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flowerandblood · 5 months

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The Man in the Black Mask

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, assassination attempt, mention of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of murders ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

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* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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Her father, the King, only realised how many enemies he had after a man dared to attack her while she was strolling around the fair during one of her walks. He wanted to get closer to her and slipped a dagger out from behind his cloak − if it hadn't been for the woman selling fish and her shouting, she wouldn't have noticed him or the steel gleaming in his hand.

She did what any other person in her position would have done, which is to say, she screamed in terror, stepping back, bumping into a wooden makeshift table full of vegetables, which toppled over with her − the assassin gave up at the last moment, terrified by the sudden outbreak of panic, and disappeared among the crowd.

Some elderly man helped her up, the knights of her father's guard rode up on horseback, alarmed by these frightened noises. One of them, Ser Lucas, her father's friend from his youth and the great rebellion furrowed his brow as he saw her face.

"Princess?"

She wasn't sure if her father was more furious with her or with the man who had tried to attack her. He commented on her irresponsibility and disobedience, her recklessness, and expressed outrage that her guards had not even noticed how she had escaped them.

"I just wanted to see the fair, my King." She said in a trembling voice without looking at him; she stood before him with her hair loose, wearing a beautiful navy blue gown with sleeves that reached to the ground − her shoulders were bare, on her hips a delicate golden belt made up of tiny eyes in which sapphires were framed.

"That's enough." He said agitated and impatient, raising his hand in a gesture of frustration, his dark hair and beard adding to his seriousness, his brow furrowed in anger. "Until you learn prudence, one of my ghosts will not leave your side."

She looked at him, horrified, and then turned her gaze to the man standing beside him, a few steps behind his throne, his figure hidden completely in shadow. He was dressed all in black, a hood over his head and a black mask on which a single tear was outlined under his right eye.

It was said that it was molded so that the people they were killing would have the feeling that they had compassion for them, that they were just a tool used by someone else.

People called them ghosts because they weren't seen on a daily basis – or at least that's what it was believed. They were forbidden to take off their mask or speak to anyone but her father, and were his principal emissaries that found his enemies, invigilated them and killed them.

Since the days of the rebellion and the overthrow of the earlier king, her father was perpetually in fear of an attempt on his or his children's lives, so he found, she supposed, people desperate or fond of killing, those who owed him everything and had no reason to betray them.

She passed and saw them extremely rarely, only during sumptuous feasts in the company of guests or gatherings of magnates from all over the country.

They stood then by her father's side, as always in the shadows, though invisible, constantly reminding her of their presence with their very posture, menacing and stony, the people around them afraid to look at them.

She didn't know how many of them there were in total; they were almost identical and differed only in height, besides that they wore the same clothes, masks, hoods and black leather gloves, probably to avoid staining their skin with blood.

The thought that someone like that was to accompany and guard her sent shivers down her spine − she had feared that her father would now know of her every move, that she would never leave the fortress again.

She lowered her gaze, saying no more, listening to his orders to find the man who had attacked her, whom she had described in detail to the other ghosts.

She left, feeling that if she stayed there another moment she would vomit.

It seemed to her that these black hooded figures were sucking the life out of everyone around them, that they were a walking harbinger of death and misery.

That night she heard his voice for the first time.

Her guards were outraged when he dismissed them.

"You are not a King, by what right do you command us?" Asked one of them, a cold, deep, mocking voice answered them.

"Shall I inform the King that not only are you incapable of guarding his daughter, but you refuse to obey his orders?"

She heard someone's growl and an unclear voice full of impatience, the clack of steel and armour proving that they had walked away − she was left alone with the cold murderer outside her door.

She pressed her lips together, felt her eyes burning due to the gathering tears at the realization that she had never felt more alone and abandoned than she did now.

She wriggled in bed, as she did every day, unable to fall asleep. It was raining loudly outside and she looked towards the window, seeing nothing but darkness. She felt small and even though she was lying under several thick furs, she was cold.

She rose slowly, putting a soft cashmere shawl over her shoulders, lighting a candle that illuminated her chamber with a pleasant, warm glow.

There is a man behind that mask, she thought.

He was not a ghost.

If she made any kind of bond with him, she would stop being afraid of him.

She walked to her door and stood in front of it for a long moment, feeling her heart pounding hard and fast. She swallowed hard and opened it with a loud creak of old wood.

Her candle instantly illuminated his figure − he was standing exactly opposite her door, leaning against the wall with his hands clasped in front of him. She wondered if he was asleep in that position, but after a moment she noticed something behind the translucent black material in the area cut out for his eyes, a blue iris staring at her.

She looked at him for a moment, wondering if he would move, but he stood like a statue − it seemed to her as if he were made of stone.

Was he supposed to stand like that all the time?

Her father had told her that he would gift her his one ghost.

Would they be exchanging? After all, he had to sleep at some point.

"What's your name?" She asked uncertainly, softly, wanting to sound as open and honest as possible.

Silence.

A long one.

"How am I supposed to address you if I don't know what your name is?" She asked again, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to let her at least get a little closer to him, to be able to give him humanity.

Silence.

She pressed her lips together and thought something else would make him speak.

"Should I complain to the king about you not answering my questions?" She asked lowly, wrinkling her eyebrows, wondering where she had got the courage to speak to this man in this way. A shudder went through her when she heard him let out a breath, as if he had given up, resigned.

"Call me any name you see fit." He said in a low, deep, indifferent tone, as if the fact that he had to speak to her frustrated him incredibly and he didn't understand what she wanted from him.

She felt a tightening in her throat at the thought that there was no more human thing than being given a name − it was the first thing given to a child at birth, and he renounced it.

"Shall I name you?" She asked shaking her head, not understanding what he was implying − he turned his face to the side, despite the mask she could feel the growing impatience beating from him.

"Yes. My Princess." He added after a moment, his words razor-sharp, cool, angry, mocking. She had the impression that he treated her interest as something completely unnecessary − apparently it suited him to remain in the shadows and he had no intention of coming out of it.

She looked at him with pain mixed with disappointment and thought he reminded her of one of the horrific mythological beasts her mother had once read to her about before bed, a great mighty dragon that sowed death and destruction.

"Vhagar."

She heard the word she had spoken echoed, followed only by the sound of rain, and felt that there was something final in what she had done.

"I will always treat you with respect and I will never make you do anything to humiliate you or offend your good name." She choked out with difficulty, wanting him to understand that they were condemned to each other and that this in itself was a misfortune, however, it would be even more so if they both pretended that he didn't exist, that he was just her shadow that followed her everywhere.

He did not respond.

She closed herself back into her chamber only walking towards her bed feeling that her legs were trembling. She lay down on her bed covering herself with thick furs, frozen and terrified, closing her eyes, praying to the gods to show her mercy.

That they would not lock her away in this cold, stone fortress forever until her father claimed to have found a suitable candidate for her to marry.

As she did every day, she also prayed for someone else.

Someone who had lived in this chamber before her.

The next day she got up awake, a terrible headache accompanying her from the moment she opened her eyes. She sat down at the table, covering herself with her shawl − overnight the wood in her fireplace had burned out.

She lifted her gaze as she heard the door to her chamber open, her servants entering with golden trays on which they served her breakfast.

She saw Vhagar follow them inside, his hands entwined behind his back − it seemed to her that his footsteps made no sound, that he could sneak up on someone silently.

"You're supposed to taste everything first." He said to one of them dryly and emotionlessly − the girl looked at him apprehensively, clearly already knowing stories of men of his ilk and what they did.

"My Lord?" She choked out, clearly not understanding what he was asking her.

"Anything the Princess wants to eat or drink − you are to taste it first. This is how it will be from now on with everything you bring her. Do you understand?" He asked coolly and insistently, and she nodded, lowering her gaze, pale.

"Is this necessary, Vhagar?" She asked looking at him with a furrowed brow − he turned his face towards her but answered nothing. He looked back at her servant after a moment.

"Begin."

"I've lost my appetite. Take this away. You can eat it all, let it not go to waste." She said raising her hand, allowing them to leave turning her head to the side, looking blankly at her wardrobe standing on the other side of the chamber.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that he hadn't moved from his spot, that he was looking at her, his aura giving her shivers.

She knew he was about to say something.

"My Princess…" He started and she turned her face towards him. "…are you going to eat your meal, or do I have to shove it down your throat?"

She looked at him with huge eyes, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought with horror that he was mad.

"That is all, Vhagar. You may leave." She said in an unobjectionable voice, clasping her hands in her lap, trying to hide how much they were trembling.

He stared at her, his black tear-streaked mask seeming even more frightening and mocking to her, cold and lifeless.

"Mmm." He hummed, though it sounded more like a purr, bowed barely visibly and left her chamber.

She let out a loud breath, burying her face in her hands, feeling a desperate burbling in her stomach from hunger, thinking that she would not give him the satisfaction of letting him dominate her life, ordering her servants around, locking her in a cage.

She asked her servants to help her dress − she put on this time a light-coloured gown with a fine gold belt around her hips made up of tiny chains, some of her hair pinned back in a bun, some falling down her bare back, her sleeves reaching all the way to the ground.

She walked out of her chamber without looking at him, without telling him where she was going, hearing that he immediately moved to follow her.

Her shadow.

She saw the ladies of the court looking at her, terrified of who was accompanying her, as if she were being followed by death itself − people turned their faces away and froze in silence, not knowing what to do, how to react to this unwanted sight.

She headed for the main castle library hearing him enter behind her − he stopped at the door when it slammed behind them, standing in front of it with his hands folded behind his back.

She was starving and decided to distract her mind with some reading. She picked up a few books on the history of her kingdom, sitting down at one of the large oak tables right by the window to get more light. She opened one of the books in front of her, looking for the chapter that interested her.

"You may sit down, Vhagar." She said dispassionately, not wanting him to think she expected him to stand there like some stone pillar, but he didn't move from his place.

An hour passed before he spoke to her, snapping her out of her reverie.

"You need to eat." He communicated a little more softly than before − she felt him looking at her, but she did not lift her gaze to him, uninterested.

"My servants will not taste my food. You yourself watch the cooks and what they put on my platters." She replied with reserve, answered by a long silence.

"Very well."

She looked up at him, sighing quietly, his face turned towards her − she knew what was the reason for his impatience, what he was afraid of.

What would the King think if it turned out that under his watch she had begun to refuse food and starve herself? How would that reflect on him as her protector?

She rose from her seat, putting her books slowly back on the shelf, returning to her chamber without changing another word with him.

As she sat down to supper with her father, her younger brother, and his closest associates, the King immediately asked her what she thought of her new sworn protector, who stood behind her chair right next to the wall, as usual, hidden completely in the shadows.

She swallowed loudly a piece of the roast she had just had in her mouth, noticing with a kind of discomfort that her father spoke of him as if he had given her a thing, not a man.

"Thank you, Father, I do indeed feel safer in his presence." She lied, clutching the wine cup in her hand and taking a loud sip from it, wanting to end the subject quickly.

The King nodded, looking impatiently to his confidant secretary, a companion to all the major battles won during the rebellion.

"Has Prince Aemond's body been found at last? It's been eight years, for goodness sake." He said sternly, impatient; as far as she understood, only his body of the entire Targaryen family had not been found after the great massacre that had taken place in the fortress where they were now feasting.

Lord Ronan grunted loudly, shifting in his seat, blinking rapidly as if thinking of what to answer.

"We are getting closer, my King. We're searching the city's underground, likely to find his corpse soon. The cut of the sword fell right on his face, he couldn't have survived that." He said with a certainty that was filled with the need to sound as convincing as possible, which did not escape her or her father attention.

She lowered her gaze, setting down her cup with a loud clang of metal on the wooden tabletop, looking down at her plate, losing her appetite completely.

The entire royal family slaughtered in their beds after her father at the head of the army stormed into the fortress, elected by the people to rule after the inept reign of King Viserys.

"With apologies, I will retire to my chamber. My King. My Prince. My Lords." She said bowing in turn and moved ahead, not waiting for her father's permission − she heard rustling behind her, she knew her ghost had not left her side.

They walked in silence through the dark corridors of the fortress illuminated only by the warm light of torches − she knew the way to her chamber by heart. Her mind, however, was elsewhere, wondering what would happen if Prince Aemond lived.

If he came in with his army and slit their throats as her father had done to his family.

She stood in front of the door to her chamber, glancing up at his tall black figure towering over her like a cold shadow.

"Thank you for your devotion, Vhagar. Rest now." She said turning her head and opened the door, but stood in half step, surprised to hear his voice behind her.

"How does it feel to sleep where she slept?" He asked with a kind of excitement, as if the thought of it gave him satisfaction.

She felt her heart start pounding like mad, a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Princess Helaena bleeding to death in the bed she was now sleeping in.

She looked up at him − in the light of the torch she could see through the black fabric his blue irises, his pupil looking at her in such a way that she had the impression that he was a predator who was looking at his prey, whose entrails he was about to tear apart.

She was silent for a long moment.

"Horrible." She said dispassionately lowering her gaze.

"I imagine her lying in my place and all I can think about is that the same thing will happen to me one day." She muttered, feeling his heavy gaze on her − there was some kind of tension between them, though she didn't know why. "I pray every day for her forgiveness."

"Ghosts do not forgive." He said coldly, as if stating some foreboding, indisputable fact − she looked at him with a pained expression, furrowing her brow.

"What else can I do?" She asked in a trembling voice, but got no answer, his black mask with a tear running down his cheek looked at her indifferently.

"Sleep well, Princess."

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Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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spookychick78 · 6 months

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Wanna Be Yours

Peepaw Myers X GN!Reader

Word Count: 6,558

⚠️Warnings: NSFW (18+, MDNI), choking, dubious consent, rough sex Michael himself is a warning, proofread but I'm human⚠️

Figured it was time I take on the old man. There's not nearly enough fanfiction out there for Peepaw. Is it over 6k? Yes. Is it self indulgent? Probably. Is it smut? Eventually.(there's some serious plot leading up) Needlessly romantic? Absolutely.

You stretched your arms out while simultaneously releasing yet another yawn. This was night two of staying up far later than planned, but insomnia had an unrelenting hold on you. Finally, it seemed it was losing its battle. Your eyes were heavy, your body the same as your yawns followed one after the other. A glass of water was all you needed, then you'd call it a night. You enjoyed the soft thud your feet made on the wooden floors, the usual pitter pattering muffled by a pair of fluffy socks you'd dawned. However, you were regretting your decision in not throwing on that pair of sweatpants before you came downstairs, it was rigidly cold, even indoors that night. Your oversized hoodie did little to protect you from the chill in the air.

You opened a cabinet, grabbed the first cup your hand landed on and brought it over to the filter in the sink. A sigh escaped you as you watched the little stream take it's sweet time filling it. Your foot had just begun to tap impatiently, it was so close to being filled, when a loud thump on the side door startled you. You dropped the cup, thankful that it landed in the sink, saving you from any mess. From where you stood, you couldn't see any movement out the little window on the door. You briefly regretted your decision not to turn on any lights as you stared, frozen in place waiting for any indication that someone was there. After a few moment's silence, the tightness in your chest dissipated and you let out the breath you'd been holding. Probably just a cat, you thought to yourself before you turned, foregoing your drink to retreat to the comfort of your room sooner rather than later. You hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs when yet another thud stopped you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Your breath hitched and without thinking, you turned to scurry back downstairs, completely defenseless. In the shadows, you could just barely make out a figure. The only thing that was clearly visible, due to the faint gleam of moonlight, was his masked face. It was white, or it had been at some point and the eyes were two pitch black voids that seemed to be focused on the floor underneath his boots. As your eyes adjusted, you could make out a few more details, some that explained why he simply just stood there; he was injured. His hand, which was missing a couple of fingers and poorly bandaged, rested on his abdomen, clutching a wound that was still bleeding. His other hand seemed to be in just as bad a state, he'd broke the glass window with it to open the door from inside, rendering it bloodied as well. As he shakily lifted his head, those dark voids refocused their attention on you. You drew an uneasy breath, fearful of what he might do now that he'd discovered your presence. It felt like an eternity under his black gaze with only the sound of his uneven and ragged breath to break the dense silence that had settled in your kitchen, but finally something gave. He collapsed, you however stayed put for a moment more, unsure of what exactly you should do. The fact that he had a mask on wasn't entirely strange, it was Halloween after all, but he did break into your house. Perhaps he needed help? You could only hope that was his intention and he hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen, so with immense hesitation, you approached him. 'Intimidating' described him perfectly, even as he lay unconscious and face first on the ground. He wasn't a small man, not in the slightest. He must have been well over six feet tall from what you surmised, which meant he wouldn't be easy to move, but if you wanted to inspect his wounds you'd have to find a way. You tentatively placed a hand on his back, because if you were being honest, you weren't quite sure if he was even alive. He was, the soft whistle of breath through that mask of his and the subtle way his back rose and fell which each weak one he took confirmed that much.

"Fuck," you whispered as you contemplated how exactly you were going to turn him over, "you're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

You put all your strength into it and, after dropping him a few times, you managed to flip him over, "Sorry," you muttered after he'd landed on his back harder than expected.

You resisted the urge to study the face hidden behind the mask and focused your attention on his injuries, which were worse than you'd previously thought. Blood had turned the blue cloth he wore blacker than the eyes of his mask. You carefully pulled some of the fabric back to discover it was bullets than had torn through him. You winced at the sight, it wasn't something you'd be able to help much with, but you intended to do your best after at least calling for an ambulance. With that thought in mind, you stood to retrieve the first aid kit you never thought you'd have a use for and your cellphone. You wondered if he'd disappear while you had your back turned, half hoping he was simply a figment of your tired imagination, but when you returned he was still there and real as ever. You quickly dialed the emergency line, deciding to leave out the part that painted him as an intruder. You were still intent on not assuming the worst and he needed help, or so you thought. Once you hung up, you knelt down beside him again and carefully unzipped the coveralls he wore. You cursed yourself for blushing at the sight of his bare chest. He was older, the small patch of gray hair made that clear, but he didn't lack for definition despite his age. He was unreasonably built, something you fought to ignore but ultimately failed, hence the heat that had risen to your face. You gently pressed the rag to his wound and heard his breath falter at the sudden pressure, but he remained still as you cleaned him. You couldn't quite tell if he was awake, it didn't seem to matter how intently you studied those black holes, you couldn't see anything behind them to determine consciousness. But he was conscious and beyond disturbed at the predicament he found himself in, so much so that he hadn't a clue of what to do other than observe.

After you set the rag down, that mask had your full attention. The more you studied it, the more intrigued you became. It looked familiar, but you couldn't quite figure out why. You searched silently for a reason to justify what you were about to do as your hand moved closer to its edge. It would be easier for him to breathe without it on, you thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the rubber, but the moment you started to pull on it, his hand flew up to grab yours. He sat up, but doubled over as soon as he did and his grip on your wrist tightened.

"No- I'm sorry. Don't move, okay? You're hurt," you said, stumbling over your words as he flinched away from your other hand that went to his shoulder to steady him, "I just thought it'd be easier to breathe without it."

Michael's consciousness was an effort to keep, but he was aware enough to have heard what you said and it left him more than confused. The house had been so dark, he assumed it was empty, a safe place for him to rest while he waited for his strength to return. He didn't expect to find you standing there and when he did he had every intention to slaughter you, but the bullets Laurie had put in him had stripped him of that opportunity. His head whipped around for his knife while you watched, assuming he was just confused and unaware of where exactly he'd passed out.

"An ambulance should be here soon. I got you cleaned up, but you're gonna need more help than I can offer," you said, forcing his attention back to you, "you should rest though, until they get here."

Without hesitation, he shot up, entirely ignoring your suggestion and the throbbing pain in his abdomen, "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?"

Your words had little effect on him, which you soon learned as you watched him stride towards the door he'd entered from. You quickly followed behind, baffling him further. Usually, it was him who did the chasing.

"You can wait here, you don't have to-"

Naive, he thought to himself. Naive and completely out of your depth is what he made of you, but perhaps that kindness you'd shown a monster like himself was exactly what had saved your life, for now at least. He had no choice but to leave you, he'd had more than enough run ins with the authorities for one Halloween night and he knew they'd arrive any minute. He found his knife by the door and bent down to retrieve it, which was what stopped any further words from leaving your mouth. Your abrupt silence gave him pause and he turned his head slightly to find the horror of realization painted on your face. Your eyes were focused on the blade in his hand that had been decorated in red. The moonlight allowed its gleam to inform you that it was no prop, it was as real as your own blood that had run cold in your veins. It was your breath that was shaky now.

"Who are you?" You whispered.

