Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night is eerily quiet save for the occasional cricket, scream, and gunshot you heard. At least the walls protected you from the outside world, where everything had gone to shit. Blinds engulfed the windows to shield you from the hideous sun, but you occasionally glanced outside to stare at the stars. It was one of the only things keeping you sane. 

You lived with your older brother, who would never let you travel outside, not even for a second due to his extreme paranoia. In fact, it wasn't like you did anything at all before the world became horrible—you at least got to see the stars and experience the night air perfectly. It's a safe house, for now, but you've become anxious because of the presences your brother has allowed in. 

Aware of your attitude, your brother told you that it wasn't necessary to interact with the guests. So, you stuck to yourself and avoided anyone unless they spoke to you first. Thankfully, no one wanted to wipe that scowl off your face. It was past midnight, and you were slumped in an armchair across from a lanky man who's ass was pressed to the desk across from you. His grey sweater was faded, and a shadow of hair stuck to his jaw. 

After a moment, Yakob shifted and his eyes locked with yours before he parted his lips and decided to snap you out of your thoughts. "Man, I could really use something to drink right now." He sighed, his tone careful as to not set you off. "Need something to burn my throat, you know what I'm saying?" You weren't sure if you knew what he meant, but you weren't about to question him. You wanted to be left alone, you barely trusted him in the first place. 

"We have beer," you shrugged your shoulders and attempted to avoid his gaze, afraid it would slowly unpeel your being. You treasured the remains of your sanity. "Will that satisfy you, sir?" Your brother reminded you to be polite, as these people had struggled for long enough. That was when you reminded him of what he had done to you. Yakob leaned forward, his hands clasped together loosely. 

"Beer's a start," his voice was a rough rumble with each word that escaped it. He scratched absentmindedly at his angular chin, the bristles of his goatee rasped with each movement. "Been too long since I've had a proper drink. The good stuff, I mean. Not that piss they try to pass off these days." He grumbled, you assumed, to himself. You rose to your feet and strolled into the kitchen where you quickly returned with a beer bottle in your hand.

The bottle hissed as the carbonation escaped into the air, and you noticed how strangely loud it seemed. "Thank you, miss." Yakob grabbed the bottle from your hand and took a long pull from it, a satisfied smile tugged at his lips once he withdrew his lips away from the cap. "Why don't you grab one too? A girl like you could use it, help loosen you up." 

"You think so?" You cocked your head at him, inquisitive to what he meant. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how the others perceived you—you were a slip of a teenage girl, full of hormones and anxiety. All you craved was to be left alone, left to be forgotten about. Your brother would never let that happen. "I've never drunk before, I'm not even old enough." 

"It's not like that's the most pressing thing to be worried about," Yakob barked out a short burst of laughter before he took another swig. "Had my first at 12."

"Oh, shit, really?" 

Yakob's eyes glinted with something you were unable to define, which churned your stomach. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in a dismissive gesture, his lips pulled together into a smug grin. "For real," he confirmed in a low rasp. He set down the beer on the desk with a soft thunk, and he leaned against the edge with his arms folded over his chest. His posture is relaxed, but you can still sense the subtle tension in the way he held himself together—you weren't sure if you wanted to know more. "Tell you what, though," he hummed. "You might be a lightweight. Might wake up with your older brother with a house full of vomit." 

"Lightweight?" You cocked your head, your lips formed in a frown. "What's that mean?" 

"Means your little body ain't used to booze, get all giggly and silly." The adult explained, a hint of amusement in his voice. His elbows rested on his knees while he focused on your expression, too curious for his own good about you. It was only natural, with how closed off your family seemed. "That's not good for a pretty little thing like you. Might attract all sorts of wrong attention. Especially from that Gravedigger guy." 

Your heart skipped a beat from what he meant, and you seemed to frown harder at his words. "I can handle it." You said. "I'm not a child." You cringed momentarily because you did, in fact, sound like an impudent brat once the words left your mouth. A sigh escaped you as Yakob's back pressed into the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. 

"Didn't say you were a child," he pointed out. "Just said you were a pretty girl." Yakob's eyes scanned your body up and down, which suddenly caused you to feel self-conscious. It was as if he saw straight you, bones and all. "Ain't about being a kid, just knowing your limits." You stood up and stepped over to the fridge where you snatched a cold one. The amber liquid sloshed in the bottle once you popped the cap off and took a huge sip from it. 

