#also can you get us bo back

[posh--bee]

hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.

warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)

word count → 5.2k

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.

You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.

Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.

The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.

What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.

But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.

“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”

Oh. That’s right.

His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.

You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.

The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.

When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.

With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.

With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.

You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.

Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.

And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.

You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.

You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.

Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.

So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.

But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.

You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.

You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.

“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”

You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.

“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.

“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.

“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”

Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.

“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”

“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”

You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.

“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.

“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”

The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.

You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.

So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.

“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”

Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.

The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.

You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.

Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.

You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.

With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”

You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.

The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.

You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.

“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”

You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.

“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”

The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.

“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”

The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.

You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.

“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”

As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.

“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"

“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”

You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  

You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.

You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.

You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.

[allurilove]

Yandere Stalker x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Stalking, blood, non con—he goes down on you without you knowing, fem reader, perverted and lewd behavior, again he’s weird and so delusional, mentions of violence against women.

*Happy Pride month!!! 🫶🏻This fic is influenced by You—specifically season one. I’m trying to give him a joe goldberg vibe. This is also part two, and check out part one and part three! Your stalker doesn't have a name, and this fic is in his point of view. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: Your stalker decides to celebrate one year of staking you by giving you a little visit.

What’s more dangerous than a lustful and starved man?

You wanna know what’s great about New York? That every apartment seemed to have a fire escape. Yours is tastefully decorated with a rug, and a small chair that has a plaid blanket draped over it. What's also so great about it is that it gives me access to you. You live on the fifth floor of this red-bricked building. It’s somewhat old but has a nice rustic charm. You seem to have an eye for knackered and worn-down things, as I’ve seen you pick up a used vanity and refurbished it. Inside, there’s a lobby with a doorman that is barely awake half of the time, he picks up a huge breakfast and clocks out after having a food coma. He's old, flabby, and not nearly ready to protect you like I am.

I seriously doubt he could jump over his desk and grab the throat of any danger coming your way. It's quite concerning, you know? You often sleep with your window open, and with the current rise in crime...you could get stabbed, kidnapped, bound and tied, and thrown into the back of a truck in a matter of seconds. Trust me, I have seen it happen before.

Don't get me wrong, it's understandable. It’s a hot spring day, and even if the moon gave the city a bit of a break from the sweltering heat, the lingering humidity continued to have a tight grip on everyone. Every crow resides in the trees for shade, every stray cat hiding in the alleyways, and even the rats seem content with steaming away in the sewers. The pavements are hot, the wind is hot, and you can see and smell the stench of people's BO in the air. I mean, c'mon... have they heard of deodorant?

June is just a month that comes before my favorite season.

Summer, and in other words: “An excuse to wear more revealing clothing.” There’s something amazing and titillating seeing you in tiny, tight tank tops, walking around in flip flops with freshly painted nails, and your hair up so I can see a bit of your neck.

And today marks one year since I first saw you. I know how you drink tea since coffee makes your head hurt, how you dance around your apartment after having a good day, and how you always leave your apartment at 12 p.m. for lunch.

I memorized the exact time you close your curtains for bed, just before I catch that perfect glimpse of you in your robe after a hot and steamy shower. I want to be your bath mat so badly. Step on my ribcage for all I care, and let droplets of water from your body fall onto my face. Let me see up your towel and gaze into what I consider to be the gates of heaven itself. Let me lift my head up so I can suck the remaining bathwater on you. Let me get all of my questions and prayers answered, and let me see all of you.

I have reached the top of the steps, my hand gripping onto the window to push it up higher, and I duck down to crawl into your bedroom. The floors seem to creak with every step I take, yet you haven't woken up. A heavy sleeper, are we?

My eyes adjust to the lack of lights. My pupils expand as I drink in your nude form. You look so serene with your soft snoring, your arms splattered, and my gaze traveled over the peaks of your tits rising and falling with your breathing. Your blanket was just thrown to the side, clearly disregarded with a bit of anger, and I could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

Your legs were already sprawled wide open-- a reward for my tremendous bravery. I lick my lips. I notice a white string sticking out from your underwear, and I reach out to gently tug on it. It looks stuck, and I wrap the string around my finger and give it an extra hard pull.

What could that be? I know you’re on your period, and I still have your pad that I grabbed from the trashcan earlier. I sort of understand what a period is, and all I really know is that the sight of your blood causes my head to spin. I pushed your panties to the side, and my curiosity piqued as I slowly removed the feminine product out of you.

I inspect the hygiene product I haven't really seen before. It looks different from a pad, and in my opinion it looks like a sperm— well the shape anyways. I put the tampon in my mouth, gently suckling it as if I were an infant. You taste salty, copper-like, and your plasma is warm. It's almost soothing. I then let the tampon fall out of my mouth. I tug on your underwear, pull it down from your legs, and stuff it into my pocket.

I rub my hands on your thighs, and I can feel the slight stubble on your legs. My fingers graze over your sex, and it follows the outline of your pussy. I put your legs on my shoulders, my head then leaning down so my tongue can lick stripes on your slit. The tip of my tongue touches the wet curls of your hair, and a frisson of pleasure runs down my spine. Your cunt is an eesome sight, the hair dampened by my saliva, and it covered your core like it was protecting the most precious jewel. And in a sense it was. I become more brazen, a single finger pushing inside you, and my jaw dropped at the sight of you sucking my finger in. You welcomed it so nicely, and there was a nice pressure of tightness.

I curl the single digit, intently staring at your face for any reactions towards my fingering. I use my thumb to circle your clit. I have read that some women can't come based on penetration alone. Hopefully, my tongue and fingers can help bring you to the brink of an orgasm.

I also hope that you never wake up. How else am I supposed to memorize your body? Would you even think that I am worthy of you? Or would you run away just by seeing my face alone? Would you think I'm crazy, or would you be flattered by the way I devour your cunt like it's my last meal? I hold your hips down firmly onto the bed, you're slowly squirming around and starting to gain consciousness.

It's like I'm drowning in a never-ending pool of crimson, and no matter how many times I swipe my tongue, it just oozes out of you so effortlessly. Your aroma is intoxicating, and it's like your body lured me--the prey-- into your little trap of ...

"Where are you going...?" I instinctively mutter as I miss the presence of your warmth against my mouth. You seem to crawl away, your limbs trying to save you from the repeated administrations of teasing.

My eyes shoot open as I realize that you're screaming. I immediately reel back, my ass landing onto the hard floor and I wince. "Shit-- I'm sorry!"

I scramble onto my feet and I try to duck every pillow you throw at me. I trip on my way out, and the wind gets knocked the fuck out of me as my bottom half got stuck in your window.

"This is literally my worst nightmare...!" I grunt as I try to wiggle my hips. I feel pain coming from my crotch, it's compressed against the window sill, and of course my dick had to be as hard as a rock.

You continue to hit whatever you see-- which means my ass. I yelp as you put your hands on my bottom, and you muster as much strength as you can to get me out of your house.

Why is this oddly arousing?

With one final shove I landed onto my face.

There's nothing dignifying about walking down the street with a clear boner and a bloody nose. I just look like a pervert that got punched after leering at someone. Wait.

No, that's not what I was doing. I'm not a pervert. I just have wandering eyes that are glued to whatever you're doing. I just happened to notice how your chest bounced around when you were running late and had to run out of the house. I happened to carry a tiny vial to collect any fluid and essences that dripped out of you after our encounter. My hand reached into my pocket, and I sighed in relief as I am comforted by the soft material of your panties and of the long plastic tube. I feel a sense of relief knowing that they didn't fall out as you kicked me out.

Am I crazy? No. Am I the only man you'll ever meet that has done this to you? Probably. I am one of a kind, after all.

Allure: Someone slap some sense into him.

[24kvlaks]

Slashers and sex

How big do you guys think slashers dicks are? And how hard would it be to take it.

Thomas Hewitt.

Thomas being a big boy, he has really good girth, and he’s more of a grower than a shower, when he soft it isn’t the biggest thing on average 5.8 inches, when hard it’s a decent 7.2 inches, and his girth is between 4-5 inches wide.

It’s pretty hard to take, it starts off rough and painful but the longer you fuck the more you ease towards it. In the end it’s very pleasurable and he’s very careful with you! <3

Thomas is very found of bondage. He loves seeing you tied up, especially with a strawberry in your mouth.

—

RZ Michael Myers.

Michael from rob zombie is a really big boy. He’s 6’9 and more muscle than he is anything else. He’s a grower and a shower. He starts at 6 inches soft snd 9.1 inches hard. Likely 6 or 5inches wide.

It hurts so much when you two have sex, Michael isn’t careful, he’s rough. And if he didn’t cum the first 5 minutes he won’t stop.

You have a bruised cervix. The first time you two had sex you bled! You quickly warmed up to his girth but you could never come to terms with the length of his.

Michael loves bruising! He doesn’t even know that he does but he goes nuts internally when he marks you.

Very very hard to take. Bruises you, and a couple of hospital visits.

—

Jason Voorhees

Jasons a big guy, more on the lean yet chubby side. Very bulky. And you can bet your ass that his dick is exactly the same.

Jason has a girth of 4.8!

He’s very thick. He has a length of 6.9.

The length is pretty average yet he stretches you so far every time.

Jason is very very careful, if you say you’re done, you’re done. Even when you tell him to go rough, he’ll go harder and faster but he’ll never go his full strength.

You seem to forget the fact that he can actually hurt you if he goes to his full potential during sex. Breaking your spine or actually doing some damage to your cervix. Nevertheless potentially killing you.

Jason’s a very very careful boy. Psst he also has a very secretive mommy kink.

He’s a grower.

Hard to take because he doesn’t really know what he’s doing and sometimes it hurts. Yet if you’re patience enough he’ll catch on and it’ll feel amazing.

—

Gabriel may

Now having sex with Gabriel is very difficult. Even though he doesn’t have a penis I didn’t want to not include our special boy :(

Gabriel gets very mad and insecure during sex because he doesn’t have his own body.

He always fantasizes about having his own body his own parts. Instead of having to use dildos or toys.

Though you make up for it, Gabriel hates receiving because he doesn’t like the thought of you pleasuring his sister even if he can feel it too.

Sometimes he’ll allow it but mainly seeing you enjoy yourself is enough to get him off.

I’d like to say if Gabriel had a penis it’d be 4.0 inches soft and 5.8 inches hard. With 4.0 inches in girth.

Gabriel has a phone sex link. Since he can control radios, lights and phones, he loves watching you pleasure yourself over the phone. Drives him crazy.

And he never goes easy on you.

Not hard to take because you’re not really taking anything. But mentally it’s a hassle, he’s always edging you.

—

Bo Sinclair

Bo fucking Sinclair. Bo is big on sex, crying sex, arguing sex, mad sex, sad sex, romantic sex. Anything you want you can have it.

Though Bo doesn’t like to experiment he doesn’t like stepping out of what he doesn’t know.

He likes the normal thing smoke regular missionary and doggystyle. Average shit.

And don’t think because it’s average he can’t fuck good because you would be wrong.

Soft 5.7. hard 8.2, Girth 4.5. Boy takes pride of his dick. If you’re arguing and say anything that involves you calling his dick small he will whip it out and fuck you.

Sometimes he’d just stare at you and whip it out letting out a scoff before putting it back in his pants.

If you say it in public he’ll laugh in your face before giving you a painful fucking after.

He’ll never ever go easy on you in bed. Sometimes you have to fuck in his gas station because his brothers were tired of hearing you yell.

Bo has a huge smacking kink. Loves seeing your skin turn a tad red when he smacks you. The shock on your face yet you’re being too fucked out to be mad.

Very hard to take. End of story.

—

Vincent Sinclair

He takes after his brother. A big dick boy.

Though Vincent’s shy about it, sometimes he wonders if it’s big enough. Which it is. It’s perfectly fine.

5.2 soft 7.4 hard.

Vincent was a virgin though he enjoyed the thought of sex. He thought of it as an art.

During sex with Vincent he’d be very careful. Scared he’d mess up or he’d read about it to prepare and rock your world.

Having sex with him was pleasurable. Soft and romantic there was never a time where sex between you two wasn’t romantic.

He was always so soft and gentle.

He thought you’d find it weird that he had nude mini sculptures of you, or paintings of you having sex. Though you oddly found it attractive.

You guessed it! Vincent has a wax kink. He loves poring it off your body. Though he thinks real wax is too dangerous so he uses lotion wax.

Rubbing it into your skin whilst pounding into you. He admired you, his favorite muse. And his favorite wax to create art. By fucking you.

Mediocre when it comes down to taking him, you don’t have sex often because he’s always busy. So usually when you do you have to get used to his size again!

And even when you do he still has length that bruises you.

—

Lester Sinclair

Straight to the check. He’s 4.0 soft 5.4 hard. Don’t think just because he isn’t as big as the others he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s a little sex geek. He has millions of magazines.

And he’s a little switch, he enjoys being a bottom most of the time. He’ll brush his teeth to eat you out.

Will literally scrub his teeth and drink mouthwash just to eat pussy and then go back to his day.

He loves the way you taste. He always compliments you by saying you taste better than his chocolate.

Saying you are his favorite chocolate. He’d call you white chocolate, cream chocolate, dark chocolate, cream chocolate or just his sugar brown baby.

He’s crazy with nicknames! He doesn’t mind experimenting, whatever involves him having sex with his girl, or boy. He doesn’t really care.

He’ll dress up for you, go out of his way to pay for expensive dates that he doesn’t have the financials for.

He’s very steady during sex, he doesn’t really do anything unless you tell him too.

Your wish is his command.

He loves sitophilia! If you don’t know what that is he likes food play. He’ll dump chocolate on you, he’ll use peanut butter.

Anything!

He’ll put candy in between your ass and go nuts! Sometimes he’d just eat the candy and leave.

You didn’t mind, as long as he was happy. And he always was. A mouth full of candy and a face full of ass who could complain?

Never hard to take Lester. You fuck so much you’ve gotten used to his penis. Though that doesn’t make sex less pleasurable for either of you.

Especially with his erratic ideas.

—

Hannibal lector

Hannibal is an average guy. 6.2 soft, hard 7.0

Mind you, he knows how to use every inch of his body. And he loves fingering. He will use his hands and finish you off.

Especially if he’s busy, he’ll fuck you to smithereens with one hand whilst he’s writing with the other.

Hannibal knows what’s best during sex. If he decides to go Fast one night and slow the other it must be what’s best.

Hannibal loves dress up. Any cute outfit on you would drive him mad. It’s not just dress up like cosplay, he loves any kind of dress up. You wear a silky dress he’d tear it in half.

And fuck you that night.

Sometimes he’d leave it on and just hump you through it. Just because he can, Hannibal knows best.

It’s never really hard to take Hannibal, he always makes sure it’s easy and pleasurable.

—

Hi guys! That’s all :) lmk if I should do part two! If you have any slashers I missed just comment them <3

[suguruspit]

Maybe you're too weak for us.

A/N: Ghostface!Gojo&Geto duo... you have a grip on me. Warnings: tiny mentions of murder, slight knife play, squirting, unprotected sex, threesome, fingering, dominant suguru, oral sex (giving and receiving), d!ck piercing 🤭, degrading (not major you just get called a whore)

The two strongest sorcerers decide to play a game with you, considering you ditched them to watch a movie with friend.