He left you without an answer and that was weeks ago. Wondering was exactly what Michael wanted you to do and unbeknownst to you, you played along so nicely. He hadn't gone far, in fact he'd returned several times to catch you immersing yourself in his story. The night he met you, you never slept. You sat in bed with a blanked wrapped tightly around you as you listened to the details of what the man who'd broken into your home had done, of what he was. The answers you received from headlines only raised more confusion within yourself, because your name wasn't on his long list of victims. He spared you and that fact had you torn. Part of you wanted to let it go, be grateful that the shadow of death had so kindly passed over you, but there was another part that desperately wanted to know why. That part of you brought on more questions, but ones about yourself, more specifically, your own self preservation, because you wanted him to return. Sure, maybe it was simply time that was to blame, you'd called the authorities and he was a killer. He had to flee to avoid capture, but they still hadn't gotten him, he was still loose and he hadn't come back to finish you off. From what you'd learned, no one crossed Michael Myers' path and lived to tell the tale, you were alone in that. You were the first he'd left completely unscathed and unattended to, or so you thought. But Michael hadn't left you alone, not at all. He kept quite a close eye on you and with questions of his own, because in leaving you alive to wonder, he'd confused himself. The more he studied you, the worse it got. At first, it was a game, the same one he always played. The kill was always more satisfying when he had a bit of history on the subject at hand, but learning about you had become problematic. He never waited this long to strike, but you had made him hesitate. Somehow, you'd gotten to him and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the memory of you touching him. Perhaps it was because no one had before, not so gently. They'd certainly never apologized for hurting him as you had when you tended to his wounds. You cared about his well-being, it mattered to you that night. Enough so that you went out of your way to save him. He would have survived without your assistance, but it was the thought that counted, you thought about him in a way that no one ever had before. Now, you searched for him, unabashedly. He knew you weren't just gazing out of your window for the sake of it, you wanted to find him. He wondered if you a had a sixth sense, because he was always there, hidden in the shadows your eyes wandered to after the street lights turned on. You'd even begun to leave it open once you'd gone to bed, something that really piqued his curiosity. What would you do if he found his way in, what would you do if he gave you what you wanted and showed himself? Would you run or would he find himself in a situation in which he was the one who was out of his depth? Michael had gone his entire adult life without worrying about such things and he hated that finally, he'd been caught in such a trap. He wanted to hate you for it, but when you appeared in your window again and locked eyes with him in the darkness without even knowing it, he couldn't. He wanted to find one, just one single flaw that he could latch onto, but he couldn't and it ate at him. You were perfect, infuriatingly so. The way you moved haunted him in the most unexpected of ways and you were so young, so full of life that he should have wanted to drain, but death was so far removed from what he wanted to give you. His brow furrowed underneath his tattered mask as he contemplated it, because in truth, he hadn't a clue what exactly it was he wanted from you, he just knew it was you that he wanted and it was driving him to madness, to discomfort he'd never felt in all his life.

You disappeared from his view, retreating into shadows yourself once you decided he wasn't there. That was when he began to move unconsciously towards the door he'd entered through before. His heart pounded within his chest as he drew closer, unsure of what he would do once he was face to face with you again, but he needed to be, there was no question about that any longer. More than that, he needed to know what you would do, if you were different from the rest and if you could give him rest from the turmoil you'd caused within his mind, body and if he had one, soul. The house was dark, just as it had been the first time he arrived, only now, the door was unlocked. An invitation, he thought to himself with further intrigue. You did want him there, you must have, because who in their right mind left their house open for entry with a killer on the loose? He ought to teach you a lesson, but then again, no one was more of a threat than he was and he didn't intend to leave you unattended. If you wanted to leave your doors unlocked, so be it, but he would be your only visitor if he got his way and really, didn't he always?

His hand glided along the kitchen counter as he steadily made his way to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to study the stream of light that bathed the blackened hallway above in an eerie orange glow. His head tilted when it went out, leaving you entrapped in darkness. The sixth sense he suspected you had only became more prominent, he breathed easier without light to touch him and you had turned it off. Further invitation, of course, so he took the first step, then another. The faint creak of the wooden boards didn't seem to alert you to his presence, the light stayed absent and he appeared in your doorway to find you settled in bed. Sleep hadn't found you yet, but he had and you stirred when you felt the unease brought about by an unknown gaze lingering on your body. At first, the shadows all but consumed him, then his figure became clearly visible. Just an outline, tall and broad, but you recognized him.

Slowly, you propped yourself up with eyes that were wide open. You wanted this, but now he was here and you hadn't a clue of what to do, or what he would do. Words escaped you, but you didn't fear his silence this time nor the deafening hum that sat heavily between the two of you. It was energy, an unspoken desire to be near to each other was what it was, you knew that now without a doubt in your mind. He'd come back, just as you hoped he would, but for what purpose and why was it you had wanted him to?

Your legs slid off the side of the bed until your bare toes met the cold wooden floor below. He'd yet to move, so you tested the limits of what he would allow. His eyes, unseen, studied those carefully made movements closely. There was no distance to dull your actions anymore and he soaked each one in as he watched you stand, fascinated. He didn't have to hear it to know your heart was racing within your much smaller frame, you were prey approaching a predator, but it wasn't fear he found in your curious eyes, it was awe. As if he was just as unreal to you as you were him. His head lowered with his gaze, because now you truly were face to face. Your neck in turn craned up as you listened to that familiar whistle of breath through his mask.

"Michael," you whispered up at him.

He rushed forward so abruptly you didn't even have time to scream. He backed you against the wall, but didn't touch you, not right away. He simply stood there, shoulders heaving, head down in front of you. His breath was uneven and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides as if it was an arduous struggle to withhold himself.

But from what? You thought as you stood there silently searching for the answer you'd clearly die to retrieve. He didn't have his knife, at least not within his grasp or reach. His hands were his only weapons and he hadn't even used those on you, not in the way you had expected. Your hands remained at your side, unmoving and his gaze dipped to one. His breath evened as he studied it contemplatively, his shoulders stilled and he seemed puzzled, or so you assumed. Hesitantly, he reached for one. His fingers grazed your skin, slowly grappling for more purchase. Finally, he hooked one of them with yours and brought it to the other. He brought it up and you watched, confused as he traced the lines on your palm that were visible to him in the moonlight. The cool glow even allowed you to catch a glimpse of those eyes you'd searched for the last time he was in your home. One was an eerie, milky white, left without sight from one of the many wounds he'd gathered throughout the years. The other was the lightest of blue, icy in color, but there was warmth hidden somewhere inside that fought through as he allowed himself to fall prey to your touch once more. It was his choice this time, he was very aware as he pressed his palm to yours. Delicate and dangerous were the only two words that came to Michael's mind, because though you couldn't overpower him physically, he felt weakened in ways more damning than bodily wounds.

"Why are you here?"

Your whispered words did little to distract him from the dilemma he held in his hands. If anything, he should have been asking you that question. Why were you stillhere, allowing him to dive further into obsession, destroying everything he knew to be true about himself with just the tips of your fingers? It was cruel and unjust that someone like yourself, someone so small and seemingly insignificant held such power over him. It was infuriating, maddening and he wondered if you knew as his eyes met yours only to melt further. You didn't look away, no, instead you matched his intensity with brows that were furrowed in curiosity. That uncomfortable pounding in his chest returned and what he could only assume was rage forced his breath to quicken again, but then you intertwined your fingers with his, which made everything stop all at once.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The answer to that question was what frightened him most. Without warning, he ripped his hand from yours along with his gaze and turned to disappear down the hallway. It was an unforgivable mistake on his part to return to you, that much was certain, because no, he wasn't going to kill you. In fact, the encounter hadn't given him a single answer as to what he wanted with you, it only worsened his confusion and brought about doubt of himself. Perhaps he did have a weakness, a living, breathing one. He needed to escape it, kill whatever it was inside of him that betrayed him so wickedly. Your footsteps behind him made him grit his teeth as he strode through the door he'd left open to leave you to the night, but your hand found his wrist before he could vanish.

"Wait," you demanded.

The sudden and unwelcome contact forced his instinct back to the surface and before you could blink, you were forced back into your kitchen with a hand around your neck. The wind was knocked out of you when your back hit the counter and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid that perhaps you'd finally crossed that thin line you'd been treading on since the moment you met him, but his grip didn't tighten. He watched you brace yourself and in turn, crumbled at the sight. Prey, he thought to himself, you were supposed to look just as you were with his hand around your throat. You were supposed to be frightened, you were supposed to beg for your life and yet, when your trembling hands met his wrist, it was the last thing he wanted you to do. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear you beg, he did, but he wasn't quite sure what for as he had you pinned with his own body pressed against you. He'd seen this dance before, but it wasn't one he ever bothered to learn. Human touch such as this for Michael only ended death, he'd never been forced to consider any other use for his hands. He thought back to his own worries earlier that night and realized he was indeed out of his depth, just as he was afraid he would be. He had you exactly where he wanted you, but what now? His head canted to the side as he watched your chest rise and fall in quick succession. Your eyes were still glued shut, anticipating death, but death had a different idea. The safety of darkness still surrounded the two of you and with your eyes refusing to open, Michael lifted his mask up. You felt his fingers brush your jaw and inch their way into your hair to hold the back of you head, then you felt something else. A kiss was what he gave you, gentle and inexperienced, but in his softness you received the answer you'd searched so diligently for. He lingered there for a moment, stunned by his own actions and more so when you returned them. You kept your hands on his wrist and kept them still, aware that this was his limit, this was all he could handle for the time being, but you guided him in your wordless response. Your lips pressed firmer against him, you moved slowly, but deepened it with each press. His hand began to tangle in your locks, clenching as his mind screamed for release, for violence. It was an effort to fight off those instincts, but he did so valiantly just for a few more moments of this, of softness, of you. You carefully lifted your hand to place it over his, which still rested at the back of your head, fingers knitted tightly in your hair. He relented, just slightly, but when you let out that soft sigh, it was too much. It was too intimate and just like that, his lips left you as did his hand. When you opened your eyes you were alone, as if his touch had simply been a dream all along. The only evidence of reality was the door, which he'd left ajar to leave you with nothing but the sound of wind to fill his absence.

Questions were what he'd left the first time, but now, it was frustration that consumed you in his wake. You'd gotten an answer, in a sense. He didn't want to kill you, he wanted you and you kept it safely hidden within the walls of your pericardium that he wasn't alone in his desire. He left you wanting, wishing and waiting for a killer to return and finish what he'd started, for him to claim you as his own. The mere thought had you unraveling, because what on earth was wrong with you? Why had you allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? Why did you kiss him? More importantly, why did you love every second of it? His lack of experience hadn't dulled the sensations he forced upon you, if anything it enhanced them. Haddonfield's reaper had chosen you and spared you the scythe for a kiss, one you couldn't seem to stop from popping into your mind at the most inconvenient times. It haunted you and it stripped you of each and every one of the morals you thought you'd had, based on one simple fact; you wanted more. However, this time months passed and you were forced to find ways to pluck him from your mind, which meant when a coworker called you up to ask if you'd like to go to dinner, you said yes. Of course, putting an end to the fantasy of Michael wasn't quite as simple as it sounded. Dinner was spent with your head on a swivel, half paranoid he'd find you and be less than pleased, half hoping he would and save you from the drab conversation you'd allowed yourself to endure for the sake of distraction. You were right to think he'd be watching and safe to say 'less than pleased' was an understatement. Jealousy was something Michael wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. In fact, he was convinced he really was starting to hate you for bringing so many emotions he didn't understand to the surface. Torture was clearly what you intended to put him through, but that was something he was well versed in and as he watched you kiss your date goodnight, he made a decision. You were indeed going to learn your lesson and if it ended in death, well, that would be your price for causing him such agony, because he didn't expect to behave gently after watching someone else's hands, someone else's lips touch what was his.

You kept your smile in place as you politely waved goodbye, but once the taillights disappeared you allowed it to fall with a groan and quickly wiped your mouth. Your date's enthusiasm for you was beyond unreciprocated, but you'd play the part well, perhaps too well. Hopefully he wouldn't call, you thought to yourself as you strolled up the walkway to your front door. You let out a sigh when you realized you'd forgotten to leave the porch light on and you had about a million keys to sift through in total darkness, of course. To make an already annoying night worse, you tripped. You managed to catch yourself, but the keys hadn't been so lucky. You bent down to retrieve them, cursing under your breath as you stood back up. You fumbled with them a moment more before finally pushing the key into the lock, but that was about as far as you got. You hadn't even heard footsteps to alert you to his presence, but suddenly, you found yourself pushed face first against the door and before you could let out a scream, a hand covered your mouth. It was familiar, the missing fingers were a dead give away. His other went to yours and forced you to turn the key. Why he'd even bothered unlocking it was a mystery, because he promptly turned you around and threw you over his shoulder before he broke the door open with brute force. Struggling was no use, he had a vice grip on your hips as he strode through the threshold with purposeful steps only to drop you on the counter.

"What the hell is your deal with me?" You spat out before you could stop yourself.

But before you even had time to regret your choice in tone, his hand was around your neck. That gentle grip he once had was lost and replaced with a menacing one that took your breath away. Your hands wrapped around his wrist with rage of your own at this cat and mouse game he was playing with you.

"M-Michael," you stuttered out with a pained expression, "whatever you're gonna do, just do it already."

You worried you'd come to regret that statement when he pushed you back on the cool marble with such force it made your head spin. His hand momentarily abandoned it's hold on you and you pushed yourself up just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. The blue you'd once seen in his left one had turned dark, his pupil was overblown to erase any color, but it wasn't death you saw in that eerie gleam. Far from it. A different instinct had taken over and he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He quickly reached behind you and brandished a knife from the block on your counter. His movement's were hurried, frantic even as he tugged you forward by your hips so his waist rested between your legs. Then, he raised the knife up and you braced yourself. You must have mistaken that darkness in his eyes, it must have been bloodlust, you thought to yourself, but when he plunged it down it wasn't your flesh that tore. He'd taken it to your jeans, cutting them just enough so that when he tossed the knife behind you and grabbed each side of the fabric with his hands, he was able to rip them clean off of you. He didn't need the blade to remove the rest and now you were almost entirely exposed to him, save the top you silently resented him for destroying next. It looked expensive, Michael thought with a smirk behind his mask, but it looked much better torn to pieces. He was almost as unkind to his own clothes, he tugged the zipper of his coveralls down with such force the metal came loose and fell to the floor, leaving him free of any further confinement. You didn't even have time to glance down before he tossed on of your legs over his shoulder, pushed the other one to the side and plunged into you so deeply you feared you'd be ripped in two, just like your jeans. He allowed you no time to adjust, or catch your breath before he set an inhuman pace, one arm wrapped tightly around the leg over his shoulder and the other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood with his fingernails. He was silent, frighteningly so, while you failed to do the same. In fact, it seemed he was hell bent on making you scream, because once he found one particular spot that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, he never left it. He managed to hit it each and every time he pushed into you and he relished in those gasps that quickly turned to wanton cries. Pain mingled with pleasure in a dizzying manner and you tried desperately to reach for him, to find anything to steady yourself on, but it was useless. He wanted to see you struggle and you were doing it perfectly, but if you wanted stability, he'd allow some. He stopped abruptly, bottoming out and drawing a pitiful whine from your open mouth so he could hook his fingers over your bottom teeth. With his thumb under your chin and his index and middle lodged in your mouth, he pulled you up by your jaw, the pain dulled by the overwhelming pleasure he'd pummeled your nearly limp body with. He brought you close, your half lidded eyes struggled to stay open as he lifted the bottom half of his mask up with his other hand and pressed his lips to your ear.

"Mine," he growled, low and harshly.

His breath fell hot over your bare neck, causing the ache between your legs to peak, begging for him to continue, but instead of giving you what you wanted right away, he pulled back and left you empty to readjust his mask. You whined, reaching for him before he grabbed your shoulders and turned you. He bent you over the counter and forced himself back inside of you while his hand snaked around your throat. He lifted you back up so that your back was pressed hard against his chest and the mouth of his mask was back at your ear.

"Say it," he breathed as he thrusted forward, slow but forceful.

You'd barely registered that he'd spoken the first time and now, with him buried so deeply inside of you, your cognizance was long gone. Each time he moved he seemed to go deeper, fully aware of the torture he was delivering in forcing you to hang on the edge of your orgasm. He could feel your body tensing around him, he knew you were dangerously close. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you struggled to form the response he desired.

"Yours," you whispered, but that didn't seem to satisfy him.

He thrusted harder, driving your body upwards. When your hand went to steady yourself on the counter, he grabbed it and held it tightly behind your back while the other squeezed your neck until you felt light as air. He grit his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm for the sake of punishing you further.

"Say it," he repeated with malice.

You were right there, so close to release that your mouth simply couldn't stay shut, but it wasn't breath you were so desperate for. You held it, brows furrowed in a mix of pain and pleasure so brutal you weren't entirely sure you'd survive another thrust. You felt his teeth at your neck, biting down as he let out a groan. It appeared he was in torment too, desperate in his own right to find release inside of you. His voice had driven you to madness, but those breathy moans he couldn't seem to hold in any longer were what sent you over the edge and that only made his struggle to maintain control harder. Your body pulsed so deliciously around him. You were tight enough to begin with, but now? It was too much and his head dipped lower in the crook of your neck to nip at your shoulder as his hips began to tremble from the exerted effort to keep his pace controlled. Not yet, not until he heard you say it.

"Michael," you gasped with your eyes wide open, though between the lack of oxygen and the intensity of pleasure, all you saw was white, "I'm yours, all yours. I'm yours."

Your whispered promises never stopped, they fell from your lips like little prayers and they had him spiraling. His ragged breath and the way each of his hands gripped you tighter and tighter should have broken you, but you clung to what little air he allowed for more of him. He'd long abandoned that slow, meticulous pace to chase his own high with a vengeance. His hand left your wrist and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against him when he found release. He bent forward, panting underneath his mask as he pressed you against the marble countertop.

"Yours," he heard you continue whispering and he loosened his grip on your neck.

He stayed like that for awhile, still buried deep within you and baffled by the entire ordeal, but you were so warm. No part of him wanted to separate from you or leave those little whispers behind. You felt his thumb absentmindedly brushing circles over your jaw and you supposed that must have been what brought you back to total consciousness, but you stayed still, afraid that if you moved he'd leave. His sudden softness was unexpected given the brutality he'd just displayed, but you found yourself melting into it. Between the exhaustion that had settled into your bones and the delirium that filled your head, those rough, calloused hands of his were exactly what you needed to bring you back down to earth with grace. He too was warm and you couldn't help but press your cheek into his palm, which caused his brow to furrow behind his mask. When his head withdrew from the crook of your neck, you let out a weak moan in protest, but he continued his departure from you in silence.

"Michael," he heard you mutter softly as he struggled through his own haze to gather himself.

He paused to observe your wrecked state. You still hadn't moved a muscle and he wasn't entirely sure you could even if you wanted to. He'd annihilated you, had you for his own and he should leave now. Right?

"Please don't leave me," you whispered.

You didn't expect him to oblige your simple request, you knew he'd already far surpassed his limits. You were killing him, he thought to himself and in such a strange way. It was instinct you'd stolen along with something else he supposed he did have after all, because as he watched you try and fail to push yourself up, it skipped a beat. He was aware he could blame it on age or his usual pent up fury, but he knew that would be a lie. It was you. You were both a curse and a cure to the quietus that possessed him, a plague upon the heart he once thought had lost it's rhythm to violence. It was mercy you'd infected him with when you touched him, when you healed him and mercy was something so foreign to Michael, but for you, he supposed he could try to give you his own version. You hadn't the energy to even feel surprise when he took you into his arms, but you had just enough left to smile as you rested your cheek against his chest. Perhaps he'd be gone when you woke or maybe he'd stay. Either way, you were Michael's. Or was it the other way around?

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yeonjuns-beanie · 9 months

Text

A Dangerous Consummation

warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con, themes of guilt and angst, mention of r*pe, reader realizes they enjoy something extreme, confession of feelings, biting, unprotected sex, more sex with demons!, red face possesses reader this time, slapping, kind of subby dalton, spitplay, description of a snowball, softer ending

summary: what happened was something you couldn’t forget even if you tried. as you wrestle with your feelings of the night, you start noticing that something is not right. not long after, you come face to face with the beast that marked you as his own. You confide in dalton, knowing he’s the only one who could help, but his assistance turns into something much more lewd.

a/n: after seeing how licentious affairs had been doing, i felt quite inspired to write a conclusive counterpart to it. when your ask came through it puzzled in perfectly with what i had drafted up so far. i hope i’ve done your request justice! i’ll prolly write more for dalton after this. i’ve seen the movie a third time now n have too many ideas. this can be read as a stand alone fic, although i would recommend you read the first part to capture all the filth. have a great day! <3 ~nero

Dalton Lambert x possessed!female reader

word count:6.6k

Pt.1

Your body was weak and your mind was beyond exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and to somewhat forget about the events of tonight, but Dalton’s shaky cries kept your mind running. You couldn’t find your voice to let him know what happened, so instead you shared in the starkness of the dorm the only thing filling the air were the occasional footsteps on the floor above you and Dalton’s cries.

You hadn’t moved from your position on his bed, still very aware of the pallid liquid slowly drying into the skin of your lower back. You felt Dalton lift his head from the bed and heard him get up to his feet.

“I’ll be right back.”

Only then did you lift your head up. You didn’t want him to leave, you didn’t want to be left alone because if you were to be completely transparent–you were scared. Even with the recollection of what just happened, he still comforted you in his natural form, and you still needed him around.

“Wait.”

Dalton turned around, his eyes wide at finally hearing you utter something besides a breath. You looked so broken and he knew it was his fault. He couldn’t look at you for too long because he felt the tears brimming his waterline within the second. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he grabbed the door handle setting out to what he initially went to do knowing he’d be weak for you if he stayed any longer.

“I promise, I’ll be right back.”

And with that, he snaked out of the door rubbing his hands across his face trying to wipe off his emotions. On the other side of the door, you dropped your hand back on the bed, feeling some sense of defeat.

“...Don’t go…”

Sighing you tried to let your body fall into a state of sleep, but every time you got close to the relief of sleep your body would wake you up with chills erupting across your skin. You couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you. Even though the room was decently illuminated by the full moon beaming through the windows, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel safe. You shut your eyes, knowing that you wouldn’t fall asleep but at least you wouldn’t be made known of anything manifesting in front of you.

