#but came up with Michael's on the spot

[freddy-owo]

(/p) BOYF RIENDS AS FURRIES!!1!1!1!1!!1!1!1!!

=D

[lelsiemeyers]

time for my monthly tumblr post!!!

[mimi-landgraab]

Introducing Isobel Bachelor

[i-arch-my-backula]

Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Patrick Bateman

He got a little too careless and right as he was killing someone you walked in, getting covered in blood from the victim. You of course start to scream and he quickly covers your mouth.

He's so angry with you for interrupting this, but something about seeing your face and body covered with blood, excites him. "I can explain this. Calm down and listen to me." He says, trying to keep his voice calm. His anger starts to mix with arousal as he slowly slides his hand away from your mouth.

"Oh my god Patrick what happened? Who is this?" You ask, holding back tears. His attraction to you is starting to get a bit too much for him. He'll find a way to explain this murder, just like he'll find a way to explain why he wants to do it while you're covered in blood.

"He broke in and attacked me. I had to fight him off and I went a bit too hard I think. We can't tell anyone about this alright?" He says, trying his best to keep a calm, in control voice, "But right now we need to get to the bedroom.

Murder's don't get him as excited as seeing you covered in blood got him. He'll have to go out and buy some fake blood and recreate this with you again. He's glad he has such an understanding s/o.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

[l4ndonorizz]

falling in love in 4k - lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

warnings: none

song: Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein - The first I love you

summary: Lando falling in love with a reporter in 4k

wc: 1.1k

The event was buzzing with energy as you moved through the crowd, mic in hand, ready to ask the next set of questions. You’d been working as a motorsport reporter for a while now, but something about this event felt different—mostly because Lando Norris was in attendance.

He caught your eye as you approached him, his signature smile in place, but there was something different about the way he looked at you.

“Hey, Lando! Ready for a few questions?” you asked with a grin, trying to keep things professional. You’d interviewed him before, but lately, the interviews had started to feel more personal—like the way he lingered after your questions, as if waiting for more than just the next topic.

“Always,” he replied, flashing that familiar grin. But his eyes weren’t just on you—they were locked on you. Not in the usual way drivers look at reporters, but in a way that made your stomach flip.

As the camera crew got ready, you could feel the subtle tension building. You weren’t imagining things, right? The way he was looking at you—there was no mistaking it.

“Alright, Lando, let’s start with how you’re feeling about the upcoming race…”

He answered, of course, but as the conversation flowed, you couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze softened when you spoke, or how his smile grew whenever your name came up in the conversation. It was like he wasn’t just talking to a reporter; he was talking to you.

Later, when the interview was over and you moved to the next person, you could feel Lando’s eyes lingering on you. It made your cheeks flush, and you tried to shake off the feeling.

But it wasn’t long before the internet caught on.

After the interview aired, clips of Lando staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room started circulating on Twitter. Fans started making jokes, sharing memes with captions like, “Lando Norris falling in love in 4K,” and “Lando’s got heart eyes for the reporter.”

It wasn’t just a one-time thing either. Every interview, every interaction you had with him seemed to fuel the rumors. Fans were quick to point out how his demeanor changed whenever you were around, and soon enough, the jokes started piling up.

And as much as you tried to laugh it off, every time you saw Lando after that, the way he looked at you only confirmed what the internet had already guessed—he was falling for you. Hard.

The Miami Grand Prix was no exception. The heat, the energy, the roaring crowd—it all seemed to amplify everything, especially the undeniable chemistry between you and Lando. You’d been assigned to cover post-race interviews, and after Lando’s stellar performance, the adrenaline was still coursing through both of you.

You weaved through the bustling pit lane, making your way to Lando, who was already surrounded by his team, celebrating the victory. His face was lit up with pure joy, and when his eyes finally met yours, you felt a flutter in your chest. He broke away from the group, wiping the sweat from his brow, and beelined towards you.

“Congrats, Lando! How does it feel to win in Miami?” you asked, holding the mic up to him, keeping your voice professional, even though inside, your heart was racing.

He was still panting from the race, the adrenaline clear in his eyes as he grinned, but there was something else—something more intense in the way he looked at you.

“It feels… unreal,” he said, running a hand through his damp hair. “The car was amazing, the strategy was spot on, and Miami… well, it’s always got that extra bit of magic.”

You laughed softly, catching the spark in his eyes. “You sure it’s just Miami, or are you feeling that post-race high?”

Lando chuckled, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s the win and… something else.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. “Care to elaborate?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make it more personal, more intimate. “I think you already know.”

The crowd around you was buzzing, but it felt like the world had faded for a second, leaving just the two of you standing there, the tension thickening between you. You couldn’t help but smile, the air between you charged with something that wasn’t just post-race excitement anymore.

And then, as you were about to pull away to wrap up the interview, Lando suddenly grabbed the mic, still smiling but with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Actually, there’s one more thing,” he said, his voice clear, but you could see the adrenaline coursing through him as his words tumbled out.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s that?”

“In all this excitement… I almost forgot to ask,” he said, turning to look directly into the camera, still holding the mic. “How would you feel about going on a date with me?”

Your eyes widened, and the pit lane erupted in gasps and laughter. You were live on air, every viewer watching this unfold in real time. Lando’s grin widened as the shock registered on your face, but you could see the genuine hope behind the teasing. He wasn’t just messing around—he was serious.

You blinked, momentarily speechless as the cameras zoomed in on both of you. The world seemed to freeze, all eyes on you, waiting for your answer. You could feel the tension in the air, but all you could focus on was Lando, his expectant smile, and the pounding in your chest.

“I—uh, I think… I think I could be convinced,” you finally said, trying to keep your voice steady, but you couldn’t hide the smile that spread across your face.

The crowd burst into cheers, and Lando, clearly riding the high of both the race and your answer, laughed, running a hand through his hair again. “Well, that’s a yes, then!”

He handed the mic back to you with a triumphant grin, winking as he stepped back into the crowd of his team. You stood there, your mind racing as the reality of what had just happened sunk in.

The internet would have a field day with this. But right now, all you could think about was how you’d just agreed to go on a date with Lando Norris—live, on air. And from the look on his face, this was only the beginning.

[anomaly-hivemind]

Whore Convention ☆ Ghostface, Michael Meyers, Jason Voorhees, Pennywise, Jeepers Creepers, Slenderman, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Albert Wesker, and Pyramid Head x Reader | Kinktober Day 9

Summary: Part two of horror convention, reader uses their VIP pass to have some fun at different stations.

Word Count: 2673

Tags: free use, gangbang, rough sex, overstimulation, mask kink, cum as lube, fem reader,, degradation, spit-roasting, creampies, convention, non-human characters, non-human genital, size difference, size kink, large cock, manhanding, spit as lube, face fucking, semi-public, multiple orgasm, vaginal fingering, monsterfucking, double penetration. Anal, tentacles, bukkake

It's that time of year again, it was time to go to another horror convention. You have been to a couple of them, all very entertaining in their own right but this one feels like it's going to have a different vibe at least according to your friend. She had gone to her first convention last year and swore that it was the best experience of her life and even changed her forever. ( her words). She gave you her VIP ticket because something had come up and she couldn’t make it. So she begged you to go, like literally begged and you were sure she would have cried if you said no. Saying that this opportunity could not be wasted just because of her and that quote on quote someone needs to have their holes filled in her place, which you are sure is some random euphemism she made up or something.

You had nothing better to do on a near Halloween weekend, nothing you cared about that is. You put on a nice cosplay from Jennifer's body. You were wearing a very purple cheerleading outfit, its skirt wasn't incredibly short and the top even though it was long-sleeved was a bit too small so it was a bit cropped. But that's all alright because you look good and a few people recognized the DK on the shirt.

You looked down at your VIP pass to see the location and the time. As well as a cute little skull on the corner. It was on the furthest corner of the building you were in but you still have time to buy or look at a few things before you walk over to that event spot. All you got were a few posters for your room, you even had time to put them back in your car.

===============================================================================

You walked to your Vip event spot in the convention building. It didn't seem like there were a lot of people over here beside you. A person leads you into the room and you go and sit in the small crowd. The spokesperson you assumed got on the stage and spoke into the mic.

“May our lucky vip please come to the stage” the woman spoke and everyone waited For someone. You also look around for a moment wondering who it was but no one came to the stage.

“um if you have a skull of your pass you our lucky vip… could you come on the stage.” You looked down at your card… and noticed that you had a skull. Well shit.

You reluctantly get up and head to the stage, after you were sure that no one else was gonna get up and then confirm once with a door staff that you were in fact the person they were talking about. While they shoved a paper for you to sign, you didn't bother reading much of it and just wrote your signature. It was something like a consent to participate in the event and you didn't want to be kicked out so you didn't hesitate.

You look out in the crowd, now feeling like there were more people now that you weren't among all of them and a bunch of them were in hardcore cosplay.

“Now look at you all pretty up for our little event.” the woman said and could you hear her southern accent. You smiled and thanked the woman.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Well why don't you pick a set of crowd goers. Doesn't matter how many.”

You assume this was some kinda cosplay contest and you got to pick. You picked A secluded few people who looked like they were straight from the respective franchise.

They all came up to the stage one after the other. You had to pick the Creeper, it almost gave you chills looking at him, the fit was spot on. Then you picked a Pennywise because you love a good clown. Purely for nostalgia you picked the few creepypasta you saw that being Eyeless Jack and Laughing Jack, you were sure that the slenderman had mechanical tentacles that even looked wet. Then your guilty pleasure of yours from all the mask wearers Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Pyramid Head and lastly you picked the Person who basically Could be his doppelganger Albert Wesker.

You shiver now they are all in front Of you. They were huge, like unnaturally so and you can't tell nor see any stilts. It makes A nervous sound come out of you as you have to look Up at most if not every single one of the men In front of you.

“Well that's a hefty pickin’s you've got.” The woman said before snapping her fingers a few times. Quick moving staff brought up some kind of privacy curtain. It made you confused. You looked at all ten of the people you had selected and just stood there.

“Well make sure you get a wheelchair after the event but don't keep your guess waitin’” she smirks.

“What?”

“You sighed the paperwork right?”

“Uhm yes?”

“Oh then your good, have fun being fucked and sucked.” with those words the spokeswoman ran off stage.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you had signed you for, that being to your consent form for some sex event your friend was supposed to be at instead of you. A shaky breath leaves your lips, you really picked a group of strangers to fuck you. A group of men who were all taller and bigger than you. What was most shocking to you though was the fact that you weren't fully opposed to all of it, if not a bit nervous. But you were down for it in a slightly whorish way.

Up close you couldn't help but look at how detailed each Of these men looked, if you were delusional or something like that you may assume right away that they were the real thing, but that was a completely crazy idea. Right?

Ghostface was the first to make a move on you. Practically ripping your shirt off and it falls to the ground then stealing your panties which you don't think you'd be getting back anytime soon or at all for that matter. You felt like the main character a porno being topless with just a mini skirt and shoes on. All of them were muttering pleased comments for the most part.

“What a willing whore” Wesker said, and his voice caused you to shiver in delight from how spot on it is. Actually they all sounded like their canon voices at least the talkers did. You didn't get much time to be shocked or think about it, when a tendril brought you to your knees. It felt slimy and wet and you couldn't help but touch it.

Jason bends your ass up as rubs his fat fingers between your folds. You bite back hiss, it was too much fiction too soon. Who noticed and pulled away for a moment . The Creeper smirks before moving near Jason and spits on you. You feel his thick saliva sliding down your lower lips and a bit down one of your legs. Jason moves his fingers back against his folds, this time with much ease. You could feel your arousal start to make way now.

The one with The blue mask stands in front of you while unzipping his pants. His cock jumping for your attention, you wrap A hand around it. You cover it in your mouth’s moisture and give it a few strokes, effectively coating his gray shaft with your spit. You open your mouth to get ready to take him. You look up at him as he grips your face and shivers his cock into your mouth. You gagged around him as the rough actions but try to avoid biting him. He was so distracting that almost didn't register Jason pushing two fingers into your walls. His fingers were very thick and it caused you to moan and Eyeless Jack's cock.

“Going a bit easy there” the scratchy voice of the monochromatic clown laughed out.

You weren't paying attention to what the clown said because all you really could think about was how good Jason was making you feel. You could feel your orgasm jumping to make a first appearance everytime you would feel the hockey masked man’s knuckle constantly brushing at your clit. Eyeless Jack was getting sloppy with his thrust and you knew he was getting closer and with you hollowing out your cheeks to help he started to topple over with pleasure. His cock throbbed a few times before shooting his load into your throat forcing you to swallow the cool liquid.

You were falling into your own peak and you could feel it becoming one with your senses, your eyes closed tight and your legs shaking as you fell past the teerting edge. You wanted to curse out as your orgasm gets cut short when Jason gets pulled away by another person, effectively ruining your orgasm. You let out a whimper, but it didn’t take long for the hole to be filled, you get shrouded in the shadow of the muscular pyramid head. You looked back at the beefy man and shivered. He was huge, very potential to be seven feet tall. He plunges his cock into you, and a scream, even with how wet you were he was large and stretching you out. Your eyes watered and a part of you felt like you could die.

