#(LAYS FACE-DOWN ON FLOOR AND CRIES INTO CARPET)

[hazelira]

dada, stay?

The dim glow of the nightlight painted soft hues of pink and lavender across the nursery walls as you paced back and forth, exhaustion pulling at your every movement. Baby Haruka’s cries echoed off the walls, her tiny voice piercing through your heart. She stood near her toddler bed, fists clutching her beloved blankie, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“Please, sweetie,” you whispered, kneeling to her level. “You’re a big girl now. This is your special bed.”

But she only wailed louder, her little legs stomping against the soft carpet as she sobbed, “Nooooo! Mamaaaa!”

You sighed, brushing your hair away from your face. The ache in your back from hours of this routine was starting to set in. The maids had come and gone, their attempts to console her failing just as yours had. Each time you laid her down, she would get up moments later, trailing her blanket and searching for you or Ni-ki.

Speaking of Ni-ki.

He stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. His face was unreadable, as cold as if his daughter's cries didn’t faze him. The icy demeanour you’d grown used to pierced you harder tonight than ever.

“You could help, you know,” you muttered under your breath as you hoisted Haruka up again, her small hands gripping your shirt tightly as she continued to cry into your shoulder.

Ni-ki said nothing for a moment, his dark eyes locked on the scene before him: the baby, the struggle, you.

“I told you this would happen if you gave in to her every whim,” he finally said, his voice low and detached.

Your jaw clenched. “And I told you she’s a baby, Riki. She needs love and patience, not… whatever this is.”

Haruka’s sobs grew louder, her tiny fingers digging into your skin as she whimpered, “Dada… Dada…”

You turned to him, anger bubbling beneath your fatigue. “You hear her, don’t you? She’s calling for you, Riki. Don’t just stand there. Help me.”

Something flickered in his eyes for a fleeting moment—guilt, perhaps, or hesitation—but it was gone before you could grasp it. He pushed off the doorframe, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached. Haruka’s cries softened, her tearful gaze locking onto him as she hiccuped, “Dada…”

He crouched down, his movements stiff, and reached out to gently take her from your arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her sobs quieting as she buried her face in his chest.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice still cold but softer now. He ran a hand over her hair, the action awkward yet oddly tender. “Stop crying. You'll always be our baby but you’re not a baby anymore.”

“Dada…” she whispered again, her little voice cracking.

Your chest ached as you watched the scene. Despite his detached nature, Haruka sought him out and craved his presence just as much as she did yours.

Ni-ki sat on the edge of the toddler bed, adjusting her in his arms. “This is your new bed now,” he said firmly but gently, his fingers brushing away her tears. “You have to sleep here, Haruka. No more crying. No more crib.”

She sniffled, her grip on his shirt loosening as she blinked at him. “Dada, stay?”

He froze, his cold facade cracking just slightly. His eyes darted to you as if asking for permission, though he’d never admit it.

“Fine,” he muttered, laying her down and tucking her in. He settled on the floor beside the bed, his back against the wall. “But only until you fall asleep.”

A faint smile broke through Haruka’s tear-streaked face as she clutched her blankie and closed her eyes. Her breathing evened out slowly, the room falling into an uneasy silence.

You stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching Ni-ki as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes closing briefly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, though your tone mixed gratitude and bitterness.

He didn’t respond, his cold mask slipping back into place as if nothing had happened. But as you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of his hand resting protectively on the edge of Haruka’s bed, a silent promise only she would understand.

The faint glow of morning filtered through the curtains, casting streaks of gold across the nursery. You rubbed at your tired eyes as you stepped into the room. The quiet was startling after the night's chaos, and you held your breath for a moment.

Haruka lay sound asleep in her toddler bed, her tiny chest rising and falling with each even breath. Her blankie was clutched in one hand, her thumb tucked into her mouth, a picture of serenity. Beside her, slouched against the wall with his head tilted back, was Ni-ki.

He looked uncomfortable, his long legs stretched awkwardly across the floor, arms folded across his chest, and yet… peaceful. His face, usually so guarded and cold, was relaxed in sleep. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the doorway, taking in the sight.

The man who always kept his emotions locked away had stayed with her all night. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

You stepped closer, your bare feet padding softly across the carpet. Kneeling beside him, you hesitated before reaching out. For once, he seemed vulnerable, almost human, as he slumbered. You gently touched his arm.

“Riki,” you whispered.

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze meeting yours. For a brief moment, he looked disoriented, his cold facade nowhere to be found. Then, like clockwork, the walls came back up. He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck with a grimace.

“She’s still asleep,” he said, his voice gruff from exhaustion.

“I can see that,” you replied softly. “You stayed all night.”

Ni-ki stood, brushing off invisible dust from his pants. “She wouldn’t have stopped crying otherwise,” he said as if to downplay the effort he’d made.

You rose to your feet, crossing your arms. “You could’ve gone back to bed and let the maids handle it, but you didn’t. Why?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Because you were exhausted,” he said after a long pause. “And she needed someone.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission. It wasn’t an apology but the closest thing to an explanation you’d ever gotten from him.

“She doesn’t just need someone,” you said, quiet but firm. “She needs you, Riki. Not just when it’s convenient or I can’t handle it anymore. She needs her father.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then his shoulders sagged, and he let out a sigh.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Being… there. I don’t know how to be what she needs.”

Your expression softened, and you reached out, touching his arm. “You just have to try,” you said. “She doesn’t need you to be perfect. She needs to know you love her. That’s enough.”

Ni-ki’s eyes flickered to Haruka, still sound asleep in her bed. For once, the cold mask cracked, and you saw the faintest glimmer of warmth in his gaze.

“I’ll try,” he murmured, almost to himself.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you turned to leave the room, you glanced back to see Ni-ki sitting on the floor again, his hand resting lightly on the edge of Haruka’s bed. Maybe the husband you’d grown accustomed to was beginning to thaw.

part 2 here

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@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @heavenki @s1rawb3rry

[nanaslutt]

What do u think of Gojo begging you to give him a handjob and promising he wont cum during NNN but surprise surprise he fails so u ruin his orgasm 🤯

I think YES???? this was insanely fun to write, tysm for the ask nonnie<33

tell me why i forgot nnn was a thing LOLLL

contains: fem reader, crack, handjobs, whiney!satoru, established relationship, cumming handsfree, ruined orgasm, failed edging, begging, gojo calls you 'ma'am ' once as a joke, 'baby' and 'princess' used for reader

2k words :p

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

"Baby pleeeeease." gojo whines, laying his head on your knees from where he sits between your legs on the carpeted floor, 

"Satoru, you were just begging me last month to not let you cum during November no matter what." you sighed, he does this every year, making you swear up and down that you'll hold him accountable and not let him lose NNN, hearing from geto that if you last the whole month, the orgasm on December first was mind-numbing

of course, he wouldn't know, becasue every year he came crawling to you about how stupid this challenge was, barely a week into the challenge, and he was dragging you to the nearest surface and fucking you against it, filling your guts with his cum,

but not this time, miraculously he had held out this long, only eight days before the challenge was over. he of course had you to thank for thank, deep down you knew he really did want to complete this challenge, and thats why he was so insistant every time the dreaded month came around. 

but Satoru was a slut for pleasure, especially for the kind of pleasure he got from you. Whether it was your hands, mouth, cunt, he could get off using any part of your body and he would be the happiest man on earth

"I won't cum, swear, just miss your hands on me baby pleeeease," he practically cried, hugging onto your knees, turning his face into your skin whining and groaning like a spoiled child,

"Toru, you and I both know you do not have enough self-restraint to just edge yourself," knowing him better than himself

together, you guys have tried edging, Satoru never being able to make it past the first time you stopped right before he came, once again saying how stupid this was, quickly fucking his cock back into you and bringing himself to the brink of orgasm using your body, cumming with no restraint, even though he was once again the one who brought the idea to you,

"I'm starting to think you might have commitment issues," you mumble under your breath, his fake cries and obnoxious pouting pulling you out of your thoughts, phone dropping by your side, looking down at him with a huff, 

"Please, all you gotta do is rub my cock a little, just for a second please," he drags out the please once more, lip sticking out in a pout as he looks up through his snowy lashes at you, "jus wanna feel you please, it's been so long, need it, baby, please."

shutting your eyes and sighing once again, unable to deny him any longer with him being so persistent, especially when he asks you so nicely, looking up at you with those beautiful eyes of his, 

"oh my goddd Satoru, okay, fine." you shake your head, slapping your hand over your face, and he perks up, immediately abandoning his spoiled rich kid act, leaving fat kisses all over your knees, "yes yes yes thank you, baby, promise I won't let you down," 

he stands up and you peek through the cracks in your fingers, hand still on your face and your jaw practically drops at the sight, he is already sporting a huge tent in the crotch of his grey sweats, smile stretching from ear to ear while he looks down at you,

"you're already hard?" you exclaim, disbelief plastered on your face, "feelin' on ur legs made me hard," he says nonchalantly, the expression on your face not changing, "now up you go!" leaning down he scoops you up from under your arms and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, "woah! toru!" you exclaim, caught off guard as he takes long strides to your bedroom

strong hold on the underside of your knees as he hums, making his way through the hallway, finally reaching his destination and plopping you down in front of him on the hard floor, "how do ya want me your majesty?" he smirks, hands in his pockets waiting for your direction, "jus' go lay down on the bed you freak," pushing his solid chest back towards the king mattress, 

putting on a show as he faux stumbles backward, flopping back on the bed, fluffy white hair on the pillows, putting one hand behind his head, the other coming down to rub himself over his sweats, "don't leave me waiting princess" biting his lip, lips corners of his lips curling up into a flirty smile, 

"stop fucking touching yourself," you sigh, "gonna cum before I even get my hands on you." You're feeling undeniably aroused yourself, you and Gojo have a very active sex life, never going weeks without touching each other unless he is away on a mission. since he made quite the effort with the challenge this time around (largely thanks to you) you've been feeling pretty antsy, participation in the challenge yourself as a way of supporting him, 

though there's no real pressure on you, if you wanted you could rub one out at any time. the only downside is that getting off on your own never felt as good as it did with Satoru,

he whistles, giving himself one last grope before his heavy hand joins the other behind his head, "yes ma'am" he says slightly teasing tone lacing his voice,

you crawled on top of him, resting your ass right above his knees, "remember Satoru, you're not going to cu-" he cuts you off, waving his hand in front of you, rolling his eyes, "yeah yeah, not gunna cum, I got it," he says snarkily, a little too snarky for someone who was quite literally on his knees begging you to touch his stupid cock, but you digress,

narrowing your eyes at him before sliding your slender fingers over his upper thighs, over his hips, teasing his lower stomach, barely grazing his twitching clothed cock on the way back down, repeating the process a couple of times, sometimes opting to skip over running your fingers over his cock altogether

his jaw is slightly slack, watching your hands intently, "cmon, don't be a tease baby," he sighs, pushing his hips off the bed towards you, "You're in no place to make demands right now," staring into his intimidating eyes challengingly, 

he bites his lip, shutting his mouth, awaiting your move, pushing his shirt up, resting right under his pecs as you tease your fingers on the short white hairs of his happy trail, right above the hem of his pants,

smile now off his face, looking concentrated as he bites his lip harshly, eyes darting back between your fingers and pretty face, looking so concentrated on what you were doing,

your cunt was aching to feel him inside you, trying to push your own needs out of your brain, feeling nearly impossible as you exposed more and more of his happy trail the more you teased down his pelvis,

finally grabbing the fabric of his pants and sliding them down his incredibly toned thighs, he lifted his hips, aiding you in undressing him, his breathing started to pick up when you looked closely at his cock straining under his boxers

staring at a dark spot where his pre was leaking from his tip under his briefs, trying not to roll your eyes back when he made his cock jump. taking your index finger and rubbing it on the wet patch on the head of his dick, drawing little circles around it, his breath hitching, breathing picking up slightly watching you pull your finger back slowly, a string of cum connecting the two of you,

giving his boxers the same treatment, slipping your fingers underneath the hem and sliding them down, his hips raising again to make your job easier, and he's grinning so hard when your jaw drops open, watching his flushed cock slap back against his tummy, flexing the appendage again, putting on a show for you,

