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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 months ago

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AMBER FREEMAN | GHOSTFACE (scream 2022)

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“Sent A Whole World Crying - pt1” (unrequited Amber Freeman x Fem!Reader) and (background Mindy Meeks-Martin x Fem!Reader)

| You accidentally let Amber know that you think she’s Ghostface (through DM’s); she’s not about to let you live through that mistake, obviously…probably.

| NSFW, canon typical violence, psychological trauma, unrequited feelings, angst (TW: general sadism, malicious concern, some taunting, reader-insert is harmed, slight metaphorical smut - some of the descriptors and dialogue I use are suggestive enough that it could be triggering.)

| Listen I’ve seen the analysis of who killed who in the movie, but for the sake of this fic I don’t care. (pic source: scream 2022 + promotional poster)

| Happy Early October!!

| 4k+ words

You:

- Mindy I’m telling you! - She keeps disappearing during the kills and then coming back all twitchy - Why aren’t you answering? You were all for looking into this shit earlier - Mindy! - I know you love Tara and they used to date or whatever but you know I’m right. - She’s probably Ghostface - Come on girl I’m being serious

You’ve been texting Mindy for the last two hours now and she’s still yet to answer you.

You didn’t know if it was because of how much shit you gave her for her insistence on trying to figure out who’d attempted to kill Tara a few nights ago (as if murder accusations were just mere gossip), or because she just hadn’t checked her texts yet, but this was bugging you to much for you to drop.

Hypocritical or not.

At first you’d blown off the signs, but red flags were red flags and eventually if they added up enough they started to look like blood splattered on the walls. Which didn’t help with the way your friend’s particular brand of paranoia was starting to rub off on you.

Now, you’ve managed to work yourself up so much at Amber’s most recent disappearing act that you’d nearly ran home so you could safely text Mindy.

In a circumstance that was beginning to be rarer and rarer for you both you couldn’t be up underneath each other right now so her DM’s would have to suffice.

She was busy with the film club at the moment, but she’d never once begrudged you texting her whenever and after going out with her and her friends last night then stewing over your observations all day you needed to tell somebody what you thought.

You weren’t very close to the group Mindy hung out with — you fucked with your own company just fine — but you and Mindy had become close over your mutual hate of your philosophy class and eventually she’d stumbled through asking you to hang out as a group (still blunt as ever even despite her raging blush) so you’d been with her friends at the bar only because she asked.

Friendship obligations, and all that.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to figure out who would do something so horrible just as much as they did either. It was just that you only truly cared for Mindy and Chad’s sakes.

Or at least as much as most of them wanted to figure this situation out.

Amber talked a big game about caring for Tara’s safety above all else and vetting everyone the smaller teen came into contact with, but after that jerk who got y’all kicked out left Amber had disappeared too. She came back overly excited — weird considering her best friend was almost brutally murdered — and there had been smudges on her shoes. You couldn’t confirm that it was that guy's blood, but you certainly felt like it was. The glint of something thick and wet was pretty hard to miss even on black boots.

Which was why you needed Mindy to answer you. You couldn’t bank on Amber fucking off around the same time the news reported Ghostface killed that man being a happy little coincidence.

Amber was pushy and rude on a good day and on a bad you’d seen her be downright malicious before, tripping someone down the stairs after he’d bumped into her type of malicious.

Plus ever since you started hanging out with Mindy you’ve noticed her staring at you more often, and no matter the contemplative look on Amber’s face whenever you caught her staring, her attention still made the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

Sighing, you unlock your phone and check your messages again, pacing around your room all the while, before something catches your eye.

That wasn’t Mindy’s handle. It just looked nearly identical.

Shit, no wonder she wasn’t responding.

Jolting to a stop in the middle of the room, you rush to delete the messages.

It’s as you’re deleting the fourth that the green ‘active now’ dot shows up beside the unfamiliar username and then ‘read’ pops up underneath your last three texts.

“Damnit,” you grumble, still deleting the last couple texts. It won’t do much now, but if you were fast enough the person at least won’t be able to show anyone else or prove what you said.

Your stomach flips a little as you see the three dots pop up in the vacant space left behind by your erasing spree.

You freeze.

And then, heart in your stomach, you just react, exiting out of the conversation and going to the person's account and blocking them.

Oh god, you were so fucked. Shit. You really hoped that wouldn't come back to bite you on the ass.

You sit down on your bed with a huff, heart beating so fast it feels like you just ran the mile in gym class again. Dropping your phone on your comforter you shake out your trembling fingers. You suppose that was a sign that maybe you should just keep your opinion to yourself.

You rub your hands down your face.

Yeah, okay. Problem kind of (maybe) avoided for now. You’d just have to hope for the best.

You grunt, “Okay, I need a nap.”

And then you take that nap. As is your right.

─────

You’re jarred from sleep a few hours later by the sound of a continuous series of buzzing, and glare sleep crusted eyes up at your blurred ceiling fan.

Mindy had better not be calling you for some contrite shit again, like helping her beat Chad at whatever late night game they’d decided to occupy their twin insomnia with at — rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you look at your phone — eleven pm.

Honestly though, who else would be ballsy enough to start rapid texting you like this in the goddamn middle of the night? The other girl knew you went to sleep around nine on school nights, but Mindy did whatever she—

It feels like your heart stops beating as your Face ID unlocks your phone and you finally read the messages. Ones sent from what looks like a throwaway account with a handle you don’t remotely recognize.

The particular messages, on the other hand, are horribly familiar.

Unknown:

Wide eyed, you can’t do anything but watch as another series of messages are sent.

Unknown:

- you think I’m some bitch faced little girl - well I’ll show you

And just like that you hear the power in the house cut off and watch with stilted breath as the service bar at the top of your screen goes down.

Immediately afterwards a message pops up on your phone to inform you that you’ve lost service even.

Shit.

You blink at your screen for another few seconds, brows furrowing, before whipping your head up to look around your room. Flashes of Tara battered to hell in the hospital and the memory of Sam telling you all about the attempted attack on her in that very place, mere hours after Tara had been checked in, fill your brain to the brim.

Mind feeling stuffed with static you let out a harsh breath through your nose, hand squeezing hard onto your device, and take a glance out the broken blind in your window to clock that there for sure wasn’t a power outage happening anywhere else but at your house.

So someone was definitely fucking with you.

Fuck, you gotta think.

How the killer even got the dm’s you sent if they weren’t Amber wasn’t a question for now, but how you’d get out of this mess certainly was. With your younger sibling down the hall from you, and your parents still out of the house clubbing, there was only one other person you had to worry about.

Now you just had to figure out how to get to them without tipping off whoever the hell else was also in your house.

Hold on.

You never checked who exactly it was you’d been texting before.

Opening Snapchat, you simultaneously tumble as quietly as possible from your bed, only briefly getting caught up by your blanket tangling around your legs.

When you check you see that, yup, it was Amber’s account (who’s handle was now ridiculously similar to Mindy’s and was only saved on your phone in the first place because Mindy had asked you to send her one of your summer assignments from this year to copy).

Goddamnit.

“Why me?” you whisper; but truly, you should’ve made sure you were talking to the right person if you were going to start making fucking murder accusations.

This shit was on you.

Teeth grinding, you stuff your phone into the pocket of your shorts then start crawling around the floor till you can begin prying open your door. Opening it as far as you know it can go before it starts creaking then inching yourself the rest of the way into the hall.

Sure you had a problem if this wasn’t some elaborate prank — which you doubted, but the possibility was always there considering the kind of assholes you went to school with — but you couldn’t jump out of your window and just leave your sibling to die.

It’s when your mission is about halfway accomplished, and you’re nearly to your sibling's room, that you hear a creak.

You freeze alongside it. Breathing with your mouth slightly open to minimize the amount of noise you’re making.

Should you just make a run for their room? Should you duck back into yours? Should you shout their name and hope for the best?

In your periphery a flash of white streaks across the dark abyss that is the rest of your house.

Then, you’re only allowed enough time to start the beginnings of a scream before you’re being thrown into the hallway wall, cutoff exclamation choking in your throat and something blunt and heavy slamming into your forehead before you can catalog anything but the sound of fabric billowing in a rush and the feel of hands grabbing at you.

The shout you let out at the second hit is muffled by a gloved hand slapping over your mouth, the impact stinging your face and making your eyes water.

In that same motion your attacker catches you by the hip, hauling, and combined with the force they barreled into you with that’s all they need to make you trip backwards.

You slam into the wall with an ‘oof,’ but your attacker hardly pauses before using their body to flatten yours against the wall and force your wrists together in front of you.

As you’re blinking the spots from your eyes and trying to make out the person in the darkness a metallic click sounds through the air. And all you can do is flinch as two icy metal bands are cinched around your wrists in quick succession and your vision finally adjusts.