“That's what I like to hear” Pennywise chortled with sadistic amusement.

Pyramid head was rough on you, completely focused on himself and made sure that you were taking him fully with each thrust. It was as if you were mush and you didn't think you could be overwhelmed so fast but you were, and if slenderman’s tendrils weren't holding you up, you'd surely collapse on the stage floor. The tentacles were kneading and groping your breast with a slick texture that was cold on your skin. He was moving with little mercy but even passing the hurt it felt good to you. You could feel him throbbing inside you, it almost felt like you had a lower heartbeat because of it. You wanted to use one of your hands to touch yourself up. It gets taken and occupies hisdick.

“Sluts worry about others first.” Ghostface spoke using your hand to stroke his cock.

You moan, feeling your eyes roll back when a new contender moves in front of you. You look up at them, it was Jason; your gentle giant that had done some help, loosening you up. You open your mouth for him, your tongue hanging out ready to take him. He pushed his thick length into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around him and started to suck him off. It was the mix of Pyramid head getting ready to fill you with his seed, sucking off Jason and jerking off Ghostface. It was a complete sensory overload and you don't know if you'll make it to the end of it all. It was a mix of muffled groans and your also muffled moans.

You feel the borderline hot cum filling you up and trying to push past his cock. He makes sure to pull out of you as slowly as he could as if he didn’t want to leave Pennywise the first to take his place and quickly while wiggling his fingers before coiling around his hips. His cock felt like he was shifting inside you. It has ridges that were scratching at your walls pushing cum deeper into your cunt. He was thrusted into you into you wildly; he was giggling wildly with each movement.

Slenderman comes up from behind you. A slimy tendril prodding your tight ring of muscle. He circled around the outside spreading slimy fluid before he pushed in the wriggling limb. As he pushed it deeper into your rectum. The circumference widened. It stretched your whole beyond what you believed it could. He was literally in your guys right now, but it felt good. You moaned around the cock in your mouth with it pushed and wiggled around you.

When he slipped out his tentacle you thought it was over but then he thrusted in two of the appendages into your anus. You yelped around Jason and small tears sprang in your eyes. Surprisingly though, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

Jason fills your mouth with his gooey essence, happily. Then after him cums Ghostface, coating your hand in its sticky substance. The domino effect causes you to have yet another orgasm and as you clench around Pennywise swells up a bit before filling you with his rainbow clown Jizz.

They leave you a cum dumped mess with slenderman’s appendages rocking in their pendulum pattern. You felt like you were going to pass out but your holes still had a guest to attend to. Wesker and Myers go for your mouth and cunt respect. Weaker pulls your hair back as he pushes his cock into your hole and Michael was basically throat fucking you.

The Creeper and Laughing Jack then made you stroke them off. You felt like you had been thoroughly passed around and anyone Who had you before was jacking off as you got used like a fleshlight. You have another climax and you were sure everything had gone dark for a few seconds but the bounce of that seemed to matter, to the men of the mattered.

“An Excellent whore to take all of us” Wesker let out a groan as he slammed his hips into you over and over. You felt like we're going to cum all over again. His words make you shiver a bit and you start to clench around him, he slaps your ass like a silent approach. Michael was holding your face with a tight grip as he would take slow strokes all the way out of your mouth before ramming back down your throat. It was causing gag reflects a bit as he ruts his hips into you.

The tentacles pumping in and out of you sped up, the tendrils rubbing against you and each other. It felt like ripples coming through them before warm fluid filled your anal cavity. The semen kept coming and coming it’s like it was almost never ending until finally he pulled the tentacles out leaving you back entrance gaping and puckering. The cum poured out like a water leak, dripping down your ass and legs. You glanced down to see the black viscous liquid creeping down your legs.

You felt like you may have choked to death if you went breathing through your nose. The Creeper was looking at you with a hungry gaze as he started to thrust into your hand. Michael started moving faster, taking shorter strokes between your lips before he let out a hushed breath of pleasure. You almost coughed up the amount of thick fluids that had filled your mouth at once, you managed, then he pulled away. Laughing Jack was tracing patterns into your skin as he let out stroke him at your decided pace. You hold his slender cock in your hand in a firm grip, he was already leaking cum before a strong spray hits you in the face.

You could hear some groans and muffled heavy breaths from the men surrounding you. Their hands stroked themselves with vigor. Seemingly all at the same time they blew their loads onto you, painting your bodies with an array of hot cum. All which coat your skin with different levels of thickness and temperatures. Some were stickier than others, some watery. Different colors and smell. They all were panting, you included when the spokeswoman came back with a towel and your promised wheelchair. You had no energy, barely any to get up and put your close back on.

Your friend was right, this was a life changing experience

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[rabbitblackx]

Hi! 💕 would you be able to do jaosna, brahms and michael reactions that the reader when they raise their hand or make some sudden movement, the reader thinks that they want to hit her?

Slashers make Reader flinch

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Brahms Heelshire

Michael Myers💖

Michael came home one Halloween night, hands drenched with blood. He was menacing as ever, standing there still in the dark

“Hi, Michael.” You called out quietly

The only reply you received was his heavy breathing from behind the mask, followed by the floor whining under his boots. He seemed a bit riled up from his killing spree, the faintest glint of delightful rage in his black eye

Michael was beginning to get too close. Just as you were to back into the wall, his fist came up to rest against your head. You immediately flinched, a small squeal of fear leaving your lips

Michael was not expecting you to flinch like that. It wasn’t like he was gonna hurt you. This made him mad. You cracked your eyes open and hesitatingly looked up at him in the dark. A look of almost betrayal twinkled in his eye before he turned his back

“Michael?”

He never thought something like that would bother him. You had been with Michael long enough. Did you still not trust him? After all the self restraint, all the control and gentleness he forced on himself. And you still acted like he was a monster

Michael walked away as calmly as he could. He didn’t want to be around you anymore, but he also wanted to prove his point… that he would never hurt you

Jason Voorhees💖

Jason came home in a bad mood. You didn’t know whether it was because someone got away, or that they were putting up a fight… he was just mad

Jason dumped his bloody machete by the door and brushed right past you, completely ignoring your presence. You turned to watch him storm towards your bedroom. He was probably gonna go to bed and lock you out. He had done that before

“Jason, are you okay?” You asked softly

Jason paused there by the door, and your heart stopped. He stood still for a moment, before turning and walking straight toward you. You watched on wide eyed for a moment, but then flinched back in fear when he got too close

“Please don’t hurt me, Jason. I’m sorry.” You squeaked from behind your hands

Jason’s broad shoulders suddenly slumped. That made him sad. You were scared he was gonna hurt you? Of course he wouldn’t

He watched helplessly as you cowered, before you fearfully peeked up at him. You flinched again as Jason slowly brought his hand up to touch your cheek. He let it linger there, fingers gently brushing against your hair

Before you could say another word, Jason slipped his hand away and turned his back. You brought your own up to touch the same spot as he stormed back out of your cabin

Brahms Heelshire💖

You got back from the village a little later than you told Brahms today. You knew you were gonna be in big rouble because of it

You shut the front doors as quietly as you could, but you knew he was aware of your presence. Just as you were planning what to tell him, you turned away from the doors to find him looming in the shadows

“Brahms,” you smiled nervously

Brahms did not reply. His breathing was heavy behind his mask and he slowly approached you. You held your own breath as he got real close, looming over you menacingly. You were about to apologise, but was startled when he raised his hand

You yelped, throwing yourself against the front doors and shielding your face. Brahms watched in shock. All he was trying to do was put his hand on your shoulder. It stung a little that you flinched away from him like that

You peeked up at Brahms standing before you, his hand still slightly raised as a sad look washed over his eyes. “Brahms, I’m sorry. I thought you were gonna hurt me.” You frowned

Brahms’ shoulders slumped, and he sadly shook his head. Tears pricked your eyes at his broken reaction, and you suddenly felt terrible. You apologised again, throwing your arms around him and resting your head on his chest

Brahms wrapped his own around you in a tight hug. He frowned under his mask as he nuzzled against your hair

[asumofwords]

Midpoint - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: The semester break came along quicker than you thought it would, and you decided to stay on campus for the break to get ahead in your studies. What will happen when you go head-to-head with a certain ill-tempered maths student in a war of pettiness?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Arguing, pettiness, name calling, low blows, tension, degradation, ripped stockings, finger fucking, rough fucking, fucking in public, p in v, creampie, cum eating.

Word Count: 8.7k

Notes: Hello my angels, Happy New Year, heres to all the filth that will continue to come from the cesspool that is my mind. Thank you all for your patience, I have been so excited to write for Michael, and so I hope you enjoy this as much as I have writing it !! heheh ;) <3

Part 2

There was a soft amber glow that cast over the library, the dark wood warming with the golden light that peaked through the windows, patches of wooden floors illuminated in some spots with coloured lights from stained glass windows.

For the most part, the library was empty bar three other students who had stayed behind for the break, getting ahead on their work for the next semester.

You were one of them, and with the sheer size of the library, you wouldn’t have known there were others inside if you had not seen them when walking down the endless isles of books in search for the ‘British Working Class Movements’ for your history course. 

It didn’t take long for you to find it, and by the time you settled into a secluded corner down the back, the sun had already begun to set. You flicked on one of the green and gold table lamps and began to read, periodically taking notes on a page as you went.

It wasn’t that you needed to study ahead, it simply gave you something to do whilst the break droned on, few students having stayed behind making it lonely, but a bit more bearable than making the long trip home.

You loved the library, the stained wood, smell of old books lining the walls, and the quiet of the place was a nice haven to get away from the usual hustle and bustle of college. Everyone always seemed to be in a rush to either their next class or their next party, and although you weren’t a loner per se, you didn’t always feel like being in the constant lights and sounds that came with socialising. And so the library was the one place, besides your dorm, where you could have a nice piece of solitude.

Settling over the page, you gained a steady rhythm. Read about one movement, then write anecdotes as you went, taking the time to pause, re-read, and really absorb the information as much as you could. It was fascinating, and you enjoyed learning as much as you did.

By the third hour of continuous reading and note taking, your hand began to cramp, and so you decided it was time for a short break. You stood up from the desk, stretching your arms above your head, a small sigh escaping your lips as your back cracked and muscles pulled. You twisted your upper body to each side, softly grunting as you felt your back click again and again, sighing loudly as a particular pop took away an ache that had settled between your shoulders. You continued on with your languid stretches, trying to get some of the stiffness out of your body from being hunched over the desk for so long. 

You wondered how much more time you should spend writing notes, or whether you could go back to your dorm and laze about on the bed. Luckily for you, you didn’t have a roommate, and were able to make the space feel much like your own. You didn’t have too much furniture, the room not allowing for it, just your essentials and a few trinkets here and there that you had collected. Your real pride and joy however, was a Peace Lily that you had saved from sure death. Now, it sat proudly on your study desk, growing dark green leaves and flowering its soft white flowers.

The idea of going back to your dorm seemed tempting, after all, you didn’t really have to be studying, and you had just recently bought the new Harry Potter book and wished to read some more of it, make a nice cup of tea, sink into your sheets and get lost into a fantasy world.

A soft jangling came from between one of the large book shelves, and soon a man peeked through. His icy blue eyes caught yours and you watched as he assessed you from where he stood, albeit awkwardly, gaze dragging up and down your body.

He was tall and lean, with sandy blonde hair that sat messily atop his head. He had a sharp aquiline nose, and lips that pulled up naturally in its corners.

You recognised him from somewhere, but where you couldn't be sure.

Perhaps he was in the same classes as you?

He continued to stare at you, shirt tucked into his pants, small carabiner attached with a USB dangling from a belt loop, his tongue pushed into his cheek.

“You right?” You asked, shifting on your feet, wondering if he needed something from you.

His lips pursed as he looked at you from down his nose, “Are you?”

You furrowed your brows, “Huh?” 

“You've been moaning in the back of the library like a tart.” 

You bristled, “I beg your pardon?”

Who the fuck-

“Some of us are trying to study.” His arms were stiff by his sides, and before you had the chance to reply, he spun on his heel, shoes squeaking loudly in the aisles as he marched away.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, feeling angry and also slightly embarrassed about the encounter.

Had you been making a lot of noise? 

You didn’t think so, especially since the library was essentially empty anyway. You had even chosen the furthest corner of the floor as well, tucked away behind rows of books and out of sight. 

You sat back down at the desk and tried to continue writing notes, but instead, you found yourself feeling far too self conscious, and wondered if you were even breathing too loudly. But before you got too self critical, you remembered that the library was practically empty, and you had specifically chosen a spot the furthest away from the other three students.

If your stretching and little sighs had disturbed him, he was either hanging around your area, or had the hearing of a bat. 

So after about an hours more of study attempts and a half a page more of notes, you decided to call it a night, packing away your belongings before taking the book with you, not bothering to check it out. 

As soon as you got back to your dorm, you headed straight to bed, not feeling in the mood to make a cup of tea or even open your new book, no longer looking forward to enjoying yourself and settling in. Instead you laid on your back staring at the ceiling, stewing about how the man in the library had spoken to you, and vowing that if you saw him again, you'd give him a piece of your mind. 