"your cock is so pretty Toru," you marvel, squeezing your thighs together so you can focus on the task at hand, "ur leaking so much," finger tapping his angry head a couple of times, proving your point as the cum makes little 'plap' 'plap' sounds when your finger comes in contact with him,

"There's so much it looks like you already came," you tease, finally wrapping your hand around his warm tip, hips leaving the bed once more to slide into your hand, "hips on the bed please Satoru," you correct, muscles in his thighs and abs flexing as you feel him connect his ankles together behind you,

starting to give him steady shallow pumps and his jaw is slack, eyes rolling back when you twist your wrist over the head of his neglected dick, "fuuuuck baby, just what I needed," he breathily laughs out a smile, "a little faster please," he requests, both hands leaving their place behind his head to grip the sheets by his sides,

"let me know when you feel close," you instruct, waiting to see him nod in acknowledgment before pumping your hand a little faster, sliding effortlessly up and down his cock with vulgar wet sounds thanks to his leaky cock,

"yesyesyes s-shit, squeeze harder," breaths entering and leaving his lungs rapidly as he tips his head back into the pillows, when you follow his instructions he lets out a long groan, abs clenching more frequently, your body jolting a bit every time he fidgeted his legs around the sheets behind you, 

breathing heavily yourself, free hand coming down to press against the heat between your thighs, a temporary relief as you tried to memorize his every reaction he gives you,

"you close Satoru?" you question, noticing his breath come in shorter pants, warm cock twitching and straining against your hands, his thighs. tensing and unsensing more frequently, all telltale signs of his impending orgasm, "I asked you a question," you emphasized with a strong squeeze at the base of his lengthy cock, "n-no, not close yet, promise," he bites his lip, keeping his eyes screwed shut, sheets between his fingers practically ripping before you continue,

choosing to believe him you keep up the previous pace, squeezing your fingers tight around the tip of his cock on the downstroke and that's when you notice one of his hands abandoning his grip on the poor sheets to cover his mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo, and you know exactly whats happening

He's going to cum, and he lied to you about it

jerking your hand up his cock once more before you let go completely, anticipating his moves when he shoots his head up, hands reaching for his cock and you catch his wrists, pining them above his head, if he had half a mind he would break out of your grip with ease, but he was milliseconds from cumming, not having his usual strength coursing through his body,

"no! Nononono," he's protesting when his back arches, curling in on itself, legs thrashing under your weight as his cock dribbles out long spurts of cum, twitching and throbbing with every string, "Fuuuuck nooo, no, ughhh," he groans at you for ruining his orgasm, whole body twitching, 

dick starting to soften in his own mess against his lower abs,

"you seriously thought you were gonna get away with that? you asked in an incredulous tone, hes pouting, letting out a long groan of your name before tipping his head forward and making eye contact with you,

"That was sooo mean" he pouts, "ive been saving that load..." he whines out, cock still twitching in the aftershocks,

"what was mean, is when I asked if you were gonna cum and you lied straight to my face," you spat, laughing in disbelief, swinging your legs off his torso while his eyes follow your figure, watching you wipe your hands using a tissue from the box you keep on the bedside table, he groans out your name again, "I'm sorryyyy, was feeling sooo good," he tries to justify

giving him a look that screams are you actually serious right now, as you start towards the door, "sounds like you need a pussyban to me," you deadpan, walking through the doorframe out into the hallway,

"WOAH!! woah, woahwoahwoah," practically teleporting his feet on the floor, hastily pulling up his pants as he chases you out of the room, hot on your trail, "baby! baby, haha, let's not do anything drastic now, kay?" he baffles in disbelief, worry laced in his voice. 

[celebtf]

ACTING THE PART

Bob Dylan sat alone in his study, the weight of years pressing down on him. The magazines on the table were filled with photos of Timothée Chalamet, the young actor cast to play him in the biopic of his life. The articles were glowing, praising Timothée’s uncanny ability to capture the essence of Bob’s younger days.

Bob’s lips tightened as he stared at Timothée’s face. The kid had it all—youth, charisma, and a magnetic presence that drew people in. Bob couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He was proud of his legacy, but seeing it embodied so perfectly by someone else stirred something darker in him.

That envy turned into a plan one fateful night when Bob overheard rumors about a man who could make the impossible possible—a modern-day alchemist hidden away in Hollywood’s underbelly.

The alchemist was an eccentric man with wiry hair and a crooked smile. When Bob explained what he wanted, the man didn’t even flinch.

“You want to reclaim your youth? To be someone else?” the alchemist asked.

Bob hesitated. “Not just someone else. I want to be him.”

The alchemist chuckled and handed Bob a small vial of shimmering liquid. “This elixir will do exactly that. But transformations come with a price—one that cannot be undone.”

Bob didn’t care. He handed over a wad of cash and left with the vial, his mind racing with possibilities.

The night before the movie premiere, Bob invited Timothée over for drinks. “Just a little celebration between the two of us,” Bob had said on the phone.

Timothée arrived, all smiles and charm, wearing a loose leather jacket that oozed effortless style. Bob poured them drinks, slipping a drop of the elixir into each glass.

To us,” Bob said, raising his glass.

“To us,” Timothée replied, flashing a bright smile as he took a sip.

The effect was almost immediate. Timothée’s smile faltered, and his hand trembled, causing the glass to slip and shatter on the floor. “I… I don’t feel so good,” he murmured, gripping the edge of the table. His breathing became labored, his eyes wide with confusion.

“Timothée?” Bob asked, feigning concern, though his heart raced with anticipation.

Timothée’s knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. His arms trembled violently, then began to flatten, the bones disappearing as his skin turned impossibly smooth. His fingers fused together, his hands shrinking into shapeless stubs that flopped uselessly against the carpet.

“What… what’s happening to me?” Timothée gasped, his voice trembling. His legs followed suit, collapsing inward as the muscles and joints vanished. His torso compressed, the sharp definition of his chest and abs smoothing out until his entire body was a single, seamless piece of glossy black material.

Timothée’s face twisted in a mix of horror and disbelief as his neck and head began to shrink. “Bob, help me!” he cried, his voice growing faint and muffled as his features blurred, then vanished entirely.

In moments, there was nothing left of Timothée Chalamet—nothing human, at least. Where the young star had been, a sleek black leather jacket lay crumpled on the floor, its silver zippers glinting under the room’s dim light.

Bob knelt down, picking up the jacket with reverence. It was soft and supple, with a faint warmth that hinted at the life it had once contained. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, marveling at the craftsmanship of the transformation.

“Perfect,” Bob whispered, draping the jacket over the back of a chair.

Bob downed the rest of his drink, the elixir’s taste sharp and metallic on his tongue. A tingling sensation began to spread through his body, starting in his chest and radiating outward. He staggered to the mirror, clutching the edges of the sink as his reflection began to shift.

First, the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, the deep lines around his eyes and mouth fading away. His sagging skin tightened, taking on a youthful glow. His wiry hair darkened, the gray strands retreating as thick, tousled waves cascaded down to frame his face.

He gasped as his shoulders straightened, the stoop of age vanishing in an instant. His chest expanded, firm muscles filling out his once-slender frame. He pulled at his shirt, watching in awe as his arms grew lean and strong, the veins standing out against his skin.

Bob’s hands trembled as he touched his face, now angular and sharp like Timothée’s. His jawline was defined, his lips fuller, his eyes bright and clear. He ran his hands down his torso, feeling the hard ridges of his abs beneath his shirt.

“This… this is incredible,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. He paused, clearing his throat and speaking again. “Incredible,” he repeated, but the voice wasn’t his own. It was Timothée’s—smooth, youthful, and confident.

A laugh bubbled up from his chest as he tested his new voice. “Hello, Hollywood,” he said, grinning at his reflection. “I’m Timothée Chalamet.”

He pulled off his shirt, unable to resist the urge to admire his new body. His fingers traced the sharp lines of his collarbone and the firm curves of his muscles. He flexed his arms, watching the definition shift beneath his skin.

“Damn,” he said, turning to get a better look at his back in the mirror. “I’ve outdone myself.”

Bob reached for the leather jacket—Timothée’s former form—and slid it on. It fit perfectly, hugging his new body like a second skin. He turned back to the mirror, running a hand through his dark hair and adjusting the jacket’s collar.

He smirked at his reflection, his confidence swelling. “Move over, kid,” he said. “There’s a new Timothée in town.”

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

some mistakes get made

pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!fem!reader

warnings: smut, spanking, cock warming, overprotective rafe, praise, unprotected sex

summary: after sneaking out to a party you knew rafe wouldn’t allow you to go to, you come home to a very angry boyfriend.

authors note: i literally wrote this in 20 minutes so it might suck

not edited ..

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“rafe please, please baby. ‘m sorry,” you cried. “i promise i’ll never do it again.”

he laughed and held your hips down tighter against his, making you squirm and your legs shake. “i know you won’t. unless you wanna go through this again.”

“please, do something. anything. just move,” you begged weakly. you were frustrated. extremely frustrated just sitting there on his lap with his cock stuffed deep inside you.

he tsked. “watch the movie, baby.”

you slyly began to roll your hips, trying to alleviate the pressure in your stomach. he slapped your ass harder than the previous times, making you jump and lean in closer to him.

the tears began flowing down your cheeks. you’d been sitting like this for an hour now and you wanted him to move so bad. you’d do anything to feel him moving inside you. “please, rafe. i want you so bad.”

“yeah? just like you wanted to go to that party real bad?” he asked, his hand wrapping around your throat and forcing you to look at him. “get off me and lay down over my legs.”

you whined when he slipped out of you and left you with an empty feeling but hurried to lay over the tops of his legs with your ass up and bare stomach over his skin. before you could apologize any further, both hands came smacking down on your cheeks.

you jolted forward, crying even harder at the sting it left behind. “go ahead, baby. count em’ out for me.”

you weakly blurted out numbers all the way to 20. and by now, your ass was a fiery shade of red and it stung like hell. “bend over the couch,” he ordered.

you whimpered as you pushed yourself off his legs and kneeled down onto the carpeted floor beside him. you bent over at the waist, your top half laying on the cushioned couch while your knees dug into the carpet and your ass was on display.

“now you knew not to go to that party, correct?” he asked. you nodded.

that earned you another slap to your already burning ass. “yes,” you sobbed. “i did.”

“but you snuck out anyway. how many times did i tell you not to go?”

you hid your face in your arms. “five.”

“that’s right,” he said as his hands soothed over your burning skin. “and now, you’re gonna cum for me five times. and you’re gonna take everything i give you and not be a little brat about it, got that pretty girl?”

you nodded and gulped when you felt his warmth behind you. “yes.”

“good girl,” he mumbled before stuffing you full in one thrust. “see, baby. i knew you knew how to listen.”

he began thrusting into you roughly, driving your hips into the couch and making you cry out.

his hands found purchase on your ass as he pounded into you. you whimpered loudly at the sting his hands were causing against your already bruised flesh.

“rafe,” you cried out. “rafe please. i’m—‘m sorry. i swear.”

he stopped for a moment, pushing his hips as close as they could go to yours. “remember what i said, baby? take what i give you. don’t start with that apologizing bullshit.”

you cried harder when he began pounding into you again, triggering your first orgasm when he hit that spot inside you that had your toes curling and legs shaking.

you were in for a long night.

[stubz]

Storyteller

"Hello Max, I'm here to surprise Pollix with a early pick up."

"Oh how nice, although I don't know if he'll want to go right now."

"Why not? Is he in the middle of a game?"

"No, its story time."

The tighalax smirks. "You really think he won't want to come because of 'story time'?" he laughs.

"Just look and see." the human smiles.

The teacher leads the giant feline being through the child centre to a corner where a colorful and beautiful plush carpet lays on the floor. Not that you could see it as it was covered by sitting younglings. All entranced by the human standing before them telling them a story rather animatedly and loudly.

"Pollix, lets go." calls Dux, looking at his cub.

Not even a glance.

"Pollix."

An ear twitch but still no look.

"...Pollix!"

The whole class looks including Kim.

"Oh, Pollix, your dad is here."

"Papa, not yet! The story isn't done." whines the cub.

"...you want to finish the story?"

"Pollix wants to finish the story! Jax and Morgana are fighting the monster now!" cries Nova.

"...is it almost over?"

"Oh, um, almost but, Pollix I can tell you the rest tomorrow-"

"My Papa says its okay!" Pollix cries interrupting Kim

"...is it okay if I...?" trails a very embarrassed Kim.