The metal locking together pinches at your skin but there’s so much else going on that you don’t even grimace, too busy trying to find your breath after the sight in front of you stole it.

A face. White, screaming in agony, and floating in the shadow like something straight out of Munch’s worst nightmares.

There’s a Ghostface mask less than a foot away from you.

Real and unavoidable and close enough for the starkness to hurt your eyes against the blanket of night all around you.

In Woodsboro it's a familiar sight, whether on the screen during local stabathons and tv edits at home or in costume shops around any one of the many killing spree anniversaries or Halloween.

Up close as it is to you in this scenario, however, it almost doesn’t feel real.

The mask is tilted in a way that feels like the person behind it is examining you; like a dissection. A hand sprouts from the darkness and shifts it back straight over the person’s face, however, and instantly your worry is no longer an assumption.

If you’d thought before that the tilt felt violating, the full force of Ghostface’s direct gaze actually on you feels heavy enough to strip flesh.

Like acid dripping past your throbbing head, over your face, and down the upper half of your body.

From how crooked the mask was you’d guess that’s what hit you, what’s caused the drowning thump thump pounding through your skull and the stinging sensation traveling across your forehead.

The freak had head butted you.

Slow as you can, you shift your head to the side — hoping there isn’t a streak of blood against the wall left in your wake — just enough to press your temple into the cool wall with a groan.

It’s then Ghostface’s head truly tilts and you get to know what the weight of their curiosity really feels like.

The movement itself is silent, but the click of a tongue and the hand that comes up to press over your forehead is not.

At the first touch of covered fingers to your dark skin your blood practically flash-freezes in your veins.

Gritting your teeth against your possible concussion you make a valiant attempt to meld into the wall, but a hand making itself remembered once more on your hip keeps you from fully running away, and the other reaching for you doesn’t relent.

“You’re so pretty like this, Y/n,” Ghostface’s modulated voice says, deep and smooth, as your assailant pushes on the sore area where you temple meets the wall until you turn to face them again; their tongue wrapping possessively around the call of your name without hesitation. “Submitting for me.”

“Jesus,” you whimper, shaking against the insistent feel of their thumb rubbing against the angry vein showing on your temple. “How do you know my—?”

“—Uh uh,” their overbearing timbre cuts in as they pull themselves closer to you, “keep asking questions like that and you’ll ruin the surprise.”

What fucking surprise? Did this asshole plan on dragging this out all night?

Could you figure a way out of this mess by then?

Biting the inside of your lip, you meet the abyss of a gaze in front of you in spite of the chill it sends down your spine. Try to think past the sensation of spiders crawling through your bloodstream that Ghostface’s generous touch elicits.

You swallow, saliva thick past the budding lump in your throat.

“Can you stop?” you force out.

The killer freezes.

You nearly pass out trying to keep yourself from recoiling or apologizing or both by holding your breath before they finally talk again.

“Why? You don’t want me to be concerned?”

Concerned?!

“I don’t,” you say, lips stiff.

What you wanted was to have this over with, not whatever twisted brand of care this Ghostface operated on.

A beat passes where you think they’ll keep pressing, maybe make a point of knocking you again, but then they…stop. Slim hands retreat from your space entirely and down to the killer’s sides.

You doubt their hands will stay still for long, though, and you haven’t thought up how you’re gonna get around them yet — call for your sibling to go get help, maybe?

You cut your eyes at the ghostly specter, at their height and intense focus on you, and remembering the speed they’d ambushed you with earlier you reconsider.

Risking your sibling’s life over a hunch that you already weren’t confident on wasn’t happening. There was no part of you that believed you’d stand a chance at overpowering this Ghostface long enough for no one but you to get hurt.

Something glints in the corner of your eye and you come out of your head with a start. There’s a knife in the killer’s hand now, twisting and twirling around deft fingers before their gaze swings back to you and the blade swings out to lazily point your way.

“Planning?”

“No.”

They laugh, likely not trusting your answer for a moment.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. We can play a game instead.” They pivot once, angling their body towards the door closest, and your heart skips a beat. “I spy with my little eye something that squeaks and creaks and leads to fresh meat.”

And just in case you managed to miss the killer’s meaning, they use the tip of their knife to point towards your sibling’s closed bedroom door twice in a motion too similar to stabbing for your liking.

“What do you think?” they ask, and take a slow deliberate step to the door right afterwards.

“Don’t!”

Lunging across the space Ghostface has made between you, you grab hold of their wrist with trembling hands and bite the proverbial bullet.

The “Please,” comes falling out your mouth like water, and only a tinge of something sour follows it.

Ghostface doesn’t do so much as twitch when they glance back at you, though, shoulders shaking under the cloak.

“‘Please’,” they repeat, roiling laughter clear even through the distortion, “but I thought you didn’t want my concern?”

“I’ll scream,” you counter, pushing past the sinking in your gut to bring your other hand up to form a double clamp around the killer.

Bottomless perpetually gaping eye cutouts stare back at glistening ebony brown eyes for one breath— four, until you yank.

There is no plan when you rush past them, just the sinking feeling that something was going to have to give soon and the knowledge that you’d be damned if it was the person in the room you're running to.

Your hand is on the doorknob, your sibling’s name on the tip of your tongue, when a sound cracks through the air. Your leg buckles, there’s a pressure at the back of your knee, the heat of another body latches onto your back, a hand claps over your mouth, and then you’re tipping over.

Ghostface brings you down with so little fanfare you’d be embarrassed if you had the wherewithal. Wrestles your flailing ass to the floor right in front of the door and keeps you down with their legs pinning your hips.

It’s not until you hit the floor that everything catches up with you.

Heat like you’ve never known screams from the bend of your knee like a piping kettle, and the wail that scratches its way up your throat when you instinctively try to get away by gaining purchase on the tile with your injured leg leaves you shaking into the floor.

With a chuckle your attacker shushes you, gloved hand made wet from your drool and tears patting against your open mouth.

“Shhh.” They shift back and you whimper at the feel of every millimeter of movement that even that small motion forces your foot to make. “You wouldn’t want your little sibling to hear, would you?”

The voice modulator makes the question sound even more taunting and the deep timber of it curls your toes — the twitch making your left leg burn — coming from so close to your ear.

Gloved fingers run along the serrated edges of the hole in your cracked knee where the knife’s still embedded, circling the pounding back of your leg until shivers rack up your body.

The touch is light.

You want to saw your leg off so you never have to deal with even the memory of the feel of it ever again.

“I’d hate to have to deal with him if he comes to investigate the strange noises, yeah?” they say, pausing right afterwards.

It’s a prompt if you’ve ever heard one. They even lift their hand from your leg.

Mind whirling with thoughts of the blood seeping out the sides of your knee to stain the floors and the agony emitting from the stab wound it takes you a few seconds to answer.

You force your words out past your shaky lips eventually, however. The stuttering agreement tasting like ash on your tongue.

“Good girl,” the modulated voice damn near coos in response, and part of you wishes you’d gotten stabbed through the ears instead.

There’s shuffling from above you, the sounds of fabric slipping over something barely registering over the rushing of blood through your ears.

You’re bleeding—

You’ve been stabbed—

Fuck, your leg is on fire—

Without an ounce of remorse deft fingers press down on where the back of your knees’ been stabbed through again, hand holding tight to the side of your leg, and a whimper falls unbidden past your lips.

Breathy, throaty, feminine laughter sounds right beside your ear as your killer settles over you.

Soft lips brush the shell of your ear and wispy black locks of hair fall into your peripheral.

“I guess it was me after all,” a voice you recognize croons, barren of any modulation.

Holy shit, Mindy had been right.

“A- Amber…?”

Your voice is small where you get it out from between pants for breath, leg throbbing hard enough to cut your focus completely.

Nothing feels real except for the throbbing, not the floor beneath you or the drool running down your chin.

“Mhm,” she giggles, breath ticking the side of your neck and making you shiver. It only takes a second for her to shiver back, breathe against your skin stuttering when she groans and presses down harder on your wound. You mewl and can feel exactly how Amber’s smile spreads. “Aww, just like that, Hun. Now we’re getting to the good part.”

Amber rises up from over you and then relentlessly grabs ahold of your shoulders and has you twist around until your upper body is facing her, and fifty percent of your concentration has to go to keeping your lower body in the opposite direction than the rest of you so you don’t aggravate your knee anymore.

Hair wild and damp with sweat atop her head the smile she gives you is all teeth in the faint moonlight that halos her face.

“Bet you’re reconsidering who you got close to now, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying and failing to get enough leverage so you can spit in her face.

At the angle she’s forced you into her weight over your hips was more effective than you’d thought, though. Spitting from where you were would only serve in getting you smacked in the face with your own saliva.

“Gah— fuck! It’s not Mindy’s fault you’re a fucking sociopath,” you say behind clenched teeth.

