𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗡𝗬? J.C

Chapter 4

Corn was almost out of time. Well, he was out of time but he'd rather think that there was still a chance to stop this.   There was no way for him to ask her to leave - even with her being the spawn of Satan, or married to him, that was never really clear - because Jess wouldn't allow it.

Of course, it would be so simple for him to try. It's not like he did. It's not like she stretched and groaned just like the people he had seen her skin alive. And it's so not like he listened to her beg and plead like the people she had skinned.

Not like that all, because he really hadn't seen her skin anyone. He's just trying to remind himself that this was Jess.

Soon enough they would have to figure out sleeping arrangements. He looked over to the cosplaying thot, his hands desiring to tug at the wig and reveal the demon underneath. Soon enough...

'*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;* '*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;* '*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;*

Jessica was almost out of time. She really thought that after corrupting her vegetable nemesis for so long that he would, y'know, actually do something. BEYOND SIGHING.

This thinking had turned out to be wrong and this entire night showed that. Maybe he smirked once or some shit, but how many times had he sighed? How many times has she made obvious advances just to be blown away with a pathetic woosh of air? Too many times.

And yeah this new thought that had switched her clothes from Lana to a horse singing fuck this shit I'm out had nothing to do with Corn's staring.

Nothing to do with this strange feeling building up inside her, that wanted her to get closer to him, and reach out to touch the sides of his face.

'*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;* '*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;* '*:;,．★ ⌒ ☆・:.,;*

Corn can't breathe. He can't speak. And all he can hear is heavy breathing. And it's not his own erratic heartbeat pounding up to the skies and down to hell. It's the footsteps. Behind him, in front, left, right, it's everywhere. Crashing and creating shockwaves, each an earthquake resonating throughout the apartment.

No further than that - if he's thinking is correct - the entire complex. The street. Hell, it could be the entire city. And he doesn't know what to do except-

"Con?" She had said looking at him softly, whispering in a tone that made it seem so personal. As if this word had conveyed her very soul.  Uncertainty weighing down parts of the word, making it come out shaky. 

"Con?" He repeats. Maybe it would be smarter to not reply - to keep whatever was in the air between the two in the air - but had seemed so unlike her, so innocent. Was she perhaps admitting what he had known all along? That this was nothing more than dirty dildo con?

And it must have been an elephant floating above them because with that one word spoken it came crashing down. He was thrown at the ceiling with such force that when landed flat on his back he couldn't stand. It was pain but not painful , all his thoughts too consumed by 'I can't move', by fear, that he couldn't think of pain. 

What the hell- he manages to stand but sees no sign of Jessica - What the hell happened.

His answer comes in meaty manly grunts. "GRUSGEUDIHENONS BOBS."

The hairs on his neck leap up, skin crying for escape, he can feel it build up on his palms before splattering everywhere. He recognized the voice, in a sense. Though, he never considered it real.

It was just a joke. He's running, hide, hide, hide. Something stupid that was just made up. He hears the inhuman grunts come closer, becoming more obscene in nature, distract, distract, distract. IT'S NOT REAL.

And then suddenly it becomes real. 

"Henlo, am Hugo. Veri sexi an manli. At old wif, show bobs?" He could hear it flirting and screamed. 

"SIGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

(A/N) Words: 669 

Happy Borthday Crackhead, I was working on art but then I procrastinated and it's only a semi colored outline missing a head so yeah JoRnY uPdAtE!