The tighalax nods and actually goes to sit next his cub. The sight making Max snort as the 8 foot tall feline like being towers over the younglings. After he settles in and Pollix snuggles in on his Papa's lap he gives Kim the okay to continue.

"...story teacher!" whines the children, their teacher taking too long for their liking to continue the story.

"Oh...right...okay then." she mutters, face red from nerves and embarrassment. This was the first time a parent saw her tell a story.

"...the monster roared at our heroes, swinging his mighty axe down at them. Flung into the air our hero, Jax, is grabbed by the giant's fist and thrown into the monster's mouth." The cubs gasp as the human acts out the catching their hero. Her voice slowly getting louder again.

"NO!"

"What does Morgana do?!"

"Is he dead?!"

"Morgana, seeing that the villain ate her friend charges at him as soon as she lands. Her sword drawn and ready, her face angry, eyes full of tears, and with a mighty cry leaps at the giant." She begins to act out the story, going back to her story telling enthusiasm.

"The monster in turn swings his axe at her, with her in the air it will definitely hit her. The axe hits Morgana and she falls to the ground badly hurt...but not without killing the beast. At the last moment she gathers all her magic into her sword and throws it at the giant monster, piercing his evil heart!" cries Kim, thrusting her hand out as if she had just thrown the very sword.

"...and then..." whispers Nova.

"The monster fades away, revealing a hurt but alive Jax. Seeing Morgana he drags himself to her and they hug, happy to see each other again. Even if they're both not in one piece. The healers arrive and the two head home where they continue the rest of their adventure together, as they were always meant to be. The end."

The cubs cheer with most asking for another story.

"No, no more stories for today. Let's give Kim a break, okay, she's already told you 4 stories." Max ushers the kids towards the toys.

"That was a very good tale teacher Kim, I never knew Earth had such interesting history."

"Hmm? Oh that wasn't our history."

"A legend or folktale then?"

"No, just a made up story."

"Ah, could you tell me the name of it? I would like to read it to Pollix at home, it sounded very interesting."

"Oh uh, I actually just made it up." the human smiles.

"You made it up!? How long ago? Must have taken you ages." Praised Dux, tail flicking in excitement.

"Actually I just made it up now, I make the story up as I go."

"...you make it up as you go...y'know that offer to quit your job and join my pack still stands right? Our planet and culture greatly value Storytellers such as yourselves, you could even make a great living if you worked for me."

"Thanks but I don't think I could ever do that, I hate public speaking!" grins the human.

"...but you just-"

"Children are the exception."

[dark-and-kawaii]

Did you see Rolan and his bruised face because of that prick of a wizard 😡 I would give him all the loving so he knows how much he’s loved after

༺ 𝒜𝓅𝓅𝓇𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝑒𝒹 ༻

Rolan

Note: I didn’t see it my first playthrough because he got clapped °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ;)՞° oopsy!!! However I did see it my next run and it was so heartbreaking to witness ˙◠˙

Summary: Once Lorrokan is dead you decide to show Rolan just how much he’s appreciated.

NSFW - Comfort - Rolan Deserves All The Love

Rolan's eyes went wide as you gave him a push, "What're-" Who knew that pushing Rolan down onto the scattered pillows in Ramazith's tower would be so satisfying? "I already told you it's nothing for you to worry about! I'm quite fine!" As he sank into the plushness of the pillows, Rolan attempted to push himself up from the floor, but you weren't going to let that happen. Oh no, not after discovering the pain he endured under Lorroakan. His bruised cheek served as a painful reminder, and you refused to let this man, your tiefling, go unappreciated.

Straddling his lap, you pressed down on his chest, causing his back to hit the pillows again. "Just relax, my sweet Rolan," you whispered in a sensual voice, grinding your hips into him. Leaning down, you pressed your lips against his battered cheek, tracing it with your tongue. A groan escaping your lips as you felt his hips shift.

Rolan grabbed your arms, attempting to sit up, but you used all your strength to keep him pinned beneath you. "Rolan, please... Let me take care of you." You bit his neck, grinding into his clothed groin, your pace quickening.

Rolan's stuttering voice was so beautiful, you just loved how flustered he got so easily, "Th-this isn't the time nor place!" Looking over, his eyes catch sight of his deceased abuser, still fresh. It felt so wrong for him to be laying beneath you while there was still fresh blood on the carpet just a few feet from him... But with your lips on his neck, your hips rocking against his, damns he hated how feeble you made him, "This is wrong".

You felt a sense of pride as you gradually got him to relax. Beneath you, Rolan's face flushed, one hand trying to cover his face but you could see his breath coming from his lips. He looked so gorgeous, a mess beneath you.

Driving back onto his cock, you felt it swell within you, knowing Rolan was on the edge of orgasm.

"R-Rolan!" Your moans grew louder with each forceful thrust. It wasn't just the girth, but the length of his cock that made you moan. You could feel it hitting your cervix with every thrust or when you slammed back down onto him.

"Hng-!" Rolan's voice was barely audible, sweet noises escaping him as he struggled to hold back his orgasm, his hand loosely covering his face still, an attempt to hide what he considers his indecent expressions, "N-not- ah- not inside you!"

Your face flushed a deep red, your nails trailing down his chest. "P-please, I'll do an-anything! C-cum inside me, Rolan! Please!" Your belly starts to tighten, you can feel yourself ever so close to that sweet release. Each bounce causing a gush of slick to escape your cunt while your toes curl.

The need for release consumed you both. Rolan's resistance wavered as his resolve weakened, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his veins. His breathing ragged as he surrendered to the intoxicating sensations. With a low growl and a flick of his tail, Rolan finally gave in to his urges. His body tensing, and you could feel him pulsating within you, his hot seed spilling deep into your waiting depths.

A mix of moans and cries filled the room as sweet release washed over you both. Waves of pleasure crashed through your bodies, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, but you enjoyed every second of it, your bodies locked in a passionate embrace.

As the euphoria subsided, you collapsed onto the pillows beside Rolan, your bodies entwined and covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was filled with the heady scent of sex and the blood from before the moment.

Breathing heavily, you turned to look at Rolan, his face still a deeper red than his own skin, there was a small pool of drool in the corner of hip lips, his eyes shut while he sucks air into his lungs. In that moment, you knew that you had given him the release he so desperately needed, knew that you made him feel like the only man in the world, and you were grateful to have been able to provide him with such pleasure.

[dostoevskya]

アルミン — STUCK IN THE MIDDLE.

꩜ [ attack on titan ] armin arlert x reader (ft. eren and mikasa)

wc: 800+

-> third person pov; crack and fluff; established relationship; heavy eremika themes; breakups and getting back together; being supportive for your newly-separated friends 👍

now playing… i don’t love you by my chemical romance

“WHEN YOU GO, AND WOULD YOU SAY, ‘I DON’T LOVE YOU LIKE I DID YESTERDAAAAY’?”

armin cringed at the cacophony that was eren’s heartbroken voice. he watched on pitifully as his best friend hunched over a cheeseburger and inharmoniously cried out to a my chemical romance song.

it was a bit past 11pm, and they were parked outside the downtown wendy’s. the parking lot was deserted save for armin’s blue mini cooper, but the fast food chain’s neon “open 24/7” sign still flickered underneath the february stars. the highway was silent, aside from the occasional speeding SUVs.

between the chorus and the next verse, eren’s voice cracked, and he choked on a french fry. armin punched his back and successfully dislodged the offensive potato wedge from eren’s throat.

eren sniffed, giving up on attempting to (unsuccessfully and painfully) duet gerard way. his red-rimmed eyes flickered to armin, tears threatening to spill over his waterline again. “why couldn’t she just admit it?” his voice shook, thick with snot and emotion. “why-“ he didn’t finish his sentence, and instead turned to the window and held his fist up to his trembling lips.

it was the second time this year, and it was barely even march yet. armin sighed, deeming it best not to reply. as he reached out to turn up the heater, his smartwatch buzzed. a notification came in from his girlfriend.

[ 1 new message! ]

from: (username)

hi hon. you doing ok?

“i’m gonna step outside for a while, eren, i’ll give you some... space,” armin murmured awkwardly, hurriedly stepping out of the stuffy car before eren could reply.

the crisp air of the dying winter sent a small chill through his body, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him. he took out his phone and pressed call.

“(name)?” he said weakly into the phone.

“yeah, hi,” she replied. the sound of something being moved around echoed from the other line, but armin sighed in relief upon hearing her voice, sagging against the mini’s door. “how’s it going?”

“terribly.” his blue eyes darted to eren, who had reclined the passenger seat and had taken to staring up into the car’s ceiling in a dissociative state. “eren has been belting MCR songs for the past hour and choked on his food more times than i can count. he’s, uh... dissociating right now, i’m pretty sure.”

(name) snorted at that, then he felt the phone vibrate against his ear. he quickly accepted the FaceTime invite and was greeted by her exhausted face.

“tell me about it,” she remarked exasperatedly. armin could hear familiar music playing faintly in the background and it got louder as (name) continued to walk to the living room.

“is that mitski?” he asked incredulously, carefully walking away from the car so eren wouldn’t see that he was on video call.

she said nothing, instead sending him a deadpan look before flipping the camera.

lo and behold, there lay mikasa ackerman, draped unceremoniously over the armrest of the couch. the lower half of her body was spread limply across the seats, but her abdomen and head hung suspended over the leather Lawson arm. ‘i bet on losing dogs’ played on repeat for the umpteenth time.

“oh.”

“yep,” (name) flipped the camera again and offered a perplexed smile. “she’s been like that all night. i’m not sure if she’s still breathing.”

“that’s dark,” armin chuckled nervously.

“no, seriously,” she retreated back into the hallway, then slid down against the wall to sit on the carpeted floor. “the position she’s in really gets the blood rushing to your head and makes it super hard to respirate because of the angle your stomach is held at.”

armin blinked. “i don’t think i even want to know why you know that.”

“eh, i’ve been through some stuff,” she shrugged. “anyways. do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

he glanced at the car. “sorry, hon, i don’t think so,” armin replied apologetically. “eren shouldn’t be left alone right now. the jaegers are out of town for the weekend and zeke’s been working the night shifts at the hospital. if i don’t go with him, he’ll be home alone.”

(name) winced. “ooh, yeah, that’s tough.” she ran a hand over her face and exhaled wearily. “well, doesn’t look like mikasa’s moving anytime soon either, so...”

armin smiled ruefully, sighing in half-amusement. “yeah, no, i get it.”

“yeah...” she echoed, chewing on her lip. “so... i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“hopefully. i have a feeling they’ll be back together by then.”

(name) scoffed, though a corner of her lips turned up. “when do they not?”

armin laughed. “good luck, honey. i love you.”

“same to you, arlert. stay strong. sending thoughts and prayers,” she joked, then smiled at him softly. “i love you too.”

—

and, well, true enough, eren and mikasa made up two days later. just like they always did.

꩜ a/n: wow i finally wrote a fic for the actual loml !! (・□・；) about time, it only took me nearly half a decade LMAOO. here’s my first work of the year! yay!

i thought of this silly idea while talking to my best friend. thank you, moses <3

꩜ taglist: @snowthatareblack , @circeee

———

© dostoevskya 2025. all rights reserved.

please do not copy, edit, or repost any of my works. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

[nateezfics]

111 + 118 + 126 + Jongho - 💋

111 — “just sit on my fucking face already.”

