#Chromeskull

[ivrxquack]

People be like “I can fix them” but they don’t need to be fixed cause they’re perfect the way they are!

Same applies art the clown billy lenz the Sinclair bothers and bubba sawyer I just couldn’t add them unfortunately

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers seeing their future S/O for the first time

Part 2

Including: Billy Lenz, Brahms Heelshire, Jesse Cromeans, Michael Myers & Thomas Hewitt

Warnings: Swearing, (Brief mention) Attempted Sexual Assault, Violence, Mention of Voyeurism, Mentions of death, slashers being slashers. This page is 18+ Minors do not interact.

A/N: AAAND here is part 2! Hope you guys enjoy this first piece. Believe me there are many more to come. Feel free to send requests through!

Billy Lenz:

· Billy was excited about the new tenant in the house, it had been a while since he had any fun. He had been waiting for you to move in since he heard about it. He listened to you all day, moving your stuff around, there were other people too, movers he assumed. All day he listened to your voice and couldn’t wait until he could hear it on the other end of the phone.

· He had spent the day thinking of all the dirty things he wanted to tell you, all the ways he wanted you to scream for him. Of course, he had worked himself up, he waited until not long after midnight and decided to venture into the house. Poking around silently in your things while you slept. It wasn’t until he snuck into the living room did he realise that you were laying on the lounge. He froze not sure if you were asleep or not, luckily for him you were. He crept closer, watching your face. “Pretty, so pretty,” he mumbled to himself over and over again, along with a few other profanities.

· You moved slightly at the sound of his voice, repositioning yourself when he noticed your top slip open slightly revealing some of the bra you wore underneath. Billy could barely contain his ramblings at this, his mumbling getting louder as he pawed himself through his pants. You stirred again and he raced back to the attic as quietly as he could to finish what he had started downstairs. Yes, Billy was definitely excited about his new tenant.

Brahms Heelshire:

· Brahms had to admit, he was hesitant about getting a ‘nanny’. He didn’t trust people and he didn’t want to be left alone. He knew you would be there soon and he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t slightly excited. The knock at the door had him rushing through the walls to one of his hiding spots closest to the entrance. As the door opened he was surprised to say the least, you were younger than he imagined and way hotter. He would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine how he would be able to watch you during your stay, see you in bed, in the bath, some might find it shameful but Brahms was getting excited just thinking about it.

· After listening to you speak to his parents he had decided you would fit nicely into his routine. They had introduced you to the doll and he was surprised to see how at ease you seemed interacting with it. You didn’t stare at them like they were crazy, you were kind and acknowledged the doll as if it was Brahms himself. It made him feel seen, as silly as that sounds.

· Brahms had to admit, he wasn’t sure about getting a nanny at first, but seeing you speaking to the doll and imagining all the ways he was going to keep you on your toes sparked something in him. He found himself more excited than he had been in a long time.

Jesse Cromeans:

· Jesse wasn’t exactly excited to meet his new assistant, his last one had been the definition of incompetent. Jesse was a busy man, he didn’t need to be held up by another useless member of staff, he already had enough of those. The knocking on his door broke him out of his train of thought, “Sorry to interrupt sir,” he didn’t turn around or acknowledge there was a presence in his office, “I just wanted to introduce your new assistant Y/N,” he took his time before turning the chair around and what he saw definitely surprised him.

· He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it hadn’t been you. You seemed so soft and small, innocent in a way, he noticed the way you looked away when he had been staring too long. Jesse stood abruptly, which he noticed seemed to startle you as your eyes met his once again. You didn’t miss the small tilt of his head as his eyes scanned you before holding out his hand towards you.

· He took in your meek demeanour as you approached him and took his hand in your own, you didn’t seem afraid but definitely hesitant, which he could understand. He also noticed the moment you seemed to realise you hadn’t spoken yet, you had stopped shaking hands but neither of you had let go as you looked up at him and spoke, “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” Jesse didn’t miss the stir inside him when you called him that, looking up at him with your bright innocent eyes, “I’m incredibly excited for the opportunity to work for you.” Oh yes, Jesse was a busy man but he was sure he would be finding time to make sure you enjoyed your new position.

Michael Myers:

· Michael was bored. He had that itch that snuck upon him some nights, as he roamed the streets looking for his next kill. It had been almost a week since his last and the buzz hadn’t lasted very long. He had followed a pair of men into a park, they were loud and definitely had been drinking. Drunks make for an easy target, he stayed far enough back that he couldn’t see them but could still hear them so he knew he was on the right path.

· “Well what do we have here,” Michael stopped when he heard one of the men speak, “Shouldn’t be out here alone,” the other man said. “Just leave me alone,” he heard a third voice, a softer voice. Michael moved forward to be able to see what was happening. He stood by a corner just in time to see one of the men grab your arm as you tried to push past them, “Slow down honey, we can take you home if you want.” You pushed him and told them to leave you alone again. The man backhanded you, knocking you down to the ground and the other one crouched down to hold you down.

· Michael wasn’t sure why but something about you made him falter, you seemed so small yet watching you try to fight these men off like you had a chance made him feel something. He wasn’t sure what it was, he wasn’t used to feeling anything but something told him to stop the men. Before you could even scream you heard the man that was still standing groan out in pain and looked up to see a large knife sticking through his chest. “What the fuck,” the other man yelled lunging at Michael, he took care of him quickly. Once both bodies were on the ground he stood there looming over you, he wasn’t sure whether he was going to kill you yet. If it was anyone else they would already be dead, but something about you made him hesitate. You looked up at him and neither of you dared to be the first to move, you broke the silence, “You… you saved me.” Michael just tilted his head, he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. He needed to think, he needed to get away from here. How had a regular night of killing turned into this? Yes, Michael had been bored, but you seemed like someone who would change that.

Thomas Hewitt:

· The heat was especially unkind to Thomas today, he had been called down to help Luda at the service stop. Of course, he never minded helping his mama but the heat in the shop was stifling. He was grabbing some of the last boxes from the store room when he heard the bell on the front door chime. “Oh, look at you dear, my goodness you're all grown up.” Thomas relaxed when he realised his mama knew who was in the store, he had figured it was the new family that had moved in. Luda had told him about an old friend of hers who had moved back with her daughter. She seemed especially excited when she spoke about introducing him to you.

· “Evening Miss Luda, mama wanted me to bring you these.” You say handing over the basket, “Oh goodness, its been years since I’ve had one of your mamas pies.” she checked the contents before replacing the lid, turning back to you she remembered you hadn’t met her son yet. “Tommy, come out here, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” Thomas hesitated before letting out a gruff sigh and walking back into the store. He walked towards you both but kept his eyes to the ground, he didn’t need to see the look of horror on your face when you found out Luda had a monster for a son.