"Satoru, what are you doing?" You ask breathless, partly out of fear as your friend stalks towards you holding a knife in a Ghostface get up complete with fake blood on his mask, but also partly out of something you don't dare to admit to. "I said I'm sorry I ditched you."

Your friend doesn't say anything. You know it's Satoru because of the white sneakers he's wearing, complete with blue stitching. However, he hasn't actually said anything to confirm your theory, he's just standing in the doorway to your room, eerily silent.

You're starting to think you've made a grave mistake. Slowly, eyes still lingering on the figure at the door, you reach for your phone. The figure inches forward and you suddenly hitch your breath, only to let it all out in fright as your phone starts ringing. You see the caller ID that signifies the two of you's best friend and you answer it quickly, words not quite finding you yet. There's a burn between your thighs though, as you're met with Suguru's husky voice on the other side of the line.

"You hang up, and you'll die, pretty girl." Suguru's voice breaks the silence, and your mouth drops open in a moan. Satoru's mask tilts to the side as he watches you. "Such a whore. Did you understand me?"

"Did you just call me a whore?" You ask, intending to be outraged but you can feel how wet you are without even touching yourself. It's addicting, the way he's speaking to you. You'd never tell them, but this is like something straight out of your fantasies. "What do you want from me?"

"Hm." Suguru pauses on the other end of the line, you can hear a tapping noise, and then he huffs out a vague laugh. "What's your favourite scary movie?"

"You can't be serious." You pout, knowing he can't see you but Satoru definitely can. You let your knees steady you as you kneel on the bed carefully propping yourself onto the mattress pointed towards Satoru. "Is that all? Some dumb question? Halloween."

"Well that's awfully rude," Suguru sounds pouty, and it makes you laugh, heat crawling across your skin. "After everything we're going to do for you tonight, that's how you thank us?"

This is boring, you thought they were actually going to do something. But this? Banter on the phone whilst Satoru just stares, bo-ring. So, with a kiss goodbye to the receiver, you hang up. You smile at the phone before you're knocked onto your back, Satoru pinning your arms above your head whilst you gasp in shock at the sudden movement. How the hell did he move so fast?

"He warned you." It's the first words you've heard from the taller man all night, and a shiver hits you, wetness pooling between your thighs where it definitely shouldn't. "You wanna get hurt, sweetheart?"

You stare at the mask, cheeks flushed and eyes hooded as you bite your lip. There's nothing there, no emotions, but just the way Satoru has you pinned, forearm thick and strong as he holds both wrists in one hand, you whimper.

Satoru is silent, but he brings that prop knife closer to your chest, tracing the seams of your nightgown, tilting his head as he follows the knife, lowering his body down your stomach and you inhale as you feel his breath through his mask hit your navel. The prop knife is getting closer to your thighs, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it before you're wrenched out of your comfortable, playful flirty mood.

It's cold, the tip of the knife swirls around the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you can feel the cool metal against hot skin. Suddenly, this shit got a whole lot more serious, and you feel tears in your eyes as you beg Satoru to touch you, letting a whimper slip as the knife grazes up your panties, the smallest amount of pressure before it's tossed aside, clattering against your bedroom floor and the silence is filled with Satoru's deep groan as he mumbles something about honey.

Your hips shudder forward involuntarily, and you gasp as you feel gloved fingertips brush against your clothed pussy, the fabric sticking uncomfortably, before it's being slid to the side as Satoru finally gives you what you want.

His fingers are so long, slipping inside a little too easily as he coos at you, mask still on and taunting you with wide lifeless black sockets, hallowed scream mocking you for being so ridiculously turned on. The wet sounds coming from your cunt have you blushing, eyes laser focused on the fingers that are sliding in and out of you languidly. You almost forget about Suguru, that is until you hear your mobile ringing again.

You're too lost in what Satoru's doing to answer at first, and you cry out as Satoru stops his movements, fingers stationary in wet walls as you try and fail to move your hips. He looks pointedly to the phone, and you huff as you reach a shaky hand towards it, now that Satoru has released them with a warning squeeze. You pick up the phone on the third ring, and almost sob out in relief when you hear Suguru's voice again.

"One last chance." Suguru warns, and it sounds like traffic in the background. "Hang up again, Satoru leaves you wet and alone in bed like the whore you are. Understood?"

"Mmm-hm." You nod, letting out a breathy moan as Satoru starts moving again, those slender fingers reaching that spot so quickly it has you arching. "Fuck, Satoru."

"He's good, isn't he?" You can hear Suguru smirking through the damn phone, but the way Satoru has you stuffed already just with a couple of fingers has your head spinning, warm heat spreading through your core with no mercy. "Tell him. Let me hear you beg him, darling."

"Suguru," You keen, thighs trying to close as your head falls back, the peak you've been climbing for less than five minutes getting dangerously close despite only a bit of fingering. "Please, need you here. M'sorry. I'll do whatever you want."

Satoru scoffs and you look at him puzzled before he places his other hand on your lower tummy, pressing firmly as he ramps up his speed. Your eyes are wide and he wrenches a near scream of Sugurus’ name out of you as you gush on his forearm, dampening the dark fabric of his costume. He groans along with you as Suguru laughs on the phone, and you hear him mutter something as he pulls his mask off. Oh.

“Gotta taste,” Satoru groans, electric blue eyes blown wide and white hair at all angles; he looks feral. He shoves your thighs either side of you and moans like a whore as he takes in the sheen of your pussy, your cum already making it slick and easy. “Bet you taste so good.”

Satoru looks at you with pure lust written on his flushed face, lips plump and wet from where he's been biting it as he fingered you. With another curse, he's buried snowy white hair between your thighs, making out with your pussy like he's starved.

“Satoru,” You beg, ears still trying to readjust after your orgasm, white staticky noise overlapping with your own sobs. "Fuck, fuck. Please. Suguru."

Satoru moans into your cunt at the mention of your mutual friend, hips rutting into the bedsheets as he swirls his tongue around you, thrusting it in and out of your tight walls, slurping at the remnants of your previous orgasm. Your hands find their way to his hair as you hold on for dear life, the wet sounds of Satoru eating the only sounds in the room, save for Suguru's grunting on the other end of the line, schlick schlick schlick noises coming through from you imagine is Suguru fisting his cock as he listens to Satoru eat you out.

It's addicting, and your back arches as he sucks on your clit, moaning as he feels how you're practically dripping onto his face, a wet sheen on his chin as he looks up at you with hooded eyes, face red and hips moving as he humps the bed.

"You know, we're really helping you out here." Suguru's voice floats over the phone, albeit a little more strained than before. "Tell me, how often do you stuff your fingers inside your tight pussy wishing it was one of us instead?"

You gape at the phone, frowning as Satoru laughs into you, placing apologetic bites into the inside of your thighs. How the hell does he know that? You even turn your phone onto airplane mode.

"We heard you, princess." Satoru confesses, rolling his tongue around your folds, collecting the sweetness with a groan. "Sorry. So loud when you think no one's listening."

"What? When?" You demand, kicking the side of his head with your foot as he laughs into you again. "Stop it. Suguru, what are you talking about?"

"Play along, Satoru." Suguru scolds, and Satoru immediately gives you a sheepish look, pressing a sweet kiss to your clit before kneeling up and tugging at his own leaking dick. "We didn't kill that guy just for you to fumble at the very end."

What?

"What the fuck?" You whisper, voice tight. "Suguru-"

"What's the matter?" Suguru asks, a mocking in his voice that you're not unfamiliar to. "You liked that knife when Satoru ran it over your thighs, didn't you?"

You shiver at the memory, the way the cold metal had shocked you, and you can feel your core burning again. Satoru lets out a pinched moan above you, precome dripping onto your stomach as he grins.

"That guy, the one you brought here the other day?" Satoru laughs, eyes bright as he keeps his hadn't moving swiftly, his voice all breathy as he moans his words out. "Fuck, princess, the way you moaned for him whilst you thought of us. Couldn't have him living with the fact he got to touch you."

You choke on a moan as Satoru slaps your pussy roughly, your wetness glistening on his hand as he rubs away the sharp sting, his tongue peaking out of his lips. You can't even think of whatever that guys name was, not when Satoru Gojo is above you, dishevelled and leaking.

"K-killed?" You whimper, hips tilting down to meet his fingers, grunting when he slips two inside, tiny remnants of blood on them that you didn't notice before. "Oh, god, fuck,"

"Mmhmm." Suguru says on the line, except that it sounds a little echoey this time. "He barely remembered your name. Disgraceful."

You're about to roll your eyes and pout but then Satoru's long fingers hit that gummy spot and you're sobbing out a mixture of their names, begging for something other than what you've got. Greedy. So wrapped up in your own pleasure you don't hear your door creak open, or feel the bed dip before Suguru's pierced tongue is licking at your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you moan, wicked grin as he looks at Satoru in between wet kisses.

"Satoru," Suguru purrs, deft hands wandering down to your tits, pinching and rolling pert nipples as you squirm. He looks so good like this, blood freckles on his face, purple eyes with messy mascara covering the bottoms of his eyelids. Satisfied grin plastered across his face as he watches Satoru finger you languidly, sloshing wet noises from how turned you are. "You've gotten all messy."

Satoru grins as he looks down at his soaked clothes, before sticking his tongue out at his partner.

"We knew she'd be messy." Satoru says simply, curling his fingers up and pounding you, continuing his conversation like he barely noticed you were there. "Tastes so fucking sweet, too. Like candy."

Suguru hums, making out with the side of your mouth as he watches Satoru, his tongue creating a spit-slicked mess of your lips. You moan at the way he uses you like a toy as he watches his friend finger you, both of the groaning as your stomach visibly tenses as you get closer and closer.

"Yeah? Tastes good, did you hear that sweetheart?" Suguru coos, holding your jaw and forcing you to look at Satoru. "Well. I guess I'll have to see for myself, won't I?"

"Suguru." It's a pitiful whimper, and your thighs are already twitching from Satoru's antics. "Suguru, please."

You don't even know how you got yourself into this situation, and the potential murder of your ex hook-up is nothing to be ignored, but fuck you if these two men fighting over who gets to eat your cunt out isn't the most insanely hot thing you've ever seen.

Satoru looks so flushed, red hot face as his tongue flats out against your pussy, dragging along the length of it and sucking on your slick, moaning like a bitch in heat as he brushes past Suguru's tongue, who's more focused on suckling your pretty little clit. Satoru is a messy eating, slurping and spitting and moaning as he tastes you, his dick out and leaking against the bed sheets, thrusting onto the cotton as you sob and writhe and moan.

Suguru nibbles and kisses and sucks like he's a professional, hot stiff muscle invading your every thought as you try to escape from the constant stimulation but they've got you caged between the two of them. Satoru is still in his black robes, soaking fabric with blood splatters in his hair, but his dick is hanging free and it makes your mouth water, which Suguru notices with hungry amethyst eyes, kissing your thigh before his nails dig into the fat of your ass.

"You need to be filled more, is that it?" Suguru groans, reaching into his pants to pull his hard dick out, and your breath catches as you notice his piercing, well, piercings. Four sets of glinting steel jewelry leading up his perfect and thick shaft, all the way to the top of his soft mushroom tip, beaded with precum and angry red. "Think she can open wide enough, Satoru?"

You moan in response, already working on positioning yourself above his waist, mouth drooling at the sight of him. You've always wondered about those piercings, apparently it makes everything more sensitive. Time to test it out.

"Satoru, let's give this a-" Suguru cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as you swirl your tongue around the metal of his piercings, placing opened mouthed kisses up and down them, leaving strings of drool attached before you finally reach his tip. You give it a couple of kitten licks, moaning at the salty taste before going as far as your throat allows, hand on his shaft and stroking jerkily as you try to fit it down you. Suguru keens, hips shuffling forward as he throws his head back. "God, fuck. Made for us, baby girl."

"Mmhmm," You agree, mouth stuffed to the brim. Satoru has moved from your pussy to mouth at Suguru's jaw, pressing hungry bites to it as he groans at the same time his partner does. You moan at the sight, cheeks pink and eyes hooded as the noise makes you choke a little, Suguru cursing and gripping your hair.

You start a rhythm alternating between bobbing your head up and down, pulling back and sucking gently, and spitting on it so your hand something to slick up the jerking. Suguru's a lot more reserved than Satoru, just watching you with hooded eyes and a keen look, whereas his partner is whining like he's the one being touched. You want to feel what those piercings are like inside you, and you tell them as much.

"Oh? Such a whore," Suguru hums appraisingly, before he's shuffled down and slapping the tip of his dick on your pussy, pulling it back with strings of your cum attached. "Can't believe you let someone else use your pussy, sweetheart. Tell me, is it still tight?"

"Suguru," You breathe, gasping as Satoru frames you from behind, groping at your tits and pulling gently on the nubs, rubbing them just to hear your squeaks. "Satoru!"

"Yeah," Satoru groans, rutting against your ass, both of you holding your breath as he catches slightly on the rim. "Fuck baby, please let me put it in?"

You vehemently shake your head, giggling a bit at his whines of protest, before you grind back against him and moan at how hard he is. You're almost about to cave, before Suguru pushes in abruptly.

"Oh, fuck." Suguru pants. You're so tight, gummy wet walls stretching and struggling to accommodate his size, the cool metal of his piercings a stark contrast to the rest of both of you. Just the thought of them inside you has you getting wetter, walls tightening as Suguru hisses, squeezing your hips. "Tight. Satoru, get the camera."

You're in too much of a daze to register what he's saying, mouth agape as you let yourself get fucked mercilessly by your supposedly platonic best friend. His tip bumps up against your g-spot and you're close to screaming, opting to sob instead, scraping your nails down his back. You already know you look a state, your own cum dripping down your thighs, a mess of tears and drool down your face as well as some blood from Satoru's face mingled in with it all.

You hear a snap, then you're suddenly gasping as the room tilts, Suguru rearranging you both so that you can ride him, his piercings catching on your pussy every thrust, your hands gripping his chest. Plap plap plap filling the room as you're riding Suguru like your life depends on it, which it might, considering he suddenly has the neglected knife off the floor at your throat, cold metal making you whine as it presses ever so slightly, your cunt fluttering at the sensation.

Suguru's feet are planted on the mattress as he fucks up into you, swearing and cursing as you feel his thrusts get more erratic.

"Ngh. You ready, Satoru?" Suguru pants out, letting the knife fall beside you as he hauls himself into a semi-sitting position, mouthing at your tits. "Perfect. Not gonna last, beautiful."

"Oh, fuck," You sob as you cream around him, milky white leaking out of you and forming around the base of his cock. He swears, and then you feel hot heat as he empties inside you. "God, oh god fuck me."

Suguru chuckles into your shoulder as he kisses it, soothing fingers massaging at the tender skin from where Satoru was gripping you earlier. You can feel your thighs burning as you slow down, only for Satoru to whine.