And by your luck, you did see him again. 

The very next day.

You got to the library around midday, deciding that you weren’t going to do a late night of studying, deciding to have a relaxing night in to pamper yourself, maybe even watch a movie in the common rooms if the tv free, or do as you had intended the night before; a cup of tea and your book, and maybe even some ‘me’ time.

The library, despite all its windows and the suns rays peeping through, was cold, and as soon as you stepped foot into it a chill ran over you. You walked through the endless rows of books, not seeing a soul as you climbed the stairs to the second floor, dust settled into the crooks and corners of the staircases and bannisters, the smell almost overwhelming, until finally, you saw him. 

He was sat in the centre of the room at one of the large study desks, multiple books opened around him as he furiously wrote down notes and equations. His head didn’t lift at the sound of your footsteps, too busy in his own little world studying for God knows what, so much so, that it was a wonder that you had even managed to disturb him the day prior, which now only seemed to fuel your anger.

You were never one to back down.

You walked straight to him, toes almost kicking the leg of the table as you looked down at his neat writing, his hand flying across the page in rapid succession, no calculator in sight despite the lengthiness of the equations.

It was impressive, you noted begrudgingly, the way he worked so swiftly, and just was you were about to gain his attention, he spoke to you, hand not once slowing as he worked. 

“What do you want?” 

It wasn’t rude, just as it wasn’t polite. If anything, it was abrasive, like the rough cobblestones outside, and not once did he look up at you.

It caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened and shut as you tried to think of something to say.

Was it really worth being hot headed and saying something the day after?

Would he even remember?

Or would you be embarrassing yourself further?

Ultimately you gave up, deciding that there was no point to saying anything anymore, sighing in resignation as you walked around the length of the table continuing to yours. 

You got about three steps away before he spoke again.

“Remember that you’re in the library this time.”

You spun, staring daggers into the back of his head, hand gripping the strap of your bag, “What the fuck is your problem?” Your chest heaved in anger, waiting for him to turn around or answer you, but he didn’t.

The sandy haired man continued his endless equations, leaving you standing behind him as though you had spoken to a ghost. It was maddening, the rush of your blood loud in your ears drowning out the steady scratch of his pencil.

How dare he?

He was just like all the others, like every other man on campus who felt they could speak however they like at any woman as though you were beneath them. 

You stood there for what felt like minutes, but was mere seconds.

Realising that you weren’t to get an answer from him, you continued on your way to your secluded little table, stomping through the aisles, your footsteps echoing loudly in the space on the wooden floor.

When you got to the table, you all but threw your bag down, the heavy textbook slamming onto the wooden surface, making a large bang.

Never in your life had you been so agitated, ripping the chair away from the desk, letting the legs scrape on the mahogany floor. 

One after the other, you yanked your books out of your bag, your notebook and pens, throwing them onto the table without a care. You could feel the heat of your anger creeping up your neck and into your face, and despite your attempts to calm yourself by studying, you ended up just re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not once absorbing it. 

By the time you decided to give up, the sun had begun to set, and so you hastily scrambled to shove your things back into your bag, not even bothering to tuck your chair in softly, throwing it against the desk and storming out the way you came.

He was still in his regular spot when you stalked past him, his head turned down as he read through his notes, multiple empty chocolate wrappersw spread across the table. 

“Fucking asshole.” You muttered as you walked past him, not bothering to spare him a second glance as you huffed and stormed away, hoping to find some peace in your dorm. 

When you got to your dorm, you were so hungry that you began to feel sick. Realising that in your anger you had forgotten to eat, you wandered down to the pub not far from campus and got a cheap little meal, eating quietly in the corner, a telly playing a soccer game on the screen in the back. 

There weren't many patrons that night, but you could hear the pool table being used in the distance, the loud clacking of the balls being sunk, drowning out the soft sound of the telly. The pub stunk of stale beer and cigarettes, ring stains on all the wooden surfaces from sweating glasses.

It was still early when you finished, and so you made the decision to check out the commons and see if a tv was free.

The night air was cold as you walked back to your dorm, your teeth chattering in your skull as you sped walked, wrapping your arms around yourself to get back into the warmth of the old building. Lights illuminated the old stone walls in a yellow light, casting shadows on the cobblestones and bare trees around you.

It would have been spooky if you weren’t used to it by now, and could understand how first years would become spooked at night alone, walking through the courtyards.

As you made your way towards the common room in your building, you couldn’t help but think about the man in the library. His sandy hair, blue eyes, sharp features and sharper mouth. Who needed a heater when you had this man to fire you up? You could almost hear his grating tone as he mocked you, his glasses shining in the library as he looked down his nose at you.

He made you feel small, unwanted. But you had worked hard to get into Oxford, and you, whether he liked it or not, had earned your place. 

It wasn’t unlike the men you already knew in STEM to be somewhat assholes, especially towards women or any degrees they deemed ‘unfit’ or ‘unworthy’. You had heard many scoffs and sneers at the Arts students, or English Literature kids, especially if it was women, from the STEM boys who seemed to hoard together like a bunch of flies. Or better yet, like a Rat King, unable to break the connection between each other despite how much they fought it.

It was, to follow the pun, a rat race.

The hall was dark as you walked to the commons, but from the window of the door, you saw the tale tell sign of the telly being on. You wondered momentarily if it was anyone you knew that had stayed back, perhaps one of the girls.

Maybe you could settle down with them and watch whatever mind melting soap opera was on, and lull yourself into a stupor. 

The prospect of talking to someone almost dissolved your sour mood, and by the time you opened the door, peering into the flickering light illuminated room, a small smile had begun to pull at your lips.

But that smile was short lived as your eyes met a pair of pale blue ones.

You watched as his lips pulled down in recognition of you, his head turning to look back at the telly. Your heart began to race in your chest again, the door clicking shut behind you, the soft sound of Doctor Who’s theme song filling the room, the screen reflecting off of his rectangular lenses. 

It didn’t help that the small drinks you had at the pub seemed to ignite your previous disdain for the man, as well as dampening your, for a lack of a better word, cognition.

In that moment, you were at a loss of what to do. You wanted to watch tv, but the idea of being anywhere near him infuriated you. Yet, at the same time, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by leaving, indicating to him that you had given up, and that he had won.

“You going to stand there all night?” He teased cruelly, eyes not once turning back to you, locked on David Tenant as he ran through an abandoned warehouse.

You bristled, teeth grinding down against each other as you stormed past him, “Fuck you.” You dropped down onto the cushion on the other end of the couch. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see his lips purse slightly, obviously hearing you.

No matter how much you tried, you could not get comfortable on the couch, and it wasn’t because the couch had a natural groove from the many people who sat in it, or the obvious stains on the covers and arms, some recognisable, others dubious, nor the permeating cigarette smell that emanated from deep within the foam, but rather because he sat all too comfortable beside you, watching a show you wished you could watch alone.

You shifted against the arm again for the umpteenth, huffing softly in the room. Your ass had fallen asleep because you sat ramrod straight and refused to relax, tucking your legs beneath you not leaning back. No matter what you did, you could not settle, body gearing up for a fight.

When you shifted again, it seemed to pull his attention away from David Tenants doctor.

“You gonna keep huffing in the corner like a baby?”

Your already fragile thread of patience snapped.

“What the fuck is your problem? Have I done something to you? I don’t even know who you are.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him. The man sneered, leaning towards you on the couch, “My problem is vapid little cunts like you. Getting by on mummy and daddy’s money whilst the rest of us have to work to stay here. You just party and fuck each other like rats.” His cold eyes razed up and down your body, watching as your face morphed from anger to offence, and then, to rage.

You shot up from your seat, moving to stand over him as he looked up at you, face barely containing his hatred. 

“I don’t have ‘mummy’s and daddy’s money’, I’m here because I worked hard to be here.” You hissed, hands clenched into fists at your sides, “You know nothing about me.” 

“I know you’re friends with Felix Catton and every other vapid, useless cunt that hangs off of his every breath.” His voice lowered, hatred simmering behind his light illuminated glasses.

Your brows furrowed, “Felix and I have a class together. Assigned seating. We walk there together. If-” You straightened, looking down at him before it hit you.

A laugh of disbelief flew from your lips, and soon enough the cocksure anger melted away from his sharp features, replaced by confusion.

“Wow.” You huffed, a bitter laugh filling the air, “You’re jealous.” His eyes narrowed on you, “You’re jealous of Felix.” You watched as his mouth snapped open, “Maybe if you weren’t so-“

“-I’m not fucking jealous of those nobodies.”

Snorting, you shook your head, “Nobodies… Yet people know their name. I don’t even know who you are.”

You waited for him to give you his name, to finally tell you who this infuriating man was, the credits of Doctor Who playing in the background as you stared at each other. Your chest heaved, but all you felt looking down at him was irritation.

“Your anger is misdirected." You growled, "I thought you would be smarter than that.”

The man's jaw ticked, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

“I don’t.”

You turned away, suddenly drained from the whole interaction. You didn’t bother to turn back and look at him, or even say another word. You wanted to go to bed, no, needed to go to bed and get away from the man on the couch before you tore your hair out.

As you opened the common room door, his voice called out to you.

“Y/n L/n.” 

The way he said your name sent goosebumps rising on your skin, each syllable pronounced slowly, as though he was savouring your name on the tip of his tongue. Your hand paused on the door as you pushed it open, looking back at him. 

“And who are you?”

Before he could answer, you left, slamming the door shut behind you. You marched straight back to your room, hands in such tight fists that your nails left half crescent moons in the flesh of your palms.

You lay awake most of the evening staring at the ceiling with the interaction on your mind.

He knew you by name, even thought you were friends with Felix, and whilst you weren’t not friendly with him, you wouldn’t say you were closely acquainted. You drank at the same parties sometimes or saw him down at the pub, but the only one-on-one time you had with him was in class. 

Whoever this man was, and whoever he thought you were, he was wrong. And now he was going to regret it.

You knew he would be there, in fact you betted on it, getting up extra early to go to the library to do the one thing you planned on doing that day.

Piss him off.

If there was one thing that men hate the most in the world, it was not being in control, and that was doubled if it was with a woman.

You sat at the table he always did, spreading your textbooks and papers, pens, notes, snacks, water bottle, and even IPod Nano on its surface. You had brought extra things with you today in your bag to spread across the table, some things not even needed to study, but used to take up more space and soil his little territory.

The sun had barely even risen by the time you laid it all out, but you knew it would all be worth it.

And it was, because not even fifteen minutes later, he arrived to the sight of you at his desk, humming as you looked at your notes.

His feet stopped not too far from your (his) table, watching as you met his gaze, devoid of emotion. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling, watching as he clenched his teeth in irritation.

He was almost shaking with anger.

Got you.

You kept the image of innocence, looking back down at your notes as you tapped your pen against the tables surface loudly. You could see his fists clenching in your periphery at his side, his pale green button up shirt with long beige pants shifting side to side as he stood angrily watching you.

“What are you doing?” The blonde’s voice cut through the quiet of the library, irritation evident in his tone.

You didn’t bother to look up, pen still clicking rhythmically against the table, “Hm?”

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Placing the pen on your page delicately, you looked up, “Pardon?”

The mans cheeks flushed an angry red as he stared down at you, lips pulling into a tight line, “Whatever you think-“

“-I’m sorry,” You interrupted him, leaning forward to look up into his eyes sweetly, “Do I know you?”

The man leant forward and sneered, “Gavey.”

“Gavey?” You titled your head, biting your lip softly in thought.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Yes.” He grit through his teeth, looking down at your spread notes and gear.

Then it came to you.

“Gavey! Michael Gavey!” You beamed up at him, leaning slightly forward on the desk.

Now you knew why he was so familiar.

“You’re the maths genius.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Anyone who had heard about Michael Gavey knew about his stellar intellect when it came to maths, and unfortunately for him, they also knew about his little antisocial outbursts, “You yelled at Oliver on O week.”

You watched with delight as the anger fell momentarily from his face, and embarrassment replaced it. You leant further forward, putting both elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Is it true then? You can do any sum just in your head?”

If it was true, he needed to be studied by a team of scientists.

And maybe a behavioural therapist.

Michael stood taller, proud to have been recognised for this part of him as he watched you bat your eyelashes at him. His shoulders rolled back, eyes glimmering with determination behind his glasses.

Men were so easy.

You just stroke their ego a little and their guard comes down immediately.

“Ask me.” His voice was soft, confident, waiting on bated breath to show off his born skill.

You smiled, “Alright. Seven-hundred-and-eighty-nine multiplied by six-hundred-and-fifty-four.”

Without missing a beat, “Five-hundred-and-sixteen-thousand-and-six.”

“Divided by twelve.”

“Forty-three-thousand point five.”

“Times nine.”

“Three-hundred-and-eighty-seven-thousand-and-four point five.”

You leant back in your chair watching him. It was impressive, and if he wasn’t such a prick, you would have openly praised him. But you didn’t have it in you in that moment to give him anything but a lengthy stare, using the time to get a good look at his face without the sneer.