"That's it, good girl." The reincarnation believer was quite fascinated by your grimace at the nasty taste of the beer. "Take it slow, though. Don't go trying to impress anyone by chugging the whole thing." He studied you with a speculative gaze that inspired you to crawl out of your own skin. He reached out and his long fingers brushed over your hand, his touch warm and lingering for a moment too long. "You're a quick learner, though—even if you have a lot to learn about life, about people." His voice became lower. "About men."

"I know a lot about men," your eyes narrowed as you peered back into his. "Are you like, what, trying to get into my pants?" 

"Yeah," Yakob's lips were curved into an approving smile once your eyes snapped wide open. "You've got a fire in you, kiddo. Makes me wonder what's shaped you into the girl you are today, especially with that older brother of yours." He pointed a crooked digit at you, which caused your heart to thump in the chambers of your breasts. "So, gonna spread those legs for me? Or am I going to have to force you?" 

"What the hell?" Your lips formed into a pout, your heart racing within the casket of your chest. You had known him to be quite unpredictable, with a fixation on reincarnation—you didn't think he'd be into teens, though. "I'm... younger than you, dipshit. Isn't that sick and wrong?" Your voice trembled, and you cringed from the sound, attempting to pretend you weren't suddenly afraid of what he could do to you. "I'm like, what, probably the same age as your girl."

"Yeah, young enough to be my daughter." You watched as his tongue dragged across his lips, his eyes fixed on yours. His cock throbbed in the cleft of his legs, aching to be buried inside your too tight depths. He wondered if you were a virgin—probably, considering how territorial of yourself you seem. "Young enough to not be a nagging bitch, young enough to be perfect just for a night." It was unbelievable what you were hearing, but you noticed the way your clit twitched. From the attention, of course. "Who the hell who truly cares anymore? Not like 'm gonna get arrested." 

Your face burned from the sheer embarrassment of what he was suggesting, and your stomach churned once more. "That's disgusting, I care." You folded your arms over your chest. You weren't sure what he saw in you, especially during such dire circumstances.

"I don't, and maybe in another life, you wouldn't either. Why do you insist on suffering in your life? Allow me to make you feel good, just for a night. You helped me, I need to help you." His voice was as saccharine as honey, which disturbed you beyond relief. This was incomphrensible*** to your teenage mind. "You know, you remind me of Trisha so much. You look just like her." He pleaded, and you tasted bile on your tongue.

You swallowed it back down, the ambiguity of what he would do to you was so nauseating.

"At least let me ask you a question, missy."

"What is it?" You asked despite yourself.

"Has a lucky bastard gotten his hands on you yet?" Yakob demanded, his gaze intense as if his pupils knew the density of your bones. It was a strange sensation. "Got to feel that sweet kiddy snatch on his prick?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and remembered the feeling of your brother's hands upon you. You were a deeply perverted individual, you were now realizing. "My brother."

Yakob blinked before he stared off in the direction of his room, his lips pulled together smugly. "Knew he was a sicko. Bet he's the possessive type, huh? He won't need to know about this," he inched closer towards you until your personal space was invaded. You felt sickened, and you wondered if there was any salvation you could salvage. It was a futile effort. "Keep your voice down, kiddo."

A gasp ripped from your throat once he lunged forward and captured your lips in a searing hot kiss, you attempted to squirm, but his grip engulfed your wrists which held you in place against your seat. Yakob pressed himself into you and rutted like a puppy in heat. As much as you were programmed to resist it, the alcohol burned your rationality, and you were helpless against the grown man. Yakob kissed you desperately, his tongue flicking in and out of your mouth.

He fucking sucked at it. Your brother was so passionate once he claimed your lips because he meant it. This was pure lust.

"Please," you panted into his mouth. "What would he say?" 

Yakob unzipped his fly and yanked his cock free, his hand engulfed around his shaft. "Bet you've never seen a cock like this before, huh?" Smegma stuck to the head, accompanied by the fact it filled a disgusting odor in the room. Your pussy throbbed, dripping down your thighs despite the ache in your stomach. You didn't want this. 

You needed this. 