The room started to feel oppressive. Every second that Dalton was gone it was becoming unbearable. There was a blanket of heated anxiety that you felt lay across your body and you knew something was watching you. You just couldn’t find the strength to open your eyes to face your opponent. You decided to barely squint your eyes open to make out just a fraction of what was causing you so much unease, but before you could muster up your full courage you heard the door unlock.

The amber lighting from the hallway painted the dingy tile flooring and the shadow of Dalton’s figure graced you with a moment of peace. Lifting your head to look at him, the warmth that filled your chest was something you couldn’t ignore. You could never be mad at him. Weakly, you motioned with your head as he fully came into the room.

“Can you turn on the light?”

He nodded and with the lurid overhead light casting over the dorm, you finally felt somewhat at ease. Dalton walked over to you still very apprehensive about being around you. Laying a small tub of hot water on the desk, he placed some hand towels on the chair. Kneeling back by the side of the bed you heard his voice cut through the silence again.

“Is it…is it okay if I touch you?”

He knew.

With the scene in front of him, it was almost moronic to think something else occurred on his bed. You nodded, but something told you that that wasn’t enough consent for him. Turning to look at him, a downturned smile poked at your lips.

“Yeah…you can touch me.”

With your verbal sanction, you felt a dry cloth make contact with your lower back. Sliding the partly dried slick off of your skin and encasing it in the towel, he followed with a warm towel. Relaxing muscles you didn’t even realize were tense. With another dry towel, he wiped over the small of your back making sure that you wouldn’t feel the chill of the air blow over your skin. He was sparing himself only taking care of your backside, but he knew that sooner or later he’d have to turn you over.

With his eyes shut, he took a deep breath preparing himself for whatever horror he’d have to look at.

“Can you roll over for me? So I can clean the rest of you..”

His voice trailed off, ashamed that he would have to take in more of this grim illustration that you were left bare in. Dalton got up from the side of the bed and went to your side of the room to dig through your drawers to find a sleep shirt for you. Picking the first large shirt he found, he turned around and was faced with your delicate body on its back. Vulnerable and exposed with small bruises peppered along your body.

As he came back over to you, his breath hitched and tears welled in his waterline. The life in his eyes drained as he took in your fragile form. A deep garnet stain was swiped across the side of your chin, maroon blemishes formed on the surface of your wrists, along your jawline, and there was a nasty crimson mark that was centered on the side of your neck.

The only puzzling thing was that that was the only one that truly looked like a bite mark. His stomach turned, knotting in regret. Placing your shirt on the edge of the bed he grabbed the wet towel, dunking it in the hot water, he needed to turn away from you. As the water trickled back into the bowl his thoughts played a horrifying symphony of guilt.

How could he let this happen? How could he hurt you? How could he let himself be so weak against that thing? After so long…

He turned around to face you, wrapping the towel around two fingers he kneeled again, wiping the warm towel against your marks. Your voice fluttered into his ears, a little bit more life swimming in your tone and he was delighted to hear your voice despite the circumstance.

“I guess you could say I’m afraid of the dark too now.”

You had a small smile pulling at your lips but horror pulled at Dalton’s.

“I’m so sorry y/n...I’m so sorry.”

You felt bad having him apologize knowing that deep down you enjoyed what happened. There was a certain sense of shame coursing through you but it was for wildly different reasons. Bringing your arm to rest across your eyes, you heard the water trickling in the bowl again and then felt a comforting warmth against the valley of your breasts. Dragging the towel across the areas that either Dalton felt needed attention or had vibrant bruising on them, he came to your flowery center. Hesitant, he looked up at you.

“Y/n, is it okay if I touch you here?”

“It’s okay Dalton, I trust you.”

A minuscule amount of relief sprinkled over him. How you still found it in you to be tender after whatever happened, killed him and it only crushed his heart even more. He needed to protect you and he failed. The one person he was truly enamored by, who made him feel more than emptiness, he failed.

Taking the towel, he gently cleaned your now wilted and tender petals. You hated to admit it but as he swiped over your folds, you kept having flash images of how you were ravished earlier in the evening. Your once angelic grotto was now tainted with the sin of taboo lust. You wanted to stop the small convulses at your center but the aftershocks were too much to control. You removed your arm from your face looking at Dalton once more, your anxiety wanting to confirm that it was still Dalton in the room with you.

As Dalton turned back around, he picked up your shirt and you somehow found the strength to sit up on the bed. Dalton was quick to rush to your side making sure that you were level. The worry in his eyes was so endearing that you almost forgot about all the events that occurred. You felt he had done more than enough and wanted to prove to him that you were in fact okay, you just needed time to recuperate.

“I-I’m okay, Dalton. Thank you.”

You were sincere, you weren’t trying to push him away and you wanted him to understand that and you felt that he did as he sat down on the bed across from you keeping an eye on your every move. Removing yourself of your bra, tank top, and cardigan, you tossed them all to your side of the room and grabbed the shirt that was in Dalton’s hands, pulling it over your body.

You crossed your legs and sat directly across from him, trying to gather what emotions were swarming through his head. It looked like he wanted to ask a question but didn’t have the courage to do so. Covering your legs with your shirt, you leaned over and nudged his knee with your hand.

“What’s going on in your head?”

He sighed, heavily and then looked around the dorm in hopes that he could find his answer somewhere nonverbally. Looking down at his hands and back up at you he found his voice.

“What happened? I genuinely don’t know—I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line suddenly feeling irrevocably sorry for him. You grabbed his hands and took a deep breath, ready to recount the portion of the night that he had no recollection of.

As you neared the end of your tale, you felt something wet the top of your hand. Looking up, you noticed a river of tears flowing from Dalton’s eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed in panic, immediately looking to calm him down. You wiped your thumb across his cheek taking what tears you could with it.

“Hey, Dalton–Dalton, look at me. It’s okay. I’m not mad or upset with you, this just means we have to figure this out together now.”

Dalton weaved his hands out of yours to wipe the remaining tears away from his face. Sniffling, he spoke after what felt like years of silence.

“I just, I don’t understand how you can look me in the face and tell me it’s okay after you just told me I raped you. How am I supposed to look at you and pretend everything is fine when I let you get hurt by simply just being involved with me? How can you even look at me?!”

To say his questions were laden would be an understatement. You now would have to present him with information you couldn’t even grasp the gravity of yet because you just discovered it about yourself. You sighed, coming to terms very quickly with your emotions.

“Dalton. Before I go on, there are a couple of things I haven’t mentioned yet.”

He looked up at you again, eyes full of panicked hysteria wondering what else you could possibly tell him happened.

“While you were possessed, this…entity told me something. It told me that everything it was going to do to me were things you wished you could do yourself. And it was preying on the fact that I was…aroused and that I was, well–enjoying it…”

The shame you felt creep up your throat was something that almost made you want to gag. The shock on his face was hard to manage because you were worried he would never be able to look at you normally. That any budding or fully bloomed feelings he had for you would be diminished to dust due to your confession. The silence you shared was beginning to become unbearable as you stared at each other.

“Please say something, Dalton. I can’t have you no-”

“-You, you enjoyed it?”

“You kinda have a hard time separating the fact that the person in front of you isn’t actually that person. Even more so when they look exactly the same and that person is someone you have a thing for in the first place…”

You scratched the back of your neck somewhat embarrassed and in awe of how quickly the truth just tumbled out of you. When you looked back at Dalton, you noticed a figured shadow appear behind him, but as quick as it appeared it was gone. Shaking your head, you wiped your face with your hands trying to find some of the same bravura you displayed moments before.

“Please don’t make me sit in silence again. I really just bared my bones here.”

“You have a thing, for me?”

“That’s what you got from all this?”

“It’s kinda a loaded moment y/n.”

You wanted something to distract you from the awkward tension that was now in the room, or at least that’s what it felt like to you. Looking around for your phone, you noticed it was on the floor peeking out from the bed. Looking over at Dalton you pointed to the floor.

“Can you grab that for me? It’s kind of in a dark spot.”

Without missing a beat, Dalton bent over and handed you your phone. Speaking as he sat up to hand it to you.

“This is more than a lot to digest, but for what it’s worth it wasn’t lying. N-not about the sex thing but I also have a thing for you. Wish it was divulged under different circumstances but we’re here now.”

“So by default, the sex thing is also true?”

You puckered your lips trying to fight a smile from teasing him. The situation itself was so heavy and you were searching for any remedy to lighten the mood. Dalton deadpanned, his face void of emotion trying to hide the annoyed smugness that was creeping up. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat, feeling a veneer of normalcy between the two of you. The nervous pit finally dissipating when you heard his laugh float through your ears.

“Yeah, yeah I guess that means it’s true too.”

With a small smile stretching at your lips, you grabbed his hands and almost got lost in the cerulean color of his eyes.

“So does this mean, we’re okay? For right now at least. I know there’s still so much that we have to work through I just wanna make sure that-”

“-Y/n. We’re okay. As long as you’re fine, I’m fine.”

Letting go of a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in you let yourself relax. You checked your phone and seeing as it was the middle of the night you looked back up at him.

“Guess we should call it a night, huh?”

Dalton nodded and pushed himself off the bed to turn off the light switch. When you realized his destination you stopped him, maybe a little too hastily.

“Wait! Can we leave the lights on?”

His expression softened and you saw a glimpse of that unbearable worry cross his features again, guilt quickly running through his veins again as you continued.

“And, can we sleep together? I just know I won’t be able to fall asleep if it’s just me…”

You were embarrassed to ask him for something so silly but there was no way you’d be able to just forget everything that happened, happened and be able to calm your mind down enough to sleep. With the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard slip through his lips, Dalton came back to the bed and motioned for you to scoot over.

“Of course. Whatever you need I’ll do.”

There was a reason why you fell for him as quickly as you did. There was something about how naturally attentive he was. Under that brooding artist exterior was somebody unconditionally tender despite his humane pitfalls. As you moved your body toward the edge of the bed closest to the wall, Dalton slipped into the bed lifting the covers so the both of you could get comfortable. As he laid down, you wormed yourself to snuggle as close as possible to his body.

“G’night y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

The silence you shared was comfortable but as time ticked by and Dalton’s breathing started to grow heavier, your mind started to wander and grow even more restless. Perhaps it was the newly attached fear of what was entailed when Dalton shut his eyes or maybe it was the fact your eyes were playing tricks on you and you kept seeing figures in the corner of the dorm by your bed. The lights in the room were all on so it’s not like shadows were playing games with you. There was just something you knew wasn’t right and you couldn’t quite place it.

Placing your leg to rest across Dalton’s, you moved more onto your side and clutched your fist into his shirt. Feeling that if you held onto him tighter somehow, someway he’d be less likely to drift away from you. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to shut your eyes. Convincing yourself that your anxiety was bedeviling you to imagine things that weren’t there. Finding solace in hearing the steady pace of Dalton’s heartbeat, your body finally drifted into sleep.

~*~

When your eyes finally fluttered open, Dalton was gone, and the light in the room came from the sun poking through the blinds of the windows. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, when your eyes refocused you could’ve sworn you saw something crouched in the corner by your bed. Feeling your heartbeat accelerate you quickly jumped from the bed and turned on the overhead lights. Feeling safer with the light shining in all the corners that left you with uncertainty.

Finding your phone in the sheets you saw you had about 30 minutes before your first class. Grabbing your toiletry bag, you walked to the bathrooms to get yourself ready for the day. Some people were walking in and out of the bathrooms but not nearly as many when it’s earlier in the morning. In your peripherals, you kept track of the bodies that came and went, which meant you were completely aware when you realized you were the only one in the bathroom.

You examined your body. All of the now garnet markings were now fully settled into your skin and you stared at yourself in pity. Wondering for a swift moment, what you looked like from an outside perspective. Quelling your thoughts, you began brushing your teeth, staring down the bathroom through the mirrors, you kept track of the bottom half of the stalls making sure that you saw no unusual shadows forming. Your anxiety was turning into paranoia and it was getting hard to ignore. Everything from the building settling to a bird flying past the window had you on edge.

Leaning down to spit the remainder of your toothpaste out, you let your guard down a tiny bit. Finishing rinsing your mouth out, when you brought your head back up from the sink a contorted face was behind you in your reflection. The horror that chilled your bones left you frozen when you made contact with a familiar pair of amber irises. The peeling skin on the red and black face behind you was enough to give you nightmares for the next five decades.

Your scream died in your throat, because who would believe you if you told them what you saw? Turning around to face your consternation, you were immediately stunned as you realized there was nothing behind you. It was just you in the bathroom and the now haunting sound of the faucet running. You tried to calm your breathing but you just decided to grab your bag and book it out of the bathroom suddenly not feeling safe, anywhere.

Going back inside your dorm, you were grateful that your class was online today. You didn’t think you’d be able to make it through the process of dressing yourself knowing there’d be a moment in time where you wouldn’t be able to see your surroundings. Grabbing your computer, you sat on Dalton’s bed, needing to be able to see every nook and cranny of the room. Logging into the video call for your class, you started to feel exhausted and almost estranged from your body.

You focused a little bit more when you heard your professor’s voice come through the speakers but it wasn’t for long until you felt yourself drifting away again. As your class was getting ready to wrap up, Dalton pushed through the door canvas first. You wouldn’t have noticed him if his canvas wasn’t whacking against the door. You gave him a small nod acknowledging him and stared back at your screen, almost getting lost in the pixels.

As your professor gave her goodbyes, you felt your eyes growing heavy and soon you were overcome with sleep. Realizing you could relax now with Dalton in the room with you. As your head bobbed, your body woke you up from the sudden movement and you felt like you weren’t connected with yourself. As if you were two separate entities but still in the same body. It felt like you were in a video game watching someone control you.

As Dalton set all of his stuff down, you stretched your arms out looking at him with unintentional doe eyes. He came over to you, letting you wrap your arms around his slim waist as his hands gently caressed your cheeks. Dropping his hands to your shoulders he tried to read your features before asking.

“Everything okay while I was gone?”

You thought about your answer for a moment, almost not wanting to share what you saw earlier today. It felt like something was blocking your ability to speak but you shoved the feeling down with the comfort of your worry standing right in front of you. If you guys were gonna get through this at all you had to be completely transparent with one another.

“I saw this thing while I was in the bathroom today. It had a red and black face and the same yellow eyes as you did last night. Scared the hell outta me.”

As you recited the event to Dalton, his eyes carried a knowing dread, but before he could get the chance to offer any deliberate thought, you suddenly felt overwhelmingly touchy. Pulling at his belt loops to bring him closer to you, you began bunting your face into his stomach. Needing to feel him on you in some sort of capacity.

You felt yourself beginning to drift away from your body again but this time you leaned into the feeling. Falling victim to a conjuration you weren’t even aware of yet. The moment in the bathroom where you held a deep gaze, full of terror with that decrepit monster was one where your body was no longer your own. You know you had to fight for the flesh vessel that was your own but the feelings you had brewing were taking precedence over the ordeal.

“Missed you today. It got so lonely while you were away.”

Dalton was in a state of muddled confusion. His hands were no longer offering you the comfort they did when he first came in, but now he was using them to push you away, attempting to get a better look at you. When you resisted him pushing your body away, he sighed above you trying to find his words.

“Y/n, we can’t just not talk about what you saw. That thing is haunting you now too.”

It was like listening to a conversation between two people inside your head. Whatever you wanted to say would die the moment you opened your mouth and something else wildly different would escape instead.

“I’m not afraid of it anymore–besides, I don’t wanna talk about it right now. I just want you.”

Patting his bed, you told him to sit which he did hesitantly. Once he was on your level, you nestled your head in the conjunction of his neck and shoulders meet. Inhaling his scent discreetly enough that it could be mistaken for a deep breath, his smell made you woozy. Intoxicated.

“I just wanna make you feel good.”

Your eyes were lidded so when Dalton craned his neck to respond to you, he couldn’t quite see your eyes.

“Y/n, I don’t think we should~mm!”

His words suddenly grew stale on his tongue as you moved your body to kiss him. As his eyes widened, you closed yours conveying your need for him. He took a few seconds to reciprocate the gesture, but once he did you took full opportunity to get him on his back and present himself to you. You broke the kiss so that his legs could fully get on the bed and you were swift to straddle him.

Gunning for his lips again, you didn’t give him much time for refusal. Your hands wandered his body committing all of curves to memory. Breaking the kiss, you allowed him to catch his breath but within seconds you were on his jawline placing open mouthed kisses along his skin. Moving your attack to his neck, you found his sweet spot tucked right below his ear. Dalton whined out and it was apparent that the noise that came out of him surprised him by how quickly he silenced himself. He couldn’t see it but there was a wicked smile that spread across your face knowing he was right where you needed him.

“Don’t go silent on me, baby. I wanna hear you scream.”

Licking a stripe up from the base of his neck to his sweet spot, you bit at the skin. A small moan followed by a hiss escaped his mouth and when you pulled away you were pleased that the mark you left looked similar to your own. You started to feel Dalton relax into the feeling of the pleasure you were giving him and you started to feel the bulge in his pants begin to strain against the fabric. Returning your assault to his slightly swollen lips now, you rolled your hips over his. Barely satisfying the ache you were beginning to feel pool between your legs.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him and began to snake your hand down his body, your head hovering over the trail you made till you met the hem of his jeans. Taking one finger, you swiped across the fabric, your nails gently scratching at the skin above it. Goosebumps blooming across his skin, you heard him whine above you.

“Y/n/n, please.”

With the angle you were at, a derisive smirk cast on your face but Dalton couldn’t see that. Unbuckling his belt and undoing the zipper and button of his pants, you finally looked up at him. Your smirk turning into a full on grin when you saw the fear that quickly painted his features. His body froze and his breathing became labored, trying to persuade himself into thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him. But as he blinked rapidly, the scene in front of him didn’t change.

Those golden irises had replaced the eyes he had grown so fond of. The grin that stayed plastered on your face was discomposing to him and gratifying to your own desire. You palmed his dick through the fabric and that motion brought him back to his body. Trying to squirm out from underneath you flared your hand and an invisible force kept his body pinned to the bed. Coming back up to be face to face with Dalton, your smile faded and your eyebrows furrowed with feigned worry.

Petting his cheek, he tried to move away from your hand but his attempt was futile. Whatever was pinning him down had no intentions of letting him go any time soon. With an ersatz version of sympathy painting your features you finally spoke. Your voice altered a familiar rasp in your tone.

“Don’t you want me, Dalton?”

Snaking back down to his undone pants, you pulled them off with his underwear just enough so that his weeping, blush tipped cock was freed from its confinements. As his cock rested on his stomach, you flattened your tongue to drag up from his balls to his tip. Dalton’s body reluctantly rolled up in reaction to how sensitive he was.

“Don’t you want me to make you feel good, baby?”

Grabbing the base of his cock, you gathered up enough spit to dangle a wad down onto his tip. Circling his tip with your tongue, your hand collected the spit and spread it down his shaft. Fully encasing your mouth around his tip, Dalton hissed at the unexpected action. Prodding your tongue out against his shaft every time your head bobbed down, Dalton’s body was squirming at the newfound euphoria he was feeling.

Picking up your pace, you slowed down every time his sounds got a little bit louder, wanting to see how long he could hold out for. As he involuntarily rolled his hips into your mouth, you pulled off of him completely causing a small whine to squeeze past his lips. Dalton was so wrapped up in the feeling of your body sending him into a state of sexual haze that almost forgot it wasn't really you. As your possessed form hovered over his face again, you continued to stroke his cock as you spoke.

“To think you spent all the time taking care of her last night just to let the same thing happen to you…”

Suddenly the pressure that he once felt on his body was gone and he turned his face away so he wouldn’t have to commit your yellowed eyes to memory. A flash of impassioned rage coursed through your veins as you brought your free hand to grab the sides of his face forcing him to look at you.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you. You’re both disgusting getting off on this, but for some reason, I think you’ll have an easier time admitting your guilt.”

Dalton’s eyes widened in fear and realization of what his body was about to release. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes rolled back allowing only the whites of his eyes to be seen. You relished in his irrefutable ecstasy and moved back down to his heavy cock. Wrapping your lips around his prurient length, you massaged his balls and with a few bobs of your head, Dalton released his load into your mouth. The velocity of his spurts of cum tickling the back of your throat.

Dalton was in a hazed rapture. Fighting with his morals of how wrong the situation was but how good it all felt. His legs stiffened and he fisted his hands into his sheets in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the absolute pleasure coursing through him. You continued sucking at his length, overstimulating, and milking him of all he had. The moans that left him were airy but frequent, with the occasional low tone coming through them. You couldn’t deny the pulsing that was happening between your legs every time a sound left him. He was completely at your mercy

“Stop stop stop.”

When the pleasure became too much, Dalton pushed at your head to get you off of him. The overstimulation pushed him to a state he had never been in before. As Dalton tried to catch his breath, you removed yourself from your underwear and placed your heat on top of his length rolling your hips to get some type of friction. You were hungry, needy for some type of sexual zeal and there was only one thing that could satisfy this ache. Dalton.

Dalton’s eyes were heavy and shameless, still recovering from the aftershocks of his orgasm he writhed in tandem with the movement of your hips. Slowly examining his face, you carded your fingers through his hair, moving back a few stray pieces. He looked completely fucked out, so much so that you almost felt he didn’t deserve anything else.