"Su-gu-ru." Satoru whines, and you look back. And what a picture. He's rocking on his heels, thrusting up into his own hand so he can fuck his own fist at the sight of you two. His cock is angry, red and swollen and leaking so much you wouldn't be surprised if he'd already came and simply kept going. "You promised."

"Hm?" Suguru asks in a daze, looking into your eyes with a possessiveness that has you shivering. "Go on, Satoru. Fuck her then."

Satoru groans out a thank you, and you gasp as you're pushed forwards, straight into Suguru's chest and cushioned by his arms. Your walls clench, and you bite your lip as you feel Satoru push in, Suguru's come seeping out in globs of glossy white around Satoru. Suguru is thick, but Satoru is long. Fuck, you can feel him in your chest.

"Fuck." You sob, trembling as Suguru shushes you.

"Be good for Satoru, baby. I know you can take it, such a perfect little whore for us." Suguru soothes you, wiping at the tears that fall down your cheeks. He looks to the side for something and your eyes slip closed, your body rocking as Satoru fucks you in doggy. He's so deep, almost hitting your cervix as he drives into you like an animal.

He's so whiny, mouth running a mile a minute about how perfect you are, perfect and tight little pussy, tighter than Suguru. It's so much, too perfect, that peak building so rapidly that you can't help but squeal as you feel yourself gush, mouth opening and Suguru murmurs something to Satoru, and then you feel your hair getting tugged backwards as Satoru moans his own release out, loudly.

There's a snap again, a flash as your head is yanked back, drool and mascara and fluids dripping down your chin and chest. Suguru had just taken a trophy shot, and your walls give a weak little attempt at a flutter, making Satoru practically sob into your shoulder.

He presses a dozen or so kisses to your skin, whispering sweet little thank yous over and over as he pets your hair, gently rocking his hips into you as a comfort for everything they'd just put you through. There's come dribbling down your thighs as he pulls out, and he hooks a thumb into your hole, whistling as he watches evidence of him and Suguru pulse out onto the sheets.

"Sweetheart?" Satoru asks cheekily, slapping your ass as you grumble at him, swatting behind you as Suguru laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to your forehead.

"W'ht?" You slur out, getting comfy on Suguru's strong chest, taking in the smell of his minty shampoo. Satoru is to the other side of you, drawing abstract patterns on your back. It's bliss, considering the circumstances.

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

A/N holy shit this is way longer than expected I'm so sorry. Also, I know realistically there would be a bunch of questions but if gojo and gets showed up as ghostface I'd simply just say thank you.

[embrosegraves]

𝕂𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℂ𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕤

(request) Lando Norris x Reader (implied she/her) Reader takes a video of Lando laying on them and captures a sweet moment. Non-sexual neck kisses!

It was rare that Lando would get enough downtime where he could do literally nothing and not feel guilty about it. It was even rarer that your schedule would match up with Lando’s sparse moments of pure relaxation. However when they did align with each other, the both of you made the most of it by doing absolutely nothing but cuddling. 

Currently, you were laying on the couch in Lando’s living room, the man in question lying snuggled and comfortable on your chest. The only bit of noise was the low hum of the cars as they passed by on the road. One of your hands was playing with strands of Lando’s hair while the other was being used to answer a few texts that you had left unread. 

Quickly telling your mother that you had landed and were safely surrounded by your boyfriend, your eyes wandered to Lando’s position. His legs were completely tangled through yours, telling you that there was no way either of you were getting up for a while. His arms encircled your waist, his right arm underneath your body while his left curled upwards to rest on the couch near your chest. And though you couldn't see you could definitely feel his head buried in the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck. Every now and then, you could feel him press a feather-light kiss to your neck, letting you know he had not fallen asleep. 

You were glaringly reminded of when Charles’ girlfriend had posted a tiktok of him joining he skincare routine. You had swooned at the domesticity of it and part of you had wished that you could have that with Lando. This could very well be your only opportunity for a very long while. Without wasting another second, you quickly opened your camera app and started recording. 

You moved your arm ever so slightly so that the camera would catch Lando as well as yourself, extremely glad that Lando was a little clingy when you had been separated for a while. Knowing that Lando would not be speaking until you spoke first, you gave him a soft kiss on the head. 

“I love you so much, Lan.” You whispered. “I hope you know that.” 

“O’course I know that, Baby.” He smiled and placed another kiss on your neck, just a bit firmer than previous. “I know a lot of things about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes sparkled and flickered to your phone, making sure it could still see the both of you. He hummed, the kisses on your neck getting more and more frequent the longer you recorded. 

“What’s something you know about me?” You knew you had just stumbled on a gold mine of domestic fluff, there was no way you couldn’t ask. 

“Know you wanna get married, and have kids. A boy and a girl.” His words were clear though a little muffled. “And I know I’m gonna give ‘em to you one day.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm, and I know you wanna move to the countryside, with a big house for family and an art studio. And I know that I’m gonna work until I can give it to you and then I’ll retire and look after the kids and you’ll probably keep working, be the breadwinner of our family.” 

“Lan?” Not once did the kisses on your neck stop throughout his whole explanation. 

“I also know that you’re recording so that you can post it and show everyone how clingy I am but that’s okay because I really love you and at the end of the day you’re here with me and not anyone else.” Now he moved his head so he could look at you with his boyish grin. You couldn’t help but grin back at him. You stopped recording when he had moved his head. The look of pure love in his eyes had whatever remained of your self-control vanishing like dust in the wind. You leaned your head down and kissed him firmly on the lips. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” You whispered after you both parted from the kiss. 

“Not more than you.” Lando pecked your lips once more before snuggling back to position. Soft kisses meeting your neck until you both eventually fell asleep.

twitter.com

The way I rewrote this like 100 times before I was happy with it. Like when I say I fully wrote out like six different scenarios for this request only to not like any of them, before finally landing on what is quite possible one my favourite things I've ever written (also ignore the date on that tweet lmao I only thought about adding it at the very last minute)

ANYWAYS! As always, I hope you enjoyed reading! Please feel free to send me any requests (preferably for a driver I haven't written for yet)

likes, replies and reblogs are very appreciated <3

MUAH

[daycourtofficial]

Snapshots of Time

Summary: your relationship with Azriel, as shown through your relationship with Cassian.

Author’s note: this is based on this incredible request. Honestly I could do this forever I’m OBSESSED with Cassian I need to be his best friend like now.

-

The hulking Illyrian general looked down at the woman in front of him, examining her outstretched hand. Azriel stood behind her, watching Cassian with curious eyes.

No one knew how this was going to go, what to expect. Azriel never brought girls home, let alone asking Cassian to meet one of them. The moment clear in his mind, as Azriel walked into the dining room to eat breakfast with Cassian.

The shadowsinger sat down, setting his morning coffee, eggs, and bacon in front of him. Cassian looked at him, nodding in greeting as he shoveled some cantaloupe into his mouth.

His brother spoke first, “are you doing anything after lunch?”

Cassian thought about his day, he had dinner plans, but nothing for the afternoon. He shakes his head no, his mouth still full of cantaloupe.

“Good,” his brother tells him, “I want you to meet someone.” Cassian stops chewing, surprised at this. “You want me to meet someone?” Is what he tried to say, but with the cantaloupe blocking his throat, it came out more like, “boo bant me bo beat bomeone?”

Despite the confusing question, Azriel knew what his brother meant and sighed. “Yes, I’ve been… seeing someone.”

His tone conveys he doesn’t want this conversation to continue, but Cassian will not let him get away without a few answers. “You’ve been seeing someone?”

“Yes,” Azriel states, “and she wants to meet you.”

Cassian finally swallows the hunk of cantaloupe, “so it’s a her?” He asks, waggling his eyebrows. Azriel swallows his bite of eggs, disdain coating his voice. “If you can’t handle it-“

Cassian cuts him off, “Oh, I can handle it, brother. I assure you.”

He looked again at the lady in front of him, a smile adorning her face, making her look so soft, so warm.

He can see why she has Azriel wrapped around her finger - she’s been in front of Cassian for all of thirty seconds, telling him her name and offering her hand to shake, and he already finds her incredibly endearing.

But he also wants to give both of them a hard time. As nice as she may look, this is serious for his brother. His brother, who has always felt so undeserving of love, bringing someone to meet his family.

Well, to just meet Cassian. Azriel figured slow introductions was the best way to go about this, and he started with Cassian. A decision Cassian can tell Azriel is starting to regret.

“Ah,” he takes your hand, giving you a bone crushing handshake. You take it like a champ, he notes, as he calls you by the wrong name. It’s close to your own name, but not exact.

You correct him, prompting him to call you a different, incorrect name. He looks at you expectantly, the eye contact you share telling Cassian that you know exactly what he’s doing. And you don’t back down.

“That’s right, Calliope.” You respond, “nice to meet you.” You smile at him, a sweet smile that he sees through.

Wonderful.

-

Azriel had asked Cassian if it would be okay if he brought you to training. It was something you seemed interested in and, Azriel admits to Cass, if things continue he’d prefer you to have some knowledge of defending yourself.

Cassian had seen you a time or two since your first introduction, the two of you continuing to use incorrect names for each other. He agreed to let you come, as long as he could help your training.

You showed up to training the next morning, a teasing smirk making it’s way to Cassian’s face as you approach.

“Behave,” Azriel warns his brother, as he approaches you. You smile as he gets closer, standing on your toes to kiss him quickly.

Cassian’s desire to tease you both falters for a second, wanting nothing more than to make a comment about the red finding its way up Az’s neck, heating his cheeks. The general goes to say something, stopping as he watches the way you look at his brother. Your eyes show such kindness, such warmth, even from yards away.

You walk up, greeting Cassian as you come up to him. “Good morning, Cassandra.” He chuckles, throwing an incorrect name back at you. “You ready to learn?”

You beam, “yeah! Hopefully you’re a good teacher - maybe I’ll surpass you and take your job.”

You start shadow boxing around him, pretending to hit him. Cassian laughs at you, as Azriel looks at you fondly, your back turned to him.

The two of them lead you through a variety of stretches, they teach you how to throw a punch, and where to strike an opponent for the most impact.

“Can I spar with you?” You ask Cassian, both of the males eyebrows shooting up at your request. “I’d ask Azriel, but I don’t want to ruin his pretty face,” you say, cupping his face in your hands.

Cassian grumbles as you two walk towards the clearing, “I’m pretty too…”

You laugh, as he turns to face you. “Okay, sunshine, let’s spar.”

You two circle each other, and Azriel watches from the sidelines in both amusement and to ensure you don’t get hurt. Cassian throws a lazy punch at you, which you block flawlessly, the shock etching his face. You throw a piss poor punch on purpose, wanting him to lower his guard. He blocks your punch easily, and you two continue in this half-assed dance for a few minutes, until you decide to go all out.

You fake a left jab, causing Cassian to move to defend his left side, leaving the right side of his face open for your fist to collide with.

The impact creates a bone breaking sound that doesn’t come from your fingers. Azriel sucks in a breath, running towards the two of you as Cassian falls to the ground.

He looks up at you, the blood dripping down his face. “Where’d you learn that, sunshine?” He laughs, spitting blood out in the ground.

“I have three older brothers,” you smile down at him. “They taught me how to throw a punch.”

You offer a hand, and he takes it, laughing as you help him up.

-

Cassian’s wings were flapping so hard, so fast. He was exhausted, the events of the day catching up to him. Determination to get to you was keeping him moving.

He vaguely knew where you lived, Azriel mentioning stopping by to see you after going to a bakery. He lands in front of the bakery, and does the only things he knows how to: he starts knocking on doors.

Various Velaris citizens open their doors, ready to be angry at whoever is pounding on their door in the dead of night, until they see the High Lord’s General, asking if anyone with your name or your description lives there or if they know you. Eventually he reaches a door where the woman inside tells him that you live a few doors down, with the green door and flowers on your doorstep.

He approaches the door, knocking until you open the door, only allowing a small sliver to see who is there. “Cassian?” You ask, opening the door wider. He can tell he woke you up, due to your messy hair and sapphire blue nightgown.

You wake up at the realization of Cassian being at your door, immediately asking him if Azriel’s okay. Cassian shakes his head, asking if you want to come see him. You ask how dire it is, and he says you have a moment to change into actual clothes. You find some sweatpants and a shirt Azriel had left at your place, and allow his brother to scoop you into his arms as you two fly towards the House of Wind.

The flight is silent, both of your anxieties practically palpable through the air. You two eventually land, Cassian leading you directly to Azriel’s chambers.

You had been a frequent visitor to Az’s room in the other residences, but you’d only been in the House of Wind once. You’re thankful for Cassian’s lead, following close behind him.

You wind through the halls until Cassian stops in front of a door, knocking softly. He waits a moment, then enters, no response from the other side. He opens the door and Rhys is present, turning to look at the both of you as you enter the room.

You take in Azriel’s form on the bed. He’s asleep, you hope, watching his chest, watching it rise and fall slowly. You match your breathing with his, the deep breaths calming you, the only way Azriel can soothe you right now.

“How- uh- how bad is it?” You ask, unable to look away from his form on the bed. You approach slowly, taking in the injuries as you get closer. You’re a few feet away and you can see the deep bruising on his face, his chest, his arms. You shutter, his knuckles covered in blood.

Rhys grabs your shoulders softly, “he’s going to be okay, sore, but okay. He was asking for you, though.”

You nod, Azriel’s request warming your heart a bit. He always came to you after missions to help bandage his wounds. You smile a bit at the fact that whatever the hell happened to him out there didn’t stop him from wanting to continue that tradition.

Cassian is the first to move, as he moves two chairs to sit next to Azriel’s bed. He gestures for you to sit in one of them, as he takes up residence in the other one.

Rhys rubs your shoulders softly as he asks, “do you want some tea? Water? Anything?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Some tea would be nice, thanks.”

Azriel woke up feeling incredibly groggy and like he had fallen from a balcony. He heard laughing, and he kept his eyes closed to figure out what was happening near him.

The room smelled like his room, the sheets felt like his, and he almost snapped his eyes open at your laugh.

No, not just your laugh, but the loud boisterous laugh of Cassian and the soft amused laugh of Rhys.

The three of you were talking about him.

“The morning he told me he wanted us to meet, he was shaking like a wet dog,” Rhys said, amusement lacing his tone.

“No hr wasn’t,” you say, shock in your voice. “Oh, yes,” Rhys replies, shifting in his seat. “He’s never brought anyone home before, and he’s never talked about anyone before.”

Cassian snorts, “I almost caught him with someone a century ago. I swear I heard something, but when I came in poof they were gone.”

You laugh, the sound filling Azriel’s chest with warmth. “He had told me that you two wanted to meet me!”

Rhys laughs, “he told us you wanted to meet us!”

You all laugh, as Azriel stirs slightly. He opened his eyes to find Rhys in a chair on his right, with you and Cassian taking up two chairs on his left.

“Don’t listen to anything they say,” Azriel rasps, coughing from how dry his throat was. “They’re both liars.”

Azriel closed his eyes again, but he felt your hand wrap around his, and he could see your face in his mind. Your hand squeezed his, and despite the injuries, he couldn’t help the smile on his face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi Azzy,” Cassian responds, earning a groan from Azriel.

You want to touch his face, but you’re worried you’ll hurt him.