He was handsome, a long face framed nicely by his ‘devil may care’ hair. You wondered if he even bothered to brush it in the morning. The longer you looked at him the more you could see how his sharp features and soft lips would in fact get him the attention he so desperately craved, if only he wasn’t as insufferable as he was. In fact, the more you thought about it, if things had been different, perhaps you would have pursued him, maybe even asked him out for a drink.

Instead, he had made an enemy for himself, and being petty at this point was a hobby for you that you took great time and pleasure in doing, especially if it was for assholes who made the first move unwarranted. 

“Hm.” You tapped your pen against the table, “How do I know it’s correct and you're not just making it up?”

This seemed to anger Gavey.

“I’m not making it up. I do the sums,” He narrowed his eyes, “In my head.”

“I don’t have a calculator to confirm this. For all I know, you could be lying.”

The anger was back, “I’m not lying. I’m never wrong.”

“Sure.”

“I’m a genius.”

“Uh huh.”

Then came the vitriol, his shoulders tensed in rage, “What would you know anything about maths? You’re a History and Philosophy major.” Michael scoffed, seeming to think that his disdain for your degree would upset you in the slightest.

You sighed loudly, pulling the earphones from your Ipod to begin putting them in your ears. You looked at him pointedly, putting a sad little smile onto your lips. 

Show time.

“It’s a shame, you know.” You said sadly.

“What?” Michael responded, over-eagerly.

The earphones sat in your ears and you scrolled down to a song you wanted, letting the music begin to play loudly just to piss him off, the noise turned up high enough for him to hear the lyrics. You didn't show it, but it was too loud, and most certainly hurt your ears, yet it was worth it to see his nose scrunch up.

“That you’re a snob.” Your voice rose over the music in your ears, unable to hear anything but the loud bass line that bounced in your head, “You’re actually cute when you’re not sneering at me.” You let your eyes drop back to your page, ignoring his presence as you strummed the pen loudly against the wood of the desk, unable to hear if he responded, but also not bothered to hear him. You had ended the conversation just the way you wanted.

And it would drive him nuts.

What you hadn’t seen was his mouth opening and shutting multiple times as a blush spread across his cheeks. He stood idly by, utterly unable to produce a single word or sound bar clearing his throat. Michael disappeared from your periphery as he left to sit at the table at the end, dropping into his seat to begin his studies.

But it proved to be fruitless, because as he attempted to settle into the endless stream of equations, all he could hear behind him was the tinny sound of your music blasting from your earphones and the steady grating tap of your pen.

He tried, in vein, for over an hour to focus, before giving up and storming out of the library. It was only then when you lifted your head, smiling at his retreating figure in triumph. 

I win.

Not a word had been written on your page, and not a thing had been absorbed in your head. You lowered the volume of your music, a ringing settling into your ears, before packing up your things to go back to your dorm, deciding that a job well done was deserving of some respite, and in your good mood you would actually read your book.

You spent the rest of your day and better part of your evening reading, lounging, and snacking on some chips as you snuggled into your sheets. 

Being the creature of habit that you were, you ended your triumphant day going to the pub to have another cheap meal and a drink or two, spending a considerable amount of the evening chatting up another student who had also stayed behind during the break.

He was cute, and funny, and although he hinted more than once that he would like to continue your evening back in either one of your dorms, you didn’t have the energy to entertain a potentially dull night of barely there pleasure. 

He smiled too wide and had too much confidence to really know what he was doing, and you felt immediately that he would be the type to get his and leave you high and dry. So you parted, promising emptily to get another pint together soon enough, though you knew it wasn’t your stellar verbal company that he wanted.

Sinking into bed that evening was an easy and pleasurable experience. You crawled into your sheets, smile on your face and victory on your tongue. Your tit-for-tat was successful, and now you could finally just focus on your work, and not the sandy haired Michael Gavey who seemed to invade your every thought. 

-

The sun trickled through the curtains by your bed, a warm stream of light hitting your face. You woke with a stretch, body slowly waking up with the day.

You didn’t have much planned after yesterdays success, and didn’t have a want to do much at all, but there was only so much lounging in bed one could do over the many weeks of break, so you decided to go back to the library, at least for an hour to make up for yesterdays losses (despite the personal win). 

You looked around your room and settled on a skirt and some tights with a turtle neck sweater, unable to find anything else as a pile of dirty clothes had slowly accumulated in the corner. You made a note to yourself to take it to the laundromat later with some coins and your book. 

The walk to the library was the same monotonous one as it always was. The same stone walls, the same dark wooden detailing and floor, the occasional beautiful stained glass window, and the ever strange silence of an empty college. There was a light layer of frost on the grass outside, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it would snow. The trees were bare except for a handful of orange and brown leaves, hanging on for dear life, or perhaps, holding on with dead fingers.

Rigor mortus of the petiole.

The steps creaked beneath your feet as you made your way up to your usual spot, the library cold as it always was, causing you to wish you had brought a warmer jacket with you. When you got to the landing, you expected to see him, sandy hair, glasses slipping down his sharp nose, hunched over the same textbook as he wrote out his equations with dizzying speed, but the tables were empty, and the aisles were barren, and all that was in the library was you.

Briefly you wondered for a moment if something has happened to him. Had he gotten sick? Too ill to crawl out of bed, laying in his sheets with a fever and no one to comfort him?

You frowned at the thought. 

Why did you care?

His ego was likely too bruised to show his face, and was hidden in another alcove or other smaller library somewhere else, or perhaps even in his room.

Maybe he even had friends, and decided to spend the day with them, likely another student in STEM. 

You could have sworn you saw him and Oliver Quick in the pub one night together.

You walked past his empty table and continued down the end to where your little nook was, grazing your fingers along the spines of the books as you went. Each ridge another spine, each spine another thousand upon thousand of words that had been read, dissected, and rewritten by many a student. You liked to think about how many hands had touched the pages, how many eyes had skimmed the words, how many bags, beds, tables, couches, cars or trains they had been in over the years, and how many times you had read them, or held them in the same spot.

You emerged from the isles to your nook.

It was not what you had expected that morning.

Certainly not what you had expected any morning come to think of it, but even so, your steps halted and your heart began to quicken, anger slowing creeping up your neck, heating your face.

He was sat at your table.

Your table.

His glasses had slid down almost to the tip of his nose, a long slender finger daintily pushing them back up to the bridge, lips pouted in their natural pout as his hand flew about his notes, writing equation after equation in a speed that would intimidate even Einstein. Michaels hair was disheveled, as though he had run his hand through it multiple times, as he contemplated the pros and cons of sitting there. 

He must have landed on the pros.

“What are you doing.” You bit out, an irritating sense of dejavu seeping into your bones.

Michael didn’t look up at you, your feet almost pushing through the floor, anger rooting you in place.

“Hm?” Came his noncommittal reply.

It set you off.

“You’re in my seat.” You hissed, swiftly stepping towards him.

The light from the window beside him cast shadows across half his face as he looked up at you, he sucked his teeth loudly, “Your seat?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” His head dipped back down to his notes, his blue eyes looking up at you from under his lashes as his hand continued to write, “This is a public library. It’s a public seat.”

You stormed forward dumping your bag atop his hand, his pencil scraping across his notes on the paper, “You know exactly what I mean.”

His jaw ticked, steely blue eyes flicking to where you dumped your heavy bag atop his notes and own text book.

“I’m sorry, I’m not tutoring on break.” His tone all too demeaning as he over pronounced each word.

Your hands slammed down onto the desk as you leant forward towards his face, “I don’t need a tutor and you know it, you miserable little cunt.” Anger boiled inside of you, building and building, ready to burst. 

Michael bristled, “Who the f-“

“-Oh, fuck you, Michael. You’re a miserable piece of shit, thinking you’re above everybody else, sneering at anyone who dares to be happy. I’ve seen you, always sulking about in the shadows because no one can stand to be around you.”

The silence was almost deafening.

Oh God.

That was a low blow.

You had taken it too far.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very guilty, “Michael,” You started, “That was-“

A pale hand lifted in front of your face, the man standing almost near silently in front of you. He went from below you, to towering above in a split second, his sheer size double your own. He stared down his sharp nose at you with a look of contempt, the rage behind his eyes flickering with barely held restraint.

“Do you want to know what I think?” His voice was low, lower than you had ever heard it go, emotion almost drained entirely from it except an icy edge which sent the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

You stayed silent, watching as he stepped away from the desk, chair scraping on the wood to come towards you slowly, your heart beating like a drum behind your ribs.

Though you could step back, his eyes kept you glued to where you were, head craned up to look at him as he came closer, the tension in his jaw growing with every passing second.

It was unnerving, and everything within told you to run, but something made you stay.

Call it guilt.

Or intrigue.

His hand dropped to his side, slow, calculated steps coming closer, each one as silent as the next as his cheek twitched whilst looking you over.

“I think,” He began, a foot away from you, voice low, “That you’re just desperate enough to accept the scraps that they give you, because you fear if you don’t,” Another step, taking him toe-to-toe with you, “That you’ll be a nobody like me.”

Your mouth became dry, lips slightly parted as a tinge of hurt spread through your chest.

You shook your head faintly, “I don’t think you’re a nobody.”

A brow lifted, “You called me a nobody.”

“I was wrong.”

“Wrong because it was hurtful? Or wrong because you have more in common with me than you do with them.”

You shook your head, “Why is it always about them?”

“It is always,” He sneered, “About them. I have watched you take what little you can get from them like a beggar. Talking to Felix in the hallways, doing his homework for him, smiling at him like a dolt.”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve seen you.” His shoe bumped against yours as he leant forward, “You’re nothing to them. How long was it before they even learnt your name?”

“Stop it.” You whispered, feeling tears prickle in your eyes.

Michaels head tilted, “Why? It’s the truth.”

“It’s not.”

The sandy haired man clicked his tongue at you, head tilting, “You and I both know that’s not the truth, is it? What did Farleigh call you again?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek, leaving a wet track in its path. Your lip wobbled as you tried to keep your composure.

You didn’t know how he knew.

You didn’t know how he could have known what Farleigh had said to you that night, drinking in the pub together.

You hadn’t even meant to join them, but their table grew bigger and bigger until it swallowed your own and soon enough they were buying you shots. It was never a regular thing, you were never quite in the circle, but not quite out of it either. More-so lingering in the nothingness of neither here nor there. 

Michael looked at you pityingly, not in a way where he held empathy for you because of it, but in a way where he pitied you for being the way you were. It was demeaning. Cold. 

Detached.

“Parvenu.” His lips pronounced each syllable slowly, darkly, and it made you ache.

Another tear fell as you took a sharp intake of breath, sniffling roughly. 

Shame built inside of you. 

It was humiliating to relive that moment, let alone with Michael. And now that you knew he had witnessed or heard it, you wondered who else may have been there to hear Farleigh’s degrading comment and snort of a laugh followed. The way he would raise his brows at you the rest of the night as if to say ‘See? You don’t belong here, and we can all see it’, ‘We let you here because we can’.

“I don’t understand-“

Michael interrupted you, "-You let them walk all over you, and for what? Parties and accolades?” The corners of his lips turned downwards, “They don’t even respect you. Do they know that you’ve stayed behind on break alone? Do you think they’ll think of you in their mansions? Do you think Felix would ever-“

“-You talk about them as if they’re irredeemable, but they’ve been far nicer to me than you have.” Another tear fell, and your stomach tied itself in knots. 

The anger seemed to simmer in his eyes, “They don’t deserve you.”

Your brows pulled down in confusion, “What?”

“You let them use you, chasing after their fleeting affections. It’s pathetic.”

Anger began to simmer inside of you, “Pathetic? You know what’s pathetic?” You leaned up on your toes, “The fact that you have so clearly been watching me, and everything that I do, and not once have you tried to be my friend. Do you know what’s pathetic?” Your voice began to rise, heat inside of you rising with it, “Your anger and hatred of them clearly stems from jealously and embarrassment because they would never talk to-“

Your eyes widened in shock, his lips crashing against yours as he yanked you forward, hand at the back of your head pulling you in tightly. You were so in shock, you didn’t know what to do, standing stiffly in his arms as the other circled your waist and pulled you against him. 

It only took a second for your brain to come to with what was happening, your eyes sliding shut as you kissed him back roughly, all teeth and vitriol as you bit the soft flesh of his lips roughly. He hissed, pulling you closer, your feet stumbling against his as he backed you towards the wall of books beside the desk. 

Your spine hit the shelf roughly as he shoved you back, both of you panting before you grabbed his shirt angrily, yanking him back towards you. You were so furious, so almost feral that you needed this more than you would have thought.

There was something about him, something about him that made you want to pull your hair out and also sit on his face to silence him. 

His kisses weren’t skilled, but they were filled with passion as his teeth clashed against yours, a fight for dominance ensuing as you let a hand slide up into his hair and pull. A grunt came from deep within his chest as you yanked at the roots cruelly, hoping it would hurt him. Heat built in your gut rapidly, the need for him growing stronger with each passing second. 