Placing your lips upon his, you dribbled some of his cum back into his mouth. His eyes blew open and his cries were muffled. The sudden taste of his own briny and tangy juices being spat into his mouth was more than unexpected. When you pulled away from him, there was a concoction of spit and cum smeared around his mouth. Gripping his face in your hand again, your amber eyes held a certain dominance and wicked enjoyment that sent chills up Dalton’s spine. Whether out of fear or arousal, he couldn't place nor did he have the capacity to after your demand.

“Swallow.”

As Dalton was overcome with an overzealous desire gift wrapped in terror, he failed to notice your body moving for its next attack. Before Dalton had the chance to realize what was going on, his ruined and wanton cock was slipped into your beatific cunt. The moan that left Dalton was whorish in nature and barely sounded like it was his own.

“Shit!”

Without missing a beat you began bouncing on his cock with complete and utter ardor and empressement. Each time your lower bodies connected your clit so deliciously rubbed against him sending lascivious chills across your skin and an aching pulse within your walls. Dalton’s head was rubbing into the pillow beneath him, his eyes closed in what felt like divine ecstasy. Again, you were met with an overwhelming urge to reprimand him. Raising your hand mid air, it gained enough speed to usher a slap that echoed in the room.

His eyes opened immediately, stupified by the sting that was spidering across the surface of his skin. Switching to roll your hips so you could get as much friction on your meretricious cunt. You were leaking all over him, your sickeningly angelic juices were marking him as your own. Panting and grounding himself to find his voice, Dalton looked up at you, eyes and body drunk on your pussy.

“Why, why did you slap me?”

Something similar to a growl rumbled in your throat as a sinful giggle left your mouth.

“Aww, baby, did it hurt? Here, I’ll kiss it better.”

Slowing down your hips, you leaned forward and sloppily licked over Dalton’s cheek and then leaving what resembled a tender kiss on his skin. The small act of tenderness made a glimmer of hope bubble in his stomach thinking that maybe the worst was over. But as you moved away from his cheek, he was unfortunately still met with your yellowed irises. Dalton didn’t have long to stare before you ducked your head down again, licking at the barely dried concoction of cum and spit that was still littered around his mouth.

Cleaning up the mess with your tongue you straightened yourself out, placing your hands on his torso taking him in in such a state. Caressing your hands down the sides of his ribcage a filthy idea conquered your mind. Grabbing Dalton’s wrists, you placed his hands on your hips and smiled down at him.

“Fuck me. Like it’s the only thing your good for. Make me cum.”

Like a dog, he was quick to action. Situating himself so that he had better leverage, Dalton began pounding into you from underneath. He was whining, whimpering, and had the most endearing face of focus. Eyebrows furrowed, lips curled around his teeth trying to pacify his sounds, and a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Fuck! I-I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last. Y/n~ah!”

“Aww, you’re gonna cum? Did you ask if you could fucking cum?”

“No, no I didn’t. I’m s-sorry.”

You gripped his face again, making sure that he’d see flash images of this for days. Pushing on the sides of cheeks, you forced his mouth to pry open prepping a wad of spit in your own.

“Open.”

Dalton complied and you set free the wad of spit directly into his mouth and he swallowed without instruction to do so. With his hips stilled you started bouncing on his cock again, relishing in how each inch slid in and out of you. The stretch of his length alerting you to something else. Your walls were clenching around his throbbing cock and he moaned out in protest.

“Please, please let me cum!”

“Beggin' now?”

Your tone was disgustingly smug, the demon possessing you well aware of what it was doing to your relationship. As if someone just woke you up from a nap, suddenly the pleasure that your body was feeling was becoming more and more overwhelming. You were becoming more aware and what entity that was fronting as you was beginning to fade away. Dalton’s voice hissing out in utter euphoria brought you back to your body completely.

“Fuck, please! I can’t hold it.”

You couldn’t stop your body from its carnal instinct to keep moving and to run over that precipice of full body bliss. As the warmth exploded in your core, your body gushed over Dalton’s. The euphoria your body felt unable to control how it escaped you. As you were coming down from your high, your body was still moving and you felt your walls become stained with a fountain of ivory strokes. The sound that left Dalton was so choked and full of fervor, you couldn’t help the involuntary fluttering your flooded pussy had around his cock.

The room was sticky and hot, the only sound being the heavy breaths from both of you trying to calm your bodies down. You weren’t sure whether to move or to just continue staring at Dalton’s limp form. Running your hands through his hair, his eyes fluttered open, more than delighted to see the warmness of your eyes back. The vibrant yellow hue nowhere to be seen. The confused haze you were in earlier was not present either. You were completely aware and were contending with the fact that it happened again. What you didn’t expect was the faint apology that came from Dalton.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“For what?”

“All of this.”

You sighed not entirely sure if you should be having this conversation while he was still winding down and still inside of you.

“Let’s save the serious conversations for when we’re not fucked out and the room doesn’t smell of sex.”

Dalton chuckled lightly, feeling so relieved that it was you again. His intuition hadn’t proved him wrong yet but he felt like there was no way this could occur a third time. Whatever that entity wanted it got and that was satisfactory enough for him. Sliding off of Dalton, you laid on your side next to him.

“We should probably go wash up, huh?”

Dalton nodded but he didn’t make any motion to move. Instead, he grabbed your body and pulled you closer to him.

“Yeah, but let’s just lay here for a moment. I need to remember what you feel like.”

Letting your hand wander up to his hair again, you carded through his locks admiring his face. He leaned into the feeling, pushing his face into your hand as you caressed down his face. Swiping your thumb across his cheek a small shred of doubt crept up.

“We gonna be okay?”

Dalton laughed through his nose, the sentiment absolving you of your doubt.

“Yeah, y/n. We’re gonna be okay.”

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert smut #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagines #dalton lambert fanfic #insidious the red door #horror fanfiction #horror smut #insidious fanfic #horror imagines

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divine-knight-hand · 6 months

Text

Night of The Maneater

Part 2: The Catch

Part One || Michael Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3 Halloween Triple Feature Masterlist

Pairing: Michael Afton x Ghostface!Female Reader

Summary: The games are over, and The Maneater has laid claim to her prize. Now, it would seem she wants to play a new game with her catch of the night...

Content Warnings: Light bondage, slight knife kink, stalker kink, unprotected sex, Dom!Reader, Sub!Michael, edging, pleasure crying, begging, praise

Notes: This is the first time I’ve written a fic in second person. I usually write in first person, but I figured it was time for a refreshing change. Well, that and I didn’t feel like switching POVs, so now we have this. Enjoy!

Also, I didn’t realize when scheduling the post for this, but happy FNAF movie day!!! How convenient was my timing? Hehehe! 🤭

Word Count: 2,378

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Michael woke up in his own bedroom. The back of his head still throbbed, and he even felt a little dizzy as the haze of sleep threatened to pull him back under.

He was seated at the head of his bed, convinced the whole experience he had with The Maneater was just a bad dream until he tried to move his arms. He was handcuffed to the headboard behind him, his arms bound behind his back.

“Rise and shine~” The ghost-faced figure entered the bedroom with an air of sinister excitement contrary to her mask–which was stuck in a silent scream exaggerated by its elongated mouth and stretched jaw–and her body was draped in the dark fabrics of a tattered black cloak, leaving most of her figure to the imagination.

She strolled into the room holding Michael’s long abandoned bowl of popcorn. “I hope you don’t mind. I got a little hungry while you were out.” It was odd, hearing her voice without a phone in his hands. It came to his ears in a sound unmuddled by telephone static.

She placed the bowl on the nightstand before sitting on the bed next to him, resting a gloved hand on his knee. “How’s that head of yours?”

Michael flinched under her touch. “I- It could be better.”

“Poor thing…” The Maneater rose to her feet, strolling along the side of the bed. “Need a painkiller?”

“No thanks.” He decided he’d rather not let this mysterious figure drug him while he was handcuffed to his own bed.

When The Maneater leaned against his nightstand, he found his voice again to ask. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’d like to do a lot of things to you, Michael,” The Maneater’s voice took a sensuous dip. “But, I need you to admit something first.”

Michael felt his heart flutter. “Wh-”

He was interrupted by The Maneater as she pulled a hunting knife from within her tattered cloak to hold the flat of the blade against his face, the chill of the steel making him shiver.

“You never fully answered my question earlier.” She used the blade to caress his face, eliciting another shudder from him. “Did you enjoy our little game?” She leaned in, and Michael almost thought he could see the faint outline of human eyes looking back at him from within the dark voids of the mask's lifeless eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I can tell how you really feel. I can see…” She dragged the flat of the blade along his jaw. “...how the danger as I chased you…” The knife continued its journey down his chest. “..and the risk of being caught by me…” She continued sliding the knife all the way to his knee before trailing it back up his thigh to rest beside his evident arousal. “...really affected you. You liked being hunted, didn’t you? I’d even dare to say that you wanted me to catch you.”

Michael anxiously bit his lip, his cock throbbing with each new part of his body the knife explored. “I- I don’t-”

“Oh, come on.” The Maneater scoffed. “Answering this question wrong is what caused you to lose our game in the first place. Would you really want to make things worse for yourself by misanswering again?”

Michael gulped, feeling a surge of humiliation as heat flushed his cheeks. “I- I did…”

“You did what, hun?” The Maneater teased as she used the flat of the knife to tilt his chin back up to face her. “Use your words, Michael~”

Michael felt another surge of embarrassment as a desperate whine creeped into his voice. “I liked your eyes on me… I liked hearing you praise me… I liked being hunted by you… and…”

He could hear The Maneater breathing heavily. “And what?”

“And…” Michael twiddled with his fingers behind his back. “And, part of me wanted you to catch me.”

The Maneater shivered, and she lazily tossed the knife across the room before cupping Michael’s face with her gloved hands. The material was thin enough to allow him to feel the warmth of her hands through it, and he let out a soft moan as his eyes fluttered closed at her touch.

“And now that I have you,” She rubbed her thumbs against the apples of his cheeks. “What should I do with you?”

Michael slowly opened his eyes, looking up at her with a soft expression. “Let me see who you are.”

The Maneater cocked her head, taking a moment to consider the idea. “Only if you ask nicely.”

Michael’s eyelashes fluttered as he breathed. “Can you show me who you are? Please?”

The Maneater slowly drew her hands away from Michael, and he softly whimpered at the loss of contact. “How polite~” She grabbed at her ghost face mask. “I guess I have no choice but to show you, now.” Then, in one fluid motion, she ripped it off.

Michael gasped at the beauty that hid underneath the eerie ghost face mask. He stared in silent wonder, taking in each feature of the human face that now greeted him with a knowing smirk. Your face.

He admired everything of yours that he could see. Your eyes. Your smile. The blush that only slightly betrayed your intimidating gaze. You were gorgeous. You were everything he wanted, and he wanted you a lot.

When you opened your mouth to speak, he hung on to your every word, finally being able to match the familiar voice to the new face. “That radio station you listen to knows me as ‘The Maneater’, but my real name is Y/N.”

“Y/N…” Michael softly tested your name on his tongue. “You look amazing…”

You chuckled at his compliment, holding a hand up to cover your growing smile. “You flatter me, Michael." You caressed his face in your gloved hands, leaning in closer until your forehead rested against his.

Michael could feel himself growing desperate. He could feel your hands on him, your breath intermingling with his against his mouth, and your gaze as it remained unwavering from his face. He would stare into those eyes for hours if his nerves allowed him to. He wanted nothing more than to pull you on top of him and beg you to take him.

Instead, all he could muster was a soft plea. “T- Touch me… Please…”

A sinister smirk tugged at your lips. “You want me to touch you?” You softly slid a hand up his thigh. “Like this?”

Michael almost felt dizzy under your touch. “Mmh… I need more…”

“More?” You jumped up onto the bed and crawled onto him, straddling his thighs. “You’re a needy thing, aren’t you?” You softly chuckled. “Luckily for you, I want the same things you do.”

Suddenly, you pulled him into a bruising kiss, grinding against the bulge that strained against the front of his jeans. He moaned at the friction, granting your tongue access to his mouth as you pulled him closer.

It was hot. Incredibly hot. Every inch of his skin burned for more of you, and he felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer. He felt sweat building on his brow as his impatience grew. He whined as he bucked his hips into yours, drawing a soft moan from your lips.

You pulled away from the kiss, briefly staying connected to Michael by a string of saliva. “You’re as tasty as you are pretty. I don’t think I’ll be able to get enough of you.”

Michael felt a wave of both pride and embarrassment as he shyly looked away. If he wasn’t already heavily blushing, he definitely would have been now.

You began to trail kisses along his neck, unbuttoning his shirt as you made your way to his collar. He felt a sudden draft over his skin as you finally opened his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders. The fabric collected behind his back, but the warmth of his wrists underneath the bunched material couldn’t compare to the warmth of his skin against yours.

Casting your gloves aside, you began to feel around on his chest. Michael hoped, for a moment, that you couldn’t feel how his heart pounded. Your kisses began to grow more possessive as you sucked on the sweet spot on his neck. He was sure it would visibly bruise by morning, but he didn’t care. He wanted you to mark him. To lay claim to him. He wanted you to leave reminders of what was happening that night all over his body.

You then slid your hands down to his belt, undoing it before freeing his aching cock from the confines of his jeans. He anxiously bit his lip as you closely examined his length, the tip dripping with precum.

“So hard for me,” You breathed, your fingers teasing the weeping tip.

“P- Please…” Michael mewled, tears of desperation prickling in his eyes.

It was then that you finally gave in, moving off of his lap to strip off your black cloak, before letting your equally dark bra and panties fall to join the pool of clothes at your feet. Michael’s eyes scoured over every inch of your skin–your thighs, your stomach, your breasts–before meeting your own. His hands were eager to reach out and touch you, but the faint rattling sound from behind his back reminded him that his hands were still bound.

“Don’t lose your patience now, Michael.” You playfully tutted as you returned to his lap. “We’re almost there.” You began lining yourself up with him, teasing his tip between your slick folds. “Feel that? That’s how you made me feel tonight. I meant it when I said I had a lot of fun chasing you.” Everything you were saying was filthy and raw, and it only made Michael all the more desperate for you.

He whined, words escaping him. “Mh… Please…”

Leaning forward, you kissed him again as you finally let him inside. He felt his eyes roll back as your inner walls surrounded his throbbing cock. You moaned into his mouth as he slowly filled you.

Once you broke the kiss, you began to move your hips, setting a brutal pace as you allowed Michael’s length to slide in and out of you. He watched the way your breasts bounced with each thrust of your hips. Your head was only slightly tilted back as you shamelessly moaned aloud, your eyes unmoving from his face

Michael’s mind grew hazy. All he could think about was how good your tight cunt felt around his cock… and it felt good. The wet sounds your movements created faded into background noise as your pornographic moans became the only sound he could hear clearly.

“Mh- Ohhh…” He could feel warm tears spilling over his cheeks, but he couldn’t care about how he looked anymore. He was too lost in ecstasy. “So good- Ah!”

“Oh, Michael,” Between thrusts, your voice sounded smooth. Almost hypnotizing. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me.” You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away a tear with your thumb as the stream continued.

“It feels too good…” He imagined it would be the only coherent sentence he would form that night.

“You make me feel good, too, pretty boy.” You grunted as you clenched around him, earning another whine from him.

The pressure was mounting quickly. Michael could feel it. His hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead, and his release was so close. He just needed that one push to send him over the edge. Just a little more.

“Gonna cum already?” You teased as a light sheen of sweat formed on your brow. “You have such a sensitive cock. I can’t wait to milk it for every drop you have.”

“Please!” Michael choked as you leaned in to kiss his tear-streaked cheek.

“Awww. You really want to cum?” You immediately stopped your movements. “Not just yet, pretty boy.”

Michael choked out a sob as you edged him. “P- Please!” He attempted to buck his hips as tears spilled unceasingly over his cheeks. “Please, I want to cum! Please!”

“Poor thing…” You cooed, holding his hips down to remain unwavering in your stillness. “You’re really desperate, hm?”

Michael quickly nodded his head. In that moment, he was willing to do anything to be able to taste that sweet release you were keeping from him. His squirms of discomfort only seemed to spur you on, the sinister grin on your face growing with each whine that escaped his throat.

“Please…” Michael persisted. “Please, let me cum.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before giving in. “You’re lucky you’re sexy when you beg.”

You began riding him again, setting a more intense pace than before. You gripped his shoulders for leverage as you full-force fucked him, unrelenting in your motions.

“Mm- I- I-” Michael’s voice curled into whimpers as he neared his peak again. “M’cumming… C- Cumming!”

“Cum for me, Michael.” You softly ordered. “Let me feel you cum inside me.”

“I- I- Ah!” Michael finally hit his breaking point, and his cock twitched, filling you with his release as his moans grew in volume.

You helped him ride out his sigh, his orgasm bringing you to your own, and your praise remained unceasing as you came. “That’s it, Michael. Mmh… Fill me up just like that. Oh, yes… That feels so good… My pretty boy.”

As you both came down from your highs, Michael leaned his head back against the headboard of the bed, panting as his brain remained hazy from post-orgasm bliss. He just noticed your own heavy breathing right before you pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was softer. More affectionate than passionate.

Once you pulled away, you breathlessly smiled. “Don’t get too comfortable, Michael. I’m not done with you just yet~”

“Wh- What…” His voice trailed off, the question remaining unfinished as you trailed your kisses along his jaw.

“I’m gonna keep you busy for a while.” You whispered against his ear, making him shudder. “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I’m gonna milk you for every drop you have.”

Michael bit his lip as your inner walls clenched around his cock. This is gonna be a long night…

#halloween #spooky season #halloween fanfic #horror fanfiction #michael afton x reader #michael afton #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf fanfic #michael afton x female reader #michael afton smut #fnaf smut

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cherubdollyy · 8 months

Text

NSFW ABC - Michael Myers

18+ MDNI - AN: reader is gender neutral/no pronouns. CW: really soft c n c - domination + BD SM - violence and gore - knife play - choking, slapping etc - slight voyeurism

I reeeeealllllly enjoyed writing this one even though Michael isn't even my fave (sorry mm fans)

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) - A little cold and awkward at first but eventually he'll put an arm around you and just accept you cuddling up to him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) - He's come to love his eyes. He always thought of his stare as cold and monstrous, another weapon for him to use, but the way you look straight into his soul and aren't scared away is something he adores. The same goes for you, he loves your eyes, how innocent they can be. Looking at the world with kindness and seeing beauty where he couldn't.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) - He's kind of a neat freak so he doesn't like leaving a mess. He'll lick up every drop from you until you're ready to cum all over again. He loves forcing his load down the back of your throat so you have to swallow every last drop.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) - He doesn't keep these things secret because he's ashamed, they're just things you haven't discovered yet. He'll watch you through your windows, he'll follow you to make sure you're okay. He'll take your underwear with him so it's like you're always there and after a killing he'll wrap them round his cock and and masturbate with them. He does have a fantasy of following you after work at night and grabbing you aside to have his way with you but he doesn't want to scare you off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) - He's seen people having sex but until now he's never done it himself. I feel like he's tried to with victims but with all the screaming he just ends up shutting them up with a knife to the vocal chords and not bothering. Let's face it, he doesn't really have the social skills.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) - Anything dominant. As boring as it sounds he really does love missionary and the way he grabs your wrists with one hand and your throat with the other, nothing could be hotter.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) - He has his funny little moments but he's very deadpan (remember the sheet with the glasses, he's a goofy boy.)

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) - He keeps things quite trim down there. Same goes for his nails, beard etc and he has a little shower routine 👉👈 Gets his soap and washcloth, his razor and his towel neatly folded ready for a bath after a night of killing. I like to imagine that he's interested in your face masks and you rope him into doing them every week. It's come to be something he secretly really enjoys.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) - He's quite cold and domineering, pushing and pulling you into whatever position he wants you in. But occasionally in these moments of lust he'll brush the hair out of your face or linger on your lips a little longer after you kiss him. It's these moments you know, that he's never shared with anyone else, that are him showing his love to you in a way so deep he can't express it verbally.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) - We already know about the underwear situation but other than that he doesn't masturbate much. He has a mutual masturbation kink where he'll pretend to hide in the wardrobe and watch you walk over to your bed, pleasuring yourself and calling out his name gripping the sheets as you reach your climax. All the while he's tucked away amongst your clothes pumping furiously to your moans.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) - Domination. BDSM. He loves to control you, have power over you and see you helplessly tied up waiting to receive whatever he's about to do to you. He loves knife play. Tracing his blade up and down, gently at first and then more and more, drawing blood from your soft supple skin. Hearing you whimper as he slices gently into you, knowing you can't see for the blindfold. Choking you, edging you, getting to the point of breaking you and that's when he'll untie you, free you of your bonds and give you your release.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) - Pretty much just in the house as he thinks of it as your territory, mainly in the bedroom but also the living room. He'll walk in covered in blood, knife dropping to the floor and stride over to where you're cosied up on the couch reading a book and you get butterflies knowing what's about to go down.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) - After a kill can be a nerve wracking time for him because he has all this excess energy to get out and one way he knows to is to have you. He tends to worry that he'll hurt you as he kind of blacks out during these periods but the touch of your hand on his face brings him back to reality and you always know just what to do to help him get his release.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs) - He is never letting the tables get turned on him. There's no way you're going to be tying him up and dominating him. Any time you try and tease him by pulling away from his cock and giving the head soft kisses, looking up at him with knowing eyes, he'll grab your hair and use you to finish himself off making you gag on his length as punishment.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) - He tends to prefer getting head over giving it but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy going down on you too. He tends to prefer using his hands over his mouth so he can choke and slap you as you cum.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) - Fast, hard and powerful. He knows how to use slow strokes to drive you insane, using his overwhelming strength to hold your hips in place so you can't take control.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) - He comes across things in victims homes that he'll tell you about as a "What is this?" and "How do we use it?". If he likes the sound of it you'd order one of your own to play with and you notice on the days when you're waiting for it to arrive he's the one sprinting to the door when the post arrives. The disappointment on his still face is so obvious to you when it's just a bill in his hands, he shoves it over a little rougher than he meant.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) - Michael is actually very careful with you. He's very methodical when setting up and he's aware of the human body. He's aware that he's much stronger than the average man, he knows how much is too much. Sometimes getting you tied up takes so long that's the part he loves. Slowly moving around the room while you're lying there helpless and blindfolded, not knowing when he's going to attack. Sometimes he never does and lets you lie there dripping.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) - He has inhuman strength and regeneration powers so he could literally go forever. Honestly it's over when he's done. Sometimes it's quick and he's satisfied. Sometimes a victim gets away or he's interrupted and he needs the whole night to take out his frustrations on you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) - You might mention things to him, explain what you want to try out and he'd be more than happy to oblige. You soon realised he has a way with being dominant and favours having control over you. Whether it's through mental games or physical means. He particularly likes edging you with vibrators etc while you're tied up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) - He likes playing games with you. Not overtly sexual, telling you to stay put and wait for him until he gets back which turns out to be hours later. You're so grateful to finally see him and get your reward but he goes to the bathroom to clean up and you can't do anything but stand there, aching for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) - He's fairly quiet but as he thrusts harder his breathing gets heavier, moaning briefly into your skin, growling even, like a low purr.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) - He's very protective of you and he'll tail you when you're going to work etc. You won't notice him at first but after a little while you'll catch on but keep it to yourself because it makes him feel needed and you appreciate the gesture.