· “This is my boy Thomas,” Luda introduced him, Thomas was expecting you to hide away from him or brush off the introduction all together, but instead he heard your timid voice as you held out your hand, “It’s nice to finally meet you Thomas, I’m sure you’ve heard as much about me as I have you.” He finally looked up then to find the most beautiful pair of eyes he had seen staring straight up at him expectantly, no fear in sight. He seemed taken aback, not expecting you to be so pretty and certainly not expecting you to be so kind. Before he could think any longer he noticed the slight blush across your cheeks and realised you still had your hand out.

· He hesitantly reached out, not sure if he was more afraid of spooking you or himself. Thomas gently took your hand in his before giving it a soft shake. You didn’t know how someone as large and strong looking as him could have such a soft touch. You were both still holding the others hand and staring at each other when Luda broke you out of your trance. “Well now that you’ve finally met, why don’t you and your mama join us for dinner?” Luda suggested. You and Thomas finally broke your gaze and you quickly composed yourself agreeing. You turned back to Thomas, “Well it was lovely meeting you Thomas, I guess I’ll see you tonight.” You smiled at him before turning back towards the door. He felt the blush on his face warming up and realised the Texas heat wasn’t the only thing that’s making him sweat.

[kitsudolly]

Can you blame me though

[robin2radical]

Im sensing a theme with all the characters i like...

[evilvvithin]

LAID TO REST robert hall, 2009

[ebonyslasher]

Sleeping Time

A little something creepy for Valentine's Day. Hope you all enjoy!!

TW: A teeny mention of non-con thoughts in Billy's part

Michael was the subject expert at watching people from afar. Although he was tall, he was easy to miss for those who weren't paying attention. Even when he was on the prowl, ready to kill a nearby target, they still wouldn’t feel his presence until it was too late. 

This was the same with you, as you soundly slept in your soft bed. Pillows surrounded you like a halo, the fan blowing right on your unconscious form. Michael stood off to the side of the bed, watching as you rested. You were none the wiser, not even feeling the aura of his presence in the room.

Michael tilted his head as he observed your relaxed face. You were unlike most he came across, your look was so beautifully unique. At first glance, he was immediately obsessed. His cold eyes took note of your position, on your back with one arm lifted over your head. The only sign that you were alive was the movement from your chest. Something that could be easily taken away, if Michael so chooses. 

But, he doesn’t. He viewed your eyebrows, nose, and ears first. His eyes traveled down towards your mouth, chin, and then your neck. He spent ample time observing, his eyes going back and forth between your features. However, he couldn’t help but gravitate his view towards your neck. Especially when you move your head from side to side. Your neck didn’t look fragile, but it didn’t look strong either. Your skin looked smooth. The appeal of your neck made him want to reach out and squeeze. To see your pretty eyes open in shock and pain as he drained your breath from you. 

But, he doesn’t.

 Maybe one day. 

Danny Johnson was a born stalker. In elementary school, it was seen as a childish quirk that he had. Easily dismissable. In middle school, it started to become concerning, but fluctuating hormones were used as an excuse. With eyes on his behavior, he tried to break the habit. In high school, he tried his best but failed. By adulthood, he had practiced how to get away with it. Now, he was using those skills to watch you. 

Being a journalist had its perks. That meant he could carry a camera with him wherever he went. He had been stalking you for a while, taking notes on where you went and any routine(s) you had. He would often take pictures, usuallywhen you were looking off to the side or down. At first he was excited to have pictures of you so he could hang them in his room. However, he wanted a closer look, getting frustrated with just zooming as a temporary relief. Danny could only get so close to you in public without notice.

Danny planned to break into your house, once he was comfortable knowing the layout. He was already watching you from the window. You had knocked out on the couch with the TV still on. Bingo.

He carefully walked through the front door and silently made his way over to the couch. You didn’t stir at his presence, giving him plenty of time to watch you.

Finally, Danny could look at you closely. He peered at your face, eyes zooming in on your jawline and puffed cheeks. You looked so cute, so fragile. The desire to stab or pinch your cheeks made him smile wildly in glee. But…he didn’t want to ruin that pretty face. 

In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to entertain the image. Ghostface unsheathed his dagger and lightly traced the tip of it right above your jawline and cheek. The peach fuzz on your face raised, the tip of the hair touching the knife. But, your skin was none the wiser. The urge to cut down on your fantastic skin increased. He did not want to ruin the moment, so he retracted the blade from your face. 

He took a moment to look at you again. How peaceful. Danny gets out his phone, making sure the shutter from the camera app was silent. He took up close pictures of each individual part of your face. That cute nose. Beautiful eyelashes. Amazing shaped eyes. Soft, delectable lips. He sighed in pleasure at the view each time his camera focused. 

Once he was satisfied, he walked out of the house. As he made his way home, he began to plan your kidnapping. There was no way he’d let anyone else view your perfect face ever again.

He had been stalking you for 3 weeks now. The first week was spent getting to know your routine, place of residence, car, and whatever else he could find. The second week, he went through the local building department archives, obtaining the blueprint to your house. The third week he solidified his plans, confident with your schedule and house layout. He had broken in a few times while you were away to practice.

However, one thing that he had trouble with was the dilemma of what he wanted to do with you. He needed to decide whether to have you in his collection or to keep for himself. Viewing you from a distance was not enough to make his decision. The pictures hanging in your house didn’t help him decide either. They were not enough, he had to get closer.

It was 2:03 am when he disabled your security system and snuck into your house. He goes straight to your bedroom, not wanting to waste any time. Thankfully, the door to your room was slightly open enough for him to slide through. He goes in, quietly walking up to your sleeping form.

You were sleeping on your side, hugging the pillow under your head. Your arm did not obscure the view from your face, thankfully. Asa focused on the curve of your nose that flowed nicely into wide nostrils. There was a shine against your skin, blessed moonlight rays hitting you from the window. Your eyebrows, which would scrunch intermittently, fanned out beautifully. As he took in more of your features, he wondered between the two options. While stalking you, he would watch your facial expressions often. They were quite alluring.

 If you were part of the collection, he would have to decide which facial expression would be best to accentuate your features. A hard decision, as so many suited you just right. 

But…..

If collected, he wouldn’t be able to see the full range of how you changed your face, especially when you’re being tormented and in pleasure. He pondered on the possibility of that face making delicious expressions. In that case…

It might be better to keep you to himself. 

In the moments that he doesn’t want to gruesomely kill randoms, he likes to watch people. He’s very attached (literally) to his camera and likes to document the small things in life. He would do this to victims he stalked. It makes the build-up to the climax so sweet when they were killed. He intensely set his eyes on you at first sight, making him double-take at your beauty as you crossed the street. You were a knockout. 