The hand on your waist slid down further, pulling up your skirt as his fingers pressed against your clothed core. You gasped into his mouth, hips thrusting forward from the pressure. With the other hand disappearing from the back of your head, it met the other between your legs, hooking into the gusset of your tights before you heard a loud rip, cold air immediately hitting your core. 

You gasped loudly, Michael taking advantage as he slid his tongue into your mouth, flicking it upwards against the back of your teeth. He tasted faintly like chocolate, and it was a taste that you didn’t mind at all. His fingers immediately sought out your centre, sliding impatiently between your folds to gather the wetness from your entrance. 

His movements were sloppy, yet focused, drawing it up to your clit as he rubbed fierce circles into it that bordered on painful. You nipped his bottom lip harshly again, yanking his head back and away from you to look at his face as two long digits circled your entrance. 

The pupils of his eyes were enlarged, almost swallowing the blue of his iris whole. His cheeks were flushed a dusty pink, and lips a deep red after your bites. The glasses upon his face were slightly skewed and lightly fogged, the hair atop his head sticking up in different directions from your rough handling. You didn’t even get to observe him for longer before he roughly shoved the two fingers inside.

“Fuck.” You hissed, back arching towards him, shoulders roughly pushing into the bookshelf.

A mean smirk pulled on his lips as he crooked his fingers against the front of your walls, quickly thrusting his hand in and out with dizzying speed. Your breath caught in your throat, brows pulled down as you looked at him, low whine falling from your lips.

“So wet already.” Michael teased, thumb lightly brushing your pearl, a spark of intense pleasure shooting up you. 

You pulled his head back towards you, moaning into his mouth as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, the sound of your arousal loud in the both of your ears. Michael pulled up one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, the cold metal of his carabiner pressing sharply into your inner thigh. Pleasure began to wind tightly in your gut, his long fingers reaching parts of you, your own couldn’t. 

Panting against his mouth, your hand flew behind you to grip one of the wooden shelves, elbow bumping against the spines of the books.

His pace never once faltered, all those hours of quick equations all day boosting his hand strength and stamina. You were surprised that he even knew what he was doing, but the questions floated aimlessly in the back of your mind, not quite sticking.

Your nails dug into the wood of the shelf, hand falling from his hair to his shoulder as your head fell backwards against the shelf, your peak barreling towards you.

“S’close. Please.” You whined, rolling your hips into his hand.

A mean laugh broke your peace, his fingers pulling out of you sharply, preventing you from reaching your release. Your eyes flew open, brows furrowed in frustration as you looked at him, smug smirk on his lips as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on the arousal soaked digits. 

You moaned weakly looking at him as he did it, hips rolling towards him in an attempt to get him to touch you again. Michael lips pouted at you as he pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop.

“Touch me.” You breathed, pulling him towards you with your leg, the zipper of his cargo pants pressing against you sharply. You sighed, rubbing your centre against his pants, a wet patch no doubt beginning to stain the front of them. 

“So desperate.” He cooed at you, your core clenching at his words as your eyes fluttered.

The hand that had been inside of you quickly made its way to the front of his pants, the other joining as he hastily undid his belt, not pulling it through the loops, followed by his button and zipper. Michael hastily reached into his pants and pulled out his hardened length, the tip pink and weeping, veins crawling up the sides.

You swallowed thickly as you looked down. 

Oh shit. 

Michael was very well endowed.

You didn’t know what shocked you more, the fact that he had such a sizeable cock, or how he thrust it up into you without warning. The stretch was bordering painful and you cried out loudly, Michaels hand slapping across your mouth to stifle the sound. 

“Quiet.” He hissed, pushing in to the hilt, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix. Your eyes screwed shut as you whined into his palm, your walls struggling to accommodate him as he slowly pulled out, each vein and ridge catching on your inner walls deliciously.

The slow heat inside of you began to build once more. 

Michael thrust into you sharply, your head banging against the back of the shelves as he kept his hand against your mouth, the other holding your hip against him. He set a brutal pace, fucking into your slick walls without abandon as he chased his own pleasure, punching the air out of your chest. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, forehead pressing against your own as he looked down to where you were joined, the leg you stood on stretched on your tippy toe to meet his height as he fucked you, “Your cunt is fucking tight.” 

“Mmm.” You moaned, eyes slipping shut as the coil within your gut began to wind rapidly, each brutal thrust stretching you wide against him with painful pleasure. 

“You gonna cum?” He panted, his eyes shutting behind his glasses that slid down his nose, “Can feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck.”

You nodded desperately beneath his hand, eyes opening to meet his steely gaze as he pulled his head back to watch you, the book shelf creaking as he fucked you against it.

You were so close, so fucking close. 

“Go on.” He commanded, “Cum on my cock like a little slut.”

Your core clenched around him, blinding white pleasure coursing through you as you came, his hand falling from your mouth as you moaned loudly, the noise echoing in the library.

“Shit, fuck. I’m gonna-“ Michael’s thrusts stuttered as a long moan burst from his lips, the warmth of his cum filling you.

You whined, hands gripping his hair as you crashed your lips against his, kissing him lazily as you both panted, his cock throbbing inside of you as your walls squeezed every last drop from him. 

Michael pushed as deep as he could go, the warmth of his cum beginning to leak around the base and down your thighs as you pulsed around him. Your mind was blank, fuzzy warmth spreading through your limbs in a soporific manner. He broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at you, glasses slightly foggy.

You searched his eyes and his face before a smile cracked on your lips. Michael mirrored it with a lopsided grin, huffing as he breathed out deeply.

Feeling a burst of confidence, you let a hand brush between your legs, swiping some of his cum that had dripped onto your thigh up to your mouth. You licked it off your finger slowly, opening your mouth to let him see the mess on your tongue before swallowing.

Michael’s adams apple bobbed, his cock twitching inside of you, “Fucking hell.”

You huffed another laugh, leaning forward to kiss him again, sliding your tongue into his mouth so he could taste himself as well as you on his tongue. He hummed loudly, dropping your leg to cradle your head in his hands. 

When you broke away once more, you couldn’t help but notice the glaringly obvious. 

Michael Gavey just fucked you in the library.

His tongue wet his lips as he looked at you, “Was that good?” A beat, “For you?”

“Yeah.” You breathed, “You?”

“Yeah.”

Silence began to stretch between the two of you before you shifted your hips, Gavey took the hint and slowly slid from your walls, causing you to whimper from the overstimulation. He tucked himself into his pants as you righted yourself, looking down at the gaping hole in the gusset of your tights.

“Well this will be an interesting walk home.” You mused, a hum of a laugh tickling the back of your throat.

Michael snorted, “Made quite the mess.”

“You did.”

Michael smirked, “It wasn’t all me now. I can’t take all the blame.”

You let your skirt drop, smoothing it down as you stepped away from the bookcase, looking back up at him.

“I suppose not. There was effort on both ends here.”

“There was.”

You nibbled at your lip, the unspoken words just at the tip of your tongue, “Michael-“

“-27. We’re in the same block.” His eyes searched yours.

Room 27? Why-

“Did you want to get a drink?” Michael blurted, shifting on his feet awkwardly as though you hadn't just fought and angrily fucked against a bookshelf. 

You looked at him closely. There was no sign of insincerity in his eyes.

He was offering an olive branch. 

You let a smile wash over your face, enjoying how his own came to match it.

“Sure."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[zweiginator]

enemies to lovers with patrick is cool….BUT ENEMIES TO LOVERS WITH ART

like that man is a hater when he doesn’t like someone. i bet its so so intense

yup. and it's just one of those situations where neither of you remember why you hate each other so much. it's just a fact of life. the sky is blue. ice cream is sweet. and you and art donaldson fucking hate each other.

you met in middle school; you had just moved to town and started on the tennis team. art was good, great even. but you were fresh meat, and you were pretty and you got all the attention that year.

and then came high school, and even though you and art obviously never formally competed in tennis, you were always doing so subconsciously. you avoided each other at team dinners, never spoke at parties and even slapped him across the face hard enough to get you suspended for a week after he said you only made varsity after another girl moved away to maryland.

neither of you could even enjoy your full-ride sports scholarships to stanford, once you figured out the other would be joining you. four more fucking years.

you and art feigned the biggest smiles you could muster for the local newspaper in your stanford tennis hats, and scrubbed your arms raw afterwards, disgusted that you had to touch each other.

but stanford was big. and since he was obviously on the boys' team and you the girls, you didn't see each other as often as before. your friends on the tennis team mingled with him, and hung on his arm during formal events. you went on a few dates with one of the boys on the team, although there was never a spark.

one day at a team dinner, high school and hometowns came up. and everyone was confused that you both were from the same small town.

"you grew up together?" your teammate asked.

"yep." art raised his eyebrows, unamused.

"i've never seen either of you speak a word to each other."

"don't need to." you said.

another teammate, michael, spoke up. "something happen?" always nosey.

"he's a raging piece of shit." you moved your rice around your plate, plastering a fake smile on your face.

"and you're a bad fucking tennis player." he would never call you a name.

"so is that why we are on the same team?" you got up. "excuse me. i just became a little nauseated."

art stood up too. "yeah, me too."

you both went your separate ways to the bathroom, heated. the way he knew exactly how to crawl under your skin and rub and rub at the same sore spot until it drove you crazy made your cheeks red and your knuckles white.

you had a tennis party that night, after dinner. a mandatory tennis party--your coach had a roster and everything.

when you showed up, art was wearing a tux with a maroon tie. you wore a purple gown, silky with a deep neckline.

art turned away from you, swirling his glass of champagne.

it started with your eye roll. the whole night chasing each other like cat and mouse. it was fun, making digs at his stupid jokes, embarrassing him in front of girls he was flirting with.

art talked over you all night and scoffed at everything you said; played devil's advocate.

when he went out to smoke at 10:30, you followed him.

"leave me alone!" art turned away from you, shielding his cigarette to light it.

you don't know why you were being such a bitch. you tore it from his mouth and smashed it with your heel, and art called you out for it.

"why are you being a fucking bitch?" he snapped.

"excuse me?"

"yeah i called you a bitch because i don't know what else to call this pathetic, obsessive behavior."

"obsessive?" you stepped closer to him. "nobody is fucking obsessed with you."

art grabbed you by the chin. "lose the fucking attitude."

you retaliated, grabbing his wrist. "you started this."

"oh god," art scoffed. "yeah, sure I started it. you followed me out here."

your heart was beating fast. maybe for the past fourteen years you had been blind to him and he to you. because right now art looked different. his once crooked teeth were straight, spotted skin smooth and peppered with stubble. art noticed your pink lip gloss, the low cut of your dress, how it hugged your figure.

you grabbed his tie, and his hands found your ass as you kissed him. his hair was soft and smelled like sea water and coconut. he moaned against you, pushing you against the brick wall outside. the strap of your dress fell down and art's hand found your breast, his thumb rubbing against your nipple as your hand grazed against his cock, hard and visible, even through his pressed trousers.

"what are you doing?" you asked, gasping.

"what are you doing?"

you ignored him.

"did you drive here? where's your car?"

art took you there, to his black sedan, his hands on the small of your back, his hips rutting into you. the door was still ajar, the repetitive beeping of his car a mantra in your ears.

art bunched your dress up, admiring your pussy as he pressed a kiss to it, wet and needy. he would never tell you he had dreamt of it since he was fourteen.

[dxddykenn]

I apologize in advance if this isn’t well written. I’m fairly new to writing and wanted to get this idea out of my head after watching The Strangers lol. This most likely will be done in two parts. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions - Naiya🤍

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Michael B. Jordan as Erik “Stranger 1”

Aaron Pierre as Terry “Stranger 2”

Method Man as Damon “Stranger 3”

Home. A place that is your sanctuary. Somewhere you can escape from all the problems of the outside world. A place that provides you with a feeling of warmth and a sense of safety. What happens when it isn’t?

It was a late Friday night, the crisp Autumn air blew the fallen leaves along the ground. Freshly showered and skin moisturized you were on the couch catching up on your latest reality show obsession. As you were getting up to refill your wine glass, a loud thud sounded throughout the house. Your movements stilled, waiting to hear the noise again.

*Thump Thump Thump* the noise sounded again coming from the front door.

You glanced up at the clock hung in the living room ‘11:45pm’… strange, you aren’t aware of anyone planning to stop by. Walking to the door you peek through the curtain of the sidelite. You were met with complete darkness aside from the light shining faintly from the driveway.

Opening the door you’re startled by a man standing just below where the porch light normally would shine down. He was dressed in a jacket, dark pants and boots, but you were unable to see his face.

“Can I help you?” you ask him.

“Is…Y/n home”. A chill runs through your body. “I’m sorry?” you question.

“Is…Y/n home” he repeats.

You look at him curiously “Who are you?” you ask.

In return he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he walks off towards the end of your driveway. Puzzled you reach up for your porch light, noticing that the bulb was slightly unscrewed. Tightening the bulb, you close the door behind you, wondering who the man was and where he came from.