X = X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes) - He's fairly lean, very strong with a somewhat toned body. He's LONG, like even when he's soft he's packing!!

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) - He's not a super cuddly and affectionate person but he is pretty needy when it comes to you. Once he starts exploring with you and knowing what you like he wants it a lot. It's a good outlet for him but he also loves to make you feel good.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward) - He often stays awake for a while, lying there while you fall asleep on his chest. He's a bit on alert after being so vulnerable and he wants to protect you and your space so he stays up for a bit and maybe wanders around the house whilst being butt ass naked of course.

#my writing #michael myers #halloween fanfic #michael myers x reader #michael myers x y/n #horror x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #monster fucker #halloween smut #michael myers smut #monsters #horror #movies #horror fanfiction #fanfic

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zepp-l1n · 8 months

Text

Escape

Pairing: Adam Stanheight x (Photographer) GN!reader

summary: after Laurence leaves Adam behind, someone stumbles upon him accidentally. fic type - hurt/comfort, angst warning - cannon saw violence, oc involved that I made for the plot word count - 2,149 a/n: I love the Saw franchise so much and now that it's getting closer to Halloween I'm gonna write some scary stuff :D

"I have to go and get help. If I don't.... I'm going to bleed to death." Lawrence groaned out, clinging onto Adam.

"Don't leave me!" Adam begged. His hands tried to hold onto Lawrence's shirt tighter, but he was unsuccessful. Lawrence pulled away, slowly crawling towards the open door. Adam cried out to him as he made his way further and further away, but stopped as Lawrence turned back to him.

The older man pulled himself up a bit, using the wall and pipes as leverage. "Don't worry, I'll bring someone back. I promise."

Lawrence turned back to the door but stopped again when Adam called out. "Lawrence! We're going to be okay?"

"I wouldn't lie to you." he muttered back. Adam watched defeatedly as the doctor left the room, presumably to find help. He watched as the body in front of him came to, taking it's time gathering things and walking towards the door Lawrence had escaped though. He watched as the man spoke to him before shutting off the lights and locking him back in the room. He watched as he was left alone in the dark, screaming and crying, waiting for someone to come and release him from his personal hell.

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"Chris, I don't see why I have to do this." (Y/N)'s groaned out. The two were both in their collage's photography course, and had decided to help each other out on their current assignment. They were told to take photos of local rundown areas in an attempt to capture unusual beauty. Chris had taken the lead, taking (Y/N) to a part of town they had never been to.

In their search around the block, the two had stumbled upon an abandoned building. It outsides weren't to disheveled so Chris brought up the idea of going inside and trying to find any scenes that would show the story of whoever lived here before.

"Dude, imagine what shit was left behind. There could be whole living set ups that would be perfect for what the professor wants." Chris responded.

"Are we really gonna risk our lives for these photos, though?" (Y/N) asked.

Chris removed one hand off of his camera, letting it weigh down a bit more on his neck, and slapped (Y/N) on the back of their head "Oh, shut up. We're not gonna die, idiot." Chris laughed out. He placed his hand back on his camera and moved his shoulder out, nudging his friend.

"If you say so." (Y/N) walked forwards, making their way towards the back door of the abandoned house. "But you're walking in front the entire time."

Chris let out a laugh and stepped in front, guiding (Y/N) into the building. "Yeah, yeah." The duo made their way through the building, pushing past cobwebs and old sheets. The two friends uncomfortable glanced around, seeing boarded up windows and gross looking floorboards.

"Chris, maybe we should go, man." (Y/N) muttered, stepping around a broken chair.

"Don't be a wuss, just come on." Chris moved into the next room, walking around and taking pictures as he went. (Y/N) followed behind, going along with him as they made their way throughout the entire house. Each room was a little more disgusting than the last. Glass from the windows was broken, floors and carpets were stained, furniture was broken and flipped. Everything had obviously not been used in years, and Chris was having the time of his life getting pictures. (Y/N) would take a few every few rooms, but didn't take half as many as their friend.

They made their way to the last room of the house, finding the door opened, unlike most of the other rooms, and it empty other than the giant safe inside. "Holy shit." Chris muttered, snapping a picture. After getting the picture he moved forward, taking a good look at the safe. "Hey, look at this." he motioned for (Y/N) to step forward. They did, taking the spot next to him.

"What?" they asked.

"Underneath the safe, look." he spoke again.

Glancing down, (Y/N) saw what looked to be like the outline of a door underneath the safe. "What the...."

"Here, help me move this." Chris took off his camera, set it a few feet away, and started pushing the safe away from it's current position. (Y/N) was quick to join him, placing their camera near his, and going back to push it too. Once the safe had been pushed away, the duo took in the trap door, looking at it cautiously. "Well shit." he mumbled.

"C'mon, help me open it up." (Y/N) hesitantly asked, making sure to grab their camera before hand.

"What?" came from their friend. "Weren't you the one that didn't want to enter the building in the first place?"

"Yeah, well now it's getting weird, and I'm curious, so stop being a bitch and help me." they responded. Chris moved towards the trap door, and the two fiddled with it for a few minuets before finally unlodging it. "There we go..." (Y/N) grinned. The two pushed the door open, and glanced down into it. (Y/N) took a picture into the vast darkness, causing it's flash to brighten up the space. "C'mon...."

The duo took off down the hatch, taking photos along the way to give themselves light. Each flash gave them a glimpse of the dingy and cobweb filled halls, and helped them find their way around. "Hey, (Y/N), why don't we just head back?" Chris mumbled.

"No man," they turned to their friend and took a picture at him, letting the flash hit his eyes. "If you wanna go back, just wait for me at the trap door. I want to look around."

Chris huffed out an exhausted sigh and nodded before turning back the way they came. "Listen dude, just don't take to long. We've still gotta' take these to my dark room and get them ready for the deadline." Chris shook his camera as he spoke and gave them a cautious grin, then took off back to the hatch.

(Y/N) watched their friend leave before snapping a picture and continuing on their walk. The young adult stumbled around, going up and down halls, looking for anything unusual or interesting.

(Y/N) walked around for a while before finally making it to a dead end. As they went to turn, taking one last picture, they noticed that something was different about the wall. It's color was different in comparison to the walls they had been passing for the past little while, although it was obvious that it had been crafted in an attempt to keep it hidden. "What the....?" They stepped forward, taking another photo. At the left edge of the door they noticed a small and dusty handle. Reaching forward, (Y/N) lightly pulled at the handle, but hurriedly retracted their hand when feeling a gross sticky substance. They let out a groan in disgust, wiped the mysterious gunk on their shirt, and went back for the handle. "Ewwww...." they whined as they put their hand back on it.

(Y/N) used both of their hands this time, pulling a bit harder. As the door opened, (Y/N) took one hand back, and brought it up to their camera. They hesitated for a second before clicking the shutter-release button. The flash went throughout he entire room, giving (Y/N) a somewhat decent look at the bathroom in front of them. They could tell it was just as gross and disheveled as the rest of the house - if not worse.

Taking another picture, (Y/N) looked more around the room, attempting to see more of their surroundings. In a small moment of growing curiosity, they stepped inside and felt around the nearby walls, hoping to find something useful. To (Y/N)'s surprise, they did. Their right hand grazed against a switch on the nearby wall, it's hard structure jutting out from the tiled wall. The photographer flipped the switch slowly, watching and waiting as each light flickered and turned on.

During their moment of distraction, (Y/N) missed the small figure in the corner that was curled in on itself. The figure, a young man, most likely their age, lifted his head slightly in (Y/N)'s direction. Although he was very much conscious, the man had been starved and hadn't been given water in days, causing his movements to be slow and small. A soft cough made it's way out of his throat as he attempted to get their attention, causing (Y/N)'s gaze to fall over to him.

"Holy shit..." At first glance, they took in his bloody shirt and chain-clad ankle. "Holy fucking shit!" The longer they looked at the man the more recognizable he became. For months his face had been on missing posters around New Jersey - 15 of them could be seen on every street corner, and once (Y/N) saw the sad older women putting them up, who they now assumed was his mother. Slowly stepping forward as to not scare the man, (Y/N) attempted to speak to him. "Hello? You're...." they paused, trying to remember the name on the posters, "Your're Adam, right?"

The man quickly nodded, his eyes still darting around as he adjusted to the new lighting. "Yea..." Adam's voice caught in his throat causing him to cough again.

"Okay, Adam. I'm.... listen, my friend is waiting on my upstairs, I'm gonna go get him and then I'll be back to save you, okay?" (Y/N)'s statement seemed to throw him into a panic. His weak body jerked a bit, and he found himself reaching up, a scared look on his face.

"No! Don't leave me! Please, don't leave me like he did!" he begged. Adam's arm flung out at (Y/N), hand open and pleading.

(Y/N), not having been expecting his reaction, stepped forwards to comfort Adam. "Hey, hey, it's just for a moment. I promise." This didn't ease Adam's pleas. From (Y/N)'s perspective, it seemed as if it almost made them worse. In a quick and mostly unpondered decision, (Y/N) dropped down near the hysterical man, and grabbed onto his reaching hand. "Adam, look at me."

Adam glanced forward at them, trying to hear them over his own worries. "I-" as he tried to speak, (Y/N) softly cut him off.

"Adam, I can't get this off you myself." they pointed towards the chain holding him to the bathroom pipes. "I'm just gonna step outside the door and yell for my friend Chris, okay? I'll be in your line of sight the whole time, and I'll have him call 911 for us. I'm gonna get you out of here Adam."

Softly releasing their grip on him, (Y/N) moved back towards the doorway, not missing the way his hand still lingered out where theirs's had been. (Y/N) took one last reassuring glance at Adam before stepping through the doorway. Once exiting the room, the photographer let out a sharp breath, and took a moment to collect themself before yelling for help. "Chris!" their yell echoed through the halls and they hoped it would be loud enough for him to hear.

Moments passed before (Y/N) heard the soft call of Chris yelling back. "Chris, I need you to call the police!"

"What?" came his quick responce.

"Call 911, Chris! I found someone down here! For fucks sake, just hurry!" they screamed. "Call an ambulance, just something!" Without waiting for a proper response, (Y/N) made their way back to Adam, hoping he was still okay. "Adam?" they softly spoke, walking back into the bathroom.

He was still where they left him - sitting up, back against the wall, arm lightly tugging at the chain. Carefully taking off their camera, (Y/N) moved back to him, sitting in the same spot they had been before. "Chris is getting help. We're getting you out of here." Adam's eyes lightly watered as he looked at his unexpected savior. "You're safe now, Adam."

Leaning next to his shaking body, (Y/N) grabbed onto his side and arms, attempting to give him any comfort possible. Adam's hands gripped onto (Y/N) in a similar manner, and tucked his head into their shirt. Quiet thank you's escaped his lips as he finally let himself relax after the weeks of torturous solitude and constant fear of whether or not he would be saved. The two sat quietly in the bathroom, holding onto each other. They didn't have to say anything in the moment, both just sharing an understanding that things would be getting better for Adam. He was now safe. He was now out of Jigsaw's clutches.

Slowly, in Adam's moment of calm, (Y/N) noticed his breath level out. Looking down, they could see his content expression and decided to let him have his moment of peaceful sleep as they waited for Chris and the police to show up. (Y/N)'s arms wrapped further around him, falling into the same sense of calmness. "Your safe now, Adam. Your safe...."

#reader insert #adam stanheight #adam faulkner stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw movies #saw franchise #saw series #saw 2004 #leigh whannell #sawposting #adam deserved better #fuck lawrence #original characters that have nothing to do with the saw movies but I needed them for plot.#photographer!reader #lawrence gordon #john kramer #horror fanfiction #say hi to chris

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casualpersonapersonpeach · 8 months

Note

I'm in terrible pain on my neck and and shoulder-blades, so I needed comfort from my favorite slashers. You know the pain you get on your neck and upper-back that you can hardly turn or rotate your head or lift your arms up without hurting yourself?

Well I was hoping if you can write where the slashers (Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, and your choice of slasher) help their S/O through the days with bad muscle joints (such as brushing their hair, lift heavy stuff, get them dressed, etc.) But the S/O whimpers a bit, not just in pain but how bad they felt for having their hubbies do this sort of labor for them. I can imagine that the slashers would have such big hearts.

Hey! I have experienced this a few times before. It's awful 😭. Sorry again it took me so long to get this done! I hope you enjoy !!!

Slashers nursing their injured S/O

Includes Jason Voorhees, Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, and a silent brother 💀 DISCLAIMER: i know u can't be with a silent brother but this is MY PAGE so Idc 😭💀 i can't be bothered trying to figure out the technicalities lol.

Jason Voorhees

It was 3 am when you screamed out in pain when you tried to roll onto your other side, and jason jolted to your side immediately.

There was such an intense pain in your neck, you could hardly move. So jason signs " What's the matter, love???! What's wrong??" He stares at you with anxious eyes.

You explain what's wrong in a few huffs. He finally understood. He can't recall if this is something he's ever experienced before, maybe when he was little and his mother, Pamela, would have taken such great care of him.

He thinks he should be attentive to you like his mother was to him, and he assures you anything you need he is willing to do in a heartbeat.

He allows you to sleep in, and as you awake in the late morning, you find jason sitting at your bed side with some herbal tea he mustered from the forest. He crawls to your side and signs "I'm going to sit you up, please tell me if it hurts. I promise I'll hold your head as gently as possible". He lifted you so slowly and gently as he rested you against his chest. With one hand he holds your head and the other guides the tea for you to sip as you please.

Jason is so worried about you. What if you get worse? He's too worried thinking the worst when you may have just pulled a muscle and need a rest day.

Once he knows you're done, he carries you so carefully into the bathtub, he thinks some warm water will help ease your muscles. After washing you, he wraps you in a towel and sits you in his lap as he gets a brush and combs through your wet hair slowly and methodically.

You let out a whimper and he freezes like a deer in headlights. "Did I hurt you darling??". "No, it just feels so nice. Thank you my love, you've been doing so much for me. I feel so bad about it". He signs back- "Don't be silly, it's not a burden for me, I just want to make sure you're okay".

Jason notices you start to get tired, so he gets your pyjamas and puts your clothing on for you, guiding your limbs so that he can do the work for you.

He lays you in bed and wraps you in as many furs and blankets as he can to help aid you and holds you so closely, in hopes to send you to sleep.

Bubba Sawyer

The day prior, you had been helping bubba out in the field. He insisted that you stay inside, away from the wretched texan heat, but to no avail.

You were helping bubba repair some fences along the property line and carrying some of the new wooden planks.

When you awoke the next day, you couldn't even move without being in so much pain. The wood was older and so heavy. Your shoulders felt like they were on fire. You felt so weak. Bubba knew the exact feeling, so when he heard you yelp in pain, it was almost like he didn't need to ask.

He blurted out a few sounds, and since you knew bubba so well, you could tell what he was saying through his behaviours, sounds and expressions. You mustered up enough strength to say "My neck, it's sore. I can't move".

Drayton didn't care that you were in pain, he demanded that you and bubba were to go back out in the fields. Bubba tried to stand up for you, but Drayton blew a fuse.

Bubba had come up with a plan to ensure you wouldn't have to lift a finger, and to keep his brothers rage at bay.

Bubba signals that he just needs a few minutes. He runs outside and grabs a sun chair, a tall pole and big umbrella, along with a beer crate with a cold drink of tea for you. He set up the chair with some pillows so you could rest and be protected from the heat.

Bubba lifts you carefully, and walks you out to his nice set up for you. He carefully places you down, and kneels beside you. He looks at you with so much love and affection.

You grunt as you adjust in your seat. "Thank you so much Baby. This means the world to me. I love you, but I can't help but feel guilty that you're doing all this work. And I'm just sitting here" He replies with sounds as what you could guess as "I love you too, baby. Rest up. I don't want you to worry".

Bubba didn't mention his third part of the plan. He wanted you to watch him out in the heat working hard, admiring him. While he got to show off and impress his dear s/o.

When the sun begun to set, and you had finished your cup of iced tea, bubba carries you back home. He promises he will get you a nice, hearty meal and get you to bed early. There wasn't anywhere else you wanted to be.

Thomas Hewitt

You were out on a walk in a forest nearby the farm with Thomas. You felt a slight pinch in your neck, so you stopped for a second. Thomas looked at you with concern as you reassured him "I'm alright, my necks just a little sore".

You two continued your hike till nightfall, you two cuddled up into bed and slept. You awoke at 12 am, feeling disoriented as you struggled to turn over. Thomas woke up and was a little confused but certainly concerned.

He held you and comforted you till you slept again. He always thought sleep was the best medicine. When it came to the morning, he realised that his methods of sleeping off pain didn't always work.

He started to feel guilty about trying to get you to sleep it off. He knows it was well intended, but he hated to imagine how much pain you were in. What if you thought he was dismissing you? He made a silent vow to make it up to you.

Thomas helped you shower. He wishes that the water cylinder was in better condition so the water wasn't so... Lukewarm. You barely noticed it since you were in so much pain anyways.

He leaned you against his body as he used the loofa on you, gently washing and caressing you. He had remembered something about lavender oil being relaxing, so after he dried you off, he decided to massage some onto your body.

He made an effort to pay special attention to your shoulders and your calf muscles.

You couldn't help but feel bad that he was doing so much for you, while also having to balance hard work and his.... less than conventional family.

"Thomas.. you really didn't have to do all of this for me. What If your uncles get upset at you?"

All he does is look at you, and shushes you. You know he only means to assure you it's okay. He will manage to shoulder it.

You fall asleep again to his touch. Once Thomas is certain you are comfortable in your slumber, he leaves the room to go about his daily chores. The only thing consuming his mind is you, hoping his efforts might have helped you recover, even just a little.

Michael Myers

Michael was on another one of his... late night hunts when you decided you should get some sleep. You woke up in the late afternoon, to Michael just sitting upright in your shared bed sneaking candy corn up his mask to eat.

The sight of your big, tough man so sneakily eating candy make you burst into laughter. He had seemed like a child sneaking into the lounge on early Christmas morning to open his presents much before anybody was awake.

Quickly that laughter turned into yelping in pain. The intensity of your laugh had awakened such an intense pain in your neck mainly, but also your shoulders and the rest of your body.

Michael was very confused at first. He thought you were just hiding some sort of gremlin laugh from him. But soon after he realised you were genuinely just in pain.

He quickly cradled your face, he wanted you to explain to him what was wrong. And after you had told him, he decided he needed to do anything about it.

He went to get you a glass of water. Would that help? He gently sat you up against him, reminding you to let him move you. He tried to feed you the glass of water, but this sort of thing (being affectionate) was so unfamiliar to him before you came into his life.

His body wasn't quite used to making such gentle and slow movements. It was almost like his fine motor skills were learning something so brand new.

Before he knew it, his hands were shaky and he spilt the water on your (his) shirt. He huffed in frustration. Why couldn't he do this? Surely it wasn't so hard. You assured him "It's okay Michael, you're just trying to help me. Trust me it's okay".

Michael is the most stubborn person (or thing?) to exist ever, so it took him a while to stop pouting and swallow his pride. He realised he needed to get you out of that wet shirt though.

He gestured that he would change your clothes. He lifted off your shirt, wiped you down and gently put a fresh shirt on you. Hey, would you look at that. He's finally getting the hang of this.

Though he wouldn't let anybody live if they had witnessed soft michael. Only you get to see this side of him.

Michael got some of his favourite candies from his secret stash he never shared. But how could he resist this time?. You were in pain, and maybe this would help since you couldn't really do too much today, or maybe even for the next few days.

He handed you the plate, and you could tell that there was a childish grin on his face.

"oh Michael, you shouldn't have. This is so sweet of you.. I'm sorry I'm not of much help right now" Michael just put a finger to your lips to shush you.

