're not happy." It feels like -- like tongues, against his skin, squirming under the hem of his pajamas. Ken bites his lip, tries to keep quiet. He wants to stop being so afraid, but he knows that next --
The shadows lift him up off the bed, twisting and squirming across his skin -- he thinks he hears a seam tear, and he won't be able to explain that, won't be able to ask to have the ruined clothes replaced. "No," he says, and he wants to sound certain but instead he sounds terrified, because he knows what comes next. The shadow tentacles are multiplying, covering him, wrapping around his body everywhere they can reach, writhing against his skin. He feels the slide of shadows up the back of his neck, the whispering awful touch as they plug his ears, the dull pressure when one soft coil covers his eyes.
He can still hear his own little having-a-nightmare noise as the tentacles crawl across his face, just before the first ones press against his lips. The first time he bit, when they did this to him, but it tasted terrible when he did that and the shadows didn't stop. Now when they pry his mouth open he might struggle, can't help that, but he doesn't fight hard enough to make them hurt him. What they do already is bad enough.
They've covered almost his entire body by now, writhing, pressing, and in some spots he feels ticklish and other spots are just too sensitive, too intense, creepy and uncomfortable. The ones in his mouth pet his tongue, his cheeks, the roof of his mouth, and Ken tries not to choke. It's gross and it's creepy and the shadows can't be through with him yet, because they haven't --
"Waiting for this?" the shadow-that-isn't-Shinjiro-san asks, and the shadow tentacles squirm under his shorts. Ken shakes his head, no, no, but he shadow pushes into his ass anyway and it feels too big, always feels too big, but there's nothing he can do to stop it. It squirms inside him, rubbing against this weird spot that's always too sensitive and makes him feel like he needs to pee. He can't help moving when it does that, trying to get away even with nowhere to go.
The shadow laughs again. "You like it that much, huh? You want more?"
Ken whimpers, and the sound comes out louder than he expects as the tentacles in his mouth drag his jaw open wider. For a second there's cool air against his tongue, and then the space gets filled up with more shadows, and he chokes.
"Man, that feels so good," the shadow-voice purrs. "It just never gets old, does it?" It moves -- they move -- it's hard to tell if this is all one shadow or if they're in a pack -- slowly, shifting and pushing and -- and swelling, he'd swear, getting bigger once they're already inside him. When the second one slides down the back of his shorts Ken sags, shuddering at the sensation and the horror. The second one aches and the third one, a few minutes later, burns, and he wonders how long it's been and prays the Dark Hour is almost over by now because if he takes any more than this he thinks he'll split right open.
And then another cool shadow tentacle pushes its way down the front of his shorts, twining around his dick. It teases at the slit like it's -- like it's curious, and Ken shakes his head no no no, but he doesn't have anywhere to run and of course because he's terrified it's going to push further -- one cold thin shadow tentacle squirms up into the hole in his dick and Ken whines high up in his throat like a hurt dog because it's awful, and the shadow's laughing at him and -- all the tentacles tighten in around him, crushing the breath out of his lungs, more of them rubbing against all the places where they're already inside him like they're trying to see if they can fit any more in there and he can't, he can't take any more, can't --
The light comes back on with a little pop and hum, and Ken falls to the mattress, the shadows gone. It's almost like it never happened at all, except for the oily smoke taste in his mouth and all the sore spots.
He crawls under the blanket and pulls it tight around him, but it's a long time before he can get to sleep. Even with the light on.