Saccharin『 yandere o.shots』

Timothy Wright | Masky ☣️

the springs of the couch creaks with each little adjustment you make in position, sitting criss-cross with your spine against the back rest and your laptop supported by your thighs as you searched frame-by-frame every little detail that might pop out against the crunchy quality of the video. the brightness harsh on your eyes as the fan blew out in the gap of your legs, fingers cramping throughout the entire back and forth of scanning each detail, searching for anything out of place.

then, you pressed to move to the next frame. the scenery was harsh, a silhouette, it was subtle, camouflaged in the darkness and the tallness of the trees, but you still knew that there was something there. 

your eyes water from the brightness as you began to jam the contrast setting to a hundred. there, red line of something, framed by white diamond shapes. a collar and tie, leading up to a white---

your laptop clatters against the floor. you grasp your head your body doubles over, tipping, tipping, tipping down until the cushion dipped, loud against your eardrums as your arms shielded your face from the rough carpet.

your body slams against the living room floor, your own body heavy against your straining arms, shaky as you try to find purchase on the rug, sweaty fingers gripping flock and nearly tearing it out as you crawl somewhere.

your head spins, pin-pricked pupils swinging around like a cat-clock. you gag, but nothing comes out, only dry coughs and heaves that shook your entire body. every inhale of air you're forced to take itches your throat like coarse bristles, sanding it down with each gasp.

your desperate clawing and coughing eventually beckons the attention of someone. with rushing footsteps, the toe of their boots bump against your sweaty forehead as you accidentally headbutt their shoe.

then, you finally look foward and upwards. the coughing ceases for a moment, but only through sheer will.

a round shaped face interrupted by the bristles of growing beard, connecting to his sideburns and warm brown hair. his expression of concern.

tim. you almost forgot about him, he was decked in a  casual grey shirt and jeans, the orange-mustard jacket folded over his arm, he looked ready to leave his house. you feel a pang of unnecessary guilt, first you're hogging his couch and now he has to deal with cleaning blood off the carpet? he needs a break.

a minute passes as he stares your bloody, desperate face. his expression smoothes over, there is no worry, he is calm, composed, he crouches over to look at the screen of the laptop, nothing but static. then, he turns back to you, putting a hand on your back. 

he says your name, "you'll be okay. just let it out." he begins to pat it. and just like that, the dam breaks as you smell iron, throat closing up and almost tasting salt on your tongue. your breathing clogs, a runny droplet of something warm touches your cupid'd bow. your dry coughs soon enough become wet, gurgling and spitting blood on his rug.

your throat burns as soon as the fit stops, a moment of silence as you slowly sit up, using him as a support, hanging onto his shoulders as you began to stabilize yourself and---

there is pressure against your skull, through your brain, like a lobotomy. like a vessel deep, deep inside have suddenly popped. you couldn't even process it, it almost felt like as if something was wrapped around your brain, squeezing it like it would release anything. a pain that if you tried to focus on, it'd disappear into pulsating numbness.

--- you fall back on your knees, accidentally bringing tim down with you, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as you cowered over his sitting form, pressing your face against his torso as if he could shield you from this pain, burrowing against him.

"it'll be over soon." he murmurs against you, his chin resting on top of your head. he rubs your nape comfortingly, you burrow your face on his neck, a bizarre nimicry of an action one does during a hug.

you press harder, now aware of your actions. neck, pulse, carotid artery. your vision focuses on the spot near his ear, a tunnel vision.

then, another nail of pain strikes your skull, spinning, like a sawblade, or twisting, like snuffing out a cigarette. it gets too much, your jaw loosens upon the want---no, need to scream, but your teeth clicks shut.

muffle it.

the static inside your brain turns more intense, your mouth feels dry and shaky, your jaw opens again, pried open against your will, but then you force it shut. there's something inbetween your teeth, you pay it no mind as you scream around the gag, muffling your cries.

you don't hear his scream, maybe drowned out by your own and the feeling of a pulse against your tongue. 

another burst of salt floods your mouth, except this time, you plead it's involuntary, your mind welcomes the taste, your jaw pushes itself upwards, digging, not to put a gag on your screams but this time for something else, you don't know if it was a momentary hallucination due to stress or if your tastebuds really detected something different.

you don't notice tim brush his fingers over your nape, though if you do feel his hand pushing you deeper against his shoulder it's likely that it's just a trick of the brain. but, it doesnt really matter to you, too engrossed in trying to find it again, taste it again.

it's not like he's encouraging you, he just really isn't that special of a guy. so why would he?

---

augh, it's been a while since i delved into MH or slendervese, so my characterization might be a bit off. i have no idea what happened and why MC is now 'vampiric'. i somehow mixed two different concepts into one.

i have no idea what to categorize this as aside from 'disturbing content'.