You wonder if your friend would care if you died. Would Mindy cry when your death was announced? Would she immediately suspect Amber again? Confront her?

You’d been the one to comfort her when the news about Tara had come through before Chad could get to you guys. She’d struggled for a few minutes before a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, tears that she’d wiped away with a personal vengeance until you took one of her hands and wove your fingers together. Mindy had given you this wide look you’d never seen before, hazel eyes lost, before finally letting herself sob curled up to your side with her hand in yours. Did you hold that same amount of space in her mind, though?

In her heart?

Amber clicks her tongue, and instantly you’re reminded that whether Mindy and you could’ve ever been more than friends won’t matter anymore. “Wrong answer, Sweetie,” she says, and without another word rips the knife from your body in one pull.

Just barely you manage to stop the scream you want to let out by clamping down on your lower lip, teeth completely bypassing putting an indent into the skin and instead cutting directly through the plush of it as you buck uncontrollably against Amber.

Chest heaving and with tears sprouting in your eyes and beginning to pool, you watch for her next move and are heartbroken to say you aren’t disappointed.

With a flourish she brings the knife up to your face. You watch it with wide shaky eyes, heart sounding louder than your labored breaths in your ears.

The sharp side of the blade runs feather light down the side of your face, her gaze intent on it. On how the silver contrasts with the little streams of blood it leaves in its wake against your dewy brown skin. On how your lashes flutter anxiously, and the muscles in your face twitch beneath her touch.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says softly. She shifts the blade so that she can splay the flat of it over your mouth and purses her lips, eyes glittering and crazed and a little hurt. “I meant that you should’ve picked me, Sweetheart. I like you. And I like that you were thinking about me so much you figured me out. If you had just picked me I would’ve spared you,” she whispers last, face closer to yours now, before leaning in to press a kiss to the other side of the blade over your quivering lips.

The scent of your own blood makes your stomach roil, but the feel of her breath fanning your skin and the ecstatic expression that takes over her face when she leans away to lick her lips forces a sob from you.

Shuddering, you look up at her, a tear finally breaking free to roll down your face.

There is no one to hold you when you break.

Amber giggles, the flash of her teeth bloody.

“Just let me do it,” she whispers, voice low as she moves to run the warm tip of the knife down your side. “Be good for me, be mine this once, and I won’t go into that room and paint those walls red with your sibling’s blood.”

And so you cooperate; biting down into your forearm as muffled cries and wails tear up your throat. Amber plunges the blade deep, hits organs and cracks through bone with low grunts, and each stab feels like a little more of your soul drifting away.

You jolt, she adjusts her weight to accommodate your pained reaction like it’s practiced. You bite down so hard you break skin, teeth sinking into your body and feeling like masochistic relief that at least this pain was your own doing, she leans over to lick around your teeth with a groan. She gives and you take and you don’t scream out loud.

What a perfect victim you’ve made.

The tears never stop flowing from your eyes. So much salt they begin to burn alongside the bite in your arm that’s steadily mixing with blood and snot, and the entire rest of your body that’s near indistinguishable apart from the pain.

Nothing feels real except for the way Amber rides out your death spasms and the never ending stream of pleas to keep yourself silent that have long since turned into a sequenced tune in your head that you’re already forgetting.

As Amber’s honeyed taunts follow you under you know without debate that you have never known pain so intimate as what she’s brought upon you, and nothing so tender as death’s incoming embrace.

At least your younger sibling would be okay.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!! I tried posting this yesterday, but it wasn’t showing up under any of the tags so I’m trying again. ❤︎

I missed some shit when editing for sure, but I will come back to catch them later. I also don’t know how I feel about the way this flows, but maybe I just need to not look at it for a bit idk.

So the reader-insert may not have actually died here, but I don’t know for sure just yet. I would like for the second part to be a GF!Mindy x Reader-Insert x Jealous!Amber type deal though.

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

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raspberryjamnnn · 4 months ago

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my phone has categorized multiple anime girls as the same person

#blogging #im trying to find the pattern and its looking like black/dark hair with bangs #although the anime girl at the top is honestly the least fitting of that categorization so idk #also present in this profile is adult mob; fem serizawa; and both light and L

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thisisnotnectarinex · 8 months ago

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time to get weak for your glittery Goddess~ links 🔗

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kaifish-pond-afterdark · 5 months ago

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Rodrick x Plus Size Black Reader Ficlet

I Love My Hair & Body

Rodrick x Plus Size Black Fem Reader

Spicy Level: 🌶️🌶️/🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

I look at myself in the mirror, turning to view my booty. It’s so cute! Not super big, really just a little less than average, not exactly flat, but not super juicy either. It’s firm. I like it tho, I like my pudgy tummy too, my adorable apron belly that covers the top of my vulva. My brown vulva is darker than my belly, my inner thighs are too. I have a lot of hyperpigmentation. My skin has a lot of texture, I stare at it in the mirror, a smile breaks out and I double finger gun myself.

“Lookin good!” I say, turning around to press my chest together, saggy, scabby, acne-scarred. Uniquely human. I think to myself. I catch Rodrick looking at me, a smile on his own face. He’s beaming, he comes up behind me and kisses my neck.

“You are lookin good Babe.” He wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling my naked body against his clothed one. It’s taken years to get to this point, I’m aware of how many people don’t love their bodies. Some days I still struggle, but I know my body is sexy. My body is for me, and because of that, it only matters how I feel about it. I look at our bodies in the mirror. We look so adorable, so beautiful, such a perfect couple.

Rodrick spins me around to kiss me on the mouth, “I love you.” He says my name and I feel myself melt into him. He pulls away, and I start getting dressed, I put on a pair of pink boyshorts and one of Rodrick’s band tees. He doesn’t hang out with Loded Diper much anymore, and I’m a bit sad about that. I liked his band, but Rodrick works a lot now, and doesn’t have much free time. The free time he does have he spends with me; taking me to dinner, or walking around the park.

Rodrick pats between his legs on the bed, my hair styling tools in his hand and next to him, “C’mere babe and let me do your hair.” Rodrick had spent hours a day when we first got together learning how to style 4c hair. Now he’s my main stylist when I can’t get to the salon.

I hum happily as he works through my fro, “Did you grab the crochet hair I bought the other day?” I ask, moaning as he massages my scalp with oil. He holds the package in front of my face.

“Sure did.”

We spend the better part of the day doing my hair, Rodrick giving me plenty of breaks and ordering me food when I get hungry.

As I’m eating, I feed him a fry every so often, his skilled hands move effortlessly through my head, we both belt out lyrics from his band, giggling and reminiscing.

“Thank you for spending my day off with me.” Rodrick says kissing the top of my head.

“Anytime!” I get up and look in the mirror, my locs look beautiful, never mind the slight discomfort.

We spend the rest of the day watching tv, listening to music and dancing around.

As the day draws to a close I change into pjs, watching Rodrick do the same with hungry eyes. He crawls into bed, and kisses me gently. We makeout for a while, getting handsy. I’m hairy, not that anyone minds.

Sleep comes easy, intertwined in each other’s arms, the night is quiet and calm.

All is well.

#rodrick heffley #adult rodrick #poc reader #black fem reader #plus size reader #rodrick ficlet #ficlet #romance

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dxddykenn · 6 months ago

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I wanted to be like my favs and start writing but don’t really how lol…but I’m going to post what I have so far since it’s been on my mind 🙃.

Two can play

scene: strip club

Imagine your man is going out to the strip club with his brothers and invites you to join. You politely decline not wanting to interrupt a boys night out until your homegirls decide to go to the same club.

Trevante watches as you come up the few stairs towards him and wraps his arms around your waist pulling you to him “Yo what you on” he says directly in your ear. “Huh what are you talking about pa” you respond. “I thought you didn’t want to come out and I look up to see you shaking ass with your friends. You didn’t even let me know you were coming”. Tre wasn’t an insecure man by any means but he didn’t play when it came to making sure you were safe. “For what you’re having fun with your brothers, I told you I wasn’t trying to interrupt” you respond. He pulls you closer “Mama why you tryna play with me hmm…I’m warning you now chill out” “Are you challenging me daddy?” you purr looking into his eyes. “Nah i’m just letting you know don’t try me” “Hmm” you lean in brushing your lips against his “If I were you I wouldn’t start something that you can’t finish, you know I don’t lose” you finish as you see someone walking up to you both. You look over as you recognize the girl that was dancing on him earlier as she speaks up “Hey love you ready for your dance” she questions looking at him. Trevante glances over at her ready to correct her for interrupting you both from talking. You giggle and look at him with a seductive look “Go ahead and enjoy your dance I’m going back” you say as you start to pull away. “Nah i’m tryna talk to you” he says as he holds on to your hips tighter. “It’s fine” you laugh lowly as you look into his eyes again “Have a goodnight Mr. Rhodes” you respond as you turn around and walk away with a sway in your hips.