“Well, now that you’re awake, we’ll see ourselves out,” Rhysand told him, offering him a wink as his brothers get up and begin moving to the door.

“A woman’s love is the best medicine,” Cassian says.

“You assholes aren’t even going to see how I am? After staying all night?”

Cassian laughs, “oh, we didn’t stay here out of concern over you. We stayed to keep her company.”

-

Looking at where you and the general stood, you regretted the events leading you here. “I’m just saying he’d love this little black number.”

Cassian currently had an arm draped around a mannequin, wearing the least amount of fabric possible.

“Cassian,” you hiss, embarassment leaking out of you, “why are we here?”

“You asked for help for a gift - this is my help!” He says, gesturing broadly around the lingerie shop. You hiss at him, “this isn’t what I had in mind-“

A chipper voice cuts you off, “good morning! How are you two today?” You turn to find a pretty shopkeeper looking at you and Cassian, her eyes lingerinf on his biceps wrapped around the mannequin. You swear you see him flex a little.

Cassian looks at you with a shit-eating grin as he tells her, “great! I’m helping her find a gift for my brother.”

She looks between you two, confusion on her face. “Is it for him to wear? We have a men’s section-“

“No, no,” Cassian says,”I’ll come back another day to check out that section. We’re looking for something for her, preferably in black or blue.”

He smiles at the shop associate, and she blushes at his attention. He winks at her, as she turns around to find you some options.

“Cassian, I’d prefer it if you weren’t aware of my lingerie choices.”

He raises his hands up, “I can close my eyes if that’ll make you feel better.” He places his hands over his eyes, “just guide me around the store, please, so I don’t fondle any mannequins.”

-

“I know something you don’t know,” Cassian coos at you, swaggering into the room. You’re seated in the library, enjoying a nice book by the fire. At least, you were.

“Hi Cass,” you say, taking a sip of your wine. He plops down next to you, stretching his arm behind you on the couch. You almost recoil at his smell, clearly coming in straight from training or fighting or something.

“Ugh, Cass, can you shower before showing up? You have a smell.” You fake gag at him.

He waggles his eyebrows, “some call it a musk,” he replies, “and I know you like it when Azzie is all sweaty after training.”

You roll your eyes, moving a little away from him. “Yes, but he’s hot. It’s different.”

He gawks at you. “It’s not different!” He insists, “I’m hot!”

You sigh, accepting the turn in conversation. “Yes, but not when you smell like that.”

He waggles his eyebrows, “so you do think I’m hot?” You slap him across the chest. “Yes, you’re a very handsome boy. Now what did you know that I don’t?”

Cassian pauses, trying to remember why he came in here in the first place. Then he remembers, smiling at you. He leaned back, placing his hands together on his stomach.

“Ah, yes. I know something you don’t know.”

You huff, “yes Cassian, and I know plenty that you don’t know.”

“Yes but my knowledge is about a certain pretty shadowsinger.”

You eye him, his grin spanning his whole face. “What do you know?”

Cassian looks at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. “What’s it worth to you?”

You push him, “tell me.”

“What’s it worth?”

“Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“Value?”

You sigh, “I’ll set you up with my friend Varia.”

He lifts an eyebrow, “promise?”

“If your information is valuable enough.”

“Oh I can guarantee it.”

“Then we have a deal. What do you know?”

Cassian looks around the room, to ensure you’re truly alone, including the presence of any nosey shadows. Once he feels confident you’re truly alone, he tells you, “I saw him in a jewelry store today.”

You pause, “okay?”

“And your birthday isn’t for six months, solstice was two months ago, your anniversary is in 8 months, so…”

He motions his hands, hoping you’ll get what he’s insinuating.

“He’s preparing?” You ask. The general rolls his eyes. He grabs both of your arms, shaking you as he tells you, “he was looking at rings!”

You gasp, “no you did not! Did you see any? What did they look like? Do you think they’d fit my fingers?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, “well he wasn’t shopping at Jewelry for Giants”

You hit him in the chest with a pillow. “No, I didn’t see any of them, but he was there for quite a while. Pretty sure the shop assistant showed him everything he had in the store.”

You squeal, launching yourself onto Cassian in a hug. “This better be real, valid intel Cassian or I swear I’ll cut off your testicles and feed them to Bryaxis.”

He eventually leaves, having had enough of your squealing and questions about rings, opting for a glass of milk before bed. As he’s in the kitchen pouring a glass he hears from behind him, “Cassian I know you saw me.”

He flinches, but just barely, causing the shadowsinger to smile just a touch. “Saw you where?”

Azriel sighed, “stop playing dumb with me Cassian, you saw me at Winston’s Jewelry.”

Cassian’s surprised at Azriel’s forwardness, his lack of dancing around subjects a skill Cassian wishes he shared. “Yes, I did. So? I assumed you were buying a birthday gift.”

His brother doesn’t buy the fib. “You know exactly what I was looking for in that store.”

“Mm, jewelry?”

Azriel closes his eyes, counting to ten, to keep himself from leaping across the kitchen and stabbing his brother. He keeps his eyes closed as he says, “I bought a ring.”

“This is so sudden, brother, I mean how could I say yes when we haven’t even spent a night together?”

Azriel rubs the bridge of his nose, annoyance still there from the moment he saw Cassian watching him. “Not for you, for her.” He pauses and Cassian doesn’t try to fill it, waiting for Azriel to continue.

Azriel sighs, letting the truth fill the room. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Cassian cheers in delight, excitement coursing through him.

“How are you going to do it? A bunch of flowers everywhere? Oh, oh, put the ring on your cock and -“

Azriel balks at Cassian, the headache coming back. He goes to walk away, but stops. “Just - don’t tell her you saw me. Please?”

Cassian pales, but agrees, and watches his brother head towards his room. Once he hears the click of his door, he races across the house to the library, where you’re still seated.

“Don’t-“ he pants, “mention anything about rings.” He pants again, surprisingly winded. “I didn’t tell you anything.” He turns to walk away, but he hears you say, “okay?” before he walks out.

-

You were spreading olive oil across the grape tomatoes as you heard your door open. You didn’t hear movement as your husband walked into the kitchen, your back turned to him.

“You’re home early,” you say, stirring the gnocchi. “How was your day, sweets?”

“It was fine, darling,” you hear Cassian respond, followed by a chair dragging across your floor as he plops down, spreading his legs wide, taking up a considerable amount of space.

You turned around, expecting a different Illyrian in your kitchen, a quick retort on your tongue as you look down and see his shoes. “Cassian!” You scold, “I’ve told you to take off your muddy boots before you come in.”

You walk over to him, flicking him in the ear. He rubs it softly, muttering about something. “Sorry, dear,” he says, emphasizing the term of endearment, as he starts unlacing his shoes.

You begin walking back to continue your cooking. “I thought you were my husband,” you shout to him as he walks back through your living room, the door softly opening. “Well, I’m flattered sweetheart, I thought we could have had something special, too, but my rascal of a brother got you first.”

You roll your eyes at him, stirring your noodles, “We never would have worked out, Cass. We’re both too chipper, we need to share our happiness with the grumps of the world.”

Cassian snorted, opening your fridge to grab a beer, “no we wouldn’t have worked out because Azriel would have murdered me if I made a move.”

He opens his beer bottle with his teeth, chuckling.

You laugh, cutting up your cooked chicken to mix it back into the pasta. “Oh what could have been, Cass. The world wouldn’t have been able to handle us together.”

“I know I certainly couldn’t.”

You smile, feeling your husband ghost a kiss to your cheek. He wraps his arms around you, basking in your scent before he goes to get his own beer.

Cassian rolls his eyes, “you would have skulked for hundreds of years, brother.” Your eyebrows raise, “you think we would have been together for centuries?”

“Oh yeah,” Cassian nods, putting his beer down on the table. “If not out of love, out of spite.” He gives Azriel a little smirk, and Azriel slaps the back of his head.

“Why are you here, Cass, other than to flirt with my wife?” He asks, taking his usual seat at the table.

“Yeah, Cass, didn’t you have a date tonight?” You ask, placing the pan in the oven and setting a timer. Azriel stills at your question. His brother did have a date tonight, one that should have started two hours ago.

You both reach the same conclusion as you say, “oh, Cass,” turning around to look at him. “What happened?”

He shrugs, starting to rip the label off his bottle to occupy himself. “She just.. wasn’t right.” He sighs, a contemplative look overcoming his features. “I just want something real. Not a few nights, not a few months. Something real. Like you two.”

Cassian’s face reddens, his admission in the air. He’s about to apologize, but you wrap your arms around his head, placing your own on top of his.

“You deserve someone incredible, Cass. Someone that isn’t me.” He laughs, patting your arms. “I’m sorry she didn’t work out. But you’re free to stay for dinner tonight, if you want. I’m making pesto chicken gnocchi.”

Cassian sighs, deflating in your arms a bit, “I don’t want to impose-“

Azriel snorts, “yes you do. Go ahead, Cassian. Impose. We’re happy to let you.” Cassian smiles, a real, genuine smile. Most nights the loneliness doesn’t get to him, but this is a rare night for vulnerability, and as the three of you gather around the table, gossiping about the girl Rhys was under the mountain with and how she was now at the Moonstone Palace with Rhys, Cassian feels his friends help carry his burden.

[charliedawn]

Heyyy :) glad your back 🖤🖤🖤 I don’t know if your doing requests or not but if you are could you do, how would the slashers flirt with nurse? (Particularly five since he is like a old man I thought that would be funny) no worries if you can’t, I love your work ❣️❣️❣️

Warning: Highly suggestive.

Bo Sinclair :

"Well…Hello there, sugar pie. Ya lookin’ mighty alone. Mind if I change that fer ya ?"

Captain Smooth and Sailing. Bo knows how to be charming and he’d just waltz in with the biggest grin on his face and lean back before shooting you a smouldering gaze.

He knows what he wants and will go to any means to get it. And I mean any…

Bo *sneaking up on you from behind and wrapping his arms around you before giving you a kiss on the shoulder* "…Good mornin’, sunflower…How ya doin’ ? Good ? That’s great…" *whispers in your ear* "Bet I could make it better fer ya though."

He can be smooth, but also filthy. Depends on the day. One day he’ll be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the next he’ll be slapping your ass and calling it a day.

Pennywise:

Pennywise doesn’t touch. And doesn’t like being touched. His flirtation will be very limited and subtle. It’ll mostly be grins and cackles and mocking huffs…

Pennywise: "Well…Hello there, beautiful. Do you know that your hair is a mess and you look more like an asylum patient than a nurse today ?"

You *roll your eyes and start walking away* "Good morning to you too, Pennywise."

Him *snickers behind you* "Good morning indeed. If I still had to spook children to get my food, I’d certainly take your morning face…That’d do the trick."

Yeah…That’s Pennywise flirting. He wouldn’t flirt with you face to face…but he’d still do some things from time to time.

For example, you may find breakfast magically appearing on your desk, or a cup of (h/d) next to you when you finally sit and take a break.

Penny :

Penny *hugs you tightly and refuses to let you go*

You : "…Penny. I need to work."

Penny *squeezes you harder*

Yeah…You won’t get any work done. That’s for sure. Penny is stubborn. He will not leave you alone and will keep holding you until he has enough.

That’s his way of flirting.

But…He has another side to him.

He bites. He can use it to show affection. He does it sometimes with his brother and the other slashers, but he’d be extra gentle with you and be careful not to hurt you.

He’d bite your wrist, your neck, your cheek…Just to say that he appreciates you. And even if it’s just to say hello. That’s Penny flirting. He doesn’t use words, but actions.

Vincent :

He takes pictures of you. They were pretty innocent at first. He’d take pictures of you walking around the hospital and taking care of the patients. The staff even used his photographs to advertise the hospital.

But quickly…the photographs became recurrent and more intimate. He’d follow you around and almost beg you to pose for him.

He’d become obsessed and bring you some of his morbid art pieces for you two to simply talk and be close to you.

And you try to deny him attention ?

The man knows how to get what he wants. He’s similar to Bo in that way, but where Bo is demanding ? Vincent is all about begging and whining.

He’d go down on his knees and grab the hem of your shirt to pull you towards him and beg you to let him take photographs of you and keep them. Take some for his…personal use.

Vincent flirting is desperation.

He’d beg you until you give him the time of day.

Michael Myers :

Michael *wordlessly pats his thigh*

The seat is all yours if you want it.

Kidding. Or not.

*cough cough*

Michael likes to cook and he’d fix you meals to cheer you up and listen to you if you need to. He’d be the perfect gentleman and even though he can’t talk, he’d make it obvious that he likes you through other means.

He’d protect you and make sure you are happy.

Unfortunately, because he can’t help bu want to kill you all the time, it’d be very difficult for the both of you to actually go on a date or go more than flirting basis. But, he’d still try to let you know that he likes you sometimes.

Michael *takes your hand and pulls you into a tight hug*

Michael may look or sound unapproachable at first, but it is because he is afraid of giving into hate and just lose control over the little humanity he has left…

Freddy Krueger :

"Yo. Wanna bang ?"

Freddy is NOT subtle. He’s a slimy and sleazy little goblin who loves nothing more than touch, grab, grope and squeeze.

He’d follow you around like your personal horny demon.

"Coooome on ! I know ya wanna see what’s in my pants ! Just say yes, sweetheart ! See how daddy does it !"

Filthy language and sleazy smirks all the way. He’d be whistling after you and tip his fedora at you or lick his lips while looking you up and down.

To make it short: Flirty is his middle name and he’d just make sure to let you know that he is ALWAYS available and ready.

Freddy *smirks and takes your hand before dancing with you* "COME ON ! Move those curves, lovely !" *cackles*

Freddy may look and sound like a scumbag most of the time, but he is capable of being romantic. He only lets special people see it.

Jason :

Jason is shy and will never be confrontational when it comes to flirting.

He maybe waves at you and hugs you sometimes, but not enough for you to understand what he means.

But, he is good with his hands and soon enough, goes to work.

Jason leaves you gifts. On your desk, on your nightstand, or any place he thinks you and only you would find them.

He carves little wooden figurines, mostly of frogs that he leaves around for you to find. And you always do. You then put then on a special shelf in the living room for everyone to see and admire.

It may not have been the initial goal, but he is happy to see you smile. And that is all he needs…

Norman Bates :

"My darling…Would you…Would you do me the honour of going on a special outing with me ? Just the two of us ?"

Norman was an anxious wreck. He had sweaty hands and an nervous smile on his face. He wanted you to say yes. He had been thinking about a way to approach the matter with you for weeks…

You smiled back and when you accepted…he was overjoyed.

Norman is rather old-fashioned. His way of flirting is asking you out and treating you like a princess (or a prince)

He’d be more than happy to compliment you all day long and simply brush his fingers against yours while you stare deeply into each other’s eyes.

Five Hargreeves :

"Tell me, Y/N. Are you alright ?"

You glanced back at him and blinked twice at the child who just asked you that question.

"…Last time I checked. Yes."

You then focused back on your work and tried to forget about it, but then Five sat down on your desk to look at the papers you were signing.

You didn’t think much of it until he rested his hand on the back of your neck and his thumb traced circles there.