118 — “s-stop leaving marks on my neck. i have a presentation first thing in the morning.” “then i get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”

126 — “why’d you stop?” “because you sounded too fucking good and so i had like, a moment.”

smut/nsfw; oral (f receiving), face sitting, marking; mdni

sex wasn’t necessarily on your mind at first, but after soft kisses turned into a deep, needy make out on your boyfriend’s couch, things quickly escalated.

jongho’s lips traveled down the length of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. you whined above him and your fingers tangled into his hair just as he stopped to suck on a particularly sensitive part of your neck. he was undoubtedly intending to leave marks, something he loved to do when he had you like this. you whined, pushing him away until his mouth detached from your neck. “s-stop leaving marks on my neck. i have a presentation first thing in the morning.”

jongho gazed up at you, and from the way he smirked, it almost seemed like he didn’t even care about your presentation in the morning; like he wanted you to go up in front of everyone with his marks all over your skin. “then i get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”

you huffed. “yes, just anywhere but my neck.” your skin prickled with anticipation as you thought about his mouth all over your skin. you were kissing him again a moment later, your mouths slotting together in a mess of teeth and tongue. clothes fell away rapidly until you were both bare and you were fully seated on his cock.

jongho sucked on the skin between your breasts just as his hands brought your hips down again, cock driving into your cunt in a way that had both of you releasing a string of curses. your chest was littered with his masks, a constellation of red and blue hues. he continued, lips sucking on every inch of skin he could reach while you bounced on his cock.

you were a complete mess already. with his mouth all over you and his cock stretching you wide, you were like a broken record, moans and cries falling from your mouth continuously. you felt too good to even attempt to keep quiet, and quickly you began to tumble towards your release until you felt his hands hold you in place, effectively ripping your orgasm out of your reach. “why’d you stop?”

he groaned into your chest, fingertips digging crescents into your flesh. “because you sounded too fucking good so i had like,” jongho paused and sucked in a breath, “a moment. and god, you’re so tight. i’m about to fucking bust, and i don’t wanna cum this soon.”

you laughed breathlessly while you raked your fingers through his hair. “am i affecting you that much, hm?”

jongho nodded. “god damn it, yes. now get up so i can lay on the floor. i want you to sit on my face. this way, i can make sure you get to cum before i take you on my cock again.”

you did as he said, though hesitantly. you were quick to miss the fullness of his cock, gazing upon it longingly as he situated himself on the carpeted floor. you straddled his waist. “are you sure? i mean, is the floor comfortable enough? we don’t have to —”

“just sit on my fucking face already.” his tone left no room for argument. you situated your thighs on either side of his head before sinking down. his tongue met with your clit and you moaned at the contact. his strong hands gripped your thighs and pulled your cunt further onto his face, leaving him little room to breathe, but he didn’t care. he lapped and sucked at your pussy like a man starved, and with his grip keeping you in place, you could only sit there and yield to the pleasure he gave you. “i’m gonna make you fall apart all over my face, and if you’re good, i’ll let you have my cock again.”

[erosjournal]

Hello, how are you? I have a request for Percy Jackson based on this tiktok (https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMkJLgj8U/) the reader calls Percy by the wrong name, a prank on him, and I would like to know what his reaction would be, thank you

omg yes ! lets do this bb !!

☆ do you call her , almost say my name ?

~ percy jackson x gender neutral reader

~ synopsis : you jokingly call percy the wrong name as a prank. but it sorta hurts him.

~ tw(s) : none :D

"Percy!" You giggled. Today had been a long and difficult day for both you and your boyfriend, so he decided to help you both wind down by attacking you with tickles. You cried from laughter, stomach hurting. "Perce!"

"You're so silly, love!" He teased, continuing to tickle you. You'd both fallen from the couch onto the carpeted floor, rolling around. You decided to get back at this attack by pranking him.

"Morgan stop!" You giggle. Percy's smirk falters into a still face, the blood drawing from it. He stops and sits on his heels. You stay laying under him, breathless from laughing.

"...What did you just say?" He asks quietly, biting his lip nervously. You get up on your elbows, breathing uneasily.

"I said 'Percy stop'." You responded, gently tickling him again. He pushes your arms off of him, still serious.

"No, you didn't." You frown.

"Yes, I did."

"No, you said 'Morgan'. Who's Morgan?" You knit your brows.

"No I didn't, I said 'Percy'."

"No, you didn't! Stop lying to me!" He cried. You raised your eyebrows. Shit, maybe this was too far. He took a shaky breath. "If it's an ex... or someone new you like... that's fine. Just tell me." You felt the pleading in his voice and you frowned. You pulled yourself out from under him and into a hug.

"Sorry, I was trying to prank you. I swear. You can see, I saw this tiktok of a couple doing it," You tried to reason, attempting to get your phone out to show him. He nodded, trembling softly in your arms.

"That wasn't funny."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't do that again."

"Yes sir."

"Promise?"

"I Promise on the River Styx."

"Good. I didn't like that."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"... Alright."

~ an : hi ! i wrote this rq for funsies, and I hope u liked it !! sorry it took a while to come out :D

[stargirllt]

giving pup charlie head pats and belly rubs until his leg starts kicking the air and his tongue’s lolling out while he lets out these belly groans and whines like an actual dog and his cock’s getting hard

hii mika!! sorry i lied i forgot to put it put last night... anyway, i hope uou like it and i miss you 😘 oh and this isnt proofread 😭

sub!charlie, fem!reader, dom!reader, mama/mommy kink, puppy play, i think thats all

"come here pup," you call out towards your boyfriend who was about to go to the gym.

of course, charlie does as you say, like any good puppy would. he sits on the floor in front of the couch where you're seated. 

"yes mama?" 

"you've been such a good pup for me, i think you deserve a reward. you wanna treat?" 

you're voice begins to shift like you're 

talking to an actual dog. as you speak, your eyes wander in between his legs. he is half-hard already and all you've done is talk.

he nods, eager to be rewarded. 

"speak."

"yes mama, please can i have a treat?"

"one more thing first, puppy. lay down for mama."

he obeys, laying down right there on the carpet. You slip down your shorts and underwear (his old boxers), and slowly lower yourself onto his face, facing away from him.

you begin to grind down against his face while stroking his meaty thighs. he's using his tongue on your soaked cunt like a well trained puppy. and fuck, he's good at it too. so good that you're getting close almost immediately, letting out low moans while you speed up the pace on his mouth.

he whines into your pussy, barely audible through your own moans. 

"are you close mama?"

"fuck yeah, puppy. The faster you go, the faster you get your treat."

there it was, the last straw. he speeds up to an ungodly pace, licking and kissing at your entrance while his nose poked perfectly against your clit. The sudden change of pace has you cumming on his face in seconds.

when you've finally come down from your high, you crawl off of him and softly pet his head while he catches his breath.

"did so good f'me pup, you ready for your treat?"

"yes mama, need it so bad." 

"mama's gonna let you fuck her, okay puppy?" 

"yes mama, wanna be inside you so bad, please."

"calm down, puppy. mama's gonna get on all fours, want you to come fuck her from behind, pup."

he just whines in reply, sounding like an actual dog once again. 

You crawl onto all fours and spread yourself for him.

"come get your treat, puppy."

immediately, he's behind you, fumbling with his shorts. he whines and speaks again.

"mama? can i put it inside you now?"

"yeah, puppy. go ahead."

and that he does, immediately pushing into you and beginning to hump you like the dog he is. while he fucks you, he mumbles sweet things about you and how good you make him feel.

"fuck mama, feels so good. love you so much, make sure i get exactly what i wanted."

despite being a puppy, he fucks like a rabbit when he's needy. which is right now. that's why he whines like a dog when he cums inside your sopping cunt. he pulls out and flops down next you, the only things he's able to say are just soft whimpers and cries.

you stand and clean both him and yourself up before he notices you even moved. you sit down next to where hes laying and start to softly scratch at his scalp and behind his ears. he gets visibly more excited when your soft pats turn to you rubbing his belly. his leg lifts up in the air and shakes. He whines at the stimulation, and his tongue lolls out of his mouth like dog with its head out the window.

"what a good boy, puppy!" 

the second your movements slow, he begins to drift off. 

"hey char, baby, get up"

"mphhd"

"you cant sleep in the floor, we can go to bed though."

"mmkay"

you lift him onto his feet and help him into your bedroom. the two of you lay on the bed, his head in your lap.

[muffinsin]

Cassandra x fucked up/psychopathic reader

Prompt: Cassandra gets herself someone with little to no morals, someone violent and appreciative of her sadistic tendencies

(Fem reader)

Warning for: Violence, partly NSFW content

Idea inspired and matched by @fantasy-relax . Go check out their take of the story written in the reader’s POV! I absolutely loved it, and I’ll link it here! :) I highly recommend reading it too, as it’s a direct counterpart to this!

Let’s get into it! ;)

Masterlists

Cassandra gasps in shock when she spots the small scratch on her sword. Immediately, this shock turns to anger.

“Hey!”, she yells, relishing in the wide, fearful eyes that land on her.

“"Look what have you done! My favorite sword has a scratch! You useless woman!", she curses.

She grabs the sword tightly, her gloved hand running alongside the blade. It’s not even close to being as sharp as it is meant to be!

Is this foolish imbecile trying to sabotage her?!

" I'm s-orry Lady Cassandra my arm was tired and I-AHH"

Cassandra laughs at the scream that follows, the fearful eyes widening in terror.

The cut made by the sword was fast and made with lethal precision. The arm rests on the soft carpet, and it draws more laughter from Cassandra.

She crackles at the sight of the imbecile falling to her knees, more and more tears spilling down her red cheeks.

"Not tired anymore I bet", she snickers. More screams and cries follow.

Please this, please that. Please spare me, please, please, please, please. As if the word has any meaning to Cassandra at all. She merely rolls her eyes at it. If her prey was a little more entertaining with her begging, at least!

She inspects the bloody blade, a sick smile coming to her lips.

Perhaps, it was sharpened properly after all. She shrugs it off. The scratch still lays beneath the blood!

With a large grin on her face, she steps to the kneeling woman again, her hand reaching out to grasp the little bit of her upper arm that is left.

Again, the woman is howling in pain.

With a quick cut to her other arm, it also falls to the floor. Cassandra crackles as blood spills and splutters in her face.

Now she sees the twitching fingers of the unattached arms, she giggles. She should’ve probably broken them first, but this one is really testing her patience!

With another slash to her chest, the woman screams again. She falls on her back, and Cassandra laughs loudly at the image. With no arms remaining, she can barely squirm away.

“Poor, little maid”, she states mockingly. Like a turtle turned on its shell.

She allows to drop the sword to the floor. It is in need of proper sharpening now!

Instead she brings out her sickle. She relishes in the fear that surrounds the maimed woman.

The maid keeps screaming, until Cassandra at last is done with her and cuts her head in another clean swipe of sickle.

She smirks to herself, yet nearly jumps in surprise upon hearing a hum.

In the doorway, stands another maid.

Golden eyes catch yours, and she gives you a sadistic smile.

"What is it, little morsel? Want to be next?", the taunts, giggling. Oh, two victims in such short times? Ah, and you practically ran into her arms!

She’s crackling with delight.

Rising from the floor, she walks up to you slowly, circling you such as a predator would their prey.

She licks the blood off her sickle, golden eyes wide in excitement. You smell so well already! Perhaps she would let you run along, merely to chase after you. Not that you’d stand a chance against her, of course.

She’s just about ready to raise her sickle to your pretty face when unexpected words fall from your dry lips.

"That was a clean cut my lady, you have a steady hand"

She freezes.

What?

Cassandra is left dumbfounded, her eyes, even with her lazy eye, wide as you easily walk past her and inspect the body.

You bend over it, and all she can do is watch.

What the?

She thinks she is just ready to catch herself again, to resume taunting you and kill you when another comment comes from you.

"You also have to be pretty strong or have a sharp weapon to make this so smoothly"

She finds herself frozen yet again, her flies buzzing in excitement beyond her control.

What’s going on?

She resists the urge to tell you, proudly, that the weapon was rather blunt and it was her sheer strength that allowed her to maim, then kill.

You’re standing now, and it’s as your eyes bore into hers. She doesn’t understand.

Why are you praising her for this? Maids usually cry at her sight. The staff calls her a monster.

And why is she liking your praise this much?! You’re a lowly maid! She shouldn’t be accepting compliments from the likes of you! What if her sisters found out? What if her mother was to fi-

Another comment.

"Truly impressive"

This one makes her chest feel light. Her eyes widen for a moment when she feels her cheeks heating up beyond her control and her flies buzz purr loudly.

Quickly, she swarms away, more and more until she is in the safety of her room.

Her prey is long forgotten as she falls into her large bed, face flushed and an uncomfortable ache in her chest and between her legs.

She groans at both.

With her blush only increasing and embarrassment taking over her, she swarms out of her dress and tends to the sudden wetness between her thighs.

Cassandra doesn’t know why she’s even doing this! She shouldn’t!

It’s a waste of time!

She’s only doing this to scare you!

You deserve to be scared!

She’s just proving things to you!

She definitely isn’t doing this to receive words of praises from you again…!