Trevante POV

I stand there watching Y/N walk away as she looks back and we both smirk. Since she wants to play I’ll show her, two can play.

#black reader #black oc #black!fem!reader #black female writers #adult fanfiction #first fic

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leafmealoooone · 2 months ago

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The difference between a neurtypical person's food preferences and an autistic person's is that not wanting pickles on you hamburger is considered totally normal but I still regularly get mocked for not being able to tolerate black pepper in any food

#actually autistic #food mention #Even better is when people assume things about my ethnicity because of the pepper thing #For the record it's black pepper specifically not all spicy foods. I'm a sucker for gochujang #Love how my neurotypical brother can have nope foods and it's just his taste but when I do the same thing I'm a picky pathological whimp #Don't even get me started on how being fem means if I mention having nope foods someone will try to diagnosed me with an eating disorder #ed mention #ableism #autistic adult

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beautifulfaaces · 1 year ago

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Sonja Sohn

Facts

May 9, 1964

American actress

She is of South Korean descent

Filmography

Amanda [Will Trent: 2023]

Katherine [Utopia: 2020]

Detective [Shut Eye: 2016]

Lenore/ Esther [The Originals: 2014-2015]

Samantha [Body of Proof: 2011-2012]

Toni [Cold Case: 2006-2007]

Lauren [Slam: 1998]

Appearance

Brunette/ black hair

Curls

Brown eyes

1.65m

Roleplay

Playable: adult

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risingoftime · 2 years ago

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How have you been?🫠

i'm okay! but adulting is ghetto. I just want to sit and write my silly little stories and sit in the sun, but no, I have to work.

#x black fem reader #fic writing #x black reader #adulting #꒰ঌYOU’VE GOT MAIL໒꒱

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gothessnocturne · 2 years ago

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Come, sit at my feet

#black and white #b & w photography #b & w #photoshoot #adult model #modeling #collar #classic #cleavalicous #femdxm #fem domme

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apocalypse-shuffle · 26 days ago

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BLADE | ERIC BROOKS (1990 trilogy)

—

“Argent” (Blade | Eric Brooks x Fem!Reader)

| Eric sets up a meeting between him and one of the only vampires he’s ever trusted. Truly trusted. It’s less about business and more about pleasure however.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, canon typical action & violence mentioned, blood drinking, oral sex, blowjob (male receiving), cunnilingus (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), (TW: Eric drugs the Reader-Insert to kidnap her; she doesn’t mind and he gives her the antidote immediately, but yeah) mild-ish rough sex, pain play, blood play

| Pic Source: Blade (1998) - ignore the context of the last photo, okay, the pictures were too perfect to pass up

| Happy 4 days till Halloween!!!🩸

| 5k+ words

Your sight has still yet to clear and your veins are still on fire from failing to run away and being hit by a dart.

Liquidized Silver.

You take a second to feel the way your veins burn, and yeah, it was definitely still in you.

Who did you piss off now?

You groan, head swiveling without purpose on your neck, and crack open your eyes. Just as you’ve blinked the black from the corner of your vision you feel someone else appear in your presence.

Or maybe they’ve been around you this whole time and you’ve just been too out of it to pick up their heartbeat or scent.

You suck in and then let out a rush of air you don’t need.

“Fucker,” you curse, frown twisting at your lips.

An unnaturally smooth palm cups your cheek and then drifts to the back of your head, propping you up as another hand pries your lips open. You’re held tightly against someone’s buff form as a wrist, bleeding fresh, is held against your mouth.

You moan without preamble, fangs dropping, and plunge eagerly into his offering. You’ve been poisoned, nothing was going to neutralize the shit swimming in you like pure blood was.

There’s an answering groan behind you and you can’t help but savor the taste even more. Human blood was delectable, but daywalker blood was an out of body experience. You whimper as he pulls his wrist from your fangs sooner than you’d like but then rush to lap up the remaining blood around the closing wound.

Once the dark wrist in front of you is cleared of every bit of liquid red you sigh out.

"You could just call, you know…?" you mutter against his skin before he moves his hand.

There’s an answering grunt behind you and then you’re spun around. It’s Blade’s smug face that greets you, devoid of his shades for once, and you roll your eyes.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I didn’t answer…” you screw your face up at him. “Motherfucker, did you bother calling more than once?”

He grins at you.

“By that reasoning I should’ve tracked you down the second I saw your black ass plastered all over the news after you declined my calls.”

“Phone got blown up. And why didn’t you? Could’ve used the help,” he side eyes the door to whatever bedroom he’s got you in, “and someone I can actually stand.”

You laugh, “So the rumors about you hanging with a new crew are true?”

He reaches for you and when you accept his advance he circles his arms around your waist.

He scoffs, nostrils flaring, and stares you down. “Mostly out of necessity.”

“Mmm,” your fingers drum over his chest. Only a thin black shirt keeps you from his skin. “I was dealing with my own shit show so I couldn’t have helped anyway.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. Your hands press over where his heart miraculously beats.

“I’m sorry about Whistler, by the way.”

Blade goes morose for a second, stilling while he takes in your words with a vague nod. The only steadying sound left is the pat pat of his supernatural heart. It’s nice to be near one that operates so well, that won’t accelerate in fear around you.

In the next beat his lips purse and he glances away from you.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my life did you?”

You frown.

“You kidnapped me, actually, but message received. I won’t bring him up again.”

Those amber eyes pin you in place for another mini eternity before he thanks you. The mirth trickles back into his expression then, and you relax.

He chuckles when you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“So then. I’ve been staying out of trouble, Daywalker. Do I get a cookie?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. One corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Here’s your fucking cookie.”

He slams his lips onto yours, just about kissing you dead a second time with how long he takes before separating for air. You take a second to regain yourself, forehead pressed against his as his soft breaths puff against your mouth. Despite his pants he grins, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth while you piece your thoughts back together.

You clear your throat.

"I heard about Dracula’s little cult too by the way, but if you brought me here to interrogate me about it you’ve wasted your time.”

Blade doesn’t answer right away. Instead his lips trail across your jaw and down your neck, coarse facial hair tickling your skin. One of his hands runs up your body and the other ghosts across the side of your neck.

"The true Dracula’s business doesn’t have shit to do with this. I was just…craving your company,” he says, biting the delicate skin over your jugular.

You gasp at the sudden sharp movement but arch against him at the familiar prick of his bat-like incisors making a sizable mark on you. He kneads your skin gently with them, but doesn’t pierce the skin for any blood.

"Let me take you...." he whispers, leaning back and ripping one of his gloves off.

Your throat grows tight as his fingertips run down your cheek, the stolen blood in your body singing across the dark skin that he touches.

"You screamed so loud for me last time… . Let me get you like that again."

With inhuman speed, he pushes your back against the wall, one of his legs wedging between your own. The hands on your hips pull you further onto his muscled thigh and he begins to rub you up and down on it.

A mewl slips past your lips at the sudden movement, feet fighting for purchase on the floor and hands resting on his shoulders for balance. Before long your mewls are replaced by breathy moans and you can’t help jerking and pushing down against Blade’s thigh, hands clawing desperately at his shirt.

You bite back a groan of annoyance, but a growl escapes in its absence and you rip his shirt apart in seconds. A small growl emits from his lips and Blade nabs your wrists, yanking your hands from his chest. He gives you a sideways look.

“Really?”

You lean your upper body forward with a shrug. It’s a little hard to do with the way he’s restraining you but you make it work.

“You're not the only one craving something, Daywalker. Now are you gonna make me cum or not?”

He grins, a mean flash of white against his umber skin before letting you go.

"Fine. I'll give you what you want."

You don’t have time to do anything with your newly renewed mobility because in the next second he’s back on you. Lips meet yours for one more enveloping kiss before he leans away. His deft fingers trail over your mouth and he hums as his eyes shine with a dark sort of mirth.

"How about you put that mouth to better use."

His voice is rough as his index and middle fingers slide into your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass. You glare, eyes gaining their yellow vampiric appearance, but ultimately don’t complain. Instead you look him dead in the face and slowly swirl your tongue around his digits then suck on them gently. A smirk pulls at the corner of your mouth when the mirth fades from his eyes, replaced by a hungrier expression.

"Floor," He orders, regarding you with a steely gaze as his fingers slide out of your mouth. His hands drop to his sides.

Cocky smile in full place, you slide down the wall to your knees. Placing you at eye level with the prominent bulge in his leather pants.

His eyes, now alight with lust, never leave your own and he quickly unhooks his belt and fly before dropping his hands for you to do the rest.

Blade hisses as you pull his pants down, his curved dick immediately jumping out at you, and you chuckle before wrapping fingers only marginally warmed by stolen blood around his shaft.