You looked up at him, and he stared right back. You knew he was technically older inside but…You still swapped his hand away.

"Okay. What do you want ?"

"You. Me. Drink."

Your eyes widened and you looked around.

"How about you come back to me when you are…say…15 years older ?"

Yeah. He may be older in his mind. But his body is still very much the one of a child so…Wait and see.

Patrick Bateman :

"Y/N. It has come to my attention that we haven’t had sex yet. Care to explain why ?"

That man has the ego of a mansion. He wouldn’t be flirting, he’d be practical.

Who needs feelings ? Who needs flirting ? He knows you find him attractive. And you know he finds you attractive. Why waste time on things like flirting ?

Patrick Bateman is a business man.

He sees a relationship as unnecessary as long as it doesn’t bring him anything.

So, if he starts showing interest in you ?

…

..

.

Run.

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Bo and Vincent Sinclair Headcanons:

❝ She always said your talent would make up for what God took away from you. ❝

[SFW Headcanons]

Pairings: Artist!Reader x Vincent Sinclair. FemBimbo!Reader x Bo Sinclair.

Warnings: Slight pervert!Bo Sinclair, Mentions of kidnapping+murders, Manipulation.

A/N: Sinclair Twins are some of my new favs. They are so delectably made I can’t- So here are headcanons BUT with describing what their specific types are instead of keeping it vague. Also, I view Vincent as a selective mute who’s vocal chords are a bit fucked up so he only speaks a few times a day so not a complete mute.

Vincent Headcanons:

✎ Vincent hasn't had any dating experience so much of what he knows is from what Bo has told him which didn't make it interesting in his eyes. But when he sees you, all he wants to do is admire you for whatever reason.

✎ He’d specifically go after you and be the first victim he’d kidnap rather than outright kill.

✎ He tries to convince you he isn’t dangerous (to you) and does little things to prove it. Showing off his drawings, playing music for you, writing notes and letters to you.

✎ Vincent would honestly come off strong because he doesn’t understand how fast or slow a relationship to go. The moment he spotted you, you were already his in his mind.

✎ When you fall for him despite his masked face and silent behaviors, you adjust and get used to him. After all, he wasn’t bad at all. He’d keep you in his room which was tidy and neat as his mother taught him, he’d make sure you were completely taken care of and he was sweet in his little notes.

✎ Vincent’s handwriting is perfect as he was taught to do. His notes would be a little formal but adorable things to find before he slinks away to his studio. “Hello, Y/N. I hope you are adjusting well. :) I wanted to know what foods you like so I can tell Bo to make them. Please write back before lunchtime.”

✎ When he discovers you were an artist as well, he was giddy and excited! Someone who knew what it was like to cycle through ideas and fixate on a project for hours on end.

✎ His few words he’d speak a day would be regarding your own art. No matter what it was, he’d tell Lester to get you the supplies for it and watch over you as you worked.

✎ His ragged and hoarse voice spoken into your ear. “Beautiful…”

✎ He’d randomly gift mini wax sculptures of your favorite animals each week that he worked on between sculptures. Each one better and better than the last.

✎ Vincent thrives on your praise. Sweet boy can’t help but lower his head and blush under his mask at each compliment.

✎ His favorite thing about morning routines were when you’d touch and brush his hair. The massaging at the scalp and tingly feeling he’d get as the brush ran down his black strands felt all too good. He’d also let you do whatever hairstyle you wanted.

✎ Vincent would draw you constantly in his sketchbook. He has pages and pages of different angles of your face, what clothing you wore on a certain day or how you posed during breakfast.

✎ Any and I mean ANY sketches you give him in return? He’s holding onto it like it’s pure gold. He hangs it in his studio where he’s at the most to view it all the time.

✎ Trusts your critiques and observations more than anyone else’s and often asks for your opinion on his pieces.

✎ Doesn’t believe that you like his face without the mask but when he sees you present him with a sketch of his half-mutilated face, he’s stunned. To see him, the truest version of him, as something you deemed worthy to spend time depicting absolutely melts him. He starts to become more willing to remove his mask around you especially if it means he’ll get more drawings like that.

✎ Bo would want so badly to tease Vincent for how he acts around you since Vincent is absolutely infatuated but Bo and Lester find it adorable and are happy Vincent found someone despite everything.

✎ He would definitely want to do those heart hands or hand holding wax molds with you and keep it on his desk.

Bo Headcanons:

> This man’s perfect woman has to be a bimbo, I’m sorry. Someone who is perfectly stupid to overlook some toxic qualities to him and won’t suspect any of his more… violent hobbies.

> Doesn’t have to be the stereotypical busty, all-pink wearing bimbo but just a pretty but airheaded girl.

> He’d originally plan on killing you when you showed up saying your car broke down. You were pretty but so were some other victims who had come through Ambrose. But that dumb factor? Oh, now he’s all in.

> Absolute charmer and reels you in and away from the rest of your group. He’d keep making up reasons as to why you should stay for longer than lie about where your group went.

> He’d keep you sat in the gas station, seeing you so easily entertained. He’d put on that charming smile and tuck your hair behind your ear. “Seems like everyone left you behind, sweetheart. How about you stay jus’ a bit longer, hm? Still need to fix up that car a’ yours, don’t we?”

> He does absolutely use your ditzy and air-headed nature to his advantage to tease because who is he if not a teasing charmer?

> “Aww, sugar, there ain’t much goin’ on in that pretty little head a’ yours, is there?”

> He has purposefully done something to make you trip so he can catch you and make it into a whole romantic scene.

> Absolutely brags to Vincent and Lester about how perfect his girlfriend is.

> He cannot get enough of you at the end of the day. He may have gone into it looking to just use you but consider yourself a charmer as well because he’s soon completely enraptured.

> He enjoys watching you get ready in the morning. Bo will get distracted himself and end up just watch you do your makeup for ten minutes, admiring how pretty you look for him.

> NOTHING BUT PRINCESS TREATMENT!!! He can be toxic and a tease but he likes to be a gentleman too.

> He’s kneeling to put on your shoes on for you, kissing up your leg as he does. He keeps a hand on your back to guide you as you two walk together. Don’t even think about paying for anything because his hand is already in his pocket, ready to pay.

> Bo spoils you rotten. He can’t help it when you smile so sweetly at him that it’s honestly unfair. Sometimes it’s stuff at the store other times it’s stuff he stole from a victim before they met their end. You wouldn’t know, of course, so it’s always a sweet thing.

> If he’s buying you clothes, he’s picking out the tightest options so he can see your body constantly. He’s already turned on constantly by you but he wants to have you all dolled up for him always.

> Although sometimes it can be annoying to have you be so oblivious, he resists any direct insults or rude names since he knows you’ll take it to heart. He never wants to see you upset.

> He knows how much you love his Southern accent and dials it up to 11 with sweet pet names when he needs you for something.

> “Sweetheart, do me a favor an’ pass me the wrench? S’got the blue handle, honey, you know which one.”

> Favorite thing he’s seen you do is when you stole his clothing and became a mini-Bo. Wearing his hat and a jumpsuit all proud of yourself and he couldn’t help but chuckle and claim you should dress like that more often so people know you’re all his.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[whiskehorange]

How the Slashers Would Treat Your Stuffed Animals

literally pissing and crying writing this right neow.

Also, Happy New Years Loves! I wish everyone and myself a better 2023, I couldn't ask for better supporters ♥♥

Michael

Stabs them repeatedly when youre not home until theyre nothing but a shredded mess like an untrained dog and when you confront him he denies it like you've accused him of murder.

Wait-

Jason

Kisses each one on the forehead goodnight like he's going to be deployed in the morning. Comes home the next day with glass display cases for you to put your favorites/ most valuable in. Even buys them personalized stickers and trinkets to but in and on their box like he's assigned them their own personalities.

Freddy

Punches each and every one of them in the face as hard as he can like they all own him a grand each right in front of you, laughing until he violently shit himself while you scream at him to leave them alone.

Bubba

Gives each one their own day to help/follow him around the farm (carrying them around in one arm or aggressively stuffing them down his pants when he needs to use both hands) while actively getting them dirty with blood, dirt, and shit or tearing them in the process of being so unintentionally violent.

Thomas

Gives them dirty looks when they touch his stuff but actively grows very fond of them and shares all of the family drama and tea with them when they are alone. The dirty looks shift to you when you walk in on a heated tea spill session.

Brahms

Steals them from you.

Humps them.

Cries and denies taking them if you find them before he's able to "sneakily" put them back where he got them.

Billy

Refuses to acknowledge them and absolutely refuses to touch them, but buys you more and more whenever he's out by himself. When you leave the room he apologizes for ignoring them all day and adds the new friend to your collection. Has to turn them away when the two of you do the dirty.

Stu

Gives them all government first, middle, and last names and doesn't forget them either. Also constantly buy you new ones whenever he sees them and issues them names, social security numbers, and jobs before he even gives them to you. Makes them beef with each other.

Norman

Dresses up and has tea parties with them. When your not home. Writes and prints hand made name tags, name plates, bibs, and beautifully crafted invitations with their own messages for all of them. Spends hours making real treats for said parties.

Hannibal

Quietly passive aggressively threatens each of them that if hey even think about getting closer to you that he'll destuff them and use their skin as pillow covers, and will do so in front of the others. Insists that he loves them when you ask, shooting them dirty looks after you've turned around.

Bo

Crop-dusts them if you keep them waist level and will even grab them and purposely rip the fattest, wettest, most gut wrenching, stomach rumbling, room clearing, radioactive, leg lifting fart you've ever heard right in their face and throw it at you, flipping you off as he walks away.

Vincent

Makes them all their own little wax sculpture the same color as their fur and keeps them on a shelf above where you keep yours. Still doesn't have the heart to tell you that he stole one from you once to sculpt and accidentally dropped it in a vat of wax and had to dump the whole basin because it was ruined. Claims you must have just misplaced it.

Lester

Makes you homemade, roadkill fur stuffed abominations that smell like the wettest of shit and will set them right next to yours on your bed/shelf. Can never remember the names of your stuffed ones and called them something not even close to what they are, thinking he's 100% right. Pets them unconsciously if he's standing next to them and just mindlessly talking.

[gundawifey-inactive]

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕒'𝕤 𝔹𝕠𝕪

Bo Sinclair x Fem! Reader Smut !18+! !MDNI! Syn. Bo has the tendency to compare his wife to his mom, and she's getting real sick of it. Tags. unprotected sex, p in v, housewife-reader, toxic/dysfunctional marriage, implied verbal abuse, mommy-kink, hurt/comfort, slightest breeding-kink, mommy-issues (Bo's, not child's), Bo & reader's son's name is Billy, (no use of y/n) Word Count. 2.9k

Droplets of scalding oil fly off the heavily greased pan and hit your skin like prickles, shit hurts. Not as much as your eardrums do, though, same as your other arm you aren't using to hold the handle of the pan that's carrying the twenty-five-pound toddler in your other arm that's screaming bloody murder. 

"'Wanna play outside! MORE PLAYTIME!" another shriek of baby babbles wrecks the barrier protecting the shell of your ear. You groan, attempting to bounce Billy while also attempting to not burn the dinner on the pan, yeah that'd hurt more. Bo's been working 'round Ambrose all day, as usual, you don't need two temper tantrums to deal with over a burnt supper.

"God damn.." You suck in a breath when Billy knees into your side and you almost drop the food cooking. He's a growing boy for sure, pudgy small legs of his grown enough to land some fatal kicks. Bo would've laughed, except it's not funny, not when you're the one dealing with the kid all day. "You can't go outside, it's late baby." You try and reason with the kid, but you know, he's a kid.

"No! Wanna play! WANNA PLAY OUTSIDE!" He retorts, it's a nonexistent counter-point, not like he could make one anyway, his vocabulary is as small as he is. 

Another bubble of sizzling oil scars your wrist shaking the pan and you damn near snap at it. All things considered, to say you were overwhelmed is an understatement. The grip you have on Billy snugs and you let go of the panhandle, leaving the frying food on the stove, instead drifting your full attention to Billy's. 

"Enough." You elongate your words, mommy voice pitching deep and you wrap both hands around him, staring him down. "Daddy's gonna be home soon and that means supper then bed for you, no more playtime, 'specially when it's dark out." You scold. Billy whines and tosses around in your arms, dramatic showmanship but doesn't screech back at you anymore, at least. 

At this point, your patience is out the window, and while thank god your ears ain't bleeding, you need the toddler to just calm down so you can get back to finishing up dinner. About to burst, the door swings open first, cutting off the next little lecture you were going to dump on Billy, familiar taps on the old wooded floor, Bo's home. 

His boot turns and he grins at you and Billy, stepping to the kitchen quickly. "How're my babies?" Bo said before he could really process the exact situation he stepped into. 

Turning to face Bo rather than the miniature of him in your arms, your brows furrow at him, and Billy just keeps, whining. Squirming around in your arms while you glare at Bo, not that you're mad at him, okay maybe you are but not justifiably, at the moment you're just mad. Bo doesn't acknowledge it, instead looking around then to the stove. 

Shit, dinner. 

"You burnt supper," He gestures to the now char-blacked mix of ingredients inside the pan, nose and eyes crinkling in disgust at it. Funny, he's seen plenty of burnt shit, like corpses, but god forbid his dinner be burnt. 

You choose to ignore the statement. "Can you take him?" You ask instead, reaching your arms outward for Bo to take Billy out of them. He wails between your arms, tiny nails digging into your skin while you try to hand him to Bo, let him help out. 

"Can't handle him yourself?" Bo replies and doesn't take Billy out your arms, raising a judgemental brow at you. 

"Just take him so I can fix the food." You respond, nudging your chin up in the direction of Billy for Bo to take him, but he doesn't.

"Bo." His name parts from you in a restrained growl. 

Billy is out of your arms into Bo's now, but there isn't any sweetness in the expression Bo gives you when he does. Mercy isn't present in his gesture, taking the kid and giving you another judgy look in lieu of a willing expression as he does. 

Circling between the kitchen to living room Bo rocks Billy over his shoulder, letting him wail it out till he gets exhausted by his fit. Eventually, the whines soften to snores. A momentary silence as Bo rocks him in his arms, you opting out of remaking the earlier failed meal with Billy now sound asleep. For a second your eyes meet Bo's while you wash the burnt remains off of the pan, as he walks off with the sleeping toddler to put him to bed.

"Need help with that too?" He balances himself against the hardwood kitchen counter clicking his tongue from behind you, there's the tiniest amount of condescension in his voice. See that, that shit hurts a lot more than hot oil. Can't control that mouth of his, has a mind of its own, he told you once too many times by now when, if, he'd bother to check up on you after airing out his bullshit onto you. 

"No." You've learned not to engage with whatever got him pissed by now, not with Bo. Vincent doesn't, hell even Lester doesn't, why would you? Would be stupid to. Not like he hits you or anything anyway, just mouths off sick filth with absolutely no filter. Got the worst of tempers but he does enough gutting and beating in his own time when getting Vincent his wax muses.