Currently, you were in Georgia where you owned a vacation home that sat on a few acres of land. You were 24 years old studying to become an Optometrist. Between the never ending hours of studying, classes and life in general, you decided that you needed a mental break. Planning to stay for a few weeks you packed up and headed to Georgia. Only a very few people knew that you were leaving, which you preferred, allowing you to disconnect from reality for a little while.

Walking back towards the kitchen, you stop to set your alarm system “Better safe than sorry” you whisper to yourself.

Hours go by and you feel yourself slowly nodding off. Another episode of Reasonable Doubt playing in the background as your eyes grow heavier and heavier. Eventually you fall asleep, unbeknownst to the masked man standing behind the couch.

Three knocks jolt you awake. The man silently walking away, disappearing in the house.

Looking up at the clock again, it’s now 2 am. Getting up you cautiously walk to the front door. Peeking through the curtain of the sidelite you’re met with darkness again.

“What the fuck?” you say to yourself.

Quickly you disarm the alarm and snatch open the front door. Instantly your heart dropped, it was like the events from earlier were replaying all over. There the man was again. Still unable to see his face. Standing in the same spot as before. And the porch light out.

“Sir can I help?” you ask.

This time you notice the roughness of his voice as he repeats the same question “Is…Y/n home?”.

“Why do you keep asking that?!“ you snap.

Once again he just turns away and walks off. Slamming the door you rush back to the couch in search of your phone. Once in hand, you’re suddenly surrounded in absolute darkness.

“You can’t be serious”

Fumbling with your phone you turn on the flashlight, as your heart started to race. Slowly you walk towards the power box. It was located in a closet down the hallway just off of the kitchen. The light from your phone casting shadows along the wall as you moved. Your hand was out in front of you to ensure you didn’t knock into anything. Normally getting to the closet would have taken a few seconds but turned into minutes in your state of panic. Your hand grazes the doorknob rattling lowly. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you grip the knob.

“Finally” you say as you open the door.

As you direct the light into the closet it hits something. Frowning, you steady your hold on the phone so you could see clearly. The light lands on a pair of boots. Moving up it falls on a pair of dark pants, next a jacket. As the light goes up further it lands on a straw face you jump in fear, when you finally realize it was a scarecrow.

“Y/n get a hold of yourself” you chuckle as you run a hand down your face. Clicking the switches, the lights in the house turn back on. Turning off the flashlight, you close the door turning to walk back down the hall when you smack into something. Stumbling back you grab onto the wall steadying yourself.

“What the-” you mutter.

Inch by inch you look up. The boots. The pants. The jacket. Looking all the way up, you lock eyes with the man from earlier. A burlap sack with two eye holes and a simple smile drawn onto it now covered his head.

A sharp, piercing scream leaves your mouth as you trip over your feet, knocking over a table in the hall. Frantically you run as fast as you could, trying to get to the front door. Snatching it open you’re met with another man. This one wearing a dusty black suit, a doll face mask covered his face and a knife in hand. You staggered back as tears well in your eyes.

“No…No!” you scream as you run towards the garage.

You only make it a few steps when you encounter another man. Towering over you he looked at you wearing a skull mask. A long sleeved flannel shirt and overalls covered his body, carrying an axe.

It felt as if the world just stopped. There were now three men in your house. There was no where to run, no where to hide. You didn’t know where to go or how to get away.

Backing up you go to run when you were grabbed from behind. Instantly you start to kick and scream when you feel a prick in your neck, your vision slowly fading to black.

Groaning, your head feels heavy and your body sore as you wake up. Blinking your eyes you're in a room illuminated by a red light. As you try to move you, you notice that you were suspended off the ground, bound by your arms and legs. That's when you notice three sets of shoes in front of you. Glancing up all three men were standing in front of you, masks still on their faces.

Your body starts to tremble in fear.

The air felt thick and that time was stuck as they just watched you. Breathing. Not saying a word. Just standing there.

All you could do was cry, not understanding why this was happening to you. “Why are you doing this!” you scream out, your voice shaking. The man standing in the middle of the other two slowly leaned towards you. Your eyes locking onto his, he mutters “Because you were home”.

As if on queue all three remove their masks, your breath catching in your throat. All three were breath taking. It didn’t make sense, what did they want?

“I’m Terry” the man wearing the burlap sack introduced himself. “This is Damon” he points to the man who was wearing the dusty suit. “And he’s Erik” he points to the man to the right wearing the flannel shirt.

Confusion was written all over your face as you just stared at them. Damon and Erik chuckle.

“Don’t worry we don’t want to hurt you Y/n” he strokes your cheek. You jerk your face away causing him to chuckle, gripping your throat bringing you back to face him.

“If I were you I would listen” Erik chimes in.

Terry rubs his finger along your bottom lip before speaking “We have a long night ahead of us. You’re going to listen and do what we say if you want to make it to the morning” he smirks before roughly letting you go.

What were you going to do?

[naokyunnn]

“No guy ever made me cum yet…only myself”

pussy slapping, implied experienced fem!reader. mult. anime characters.

This guy will be delighted, he feels like he’s born to do this with that big smirk on his face.

What do you mean no one made you cum yet? EVER? Those guys must be so bad who uses you to just get off for themselves.

“Hmm? Let’s change that—“ He says through his smirk while he grabbed the back of your knees and spread your legs open, your drenched cunt on full view just for him— aching and clenching at nothing so badly for some release. “Hah— fuck, im going to do you justice baby…” He whispered to your cunt as if he’s talking to it.

He then attached his lips around hood of your clit while his flattened his tongue and lick up the slit. Both of you moaned in unison at the feeling. He then started flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it softly, enough to send you to the heavens.

He continued eating you out messily, both arms hooked over your legs, trapping you in that spot as he buried his face deeper against your pussy. Chants of his name slip out of your mouth as you grip on his locks.

He’s been going at it for an HOUR you felt bad because you still don’t feel that feeling, it’s good but you’re not reaching your high yet. You decided to just… well…. lie.

“Mnngh…. cumming— ahh” You moaned while your mouth hangs open, forcing yourself to reach your release soon, but it just can’t.

He stops, and detached himself from your pussy, he look at you with full of mischief in his eyes. “Were you really?” He smirks.

You gulped nervously. Your silence is enough answer for him. His thumb went over to rub your clit slowly. “Don’t lie to me baby… im doing this f’you y’know?” He gave you a half hearted smile but it soon turns into a wicked smirk, “… I won’t stop until you cum and gushing mess, are we clear?” He cooes, his thumb rubbed faster on your clit as you mouth hangs open again in pleasure. “S-sorry…. please… make me cum” You pleaded through your moans.

He chuckled lowly, almost mockingly. He took away his thumb away from your clit and slapped your wet cunt. “Bad girl” He mocked with a smirk. You moaned at the sudden slap on your cunt, babbling sorry’s. He dived back in again, this time he’s more hungry eating that pussy!

He did stood with his promise not to stop until you cum gushing, because before you know it, you lost track of time already and all you know is you came HARD.

“Ahh… there she is… hmm.. that’s how it should be, pretty” He smiled proudly ad he watch your chest rise and fall as you chase your breath, your kegs twitching and the sheets underneath you is SOAKED. Oh boy… he’s proud that he just wanna pound you hard and make you cum hard again and again just to see you break all over again.

DAZAI OSAMU, GOJO SATORU, MICHAEL KAISER, SHIDOU RYUSEI, Geto Suguru, Itoshi Sae, Ego. Nikolai Gogol, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Chuuya Nakahara, Karasu Tabito, Ran Haitani, Rindou Haitani, SANZU. … Your faves!

WROTE THIS IN CLASS HAHENSHSHAJS

[kaiser1ns]

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

PREVIOUS TRACK ⏮ PLAYLIST ⏭ NEXT TRACK

NOW PLAYING "00:00" BY BTS

╹synopsis :: good luck appears suddenly, even if it's just for little while, but there is always hope and faith for another tomorrow.

╹contents :: MAP OF THE SOUL PT. 2, 2.4k words, fluff + angst, KAISER BACKSTORY TW: physical abuse, alcohol.

╹taglist :: @chaosinanutshell @rinitoshisgirl @thebluelockroyals

Closing the door as he heard a glass breaking once he stepped outside in the sun that shined upon him, giving some type of warmth as he put the black hood over his head walking away from the so called 'home'. As Michael strolled through the neighborhood, the faint jingle of a bell caught his attention. Pausing, he realized the sound ceased whenever he stopped. Strange, the boy though and continued walking, the bells chiming anew as he moved forward. Turning, he spotted a sleek black cat with a white collar and a bell attached to it.

A lost cat? Kneeling down, he inspected the collar, discovering the cat's name, Felicity, and a phone number. Too bad he didn't have a phone to call and get the cat out of here. Well, there's nothing for me to do. He patted the cat on the head, got up and continued to walk aimlessly leaving the animal behind. Michael was now a little further away, and there was no sound of the tinkling of a bell. Maybe the cat found its owner already and is taken care of by receiving treats and pats.

Speaking of treats his stomach rumbled, and before he went out, he took a little bit of his savings in case of getting hungry. It was strange for him to go into the store and buy something instead of stealing it like his father wanted him to do. He took the most ordinary sandwich with ham, cheese and some sauce. When he was at the register paying, he saw the candy Y/N gave him as a reward — he will keep the location of the sweets in mind.

Walking out of the store, holding the soccer ball in one hand and the sandwich in the other, the blonde boy made his way to the playground where he first saw the girl two weeks ago, and sadly he hadn't seen her since. Well the boy can't blame her — she probably went to school and has other close friends to hangout with, something he doesn't have. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the graffiti wall he began to eat, until suddenly the sound of a bell was heard again.

Michael looked up, his eyes locking with the familiar black cat from earlier. She mewed at him, her white collar glinting in the sunlight as she approached rubbing at his leg. He couldn't help but smile at her persistence. "You again, huh?" he murmured, tearing off a piece of ham from his sandwich and offering it to her.

The cat wasted no time, devouring the ham eagerly. Once they both finished their meal he got up and without hesitation, started dribbling and kicking the ball around. To his surprise, the cat seemed intrigued, her paw batting at the ball whenever it came close. It reminded him of someone, though he couldn't quite put his finger on who. Michael took a break, sitting back against the wall and Felicity wasted no time in curling up in his lap, purring contentedly as he stroked her fur. It was a rare moment of peace for him, every time he goes out it's his free time from the prison with the awful guard that stayed in. He cherished moments like that more than anything and he wished to see Y/N again, so they can play together and maybe win another pack of candy.

As he enjoyed the quiet moment with the cat, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning his head, he saw the angel in disguise running towards him, clutching a poster in her hand that had a photo of the now sleeping pet. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her bright smile and eyes that were glossy, Did she cry?, he wondered but her sad face was quickly replaced upon seeing the boy.

"Michael!" the girl exclaimed, relief evident in her childish voice as she reached him. "Thank you for finding Felicity! I was so worried to where she could have gone."

A smile graced Michael's lips as he realized the cat belonged to her. No wonder it reminded him of someone he knew. "I didn't know it was yours," he admitted, still patting the sleeping feline. "She just followed me all day."

You chuckled, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "She has this habit of following people, though it was only family members and not one of my friends." The word friends echoed in Michael's mind, stirring something warm and unfamiliar in his chest. He looked into Y/N eyes, feeling something that he had never imagined to exist, as if he was lost in the galaxy with millions of stars to explore, falling deeper and deeper into the black holes, losing himself. What's this feeling? Why is my heart beating so fast? He couldn't figure it out, what's happening inside him, and why is she the reason for it?

"And you know animals can sense if a person is good or not, so she chose you for a reason." Michael couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth at your words, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm glad I could help," he replied softly, his gaze still locked with yours. "And I'm glad you were here, because I was going to ask you to help me, but there is no need anymore."

There was a moment of silence between them, Michael shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say next. But before he could gather his thoughts, Y/N spoke again, her voice gentle and caring.

"Michael, are you okay?" she asked, eyes searching his face with concern. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

For a moment, panic gripped Michael's chest as he instinctively reached for the hood of his jacket, pulling it over his head to hide the scar his father had left that morning. "I fell very hard on the ground while dribbling," he lied, of course he would lie not to make her worry about his personal matters and mostly not to scare her, because what if she tells her parents about him being abused? It will not end well.

The girl frowned, clearly not convinced by his answer. But instead of pressing further, she reached into her bag and pulled out some pink bandages. "Sorry, it's the only color I have left," apologizing, a small smile playing on her lips as she gently applied the bandage to his forehead.

Michael's heart swelled as he watched Y/N tend to him with such care and kindness. Despite his best efforts to keep his struggles hidden, she always seemed to see right through him, offering comfort and support without hesitation. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, but one he found himself craving more and more with each passing day.

As she finished bandaging his wound, Michael couldn't help but meet the girl's gaze once again, his eyes soft and vulnerable — a child's look. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but it was genuine.

A smile tugged at the corners of Y/N lips as she reached out to tuck a hair behind his ear, wanting to see his beautiful and gentle face. "Anytime, Michael, friends help eachother."