As he had his goons follow your every move, they noticed that you were a heavy sleeper. This was great news for Jesse, as he decided to take a closer look. You were knocked out, sleeping soundly in your messy bedroom. Jesse took his shoes off, as his heeled boots could make noise. He did not want to mess up this glorious opportunity. He tiptoed gracefully around everything to get close to you. 

He leaned over, looking at your angelic face. As he appreciated the view, he made sure to record the whole thing, excited to review the footage whenever he felt lonely. Although, he would never admit that. He wanted you to be his little piggy princess.

 But… he had to wait. It wouldn't be fun if he indulged now. 

He continued to gaze upon your sleeping face, excited when you started going through REM. Your eyes shifted quickly under your eyelids and your mouth started to slightly open. His eyes dart to them immediately. It was a moment before you whimpered, eyebrows cutely scrunching throughout your dream. Random body parts would jump and faintly spasm, enthralling Chromeskull each time. It was obvious that you had sleep paralysis. The fight in your body made him excited. Would you act the same under his control, if he tied you up or held you down?

It seemed like the fight was beginning to end. Your limbs were successfully fighting off the paralysis one by one. He took the final opportunity to enjoy a full-body view of you writhing underneath the covers. He knew you were going to wake up soon. He dips silently, walking out the door as you wake up disoriented.

Billy loved to watch. Anything. He was a voyeur. Intimate moments were the forefront of their entertainment. Watching people shower, expel their waste, shave, cry, and masturbate were some of his favorites. It was his own reality tv show. But, the one habit he adored watching was people sleeping.

When Billy watched you sleep, it inspired his imagination to go wild. The thought of doing something to you, even around you, without you knowing made him feral. To imagine and know he could do whatever he wanted was so appetizing. It could be as innocent as caressing your soft hands. Or as devilish as wiping his cock lightly across your face.

The latter weighed heavily on his mind as he leered at you sleeping. You slept haphazardly but that did not hide the curve of your body. As you shift, he drooled at the way you twisted and moved under the covers. He wants to rip them off to see how you truly look. 

Any sounds you made, Billy mentally took note to mimic. But not only that, your whimpers and odd sounds excited him. He wondered what sounds you would make if he pleasured your unconscious body. How he would love to see your face as he did so, imagining your blissed expression in glee. It was his favorite to watch if you had a particularly wild dream or nightmare, to see you toss and turn turned him on further. 

The voyuer that he was loved watching you sleep. He wished he’d forced his parent to buy him a camera. It would have been a favorite pastime  to take photos of your sleeping face. It would provide him ample jerk off material when he couldn’t observe you. Thankfully,  he had plenty fun of jerking off to you as you slept before him.

The curve and plumpness of your lips was a sight to behold. It was equally enthralling watching them slightly open as it was seeing you talk. It turned him on so, so much. His eyes would pop when the covers would hug your form nicely, showing off your luscious curves. In certain positions, your body would look downright divine, often sending him over the edge. 

The best parts would be when you tossed and turned to the point where the covers would start to fall off. The opportunity would give him a lovely view of whatever you had on (or not) to bed. If you were naked, he would go feral!

[stray-cat-with-internet-access]

[darknessbambi]

No normal men for me please

[thesightstoshowyou]

Never Say Never

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Jesse loves himself a cam girl.

Warnings: Reader is a webcam model, noncon, daddy kink, kidnapping, a little blunt force trauma, boot play, bondage, knife play, blood play, blood as lube, sex in a coffin, fingering, overstimulation, creampie, branding.

This was a commission for the lovely @genzisnotokay Thank you for your business!

Gif by @sweeetestcurse

CS: Meet me.

The black letters stretch across your computer screen and your fingers freeze, hovering just above the keyboard. You’re so taken aback that, for a brief moment, you forget you’re on camera. You forget you’re performing. Your practiced smile falters.

CS: C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that. You know I won’t bite.

Just like that, you snap back to reality. Your sly grin returns.

‘Tired of only being able to look and not touch, Jesse?’ you type back. On screen, you see the black suit shift, the shoulders raise and lower with what you assume is a huffed laugh. There’s no sound, never is when you video chat with your most generous client, and his face is never in frame, so you do your best to pick up on his body cues.

Seems to be working out for you so far, if your bank account is anything to go by.

CS: I’ll be doing a lot more than touching when I get my hands on you, baby.

You sound pretty confident I’m gonna agree to this, Mister CS.

CS: When have you ever said ‘No’ to me?

There you go, freezing again.

Truly, the list of debauched things you’ve done for him on camera is close to endless. You’ve readily agreed to it all, and he’s certainly not shy about asking. All that green has proven to be a great motivator.

He won’t show you his face though, no matter how many times you ask. You’re sure this is what stops you from agreeing. That, and the survival instincts that keep you from meeting clients in the first place.

CS: It’ll be worth your time, babe.

A number crosses your screen, a number with more zeros than you’ve ever seen in your life.

Inhibitions be damned.

When and where, Daddy?

***

You’re pretty sure you fucked up the moment that horrible chrome skull mask emerges from the darkness, streetlights glinting off its shiny surface.

And you know you fucked up when that baseball bat collides with the side of your skull.

***

The first sensation to return is pain. Bright, splitting agony arcs through your head and blinds you. It brings a broken cry to your chapped lips and has you reaching through silk to cradle your skull.

Awareness trickles in past the pain, sand through an hourglass, the first grains alerting you to the fact you can barely bend your arm. Palms reach, press against soft fabric—silk. There’s resistance just beyond. To your left, to your right, above you, at your back….

All around you.

Pain ebbs just a little, adrenaline dulling it to replace it with fear. Panic rises and snakes up your throat to choke you. You’re trapped in a narrow box, a container of some sort. Trickling sand, more cognizance falls into place.

Not a box.

A coffin.

Your chest rises, the frenzied scream locked and loaded in the back of your throat. Muscles tense, fists prepare to beat the lid open, legs poise to knee and kick and flail. It all comes grinding to a halt with knocking atop the coffin lid.

TAP TAP TA-TAPTAP….TAP TAP.

Shave and a haircut.

Hinges squeal as the lid is thrown open. Light blasts you in the eyes, temporarily reminding you of the throbbing in the side of your head. Cold air rushes into your prison, raising goosebumps across your skin and spilling into your lungs with your inhale.

Oxygen pours into your blood and kickstarts desperate movement. You heave yourself up and over the side of the coffin. Blinking, scrambling, you feel chilly concrete against your palms. Your fingers bump into something sturdy, rubbery, but it’s gone a moment later.

You only realize it was the toe of a boot when the sole stomps down on the side of your face.