He promised he'd take care of all the chores, and cooking while you needed to recover. Worry not my sweet one.

The Silent Brother

LMAO THIS ONE IS NOT A SLASHER IK ITS JUST FOR MY OWN FAN SERVICE 💀💀💀

You were visiting your lover in secret. Well, only you thought it was going to be secret, the silent brothers can read your mind anyways.

You found the secret entrance to their layer in the city of bones, so you walked in quietly. You were beginning to feel light headed and this continuous pinch in your neck.

You thought nothing of it and traveled lower into the chambers to see your lover. All of the brothers knew what was going on. And not that they couldn't approve of it, they didn't really see themselves getting in between you two. That was for their brother to decide if this is truly part of his will.

You run to him and embrace him, and he stands there so stiff and awkwardly, he wraps his arms around you.

It's not that he doesn't enjoy this, it's just such a forgotten sensation. He had sacrificed so many parts of his humanity, so he didn't think much of these mortal affections.

You tell him that you just wanted to see him. But in the back of your mind, you're wondering why this annoying pain isn't going away. And you begin to wonder why it keeps growing more intense.

He reads your mind, and speaks to you telekinetically, in such a husky voice. "You've done something to your neck I presume. Do not worry. I will take care of this".

He leads you to an empty room and guides you to sit down. He raises his scarred hands to your neck and uses some healing magic to help you. "It'll take half of an hour to work. Just sit here with me until you feel better my love".

You sigh and lean into him, as he wraps an arm around you. Being with somebody like him was so strange. He had so little of his humanity left in him. He seemed cold, less emotional and like he was so out of this realm.

But that's what you really loved about him. He was mysterious and otherworldly. No one could compare to a creature like him. He was the most interesting being you ever laid your eyes on.

And he was strangely attentive, in his own way of course. It just enticed you further and further down this spiral with him. All that you knew is that you deeply loved each other. And how love can be shown in such different, and strange ways.

#jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #friday the 13th #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #the texas chainsaw massacre #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween movie #slashers #horror #horror fanfiction #slasher fanfiction

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bitches-who-write · 9 months

Note

may I request how the gang would react to you checking on them from time to time?? I imagine bowers would just give a wtf look but like he learns to grow on it and b would just find it sweet, but he would never say it out loud

Henry:

Henry is really confused by your act of kindness of checking in on him.

When you first started checking in on him asking how he’s doing, how he’s been feeling, if he needs anything, etc., he doesn’t know how to respond.

He’s not used to anyone really caring about him, especially in his personal life/home life.

In the beginning, Henry would get angry with your constant checking in.

In a weird way, it made him feel emasculated.

Henry takes anything associated with showing your feelings as a huge sign of weakness. And that’s the last thing he wants to be is weak.

Don’t take it personally but he’ll most likely yell at you to stop asking him questions especially if you’re doing it in front of the other guys.

One on one is a different story, however .

If you guys are sitting in the open field outside of his house, he’ll open up to you a little more.

Usually he catches himself opening up too much and begins to backpedal.

”Why the fuck do you care anyways?! Doesn’t even matter!”

After he explodes at you and you’re both sitting in silence, he’ll put his arm around your shoulder.

He’ll never say thank you, but take this small act of kindness as his appreciation.

Belch:

He’s very confused why you’re suddenly asking him questions.

Luckily for Belch, his family is pretty close. As much as he complains about it, his mom makes them all eat dinner together so they can all ‘talk as a family’.

So because he has a good home life, these types of questions aren’t too uncommon.

However, it confuses and weirds him out when it comes from somebody outside of his family.

When you keep asking how he’s doing and how he’s been feeling, he starts to get concerned.

“Why do you keep asking me this, Y/N? Do you know something that I don’t? Am I dying???

“Holy shit, Vic! I might be dying!”

This dude can be pretty dramatic.

Once you reassure him that he’s not dying, he calms down and casually answers your questions.

He always asks you the same in return, genuinely smiling when you tell him about your day.

Belch grows fond of these daily conversations with you.

Patrick

Listen, Patrick isn’t a normal guy and we can’t stress this enough.

He has a pretty dissociative personality and doesn’t express a lot of personal feelings unless it’s on his terms.

Usually when you check in on him he’s weary.

Always thinking there’s an alternative motive behind your questions.

You can tell that he’s trying to process and think ahead.

If he’s feeling extra cheeky, he’ll usually give you a smart ass answer.

You just can’t do anything nice for the guy because he doesn’t appreciate it.

Again.. boyfriend material? Absolutely not. But do we all simp for him? Absolutely.

Vic:

Similar to Belch, he finds it enduring.

He’s another one who’s not used to getting attention.

Vic is a quiet guy who keeps to himself so he can easily be overlooked.

He tries not to smile when you acknowledge him and ask him how he’s feeling or check in on him in general.

Honestly, the more you check in on him,the more comfortable he gets around you.

Vic doesn’t catch feelings super easily but this is one way to win him over.

Unlike Henry, he’s not afraid to share his soft side with you.

And because he’s usually so quiet in groups, when you get him one on one, he won’t shut the hell up.

Getting back to the whole catching feelings thing … don’t be surprised if he ends up falling for you because of your sweet personality.

Thanks for the request @impossibleheartflower

We hope you enjoyed!🖤

#headcanons #henry bowers #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #imagines #victor criss x reader #bowers gang #it 2017 #itmovie #belch huggins x reader #it fanfiction #horror fanfiction

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kiss-theggoat · 10 months

Text

Bluebonnets Pt. 2

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You’ve been in the Hewitt household for a few months now, and things between you and Tommy are starting to get more serious. You realize you're ready for the next level, but is he?

Tw: Loss of Virginity (both F and M), Smut

A/N: Again, I apologize if some of the characters are a little out of character! I hope you enjoy!

The towel beneath you blocked your skin from the dry, scratchy grass you laid upon in the front yard, skin covered in expired sunscreen that you could only pray was keeping you from becoming a crisp. You were content here at this moment. The light breeze brought a sweet scent from the dry trees, cooling you down while still providing you with the warmth from the sun, nestled between thin fluffy clouds and a pretty blue sky. Even though this area was dusty and old, you felt like you were at a five star resort in Maui.

Everyone was in town today except for you and Thomas, but like usual, Thomas was messing around with his things in the basement. You liked being down there with him, but after so long, you had to get out of there and spend some time in the fresh air. You had long discarded your shirt, left in a bra and jean shorts. You’d never lay out like this if Hoyt was home, but with him gone, you felt safe to be shirtless without being ogled by unwelcome eyes.

The sound of a door shutting caused you to sit up, squinting through your sunglasses to see your big hunk of a boyfriend walking out of his house towards you. “Hi Tommy!” You said excitedly, waving at him.

He waved a few times back even though by the time he stopped waving, he’d reached your towel and plopped down into the grass. He seemed tired, which made you frown. You felt a pang of guilt. Knowing that he felt like he always needed to keep busy. You wanted him to feel like he could relax, just like you’d been doing this morning. There was nothing important to do today, so why not let him unwind a little bit?

You stood up, walked to his back and knelt behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest against his back. “Why don’t you lay down for a bit, hm? The sun feels nice. It’s not too warm today.” You tucked a piece of his stray, sweaty hair behind his ear. “Probably cooler than down in the basement.”

He looked at the towel you were laying on and then back at you, giving you a defeated glance. He’d known you long enough to know that he was going to be laying down, whether he wanted to or not. He moved onto the towel and slowly laid onto his back, and you cringed at the sound of his bones popping. You can’t imagine the way he ached all the time. “Jeez, Tommy…” you sighed, moving closer to him.

Even though the scratchy grass was making your bare legs itch, you couldn’t care less as you reached up to place one hand on his shoulder. “Lay on your stomach.” You said, smiling at him. He complied, easily flipping over with another couple cracks.

You straddled his waist, feeling his body tense up at your presence, but you knew he’d relax. You bent forward and began to rub his shoulders and lower neck with your thumbs, applying ample pressure. His back felt like a rock, and you knew this probably hurt a little, but it’d feel good eventually.

You kneaded the knots out of his muscles and felt him relax bit by bit, until finally when you looked at his face, his eyes were shut and his body was loose. You finally made it to his lower back and hip area, ending your little impromptu massage. It stead you opted to lay down atop him, eyes closed as you listened to his steady breathing and heartbeat. You wondered for a second if you might be crushing him, but you knew that if you were, he’d find a polite way to tell you, and that he loves when you lay on him anyways.

Your relationship with Thomas started off rocky. You had known he was a kind soul, but seeing a man alternate between a leather muzzle and a human face wasn’t exactly the relaxing stability a woman wants. You’d eventually gotten used to it, and getting used to turned to falling for, and falling for turned to completely in love. You were infatuated with Thomas, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him anymore. Even though life here was really difficult sometimes, he made it worth it.

You heard a content sigh leave his mouth and you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “Tommy?” You asked softly.

He let you know he heard you by slightly lifting his head.

“Can we go inside? I want to make us some lunch.”

He nodded once and you rolled off of him, watching him stand up from where you lay on the ground. He held a hand out to you, one you gladly took, and walked with him back to the house in a blissful silence.

You walked inside and straight to the kitchen, really craving any sort of food. You decided on simple turkey sandwiches, and you made yourself one, just how you like it, and you made Thomas two, just how he likes them. You handed him his food and sat on the counter, facing away. That’s how you’d eaten together for the past few months. Facing away from each other. You hated it. You’d only seen his face twice, and you constantly tell him you think he’s perfect, but he never takes his mask off.

You scarf down your sandwich, but all you can think about is the fact that your sweet, loving boyfriend is sitting behind you, convinced that he is so ugly he has to eat facing away from you. It breaks your heart every time you think about it, and you decide you need to bring it up again.

You set your plate down, swinging your feet from the counter. “Thomas. Are you done?”

He steps in front of you. Plate empty and mask on.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nods quickly. You know that means ‘of course!’ in Thomas' language, and you feel a little bad knowing that you’re about to make him uncomfortable.

“Can I kiss you?”

He stared at you, eyes focused on yours, body so still that you would’ve been convinced you were staring at a photograph. He slowly began to shake his head and look down to the floor, but you grabbed either side of his head softly, making him maintain eye contact.

“Please, Tommy? I promise you, I will never, ever judge you for what you look like. I’ll always think you’re handsome, okay? Please.”

You felt horrible staring into his eyes. It’s almost like you could see the panic and horror in them, all of the years of bullying and hatred and rejection replaying on tiny projectors inside his head, cast to you through his eyes.

He slowly raised his arms around to the back of his head, buckle clinking as he undid it. You smiled, unable to hold back your excitement. You were finally going to kiss the man you loved. Something you’d been wanting to do for months now.

His head was angled down, face enough you couldn’t see his face as his mask came off in his hands. He stared at it for a second before he looked up at you, a scared expression still on his face. You looked at him, finally all of him, and you couldn’t look away. You grinned, cheeks flushed and eyes bright as you studied his face. He was so handsome. A true pretty boy.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. The kiss felt a little bit different than anyone you’d kissed before, but you couldn’t care less. For the first few seconds, you’d have bet money that you were kissing a statue. But finally you felt his hands around your waist and his lips began to love against yours, he was getting into it. You wrapped a leg around his, you being on the counter gave you an advantage and put you around his midsection. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer, reveling in how good his arms felt around your waist.

One of your hands went from around his neck down to brace yourself against his chest, palm flat against his sturdy frame. The other hand slowly made its way up into his hair, gently stroking it as he did the same to the skin on your mid back. You pulled back, looking him in the eye, a dazed look on both of your faces. You didn’t expect the kiss to feel like that, and based on how he looked, he didn’t either. You both felt dizzy, like something had entered directly into your bloodstream.

“You’re beautiful, Tommy. I love you.” You whispered, gently running your thumb along his cheekbone. You looked at him with eyes full of love. He didn’t respond, in true Thomas fashion, instead he did something rather bold. He pressed his lips against yours again, harder this time. More demanding. You had no trouble reciprocating, both legs now wrapped around his body, barely able to hook around him.

His hands trailed a bit lower and rested on your lower back, taking up all the skin that resided there. You ran your tongue along his lips, to which he gladly responded to, doing the same and you deepened the kiss, practically sticking your tongue down his throat.

You held onto the hair at the base of his neck with both hands now, holding him as if he were about to blow away. His hands quickly left your back and moved to your shoulders, very gently pushing you off of him. You felt horrible, questions running through your head. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, are you uncomfortable?” You asked quickly. The last thing you’d want to do is violate his boundaries.

He quickly shook his head, staring down at his feet with a shameful look on his face.

“What is it then?” You asked, a hand gently touching the side of his face. “Never kissed anyone before?” You smiled.

He looked up at you with an embarrassed expression and slowly shook his head.

“That’s okay…” you said softly. “I’ve never…” you stopped yourself. If he’s never kissed someone, sex isn’t even on his radar. You don’t want to take things too far right now and scare him off. “Nevermind.”

He grabbed your hand softly and gave you a look, urging you to continue your sentence.

“I… well I was going to say that I’ve never…had sex before. But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I want to do things on your time.”

If this was any other situation, you would’ve laughed at how fast his cheeks turned pink. He stared at you, face red and eyes wide, completely still for a couple seconds. Those seconds felt like agony, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d ruined everything with him.

It felt like he read your thoughts and wanted to put them at ease because right after you said that to yourself, his hands slowly came back to you, resting on your upper thighs, near your hips. You looked up at him quickly, excitement coursing through your veins. “Are you…I mean…Do you want to?”

He toyed with the loose thread on your shorts for a second before he nodded. You damn near squealed with excitement, hopping off of the counter and grabbing his hands. “Let’s go to the guest room. The bed’s softer than the one in the basement.”

He didn’t respond, mostly because you didn’t give him the chance. You led him upstairs into the barely used bedroom, the one occasionally used for storing a stray victim. You captured his lips in a kiss again, slowly easing him down onto the bed and climbing into his lap. He reluctantly put his hands on your mid back, holding you just as gently as he normally does.

You smiled against his lips, reaching back to grasp his hands. You slid them down your own waist, stopping only when they rested on your ass. With his hands off of your waist, it freed you to take your bra off, which you happily did. You thought that Thomas might drool, eyes transfixed on your chest and lips slightly parted.

You ran your hands up his chest to the collar of his shirt, toying with the button there. “Can I?” You asked quietly, joy exploding inside of your chest when he nodded. You undid his shirt and slid it off of him, admiring his broad chest and arms. He was just your type.

You ran your hands all over his bare chest and he started to find a little bit of confidence with you. It made you so happy to feel his fingertips trail under the surface of your shorts, teasing your thighs and exposing more of them. He slowly traced the side seam up to the waistline, where he stilled completely. You nodded. “Please…take them off.” You said breathlessly.

He unbuttoned your shorts with unsteady fingers, and you had to stand to slide them off. As you stood, he slid himself further to the center of the bed, leaning against the headboard. You crawled back up, looking up at him for permission to take his pants off, which he quickly granted you.

Now, you figured that even though you were both virgins, there was still a significant skill difference. You were no stranger to porn and masturbation before you got here, and you had a feeling that Thomas definitely was.

“I’m going to take my underwear off. Is that okay?” You asked, watching him closely. He nodded, staring at your every move. You slid your panties down your thighs, tossing them onto the ground beside your shorts. “Can I take yours off?” You asked again. This time, he hesitated for a second. “That’s okay.” You said softly, figuring that you’d use that time to warm up more first.

You straddled him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss again. You held the sides of his face with your hands, trapping him in a passionate kiss that you put your all into. As you kissed him, you very slowly and subtly began to circle your hips, grinding against him through his underwear. You separated, moving down, placing kisses to his chin, then down his jaw and neck, and finally at his chest, sucking kisses and bite barks and licking his skin there. He was alternating between watching you and closing his eyes with his head leaned back and his hands slowly moved up, finding your bare hips. He held them still tightly, but not out of a want for you to stop, but a need for you to stop.

You smirked against his chest and pulled back, staring into his glazed over eyes with pride in your chest. You stayed still like that for a moment before he nodded at you, slipping a finger beneath his own underwear. You got off of him for a moment and watched him slide his underwear down to about mid thigh.

You would’ve paid to see your face at the moment, because you weren’t sure what you’d expected. You were dating a man who was almost 6 foot 7, 300 lbs and could lift you like you were a feather. His cock definitely fit his build. You felt a little bit more nervous now and you felt like this definitely leveled the playing field.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay with this?” You asked, your one last consent check. He nodded the quickest you’d ever seen him nod, making you giggle a bit.

You quickly straddled his lap again, and you couldn’t believe the view. His silky brown hair, soft and wavy, fell in front of pretty brown eyes like pools of honey, accentuating his unique face that seemed like it was sculpted by gods just for you. You placed your hands on broad shoulders, bracing yourself as you lifted your hips, one hand going between you two to guide him inside you.

The searing sting turned into a dull ache as you slowly eased yourself down onto his cock, your face scrunched up in discomfort, the direct opposite expression from Thomas’. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, jaw slack and cheeks pink and slick with sweat. His head pushed back against the headboard slightly, and you couldn’t help but feel like bragging to someone about this. You’d barely moved and he was already needy.

You very slowly began to circle your hips, trying to adjust to his size. His hands flew to your hips, wrapping around your body almost completely and gripping your hard. Your hands were still planted firmly on his chest as you slowly lifted yourself off of him, thighs trembling with the struggle. He helped you a bit by lifting you up slightly.

A few more of these and you were whining in bliss instead of pain, the dull ache had gone away and been replaced with a pleasure deep inside of you that you knew only he could reach. His cock stretched you in a way that was just right, and you weren’t sure if sex always felt like this but you were damn sure glad it did. Your legs shook and your fingernails dug into his chest, leaving red marks in their wake.

His hands squeezed your hips tight enough to bruise as he guided you down onto his cock, helping you bounce at your own pace even if he felt the urge to fuck you like an animal right then and there. If Thomas was one thing it was a gentleman and he wasn’t going to do something you weren’t okay with. He watched your cute little face scrunch up and turn red as you tightened around him in all the right ways, and it took everything in him to keep from busting on the spot.

You couldn’t help but let out loud moans, whiny and breathy. It felt like you were a woman possessed, bouncing uncontrollably and not being able to control your voice or your face. Thomas’ eyes were glazed over, intensely watching your tits bounce above him. If this was heaven, he was okay with dying tomorrow.

“Holy shit…Thomas…” you moaned, not even noticing the fact that you’d drawn blood on his left shoulder with your scratching. “I…I’m gonna cum…” you whined.

Thomas could’ve cried he was so happy. He could finally let go just after you. He grabbed your hips and made the executive decision to slam you down against him, taking more control of you. The noise that left you was music to his ears, loud and high pitched and beautiful. You held onto him for dear life as he moved you like you weighed nothing, but thanked him for giving your thighs a break.

Your orgasm came on fast and strong. You clenched around his cock, eyes squeezing shut and mouth hanging open as a litany of cuss words left your mouth. Not even seconds later, Thomas slammed you down against him one last time, cumming deep inside you with heaving breaths, eyes closed and head thrown back against the headboard.

You both stayed still, intertwined and limp against each other. You panted, head against his chest with your eyes closed. Thomas slowly started to pet your head, smoothing your staticy hair. As you opened your eyes, you saw the blood on Thomas’s shoulder, along with multiple other raised scratch marks. You gasped and sat up, covering your mouth. “Tommy, I’m so sorry…” you said, reaching down to gently touch one of the scratches.

Thomas smiled a bit and shrugged. It was obvious he didn’t care about the marks, in fact, he liked it. He liked knowing he made you feel good. You both were happy.

“Would y’all shut the fuck up already?!”

You jumped out of your skin and up off of the bed, gathering your clothes as Thomas did the same.

“When the fuck did Hoyt get home?”

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #horror fanfiction #slasher x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #leatherface

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psychwxrdd · 2 months

Note

MORE STEP BRO DONNIE IM BEGGINGGGGGG

so sorry for taking long sweetheart, i've been working on a lot of requests but i'm really hating everything i write lately. you guys have so many good ideas i wanna write about all of them, at some point i swear i will, just need to work on this because i want it to be good. donnie makes me so inspired y'all can send any requests about him whenever y'all want to !!

Rumours

Summary: Donnie, your step brother, takes you to Middlesex "most haunted house" on Hallowen's night, where apparently, a terrible case of murder happened. He wants to play with Ouija Board. You always believed in demons and evil itself, but never would've imagine it to come this close to you.

masterlist

Warnings: Horror, Demonic Possession, Supernatural themes, Ouija Board, Domestic Violence, Murder, Non Con, 18+

english is not my first language btw, always apologize for any mistakes!

do not read this if any of the warnings makes you feel uncomfortable or triggered. i explore horror, grotesque and dark themes, if you can't stand it, just don't read PLEASE

"Are you sure this won't get us in trouble?" You hissed, already regretting for even suggesting the house near Donnie. You knew he was a freak, knew he would have some stupid idea and he would persuade you to do it, in one way or another. Hands sweating, heart anxious and a belly ache. Felt like you'd die at any second with so much panic.

"Trust me, we're gonna have fun, it's much better than if we just went to some boring party, you wouldn't have a story to tell your kids." He tapped the back of your head and you sighed. You were finally in front of the so called haunted house.

It didn't looked awful, not at all, it was pretty preserved. The rumours said the crime happened back in the late 60s or early 70s, a couple used to live there with their only children. Not a child, actually, probably a teenager or a young adult, you weren't quite sure which one was the "true" history - If anything really did in fact happen, so many different versions were told. They were italians apparently, and the dad was an alcoholic, violent man. You even heard a version telling there was a sister but that she had depression and tried to kill herself, so he send her to a mental hospital. Not because he cared, he didn't wanted people to associate her to them.