For twelve year old he thought she was very mature, always so kind, so gentle — a beacon of light in his otherwise dark world. He couldn't help but be jealous at her innocence and grace, hoping that she would never lose that spark, unlike him, cursed by the mistakes of two adults.

"Also I'm sorry for not showing up, I know you must have been waiting for me"

He just stared at the girl slowly nodding his head acknowledging what she said but he wasn't mad, not even in the slightest. The cat who slept in Michael's lap woke up and went to her owner "Felicity don't you run away like that!" Y/N scolded the cat but of course the animal just let out a 'meow' as she laughed enjoying a moment with her pet then she looked back at Michael who was still staring.

"Hey, Misha, do you want to play tomorrow?"

"Misha?" Y/N giggled, noticing Michael's uncertain expression at the nickname. "Sorry, is it okay if I call you Misha? It just popped into my head, and it's kinda cute, don't you think?"

Michael blinked, a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he processed her words. "I mean, sure, yeah," he replied, his voice softening at the end. Looking doen kicking the ball with his feet to distract himself from the burning tension in his body. He couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the sound of her calling him by that name.

Y/N grinned, delighted by Michael's response. "Great! Misha it is then." She scooted closer, her excitement bubbling over. "So, tomorrow, let's meet at the playground at 14:00. We can play some soccer, swing on the swings, and I can give you the cookies I made. What do you say?"

Michael's heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with Y/N. "Yeah, that sounds cool," he said, his smile widening. "I'll be here."

As they continued chatting, Y/N suddenly leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hey, Misha, can I ask you something more?"

"Yeah," Michael replied, a hint of curiosity in his voice. Y/N hesitated for a moment before mustering up the courage to ask, "Um, do you have a phone? I thought maybe we could exchange numbers so we can call eachother for when to play."

Michael's cheeks flushed even deeper as he nervously played with the ball. "Um, actually, I don't have a phone," he admitted, feeling a pang of embarrassment. "Sorry."

Y/N's smile didn't falter as she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. "Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it," she reassured him "We can still meet up here at the playground whenever we want to hang out, okay? And if anyone of us doesn't show up we can always see eachother the next time."

A sense of relief washed over Michael as he gazed into Y/N's comforting gaze. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, feeling grateful for her understanding. With a bright smile the youngster nodded, her eyes filled with happiness. "See you tomorrow at 14:00 then?"

"Yeah, see you tomorrow," the young boy replied, his smile matching hers as they made plans for their next date. Y/N and Michael stood facing each other as the silence fell, but it was calm and pleasant, not oppressive as if they were expecting some monster to come out of nowhere.

"Thanks for looking after Felicity," Y/N said softly, leaning in and planting a quick kiss on Michael's cheek, it was a tender action, making him melt on the spot, something so simple meant a lot — it was his first kiss, his first touch filled not with anger and hatred but instead of love and care. She was causing his heart to flutter even more, was it not enough for his heart to beat so fast earlier?

"It was no problem," Michael replied, trying to hide the excitement in his voice. With a shy smile, she turned to leave, her cat cradled in her arms. Watching her go, feeling a sense of longing already creeping into his chest as he didn't want this moment to end, not now, not ever. Michael touched his cheek gently, still feeling the warmth of her lips lingering there, is this what it feels like to be blessed with angel's grace? He hopes he will get to experience it again. Realizing he was standing alone in the fading light, the sounds of laughter and play fading into the distance.

He took a deep breath and he was infront of his home, his heart now heavy with the weight of the inevitable goodbye and the welcoming sounds of glass breaking.

Opening the door he was met with his drunk father who was watching TV but he didn't seem entertained and the bottles and trash on the ground made it for the energy in the house. But before the boy stepped further into the room he removed the patch from his forehead because he knew there would be even more scars if a bystander helped him and he wanted to keep Y/N safe.

His father's eyes snapped towards him, bloodshot and furious.

"Why the hell aren't you home earlier?" His father's voice boomed, shaking the walls of their small house. "I told you to be back hours ago, you useless piece of shit!"

The boy swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to appease his father's anger. "I'm sorry, Dad. I lost track of time."

"Lost track of time?" His father's voice rose, the frustration palpable in every word as he got up from the couch. "And where's the damn alcohol I asked you to bring,huh?"

The boy's heart sank. He had hoped his father wouldn't notice, but the empty bottles strewn across the floor were impossible to miss. "I... I couldn't find any," he stammered, knowing it was a feeble excuse.

The older man's face turned a dangerous shade of red. His eyes widened, his pupils narrowed, and the emotions he displayed were enough to scare anyone. Maybe it's better for his mother that she's gone so she doesn't have to see this, even though that she is the cause of everything. "Couldn't find any? You stupid pig..."

Before he could finish his sentence, the boy's father lunged towards him, his words drowned out by a tidal wave of anger and disappointment. The boy braced himself for the onslaught, knowing that this was just another night in their tumultuous existence. But amidst the chaos, he made a silent vow to be stronger so he can have another day to see his angel.

With a swift motion, his father's hand connected with his cheek, the same cheek Y/N kissed him now is tarnished, sending him crashing to the ground. He layed there, stunned and helpless, as his father's tirade continued, the sound of breaking glass punctuating each sentence. There was no defense, no escape from the torrent of anger that engulfed him. All he could do was endure, his body trembling with fear and resignation but he was already so used to it.

Each blow, both physical and verbal, carved deeper into his already bruised soul. But through the haze of pain and despair, one thought burned brighter than the rest: he had to stay strong, for her. For the hope of a better tomorrow, where he could see his blessing sent from above, but why isn't he blessed with good fortune right now? Is his suffering not enough, dear God?

As his father's rage finally subsided, leaving only a hollow silence in its wake, the boy clung to that flicker of hope, knowing it was all he had to hold onto. Will something be different? But this day will be over when the minute and second hands overlap as the world holds its breath for a little while.

Felicity means happiness, good fortune

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—CHAPTER TEN

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: ANGST

Warnings: swearing and just angst.

Notes: Yayy! An update after being gone for a month or so lmao XD but anywho, heaven and back would be updated next week, I'm still finishing the chapter up lol.

Second notes: incase if you haven't seen the Azrael fanart my friend did for me, here's the link~! And also, did you know we have a discord server? Here's the link to it:3 come and join, everyone is friendly<3 and if you're already part of the server, come and say hi too:D

Word count: 4.6k

PART ONE I PART NINE | PART ELEVEN | NAVIGATION

Michael lets out a deep exhale once he finally hears the door to [Y/n]'s room clicked as he closes it. He was beyond worried when he heard the news of what happened to her. He blamed himself for being the cause of her passing out, if only he didn't send her down there then she would've been fine.

Michael leans against [Y/n]'s door, running a hand through his soft blond locks, eyes closed as he sighs.

Unaware of the approaching dark haired taller male.

Azrael's eyebrow raised as he noticed the blond man scrunched against [Y/n]'s door, seemingly in deep thought.

Azrael heard what happened and he immediately rushed back to heaven after his work, he was worried sick for the woman.

He sighs, although he didn't show it. His charming and mischievous face remains unchanged as he approaches the door.

“Michael, didn't expect to see you today.” Azrael says, his usual teasing and sultry voice catching Michael's attention.

Michael's head raised up—previously hung low—to look at the source of the voice, only to see Azrael in his deathly glory.

“I heard what happened so I immediately came here to check up on her, especially knowing she went down there and possibly saw him.” Michael explained and Azrael fought back the urge to roll his eyes at the man.

“Still wondering why you chose her to go down there, I was willing to take the load off her shoulders.”

Michael sighs, running a hand through his light blond hair, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

“I know and I suggested it to her right? To do the rock-paper-scissors game again after she lost but she was determined to take the case and I needed to respect that, she was fully prepared to go down there.” Michael explained, exhaustion evident on his voice. He was confused too, worried even. He can only believe God's words, the man sees everything—the past, present, and future.

He can only trust his judgement despite how it pains him to see [Y/n] suffer.

Azrael sighs, stuffing both of his hands in the pocket of his pants. Decided not to further question the man and possibly aggravate both of them.

Fights between Virtues are close to non-existent, but never zero. Arguments can be dangerous for powerful heavenly beings such as themselves.

“I shall not question you further, I'll hand you my reports later this evening so for now, excuse me.” Azrael says with a sigh, walking past Michael as he knocked on [Y/n]'s door before entering.

The door closed with a click. Michael was alone in that hallway after, with a sigh and finally drooping his heavy shoulders, he walked away.

For someone to be God's right hand man, he doesn't know anything. He has no choice but to place his trust in their heavenly father.

Who is currently away to a place they don't know.

‘What a mess,’ Michael thought to himself, the worried expression on his face disappearing as it was replaced with his usual cold and aloof facial expression that he is known for, shoulders straightening up, his footsteps fading as he disappeared from the hallway.

[Y/n] was blankly staring at the ceiling as she was lying down on her bed, seemingly lost in thought.

Azrael sighs, heels clicking as he walks towards her bed, [Y/n] shifted her head to look at the sound of the noise just to see Azrael, sitting on the empty spot of the side of her bed.

She gave him a weak and tired smile.

“Are you alright? I heard what happened,” Azrael muttered, a worried look on his face, “What did I tell you about pushing yourself to the limit?”

“The audacity to say that to me with your nonexistent sleep schedule—” [Y/n] says with a teasing tone but got playfully smacked by a pillow by none other than Azrael.

“I am death, I do not need sleep.”

Azrael says with a small pout, returning back the pillow to where he got it from, crossing his arms and crossing his long and slender legs.

[Y/n] chuckled softly, moving her position to sit on the bed instead of lying down.

“I mean... You looked like death.” She says, Azrael raises his eyebrow at her.

“I don't know why but I feel offended by that statement—”

[Y/n] stares at him, almost a deadpan looking the man up and down, “Come on... You know what I mean.”

“It's the bags underneath my eyes isn't it?” he asked, deadpanning at her, “Michael has it worse, stop attacking me.”

Azrael sighs, sometimes he forgets how difficult she is.

‘Dear father, give me the strength not to end her myself. I'm just kidding, I didn't mean to say that—’

He thought to himself, letting out a long exhale as he saw the teasing grin on the girl's face.

“You're trying to distract me.” he says, eyes narrowing into a deadpan, his lips still in a pout.

“Is it working?” [Y/n] asked with a playful tone, eyebrow raised teasingly at the male.

“Unfortunately.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, long and slender fingers weaving through the dark black locks in slight frustration.

Whenever he's with her, he sighs a lot. That's something he noticed a long time ago.

The heart palpitations he gets whenever she's near might've not been because of attraction, it's probably because of stress.

She stresses him out.

Okay, just a little bit.

Azrael sighs once more, [Y/n] resisting herself to burst out into laughter, “That's the sixth time you've sighed.” She points out, Azrael deadpans at her.

“Thank you for keeping count, I really appreciate it.” He says, playful sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“You're welcome, death.” She says, it was enough for both of them to burst into chuckles.

Knock, knock, knock.

A knock was heard from her door, catching both of them off guard.

The door opens. A long dark blue haired woman can be seen standing by the door. Her hair tied into a ponytail yet her hair still reaches her waist. A serious look on her face.

Gabriel is here.

‘Oh shit.’ Azrael thought to himself, a shiver running down his back.

The room suddenly felt colder with the woman's presence. Something that often happens whenever Gabriel is in the room.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Gabriel, known as God's messenger; she handles reports that are needed to be passed around between realms.

It is natural that the news of Raphael collapsing would immediately reach her.

She can never understand what [Y/n] sees in Lucifer, sure she can see the vision but after what happened and what he did to [Y/n].

She gets the ick.

When the meeting about Sera and Adam's actions were held and the meeting also included about this 'Hazbin Hotel proposed by none other than Lucifer's daughter.

Someone needs to oversee it.

Unfortunately, [Y/n] lost the game that decides that.

The other members thought it was a bad idea but [Y/n] insists, saying that it's fair.

She doesn't want them to baby her. She wants to prove to them that she's okay.

Gabriel was beyond worried, [Y/n] is like a little sister to her despite their ages being so close to each other.

She trusts [Y/n], she can't trust Lucifer.

She couldn't trust the man who abandoned his wife for another woman.

Especially when she learned that Lilith left Lucifer.

It made Gabriel smile when she found out.

Qui totum vult totum perdit, as she always says.

Which translates to, ‘he who wants everything, loses everything.’

Michael usually refutes it with an, ‘Omnia causa fiunt.’

Which translates to, everything happens for a reason.

She doesn't understand Michael sometimes, despite knowing the man for many eons now.

She supposed Michael has some secrets to hide as the heavenly father's right hand man.

She couldn't imagine the burden he's carrying but then again, everyone in the seven virtues has something to hide.

She hums to herself, her mind returning what she was previously thinking.

What was she talking about again?

Oh, Lucifer.

Lucifer got greedy, he lost both of his wives in the process.

What differs him from the first man then?

Nothing.

After all, he is the embodiment of the sin of pride.

He is prideful, arrogant, and greedy.

Not much of a difference between him and Adam, except for how they show their arrogance.

Lucifer became blind when given the opportunity to act upon his God forsaken dreams.