Still, she holds the unattached leg of a maid tightly, her scalpel making clean cuts into the soft flesh.

"How is this cut for you?", is carved inside in no time. She knows, it’s petty! Hell! She’s feeling petty!

“Pretty cut, bla bla!”, she curses. “I’ll show you this cut!”

You will have to falter in fear with this one! How dare you not fear her?! She’s going to show you! She will give you reasons to be afraid!

A petty pout turns to a wide, excited grin, she drops the leg in front of your door and knocks her gloved knuckles against it quickly and hard.

She feels her excitement bubbling in her chest.

She resists the urge to giggle when she hears you move about and quickly swarms to the ceiling, her dark golden eyes wide and curious as she clings to the wall.

Cassandra nearly curses herself for the blush on her cheeks. Stupid, stupid blush!

She can’t stop thinking of your words from yesterday. Your praise…

Cassandra bites her lip hard as she frowns and pouts.

She isn’t doing this to hear you praise her work!

At last, you are outside the door. Cassandra frowns when you pick up the leg with no qualms at all. Not even a little shriek? She could groan and growl in her aggravation!

Then, her breath hitches when you read her message aloud, a small smirk on your lips: "How is this cut for you?". Your voice is pretty…you are.

Cassandra squeaks suddenly at your next choice of words.

"Aww, My lady is pretty cute"

She’s blushing hard again, her entire face warm and pink, all the way up to the tips of her ears!

Cute?!

Cute?!

CUTE?!

She hasn’t- she’s never- never had anybody-

Cassandra’s eyes widen when you look up, her swarm quickly flying away. She still hears your soft laughter and nearly swarms face first into a chandelier.

Cassandra hums to herself as she cleans her sickle of blood again, when she suddenly hears some unlucky maid walk down the steps to the basement. She grins in anticipation.

Ah, what poor, unfortunate soul have they sent to clean this time?

She walks slowly, yet finds herself frozen in her spot again when she realises it’s you.

You’re inspecting one of the maids, one Cassandra has just finished playing with. She gulps.

What’s going on in your mind? Why are you just watching in wonder?

She prays there will be no blush appearing on her face this time.

She straightens her posture a little, forcing herself to fall back in her confident, predatory state.

"Seeing your future, little maid?", she hums. Golden eyes flicker with excitement when you flinch and she hears your heartbeat rate increase.

Ah, she knew she could scare you! She smirks confidently and hums in delight as she steps closer to you.

"I make sure to keep her miserable as long as possible by-

"Making cuts that are painful but not mortal, absolute brilliant, nothing less of expert like you"

Cassandra feels flustered yet again. What? What?!

She stands with her lips parted, her words having died on her tongue. Thankfully, you aren’t facing her.

She feels her cheeks burning as your fingers graze her arm to move her aside, and in her shocked state, feels herself move back when you push her hip and arm gently.

She watches, dumbfounded, as you take a look around. You seem so curious! So admiring of her work! It’s making her feel so flustered!

She growls, quietly, as though demanding to stop her body from reacting this way! She already feels the pull in her chest and the ache between her legs, the warm feeling on her cheeks.

She recalls her sisters’s words and growls again. She does not have a crush!

Cassandra Dimitrescu does not get such silly things as crushes! Even on a goddess like you…

She watches with more curiosity than she’d like to admit as you inspect one of her recent victims, a man-thing, held up by hooks that go through his hands.

He’s gagged, to stifle his annoying whimpers and cries. Cassandra has grown tired of hearing them.

She tenses when you poke his broken legs and giggle to yourself.

"Very creative", you admire.

Cassandra, happy you aren’t facing her, pulls her hood all the way down in an attempt to stop and hide her blush.

She’s purring, but hopes you’re unable to hear it. For a moment, she hits her own chest, as though to make the purring stop.

Of course, it doesn’t.

Full of curiosity, it seems, you keep exploring.

Praises fall from your lips like droplets from a waterfall, each making Cassandra feel more and more flustered and needy. She shouldn’t be so flustered at this! And she definitely shouldn’t be getting turned on for this!

"Astounding"

"Visionary"

"Imaginative"

Her swarm buzzes so loud, she knows you must hear it soon. Upon finding you’re starting to turn around, she quickly grabs you as a swarm and carries you out the door.

This is a first, she thinks with a blush, Cassandra throwing someone out of the dungeons.

"Rude", you remark as she drops you rather ungracefully and disappears back down.

She swarms until she is able to shut a door behind her, her back sliding against it as she sinks to the floor.

Cassandra’s face is burning bright pink and her flies buzz all too happily. She wishes she could fight the large grin on her lips as she hugs herself and pulls her hood down to cover her face again.

In the following days and weeks, Cassandra can’t help but gift you more limbs.

She can’t help but want to shower you in gifts. You’re so…perfect…she thinks with a dreamy sigh.

Upon finding that human ones are often praised and returned to her, she opts for gifting you animal meat instead. This one, you praise her for too, knowing she is spying, and even cook!

She recalls a couple of her gifts for you

A deer leg with the words “you have pretty eyes” carved inside. She remembers nearly falling from her spot at the ceiling when you read it out loud and hummed: “Mhm, my favourite colour has always been a dark gold”

Those were her eyes!

Her blush only went away hours after you said that!

A boar heart. She spent hours looking for one and was so proud to gift it to you with the attached note written in blood: “Did you know they are the most similar to humans?”

She nearly gasped upon seeing the fond smile on your lips and hearing the pretty giggle.

A full, juicy bunny. “Small like you”, written in blood. She had blushed at the small that was pulled from you.

This goes on for a small while, until one day a group of hunters try to raid the castle and kill the monsters inside.

Of course, they pose no challenge to Cassandra at all!

She crackles in delight, even, at the opportunity to kill this many!

Still, she’s pouting angrily. Daniela has six already! Bela has five and a few spare limbs! And her? Cassandra has only caught four so far.

She curses under her breath. Why must she be slower than her sisters?! She trains by far harder than them! It’s unfair!

With a start as she looks at one of the dead maidens on the floor, she remembers you.

She realises, unlike her, your life is in danger! Was, seeing as the intruders are now taken care of.

Bodies, blood and all kind of gore is in the floors and the carpets of the castle. Cassandra is unbothered by it. She must find-

Golden, dark eyes widen in delight when she first smells, then sees you kneeling on the floor at the main hall.

You’re well! At least she assumes as much.

In her worry, Cassandra can’t help but pounce. She tackles you to the floor easily, her body on top of yours, her thighs on each side of your hips as she leans down to inspect your beautiful face.

"Are you okay?! Did they hurt you?! Tell me who-"

"I'm fine lady bela take care of them", you interrupt gently. She calms down a little, yet frowns again when she sees the three bodies piled on one another in the corner of the hall.

"You took three", she states, curious.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me" You point at the three bodies, and she follows it. They’re all of decent size, and she’s quite impressed that you were able to take them on.

Quite refreshing, for a human.

"They are all yours, Lady Cassandra"

Her eyes snap back to you in surprise.

Hers? A gift? For her?

She smells their blood when she inhales…they smell scrumptious! She wants to take them, so bad. Yet…

There is a rule among the three sisters, to avoid fights, or at the very least lessen them.

Only the prey they hunt can be eaten by them. No sharing, no taking another sister’s prey. She blushes as she is once again reminded of her pathetic four bodies.

Then, she perks up. With your three, this would make seven! She’d have caught the most!

She knows, she is stronger than them…just not faster.

"I killed them, so they are mine, but I’m not gonna eat them, so they are all yours”, you reason. Cassandra blushes again.

She eyes the corner with the pile of bodies and grins widely again. Yes! She accepts! Mother will be so proud! Her sisters will be envious!

You…are so painfully adorable, perfect, hot and make her feel so flustered…

She gasps audibly above you when you grasp her chin tightly.

She keeps staring at you, golden eyes wide when you lift your apron to her face and begin to clean the blood around her lips.

She feels your thumb slide across them and can’t help but attempt to press her thighs together- something that clearly does not work with your hips between them.

Her face is bright red, pink cheeks and tip of her ears, an entirely flushed and warm face.

“Cute”, you whisper, and she really wishes she could’ve stopped that squeak that came from her.

She gasps when your hand moves from her chin and grabs the back of her neck instead, and with wide eyes, she feels herself be yanked downwards and to your lips.

After a second or so, she at last catches up and eagerly returns your kiss.

She’s moaning and whimpering, panting against your lips. She’s so flustered, and yet can’t help but grin and hold onto your hips tightly.

"FINALLY, the pining was killing me!”

You and her jump at the sudden voice in the main hall.

She’s covering you with her body, as though to protect you from an attack.

Instead, Cassandra blinks when her warm cheeks are smudged by her younger sister’s palm.

Quickly, she snarls at her and rips her face free.

"SHUT UP, DANIELA!”

From there on, you’re in a relationship. Cassandra eagerly brings you more and more gifts and shows you her appreciation for your praise in just the right ways.

She appreciates, too, when you bring her gifts.

Often, these include bratty maidens or animals you find out in the garden. Sometimes, rarely, you find her a rose and dip it in blood for her. She’s blushing endlessly when it is gifted to her. It’s beautiful!

She sits next to Daniela, rolling her eyes and acting as though she isn’t listening when her sister tells her of her latest book.

Suddenly, you come into the library, dragging a maiden behind you. Her eyes sparkle in delight! Lunch and a gift!

"Knock first! I know you have manners", Daniela fumes.

Cassandra snickers. She coos at you and resists the urge to get up and cup your cheeks. Like hers, they are flushed red. Yet while hers is the result of feeling flustered, she feels your heart beat angrily.

Still, she teases eagerly.

"Aww, did my draga mea miss me so much?”, she coos.

You seem to ignore her words, but certainly not her.

Pride blooms in her chest as you walk up to the table and grip her sickle.

The maid you’re carrying is dropped, crying and begging as she attempts to get away from you and the two murderous sisters.

Daniela rolls her eyes when she hears Cassandra’s heart rate pick up. She just wanted to gossip!

“Oh!”, Cassandra gasps when you grab the crying woman’s head by her hair, pull out her tongue and cut it off swiftly.

She crosses her legs and pushes her thighs together harshly at the ache and sting of her clit.

Never has she seen something this arousing before. Her face is flushed bright pink and she’s panting from only watching you.

"AHH-UGH!”, the pathethic woman cries. Cassandra watches with a dark, sadistic glint in her eyes as you merely grab her again and bash her head against the floor.

Neither her, nor you mind Daniela’s groans about the beautiful floor of her beloved library.

One, two, three, four, five bashes. She is out, and Cassandra feels as though she is drooling and her lips are dry at the same time.

You drop the woman her and walked to the sadist, and she gasps again when you throw the sickle on the table.

All words are taken from her. She can only look at you, her cheeks bright red and pink, her eyes wide and sparkling with love, admiration and arousal.

“Mgmph!”, she moans as her grin is grabbed and you kiss her deeply until she is panting. She feels the blush on her face just grow bigger and warmer at your actions and whimpers at the embarrassing purrs that come from her chest.

Cassandra bites her bruised lip as her gloved hand is grabbed by you, and smiles almost shyly when the tongue of the maimed woman is dropped in her hand.

She’s crying on the floor, bloodied and unable to move. She knows, if she did, Cassandra would be on her within seconds.

"Here my love, a snack", you speak softly. Cassandra blushes even more. She’s thankful Daniela seems to have taken her leave.

She moans when you kiss her again, your warm tongue inside her mouth and dominating hers easily.

She whimpers, almost, when you let go of her and only cup her bright pink, warm cheek.

You brush her hair behind her ear, and Cassandra feels too flustered to meet your eyes for a moment.

"I still have duties to attend, I’ll see you later, draga”, you coo, and she nearly whines again. The pressure between her legs is becoming nearly unbearable. How can you make such a display and then attempt to leave her to her own devices?!

She knows, she must look like a lovesick puppy. No better than Daniela. Oh, but she can’t help it at all!

She grabs your wrist quickly when you turn around, and blushes harder under your gaze. You’re smirking at her when you turn back to her.

“Don’t go…”, she breathes out, her thighs spreading a little. Her head spins when you inhale and kneel before her, your hand boldly squeezing her thigh through the fabric of her dress.

It seems, your duties can wait. They must!

“I-I’m your superior”, she breathes out. “You have different duties to attend to, now”, she adds.