“Mmm, someone’s eager,” you tease.

Quick as very few things in your world were, his hand flashes forward. One of his now bare hands cups your jaw, allowing you a moment to nuzzle into it, before his free hand grasps the back of your head to urge you forward.

The way his grip shifts, loosening and tightening in a few steady increments, tells you just how much he’s struggling to keep himself under control. It’s a heady power to hold.

After all, he could never keep his monstrous tendencies under as much tight control when he was around you.

Eric looks down at you and scoffs. His amber gaze flares when he taps at the top of your head and a smirk, pushing against well worn frown lines, ticks up one corner of his mouth.

“I’m not the one on my knees.”

A part of you wants to shiver. The other knows you’re too undead for such poultry shit, but is tempted to pantomime the reaction anyway.

It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself tremble for him; your monster cowering in the face of his mounting one. Like you were some brown skinned starlet in a flowing white dress; distressed but still with your teeth barred in the face of the big bad wolf.

There wasn’t anything safe as that here though, just the cut of the daywalker’s grin and the slow baritone build up of a growl in the back of his throat.

Yet, his human side was still as dangerous as his vampire, you muse, kitten licking the head of his dick with your cool tongue.

Comparatively, Eric’s entire body is miraculously warm and the way his dick twitches and pulses over your mouth is nearly intoxicating.

Eric grunts, his hand tangling into your hair as he watches you. With a low hum you place sloppy kisses down his shaft, cupping his balls as you lick a hard line across the veins on the underside of his dick. He groans when your tongue swirls over his precum slick glans.

When he tries urging you forward, head pressed to your two-toned lips, you pull off entirely.

Keeping your grin from breaking free is a herculean effort.

Jaw ticking, Eric looks down at you like he’s about to fall. Face open in its desperation and thick lips already bitten ruddy.

"Goddamnit, stop playing games with me, Slick..." he says, voice strained. His hand tightens in your hair and your lashes flutter as you allow yourself another shudder.

Grin finally breaking free, you smile shamelessly up at Eric and wait until he kisses his teeth in irritation to move.

Eyes glinting, you meet his eyes and then take him in fast and deep. The sound of the slide of his back teeth cuts off short with his muffled shout.

His dick twitches in your mouth, heavy and solid on your tongue, an unignorable presence at the back of your throat, and he lets out a filthy sounding moan.

The very sound makes you want to please him more; do something better than just eagerly moving your mouth up and down his shaft. So bobbing your head, you pull back to twirl your tongue around his head before taking him deep again, playing around with the speed and depth of how deep you take him in turn.

After a few minutes his composure has nearly all but been forgotten. One hand remaining tightly wrapped in your coils while he uses the other alternatively for support against the wall and an emergency muffler. His sweat glossed body shuddering in pleasure, growl grumbling in his throat, and the occasional deep curse turned you on more than anything.

Hand gliding over your head until he can cup the side of your ear, he tugs sharply at the pointed tip of it to make you look back up at him. Your stare is only a little cross.

"Hold still." He murmurs, smoothing the pad of one of his fingers over where he’d tugged.

Nodding, you do as ordered and he cups the back of your head again before slowly beginning to thrust into your mouth. His hips snap forward hard and deep and you have to fight to keep your throat from reflexively shutting.

It doesn’t take long for him to speed up, but he only allows it for a moment before pausing and pulling back to guide your mouth over his dick. He coats your plush lips with his pre, the drag slick.

"Fuck, you’re good,” he mutters, eyes intent on his ministrations.

You can’t help but to growl at the prospect of being guided and at his praise.

Eric chuckles.

It’s then, that low pleased croon falling over you, that your own self-control wanes. Your hand wanders between your soft thighs, needing to touch yourself at seeing him so undone. Hating that you loved the idea of him using you for his own pleasure in that moment so much, but helpless against the euphoria of it.

With a jerk, Eric’s dick leaves your mouth entirely and his hand yanks back sharply at the roots of your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself," he warns, eyes bright but hold unrelenting.

You stare up at him with wide eyes for a long moment, dead air still as usual in your chest, then slowly nod your head.

“…correct.”

A light tug.

"So?"

Blinking, your brows furrow briefly before, with a start, you cut your eyes up at him. "So I have to wait for permission to masturbate? That’s how we’re doing this?"

He chuckles, eyeing you just as narrowly with a smirk. "Uh huh,” he grunts, voice as soft as it gets. “Exactly that.”

Finally he starts to move his dick again, dragging it across your cheek and teasing it across your lips. You’re still giving him a sour look though and you watch his teeth grind before he reiterates himself.

"Fine, I’ll be clearer. I haven’t given you permission to touch shit, act like it.”

"Alright,” you mutter, leaning back into his hold. “I got you, E, I’ll behave."

Quickly, you look up at him after the “nickname” slips off your tongue. Eric was picky about that shit, and really the only person you’ve ever seen him not correct or kill for calling him anything other than Eric (or especially Blade) was Whistler.

Eric only hums and loosens his grip on your hair though, scratching carefully over your scalp as you eye him.

No biting comment. Not even a warning look. He doesn’t seem to have caught the abbreviation at all.

Well.

You can’t imagine why he let you calling him outside his name slide, but you weren’t going to speak on it if he isn’t.

With a soft exhale you let your eyelids fall to half mast and nod for him; reconfirming. If he wanted you docile you could play at it for a bit, for him.

“I would’ve let your ass cum earlier if you weren’t so damn impatient,” he reminds you, never one to let you forget you’ve got a wound and he’s got plenty of salt.

You really ought to just deck him in the face, you muse as he strokes himself. There was just truly no way a day could go by without his ass doing far too much.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter.

Eric scoffs, having heard you crystal clear despite your distance and low pitch, and brings his hand down to cup your cheek.

For a few seconds he stays silent, just brushing the soft unblemished pad of his thumb over your brown skin, before his grip grows firm enough to keep your head in place. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it stays a steady reminder that he’s in charge right now and you don’t fight against that, letting him push his dick past your lips and begin thrusting slow and deep once more.

"Mmm, I'll let you cum eventually. All you have to do is listen."

With a noise of confirmation, you start bobbing your head, meeting his thrusts with each pass.

Eric groans low, thrusts deeply, and holds his dick there. The way his chest heaves registers as cute to you, so very human; seemingly too delicate for such a dangerous killer.

"Hn— fuck yes,” he rumbles.

You hum low in your throat, an idea popping into your mind when his hips snap forward on reflex and his pelvis rubs your inner lip against the area above your teeth where your fangs retreat. The pressure threatens to make them drop without your say so.

Silent, you grasp his shaft and slide him out of your mouth with a small pop.

“Y-n—”

"I’m not fucking with you, just hold on," you say, cutting him off as your freezing hand grasps his inferno of a dick.

If Eric minds it’s not enough for him to take himself back; only one of his eyebrows raise in question and that’s the extent of it.

Meeting his gaze, you let your fangs drop with a click — slow enough so he can see, but he still doesn’t stop you — and take his length in once more.

He moans.

Teeth protruding, you take him in until your nose is tucked against his pelvis, fangs scraping against his sensitive dick all the while. Have him swearing under his breath and his hands trembling as he clutches both at the back of your head; your mouth suctioned to him, his hands cushioned by your plush hair, and fingers sunk into your curls the only things keeping him upright.

Your eyes slide shut and you surrender completely to how he uses you, hands clenched painfully against your thighs and blood dilated drool gliding down your chin.

Eric’s head snaps back and his body trembles as his cum coats the back of your esophagus, a garbled shout tearing from his throat.

He holds you in place, likely watching how your throat bobs as you swallow his seed.

After a few minutes of him calming down, breathe hitching at the brush of your fangs when you retract them from his welted flesh and every time you subconsciously swallow, his grip softens and he releases his hold on your head entirely as he slips out of your mouth.

Eric laughs, low and steady and fucking perfect like he practically never does.

It’s only then that you remember to open your eyes and you blink slowly up to him.

His fangs are out now, a trickle of blood running down his chin from where he bit clean through his bottom lip, and his eyes…

You feel yourself sigh before you can stifle the urge, and undeniably he notices because those already bright eyes seem to glow with their amber as they meet yours.

Eric was prettier than one man had any right to be.

He puts his bloody, already healing, dick away and zips his pants back up. Something you’ll be sure to rectify after you’ve let the man sleep before you slip back into the night. Dhampir or not Eric shouldn’t have the beginnings of bags under his eyes, not with his healing factor.

But Eric’s inability to allow himself to slow down was something you had plenty of practice with amending by now; whether that be with a fight or a fuck.

“You gon let me get my hands on you now?”

Something like that.

With inhuman speed you crawl up Eric’s body. Strong shoulders and steady legs hold your weight without budging before his arms wrap around you to keep you in place.