Blinding anguish erupts behind your eyes once again and that scream finally has a reason to fly free. Sleep-weakened hands grasp the sides of the shoe, but there isn’t even a hint of give. Above you looms the shadow of a body, silhouetted against the overhead light, the barest hint of chrome glinting in the darkness. Beyond is a room, dark and basically empty save for a few sheets hanging from the ceiling and those blinding floodlights.

Rubber squeaks near your face—the other boot—as weight shifts. The person pinning you to the icy floor crouches. You jolt when words shriek somewhere overhead, as though a terrified woman is speaking with every new word.

I take it back. I think I might bite.

Your stomach drops at the same moment your heart jams itself into your throat. “J-Jesse?! Jesse please, w-why are you doing this?!” Your trembling voice is muffled and distorted by the boot smashing your cheek into the floor.

Give it a kiss and I’ll show you.

Give what a kiss? Your confusion only lasts a moment as the toe of the opposite boot waggles suggestively before your face. You barely hesitate. The sharp, turpentine scent of shoe polish fills your nose as your lips press to the smooth surface.

With tongue, piggy. C’mon, I thought you were a professional.

Abhorrent chemical flavor bathes your tongue as you drag it along the side of Jesse’s boot. Saliva makes it shine brighter than the polish. Your nose wrinkles and you fight back the bile that begs to burn its way up your throat.

Weight lifts from your head and you would cry out in relief if it wasn’t quickly replaced by a gloved hand digging into your hair. You yelp and sob as you’re tugged back to the coffin. The hand on your head shoves you face first over the side, cheek meeting soft lining.

Rattling meets your ears, dulled by the blood rushing there. Chain slides across metal and wood and cool steel encircles your wrist. It clamps down, digs into your flesh. Shifting weight, fingers grappling with your opposite hand. You won’t let this one be restrained—

Viciously, you are yanked upright and a horrible, serrated blade the size of your forearm is brought just before your face. Reflected in its gleaming surface you see the chrome mask and your own wide, frightened eyes.

Click, click, click, click. His thumb types out a message on some kind of cell phone. You can see it in your peripheral, but can’t make out the words.

There’s no need to read as they are shouted at you the moment he’s finished: Fight me like that again and I’ll just cut off the whole fucking arm and be done with it.

A whimper and a hasty nod are your response. You hand over your wrist and it’s swiftly secured by a shackle attached to the other half of the coffin lid. Both sides have been modified, you notice, a D-ring bolted into the wood. Now, your arms stretch out in a T, knees digging into the concrete floor, Jesse and that terrible blade at your back.

‘Comfy?’ asks the screaming phone. Chest heaving, eyes searching for reason, you crane your head over your shoulder in an attempt to predict what’s coming. Unfortunately, you don’t guess ‘knife cutting away your clothes so sloppily it catches your skin more often than fabric.’

Each slice burns with white hot torment, your own sweat adding insult to injury when it drips into your wounds to sting and sting and sting. Mascara streaks down your face, aided by your tears and your throat grows raw with how fervently you shriek and plead.

When Jesse smooths his hands over your gashes to paint your bare skin in scarlet, you realize the cuts were intentional. The cruelty, the pain, the terror are all by design. You quake uncontrollably, fear, and cold, and pain gripping hold and sinking in deep.

‘There’s that pretty pussy you show off to all those strange men online.’ The flat of the blade slaps sharply against your clit and you cry out in shock, back going ramrod straight.

Not quite as wet as I remember though. Maybe she needs a little help, huh?

Two gloved fingers slide across your back to wet themselves in the blood trickling across your flesh. With no warning, they plunge deep into your cunt. You wheeze and try to scoot away, but the coffin edge against your thighs keeps you right where you’re wanted.

Bloody digits pump and curl and massage and circle until you all but forget they’re coated in gore, that you’re bleeding from multiple knife wounds, that you’re chained to a fucking coffin. You clench your eyes shut and do your best to remind yourself what’s happening to you, what’s likely about to happen to you. Then, your hips tip on their own accord and your back arches and your lips part to exhale a quivering moan.

Cum on them, piggy.

“F-Fuck, n-n-nuuuuugh—“

It’s too late. You crash into climax, crimson coated walls gripping those fingers and telling Jesse exactly what he wants to know. Your shaking voice echoes around the room, pitch rising sharply when the fingers slide from your cunt to rub perfect circles into your clit.

‘Cum again and you get my cock,’ screeches the phone. You don’t have a choice. He knows exactly how to get you there, has seen you do precisely this in all the videos you’ve made for him.

You stammer out some garbled protest, but it’s lost in the wake of the pleasure that unravels in your belly. It forces your legs to shut and bows you forward just as though his hand has returned to your head. It’s nearly too much, but that won’t stop the warm, thick length that settles against your entrance.

Now that’s the pussy we all know and love.

One hand returns to your hair and the other holds the knife flat against your lips. This allows you to see your scream fog up the blade when Jesse surges forward to impale you on that cock he promised.

You don’t know why you say it: “D-Daddy, it h-hurts, it’s too-too much…!”

Shaking behind you, rhythmic, like silent laughter. The hand leaves your hair so the phone can reply, ‘That’s why I’m doing it, baby girl.’

Jesse fixes his grip on your locks and renews his efforts tenfold. You can’t talk anymore, not with the way you’re arched, not with how furiously he brutalizes your hole. Every breath becomes a moan as it’s punched from your lungs, every jostle further tweaking your aching shoulders where they’re stretched wide. Shackles dig into the flesh of your wrists until steel turns red.

When Jesse wheezes in your ear, when cold Chrome touches your shoulder, when every inch of his girth throbs to paint you full of him, you cum again. The third orgasm is wrenched from you, painful and tight. Everywhere sings with strained pleasure, every nerve frayed and twitching.

A pathetic whine spills from your mouth and you’re released, allowed to slump over the edge of the coffin, cheek meeting silk once again. Warmth vanishes from your back and boot falls echo through the empty room. Plastic flutters.

Clattering. Squeak. Rushing of air. Click. WHOOSH. Using the last vestiges of your strength, you pull yourself upright. Blearily, you look over your shoulder. Make-up smeared eyes widen.

Jesse lights a torch. The flames reflect eerily across the chrome grin. He shifts to place the torch against the end of a long metal rod.

A branding iron.

Wildly, you yank your arms, jiggle the chains, brace with your legs. You cry and scream and thrash and jerk, anything to free yourself. You only succeed in scooting the coffin a little way across the floor and peeling the skin away from your wrists.

Slowly, ominously, Jesse approaches. Each step is a cacophony as it echoes around the room to fill your ears with panic. The branding iron glows in the dark and acrid smoke fills the air.

You sob and shake your head, feverishly begging, desperately scooting as far away as your bonds and aching limbs will allow. Jesse’s head tilts to the side and he waves the iron teasingly through the air. The phone screen momentarily lights up the mask as he types.