You smirk at the panting woman, and Cassandra bites her lip at your hum.

“If my Lady wishes so…”, you whisper back, a sly smirk on your beautiful lips.

Suddenly, Cassandra feels herself be yanked off the cushioned sofa and onto the floor. She jumps when you lean close, your hand grabbing the crying woman’s bloodied chin.

“You best watch now, bitch. This is the closest you’re getting to your goal, you filth!”

She whimpers at the arousing scene, though feels puzzled. What? She doesn’t quite understand.

“What do you- YA!”, she shrieks when her hair is grabbed by you and you spread your legs.

Pulling down your underwear and tugging up your skirt, you push Cassandra’s head between your thighs.

She moans, your scent is making her feel lightheaded.

“Start, Cass. We don’t have all day”

She presses her thighs together harshly. She’s so wet, she feels it even through her entirely soaked, black panties.

Cassandra jumps when she notices you step on the squirming woman’s lower back, trapping her in place as you grant her a view of Cassandra’s tongue lapping at your folds.

She blushes at this, but knows: the woman won’t last. She will serve her as a snack after the meal she is having just now.

“Mghmm”, she moans, her eyes closing and her hands resting on your thighs.

Cassandra can’t help but thrust her hips forwards as she drags her tongue through your wet folds. She wants- needs- you so bad. And you seem to be in a similar state.

You’re utterly soaked for her, your pussy drooling your arousal and love for her. She’s panting as she licks you over and over again, before she at last wraps her lips around your clit.

Sharp moans and your nails digging into her head are her reward. She moans loudly, the vibrations of her against your clit only adding to the pleasure she grants you.

“Go-ood, keep going”, she hears you groan. You tug her hair sometimes, and she moans at each move.

Cassandra squirms and gasps, sucking and licking your lips all too eagerly.

“Mhmmmn, mhhnnnm”, she moans.

She feels you grind your core against her face, your hips shaking lightly.

The pathethic cries of the woman only fuel her further and add to the dripping wet arousal between her own thighs.

“Mhnnngn, she’s wonderful at this..!”, you groan, and she blushes and squirms again.

She hasn’t got a clue what the maid has done to deserve your wrath, but doesn’t care either. All she can focus on, is your quivering thighs.

With another broad lick across your southern lips, she collects more of your wetness.

“G-Good, so clo-ose”, you moan, and it’s music to her ears. She feels even more shameful and aroused when she pushes her clothed core against your leg, her soaked, panty covered clit rubbing against your ankle as she ruts against you.

She hears you chuckle breathlessly at this. She’s so needy, so pent up…

As her gloved fingertips dig into you slightly and she sucks your clit a little harder, she feels you orgasm against her lips.

Cassandra moans with you, her back arched and her tongue eagerly lapping her remaining meal.

“C’mere…”, you moan, and she obeys eagerly.

With a single pull and push, it’s now her who is smushed against the cushions. Yet, her cheeks burn hotly. Unlike you, she isn’t sitting.

She’s bent over, her chest and face against the cushions, her behind sticking out for you.

She digs her fingertips into the soft material of the sofa when you lift her dress and tear her black, partly transparent tights easily.

“Y-Yes…!”, she groans, eyes rolling to the back of her head at your rough actions. She knows, she’s right on the edge and utterly drenched for you.

“Good girl”, you praise as you tug her black panties off. She feels the air of the room hit her cunt for a mere moment and whimpers in embarrassment when you place your index and middle finger on one southern lip each, then pull them apart to reveal her completely.

Her face burns and her pussy drools.

“See that?”, you pant. She assumes you aren’t talking to her and it’s making her feel even hotter.

“That’s all mine, you fucking bitch. Don’t you forget that ever again!”, you curse. She squirms, and moans hotly when she feels your tongue drag through her soft folds.

Her back is arched and her thick thighs quiver, her fat ass shaking when you slap it playfully.

Cassandra feels so good, right there from all your beautiful teasing and demonstrations.

She moans hotly when a finger is pushed inside of her, then a second follows.

Her pussy grips you tightly, and a wet, squelching sound is heard with each thrust inside.

“A-Ah! Ye-es!! Don’t stop!”, she moans, her voice high pitched and loud. She groans and moans when she feels your lips wrap around her clit and suck it harshly into your mouth.

“Mhnnnm! F-Fuck! Yes yes! YES!”, she screams.

Your fingers thrust in and out of her fast, rubbing her warm insides and curling at her G-Spot as they thrust.

Cassandra sees stars when your teeth graze past her clit.

Soon, by far too fast for her to feel as though she has any of her dignity left, she cums on your fingers and feels a soft pair of kisses pressed against her thighs.

“That’s it, my Cassandra”

Her head spins at the possessiveness in your voice.

[spiritslashrrsadie]

Can you please write a ReaderxSlasher where the reader saw a nightmare about slasher getting hurt/killed? And their reactions to it (Vincent Sinclair included)

Please and thank you. Love your work <3

Nightmares (GN!Reader)

Featuring Vincent Sinclair, Carrie White, and Lester Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

TW: Stabbing, blood, and death

'Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...'

The name echoed in your head like a mantra you'd rather not hear right now. Feet pounded against the cool asphalt beneath your bare feet. The harsh night winds sent bits of dirt and rock flying at your face, beating at the tear stained skin. Your eyes stung with tears and the blood that dripped from your head. Your heart pounded with fear and a level of anger that you had never felt before.

The light from the house up the hill shone dimly like a lighthouse trying to warn the last ship before it collapses.

'Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...'

If it weren't for Bo's cocky attitude, this all would have been over sooner. But Bo needed a challenge, he wanted to properly hunt this out-of-towner. The one that was just a bit bigger than him and Vincent, Bo just needed to get those bragging rights. Now he was knocked out in the gas station, you were bleeding and disoriented and Vincent was alone in the house with that damn guy. Fear didn't even begin to describe how you felt right now, the worst ideas flooding your mind.

What if you were too late? What if Vincent is being beaten to death right now? What if he's being tortured like he did to the man's friends? What if it's too late? What if you lose him?

'Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...'

You shook your head, desperately trying to erase those fears from your mind. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but you couldn't stop running.

You can't lose him.

Reaching the house, you threw open the door and froze, listening close for anything that could tell you where he was. Then, from the bedroom upstairs, grunts and items hitting the floor. You turned on your heel and raced up the steps, the once comforting carpeting now wet and reeking of copper.

'Vincent, Vincent, Vincent...'

In the time that you had been with the Sinclairs, you'd learn to have a strong stomach. You had seen the aftermath of victims that Bo kept for himself. You've helped Lester with clearing out roadkill and tossing it in the pit. You cleaned up blood that had split in the streets and you had even witnessed what happens when one of Vincent's 'creations' had fallen.

You had been a witness to so much horror, horror that you yourself had lived before Vincent decided to keep you.

But to see your beloved, sensitive, and quiet Vincent laying on the ground at the end of the hallway with a knife plunged in his chest was a sight you couldn't stomach. His wax mask was cracked and bloody, his long hair stuck to his neck with a mix of sweat and blood matting it. Blood seeped into the carpet and filled your nose with a scent that overpowered your senses.

'Vincent!'

You hadn't even noticed the scream that was ripped from your throat until you felt the burn in your mouth. You were by his side in an instant, sobs filling the house. Vincent's chest heaved and he was clearly struggling to hold his head up.

"Vincent! Vinny, please! Get up, you can't- you can't leave me like this." You cried out, hands shaking as they're coated in blood.

His blood.

Vincent didn't respond with more than a tired gaze up at you.

"Goddamnit, Vincent!" You screamed as you shook your head.

"You can’t fucking do this to me! You can’t just leave me here!”

A horrible gurgling sound escaped from his lips, blood dripping down his chin. Your heart clenched at the sight and you gripped at his jacket tightly. You held him close and looked up, silently pleading for whatever God there was to save him.

‘Save him and take me. Damn it, just let him live,” you prayed to whoever would listen.

But just like the first time you begged to be released from Ambrose, your pleas fell on deaf ears.

With a painful choke, Vincent’s body went limp in your arms.

Your constant tossing and turning had pulled Vincent from his slumber with a frown. Looking to the side, he saw the distressed expression etched into your features. The way your chest heaved with subtly panicked breaths, the beads of sweat forming on your brow, every sign of distress that made its presence known caused him to tilt his head.

Sitting up, Vincent slowly shook you awake. His touch saved you from the hellscape in your mind. With a heavy exhale, your eyes shot open and looked around wildly. As they landed on the familiar frame of Vincent, your eyes widened and filled with tears of relief.

“V-Vincent?” You practically whimpered, launching yourself into his arms.

Albeit confused, he held you close as you sobbed. His dark hair brushed against your shoulders as he tilted his head down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of yours.

After a moment of silence, he pulled away. He tilted his head and his eyes held a questioning gaze.

“You… Bo, he- I… You died, Vince.” You choked out.

“In- In my dream, you got… someone stabbed you and I couldn’t- I didn’t make it in time.” Your body wracked with sobs, your grip on his shirt tightening.

Vincent sighed softly and patted your head.

‘I’m okay,’ he signed slowly.

‘We’re both okay. It was a dream, don’t worry. Just sleep.’

“Vincent?”

He nodded.

“Promise me that you won’t leave. Not ever, not even in death.”

From behind the mask, he smiled and held out his pinky.

Carrie

TW: Mentions of past abuse, blood, beatings

Standing beside the stage, you smiled brightly at Carrie. Her homemade pink gown seemed to float against her legs and gave her pale skin a glow that had once seemed impossible. After everything she had endured, the endless beatings at home, the cruel pranks and humiliating rituals done by her classmates, and the little in voice in the back of her mind that told her that she deserved it. After all of that, your sweet girl had finally gotten the prom night she deserved. She had won prom queen, everyone else had finally seen the beautiful and kind hearted Carrie that you loved so dearly.

You happened to glance up, a smile on your lips as you prepared to thank whatever higher power had finally shown Carrie the grace that she was so clearly owed. But when you spotted the bucket with a dried streak of red along the side, your heart dropped.

She had told you about this. The night that everything had come crashing down. Senior prom.

Following the trail, you spotted a cord tied to the handle being held by Billy goddamn Nolan. The anger you felt was immeasurable.

'Carrie!' You tried to yell out a warning but it sounded muffled, like you were speaking through a bubble.

Life seemed to slow down. Chris' sadistic smile sent chills down your spine. Her voice was muted but you could see her yell out some demand to her boyfriend before he yanked hard on the cord.

You turned and tried to run towards Carrie, desperate to stop the worst moment of her life from happening. But your feet were rooted to the floor and try as you might, you couldn't reach her.

All you could do was watch in horror and fury as the bucket tipped over and blood splashed all over Carrie.

"Carrie!" Your voice finally found it's footing and Carrie's head whipped in your direction.

Her eyes were wide and tearful, her hands shaking. You took off running towards her, practically leaping onto the stage to her side. You moved to grab hold of her but she staggered back, humiliation and pain on her face.

"Carrie?"

"Mama was right. How could you?" Her voice was laced in hurt and sounded distorted, echoey.

Her eyes seemed to look right through you and you shook your head vigorously.

"Wha-? No! No, Carrie, sweetheart! I- I would never, it wasn't-"

"Why wouldn't we?" A voice said from behind you.

Turning around, you spotted Chris and her friends suddenly behind you. Mocking smirks and cruel laughs painted each face.

The group of tormentors advanced on her, shoving past you like nothing.

"What's the matter Scary White? I thought you'd be used to a little blood by now." Norma sneered, earning heartless laughs from the others.

Carrie shook her head and began to stammer, something that was met with ridiculing stutters. Chris took to the helm of the group once more and eyed her in disgust before shoving her to the floor, blood splashing as she did so.

You watched in horror as the group became more ruthless, spitting on and hurling insults at her in a swirling tornado of torment. Your heart shattered when you saw Carrie curl up into a ball and let out the most heart wrenching sobs. They were cries that you hadn't heard since she told you about the abuse she suffered from at the hands of her religious nut of a mother.

Chris had lifted her foot up by this point and brought it down with a sickening crunch against Carrie's hand. But once again, no matter how hard you fought to, you just couldn't reach out to stop it.

"Sweetheart?" A familiar gentle voice called.