Then one day, while his wife and son were sleeping, he woke up and shoot them both. He told the authorities it was the house, that "they told him to do it ", and since they moved in his behaviour had changed completely, making him act like a mad man. No one ever told you the end, what could have possibly happened to him; Was he arrested? Checked in a mental hospital for insanity? Did anyone took it seriously, the possibilty of a possession?

But again, it was just a urban legend. Just some history to tell to your friends in school and make them hold their pee because they are too scared to walk to the bathroom alone. It was stupid to consider and fear this.

"You're coming?" Donnie asked and you blinked, realizing you were thinking too much about it, more than you should. At your big age, shouldn't be so scared of ghost stories.

"Yeah."

"Y'know i won't let anything bad happen to you, first noise and we run as fast as we can" He reassured you, cleaning the Ouija Board with a piece of his shirt. You just nod, too nervous to reply. "Hey, look, we can leave if you're really scared"

"No...I'm not a coward." You tried to act confident.

He opened the door, a sharp sound ringing through the empty, big place. It was definetly very old, smelled like something rotting, something left behind for enough time to be forgotten.

"Shit" Donnie muttered. His eyes scanning the whole living room, a bit amazed. If the family stuff was true, then they were surely rich and europeans in fact. He couldn't help but feel disturbed by the slight different tone of colors next to the window, it didn't looked just dirty, it looked like something you can not wash away, something penetrated permanently. Like when you break a glass of grape juice and take too long to clean, like you slept for days and forgot it there.

You were too tense to dive on it, tho. You didn't wanted to think about what was that, maybe just some other dumb teenagers who got inside the house to drink, do drugs or have sex. It could be anything really.

"C'mon, let's do it Donnie"

"What a badass" He smiled, teasing. You just rolled your eyes.

"Should we do it right here or upstairs?"

"I don't know if those stairs are trustable"

"Or are you just scared?"

This time, Donnie stared at you with an annoyed look, making you laugh.

"I don't fear anything."

"Yeah, sure" You crossed your arms. "I wanna see the bedrooms."

Sighing, he just agreed. Very carefully stepping ground by ground, afraid of it might breaking all of sudden. You held his arm, strongly, more scared of falling than of any ghost.

In fact, the house was very big, you would easily live here - if you had the money to afford it in perhaps another life. The first room was probably the guests one. Following to two big bathrooms, one with a bathtub, and more five rooms. It was hard to guess which one could had possibly belonged to any of them. Again, maybe there weren't any of "them".

"Look at this" Donnie grabbed your wrist, and you felt your mouth opening. That room belonged to a teenager, for sure.

Bowie, Morrison, Nick Drake, MLB and Sharon Tate's posters on the wall, cars and trucks miniatures, organized shells of books... Someone surely used to live there.

"You think his ghost will curse us if we steal some...?" He asked, and you tapped his arm.

"Shut up" You were still curious about everything, but mostly, you were paralized by the fear that hit you once you realized maybe the rumours were true after all. "We're playing it here"

He widened his eyes. "...Okay"

"Whats the stare for?"

"I just don't think it's a good idea, you know, if this was really the son's room and if the history is true, we're being hella disrespectful"

You chuckled, sarcastically.

"Are you fucking serious? Donnie this was your idea! It doesn't matter which place from the house, we're already here for only one reason, that would be disrespectful at anywhere!"

He sighed. You wanted to punch him in the face.

"Yeah, but-"

"Cut the "but", don't be a fucking coward!"

Darko's face went to a blank expression. "Okay, i'm not a fucking coward."

You sat on the floor, no longer wasting time. He followed you.

"You know the rules, don't you?" He asked in a serious tone, you nodded. "Answer with words"

"Yes, i know the rules!" You noticed how tense he was by the mood swing.

"Once we start this, you can not leave, not take your finger off of the board, you have to be focused, alright?"

"Alright" you breathed, heavily. You kind of wanted to cry, you didn't even really wanted this in the beggining, Donnie convinced you. Then he gets scared and regret and now he's dead serious, it did something to your brain. You felt like you were about to have a panic attack at any second.

The silence was bothering you, way too much. You wanted to turn your head and stare at the door every 5 seconds, but you couldn't. The only sound in the room was you and Donnie's heavy breath.

"I start" He explained. You just stared at him, your fingers were holding so tight against the board you saw it was white. "Try to control the shaking hands"

You tried your hardest, but it was almost impossible. You were too nervous, even your chin was creaking a bit.

"Dear spirits, we want to talk. Is there any spirit in the room with us right now?"

Nothing.

"Is anyone else here?"

Nothing.

Your hands both stood there, not moving for anything in this world - and out of this world, mostly. Still, nothing happened.

"Is any spirit in the room willing to talk to us right now?"

Then, it moved. It fucking moved. You felt your whole body tingling, your heart beating faster and your hands felt cold. It couldn't be really happenin, could it?

You knew - felt - Donnie was also scared as hell, but he was stronger than you, he tried to be. He wanted to show you he would protect you, that "he had no fear". Fear is not what move us as human beings, he hated that idea.

"Now that you're in the room with us, please, tell us your name"

Your hands both moved to random letters. It didn't made any sense, it seemed like just a bunch of non sense words. You were quick to come with one, it was "bowshed".

You were both paralized in fear, you could feel Donnie's hand sweating.

"How did you died?"

Again, the hands moved to random letters. The same letters. "bowshed".

You could tell Donnie was trying hard to figure out what word was that, what the hell did that meant.

"When did you died?"

The hands moved to the numbers over the board. "31/10/1973"

Your eyes were filled with tears, but you breathed and swallowed, you had to be brave.

"What do you want?" Donnie asked, and you stared at him with wide eyes. The wasn't exactly a proper question to ask to a ghost you invoked, probably.

"Donnie, what are you doing?"

He then took his hands off of the board, all of sudden, standing up, moving towards you so quickly you thought it was inhuman. He grabbed you by the throat.

"Don-" You struggled to finish, chocking on his strong hands "Donnie..."

There was something different about his eyes. It didn't looked dark, or red, or any other color. But it looked like someone else's eyes. It wasn't Donnie, it looked so weird, so disturbing. If it wasn't for his hands on your neck, you would scream in fear.

"Who invited you, bitch?" He hollered, you smelled alcohol and weed on his breath. "Huh?"

His veins were popping out of his forehead in anger, his face looked red.

"Cat got your tongue?" He threw you on the floor and you desperatedly cried and gasped for air, crawling backwards in direction to the door. But before you could get there, you heard it slamming hard.

Donnie, or whoever was that, kept staring at you. He took his belt off, and you frozed, crying hysterically. You were ready to feel the pain against your skin, but then you heard a woman screaming.

You opened your eyes, and the scene in front of you made you feel chills all over your body; Donnie was smiling at you. Not the usual smiles he gave you, this was sinister. You just wanted to run to your mom now, you were in fact a coward, it didn't mattered.

You heard now also the sound of what it seemed to be a boy crying, it was horrible to hear. There was blood all over the floor, you couldn't tell where was it coming from.

Then he suddenly grabbed you, turning you around and pressing your face agaisnt the floor. This couldn't be happening. He sat upon you, lifting your dress up and beating the belt on your ass.

"Gotta teach you some manners, whore. Teach you to not fucking get to whats none of your business"

He hitted, again. Again. Again. Again. The more he hitted you, the more you heard the woman voice's screaming. You never wished so bad to have a nightmare, you wanted this all to be nothing more than a nightmare.

"Please, stop..." You begged, sobbing.

You heard him unzipping his pants. No, no, no, this wasn't happening. You were not there.

"What did you do to Donnie?" you cried, "Where is my brother, what have you done to him?"

He said nothing, only putting your panties to the side and spitting on your clit. He rubbed slowly, and your body reacted slightly, as terrible as it sounds.

He placed himself inside you, and you screamed at his size. "Thats it, my little step sis" You frozed, how the fuck did that thing knew that?

You cried and he held your hair with one hand, pounding into you like you were just as inhuman as him. The pain started to feel like pleasure, somehow, maybe it was just your body protecting you. You never felt so terrified, ever, this was all unreal, this was an horror movie.

It wasn't a movie. It was your life.

"He is dead" He mumbled. "Bloodshed"

Your eyes grew wide. "What...What did you just..."

"Bloodshed. They are all dead."

#donnie darko x reader #donnie darko x yn #donnie darko x you #donnie x reader #donnie x y/n #donnie x you #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #horror #ouija board #dark fanfiction #horror fanfiction #supernatural #stepbro! donnie #stepbro! donnie darko

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flowerandblood · 5 months

Text

The Man in the Black Mask Series Masterslit

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, virginity loss, violence, assassination and suicide attempt, mention of the murder of multiple people, descriptions of murders ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Lady Walford Crown & Coronation Gown Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard Series Theme Song + Lyrics

Part 1 | The Man in the Black Mask

Part 2 | The Man with the Empty Heart

Part 3 | The Man with the Lost Soul

Part 4 | The Man with the Cold Lips

Part 5 | The Man with the Deep Scar

Part 6 | The Man with the One Eye

Part 7 | The Man with the Golden Gift

Part 8 | The Man in the Black Crown

Part 9 | The Man with the Bloody Sword

Part 10 | The Man in the Black Gloves

Part 11 | The Man in the Death Coat

Part 12 | The Man with the Pearly Hair

Part 13 | The Man with the Fiery Gaze

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spookychick78 · 1 year

Text

Ghostface One Shot

Warnings: SMUT 18+, choking, lottts of knife play, language, rough sex

Word Count: 3,366

Work was such a drag, you were more than happy to be in for the night. You closed the door to your bedroom and threw your bag into the corner. You sat down at the edge of the bed and ran your hands through your hair with a sigh. A breeze blew into the room and you turned to see the curtains dancing in the wind. You were glad you'd left your window open, it at least ensured the room stayed cool. You began to lie down, but just before your head met the pillow, your phone rang.

"God, what now?" You mumbled to yourself as you sat back up to dig through your bag.

You fingers finally found it and you quickly lifted it to see it was an unknown caller. You rolled your eyes and pressed decline. Just before you set it back down, it rang again. The same words appeared on the screen and you narrowed your eyes. Telemarketers didn't usually call twice. You decided to take a chance and answer it, expecting some collect caller on the other end.

"Hello?" You said, annoyed.

"Why'd you hang up?" A man's voice responded in an almost playful tone.

The casual question he asked threw you off. You pulled the phone back and double checked the screen to see if you'd mistakenly read it wrong, but no. It was definitely an unknown number.

"Hello?" You heard the man say in that same playful tone.

You hesitantly put the phone back up to your ear, "Who is this?"

"A friend," the man said.

"I'm sorry, I don't know your number, do I know you?"

"Really? I know yours," he said coolly, "what's your name?"

"(Y/n)," you answered against your better judgment, "what's yours?"

"(Y/n)," he repeated slowly, "pretty name for a pretty girl. I like it."

You furrowed your brow in confusion, "So you do know me?"

"No," he said with a laugh, "but I'd like to."

You stood up and began to pace the room, "You've got a funny way of introducing yourself."

"I'm a funny guy," he said almost sinisterly.

You glanced out your window half expecting to see whoever this was standing out there, but your yard was empty. You knew you should have hung up the phone by now, but you were a sucker for a little mystery.

"Do you want to play a game, (y/n)?"

It was like he knew.

"I feel like my answer should be no, but," you trailed off as you considered just how bad of an idea this would turn out to be, "I can't say I'm not tempted to say yes."

"Maybe it should be, but life is more fun when there's a little risk involved, right?"

You laughed, but hesitated to answer his original question.

"Let me make this easier for you," he said in that sinister tone again, "you're going to play a game with me, (Y/n)."

"Alright," you said defiantly, "let's play."

"Smart girl," he said with laugh, "first question. Do you scare easy?"

"No," you said flatly.

You went to close your window. At this point you were certain this was a bad idea, yet you still wanted to play. Desperate for some distraction from the monotony of day to day life. Stupid, is what you were being, but you just kept playing along.

"Are you scared right now?" He asked.

"Should I be?"

"Maybe," he said quietly, "next question, or rather, next task. I want you to look under your bed."

"Is this some kind of Halloween prank?" You said abruptly.

He started to laugh, "What do you think?"

"I think I'm gonna hang up now," you said, mocking his strange voice.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, more serious than before, "now look under your bed."

Your eyes wandered towards the floor and over to the darkness hiding behind the part of your duvet that hung over the side of the bed. You slowly walked over to it and lifted it up.

"Do it," he said, the grin on his face was almost audible, "get on your knees."

Now you knew he was watching you, he had to be. You slowly did as he asked and peered into the darkness. You braced yourself, half frightened you might find him underneath, but as your eyes adjusted you found there was nothing there. You couldn't believe you were thinking it, but you were almost a little disappointed. Boredom had really taken its toll on you, you thought to yourself. Here you were finding entertainment in this stranger's most definitely threatening game.

"There's nothing under here," you chimed into the phone.

"You're right. That would be too obvious, wouldn't it? Check your closet," he commanded.

"Isn't that even more obvious? Come on, you sound more creative than that," you teased as you glided over to the closet to find it too was empty.

"You think so?" He asked in a more amused tone, "look out your window."

"I did, but you already knew that," you said as you moved towards the window like he asked.

"Now you're catching on. What do you see?"

Your eyes moved back and forth, scanning the shadows with care, "I don't see anything."

"Look closer," he whispered.

You moved in towards the glass and strained your eyes further. The yard was empty as could be, but something caught your gaze and it wasn't outside. You felt your heart rate pick up when you noticed the face looking back at you in the reflection. Two black eyes, an open mouth on a pale white mask, and a black hood that covered his entire body. It was faint, but there was no way your mind was playing tricks on you. He was right behind you. Ghostface was right behind you.

"Are you scared now?" He asked in your ear.

You looked right back at him through the reflection and lied through your teeth, "No."

You noticed the gleam of a blade and watched him rest it on your shoulder. He let it drag down your arm, pulling on the slim strap of your tank top as it moved. He was careful not to draw blood. Yet.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He whispered as he tilted his head to the side.

"Never," you replied quickly and quietly, "you're the one all over the news, you're Ghostface."

"See, you do know me," he teased as he continued to drag the knife up and down your arm.

"Are you going to kill me?" You asked as calmly as you could manage.

"I was," he replied with a sigh as he played with that strap again, "but you did so well during our first game. So obedient."

You were silent as you watched him contemplate with that knife. You knew he could clearly hear how shaky your breath was. Life may have been boring, but you weren't ready to die.

"Do you think we should play another? Something a little," he quickly turned the knife upwards and cut through your tank top's strap, "different."

You tried your hardest to stop that gasp from escaping your mouth, but it couldn't be helped. He began to play with the strap on your other shoulder, still slow as ever but he was pressing a little firmer with the blade, tempted to draw just a bit of blood.

"Does this game end with me breathing?" You asked as the cold metal began to raise goosebumps on your skin.

"That depends on how well you play," he whispered in your ear.

You hated that the way he said it made you almost excited to find out what exactly this game would be. Though, you had a good idea of what to expect, at least for the most part. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part. You were beginning to wonder just how sick you were upstairs. You wanted to play and he could tell. There was something about the way he spoke, the sound of his voice and the mystery of it all. You watched his head tilt from one side to the other in the reflection. The idea of being so damn good in bed that even Ghostface himself wouldn't want to kill you somehow made this even more exciting. You knew you should have been scared, terrified and probably running, but you were up for the challenge.

"So what do you say?" He asked as he began to pull that other strap up with the knife, "Wanna take one more risk, (Y/n)?"

"Let's play."

As soon as the words left your mouth he cut it, "I was hoping you'd say that," he said before he grabbed the back of your top and sliced it open down the middle.

It fell away, revealing your black bra to him which he acknowledged with a devilish laugh. He rolled the remains of your tank top up and quickly grabbed your hands to bind them behind you. Once he was sure they were tight enough he turned you around to face him. He took his knife and placed it on your lips. He used the flat end to pull your bottom lip down, leaving your mouth open for him to admire. He then dragged it down your chin, neck, down to your chest and to the front of your bra. He traced your breasts, circling each of them with the sharper side of his knife now, taunting you. You knew he liked your obedience before, but you were tempted to try something different.

"Are you just gonna stare at me all night," you said as you watched the knife over your nose, "or are you gonna do something?"

The knife stopped moving and he cocked his head at you. A gloved hand flew up to your throat and he wrapped it around you in a painfully tight grip. You winced, but you couldn't say you didn't enjoy the display of dominance.

"You wanna be a brat now, huh?" He said before he leaned his masked face into yours until your nose almost touched, "I'll do what I want, when I want, for however long I want. Understood?"

"Then what do you want?" You choked out as your eyes wandered through those dark black holes to just barely catch a glimpse of his own.

He let out a low chuckle before he moved in close to your ear, you felt him cut your bra open, "I wanna make you scream."

Before you even had a chance to think of a response, he turned you both and threw you onto the bed. You tried to use your bound hands to push yourself up when you felt him grab at your shorts. He struggled to undo the buttons and ended up using his knife to snap them.

"You won't be needing these," he said as he pulled them off of you to admire the lace of your panties, "or these."

He grabbed each of your legs and swiftly dragged you to the edge of the bed. Your head hit the mattress and your breath hitched when you felt that knife on your bare inner thigh. It's cold touch made you squirm, but he was quick to stop you. He didn't want you going anywhere.

"No moving," he said as his free hand forced your thigh back so he could tease you further, "not until I say so."

He let it wander further this time, exploring up from the inside of your knee all the way back to his original spot. Then he moved it more inward. Part of you was terrified of what exactly he was planning to do with that knife, the other desperately needed touch. With all of you exposed to him, the tip of his knife dragging dangerously close to the most sensitive part of you, your body was both itching to be pleased and trembling with fear of the unknown. Suddenly, you no longer felt the knife. You stared up at the ceiling, so tempted to push yourself up to see what he was doing, but you did your best to resist the urge. Then you felt breath between your thighs. He must have taken his mask off. His mouth was so close to touching you, but other than a quick brush, he gave you nothing. You squirmed again in an attempt to find him where you needed him and felt both of his hands fall heavy on your hips, holding you down harder. You whined in response and he let out a laugh, which only worsened your state. You could practically feel the vibration of his voice where you wanted him most.

"You're only making this worse for yourself," he said in a self satisfied tone, he loved what he was doing to you, "you want it that bad? Beg for it."

"And if I don't?"

"It's your life at stake, isn't it? I suggest you do as I say and tell me just how badly you want me to taste you," he said, his lips just barely brushing against the top part of your inner thigh as he spoke.

"So badly," you breathed.

You felt him nip at your skin, "No, no. Say it."

"I want you to taste me."

"I said beg," he said through gritted teeth.

He bit down again and a moan escaped your lips, "Please, I want you to, I need you to taste me," you cried.

"Louder."

"I'm begging you, please," you said louder, you thought you sounded so pathetic with how desperate you were at this point.

"I want your fucking neighbors to hear you," he spat up at you.

"God, just please fuck me already, I want you to fuck me," you screamed.

"Good girl," he said as he pulled your hips forward.

When his tongue finally met your sweet spot, your neck arched back, "Yes," you breathed.

God, you had never wanted anything so bad. The feeling of his tongue exploring you so gently, steadily adding more pressure with each flick was heaven. He was good, more than good. It was as if he knew exactly how to work you, every little thing he did was exactly what you needed him to do. Not one wrong move was made. You were already unraveling under his touch. No one had ever teased you like that before, your body was begging for release before he had even touched you, just as he had planned. You started to tense when you felt the vibration of the groan that escaped him against you. That, mingled with the pressure of his tongue, made you let out an almost pathetic whine. He could tell he had you on the brink.

"Not yet," he ordered, "not until I'm inside you."

But you were already right there. It was beyond your control, but he knew that. You felt his fingers dig into your hips as he grew frustrated at you're inability to hold off any longer. Just before you could get the release you were aching for, he pulled away. Before you could complain, you felt his hands grip your waist and flip you over. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back, forcing you on your knees. You started to turn your head to look back at him, you just knew he didn't have the mask on anymore, he had taken it off while he was between your legs and you wanted to see his face. Just before you could catch a glimpse, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head back as he thrusted into you. You cried out and squeezed your eyes shut as he went as deep as he could go, making you burn with pleasure.

"Now you can cum," he said through gritted teeth as he began his brutal pace.

With or without his permission, you were going to. Your body was doing all the begging for you now. You pushed back against him to meet his thrusts, and before long you felt that knot that had begun to form when his tongue was in you start to snap. He could tell he was hitting the right spot and a self satisfied smirk formed on his face. He tightened his grip on your hair and went harder until he felt you clench around him.

He pulled your head up more so he could whisper in your ear, "Now scream for me."

You did just as he asked as your climax hit you harder than any other you'd had before. He watched your fists clench in their binds, desperate for something to hold onto as he fucked you through your orgasm. He took his other hand and brought it to his mouth so he could rip his glove off, then he pulled you up further so he could use his fingers to play with you. Your body writhed as he worked you for yet another orgasm. The overstimulation only made you louder, which earned another sinister laugh from him.

"You're such a fucking mess for me, aren't you?" He said as he moved his fingers faster, drove himself into you harder.