There’s no saying ‘No’ to me now, is there?

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JESSE CROMEANS | CHROMESKULL & ASA EMORY | THE COLLECTOR (Laid to Rest & Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 | The Collector & The Collection)

—

“Romantic Call” (Jesse Cromeans x Fem!Reader x Asa Emory)

| The two of you aren’t supposed to be calling him, he’s busy, but Asa can’t be surprised about you and Jesse pushing his buttons— and Jesse knows for a fact he isn’t too mad either.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, established relationships, smut, porn with some plot, doggy-style, impact play, knife play, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism, competitiveness, polyamorous relationship -married!reader & slight chubby!reader

| Yea, the title is from the Patra song, tho the fic wasn’t inspired by it. (Pic source: Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 & The Collection)

| 2k+ words

Think about it:

Asa’s at a conference. He's interested in some of the new things his peers have done (and utterly disappointed in much more of it) but he’s really growing tired of the bumping.

He’s becoming more and more frustrated at the hordes of people running around without the good sense to watch where the hell they’re going. He developed a headache about two hours into the event and he’s feeling a little too…anxious for the setting.

Asa can keep up a good facade, prides himself on it, but this year’s attendees seem specifically suited to vex him.

He’s sitting now, legs and arms crossed, dour downturn to his lips, and eyes focused squarely on a nasty patch of scars on one of the speaker's hands. The man waves them around religiously so it’s not like they’re hard to track — they’re more interesting than his dragging spiel at least. His words are starting to grate on the last of Asa’s nerves.

At that very moment he’s actually picturing what the little patch of scar tissue would look like sewn into the skin of his forehead. Front and center. It was a nice looking set of destroyed and later rebuilt tissue.

When he feels a buzz in his pocket the man heaves a sigh, brows furrowing.

His phone is set to ‘do not disturb’, because he was a damned professional he could at least pretend to be paying attention, and he knows for a fact the only two people whose messages he set to go through are you and Jesse’s.

He had done it for emergencies only but he has a well based suspicion that the two of you aren’t remotely in any sort of peril.

He won’t admit how welcome the break from all these forgettable people and their pesky droning voices is, but he isn’t too mad about it. He excuses himself silently from the speaker area, not answering until he walks out into the main hall.

─────

“Didn’t I tell you urgent matters only?”

Jesse grins nonplussed at the harsh note of Asa’s question.

“I remember,” he lets the sharp flippant way he signs convey exactly what he thought about that stipulation to Asa before continuing, “but, Y/n, wants to show you something.”

He’s handing off the phone a second later and then you come into view. You hold the device and give him a demure smile, the upturn of your lips as soft as your voice.

“Em,” you greet — and yeah, Jesse knows Asa can’t be too mad at that. The way the creases in his forehead smooth out right after your greeting is proof enough.

“Beetle,” he greets back, sighing. His tone is curt, but one corner of his mouth does tick up in an almost smile. “What's so important you just had to show me?”

Your smile widens a bit more, eyes lighting up, and Jesse rests his hand on the small of your back when you bend over to prop the phone up against the headboard. The way he can feel the shiver going up your spine somehow manages to make him fill out even more, cock throbbing where it’s straining inside the smooth confines of his boxers.

“Just something new,” you propose, resting your head on your folded arms.

You’re both just as scarcely dressed as the other, cool air of the room sliding over your skin and hardening your nipples. Jesse’s blood still warms at the sight you make though. Back arched, ass up at a perfect height for your plush orbs to be aligned with his lowered hips.

At your angle the hand he slides to your ass is also in view of the camera, clear for Asa to see. He squeezes just to provoke the disapproving scowl that flashes across your third’s face.

You yourself laugh at it, airy and melodic, and push into his grip. The fabric of your panties is soft on his palm and he rubs idly over them while his other hand dips a little lower.

“How’s your trip?”

He rubs over the outline of your sex as you speak. The more prominent feel of cloth over your sensitive lips makes you keen and move away, but his hand snaps from your ass to your hip to hold you firm with a strong grip.

“…Interesting,” the entomologist answers after a beat.

Asa sounds irritated all over again and Jesse rolls his eyes. The man goes to a bug convention - his whole damn shtick - and you’d think he’d be living it up, but no. Jesse swears he’s never met someone so committed to being miserable.

He rubs harshly over your clit and you jerk forward.

“So— so not good?”

“Yes,” Asa nods slowly, looking away and tracking something off screen, eyes flaring briefly. “I need something to dissect. Soon, preferably.”

There’s no doubt Asa hasn’t guessed what he’s up to by now but the other man humors you regardless. Sap.

Jesse shifts and a metallic swish reverberates throughout the air. Asa’s eyes snap back to the camera and focus directly on the blade now in his hand. At the same time you twist around to gape at him.

“Eyes,” he signs harshly and you roll yours - he’ll get you for that later - but turn back to watch Asa regardless.

He chuckles, “Is he not being commanding enough, Beetle?”

You make a low upset sound at the words, not confirming or denying them.

“Don’t do that right now…” you murmur. Soft, so very like you.

Your tone is admonishing but both of them ignore you.

Jesse points the glinting blade at the screen where Asa can see it, issuing something like a warning, while using his other hand to pull the sides of your underwear from your body. All Asa does in response is scoff before otherwise backing off. At least for now.

Not wasting anymore time the killer at your back cuts your panties up the sides with jerky irritated movements, throws them to the floor, then places the flat of the blade right against your cunt where the damp curls on your mound act as a thin but plush barrier between your flushed skin and his cool metal. When you freeze the smirk that stretches across his face is mean.

“Jesse—?” You break off with a yelp, him having used the broad expanse of his palm and swung straight for your ass. “Sorry, Boss, I— what are you doing?”

He refuses to answer for a few moments, just watching as you scramble to accommodate the knife with small careful movements.

When Jesse bothers to sign next it’s not even to you.

“You know she argued with me over your surprise?”

One of Asa’s brows raise and his eyes glint with something akin to humor.

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like my Beetle. She didn’t talk back to me the last time I had her all to myself.”

Almost immediately Jesse seems to mock Asa, but by the time you catch him he's only rolling his eyes and is already diverting his attention back to you. The only indication he’d done anything more at all is the irritated scoff Asa gives.

Jesse and you lock eyes through the viewfinder on the screen and he moves the knife from your delicate bits, patting encouragingly at your thigh after putting the custom blade back into its hiding place. Silently you heed his command, pushing yourself to your knees while Jesse himself straightens to his full height in accordance with you, hiding both of your heads from Asa’s view.

After that all the two of you have to do is wait.

Jesse listens aptly for the faint intake of breath from Asa, smiling alongside you when you both hear it. Though you're the only one near vibrating with your poorly contained laughter, so excited your eyes are glittering.