"Are you... are you okay? Please wake up." Carrie's melodic voice pulled you from the nightmare.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly and your thoughts muddled. You turned to see an anxious frown on her face.

"You were having a nightmare, I think. You kept saying my name." She told you.

Overwhelmed by the painful sight, you reached forward and pulled Carrie into a tight embrace. You buried your head into her shoulder and sniffled when the anger tears began to flow.

"You didn't... You didn't deserve any of it, Carrie. You didn't deserve to be hurt and humiliated." You whispered.

You'd heard the story enough to know that your dream was just that, a dream. That wasn't how that terrible night went down but it was still enough to fill you with a deep hatred for Carrie's classmates.

Carrie had gone still for a moment but the words hit her in a way that she would have never expected. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and smiled softly.

"I'm... okay. Now. I have you now so I'm alright."

"I won't let anyone hurt you again, honey."

Carrie chuckled shyly.

"I won't let anyone hurt you either. Not even a silly dream."

You pulled away from the hug and smiled lovingly at her. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Carrie had spent the rest of the night tucked away in your arms. At one point in the night, she extended her arm and with a twist, the radio came on with a low volume, playing a song that she had always found comfort in.

She’s suffered so much in her life. But right now she has you and she vows to herself to not let you go.

Lester Sinclair

TW: Car crash, descriptions of intense bodily harm, blood, mentions of dead animals

Roadkill.

You had been inside one of the houses near the edge of town when you heard it. A metallic screech that shook your bones and made your teeth ache. The rag you were using to wipe down the windows was dropped to the floor as you peered out to see what the noise had come from.

Roadkill.

Wrapped around the tree next to the washed out road was his truck. Glass scattered across the road like raindrops and the carcasses from Lester's last pick up were tossed haphazardly to the floor.

Roadkill.

"Lester!' You yelled his name as you raced down the stairs.

The hot August sun beat down on you in an instant, filling the air with the stench of blood and rotting meat. You sprinted to the driver's side of the car and your blood ran cold at the sight.

Lester's nose was twisted at an unnatural angle, glass stuck out from his face like thorns, and blood poured from his forehead and nose. His Bowie knife was embedded into his hand, pinning it to the seat cushion.

Your stomach churned and you began to yell out for Bo and Vincent to come and help.

The stench of blood was strong, impossibly pungent. But you couldn't tell if the metallic smell was from the animals that had been ripped open by tires on the road or if it was from the awkward and chuckling country boy you'd fallen so madly in love with.

Roadkill.

Your mouth filled with saliva and the back of your throat burned with the threat of vomit when you noticed more details. The right side of Lester's face seemed crunched flat with a tooth poking through just beneath his lip. His chin hung over the steering wheel as if his neck was bending in a perfect curve over it.

But it was his eyes. Those eyes that were so often filled with light, humor, and love for you. They were dull and glassy. They stared up at you with a devastating hopelessness that you had only ever seen in two other places.

Stuck in a casing of wax, permanently fixed on every face of every unlucky tourist that would make a good edition to the collection.

And roadkill.

Lester, who had so often taken the dead animals out of the baking sun. Lester, who could rant and ramble about the different breeds of different cattle. Lester, who always had a knowing smirk when it came to picking up hitchhikers and deer. Your Lester had become the very thing he had spent so much time with.

Roadkill.

"We're here. C'mon, honey." The comforting lull of Lester's accent caught your attention.

He's okay. He's okay and alive and you're in his truck and he isn't hurt.

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief which earned you a strange look from Lester.

"You okay?" He asked.

You swallowed hard and despite the way your shoulders had relaxed significantly at your realization, you just couldn't bring yourself to say yes.

"I... I had a nightmare." You admitted.

You detailed the visions to Lester, from the sound of the crash to the way the blood had assaulted your senses to the devastation you felt when you thought you had lost him forever.

Chuckling lightly, Lester shook his head.

"You ain't gotta worry about me none. I've been drivin' since I was old enough to see over the dash." He replied.

"It's not that, Lester. It's... I don't want to see you get hurt, dream or otherwise."

Lester's smile soften and he blushed a bit.

"Don't you worry. I've made it this long, right? But I'll try and be extra careful behind the wheel. For you. Now c'mon. Bo will be pissed off with us if we let this food get cold 'cause of a bad dream."

He took your hand in his and the sincere look in his eyes told you all that you needed to know. He was safe and that's how he planned to stay. Which seemed to be enough for you.

Thank you sm for the request, lovely! I really appreciate it and I hope I did it at least some justice :) (Can you tell that Vincent was the easiest to write for this?)

[marvelobsessed134]

Plaything

Pairings: Vince Neil x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, use of a gag, vibrator, degradation, dom!vince, sub!reader and I think that’s it.

Summary: Vince wants to play with his girl

Vince has always liked to completely dominate you and humiliate you. So it’s no surprise when you came home to him setting various toys on the bed.

“Oh,” he said casually, “you’re finally home.” The glint in his eyes was dangerous, almost predatory as he stalked towards you.

You gulped, “Vinnie, I’m pretty tired I don’t know-“ he gripped your chin, “You’re gonna let me play with you like the good little slut you are.” You nodded timidly, scared what would happen if you disobeyed.

Your pussy was soaking wet by the time he put the gag in your mouth, securing it tightly. Your hands were bound behind your back, a vibrator sitting in your core. Part of it stuck out and touched your clit.

You sat on your knees, looking up a the singer. He smirked before pressing a button on the remote. Immediately you jolted at the vibrations both hitting your g spot and clit.

Vince loved to laugh at you, play with you like this. He got such a kick out of it. The blonde set the setting higher, making you feel overwhelmed. You squirmed as you felt your orgasm approach you. Your moans and cries were muffled.

Vince was sitting on the chair in the room, facing you, manspreading with the remote casually in his hand. “Go on, baby.” He said, “Go ahead and cum.”

You felt that familiar overwhelming sensation as you came. You tried to catch your breath, laying down on the floor. The vibrations got lower, then got higher once again. Already feeling overstimulated, you sobbed. Rolling around the floor, kicking your legs. Vince was cracking up.

“Look at you, dumb little thing.” He laughed.

You looked at him with glossy eyes, begging for him to stop. But all he did was set it higher.

You banged your head lightly on the carpeted floor. “Poor baby.” Your boyfriend cooed. Finally, he turned it off and walked over to you. He took the gag and vibrator out of you and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips that were drenched with drool. He caressed your chin, “Thank you for letting me play with you baby.”

He then helped you get cleaned up and ready for bed.

[graciegoeskrazy]

are we awake?

(Matty Healy x Daughter!r x George Daniel)

warnings: Some crying, fluff (woah)

a/n: cutesy lil thing for your Saturday :) Thx for requesting anon! I hope this is what you were thinking! (I know who you are🫥)

The past hour and a half had been spent with George and your father watching you run from wall to wall, spilling every toy in the house out onto the floor with chaotic enthusiasm. They’d both convinced themselves you’d tire out eventually, even though all evidence pointed to the opposite.

Every once in a while, you’d run over to George and yank on his arm, pulling him down to the floor with all the stubborn determination you inherited from your father and telling him to “Be the princess, Uncle George!” pressing a Barbie doll into his hand until he adopted a high-pitched voice that made your giggles bubble up and fill the entire room.

George didn’t mind. In fact, he liked the way you smiled so freely with him. But it didn’t take long for the playtime to take a toll.

That’s how they ended up here, sprawled out on the living room floor, defeated by your never-ending energy. Matty’s head rested on the arm of the couch, one arm draped lazily over his face while George lay with his legs splayed out, collapsed and tired from the amount of voices and characters he had to play for you.

“She’s gonna crash any second,” your father said, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. His voice was muffled, his eyes closed as though he could will sleep to overtake him right there on the carpet.

“I don’t know, mate. She’s built different,” George groaned, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. You were busy digging through a pile of blocks and dolls, as if deciding which disaster to unleash next.

“Oh, trust me. She won’t last more than a few minutes more.” Matty tried to convince himself he knew his daughter better than anyone else. And most of the time, he was right.

You barely noticed their conversation, too engrossed in making your Barbie take a dramatic leap from a castle made of couch cushions. When your father finally called your name, it took you a moment to even register he was speaking to you.

“Baby…” Matty coaxed, his voice softer than before.

You turned your head, eyes wide and curious. Under normal circumstances, your face would have made the pair melt, but they were too tired to be swayed by your cuteness this time.

“I think it’s time for a nap,” he said gently.

“Nooooooo.” You whined immediately, your tiny fists clenching as you looked at them with stubborn defiance. The way you said it, all drawn out and dramatic, made George stifle a laugh.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been awake for way too long. It’s time for some sleep now.”

“But, I’m playin’.” You pouted, bottom lip jutting out as if you believed it might save you from the dreaded nap time.

George tried his hand at reasoning with you. “There’ll be so much playing to do after your nap. But for now, you need to rest.” He stood up from the place on the floor and went to you. You winned in annoyance, trying to wiggle of of his grasp as he attempted to settle you on him.

You cried, your little brows knitting together. There was no way you were giving up on your fun, not when you were sure you had so much energy left to burn. Matty exchanged a look with George, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. And then, he did something he swore he would never do.

It was a whole other struggle by itself to get you off of the Paci. Those months of weaning you off were ones Matty would not take back or go through again. But in a moment like this, he was desperate. He went to the kitchen, opening one of the top cupboards and pulling out a tiny basket filled with your old pacifiers.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Because if you sleep now, you can have this.”

When he returned, holding one of the brightly colored binkies out for you to see, your squirming stopped completely. George did a fake gasp behind you, “What’s that, y/n?”

“Paci.” You breathed the word like a secret, like something magical you hadn’t expected to ever see again.

Matty smiled, his relief outweighing any guilt he might’ve felt. “That’s right. Paci.”

You abandoned the Barbie in your hand by throwing it onto the floor, squirming out of George’s grasp and to your father, reaching your hands out eagerly. He scooped you up, settling you onto his hip as you grabbed the binky and wasted no time bringing it to your lips, the old habit not forgotten.

As Matty adjusted you against his chest, you immediately melted into him, your arms winding around his neck and your head tucking just below his chin like you’d done countless times before.

What followed was the quietest the house had been in hours. You didn’t make a sound, your small body finally relaxing against your father’s chest. Matty and George exchanged astonished glances.

“We’re gonna head to your room, yeah?” Matty whispered, his voice barely above a breath. You didn’t nod, but you didn’t fuss either.

The boys moved carefully, tiptoeing between the mess of toys scattered across the floor. Matty silently cursed himself, realizing he’d spend the majority of your nap cleaning the house instead of resting himself.

George followed behind him, watching as your eyes slowly but surely dropped more and more closed.

“Quick, close the curtains,” Matty said, his tone urgent. George did as he was told, tugging the heavy fabric over the window to cast the room in gentle shadows.

“Turn the sound machine on.”

George fumbled with the buttons before the familiar low hum of white noise filled the room. Everything was falling into place, the perfect storm of conditions to coax you into sleep.

Matty continued rocking you back and forth, his hands rubbing gentle circles along your back. Your eyes grew heavier with each minute, the pull of sleep growing too strong for you to resist.

“Don’t wanna sleep.” You mumbled. Although, your actions betrayed your words with your eyes growing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“Just for a little bit, baby. Then you can play for as long as you want.”

They watched as you tried to fight off the sleep that was consuming you, your eyes fluttering open and shut. With the sweet reassurances of your father, you let your eyes close shut and breathing even out. George and your father looked at each other wide eyed. Matty slowly transferred you to your tiny bed in the corner of the room, holding his breath for fear of waking you up.

When he successfully laid you down, he pulled your paci out of your mouth and watched as you subconsciously replaced it with your thumb.

Matty smiled before George spoke, “Didn’t need a story or nothing,”

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Pumpkin Carving [Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader]

Title: Pumpkin Carving [Yandere Derek Goffard x Reader]

Synopsis: Derek is a stickler for traditions.

For Horrorfest request:

Derek + carving a jack-o-lantern face into his captive's chest

Word count: 884

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, violence against reader, blood, knives

Your jaw aches from how much you’ve clenched your teeth in the last twenty minutes--or has it been longer? You sometimes count seconds in your mind during moments like this, but you’re probably off--to avoid screaming. Or begging. Though you know that he wants to hear both of them in spades, as if he hasn’t already gotten his fill of your screams and tears and blood.