"Holy shit," you were unable to believe what a forest his crotch was. His balls hang heavy below his shaft, and you hesitantly reached your hand out, stroking him momentarily. A groan escaped his lips and he ground himself further into you, his mind on autopilot. You traced your fingers along his nutsack and squeezed it, which bloomed a flush across his expression. "You like that, you nasty old man?" 

"This nasty old man wants to fuck you with his cock." Yakob said with a half a smile, his eyes narrowed as he addressed you further. "How about you get on your knees for me, darling? Show me how devoted you are to your life." In a less worked up mindset, you would've been sure that was a threat. You sank to your lower half as told, and you pushed your head forward to capture your mouth around his adult length. 

Your tongue worked around his shaft, and you cringed momentarily from the way it hit your tongue. "Tastes sweaty," you complained, yet you flicked your tongue once more which amused him greatly. "When's the last time you got a bath?" You questioned and immediately regretted it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," your lips drooled all over his cockhead, and you lapped up the saliva that dripped down from it. "Mhmm, good girl, lick it all up. Don't waste a single drop," he ran his fingers through your hair and tugged momentarily, which earned a wince from you. "Teen throats just feel better." Yakob was a fucking freak, and you knew better. You fucking knew this was wrong. This was the worst thing anyone was capable of. 

Your nose was pressed to his stinky crotch, and you wondered if you were going to contract a disease from worshipping his cock like the retarded pervert you were. Your tongue slid repeatedly over his shaft until you reached his balls, and you almost choked once he forced them into your mouth. Yakob mercilessly humped your face, using you like a human fleshlight. You cried repeatedly, addicted to his rotten stench. 

"Good girl, such a good girl." He praised you while he patted your head, treating you like a princess despite his brutal assault on your throat. It bulged with the weight of his girth, and you were almost to puke before he withdrew himself forcibly. "Bend over, I'm going to fuck your cunt." Your head spun as you rushed into position, and your heart dropped into your stomach the second his cockhead nudged to your folds. He was about to fuck you, just like your older brother did. 

All you could do was pray he would never discover your infidelity. 

"Dumb cunt," Yakob spat on his palm and smeared it across your pussy before he speared himself inside your cunt, which earned a squeal from your abused throat. You clutched the ground and pushed your ass into the air, submitting yourself entirely to the visitor. "God, you're fucking tight. Tighter than my daughter." Your stomach twisted from pure disgust. You couldn't judge him. 

"Don't talk about your daughter when we're having sex, you fucking pedophile." You moaned and stuck out your tongue like a dog, your cunt tightened around his girth. Yakob rocked himself forward and his cock pulsed within your depths, and you seriously wondered what he was doing, what he was capable of. 

Yakob could've ripped you apart. 

Yakob was sexually humiliating you instead. 

"Shut up," Yakob smacked you across your face and you fucking throbbed around his cock. Oh, dear lord, you were as sick as him. "Take it, you teenage slut. You're going to make me cum so hard, holy shit." He panted in your ear, it was the hottest sound you've ever heard. You sniffled as he slammed your head down while he fucked you from the back. His balls smacked against your clit, and your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over him. 

Your squirt rushed down his balls, the sensation overstimulating him. Yakob rutted into you like a jackhammer, fucking you as if you were an empty sex doll—as if you were a piece of fucking plastic. "You're so good for me," Yakob spat on you, and you took it like a good slut. "Fuuuck, so close. To think we're doing this here, in this life... In another life, we wouldn't. How unfortunate." You weren't listening at this point.

The adult drilled your underage hole with his cock, his throat reduced to a symphony of degrading moans. Yakob smacked you repeatedly, and you felt how close he was. "Don't—don't cum inside, don't want knocked up," you breathed. "I—I'm a little girl, remember? It's wrong..." You sobbed, desperate to salvage your sanity. 

"Shhh, what happens is meant to happen." Yakob squeezed your ass and slammed his cock in you repeatedly, until he unleashed a hot load deep inside you. He deposited it directly into your womb, and you were terrified beyond relief, full of regret that you would allow an older man to do this to you. Yakob slid out of your pussy after a full minute, and he ignored how his cum leaked from your folds. A shudder ran through you. 

You melted into the ground, broken. "Why—why would you do that?"

Yakob stood up and slid his fly up, his face blank. "We'll figure it out."