On full display on the meat of your upper thigh, front and center, is a well defined skull with iridescent green beetle wings sprouting from behind it. The green and shimmer pops out beautifully on your dark skin because Jesse’d paid for an artist that wasn’t full of shit; the best money could buy in the area.

Jesse hums, grins sharp, and grazes his thumb lightly over the day-old tattoo before moving so that he can squeeze the back of your thigh with that same hand. Even grimacing your breath still hitches and you groan.

Asa’s gaze is locked fully onto your leg. He swallows thickly, his mouth opening slightly but no words coming out for more seconds than is his usual. Jesse’s grin gets worse.

The other clears his throat, something a little feral in his gaze. “It’s…lovely,” he praises, and has to clear his throat again and fight to school the arousal from his features in real time.

It was times like these Jesse almost wished he could cackle out loud.

“Mhm,” you mumble happily. Jesse bends down to kiss at your throat and you drop your head against his shoulder to give him better access. “I’m glad— ah,” you gasp as Jesse nips at your pulse, “I’m really glad you like it.”

You press yourself back into him with a shudder, thick coils brushing over his shoulder, and rake your stilettoed nails up his back hard enough to make his breath catch.

When you grind down he chuckles before turning your head so you can watch him sign.

“Needy are we?”

You huff, lashes fluttering against the tops of your umber cheeks.

“You’re taking forever, can you blame me? Will you please fuck me already? Please, Boss?” You blink up at him, pouting. “I need it.”

His cock jumps where it’s pressed on the delicate inside of your thigh and when you moan again he can’t find it in himself to deny either of you anymore. Not with his mark on you and those pleas falling past your plush lips.

You’re as receptive as ever when he falls into you, desperate and wanting, and making very good on your promise to let him “claim” you some more once you both got back from the tattoo shop.

Large hands tight on your plush hips he fucks into you just as desperately. Deep strokes that jolt you forward and have the head of his cock hitting gold every few thrusts.

Jesse grunts deep, leaning over you and bringing his scarred face closer to yours so he can look you in the eyes when you start incoherently babbling his praises. He doesn’t even have to prompt you to open them either, your lashes are damp as you meet his dark gaze the second he flattens his front to your back, and you mewl.

The two of you clash with a kiss, sloppy and barely coordinated, all lips and tongue and teeth, but he has no doubt the vision you make is affecting your audience of one. Passingly hopes that Asa’s currently sporting a hard on in front of all those academics and silently mortified by the sheer unprofessionalism.

Jesse shudders, gasps and moans silent, before pulling away and forcing your head down and your ass up. He can’t help but slap the fat of your ass and revel in the yelp you give him in response.

He’s at an even better angle now though and pistons into you hard enough to ache in the way you like complaining about even though it gives you just the excuse you want to be pampered. When your cute happy whimpers and choked moans strengthen he knows he’s well on his way to winning your orgasm and that small look on your face post coitis when you're exhausted and clingy.

It doesn’t take long after that for you to start zoning out and it takes him less than a blink to redirect his next slap to the side of your face. The startled noise you gift him quickly transforms into a deep recked moan and Jesse pounds into you even harder.

You focus back on Asa with the prettiest set of bright brown eyes, dark orbs sparkling with your tears unshed and shed alike.

“Fuck, Em,” you gasp.

“Does it feel good, Beetle? Do you like how he feels in you?”

Jesse watches your eyes roll as he rams the head of his cock into where he knows your g-spot is.

“Y-yea, yeah I do. Fucking,”— you sob—“love when he fucks my greedy cunt.”

“Mm,” Asa nods, face impassive and tone flat, but his attention glued to you. “I bet you do.”

When your eyes roll back again, your pussy clenching tight around Jesse, he can’t help but laugh through a moan of his own. The look his sometimes rival is throwing him is absolutely priceless. It promises something like a struggle when the other gets back.

You loved to watch them go at it, and per your request whoever won their little spats got to take you home during your week off. He’d lost last time but he hadn’t stopped thinking about how to get back at Asa for it.

He’d rather Princess come back from the dead and actually finish him off or Preston take over his business than admit to Asa that the loss grated. You were his wife, occasional threesomes be damned. While he held firm that week on his side of the bet, even reassuring you that it was honestly fine to go indulge yourself in Asa and The Collectors' whims, he still wanted to wipe the smug look off his buddy’s face.

Jesse would win. Even if he had to make you squirt all over your goddamn phone to do it.

He watches the arousal flit across Asa’s face every time you’re too distracted to notice, and how he grinds his teeth to tamp it down before you or anyone at the convention can see.

It’s fucking golden. And it doesn’t take the killer long after that to aim for making sure that he can ruin Asa’s life for the next two days he’s away. Rub it in his face that he won’t be able to get his hands on your dewy heated skin or get the brunt of the reverent look you give Jesse through the camera when he brings the knife back out, spinning it with a flourish.

Jesse would have you screaming pretty for him in no time, and the other man suffering all the more for it.

There was a reason why you didn’t (especially considering how much it riled Jesse up) call Asa anything but his fucking name in Jesse’s bed — not Professor or Prof, not his moniker, nothing — and he was going to remind the other man all about that regardless of the murderous glare he kept giving him.

Jesse pulls nearly all the way out, waits for you to whine at him and makes sure Asa can see how you continue to try pressing back on his cock despite him holding you back, then grinds his length back into your soaked cunt in one long thrust. Soaks in the drawn out way you call him Boss — not Jesse — and how you rush to thank him for fucking back into you, and bares his teeth at the burning look Asa gives him.

You start to shudder when he holds the knife to your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and his fingers burrow into your plush cloud of hair to keep your head still as he can. You let him without complaint. Asa’s eyes flash and, barely audible though it may be, Jesse can feel the snarl rumbling up his chest as the squelching sounds of your cunt grow louder and you start fucking back onto him hard enough to bruise.

Yeah he was fucking winning.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

My smut writing abilities are so-so, but I tried. This is also my first time writing both a threesome of any sort, and Jesse and Asa’s dynamic, so hopefully everything registers well.

I had some slight complications so this is a repost, but I doubt anyone even saw the original bar one person so….

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[amagialp]

Slasher headcanons!

not my usual fandom post, but please feel free to request anything! :P

(TW) and GN! reader hope you like it!

Michael Myers (Halloween)

Silent acts of affection: He'll fix things around your house when you're not looking, broken locks, creaky floorboards, even your car engine, but never tells you he did it.

Unsettling gifts: Michael doesn't understand normal romance, so you'll find things like feathers, cracked mirrors, or bones neatly arranged on your doorstep.

Childlike curiosity: He stares at you for hours not only because he’s creepy, but also because he’s trying to understand what makes you tick. If you catch him, he just tilts his head and keeps staring.

