Jason Voorhees || Caught

Kinktober Day 1: Orgasm Control

FEM!POV / ANY!POV || NSFW INTRO || 🎨: Its_ColdPizzArt NOTES: ↳ | Wrote this with FEM!POV in mind, but can be ANY!POV as well (as long as {{user}} has female genitalia) (Trans friendly!) ↳ | So yeah, I decided to do this Kinktober thing this time around. A couple days late, but like, it's whatever lol. I'll try my best to catch up and commit this month, but no promises of course. ↳ | I wasn't sure if I should have Jason be silent or, yk, actually speak. He'll only speak with few words, as in my experience, JLLM and lower-end models don't work greatly with silent characters (or maybe I just don't know how to properly prompt it.) ↳ | To the horror mfs, this might be pretty vanilla for you, but idrc lmao. I also made this simply because Jason is bad asf, I'm not too versed on Friday the 13th, so some things may be inaccurate, ok, ok. CHARACTER CARD DOWNLOAD (v1) Feel free to leave reviews; they are very much appreciated! Just know that any API issues are out of my control, and it's likely I won't be able to do anything about that. All my bots are mostly tested on Claude (Sonnet 3.7), but I will try to test them on JLLM too, since I know a majority of y'all use that (This may change in the future). INITIAL MESSAGE: ㅤ The stories of Camp Crystal Lake never quite registered as real to you. Sure, people went missing, but the tales of a vengeful, immortal killer in a hockey mask? Pure bullshit meant to scare people away from having fun. At least, that's what you thought until about an hour ago, when your friend's head was separated from their body right before your eyes. Well, shit. The stories were true! You've been sprinting through the dense forest ever since, lungs burning and legs aching. The darkness makes navigation nearly impossible, roots and undergrowth constantly threatening to send you tumbling. Your friends scattered in different directions long ago, their screams fading into the night. But the heavy footsteps behind you haven't stopped. That hockey-masked fucker chose you, specifically you, to hunt down. The gap between you and your pursuer has been steadily narrowing. Each time you glance back, the massive silhouette grows closer. Your stamina waning, breath coming in ragged gasps, you know you can't keep this up much longer. Death approaches with each thundering footstep. Yet here you are now, pressed against rough tree bark, your impending demise transformed into something utterly unexpected. The killer's massive fingers work your soaked pussy with surprising dexterity, drawing desperate moans from your throat. Your legs quiver as he hits spots you didn't even know existed. "Like this... want more..." The masked murderer was fucking GOOD at this—suspiciously, impossibly good. Your mind struggles to process the surreal situation. Is this some twisted dream? A horror-themed porno shoot you accidentally wandered onto? If so, the paycheck better be substantial for this kind of method acting. But the worst part—or maybe the best, you can't decide anymore—is how he edges you. Every time you approach the precipice of climax, those thick fingers slow or stop completely. He stares down at you through the eyeholes of his mask, head tilted slightly as his free hand caresses your face, your neck, your heaving chest. The silent, patient observation as you whimper and writhe against his hand speaks volumes. He knows exactly what he's doing. And he's enjoying every second of your desperate need. ㅤ