“Bed,” you order, wrapping around him in turn, your ankles crossed at his back and arms around his shoulders.

You smile at him as he’s securing you, full-toothed and a little mean. Run the tips of your sharp manicured nails over the subtle indent of his scalp tattoo and the fine hairs prickling at the back of his head, and wait while he moves you both across the room.

“You’re eager,” Eric grunts, one corner of his mouth ticking up.

Laughing, you lean into him even more, lips grazing the shell of his ear and teeth nipping at his lobe.

“You’re the one carrying me.”

He cuts you a look and you shrug. He can’t tell you shit when you were clearly speaking the truth, though, and his mouth stays steady shut.

"Only the best for the greatest vampire hunter in the world," you snicker, kissing his cheek.

All the Daywalker does in the face of your teasing is grumble unintelligibly and then you’re falling through the air.

You’re flipping him off before you’ve even landed, and your middle finger is still in the air when you’re bouncing atop his mattress.

“Is this new?” you question immediately after, eyes panning over his black sheets and contemplating the higher level of cushion beneath your ass.

Color you surprised that was the way his new “friends’” influence has impacted him. Barely six months ago Eric wouldn’t have thrown away a t-shirt he’d been beaten and mauled in, just thrown it in the wash and stitched the shit back up “good as new”, let alone buy a new mattress without it having basically been split in half.

“Who convinced you— shit!” you exclaim, too slow to speed out of the way so Eric can’t catch you up.

He’s looming over you in a blur, smile almost boyish.

Eric hikes your leg over his hip, warm breathe fanning over your lips, “What I tell you about playing with me?”

The smile that pulls at your lips to meet his own is slow forming but wide.

You cock your head.

“Oh so when you’re in charge you get to fuck with me all you want, but I don’t get to do what I want with you when I am?”

“Stop being a smartass.”

"Having captured the attention of someone as rare as you, Daywalker, I don’t think I can be anymore." You brush your lips against his, taking the hand he’s not using to prop himself up and guiding it where you want him to be. "Now do what you promised, pretty boy," you coo, pressing his hand into your soaked underwear.

It’s damp with a mixture of natural slick and blood and Eric shivers, breath hitching, before quickly stripping you of your panties. The fabric rips and he doesn’t even blink at your noise of complaint, just makes sure you hook your leg over his hip as he throws your soaked underwear to the ground.

When the dhampir moves to make out with you it’s smothering, the press of his lips all consuming, and the fangs that nip at you sharp. You match him kiss for kiss and bite for bite.

Eric grips your upper thigh tight and you dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back as his fingers glide across your wet folds.

A string of tiny curses and whines for more leave your lips at the sudden fullness of his fingers thrusting into you and his thumb teasing over your clit. Groaning into his mouth, you open your legs wider for him and arch into his touch, eyes squeezing shut.

"Nng, Eric please,” you moan into his skin, your hands scrambling up to wrap around his shoulders.

His pounding is relentless, only just missing your g-spot on every thrust, but you want more.

You sink your fingers into his cropped hair, yanking on his tight curls and pushing down at him with your other hand on his shoulder to urge him where you want.

Eric chuckles, letting up from your mouth to nip little welts down your throat and place tender kisses to your neck and collarbones as he moves his fingers, still simultaneously thrusting and rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long till your legs are shaking uncontrollably against him and he’s hiking both over his shoulders though.

You nearly sob in relief when he finally runs the point of his fangs over your outer labia, engorged clit pulsing with the assistance of the stolen blood still in your veins (both Eric’s and not).

When Eric delves into your sex it’s with the vigor of a man starved. He licks and sucks and drinks his fill all while you’re bucking your hips into his mouth, muted unbidden whimpers falling past your kiss bitten lips.

His hands rub soothingly up and down your raised thighs, heedless of their trembling over your stomach and the way you let your chest heave.

"You about to come for me already?" he chuckles against your folds, voice cocky.

Not giving you time to snap at him he takes one of his hands off your thighs, trusting you to keep it up, and makes a point of waiting until you open your eyes to question his dawdling before making his next move. Eric locks eyes with you, rubbing two fingers through the pale red arousal pouring from your vagina with little urgency, and you’re a beat of his heart away from swiping at him for fucking with you when his fingers sink into your slick pussy.

You shout, that nebulous point of euphoria edging nearer.

His hand speeds up soon after. Once again giving you little mercy while he pistons his fingers in and out of you and your slick runs down your dewy skin without care for the sheets under you.

Vampiric claws scrape at Eric’s ink decorated shoulders as you pepper him with demands and bits of praise, only stopping to hiss out roughly in pleasure with your fangs bared when he takes to sucking on your clit like he’s trying to draw blood.

“Fuck,” you growl, eyes rolling to the back of your head and hips bucking wildly.

Eric pins you down, spread of his hands wide where he’s holding onto your thighs, and bites. The juncture between your leg and pelvis flares with pain and you choke before pitching into a wail and falling straight over the edge into an orgasm.

You barely have the mind to snap your arm up so you can bite into your forearm and muffle your noises as Eric sinks his fangs into you and drinks even more of his fill. And whatever crimson mead he got from your vagina clearly hadn’t been enough because the man was sucking on you like a damn Capri Sun.

“J— Jesus fuck, E,” you gasp, slumping into the bed.

Your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sounds of his gulps the soundtrack to your hazy bliss.

When he’s finished Eric doesn’t lap at you the way you had his wrist; instead he pulls off, easing your legs to flop down to the bed too, and rubs his thumb over the trickles of blood running from your inner thigh.

He holds his thumb up to your lips and you open up to suck it into your mouth. Your ice cold blood is a cacophony of types. A mixture of AB, O, and B dance across your tongue while Eric gazes down at you like you’re the closest thing to a god he’ll ever need.

Eric removes his thumb, sucks at your saliva, and then slumps against you.

The vampire hunter kisses delicately over the undead skin of your forehead, the press of his lips soft and unscarred.

You let yourself sigh, stretching out your body as your refractory period ends, and tuck yourself under your occasional partner’s chin.

When Eric — big bad Blade — cradles you to his chest in turn your eyebrows tick up. Head resting against his chest, you drum the pads of your fingers over where his heart beats and go with it anyway.

“Touchy,” you hum lowly.

Eric grunts in response, pretty much just ignoring the twinge of accusation in your voice.

You grin into his skin.

It was worth a shot.

“How long till you leave?” he asks, tone his poorest attempt at nonchalance yet even with his grumbling.

You sigh, shifting in his hold so you can look him in the face. His arms tighten around you, the gaze he pins you with shadowed with something too close to sorrow.

"As soon as possible," you say, a frown pulling at your ageless features. “I’ve got some time sensitive targets.”

“Mm,” he grunts. He looks away from you, jaw clenched. “So I’m outta luck.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that yet,” you say, moving to kiss the corner of his scowl. “I can spare a night.”

“Huh.” He squeezes at your hips. “You sure? Thought you’d be more into all that sleeping in coffins bullshit.”

You chuckle, tone dark. Skilled fingers brush across his jawline, touch delicate and nails sharp where they dip into his skin.

They don’t break blood, however.

And Eric doesn’t stop you besides.

Softly, you click your tongue, “I mean, I like a good coffin every once in a while. Frills, fluffy pillows, dark and locked tight, you know the drill.” Meeting his eyes, you smirk. Show him a little fang. “Your arms are good too, though.”

“Thanks.” Eric gives a grunt of a laugh, shaking his head.

He doesn’t remotely dislodge you though, and that shadow you could see slipping over his face stays askew over those pretty amber eyes still.

You could spare a night with Eric, be something of a haven of familiarity for him, before he embarked on another hunt and you went back to knocking out hearts in the name of human protection for breakfast.

Or you know…in the name of your own bloodlust.

Tomato, Tamato.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!!!

Yeah, I tried.

The reader-insert isn’t on her period, I just kind of went the ‘blood is every bodily fluid’ route for the vampires here ala True Blood. And I know the rule is not to use teeth ever (and for good reason) but I just find the idea that vampires are built different fun.

Also, if this is bad you can tell me, but please be nice. I’ve been working on this thing all day and I’m tired. And honestly by the time I got to the reader-insert’s orgasm I only had four hours and thirty minutes left in the day.

Mind any typos, I’m half asleep rn, and I’ll probably catch them later.

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

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goldenstring6123 · 4 months ago

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hello ! wanted to say i really love your writing style and your stories for the characters ! I wanted to know if you’d write one for Love and deep space Sylus? A scenario where you’re both sleeping but you sneak away quietly to get something from the kitchen or for whatever reason but he stops you with his powers (the handcuffs etc) to bring you back to bed. I’m not sure if i’m making sense but something along those lines! please and thank you!

Sylus: Kitchen Sneaker

Warning: No warning. Fem!reader, domestic fluff (?)