Jealous rage: Anyone who flirts with you ends up mysteriously missing or finds themselves suddenly terrified of "something" lurking nearby.

Jason Voorhees (Friday the 13th)

Gentle giant energy: He’s incredibly soft with you, always hesitant to touch, afraid he might hurt you with his size and strength.

Nature dates: Jason loves being in the woods, so expect long "quiet walks" through the trees, with him subtly steering you away from dangerous areas.

Primitive gifts: He’ll leave flowers, smooth stones, or handmade wooden trinkets for you. Sometimes they’re perfect, other times, they’re... rough. It’s the thought that counts.

Protective rage: If someone harms you, they’ll regret it almost immediately. Jason’s wrath is swift and terrifying, but he’ll make sure you never see that side of him.

Leatherface (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

Domestic sweetness: Despite the chaos, Leatherface tries to make your life comfortable, even cooking for you or attempting to sew something nice, though it might not always go well.

Physical affection: He doesn’t know how to express love, so expect bear hugs that are almost too tight and clumsy pats on the head.

Territorial: He’s deeply protective of his space, and by extension, you. Anyone who intrudes on what he considers "yours" is immediately in danger.

Childlike trust: He’ll follow your lead almost blindly, looking to you for approval in everything he does.

Billy & Stu (Scream)

Chaotic duo: They’ll argue over who gets to sit next to you during a horror movie marathon and will both pretend they weren’t scared when you call them out.

Competitive affection: They’re constantly trying to outdo each other to impress you, whether it’s with compliments, gestures, or taking out "obstacles" in your life.

Endless pranks: They team up to prank you, but if you ever prank them back, they’re both shocked and oddly impressed.

Weirdly supportive: They encourage your dark side, hyping you up if you ever show any interest in violence or twisted humor.

Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street)

Dark humor overload: Freddy flirts through sarcasm and mocking, but if someone else dares to insult you, they’re in for a nightmare.

Dream manipulation: He creates scenarios in your dreams just to make you laugh or to give you an escape from reality. It’s his twisted way of caring.

Possessive in your dreams: He doesn’t like anyone else entering your subconscious space, treating it like his personal domain (king gojo).

Nightmare protector: If you’re scared of something in a dream, Freddy will destroy it for you, though he’ll make fun of you for being scared in the first place.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Meticulous gifts: Asa leaves you intricate, terrifyingly beautiful things he’s crafted... like butterfly displays or twisted sculptures made from things you’d rather not know the origin of.

Fascination with your routine: He studies your habits obsessively, making sure he knows everything about your day to day life. If something disrupts it, he’ll "fix" the problem quietly.

Quiet, calculated affection: He doesn’t express love traditionally, but his attention to detail in how he takes care of you (even in small ways) speaks volumes.

Possessive and territorial: The idea of anyone else touching you or your belongings infuriates him. He’s not above setting traps to ensure people keep their distance.

Collector tendencies: You’re his most prized possession, but unlike the others, he protects you with a quiet reverence.

ChromeSkull (Laid to Rest)

Silent communicator: ChromeSkull relies on body language and technology to "talk" to you. Expect texts or typed out notes that are surprisingly sweet but still laced with his signature dark humor.

Obsessive filming: He constantly records you... not in a creepy stalker way (okay, maybe a little :D), but because he finds you captivating. The tapes are for him alone, and he guards them jealously.

Over the top protective: Anyone who so much as raises their voice at you is immediately on his hit list. His revenge is brutal, but he makes sure you never see that side of him.

Oddly stylish: He takes pride in his appearance and will sometimes dress you up too, giving you gifts like leather jackets or sunglasses to match his aesthetic.

Acts of service: His love language is taking care of "problems" for you, whether it’s fixing your car, eliminating someone who upset you, or just quietly keeping watch while you sleep.

The Sinclair Brothers (House of Wax)

Bo Sinclair

Charmer with a dark side: Bo loves flirting with you and making you blush, but there’s always an edge to it, as if he’s daring you to fall for him completely.

Overprotective sibling vibes: If Vincent or Lester get too close to you, he’ll intervene under the guise of "making sure they’re not bothering you."

Fix it guy: He’ll tinker with your stuff, fixing anything broken or making small improvements, even if you didn’t ask. It’s his way of showing he cares.

Jealous streak: Bo doesn’t handle competition well. If someone flirts with you, he’ll drag them into his workshop to "fix" them.

Vincent Sinclair

Artist’s devotion: Vincent loves sketching or sculpting you, often without you knowing. His art captures every detail, from the way your hair falls to the light in your eyes.

Gentle giant energy: Despite his imposing presence, he’s incredibly careful with you, treating you like something fragile and irreplaceable.

Silent adoration: He rarely speaks, but the way he watches you intensely and with complete focus says everything.

Gift giving: Expect handmade items like wax flowers, tiny sculptures, or jewelry. He pours his heart into these creations, and they’re always meant to protect or comfort you.

Lester Sinclair

Playful but protective: Lester loves teasing you, but if anyone else tries it, he’s quick to shut them down. He’s got a surprisingly sharp temper when it comes to your safety.

Nature walks: He loves taking you into the woods, showing you secret spots and teaching you random survival tricks, like how to set traps or identify plants.

Down to earth affection: Lester’s not one for grand gestures, but his constant kindness like keeping you company or bringing you snacks, makes you feel cared for.

Acts as the "buffer": He’s the calmest of the brothers and will often step in if Bo and Vincent get too intense around you.

!REQUESTS OPEN!

[noxturnals-void]

WHY DID I JUST FIND OUT NICK PRINCIPE (guy who plays Jesse Cromeans aka Chromeskull) IS MAKING A COMIC BOOK SERIES TO FOLLOW THE SECOND MOVIE?????

THAT LOOKS SO FCKING COOL OMG!!!

[kitsudolly]

Me at 3am reading slasher fanfiction

[sweeetestcurse]

Nick Principe as Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull in Laid to Rest (2009) 06/??

[evilvvithin]

Jesse content 🗣️🗣️

[ebonyslasher]

Them Thangs Thanging, Unfortunately

Basically, reader is a woman who has extremely large breast. Aka ME, this shit isn't for the weak. Just wanted to write about a few struggles we have. This doesn't even cover half of it.

Big Breast!Reader x Michael Myers, Daniel Lamb, Chromeskull, and Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

-----

Growing up was a struggle. 

That statement is true for many, especially during early teenhood. Middle schoolers were the most ruthless and awkward looking individuals to exist. However, there was an extra layer of struggle for the girls who had very progressive physical development(s). Specifically, those who developed their breasts early.