You were and you were about to find further release. He felt you tighten around him again and this time, it was going to send him over the edge with you. His breath became uneven in your ear and he let go of your hair to force your hips harder against his own. You heard him muttering a slew of curses in a breathy voice as his thrusts became sloppier, more desperate. He let out a few whines of his own, but god were they amazing to hear. They drew you closer to that second orgasm you were chasing and when you finally found it you felt him find his own inside you. His head fell back as he rode through it. Then he stopped, breathing heavily over you. Your head was spinning and you barely even noticed him grab the knife that was lying beside you. He quickly cut the bind on your hands and your arms fell limp at your sides. He laughed at your annihilated state before he pulled out of you. You felt his hand reach around to lift you up by your throat. He pressed your back against his chest and turned your head with his gloved hand so he could place a firm kiss to your lips. You would have returned it better than you did, but after being fucked silly, you barely had any energy left to give him. He let go and you fell forward, thankfully your hands found the mattress before your face did. You pushed yourself up and looked over at him. His mask was still off and your jaw dropped. You did know him, you'd never spoken to him, but you definitely knew who he was.

"Stu?" You asked, dumbfounded.

He flashed that funny smile of his at you as he admired the shock on your face, then he mocked you with a shocked look of his own, "(Y/n)?"

"You- but I, you're- you're Ghostface?" You asked confused.

"Surprise," he said as he put his other glove back on.

You furrowed your brow, "But, why-"

"Come on. I've been trying to get your attention for weeks. Nothing seemed to be working, but this," he said cockily, "this definitely worked."

You felt your face heat up as he lifted the mask up to his face, "Didn't it?"

Oh, it definitely worked.

"So you're not gonna kill me?" You asked as you watched him lift your window open.

"After that? Are you kidding me?" He said with an astonished laugh, "No way."

He watched you smirk in response. He flashed that smile one more time before he threw his mask back on. He started to climb out the window, but turned back to you.

"So," he said through the voice modulator, "I'll call you?"

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yeonjuns-beanie · 9 months

Text

Licentious Affairs

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, definitely dub-con, a little non-con, use of restraints, having sex with a demon, some animalistic behaviors, descriptions of blood, biting, degrading, hair pulling and i think that's everything

summary: you and dalton grew closer over the course of the fall semester. you sense a mutual feeling but still, a crush feels forbidden. on the night that dalton decides he needs to unlock all his memories for good, something possesses his earthly form and you’re left at its mercy.

a/n: when i saw the new installment of this franchise, something about him being possessed had me kicking my feet and giggling. this is 100% self indulgent bc I feel like this is so niche lol. it strays from the events in the film(obvi) but I hope whoever comes across enjoys and i'll get back to my kpop postings shortly :3 ~nero

possessed!Dalton Lambert x female reader

word count: 4.4k

pt.2

The breeze was crisp and the trees were warm bouquets of orange, yellow, and sun-bleached green. As you walked across campus, the leaves crunching under your feet you appreciated the change in season. Wrapping yourself a little tighter in your knitted cardigan, you pulled out your phone checking your notifications. Swiping out of your social media a message from Dalton popped up on your screen.

van gogh: r u out of class yet

y/n: walking to the dorm rn

van gogh: okay, i’ve got something to show you

Turning the volume up on your music and stuffing your phone back into your stubby front pocket, you continued your walk to the dorm. Your mind was scattering all the different possibilities of what Dalton could’ve found out. Since the beginning of the semester, his art professor had been unleashing techniques on him to tap into a deeper artistic space. Through this theory of unlocking, he opened up memories that were tucked away so tightly that he forgot they were his own. Throughout the semester, you’ve been forced to be around his revelations as you were his dorm mate, but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy his company.

At first, you thought it was just you being good-natured and wanting to extend a hand to him in a time of need. But as his walls crumbled down you wormed your way in and slowly you found you guys becoming quite close. Opening the main doors to your dorm building the way the air felt never failed to bother you. The brick walls made it constantly humid and it was borderline suffocating with how many bodies passed through the day. Dragging your feet across the floor, you began to feel the day place its weight on your body. You felt another vibration in your pocket but ignored it, deciding to look at the notification once you got settled in.

Opening the door to your room, you were met with Dalton hunched over the canvas of his current piece. He was so focused on the painting that he didn’t hear you come in until the door clicked shut. You dropped your bag on the floor and he finally looked up.

“Hey. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, you looked pretty focused on that freaky ass painting.”

“If not for this freaky ass painting, I’d still be “boring.”’

Flopping onto your bed, you chuckled remembering the first interaction you guys had with each other. You so desperately were trying to break the ice with your roommate and least to say it was the smallest bit painful getting some info out of him. As Dalton added the last few strokes of creativity, he put down his brush and wiped his hands off with a rag. Meanwhile, you were getting lost in his every move. You were tracing him, the way he moved, really just the way he existed. Losing yourself in your thoughts you didn’t hear him calling your name.

“Y/n…y/n? Are you even here right now?” “Huh?- Sorry was spacing out, long day.”

You were praying that somehow he wouldn’t think too much of it and just pass it off as you disassociating and not internally doting on him. You sat up as he walked over to your bed, the mattress shifting as he sat.

“So you know how we learned I can astral project right?”

You nodded and raised your eyebrows urging him to go on.

“Well, I think, whatever I’m remembering–if I finish that painting I’ll remember everything.”

You looked at him, brows furrowing and your eyes showing an incredulous type of fear. Memories from the last time he projected flooded your mind. Whatever was stalking that other plane had it out not only for Dalton but for anyone in his vicinity. It left you stricken, but subconsciously you knew you couldn’t leave Dalton to deal with it alone.

“You wanna…go back again?”

“I think it’s my only option y/n.”

You sighed knowing there was really nothing you could do to get him to think otherwise. You stared off toward the cryptic painting searching your brain for a solution that didn’t involve him going back to that other world. Nodding, more towards yourself, you looked back at Dalton.

“Okay. When are we doing this?”

There was a small flash of a ‘thank you’ that graced his features. The relationship you shared was beyond the parameters of normal but it was exactly that that allowed you guys to grow so close with one another so quickly. He let out a sigh a dour expression taking over.

“Tonight.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line forcing yourself to become comfortable with the reality of the situation. Slightly nodding, you stood up grabbing your bag from the floor.

“Alright. I’ll be right back. Just gonna run and grab some fairy lights so I can have some source of light in here while you play Sherlock Holmes in the upside down.”

Dalton cracked a smile, a small chuckle escaping him. It was something that softened the heaviness of the situation, lifting the tension not only between you two but for your anxieties. It also made something flutter in your stomach, something you’ve desperately been trying to swallow scared of what would happen if he were to find out. You were about to open the door but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Your phone.”

A gentle smile stretched across his face and there was something softer about him in this particular moment. Maybe it was the knowledge of the impending doom that would ensue in a few hours or maybe it was just two people being vulnerable. You weren’t sure what came over you but the urge to hug him was impossible to pass over and your body moved faster than your mind could react. Your arms wrapped around him finding relief and comfort in him returning the gesture so quickly.

Pulling away from him you found a certain softness swimming in his eyes that you never noticed before. Feeling slightly overwhelmed and bashful you fiddled with your fingertips attempting to wash away the anxiety that was running through you.

“Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

Dalton nodded and you slipped out of the doorway. As you walked down the hallway to leave the building you were fighting a more than enthusiastic grin as you felt those same pesky feelings flutter through your being. If only you had a similar gift to Dalton’s you’d be able to see that he was feeling the exact same way. As soon as you left the dorm he sat back on his bed, his hands trying to wipe away the elation he felt from the hug you shared. He was fighting a similar demon as your own, the fabrication of feelings–a crush.

As he laid back on his bed he was running through all his favorite parts of you, something that he didn’t think he could say out loud. His mind was in too many places at once, going back and forth between the budding feelings he felt for you and the unfortunate calamity that he was going to have to face not long after you came back.

Coming out of the corner store, you were surprised by how fast the sun began to tuck behind the mountains. You had an interesting relationship with the fall season, loving how the weather changed and the natural warmness that fall carried. By the same token though, you wished daylight lasted a bit longer, especially tonight. You wished the sun would never set so neither one of you would have to experience the ire that attaches itself to Dalton when the night approaches.

When you got back into the dorm building, there was a formidable sense of dread that you felt settle in your stomach. You tried to brush it off as anxiety now that the navy blanket of night was cast over the sky, but as you approached your dorm the feeling only worsened. Taking a deep breath as you turned the handle of the door, you exhaled as you entered the room, dropping your bag by the door and tossing the bag of lights on your bed.

You were about to announce your arrival to Dalton but were surprised to find him asleep on his bed. You were gone for maybe half an hour so you didn’t think he’d be too deep in sleep. Admiring his form you quelled your thoughts by grabbing the box of lights out of the grocery bag and began to unravel them while calling out to Dalton.

“Dalton…Dalton.”

Plugging the lights in the wall, you called for him one more time before deciding to walk over and shake him up. But when you turned around, he was already sitting up on his bed. It spooked you because you didn’t hear him move.

“Jesus! Make a noise or you know, yawn or something. Scared the shit outta me.” You nervously giggled. That sickly feeling found its way back in your stomach again and you couldn’t quite figure out why. Moving the string of lights around your bed, you found Dalton being more quiet than usual and you ruled that to be the reason why your stomach was turning in knots.

“You alright man? You’re being more weird than usual.”

Silence. Crippling silence.

Chills ran up your body and you tried desperately to feel some sense of normality about the situation. Dalton got up from his bed and walked over to his canvas, running his fingers over the freshly dried paint. He forced some extra air out of his nose somewhat resembling something of a laugh. You kept yourself on high alert as you walked over to your bag to grab your phone. As you got your phone and turned around your eyes met Dalton’s frame huddled in the corner of the room closest to your bed.

The way the string of lights illuminated him caused that sinking feeling to turn into something more dire. You started to go beyond the safety of things just being “weird” and recognized it was fear settling into your bones. Dalton’s shoulders were quivering almost resembling what a laugh would look like but no noise was coming out.

“Dalton, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

Ignoring your intuition, you slowly walked over to him, hoping that the lights would let you see something that you were missing from your distance away from him. You left a couple feet in between you two and you called out to him again, only this time he turned his head slowly in your direction. Any rumination of worry about your friend was quickly replaced with terror once his head turned enough for you to see his eyes. They weren’t his own. They were yellow and held malicious intent.

You wanted to stand your ground but the gasp that left you made a sound before you could stop it. You watched a smirk grow on Dalton’s face and as you broke your chains of frozen fear, you turned around in an attempt to reach the door. Before you could take your second step towards your escape, your feet left the safety of the ground and your body was flung through the air.

Hitting the art wall adjacent to Dalton’s bed your body flopped onto his bed, a shield of sheets as your protection. In a poor attempt to quickly figure out an escape you instead were met with the evil incarnate of Dalton. Your heart was pounding, fear and a dread of the unknown at the forefront of your mind. His frame was looming, staring you down like fresh prey. You gripped the bed sheets staring him down trying to convince yourself you weren’t fearful. Your plan was successful, but the longer you looked at him the easier it became for something more sinister to eclipse your emotions.

Lust.

A salacious intent swapping out the fear of him for the fear of yourself and your own emotions. Why were you feeling this? Could whatever was using Dalton as a vessel hear your thoughts? How could you look at him the same way after this? All of your questions were pushed to the back of your mind as the door to your dorm slowly opened and Dalton turned towards it. You saw nothing in the doorway but almost like a warning, a low timbre shriek echoed from his throat as a bloody goop tumbled out of his mouth.

Whatever was entering the door from the other side left, the door clicking shut and his attention was unfortunately back on you. With a feeble bid, you hoped that calling to Dalton would release him of whatever had a hold on him. As Dalton turned around to grab the cord of lights from the wall, the way he stalked back over to you sent a familiar feeling to pool in your stomach.

“Dalton…I know you’re in there. Dal-”

“-To be face to face with what was keeping me from him recently was not what I expected to see. Nor did I expect it to be so filthy.”

It felt like someone was trying to steal your heart from its chest. There was a certain grit to his tone that was not Dalton’s and you weren’t quite sure if it frightened you or excited you. As he wrapped the cord around his hand he stalked closer to you on the bed.

“Most would be terrified in a situation like this, but you? I can smell you. It’s hard to ignore really.”

You backed further to the wall suddenly facing the reality of your situation. Your heart sped up but not out of fear. The closer he got the more aroused you became but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself just yet. Before you had an understanding of what was going on in front of you, your wrists were taken and tied to the bedpost with the cord Dalton was winding up.

“No!”

A sudden urge to fight back, you weren’t sure if this was something you wanted under the given circumstances. As you tried to push back against the cord, an unseen force was pinning your body to the bed. Your vision was obstructed by the fabric of Dalton’s baggy long sleeve but the overwhelming feeling of arousal was something you couldn’t ignore when he moved to face you and you looked directly into his yellowed eyes.

His hand snaked down the front of your body leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It was a twisted feeling, you dreamt of a moment like this but with the given situation you were struggling if it was right. As his hand toyed with the button of your jeans any doubt about the situation was pushed to the back of your mind and a gritty tone echoed in the silence of the room.

“It’s funny. Hearing you think you have enough strength to deny yourself pleasure.”

You arched your eyebrow confused by his admission. He took heed of this and answered before you had a chance to vocalize your thoughts. He leaned forward stalking over your body before he placed himself next to the shell of your ear.

“Your thoughts are so loud. Louder than his–if only…he could be the one to see you like this. He’s wished for it.” He pulled away grinning at you in a way that made your walls flutter around nothing. You wondered if the confession of your Dalton “wishing for it” was real or just something the entity used to get under your skin.

You didn’t have much time to think on the matter as your heart rate picked up again at the unfortunate realization that you, were enjoying this. The smirk that rested on Dalton’s face let you in on the sadistic pleasure of whatever was taking control of him was feeling. Before Dalton moved away from the shell of your ear, he took a deep inhale of the scent of your neck.

Humming in relish, he nipped at your earlobe gingerly pulling at the skin as he snaked down your body once more. You wish you had more control but the whimper that left your throat was something instinctive. As this primal version of Dalton reached your hips, your zipper was quickly unfastened and your pants were tossed to the other side of the room

Dalton moved his legs so that he was no longer straddling your own and situated himself in between them. Sliding toward the edge of the bed, he slid down enough to be face first with your messy cunt. Your desire soaking through the fabric leaving no room for doubt in your feelings. Shoving his nose into your drenched panties, he huffed the scent of you a second time causing you to squirm away from the action.

Closing your eyes and rolling your lips around your teeth, you tried to silence your whines to collect yourself. Once again trying to convince yourself that you had more power over your bodily wants and needs.

“Stop, please.”

Your plea was met with a sardonic giggle and as you looked down and was met with the sick glow of his yellow eyes. Dalton stalked back up your body, hovering over your face and clicking his tongue at you mockingly. As you were entranced by the figure above you, you failed to realize that he unbound your wrists from the cord. The sudden freedom surprised you but was swallowed by the feeling of his hand slithering in your panties and rubbing his finger across your slick folds.

Your body shuddered in hedonism, rolling your hips up into the feeling. As one finger slipped its way into your slick cavern your hands found solace in fisting the sheets. As he entered a second finger you couldn’t contain your sounds.

“Ah~! I can’t believe this is happening. I can’tbelievethisishappening.”

In your stupor of sexual panic, a low chuckle brought you back down to your body. His fingers curled inside of you repeatedly hitting the special spongey spot you cherished so much. As your moans became more frequent and less controlled, he removed his fingers from your pulsating hole and ripped your panties off of your sensitive frame. You whined out not only at the loss of contact but at the sudden cool air that breezed over your skin. Settling into your body you were panting heavily as you stared down Dalton.

His yellowed eyes still igniting fear but simultaneously leaving you wanton and in a state of ache. That conflicting feeling flooded your brain again and soon felt guilt peering over the horizon. Before you were given the chance to wrestle with your thoughts, Dalton straddled himself over your body. One hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks to pry your mouth open just enough to shove his fingers into your mouth. He looked down at you, a small smirk adorning his face.

“Suck.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden roughness you complied immediately not wanting to make the situation even more escalated. Your eyebrows furrow, your face plagued with anxiety as you watch Dalton come closer to your face. The leftover stain of blood that was on his chin smeared across your lower cheek as his breath fanned over your skin leaving your body wanting more. As he removed his fingers from your mouth, he licks from your chip up to the tip of your nose. Dalton pulls away slightly so he can get a better look at your face as a venomous smile pulls at his.

He takes the hand that was holding your face and drags it down the side of your cheek as he exhales a phrase that would chill your bones.

“Everything I’m going to do to you…he wishes he could do himself.”

The anxiety you felt prior was beginning to trickle back in as you realized the tank top you were wearing underneath the cardigan provided you little safety from the one above. Dalton’s hands slid up your torso underneath your tank top, his hands massaging over the soft flesh of your breast. Undoing the front clasp, your tits pancaked out of the fabric only for one to be caught by Dalton’s rough hand and the other encased by his lips.

You tried to keep a coherent thought, to push back against him but you lacked the mental will due to the rapture spidering through your body. As his mouth left your nipple, the cold air sent shivers through your chest and rippled down your back as his lips savagely placed open mouth kisses along your jawline, nipping at your skin with each release.

Caught up in the feeling you almost blocked out the sound of his belt becoming undone. But as soon as you were aware, the time to react had come to pass. His cock, hard and heavy was pulled out from the layers of fabric and you felt it tap against your inner thigh. You were suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you were and the understanding of what was about to happen next rushed through you.

“W-wait! I don’t, I can’t I~ah! Fuck!”

Before you had the chance to form a coherent thought, his cock entered your seraphic walls and his teeth bit at the skin on your neck. A mark that would surely leave a stain in the aftermath. Having already been overstimulated by the situation itself, the stretch of his cock was horrifically sinful. You couldn’t help the fluttering of your walls as he rocked his length in and out of you at a harrowing pace.

As he finally let go of your neck he huffed out in the intersection of your neck and shoulder. His exhales made your skin humid and left you with another layer of unwanted pleasure. Trying to bring yourself back down to your body, your hand released the binding grip it had on the bedsheets and sought refuge in Dalton’s sweatshirt, something proving to be a mistake.

A low growl erupted from Dalton’s throat and before you could register what was happening, he had pulled himself out of you and manhandled you to get on your hands and knees.

“What made you think that you could touch me, hmm?”

Like a viper his hand webbed itself in your hair, gripping it at the base and pulling your body up. Adrenaline pumping, you were searching for a viable response but came up with nothing but babbles.

“I-I don’t, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He controlled the movements of your head, forcing you to crane your neck and stare at him in his amber orbs one last time. Mocking your apology, he cooed at you.

“Aww, you’re sorry? Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”

Punctuating his statement by rushing his cock back into your ruined cunt, you cried out at the feeling. He shoved your face back into the bed, his pace now unrelenting and no longer a derivative of pleasure but rather of power. With every thrust you felt the tip of his cock assault your cervix, causing tears to well up in your eyes and dry into the sheets beneath you. It was overwhelming, feeling like all decision was stolen from you.

The only thing that filled the room now were the occasional groans from the figure above you and muffled sobs from yourself. You hated that you could feel the approaching feelings of ecstasy building in your lower stomach. The heat was building and the suffocating squeezes from your gummy walls around his cock were more than enough to alert him to your demise.

“You gonna cum around me, you filthy slut? Enjoyed every second of this didn’t you?”

The guilt you were warding off finally made its way to the forefront of your emotions but you couldn’t find it within yourself to admit that you did, in fact, enjoy all of this. You settled for denial. Denial would save you from the inevitable self reflection you’d have to face.

“No, no no I didn’t! I didn’t enjoy it. I didn-!”

Your body cut you off, your orgasm washing over you reluctantly but comedically in timing. As your body shuddered around him, you heard that same derisive chuckle leave his throat mocking you yet again.

“Keep telling yourself th~aht.”

He pulled himself out of you, spraying his seed across the exposed portion of your back. The warmth felt overt, wicked, and it was something you didn’t want on you. You didn’t have the gall to face the being behind you. Instead, you let your body fall limp against the bed as the being fronting as Dalton stood up and fixed himself back into his clothes. From behind you heard him.

“Say hi to him for me.”

Not expecting a response from you, he left Dalton’s body. His earthly form collapsing on your dorm floor. You didn’t have the strength to turn and help him up as he came to, too busy wrestling with your emotions as tears pooled out of your eyes. You heard your Dalton groan and stand up reaching to turn on the lamp light on his art desk. As the warm light illuminated the room, he turned around silence and shock devastating him as he took in the sight of you.

You tried to quell your sobs, but your body kept shaking them out. Dalton slowly walked over to you trying to survey your body without touching you. When his eyes landed on the alabaster stains that painted your lower back a terrifying realization overcame him.

“Y/n…? Y/n, talk to me.”

The gentle tone was something you missed dearly despite only being gone for such a short amount of time. It comforted you knowing that the worst was over for at least right now. Dalton kneeled on the floor resting his upper body on the side of the bed. You turned your head slowly, still somewhat expecting to meet those hideous yellow eyes but when you saw the gentle and disconcerted brown pupils you were swamped with relief. Tears still were falling across your face, their frequency diminishing.

You gave him a weak smile, a small “hey” leaving your lips. Like cracked porcelain, he wouldn’t dare touch you. He couldn’t break you more than he already had. His tone weak and regretful, he scanned over your fragile body trying to understand how this happened. He let his head fall next to yours, burying his head in sheets.

“What did I do to you?”

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