A mock laugh erupts from Bo and he tilts himself forward to your side of the kitchen, leaning over the sink to look you in the eye. Once again, you ignore the bubbling rage emanating from him, boiling up. But you can handle heat. Spend half your day on the frypan taking care of the boys, even if it means the boys just burn you twice as much. 

Bo sucks in his teeth, and you can feel the room getting warmer, not the arousing kind, Bo's signature can be being a horny fucking mess, but also an angry one. "I don't get it." He scoffs, shaking his head at the unsaid words he isn't even gonna try and hold back on. "It's one kid, for fucks sake."

Now this, you know where this one's going. Reuccering theme of your husbands, the never-ending need to nitpick at your parenting. He bitches about damn well everything, but there are those times you feel the tips of your nerves itch all wrong, like a sixth sense at this point when he's about to spit those abhorrent words. 

"My Mama managed fine with three so," Ah, there it is, your least favourite words to ever grace God's green earth. Broken record at this point with how often Bo brings it up. 'My Mama never-' 'My Mama did-' Words that seemed to toss any left sanity you had in you into the fire you thought you had grown used to, but no you didn't. Because it burns more hellish each time it's said. 

"I'm sure she did." Your teeth grit while you speak feigning little control as you try and remain docile, not to fan the flame any further. 

"Shouldn't be burnin' dinner, you know your way 'round a fire." He adds, voice raising with each sentence. Damn straight you know your way around a fire, dealing with Bo's frenzies all the time, you've gone numb to the temperature he inflicts with his tongue.

"Billy was having a tantrum." You gently defend.

"You call that a tantrum?" Bo snorts, taunting the notion. "Small lil hissy-fit at best, darlin'. My Mama ain't never burnt no meals over my tantrums." 

"Well, I'm not your Mama." You snarl cutting him off, pupils jolting away from the dish you were scrubbing to Bo's. Sick and tired is one way to describe the crazy you were experiencing right now at Bo's statements. A band snapping in the kitchen between you and him 

The edge of his shoulders stiffens into a line, and for the first time since you've known him, you think you've burnt him instead. A woefully pathetic air casts in his over his eyes, turning pitiable. "No, you're not." He replies as if he's testing the words, tasting them in his mouth as he verbalizes them, and they taste bittersweet sort of wrong. An unfortunate truth. 

Not sure if you're more shocked at yourself, or Bo right now you simply pause at the sight. Bo is, in fact, not yelling back at you. Shutting you up in some pseudo-volume battle that'd sure to have woken up anyone asleep in the house. Instead, he just looks at you like a kicked dog, not too far from what he was, his life considered.

The air goes cold, bedsheets feeling extra plush around you, that sort of featherlight coolness engulfing you on the bed, odd. Rarely cold in Ambrose, even in the dead of night. Much less soft, you're more used to suffocating in heat, wax requires it to meld and shape, And Bo pours it out in all his hot-headed tantrums you get burdened with. 

Bed post creaking you look over your shoulder from your side and the familiar dip on the other side has Bo there finding his usual spot beside you. 

This isn't hellfire hot, this is limbo, off-putting quietude, yet not tranquil. A second passes and Bo just stares off at the rusted ceiling. Did you break Bo? Did you fuck it up this time, like seriously fuck it up with what you said? More disturbed by the blue tune of silence than hollering, you turn completely to him. 

"Uhm," You start, unsure of where you're going with your question. "You still mad at me?" If he was, you're sure you would've known it, Bo doesn't shy away from his anger or showcasing it. Still, you question. 

"I'm not mad at you, darlin'." Bo sighs, shutting his eyes to avoid yours, wrinkles of the eyelid creasing in some kind of negative emotion.

Gently rolling to Bo's side you land atop his chest pressing your cheek flat against it, hearing the thump of his heart, familiarized with it by now. His arm finds place around your side rubbing your back instinctively. "Just, you know, my Mama... My Mama was real different than ya. Different to how you're with Billy."

There's an internal tick being set off because you've heard him sing this song too many times, about his Mama. Not that you had anything against the lady, bless her for raising your man, and bless your man for respecting her, it's sweet. But it's the constant comparing that had you getting all worked up.

"Different to how you're with me..." He adds, swallowing back a lump, and perhaps if you haven't gone crazy officially, a tear as well. So, this is not where you were expecting the conversation to go. Bo's not mad, not picking at you for the expectation his mother set. 

"You're so, so patient. With Billy, with me." He praises, he's praising you. Not mad, not disappointed, grateful. "Don't hurt me, at all, only," He groans, the bridge of his brow pinching, eyes still shut as he speaks. A vulnerability in his tone. "You only do me good. Make me feel good."  He means it all, with complete genuineness. Almost as though he's shocked at you for it, 'cause Bo's never seen you hit Billy, the kid's only got scars from scruffy tree branches that scrapped his knees. Bo's are all too vivid, leather and duct tape that's no longer there but still stings in his wrists and ankles. Never knew a woman could get so gentle, not with how his mama was, yet you were.

You smooth a hand over his chest where you lay, up to his cheek, hovering over his waterline wiping off the tears before they've fallen with a soft motion. "Shh, Bo." You soothe.

"Christ darlin'. You're such a good Mommy..." Bo murmurs, releasing a shaky breath, opening his eyes to look at you. Disbelief apparent from the quake rumbling through the way he speaks right now. He mumbles something else intangible and pulls you flush closer to him. 

Sweat salts your skin, snapping hips up and down against each other room re-enveloped with familiar warmth while you swallow him whole. 

"O-Ohh.. S'good, such a good boy, Bo." You warble in mixed moans, absolutely drenching the sheets under the round of your ass Bo pounding languidly into your gushing cunt. Tips of your finger pushing indents into the muscle of his back. 

Fervor spilled through his mind as you tugged him down closer, pussy sucking him in the same. Pulling then pushing his cock by the full till the tip nearly slipped out then slamming in deeper. "Fuck yeah, feels good Mommy? I makin' you feel so good, huh?" He purred, dipping his head into the crook of your neck breath fanning right over your ears fuzzing out the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. "Oh fuuuck, Grippin' me like crazy, Mommy." 

Saliva doused into the crook of your neck, Bo sucking in the skin and lapping at it. Wanting to kiss you whole, fuck you full. Maybe fill you with another baby, because you've done so well with the first he's given you. Another time, though, right now all that swelled was his cock lodged deep into you and awe in his mind. 

You tossed your legs around his waist, shivers twisting the inside of your abdomen, Bo fucks good every time. His mouth is so much more lovable stuck on the sensitive inches of your flesh making out hickeys and love bruises rather pissy words. "Close! Mommy's s-so close!" You gasp, tugging him closer, close as can be so his body heat can burn you right, the way you deserved it. 

Feeling you pull him till bodies melded like molten wax, and your insides warming his cock, clenching in a steady increase, Bo hugged his arms around your waist. Pelvis slamming harder, quicker against yours, increased pace jackhammering your cunt. 

"Cum f'me. Come on, Cum for me, pretty Mama. Cum all over my cock Mommy," His voice mumbled in a strained groan, bordering a whimper, heavy breathed against the sticky spot he'd left into the corner of your neck and shoulder while he pushes you to climax.

Felt good to burn like this, to be loved by Bo. Your brain turned to mush and white stars of bliss flooded from your spasming cunt to your brain. "Fuck, Ohh yes! Cumming! Cumming!" Gripping his cock so tight he almost came right there and then, but graced himself while he plunged deep into you restlessly, riding out the onslaught of euphoria that burned your veins. 

You were fucked out, that much was certain, first orgasm hit hard, harder than any words he could beat you with. Already stressed out day, Bo fixing that for you, dutiful husband the such. Rolling his hips in slower motions as you calm down from your high, your thighs clamp around his hips feeling the sting of sex continue passed your orgasm.  

"Stay wimme Mommy, gimme one more, yeah?" Bo tilted his head, raising it so it hovered over your forehead, staying atop you with a lustful adoration in his eyes. He was lucky, that much was certain. Not much luck in his life, crazy dead daddy and mommy, favourite freak of a twin brother, got you though. He got himself the sweetest baby mama a man could ask for. That shit is the best luck if he'd ever felt it.

"One more, sweet Mommy, and I'll fuck ya full. Mhm?" He cooed, pressing his lips to yours and snapping his cock into you, regaining his previous pace as your pussy relaxed around him. Building his thrusts back into quickness while hugging you close, kissing you with love.

You warmed impossibly hot, like an unbridled flame. Clinging to him while he does to you, because you're his everything, because you're his wife, his mommy, his darling. "O-Oh, Oh god Mommy, gonna... Gonna-" Bo choked out, cock throbbing in you with each slap of his balls against your ass. body churning and tense fucking you quick as could be.

"Me too- Oh fuck!" You felt it coming harder than a tidal wave this time, Bo nearing his as well. Your eyes rolled behind your skull and Bo slammed his lips to yours again to shut his own pornish moans from spilling out, your pussy driving him to pure rapture.  

Ecstasy ran through you two's bodies and he delved his cock straight into you in a final thrust of needed high, balls tightening and spilling deep into you with strangled cries of pleasure filling your lips that parted his. Teeth clattering messily against each other while he rode out his high in your spasming pussy, you washing into the second state of bliss the night cumming hard around his cock.

Bo could be a horrid husband at times, but God be damned, was he a grateful one. So grateful, wanted to send you to heaven, and push you through it over and over. Hoping to keep the fire churning in you forever. 

But for now, his dick was spent. And his Mommy was already exhausted as be taking care of his kid all day, and also getting fucked stupid by him. He pulled out with a grunt and flopped to his side in the bed. "Supper would've been good, now." He mumbles in a snort, wrapping his loose-jointed arm around your waist and rubbing a hand over your bare curves.

"Don't even start.." You grumble softly, before letting out a soft giggle, the type that makes him go stupider than emptying his balls in you. A dumb grin overtook his face and he smiled at you, rolling slightly in the bed to face you. 

"Sorry, darlin'." Sorry's only happen after Bo fucked you, not after he yells, never after he scalds you with words. But you'll take it, if it meant getting dicked down by the best man in Ambrose. 

"It's okay." You reply in a soft sigh, nuzzling against him. His perfect Mommy.  

[banj0possum]

What does goth man look like 👁️👁️

whaT DO THE ZOMBIES LOOK LIKE???

this reminded me that i had a wip of the zombie horde in my procreate ghhghhhghgh but i want to give yall a little more than that so im also throwing in some headcannons and stuff from when they were alive &lt;3 <3 <3

💀 Ribs' hair is bleached blonde! It also has a faint smell of weed, hmm.

💀 Just as he is now, he was very hyper. He used to go to a lot of parties and raves. He was actually at a beach concert when he got infected.

💀 He reacts to rock music, if you play a song near him, he’ll turn to where the sound is coming from and go to it and hop around happily, it’s a good way to find him if you loose him in the mall.

💀 Screw looked like he was a scavenger like you before turning into a zombie, you found old cans of food and an almost empty flask of water in his bag amidst things he probably picked up, things he very much didn’t need anymore in his current state.

💀 He and Ribs found a pair of scissors in your drawers once and you came back to your bunker to Ribs cutting Screw’s hair. They both just stared at you with Screw’s hair all over the floor, that’s why his hair looks a bit choppy.

💀 He gets cold easily somehow so he clings onto you the most, the others are a little jealous..

💀 Soda has a lot of burn scars on his shoulder, you make it a point to not use fire around him as he chirped and cooed worryingly when you lit a match to warm some food.

💀 His hair is surprisingly soft, a bit dry but it isn’t as covered in blood and dirt like the others.

💀 his shirt is slightly in better shape than the rest of his clothes, he’s probably had to change it after a while.

💀 Bo looks like he’s lasted longer than the others considering his supposed military experience and a bandage present on his leg ever before finding him, he’s had in on for a while.

💀 The sides of his face are scratches and torn, revealing his teeth underneath, it makes it hard to chew sometimes but that’s why he focuses more on getting the others food more than himself.

💀 He’s a bit of an attention seeker so if you see him beekeeping the others in line or doing something good, please praise him, he’ll be so happy. The others tease him for it because he resembles a dog when he leans down for you to pat his head.

Anyway here’s your funny little zombos !! Hope you like how they turned out ! I promise to give y’all a proper drawing of goth next time too!

[diamondzart]

I know Toy Story 4 is not really loved by the masses, but I can’t help admitting that I’m that person who loves it just as much as the trilogy. I was really excited about it back in 2019 and even had a little bit of hyperfixation on it. I really adore the concept of lost toys who live on their own. As much as Woody’s choice in the end was unexpected, I think it opened big possibilities for post-canon ideas. Like this one! I decided to design his possible appearance after a couple of years of living outside with Bo. Description under the cut!

I noticed what was missing from those few fanarts on events after the end of Toy Story 4 that I found on the internet. Bo Peep is all so cool and fancy with her hook, raincoat and all sorts of useful thingies that she carries with her, and Woody is just clean and unscathed, as if he just yesterday got out of a dry and warm room. Naaah he wouldn’t stay like this for long 😆

Because what is lost toy’s life? Dirt, unforeseen damage and the need to periodically fight off stray animals. Moreover, we already know that Woody has a tendency to get into troubles. Moreover, he is a rag doll — that is, more than Bo is vulnerable to problems like unstable humidity, getting stuck somewhere with his limbs and getting attacked by cats / dogs / raccoons / whatever else they can encounter. He should become as hardcore as Bo after a couple of years, because otherwise there is no way to survive in this world.

The “raincoat” is of nylon, most likely cut out parts of an umbrella that someone conveniently lost in the park during stormy weather. The trick is that it’s waterproof, since when you are made out of natural fabric, it's important not to get wet as much as possible. Moreover, Woody is quite old, and he should be concerned about the condition of his fabric if he does not want to literally fall apart after a couple of years of such adventures.

The holster is used as a pocket for small things, here it’s used for matches and paper clips, which can be useful in different situations. For matches, a striking surface from a matchbox is attached to the outer side of the right boot. This will allow to quickly light a match by yanking a foot down while holding match to it and thus minimize extra full-body movements, which can be useful in an emergency situation. I think that this can be effective not only for lighting up spaces, but also for scaring away animals, especially small ones like rats.

The hook is a pencil and a fishhook with a broken tip, strapped with duct tape. Basically an analogue of Bo’s hook but made from improvised materials. As we have already seen in her example, it is an excellent utility for crossing various obstacles and, if necessary, for self-defense.

Stitches and scuffs. Both Bo Peep's arms were broken off and are taped back. That means, free living involves the regular risk of losing limbs. Even in an antique store, Woody got his foot stuck somewhere several times, which suggests that either himself or with the help of some stray animal he lost one or another limb and had to sew it back on his own or with Bo’s assistance. He will have to overcome his fear of being broken and accept this as a new part of his existence.

These were general notes on this sketch! Perhaps I will continue to develop this idea in order to find some new interesting solutions.

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝐵𝑒𝒹

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Warnings: nsfw, mdni, smutty headcanons, virginity mention, dirty talk, rough sex, just general nasty things

Michael Myers

Let’s be honest—this man was a virgin before you showed up

He was in a mental institution from a young age—not exactly the best place to fuck

Still, that certainly didn’t stop him

He picked up on what to do fast—it’s not all that difficult

Still, he definitely focused on himself

Whether or not you came was not his problem

You have to take matters into your own hands when it comes to that, using your fingers to work at your clit

Most of the time your body is jostled around to much to do so

He’s not gentle

Whatsoever

Things will be broken

The bed?