That was you. And unfortunately, your breast kept growing and growing. Even through early adulthood, with your weight fluctuating, your breast kept growing. They were always big, mind you. But now, as an adult, they were humongous. And what other people called a blessing, you just called a problem. Many problems at that included: 

Price

Bra’s, already, were expensive. For one piece of specialized cloth was $30 to $40. Add onto the fact that you had big breast? Oh, now the price wanted to double. Good luck if you were so big that you had to order custom. Prepare for your soul and wallet to be hurt. Custom bras can set someone back at least $100 easy!

With Michael, it was an odd situation. He would hear you complain about the price, but never understood why. He could just steal them for you, either from the store or from a victim. You, of course, didn’t want a bra from some random, especially with blood on it. EW. His plan could work if he would remembered your size...and if they even had it in store. 

Well, price wasn’t an issue with Chromeskull! He already treated you like a queen. If you wanted, he would have someone find bras for you. That way, you don’t even need the stress of looking. You find the bras lined up on a table every few months for you to pick from. What a life!

Daniel listened to your problems and saw firsthand how much they could get up to. Eyebrows shot up at the $79 bra that sat on your screen. After his missions, he would steal money or cards off corpses to give to you. You’d find a pile laying on your desk when he couldn’t stay, with a note saying ‘For your bra troubles!’ He was so sweet.

Ghostface didn’t care. He didn’t have to pay for the bras, so not his problem! He barely listens, pretending to only see any bras you might get next. Pervert. He wouldn't mind you getting a smaller bra, trying to imagine you as those anime girls wearing the smallest bikinis. 

“So you want me to look like I'm from One Piece??! Natural breasts in real life don’t work like that dummy!”

Size availability

Speaking of One Piece, it felt like you had to travel through the seven seas just to find bras in your size. Trying to find cute ones? You’re asking for the impossible. Most stores didn’t have your size. Forget about places like Victoria's Secret and especially Aerie. Lane Bryant may have your size, unless your band size is small. So, that means you have to order your bras online. Sucks, since you couldn’t try them on before buying. 

Michael stood in the store, comically looming behind you, surrounded by multicolored bras. He noticed that your posture fell as you spoke with a store worker. “Unfortunately, we don’t carry those sizes in store. We have them online and you could get it shipped here.” No thanks. It’d just be better to get something shipped to your house. You sighed in disappointment. Michael squints his eyes at the worker. Maybe he could come back and look to see what they really have in the back…

Availability was no longer a problem thanks to Jesse. Your masked sweetheart hired a personal designer that would make bras tailored to you. And you can tell them just how cute you’d like the bra to be.

A comforting hand lands on your shoulder as you relay the issue of finding your cup and band size in store. Daniel listens on as you rant, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course, I’d be the one with a small band size and huge ass breast!”  While you talk, he peruses the internet for different online stores that may have your size. You two curate a list of some, avidly reading any reviews that pop up.

“Oh well, hey, maybe this gives you the excuse to not wear bras anymore. Heh, I definitely won’t mind the view,” Danny joked after you told him the news. You roll your eyes and tell him to shut up. He really doesn’t care about your dilemma, pushing you to go braless, so he could see those juicy tatas bouncing. Although, if you get on him enough and promise him something nice, maybe he could magically get you some bras.

Clothing restrictions

There were certain articles of clothing that you couldn’t wear. Sad, since there were some cute looks that you just couldn’t do logistically. Bralettes and button down shirts were the devil. You saw the bralettes trending and said, “Nope. No way I could do that”. Button down shirts were deceptive. It would work up until the point the button around your breast would pop open. Understandable, since the small button couldn’t handle the pressure of holding back such big bouncing melons. You tried again one day, hoping that the designs became better throughout the years. As you walked around, the buttons popped open. The image of soft brown breast were revealed to the world in…

Michael’s steel blues, which immediately pinpoint the wardrobe malfunction. His head slowly tilts. Michael stoically ogles, secretly licking his lips as he enjoys the view. He notices your embarrassment and frustration. He feels a little bad, but that was overshadowed by the deliciousness of your reaction. He loves seeing you get worked up. He wouldn’t mind watching you bouncing around to throw a tantrum.

Jesse’s eyeless mask gleams. He raises his eyebrows at the incident. You try to button your shirt back up. The button only stays a moment before it gives up, bouncing off the shirt for the sweet release of death. The button clinks against the marble floor. You look down in disbelief as Jesse’s shoulders shake in glee. This was the funniest thing he’s seen all week!

Daniel’s zenith blue eyes pop wide open, mimicking the poor button that flew off. His face was a light shade of pink as he observed the scene. “Oh Shit…,” he whispers. Trying not to stare at your obvious malfunction, he peers up at your face that looks beautifully frustrated at the button on the ground. His eyes were full of empathy as walks over. “How about we try another shirt, huh?,” Daniel asks as he chuckles lightly.

“Hallelujah!” Ghostface shouts as he zeros in on this fantastic view. His perverted chocolate eyes were glued to your happy accident. You scoff and cover the malfunction with your hands. The view of that amazing bosom was now obscured, which angered Ghostface. He marches over right as he says, “Hey! Don’t cover those. Ghosty wants to see!”

Back pain

These breasts weighed heavy as gravity worked against your favor. Lugging around these gigantic bust meant the pull and strain against your back muscles. Those back muscles were only so strong, which would get weaker as you got older. The random aches in the upper, middle, and lower part of your back plagued your existence. You tried your best to keep good posture, but it was tiring.

Michael will rub your back if you ask. Well, only if he gets something in exchange. Dessert, you bent over, a good meal, or a new knife. You choose and it better be the right choice depending on his mood. Be warned that Michael is heavy handed as hell. His digs feel like he’s punching through your body. It might be a while before his massages become beneficial.

Jesse will hire a professional masseuse when he's on a spree. However, he would never turn down the opportunity to knead your supple muscles. You don’t mind if he goes a little lower, right Princess? He’ll also treat you with a doctor to get some treatment options going. 

Skilled and dangerous hands rub your back, the heavenly sensation of warm oil glides with every movement. Daniel, the sweet man that he is, gladly volunteers to bring you temporary relief. If he’s unable to caress your lovely form, he leaves you some pain medicine and healing meds that he comes across. The healing meds were heavenly. He, later, suggests having a reduction so you won’t have to suffer anymore.

Danny will massage you only because he wants his hands on that perfect body. And lowkey wants you to stop complaining all the time. God, it was annoying. He frequently offers to hold your breast up as you walk around. “I’ll even hold them up out in public. Just think, you’ll have your own boobie holder everywhere you go.” That shit eating grin on his handsome face didn’t faze you. Your face scrunches at his perverted comment. You take him up on the offer…only at home. You wouldn’t admit that it was a big help for your posture. You didn’t need to, Danny could tell how much it was helping by your relieved expression.