Author's note: This is a fun domestic-ish prompt to write! I hope you like it my dear pookies <3

masterlist | Buy me a thread? |

Sylus was fast asleep beside you.

The man was a light sleeper for the sake of his own safety. According to him, even if the building was as secure as it could be, there were some instances where he woke up with a knife to his throat. However, ever since you began sharing the same bed, he had been sleeping like a log, which was good for him and the twins because they no longer had to deal with his hot head so early in the evening.

But it was bad for you. Simply because Sylus likes to hold you in his sleep. Sometimes his hand would be over your chest, groping your breast or squeezing in between your boobs, but most times, he would be holding your wrist, checking your pulse. How was this bad for you? Well, living alone for most of your adult life, you liked to indulge yourself in a midnight snack or two. With him holding you captive to the bed, his iron grip holding on to you, it was like you had a ball and chain around your body.

You've indulged Sylus for over a week now, but the intense midnight craving is overwhelming.

Tonight, it's food over Sylus. The man can wait. Food cannot.

You scooted his hand very, very, very gently away from your body. This man's hand is heavy and large. Sylus didn't move and continued to sleep peacefully, his exposed chest rising and falling calmly. The room was very cold, and you could even hear the blowing of the AC; it was at that moment that you realized how such small sounds seemed to be so loud at night.

With every step you take, you are holding your breath even more. Even against the carpet, the rustling of your feet seemed like it could stir Sylus awake at any second. Thankfully, you managed to traverse across the room like a spy. You even had to carefully close the door shut.

You used the stairs to get down to the kitchen, and while you were walking in the hallway, the chef was just about to leave, his satchel bag on his shoulder.

He and you made eye contact. You gestured to him to 'shush,' and he laughed.

"There's some leftover dessert and pasta in the fridge—feel free to eat it," he whispered, and you grinned, giving him a thumbs up. Greg is the best chef ever. You tiptoed to the kitchen, waving him goodbye. Your eyes landed on that double-door fridge that was whirring loudly.

Finally! You could taste that delicious panna cotta and aglio olio in your mouth. Your hands wrapped around the handle of the fridge, and as you tugged, the bright blue light of the fridge lit up your face.

You took the plate and settled it on the stainless steel counter. The next one was the small glass filled with chocolate and cream. You marveled at its delicate, savory look. You took a spoon from the nearby utensil holder and dug it into the soft texture, eager to get a taste.

Before it could land between your lips—

A cold whirlwind of black, scentless smoke wrapped around the fork. It flung out of your grasp, and before you could let out a peep, you, too, were flung away from the kitchen counter.

The man let out a grunt, his eyes low-lidded and foggy, clearly just woken up from his slumber.

"Pray tell," he gruffed, his voice an octave lower. "What are you doing in the kitchen? You're supposed to be in bed." Sylus let out a sigh while he brought you closer to him. He glanced behind you and saw the unopened plate of pasta and panna cotta.

"Never mind. You don't need to speak."

"I'm hungry! Don't you know you shouldn't get between a woman and her food?" you exclaimed while tugging at the thing around your exposed waist. You thrashed and thrashed, the straps of your nightshirt sliding down your shoulders. "Put me down and go back to bed! I'll be with you in five—no, fifteen minutes!"

His head was aching from all the noise you were making, and combined with the fact that you were out of bed by the time he woke up—to Sylus, it seemed like you were testing his patience. "Did you not eat enough during dinner time? You know you could've asked for second servings."

"I get midnight cravings on occasion, but when I'm sleeping over, you tend to weigh me down in bed," you explained, flailing your legs, which were a few feet off the ground.

"So, you're blaming me now?" Sylus raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. Of course, you were. It wasn't your fault you couldn't get out of bed, and it wasn't your fault that the chef made great food and desserts. He didn't like the look on your face but, regardless, put you down to the floor, his hand tugging your strap over your shoulders. His red eyes glazed over your bare chest, but he turned away, walking to that lonely plate of pasta.

"We're going back to sleep after you have your fill." Sylus unwrapped the plate and took a fork, twirling it and taking a bite. The oily, mild tinge of spiciness and Parmesan helped push him awake. He won't deny that the chef was good at his job—it was even enough for you to sneak out of his bed.

You mounted yourself onto the kitchen island, the cold marble surface cooling the bottom of your thigh. You took the panna cotta, and finally, the creamy and sweet flavor of chocolate and cream exploded in your mouth. Unconsciously, you nodded in approval of the taste.

Quietly, you ate in each other's company, occasionally making small talk. Sylus left the dish in the sink along with the fork, but when he turned to you, your nose was inside the refrigerator again. "Cake roll slice…" you uttered. The strawberry cake roll looked delicious inside the glass container.

Before you could even reach out to it, the smoke appeared at the very same spot, dragging you away from the fridge. Sylus closed the double-door refrigerator and crossed his arms right in front of you. A clear 'no' was plastered all over his face.

You let out a groan as he dragged you away with the smoky black and red rope around your waist.

When you got back to the bedroom, you expected Sylus to go right back to sleep. But instead, the man pulled a handcuff from underneath his pillow. How and why it was, there was a question you didn't want to ask him. Without another word coming out of his mouth, he chained it to himself and took hold of your wrist.

"No. You're not going to—"

He latched the real handcuff around your wrists and laid down on the bed, dragging you with him.

"Sleep."

The lights dimmed and flickered off at his word, and you just lay there, staring up at the canopy.

"I guess this is our bedtime routine now," you sighed.

"Sleep," he reiterated.

You seriously have no idea how you put up with this man.

Author footnotes: I also like to sneak out to the kitchen and eat but instead of sylus, It's my mom who sees me and then i get the clothes hanger beat up for staying up late at night lol.

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

#lnds #lnds sylus #lads xavier #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds #sylus lnd #SYLUS #sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x y/n

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aliidarling · 5 months ago

Note

Ok so reader only know ghostface without the mask and one day catches him take off his mask during a kill and she says that’s hot and he finds out she has a mask kink and maybe like predator prey with squirting ?

He’s lucky she’s into bad boys. Fluff to nsfw

make you mine

ETHAN LANDRY x fem!reader

nsfw content — pls scroll if uncomfortable!

summary: you have a study date with your crush and walk in on him wearing his silly ghostface robe

warnings: smut, p in v, blood, oral, light choking, creampie, sweet and mean ethan kinda, mask kink, ethan is our cute psycho bae

i hope you like it :) i’m sorry i didn’t really know how to include predator prey

nsfw content below !!

it had been a few months since you met ethan. he was all you’ve ever wanted— sweet, caring, smart, and dorky. you were into all the same things, from star wars down to gaming. the only thing that wasn’t identical between the two of you were your study habits.

you wouldn’t say you were a troubled student, no, you were struggling student. you needed help, and who’s better to help you then your hot crush who happens to be a straight A+ student?

you had talked it over with him the other day and you both agreed you’d come down to his dorm tonight for a study date— session. he said chad was with tara tonight so it would be just the two of you, ridding you of chads loud yelling. chad was nice, you loved him, but he could get quite a bit annoying when it comes to his gaming or sports shows.

so here you stood, knocking on ethan’s dorm door. silence is all that answered you. you were quite annoyed, you had been standing here for a few minutes now, staring at the wood in your face and waiting for it to open. but thus, no answer. worst part? you could hear the sound of someone walking around and moving things inside. ethan was home. was he ignoring you?

“ethan?” you call out, now getting a little worried. there had been a killer on the loose recently, going by the name ghostface. his shrieking mouth and wide black eyes lingered in your head, for good and bad reasons you didn’t wanna discuss. a voice whispered in your ear, telling you ethan was in trouble inside.

your hand found its way on the handle and slowly turned it, blinking in surprise when it opens with a small creak. it wasn’t like ethan or chad to leave their door ever unlocked. odd.

you step in and immediately freeze at the sight of blood trails on the ground, splattered over the floor and leading to ethan’s room. you gulp nervously and quickly lock the door behind you, worriedly rushing to his kitchen to grab a knife before slowly walking towards his bedroom.

you peeked your head in, looking around the dark young adult room. he had a large bed in the corner of the room, with dozens of pillows and a plaid navy blue blanket, his clothes hanging on the edges. his desk was next to his bed, also working as his nightstand, with his gaming set up on the top. you loved his gaming set up, it was always fun to play on it or watch him play himself.

but it wasn’t how messy his room was that had you gaping in shock— no, it was the sight of him standing in the middle of the room with his back to you, black robe stained with bloody smears on his body, and a familiar mask in his hands. he was looking around the room in a rush, trying to change out of it quickly before you came, you assumed.

“ethan?” you choked out, your voice pathetically small.

he jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately turning to face you. his eyes are wide, brown curls messy and his plump lips parted in surprise. horror takes over his expression as he gawks at you, holding the mask silently for a moment before shoving it behind his mask.