A bone?

Who knows

You have so so many marks

Bruises

Cuts

You always look like you fell through a wood chipper 

It’s not like you could reason with him, though

“Hey, can you, I don’t know, be gentle for once and not fuck me against a countertop?”

Yea, that would go over well

He gets. . . better. . . eventually

Still mostly selfish

But may rub against your clit as he’s pounding into you

By accident?

Unclear

Expect to walk with a permanent limp

RIP

Definitely into knife-play

So many shredded clothes

C’mon, what’d you expect?

The mask stays on during sex

Obviously

If he’s super comfortable he might pull it up enough to bite you

But don’t expect to catch a glimpse of his face

After-care? What’s that?

You clean yourself up 99% of the time

The only time he’s ever done anything was when you passed out during sex and woke up in your bed

Other than that, you don’t expect him to provide any cuddles 

He doesn’t even sleep in the same bed at night

Jason Voorhees

Tries his best to be so so so gentle with you

Also a virgin before you showed up

Not many people were lining up to fuck an undead monster haunting a summer camp

He’s. . . big. . . everywhere

It takes a while before you’re even able to take him properly

It’s not that you were unprepared, but at the slightest flinch of your face Jason would pause and refuse to touch you again for hours

You made sure to explain that you were fine and that you weren’t made of glass

But he was still petrified of hurting you

Still, when he finally calms enough to fully fuck you one night, you’re seeing stars

He’s slow and cautious, but eventually something lights a fire within him

Rubs his masked face into your neck apologetically as he rams into you

When you’re walking funny the next day he carries you everywhere

You don’t blame him for getting carried away sometimes, and even enjoy a little roughness more-often-than-not

He tries his best with after-care but is pretty clueless as what to do with you

When you’re exhausted and curled in on yourself he thinks he’s permanently hurt you

You tell him gently to run you a bath

Will attach himself to your hip and snuggle you until one of you is forced to get up

Nestles his masked nose against any marks he may have caused, letting out a low whimper

You run your hand down his back

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

Tries to make your pleasure his number one priority

Will listen intently as you bashfully explain what you want and like

Does as told

He’s a little rough, massive fingers toying with your clit hard enough to have you wincing

But eventually he gets the hang of it

Refuses to cum until you have

Even when you’re giving him head, he always has to be touching you in some way, getting you off just as much as your getting him off

Sometimes he can’t help himself and cums before you, only to let out a low whine of disappointment, like he was ashamed of himself

You’re never far behind, anyways

One of the most selfless lovers you’ve ever had

The fact he doesn't speak doesn't even cross your mind

He gets his points across fine with his actions and occasional low rumbles 

And you were never much for dirty talk, anyway 

Bo Sinclair

He’s a wild-card 

Some days he’s feeling generous enough to nestle his head between your legs, other days he’s got you gagging on his dick until can’t breathe

You’re unsure of what impacts his attitude, every night getting ready to expect something different

You supposed he had a lot of things happen in life, you couldn’t blame him for being a little hot-and-cold about things

Regardless of what’s happening, he’s got a lot to say about it

If he’s not growling in your ear, teasing you with dirty words as he rams into you, then he’s moaning loudly against your lips or neck

You don’t think he’s ever quiet for more than a few seconds

What he says varies, too

Some days it’s nothing but praise

“Whatta good girl you are. C’mon, sweetheart. You can do it. Almost there—there it is, darlin’. Don’t you look like a beauty chokin’ on my cock?” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Keep sayin’ my name. Feel good, huh? Don’t close those pretty lips of yours. I wanna hear ya when I fuck ya.” 

Other days he’s grabbing your ass harshly, scolding you for muffling your moans against his neck

“The fuck you think you’re doin’? You’re nothin’ but a whore, don’t try ‘nd be bashful now.”

“What a slut. Look how wet you are for me. Gettin’ off on the thought of me fuckin’ you, bitch?”

It’s enough to give you whiplash

Still, you can’t complain that it’s boring

And it’s not like you don’t get your own enjoyment out of it

Whether or not he lingers after he fucks you depends on nothing in particular

Sometimes he’ll pull you close and press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling praises in your ear as he caresses your body

Other times he’ll put his boxers back on and rest against the door frame, just staring at you as you clean yourself up

He never leaves without making sure you’re alright, though

No matter how rough he was with you he gently traces over your body, making sure nothing hurt to bad

Then he’s back to his cocky self, trying to pretend he didn’t just treat you like a princess

There’s always marks littering your neck and shoulders

The sight of them is enough to let any tourists know to fuck off

You tried to cover them once with a high collared shirt but it only ended with more hickies and bite marks, this time high enough on your neck that even a turtle neck couldn’t hide them

He’s possessive, always having an arm or hand around you when talking to strangers that come by

He’ll, even around his own brothers he’s like that

He’s always smacking your ass or planting a kiss to your lips, leaving you to yelp in surprise

This man has a breeding kink

That’s just the facts

The thing is, the idea of having a kid makes him gag

He’s not a fan of the little gremlins

But something about you—thighs wrapped around his hips as he cums into you—the fullness of your cunt—the slight bulge of your belly—always gets him going

Maybe it’s the distant idea of raising a half-normal family for once

For now, you stay on birth control

Vincent Sinclair

He’s extremely introverted and self-conscious

You have to be the one to initiate most things

Even then he’s unsure of himself

He’s afraid he’ll scare you somehow

The first time you two are intimate it’s simply soft touches, your lips trailing over his skin as your hands stroke at his dick

It’s not sex

It’s too soft for that

You hated to use the word love-making, but you supposed that’s what it was

After his confidence is built up enough to take control, he catches on fast

He has a niche for precise finger-work, given his work as a sculptor, and has you cumming on his hands more times than you can count

He keeps his mask on 99% of the time

You don’t force him to do otherwise

It’s his comfort object

As long as he’s happy, you’re happy

Still, there are times where he pulls it off, only to hide himself between your legs

The first time he ate you out, he insisted upon a blanket draped over your bottom half, but he’s past that now, knelt down in front of you, fingers clutched against your thighs as he pushes his tongue further inside of you

You make sure to praise him every time he makes you feel good—wanting him to know it was him getting you off

It definitely helped his self-esteem

He’s still distant when others are around, but you’ve gotten to the point where you can sit in his lap and play with his hair while Bo lounges on the couch

Bo still gives you two playful taunts, but he’s just happy his brother found someone

Though he really needs to invest in some ear-muffs if you keep up with the moaning at god-knows-how-late-at-night

*cough* waxplay *cough*

[stariikis]

a cruel summer with you...

synopsis ; you have always hated riki. he doesn't care about his grades and is only ever good at sports and dance. so why is it that he's gotten into the top class of the level? and why do you, for some reason, take an interest in him?

pairing ; sporty!nishimura riki x academic!reader genre ; one-sided rivalry to lovers, fluff, getting together, oneshot wc ; 2458 warnings ; light kissing

cruel summer, taylor swift

Every time you see the damned silhouette of Nishimura Riki down the hallway, adjacent to the grand doorway to the top class in the level, you start to physically convulse. There’s no end to the numerous ways he gets on your nerves. Maybe it’s the sly remarks he likes to make when he sees you stressing out over your grades. It could very well be the way he saunters into your classroom as if he’s one of the top students too. 

But no, all he has is being the well-known, all-rounded president of the dance club. His grades were decent enough for him to slip his way into the top class, and you have had a one-sided hatred towards him ever since. 

He parades around as if he’s the most popular boy in the whole school (he probably is), and every day without fail he’ll show up with a new racket, ball or the equipment of whatever his newest obsession is. However, what blows you off the most is the fact that, as your seatmate, he and his friends like to disturb you when you’re just trying to study. 

You would be pouring over your Biology textbooks, desperately trying to cram all sorts of structures into your head, and Riki would bring over his basketball friends. Jake and Heeseung, still in their dirt-scarred, rumpled jerseys, would tease you for just the hope of getting a perfect score for it. 

You could be buried deep in your self-made notes, trying to make sense of equations and funny symbols. Riki would stop Sunghoon on his way back to his seat, figure skates slung over his back before the famous skater’s practice. They would proceed to talk loudly about their plans for the next day. And all you could ever do would be to get out of your seat and leave. Of course, Riki never spared you a look as you left. Or that’s what you thought. 

Yang Jungwon and Kim Sunoo are two of Riki’s more bearable friends. They’re sweet and are close to some of your friends as well. But when they look over and shoot you glances that seem to have hidden messages you can’t decipher… you can only squirm uncomfortably.  

“Riki! Pay attention,” you scolded him one day before the Maths exam, pushing the textbook closer to him. He wouldn’t stop teasing you with insensitive jokes. Part of you wanted to storm up to your head teacher and beg for a seating plan change, but the other part of you was used to his insufferable antics. You just bore with the pain and tried to explain one more time. 

It was enough that you were spending precious time trying to tutor this hopeless boy, who could barely differentiate right from left if you asked him on the spot. But you also had to put up with everything you hated about him slowly turning into things that made you more than okay with his presence hovering over you like a guardian angel. 

The burning sensation of his eyes flickering upwards to look at you as you searched for the words to explain why 5x squared should be brought over to the other side of the equation. The oddly attractive way he clicked and unclicked his pen; a concentrated frown taking over his features as he hesitated to write his answer down. 

That was not all. You were trying to ignore the way his knee knocked slightly against yours as he turned back to his own desk with a short nod. Leaning over the worksheet-cluttered desk, he looked genuinely serious for once. It had been a long time since you saw him like this. Actually, it may have been your first time. 

His hair fell over his eyes as he continued to scribble over his textbook. 

Are you happy now? You asked yourself, as you watched him. He’s finally not trying to bother you, or distract you from your studies, or… 

He chewed on his lower lip, tilting his head to the side and staring at the question as if it would give him the answer he needed. At this, you shivered, because this side of Riki was so foreign to you. It was so unfamiliar that you did not feel comfortable. Because why would Riki, with a bunch of rowdy, carefree friends from his dance club, ever turn to a life of books? Even you, who broke down at the first glance of a C grade, had accepted that it’s a sad life. 

When Sunoo walked past your conjoined tables just a few minutes before the bell rang, he shot you a smug look. It sent a small shudder down your spine – something really was up that day. But as you did everything that happened in school, you ignored it and stood up promptly to lead the class in greeting the teachers. 

Now, although it’s an unknown concept to you, you and him are on the borderline definition of friends. You may have sworn deep inside your heart to hate him till the end of time, with his arrogant airs and his constant over-the-top quips. But beneath the careless exterior lays a young boy who just wants to appear older than he actually is. 

At eleven in the night, as you both burned the midnight oil studying for an exam the next day, he quietly confessed that more than anything, he just wanted to look cool. Like his Heeseung hyung who always seemed to ace anything he tried. Like his Jay hyung who was such an inspiration and influence to his style. Like his Jake, Sunghoon and Jungwon hyungs, who were pros in their own sports. Like his Sunoo hyung, who always knew just what to say and how to say it. 

And when you looked up from your messy notes, heart wrenching upon hearing these words coming from someone you hated for the longest time, you could only see hints of sadness dotting his eyes. 

The boy who had utterly ruined your first impression of him by bumping into you without apologising. In a haste to receive the football, he darted in front of you and had you sent to the nurse’s during your PE lesson. The next time you saw him after that was a shy peek of his head into the sick bay. The apology note he wrote was promptly torn up into a million pieces for the trash. 

This boy was struggling in his own ways. He wasn’t untidy and disorganised. He was trying his very hardest to manage all the pieces of work he had overdue and unfinished. The boy you believed used his popularity and luck to squeeze his way into the class. His hard work and efforts were and are still easily commendable. 

Perhaps it’s the reason why teachers are more lenient on him not submitting homework. Maybe it’s why they seem to give him special treatment after he returns from a competition, sometimes victorious and sometimes defeated. 

Today, it’s another late night call for both of your Chemistry exams tomorrow morning. On the other end of the call, Riki is silent – all you can hear are the scratches of graphite probably calculating some form of mass. You look up at your computer screen to check in on him, knowing that today he lost a match as the centre. It is probably the sportsman’s equivalent to failing a subject you normally excel at. 

A sigh leaves him every once in a while, and a hint of blue indicating sound coming from the call flickers in your periphery. At this rate, you can’t focus on your work. You’re scared to ask and at the same time you’re scared to stay quiet. 

“... Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, reaching out to adjust the volume. When Riki doesn’t answer for a few moments, your stomach twists into a knot so tight you feel like choking. 

“I’m fine,” he finally answers, quietly, so soft you can barely hear him. He doesn’t look up from his worksheets, but his shoulders remain slumped and he can’t even meet your eyes for a second. He’s clearly lying and as usual, going to cover it up with a jocular facade. 

“Oh my gosh, yn,” he mutters on cue, letting out a huff of forced laughter. “I think I’m going to fail if you don’t help me.” 

He’s trying to brush it off. You know. You’ve been in his shoes before, in a different situation and circumstance. And the feeling of being at the lowest of lowests is not a pleasant one. “Riki…”

The boy’s smile instantly fades and his gaze darts to the side. “Right. Sorry. Um, I didn’t play very well today.” 

There it is. “Let yourself have a break. You know that you’re doing your best, right?” 

Never in a million years would the you at the start of the year imagine that you would be uttering these words to your seatmate. Sincerely, and you truly mean it. You would never have thought your heart would ache to make his tattered and torn one whole. 

“Right.” With the weight of one word hanging over both your shoulders, you get the feeling that he has more to say that he ultimately never will. “Thanks.” 

You offer him a slight, sad smile in return. After a while of studying and comforting him, you shut off your lamp and bid him goodbye whilst telling him he probably needs to get some rest for tomorrow. The memory of him returning your smile boxily still lingers after you shut down your computer and leave your room. You hate him so much. You hate him for making you feel like you’re not alone in this world. You hate that you see yourself in him and that he makes you feel seen, validated, real…

The next day, you walk up to your seats at the back of the classroom. Surprisingly, Riki’s sitting there before you are, an unusual sight especially since he normally comes in hours late after games. He’s pouring over his own Chemistry notes, the first you’ve ever seen. His handwriting is messy in the pretty kind of way, lacing over the small pages. 

“Riki,” you call him softly, to get his attention. He looks up at you, eyes rounded cutely, and your heart does a small flutter. “Here, this is for you. Are you feeling better?” 

He blinks rapidly as you pull out a small goody bag filled with snacks and candies. And at the bottom, although he doesn’t see it yet, is a note that you’ve poured your heart and soul into. It sounds like a well-obscured confession, and maybe to him it may be, but it’s a thank you for being in my life. Thank you for being here even though I know you probably don’t want to.

Why does he look like he’s never been gifted anything before? His cheeks go red and he looks at you with the happiness of a toddler. Eyes shimmering in the dawn light, he grins. “Thank you.” 