But Derek, if anything, is a spoiled asshole incarnate. No matter how much he has, no matter how much he gets--how much he takes--he wants more. And more. And more. 

Maybe that’s why he presses particularly harder onto the center of your chest, slicing the knife down and wiggling it around to widen the wound so that the pain is too sharp, too new, to ignore. 

And you finally slip, your teeth throbbing when you finally release your jaw to cry out--

“Fuck!”

Above you, Derek snickers. 

“Took you long enough, didn’t it?” 

The dam is broken now, and you can’t help the whimpers, the grunts, the pitiful cries that bubble past your dry lips as he hums and continues carving a pattern onto your chest. 

“Don’t move so much,” he tells you, leaning backwards to take in his work-in-progress. “If you fuck this up, I’ll have to find some other way to celebrate Halloween tonight.” You didn’t want him to find some ‘other way,’ although you sincerely doubted this was all he had planned anyway, so you resolve to keep your body as still as possible.

That’s what you're good for--listening to what Derek tells you. 

He’d told you to lay down on the floor earlier, and you did. You weren’t wearing a shirt today (he told you not to bother putting one on in the morning, which meant your stomach was on edge all day, anticipating what was going to happen) so all he had to do was straddle you, pull out the knife, and get to work slicing and dicing.

For once, he’s not using his favorite hunting knife on you, but a sharp, bright orange pumpkin carving knife he had one of the butlers pick up from the supermarket. It's the type of knife you used on pumpkins, back before all this. The kind with a cute little pumpkin on the handle.

You should, theoretically, be grateful that he’s not using the hunting knife. Then he’d be going deeper than he currently is, though it still hurts like hell. It is meant to cut through thick pumpkin flesh, after all. And it is cutting through flesh… yours.

You never get used to any of it. The pain. The scent of your own blood. The way your arms begin to feel heavy after a while from the blood loss. The awful stinging, aching, throbbing that echoes through whatever wound he’s creating anew on your flesh. 

Eventually, he’s satisfied, because he sets down the knife and drags you to your feet. You don’t struggle against him as he pulls you towards the floor-length mirror set-up in front of his walk-in closet door. 

You don’t really see it at first. There’s too much blood. Oozing and dripping down onto the carpet, ensuring the maids would have something special to do tonight. 

Derek sighs and grabs one of his shirts that he’d previously tossed on the floor this morning. He wipes away the blood, ignoring the way you curse and sway on your feet, with the silken material.

It’s a jack o’lantern. 

Big enough that the round edges of the pattern skirt against your nipples, bringing the sting close enough that you thought, briefly, he might just cut through them. Mercifully he didn’t, but if you were being cynical (and you were, all the time) it was likely so that they didn’t lose any sensitivity in the future.

It’ll scar, though. Especially with the jagged cuts he’s created. Unless he gets the plastic surgeon his family keeps on tap to come in and take care of it, although you’ve heard the man tsk at Derek’s requests before, mumbling that he’s a doctor, not a miracle worker.

At least he’s had his fun here. Maybe he’ll want to go get drunk with his “friends” tonight and come back too inebriated to do much more. Though Derek has no real friends, you’ve realized, because people are only around him for his money. Or because they’re being held captive, like you. Or because they have to be, like his family, who only stays on this estate (you’ve gathered, from Derek’s ranting) due to their father’s obsessive control over his children. 

“Almost finished,” he says, spinning you around a little in the mirror. “Just needs that finishing touch.” 

“What do you mean?” Your own voice sounds like it’s muffled, spoken through wool and tinny ringing. It never gets easier, no matter how much he hurts you. There’s always the shock that comes with the pain. That’s something you’ve learned quite well. 

He scoffs, like you’re stupid. Then he smiles  at you in the way you hate the most, that smug, awful, sticky looking smile.

”It’s not a jack o’lantern if it’s not lit up, is it?”

He pats your head like you’re a dog.

“I’ll be right back with some candles.” 

[how-serene]

hello hello! <3

could you write for dbd ghostface with a reader who does urban exploration and stumbles upon a murder site? thank you so much!

Are We Tuned In?

Pairing - Ghostface (DBD) X Neutral!Reader

Summary - Perhaps some places are better left abandoned.

Word Count - 1.5k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, gn!reader, swearing, spooky shit occurs, proofread (somewhat), MDNI

A/N - lets both pretend that this request hasn't been sitting in my inbox since june... I had a lot of fun writing for this idea, and it oddly brought a sense of nostalgia as I was reminded of all the urban exploration videos I used to watch back in high school, so thank you for the request <3. P.S I did tweak the idea a little, hope that was okay.

Spring, 2003

Beams of sunlight split through the dark heavy clouds clustering the sky. The air was damp and heavy, a reminder that you only had so much time before the inevitable rainfall. 

“Lennon, hurry your ass up.”

“This shit is harder than it looks, give me a minute.”

You sighed, adjusting the weighted bag on your shoulder that held camera equipment. Lennon grunted, digging his bony fingers under the window that had swelled shut over the years. He gritted his teeth, and pushed his palms up against the splintered frame. It finally lifted with a harsh sounding scrape. 

“Finally,” you groaned, approaching the window. You peered into the room, squinting beyond the shroud of darkness that enveloped the space. It was as if the room was one gigantic hole in the earth, waiting to swallow up the next person who climbed through the window. 

“Did you bring the flashlights?” 

Lennon picked through his backpack, which held loose pins and patches curling at the ends. He produced a flashlight, and tossed it your way. You caught it, and shined it into the room. It was bare, save for a rickety chair shoved into the corner. 

You hoisted yourself up, carefully climbing under the window. The floorboards creaked beneath the weight of your body as you landed with a heavy thud. A thin layer of dust coated the wooden floors, which were discolored from age. Garish, floral wallpaper covered the walls, already peeling and faded. 

Lennon climbed through, muttering to himself. Suddenly, he cried out as his lanky body stumbled forward, nearly face-planting before you reached out. 

“Could you be any louder?” you hissed, stabilizing him. 

He huffed, and shoved your hands away. “Sorry, not all of us have the agility of a fucking cat.” 

You rolled your eyes, and slid the bag off of your shoulder, gently laying it on the ground. Lennon immediately dug out a silver cam-corder, while you grabbed your trusted digital camera. After a moment of adjusting – and assuring that the equipment worked –  you two were ready. 

“Alright,” Lennon said, aiming the camera at you. “Ready when you are, man.” The black lens stared at you like an unblinking eye, prepared to capture every twitch of yours. 

“You know I hate being on camera,” you whined, grimacing at the lens. 

“Just say where we are, and we can move on.” 

With the most deadpan expression you could muster, you caved in. “Today, Lennon and I ventured out to Anastasia Inn, a local bed and breakfast that was forced to shut down eight years ago due to bankruptcy.”

“And murder!” Lennon interrupted. 

You sighed, staring blankly at him. “Nothing was actually proven, just because some lady died in a bathtub doesn’t mean she was murdered, Lennon.” 

He shrugged, brushing off your argument. 

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, shaking your head. You two quietly walked out into the darkened hallway, using the poorly lit flashlights as a guide. The burgundy carpet held intricate designs of flowers, and vines, similar to the surrounding wallpaper. Warm oak doors were scattered along one side. Portraits of animal life and serene landscaping were hung between the empty spaces.

“Jesus,” Lennon whispered, panning the camera down the hall. “You think they could have hired a better designer.” 

It was certainly…overwhelming.  

You snapped a photo of the elongated hallway, illuminating the room with a white burst of light. When the light went out it felt as if the shadows grew closer, stretching around your presence. You stepped back, feeling as if it might actually materialize and touch you. A cold chill ran down your spine like water. 

“Hey, you alright?”

You blinked to find Lennon staring at you in concern, his wiry copper hair like a stain against the dark.

“I don’t know,” you mused, staring down the hall. “Does something feel off to you?” Even shining your flashlight failed to penetrate through the murky blackness beyond. You clenched your jaw, feeling your stomach turn. 

Lennon glanced around, swinging his camera over the walls. 

“It’s an old building,” he said, shrugging. “I would be worried if it wasn’t a little creepy.” 

You shook your head, trying to gather your nerves. A year of exploration and what startles you is a bed and breakfast of all places, you couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. 

Hillside Church was worse than this, you thought. You tightened your grip on the flashlight and cautiously pressed on. Lennon approached one of the doors, it led to a cramped supply closet that held an old, worn down broom and a bucket. Nothing worth capturing. 

You walked past him, your light leading the way toward another unopened door. Your hand tentatively wrapped around the brass doorknob, before pushing it open. 

“Please no racoons,” you whispered to yourself, squinting into the dark room. Your weak light by the doorway failed to penetrate through the room. So you stepped inside, your slick palms gripping onto the camera. It seemed to be a simple office space, as your flashlight shined on a grungy looking desk, with papers scattered over it. Curiosity drove you forward, as you walked up to the desk. 

Bold headlines from loose newspaper clipping stared up at you, with long paragraph stories attached to them. You plucked one of the articles from the desk, peering down at it. 

Revisiting The Roseville Murders: A Decade Later

In 1993, an unspeakable tragedy struck the town of Roseville. A town known for its quaint, close-knit community would soon fall victim to the hands of a masked murderer that very spring. Embark on this harrowing journey with me, as I – Linda Feldman – revisit the grizzly murders that forever altered the town of Roseville. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, staring down at the desk. The flimsy paper shook in your hand, nearly slipping from your fingers. You turned, eager to share your discovery. “Lennon, you need to see this –”

The door slammed shut, vibrating the wall with its force. You cried out, dropping your light along with the article. 

“Very funny,” you grumbled, picking up the light and stomping over to the door. You pounded against the sturdy wood, feeling your heart lurch with every thud. “Ha ha, funny prank, now open the door!” 

“You alright?” Lennons muffled voice came through. 

“Yes, just open the damn door.” 

The door handle jiggled, as he struggled to turn it. 

“I- I can’t, it must be locked.” 

Your stomach turned at his words, feeling the blackness of the room press against your back. You grabbed at the doorknob, your sweaty palms coating the cold surface. 

“No, no, no,” you chanted, desperately pulling and twisting it. “You better open this fucking door right – Something scraped against the floor just a few feet behind you. Its presence somehow had gone unnoticed when you first entered the room. Now, it was monstrous, filling the corners of the room. They approached, so slowly, the drag of their footfalls echoing against your back. Tears brimmed in your eyes, as you let out a shaky breath. 

“Something is in here,” you whispered, as panic swelled in your chest. Lennon began to ram his shoulder into the door, wincing with every thud. 

“Why won’t it open!” he cried, pounding against it. A violent sob raked through your body, as you helplessly tugged on the doorknob. You could feel its misshapen existence reaching out for you, its twisted fingers just hovering over your waist. Its hot breath now fanned against the back of your head, close and near like a lover. A low rumble came from its chest, as if it were laughing at you. 

With whine the door came open, as Lennon nearly fell into you. You reached for his arm, dragging him down the hall without bothering to glance back. The sound of your thunderous feet resonated throughout the hall, as you and Lennon ran hand in hand. The sound of another pair of feet rushing after you pushed you forward, as if it were the devil himself. You both finally reach the open window, as if it were a beacon of light along a stormy shore. 

“Go, go, go,” you uttered, pushing Lennon before you. He climbed out, his long, clumsy limbs harshly landing on the ground. You soon followed after, pushing your body under the tight opening. Something grasped at the back of your shirt, forcing you to look over your shoulder. A horrid, white mask, taking on the face of a wide-mouthed scream stared back at you. A pair of dark, pitless eyes burned into your retinas, a sight that would haunt the very threads of your heart for years to come. 

You screamed, your face mirroring the one glaring down at you. With a forceful shove, you fell backwards, landing on top of Lennon who groaned beneath you. You wheezed, feeling the air leave your body from the harsh fall. Lennon crawled out from under you, and flopped onto his back. 

“Come on,” you started, pushing yourself up. “We need to get out of –

When you glanced up at the window the masked figure was gone, as if they were never there to begin with. One sentence flashed in your mind, if only for a second. Something you saw beforehand, an article that jumped out from the others among the table of newspaper clippings. It seemed so ludicrous, a silly name that meant nothing to you a few minutes ago. Now it feels like a stain on your mind.  

Who is The Ghostface?