“what are you doing here?” he coughs awkwardly.

you gaze at him, blinking dumbly.

“we.. had.. a study da— session.”

“..right.” he gulps hard. he didnt forget, of course he didn’t. he had been freaking out all week about having the perfect night with you. he was gonna play a movie and study with you and play some games— not whatever the hell this is.

“..you’re.. the ghostface.” you mumble and step forward, shutting the door behind you. he blinks in surprise at your easiness and how you weren’t on your knees crying. you were calm. collected. it freaked him out a little.

“you’re not screaming and crying.” he comments, dark eyes staring you down as you finally step face to face with him. a small smile tugs at your lips, hands going to gently pull the mask from his hands to look over the white plastic now stained red.

“i’m just glad you’re okay,” you mumble, rubbing the blood smudge, “i saw the blood trail and assumed the worst.” you smile up at him. he shudders.

this was weird. you weren’t scared at all. no, you were giving him bedroom eyes and showing your pretty little smile at him. he wants to scoop you up already.

“you do realize i’m the ghostface, right?” he scoffs, one hand going to gently take your chin. his robe and bloody appearance gives him more confidence, letting him take ahold of your face to pull him closer. “the same dude who’s been trying to kill all our friends.”

he doesn’t miss the way your cheeks burn up at his touch. a small grin appears on his face. he couldn’t of fallen in love with a more perfect woman.

“as long as you don’t hurt me.” you smile sheepishly and look him up and down, scanning his attire more clearly now that you’re up close. it’s slightly sparkly, the fabric glistening from his led lights.

“i would never hurt you.” he coo’s, gently rubbing his thumb against your porcelain skin. his gloves are thick but you can still feel his warmth against your skin, rubbing a small amount of blood onto your skin. he smiles at the contrast of your cute face with the blood stain.

your lips part by themselves as you look up at him, lashes batting. he takes one good look at your face and immediately knows what you want. one hand wraps around your small waist and the other tangles itself in your hair, pulling you against his lips with a small moan.

the kiss is gentle and slow, soft pants leaving the two of you between each kiss. your skin felt milky in his hands. you had imagined the two of you kissing many times— during your lunch break and when you had movie nights with the whole friend group, but you never imagined it like this.

with blood all over him, the ghostface mask in your hand and his rough hands gently scooping you up into his arms. his muscles have never been more prominent, making you cling tighter and let out a small moan into his lips. he groans at your soft little noise, pulling you closer and starting to walk you towards his bed.

with a soft thud your back hits the mattress, blinking up at him with a flushed expression and a smile creeping onto your lips. he begins to put his mask off to the side before you quickly catch his wrist, “wait, don’t.” you say. he frowns down at you in surprise, brow raising up.

“don’t what?” he hums in amusement.

“keep.. it.. on.” you mutter hesitantly.

oh, you were gonna be the death of him for sure. your cute little smile and big eyes blinking up at him innocently, as if you didn’t just ask him to fuck you in his mask. he can’t help but immediately smash his lips back onto yours, taking advantage of the last few seconds he’ll be able to kiss you.

his hands are gentle with you but in a hurry as he tugs down your clothes, pulling down your bottoms and yanking your top off you. he’s trying be careful— but he can’t wait any longer for your sweet taste.

“i’m gonna use my mouth on you and then i’ll put the mask on, okay?” he whispers, glancing at you with pleading brown eyes. you nod meekly and part your thighs, watching as he lowers his head between them and presses a soft kiss to your folds. you let out a soft exhale at that, your hands going to tangle themselves in his soft hair. you make sure you don’t accidentally pull his hair too hard.

his lips aren’t very experienced when it comes to pleasing women but he tries his best, sucking at your clit while his gloved fingers prod at your hole, gently sliding in a finger and curling it up into your g-spot. the noise you make motivates him further, his sucking increasing in its pressure as he wiggles his finger.

“please, just like that-“ you gasp, your legs finding their way over his shoulders. your feet kick lightly against his muscular back, eyes fluttered shut in bliss and mouth agape with noises falling out like a broken record.

he hums, muffled by your pussy. the vibration makes you shiver and clench down on his fingers. he notices and decides to add in his second finger, giving your clit a few little nibbles to distract you from the stretch. you whine lewdly and he chuckles lightly.

a few more minutes are spent of him slowly building you up until you fall over the edge, moaning happily as he drives his thick fingers deeper and deeper until you cum on his fingers, some of it getting on his chin. his lower face glows with your essence, parting after a moment with a slow breath.

“so perfect for me.” his lips perk up, hands going to tug at your waist, pulling you further down the bed until your right under him. he kneels over you, grabbing his mask and pulling it back on. your reaction is immediate, cheeks flushing at the sight of the tall masked man, bloody mask and robe looming over your naked form.

“never thought you’d be into this, doll.” he muses, feeling a switch in his personality with the confidence the mask gives him. his hands are quick to pull his robe aside, pulling his hard cock out from his sweatpants. it slaps against his abdomen with a soft squelch, the pre cum glistening with his tip throbbing red.

“gonna be a good girl and take this cock?” he asks gently, crawling over you.

“yes ghostface..” you giddily smile, grinning up at him as he presses your thighs to your chest and giving him access to your core. he smiles under his mask in approval, gently rubbing circles on your thighs, before pressing his head against your opening. he watches your face as he slowly inches it in, going deeper and deeper into your gummy walls, splitting you apart in his girth.

“fuck, feels s’good ethan.” you say in an almost whiny tone, gawking at the stretch and how good it feels to have your best friend finally dick you down the way you’ve been imagining for months. you’re rendered speechless as he impales you slowly and gently, relishing in how you moan so pretty.

“it’s ghostface to you, baby.” he corrected with a cocky tone. once the words leave his mouth, he delivers a harsh thrust into you, making you bite down and squeak. the stretch is barely there anymore— your wetness letting him easily make his home inside you.

“s-sorry, sorry, please ghostface—“ you quickly replied, chest heaving up and down as he starts a pace. your mouth falls open as his fat head slams against your cervix, hands holding your thighs tightly down with an almost bruising grip. when you imagined finally having sex with him, you pictured gentle and slow love making, not this.

his shrieking expression stared down at you emotionlessly, the blood reminding you he had just murdered someone before pushing his cock inside you. their blood was all over the room, staining the floor and now your porcelain skin. and for some odd reason, your pussy clamped down on him harder at that.

“you’re— so— so damn, tight—“ he hisses lowly, a guttural groan coming from him. he harshly slams inside you, one of his hands going to wrap around your throat and squeeze. the choking catches you off guard, blinking up at him in distraught before whimpering pathetically.

he snickers at that. “such a god damn whore,” he laughs, squeezing your airway gently while thrusting harder and harder into your pussy. “moaning like a slut while the blood of an innocent person gets all over them.” he huffs.

he pulls himself down, pressing his chest against your thighs. “my slut, right?” he coos in an almost sweet tone, mocking you no doubt. you nod with a muffled cry, feeling your orgasm near once again. he could feel himself growing close to his climax as well, his cock throbbing intensely inside you.

“fuck— fuck, gonna cum? gonna cum for me?” he gives your thigh a little swat before pressing his rough fingers against your clit, pinching and rubbing it harshly as you squeal. he doesn’t let up on his pace at all, rather taking your choked up noises as more reason to go harder.

your nod is eager and messy, big watery eyes gazing up at his mask. your pussy was too tight and he could feel himself cumming already, his thrusts slowing down until he gives you one last little jerk of his hips. a soft sigh leaves him as your walls spasm around him tightly. his eyes widen in shock as you squirt all over his cock and robe, a gasp leaving the two of you.

it’s silence for a moment before he starts snickering, staring down at the mess you made of his robe. your cheeks turn red and you weakly sit up, blinking at him with dazed eyes and swollen lips. he could see the light mark his hand made around your neck, making him almost harden again.

“s-shut up, i didn’t know i could do that!” you hiss defensively, blushing and squeezing your thighs shut. he laughs and shakes his head, pulling his mask off and shaking his curls free.

“dont worry about it baby, just lay back. lemme clean you up and then maybe we can do that studying.” he snorts. you roll your eyes and reluctantly lay back down, staring at him.

“are you, uh, actually ghostface?” your small question breaks the silence as he fixes you up. he scowls down at you.

“yeah, dumbass.”

#ghost face x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream #scream 6 #scream x reader #jack champion

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landoughnut · 1 month ago

Text

Mine All Mine

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - oscar piastri x fem!reader (fc - hailee steinfeld)

♡ summary - (request :) oscar obsessing over his girlfriend on the internet!

♡ warnings - horny/simp oscar, crack, some fluff, some cursing, use of y/n

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | thank you so so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy lovely xx

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