For a moment, the empty classroom goes silent. With a quarter an hour to seven, your classmates are going to start coming in soon, to collectively mug and cry over Chemistry. So before that happens, you clap your hands and point at the bag. 

“Open it now! And read what’s inside!” You babble, taking a seat beside him. Your knees touch again, and he seems to be reading your whole face with his eyes alone, but the adrenaline has you fearless for once. 

He slowly begins to unfold the note you hid at the bottom, an uncertain and suspicious frown on his face. But underneath it, you just know his heart is beating as hard as yours is. As if the anticipation is contagious – or you’re simply an expert empath.

dear riki,

i hate you. 

yes, you read that right. i despise you with every fibre of my being. i can’t take your presence beside me in class, ticking me off with every smart remark you make in the middle of math. i can’t take the way you look at me with hopeless defeat or arrogant victory when you get back from any one of the many sports you play. i hate how talented you are, how cool you seem to me, how much you remind me of me when you tell me what’s on your mind. 

because i worked so hard to get into this class and worked so hard for a reputation of being the best student leader and the smartest girl in school. and you – you seemed not to work at all. you would walk into this classroom like you owned it. and i hated it. 

until i started to like it. 

i liked the way you smiled. i liked the way you teased me. i liked the way you rolled your eyes when you saw me fretting over physics yet again. what made me change my mind, you ask? well, a small glimpse into your life shows me you do work hard. you probably work twice as hard as i ever can and will. i like that. 

and as much as i never say it, i like you. 

When Riki’s eyes reach the bottom of the square-shaped paper, you see him start to tear like never before. It scares you to the core. You have never seen him so emotional. 

“You’re joking,” he laughs boyishly, running a hand through his hair and looking at you. Is this the first time you have seen his cheeks so rosy and vibrant, the first time you’ve seen his eyes squinted in such joy? “You are joking right now.”

“I’m not,” you smile back, “rea–” 

And he interrupts you by leaning in and kissing you, sweet and gentle and shy just like all the other times he’s ever interacted with you. He gets up from his seat and leans on the back of yours for support. You can feel his smile against your lips, genuine and real for the first time in forever. It feels new yet it feels like solace. 

“You’re the class president,” he whispers in the intimacy of both your gazes. So close yet so out of reach. His hands shake and he cradles the top of your head hesitantly. “and I’m the boy who does anything but study. Why me?”

You hum and shrug your shoulders. “You’re the sportiest boy I know, and all I ever do is study so I can be the top student. Right back at you.” 

The giggle Riki lets out before he leans in and kisses you again will remain forever engrained in your mind. 

“i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

thank you for reading! please please please do send me feedback and share your opinions! i would love to hear you guys in my asks n dms as well ;) have a good day everyone!

more of my works >

[glossykissies]

thinking about what reader i’d pair with soldier boy and it only feels right he gets handed spoiledbrat!reader. bratty, high maintenance, pouty. soldier boy might’ve been a god-like supe with damn near all the power in the world, but at the end of the day he was also a man… and you were packaged to him like a god damn fantasy.

it was so conflicting to him, you were simultaneously everything that got him off in a woman all while challenging his beliefs. feminine, soft, supple, pink and glittering — sure, but also you had the craziest attitude, you swore like a sailor and you were demanding. it made his fists clench, and dick swell.

the first time he’d been introduced to you with the boys, having found yourself wrapped up in their world — you were the only one in the room who he detected not an ounce of fear from. you. the little thing in the corner leaning on her hip, more interested in her nail bed than the banished supe.

immediately, and much to butchers irritation (he was pushed for time, and trying to stay on track here.) soldier boy focused his attention on you, taking a draw of his cigar from the couch in the hide-out apartment.

“and who’s this pretty little poodle? you fellas let a fan tag along?” his voice is smooth and rumbly like wheels on gravel and you raise a perfectly plucked brow.

“please.”

he hums out a chuckle, not hiding the way his eyes drag up and down your body. he was used to just taking what he wanted, his time being one of those things.

“so if we could just—” hughie steps forward cautiously, attempting to regain the supes attention to get things back on track but is immediately silenced by soldiers boy lifting a hand, eyes still on you.

“no really. what’s the deal with strip-club-barbie? i have met all of you cock suckers but she’s new. if she’s not a welcome gift, what the fuck is she doing in here listening in?”

“shes one of us.” butcher gruffs, shuffling in his chair, antsy to start explaining his diabolical plans.

“yeah? what’s her thing? you fellas passin’ her around in whatever fuck-dungeon you hole up in?” he teases, and before anyone can say anything — you’re defending yourself.

“jesus christ, get with the fucking times, old man.”

soldier boy smirks, and a tense silence falls over the room — half expecting to watch you get thrown through the thin walls of the apartment at record breaking speed. surprisingly, after he’d taken an amused and analytical gaze your way — he leisurely turned his attention back to butcher. “alright, out with this plan. don’t have all day.” he drawls, taking another drag. you roll your eyes at the fact he literally has nothing else to do, and you’re sure he notices.

most of your interactions went that way after that. soldier boy would make some kind of demeaning or misogynistic comment, you’d snap back, he’d either be amused or weakly threaten you. it was like clock work, but seem to put everyone on edge every single time.

there were many times the boys thought you were done for, hurling names and insults at him when he’d caused them more harm than good — only to have him stroll right past you, uninterested in your girly tantrum and not even struggling to totally ignore you. sometimes you would irritate him, only to get a “brats like you need to be put in their place. i’m warning you.” and maybe he’d smirk because he could just sense your little clit twitching.

there was even a time all of you had to pile into one car, getting away quickly after a mission gone south. you were the last in, and there were no seats left for you.

“just fuckin’ get in would ya?” billy commanded loudly, trying to keep an eye on the oncoming commotion. soldier boy smirks, completely suited up, damn near taking up two seats in the backseat and pats his thigh, spreading his legs.

“i am not sitting on him. someone get in the trunk.” you argue, crossing your arms all spoilt.

“just grab her!” hughie exasperates from the passenger seat, used to your ways. without hesitation, soldier boy yanks you into the car with ungodly strength, pulling the door shut as they drive off. you wriggle and fight until he’s got you situated — the mountain of a bulge pressed up against your panties beneath your skirt, legs spread a little on his lap.

you give him a sulky look over your shoulder, and despite the chaos in the front of the car — he’s utterly relaxed and unbothered by everything that just unfolded. in fact, he leans back with that same smirk — adjusting his hips, nudging the fat lips of your pussy open through your panties with his bulge. he watches your eyes nearly roll back like a baby-doll.

you turn back to the front, irritated and overstimulated, breathing all heavy and mad. never in all his years has he seen a woman fight against her urges like you were. he puts his hands on your hips and you dig your nails into his skin, sustaining no damage. you scratch harder, tearing and attacking him like a baby kitten and he gazes happily out the window, unmoved.

you try to chime into the conversation up front, try to stay tuned — but everytime butcher carelessly flies over a speed bump you’re being practically forcefully dry fucked by the supe. you’re sure he could even feel you leaving a wet patch — and surprisingly, when you all pile out the vehicle solider boy doesn’t bring it up. the gratification of flustering you enough to keep him happy.

the breaking point comes when you’re appointed to ‘babysit’ him back at the hiding apartment. literally no one else is free, but they need someone there to make sure he’s where he needs to be. there’s nothing you could do to stop him from leaving, but whilst he agreed to stay there — you were sticking around to make sure he keeps his word, strictly told to alert one of the boys if he exits.

“look, i’m sorry. i would take your place but i have to help annie.” hughie stresses apologetically as they walk you up to the building.

“i’ll be fine.” you roll your eyes, more irritated that you were missing your nail appointment for this shit.

“and keep that mouth in check, yeah? i don’t fancy scraping your intestines off the walls so keep a lid on it today.” butcher warns, sending you a look before you run off.

when you walk in, he’s chowing down on a burger. so american.

“well if it isn’t my favourite.” he drawls, more interested in the TV.

“whatever. i’m here to babysit you.” you sark, setting down your purse and rifling through it for your phone charger, spotting the pink wire tangled at the bottom of your bag.

“babysittin’ huh? you certainly had the sitting part down last time i saw you. maybe today we can work on the baby part.” he chuckles at his own joke, bringing the mouth of his beer bottle to his lips.

“shutup. you know i had no choice.” you don’t know why you get so defensive, strutting over to block his view of the television — staring down at the hulk of the man resting with his feet up.

“that why i could feel your little pussy throbbing? beggin’ me to help her out? christ, maybe if you got some dick you’d quit bitching all the time.”

maybe he was right.

it’s how you end up blubbering on your back with the backs of your knees in his huge hands.

“shit, maybe i’ve been missin’ a trick with this young pussy stuff. fuckin’ perfect.” his heavy cock brushes your folds as he stretches your legs up into a humiliating pose, not caring for your sniffles and angry pouts. he pushes your knees up higher with an intrigued smirk. “you’re flexible, huh? what, were you a cheerleader in high school or something?”

“are you gonna fuck me or what?” you whine, so needy and petulant that it makes him smile.

“you modern girls. no patience.” he slaps his cock on your folds and you flinch. “relax. only polite to knock before i enter, right?”

[slasher-fxcker]

Slashers S/O falling asleep on them

A/N: Just a quick little drabble of me fantasizing about our favourite slashers. I am still working through requests so please don't think I am ignoring you guys! They are coming :)

Billy Loomis

· Billy isn’t sure how to react at first, if you are around people sorry but he’s not going to tarnish his reputation with these soft moments. But if you're alone he will be conflicted.

· He’s not used to soft moments and he likes to be in control of any affection. He tries to keep it light like hand holding or sexual to try and keep you at a distance. So, this makes him sort of short circuit.

· Once he decides to allow it, it takes him a while but he does eventually relax into the embrace. He hates to admit that it is comforting, you make him feel secure and that worries him.

· He probably won’t sit for too long and may move eventually, he won’t disturb you but will leave you on the couch to rest.

Bo Sinclair

· Bo will never ever admit to this but he loves your soft affection, even if it’s only when you're asleep that he embraces it. He will pull you closer to him and wrap his arm around you. It’s the time he will let his guard down and let himself truly feel.

· If his brothers walk in he’s going to act like it’s a hassle, but even they know he doesn’t really mean it. Will also probably whine at you about it later.

· Bo loves you but he won’t admit that yet, even if you question it sometimes just know that you don’t get to see the way he looks at you like you're his world, or how your cute sleepy expression grips his heart. It’s these times where he thinks maybe he should be nicer to you, it’s now when he realises that he needs you even if he’s not ready to admit that.

Jason Voorhees

· Jason will not move a muscle if you fall asleep on him, you may as well be leaning on a comfier version of a statue. He wouldn’t do anything to wake you up.

· Barely breathes in fear or disturbing you. This man adores you and if you need sleep you're going to get it.

· If there are any trespassers he is going to be even more brutal than usual, how dare they disturb this intimate moment with his loved one. He lays you down as gently as he can, lucky you're a heavy sleeper.

· Jason will make quick work of the trespassers so he can get back to you, sure you may wake up with some leftover blood on you but it’s all worth it in the end to be in Jason’s arms.

Jesse Cromeans

· Jesse gets a small smirk on his face when he realises you’ve fallen asleep in his lap while he’s completing some paperwork. He will hold you while he works, occasionally stroking your hair and placing his chin on your head.

· You seem so small buried into his chest, it reminds Jesse how delicate you are and how protective he is of you to keep you here with him.

· Jesse is a busy man so its highly likely that he will end up having some sort of work that pulls him away from this intimate moment. He will carry you with ease to your bed and cover you in blankets to keep you warm until he can return.

· Won’t leave without placing the gentlest of kisses to your forehead and watching you snuggle in.

Lester Sinclair

· Lester is a busy man, he loves your affections but try to catch him when it won’t interfere with his day or piss Bo off. He will put your affections first and that can often get him in trouble with his brother.

· This man is the cutest cuddle bug, he will hold you for as long as you want. Will wrap you up in his arms and put a movie on, he is definitely the most chill out of the slashers when it comes to this kind of affection.

· Expect him to occasionally cover your face in soft kisses, the small smile it puts on your face gives him the cheesiest grin. Part of him wants you to hurry up and wake up so he can give you more affection, but don’t worry he wouldn’t dream of waking you.

· Lester cherishes you and when you wake up still in his arms expect to give him all of your attention for a while.

Michael Myers

· Do you like sleeping on the floor? Because that’s where you will end up if you fall asleep on Michael when he’s not in a very good mood. He’s an asshole. He does love you, but you don’t get to be affectionate without his approval when he’s in this kind of mood.

· If you catch him on a good day he will simply let you rest against him, most likely sitting still and watching you sleep.

· He thinks you're naïve to trust him when you're in such a vulnerable state, how he could hurt you at any moment. He likes to pretend that he could but you both know he would never do anything to hurt you. Not now that he had let you in.

· If you wake up to his head resting against yours as you both find comfort in the slight affection he will jump up and storm off as soon as he notices you're awake. Don’t bring it up unless you want him to pout for a while or threateningly glare at you from across the room. He will pretend it never happened.

Stu Macher

· Stu had always been a night owl, and it didn’t help he spent a lot of his nights out with Billy.

· You would wait up for him a lot at his place, flicking through the channels of the tv and waiting for that familiar click of the front door. He would instantly come and join you, arms open and waiting. He always missed touching and holding you.

· Would probably ramble on and not realise you were sleeping until he notices you aren’t answering him anymore. The cheesy smile this boy gets when he realises you're asleep.

· He will probably just watch you for a while, moving the hair out of your face.

· Stu is the type of guy to draw on people’s faces while they sleep, but with you he will just gently trace your features or draw small love hearts with his finger, laughing quietly to himself as your nose crinkles at the feeling.

· He wouldn’t move you, he loves holding you in his arms, keeping you close to him. Will for sure tease you about it later though.

Thomas Hewitt

· Thomas just melts when he feels your head rest against him. He knows how tiring it can be working in the heat, so he will let you rest for as long as you need to.

· He will blush if anyone else sees the two of you, but he’s still not moving.

· Thomas could hold you like this forever, but he worries that the couch isn’t the comfiest place to spend the night so he will carry you upstairs to your room, this man just wants what is best for you. He tries his best to be as gentle as possible when he lays you down, not wanting to wake you.

· He stands up to leave but notices you clinging to his shirt, the crinkle in your brow showing you're clearly not happy with the loss of contact. He lets out a husky huff before climbing into bed next to you, he melts under your touch and the thought that even in your sleep you need his touch.

Vincent Sinclair

· He stills immediately when he feels the contact. Vincent loves you so much but he’s not sure he will ever get used to the physical affections.

· When he realises you’ve fallen asleep on him his heart swells. You better believe this boy will not move an inch, your comfort is his entire priority. He will be dead still until you wake up, would not dream of disturbing you.

· Will definitely watch you sleep, he feels like he needs to commit every single line of your face to memory. Not only will he want to sketch you later on but the fear of you leaving still weighs heavily on him and he needs to make sure he would remember every detail of you.

· It’s like you can feel him staring when you shuffle closer to him and mumble his name, he instantly melts. He pulls you closer, reassuring you that he’s still there. He’s not going anywhere, he will always be there.