Gabriel grimaced at the thought. The very dreams that doomed humanity.

With that blindness, he lost everything in the process.

As what he deserves.

Gabriel wonders why can't [Y/n] see that a man is willing to go on his knees to worship her?

Azrael, the angel of death.

The virtue of humility. Despite Azrael's slight narcissistic personality, the man knows how to be humble.

Despite the popular belief.

The man knows how to control himself. He knows the difference between being arrogant and being proud of one's achievement.

Unlike Lucifer.

Although, Azrael is borderline to it, she won't speak about it though. Nope, nuh uh.

How funny, Lucifer the sin of pride and Azrael the virtue of humility.

Gabriel almost chuckled at the thought, ‘I supposed there are two sides of the same coin.’

With a sigh, the sounds of her heels clicking against the tiled floors came to a halt.

She stood in the hallway of the Caeles mansion, facing the door that leads to [Y/n]'s room.

She can hear [Y/n]'s muffled behind the door, along with a familiar voice of Azrael laughing. Though, muffled.

Gabriel tilts her body slightly to the side so she can gaze outside through the many windows that are in the hallway.

Dark evening blue skies are what she can see, the sun has set a few hours ago.

She's not sure, the concept of time doesn't matter to an immortal being such as her.

She turns to face the door once more, taking a deep breath as she composes herself.

Stand straight, chest up, shoulders back. Confidence.

She knocks and opens the door.

“Gabriel... Hi—” [Y/n] says nervously, getting cut off.

“Save it Raphael, Azrael please leave.” Gabriel says, voice dripping with icy coldness.

Azrael smiled nervously at [Y/n], patting the girl's head before getting up from where he was sitting—the edge or side of [Y/n]'s bed—his heels clicked on the tiled floor as he walked.

He passes by Gabriel, patting the woman on the shoulder before exiting the room.

The door clicked as it closed. [Y/n] nervously gulped.

Gabriel sighs, finally letting herself walk towards [Y/n]'s direction.

The sound of her heels clicking against the tiled floor is what [Y/n] can only hear, she plays with her thumbs nervously. Her [e/c] eyes avoiding deep dark blue ones.

“We need to talk.” She says sternly as she sits on the edge of the bed, [Y/n] sighs and nodded.

This is going to be fun. [Y/n] thought to herself, sighing mentally.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, crossing her arms as she looked at the other female.

[Y/n] chuckled nervously, “I sorta got ambushed by evil...?”

Gabriel just stared blankly at her before deadpanning, “How—”

“It just happened okay?” [Y/n] just sighs and Gabriel just inhales and then exhales loudly.

“I don't want to continue asking about that,” Gabriel says flatly, clearly lost for words.

[Y/n] just nodded before looking away to avoid the other woman's eyes.

“Why do you insist on taking this job?” Gabriel asked, her dark blue eyes sternly looking at the [h/c] haired girl.

[Y/n] looked at the other woman in the eye, faltering slightly from the sharpness or Gabriel's dark blue ones.

“Because I just want to, what more reason do you want?” [Y/n] says nervously, avoiding Gabriel's stern and judgemental gaze.

Gabriel sighs then raises an eyebrow at her, “We know you just want to see him. It's been eons, [Y/n]. Why are you still hung up on the guy? You should move on and perhaps find someone new?” she asked her and [Y/n] avoided Gabriel's gaze and turned to look at the window near her bed, watching as the clouds passed by her window.

She sighs, “I can't, I still love him, Gabriel. After all these years my heart still yearns for him, aches, and beats for him.” she whispers softly, voice shaking and vulnerable.

Gabriel sighs, “You always let your emotions get in the way, that's the problem with you [Y/n] you don't think.” she says sternly and [Y/n] remained quiet, she knows Gabriel is right but she can't help it.

“He's just a man, [y/n].”

“A failure of an angel, he brings shame to the seraphims.”

“No, he's not.” [Y/n] refutes back yet her voice lacks resolve, it was barely a whisper.

“So what are you telling me? That this is all worth it because he's the love of your life and this was the man for you” Gabriel asked, a tinge of anger in her voice, her words sending knives to [Y/n]'s heart.

Gabriel is right and she refuses to listen.

“I don't know... He might've been.” [Y/n] answers weakly, a single tear running down her left cheek.

“This is ridiculous.” Gabriel says and [Y/n] just gave a pained laugh, “I know.” she says, she knows that.

“So there's no chance of changing your mind then?” Gabriel asked, a small scoff leaving her lips, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in slight annoyance at the thought of [Y/n] going down in hell once more.

[Y/n] nodded, Gabriel sighed and stood up from where she was sitting, “You're really an idiot, [Y/n].” Gabriel says with a small sigh, a strand of dark blue hair falling on her face. She uses her finger to tuck those strands behind her ear. Her dark blue eyes analyzing the other woman—helpless, weak, an utter fool for lowering herself for a man.

One might say the standards are in hell because of how low it is.

How ironic, amusing.

[Y/n] smiled weakly, she knows. She knows she's stupid for loving a man this much.

Yet, she can't help it. She's a fool. A fool in love with the devil, who was once an angel, who was once her loving husband.

You can never really know you love someone until they've hurt you and still think of them as the best person ever.

“Yeah, I know.” [Y/n] says with a pained smile, a bitter chuckle escaping from her plump pink lips.

Gabriel stood up from where she was sitting, walking to a nearby window that's near the edge of her bed, she stared outside the glass panel, her hands behind her back.

“Does that mean you'll be going down there again?” She asked, not bothering to look at [Y/n].

“Yeah.” [Y/n] nodded, her eyes downcast as she looked defeated. She hated herself for being like this.

“I am not stopping you, you're far too stubborn to listen anyways.” Gabriel says, voice monotone and tired.

“I know.” she says, voice barely above a whisper, a meek and powerless voice. Not wanting to agree with Gabriel but the woman is right and it hurts admitting it.

“Don't say I didn't tell you so.”

Not the first time someone told her that, and it didn't end well for her.

History repeats itself.

And as usual, it's her fault for not listening.

Azrael stood behind the door, ear pressed on the wooden door, eavesdropping.

He is aware that Gabriel can be harsh sometimes and he is also curious.

Can't say what he heard didn't break his heart.

He moves away from the door and leans against the wall, his face expressionless.

He has no reason to cry about it, he knows he had no chance.

A small smile was now on his face and a single tear slid down from his left eye, leaving a wet trail on to his pale cheek.

The door suddenly opens which prompted him to quickly wipe the tear away and composed himself.

He watches as Gabriel walks out of the door and closes the door behind her.

Dark blue eyes meeting dark black ones.

Gabriel's eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Azrael standing and leaning on the wall near the door, “I thought you left.” she says, eyebrow raised at him.

Azrael chuckled softly, his voice smooth and sweet yet had a tinge of slight bitterness.

“I was curious what you girls were talking about, curiosity kills the cat indeed.” he says with a slight humor in his voice.

Gabriel's eyes softened slightly, “Are you okay?” she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azrael shakes his head, “No, but I will be eventually.” he says with a small sigh, “Perhaps I should start moving on, besides, I'm starting to get interested in a certain someone.” he murmured, a mischievous grin on his face as remembered a certain archangel who is the acting celestial scribe to the book of life.

“Is it Michael?” she asked and Azrael gave her a disgust and flabbergasted expression, a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me?” he says, dumbfounded, “I may swing both ways but he isn't my type.” he says flatly, Gabriel gave him a side eye.

“Really? I swear both of you have this weird tension. The younglings say they 'ship' you and you two are the perfect representation of old man yaoi whatever that means.”

Azrael almost choked on air, what the fuck? Where did those angels even learn those words—

“Gabriel, what the fuck?”

Gabriel chuckles, nudging the male's shoulder, “I am just kidding.” she says with a teasing tone before humming to herself, “Metatron was it? I barely interact with them nor see them often. They're like Michael but worse, they're usually near father at all times to help him write the book of life so we barely see them in public.” she deadpans before looking at Azrael, “Since you are the angel of death, I supposed you see them often. I can just imagine you annoying them every time you're with them.” she says flatly.

Azrael chuckles, “Indeed, they're rather interesting but for now, I'll resolve my personal issues before acting upon my interest in them.”

“Good. Go to therapy.” Gabriel says, her lips pressed in a thin line as she looked at Azrael with a deadpan expression.

Azrael pouted a little.

“But I no no wanna...” he whined dramatically with a small laugh as he began to follow Gabriel as they walked away from [Y/n]'s room, the click of their heels slowly faded away as they slowly disappeared from the room.

Meanwhile,

“Dad, are you okay?” Charlie asked softly, her father staring outside his bedroom window, a lost look on his face.

Charlie was outside the door during her father and her supposed half brother arguing.

She wanted to come inside the room and try to calm both men down, but when she heard Xavier's voice as he talked to their father.

Charlie could hear eons of rage and utter pain in the boy's voice.

It stopped her from intervening, a voice in her mind kept telling her, ‘Don't. He needs this.’

Even if their father was the receiver of those harsh words.

She might not fully know nor understand the pain and suffering Xavier went but when she looked at the boy's [e/c] eyes, she was able to see utter sadness despite the blank expression on his face.

Lucifer was just blankly staring outside the window, his eyes fixated on the outside world but his mind somewhere, lost and drowning in his own self hate.

He hated it. He was not prepared. He was not prepared to see an almost exact replica of himself to arrive at his daughter's doorstep.

He was not prepared to see an exact replica of him filled with anger and sadness.

Seeing Xavier with his own two eyes, he was able to understand a bit of what the boy went through.

And he was the cause of it.

He regretted the things he has done, especially on how he treated [Y/n].

He was young—no, he was stupid. Just stupid.

Nothing can excuse his actions. He was an idiot and a fool.

[Y/n] was there for him, she was his best friend and he treated her like that.

Like a doll he discarded once he got bored.

He was wrong on how he treated her.

He should've done that, he should've loved her properly, treated her properly.

He should've been Xavier's father, the father that the boy needed and the father that the boy could trust.

Not someone he looks at with so much anger.

Terrifying, Xavier's rage reminded him of his own when he fell from grace.

Though, the reasons are highly different.

He loves [Y/n], he still does.

He realized that he still does in fact love the woman when he was separated from her for many, many years.

He would often call out to her without thinking, then remembering ‘Oh, she's not here.’

Falling from grace was enough to slap some sense into him.

He treated an amazing woman like her like garbage.

He's really an asshole.

Lilith cannot compare to [Y/n], he can't remember how many times [Y/n]'s name slips from his lips whenever he argues with Lilith.

It created distance between them.

Lilith couldn't take it anymore and left him.

He was left alone to wallow in self pity. He was left alone to mourn for the woman he left to suffer in her heartbreak which he caused.

He mourned his first love, he mourned his first son.

Which he doesn't deserve to do, considering that it should be the opposite.

To Xavier, he's a dead man. To [Y/n], he's a nobody.

Charlie watches her father with an unreadable expression on her, her hand outstretched as if to reach him but it hesitated midway. Shaking and unsure.

“Dad...?” she softly calls out again, her voice echoing despite the ringing in Lucifer's ears. His daughter's voice sounds like it's echoing in the four corners of his hotel room.

Suffocating. It felt like he was trapped in his own mind. His mistakes echoed like a siren's call to him. Teasing him.

He felt cold. He felt numb.

Snap. Everything stopped. The ringing stopped.

Though, his heart is beating erratically against his ribcage, like a monster threatening to get out of its prison.

He felt utterly numb.

His eyes are scanning his room, gentle streaks of light filtering through the glass panel of his windows giving his room a reddish like hue.

With a deep shaky sigh, he turned around and faced his daughter, his hand gripping his cane clenched ever so slightly.

“Charlie, dear... I would like to be alone at the moment.” he says, hesitantly. Voice quivering in each syllable, each word filled with the regrets of his past and present. Weighing him down.

Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly before giving her father a small reassuring smile, “Oh! Of course... Excuse me...” she says giving him a small bow before turning around on her heels to walk towards the door. She paused, took a deep breath before looking at her father through her shoulder.

“If you need me, I'll be somewhere around the hotel. I'll always be here for you, dad.” she says with a small smile before turning around once more, twisting the doorknob open and walks out of the door.

The door clicked to a close when she was gone.

Lucifer's tensed shoulders loosened as it drops, a small frown on his beautiful face.

A single tear slips past his eye, the droplet sliding down on his left cheek, leaving a trail on his soft and pale yet rosy cheek.

“I know.” he whispered before a choked sob escaped his lips.

He can feel the stinging sensation around his eyes, vision blurring as tears mess up his sense of sight.

He can feel his legs buckling as if it struggled to carry the weight of his mistakes that he's carrying on his shoulders.

It gave out as he was now on the floor, small sobs could be heard from, his sobs bouncing on the walls of his room, mocking him.

“Why am I crying? I don't deserve to cry. I don't deserve to cry after what I had done.” he says choking on his words, shoulders shaking, trembling.

He hugged himself in an attempt to comfort himself, yet he was met with painful memories of when [Y/n] used to hold him when he was crying.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...” he repeated to himself, rocking back and forth on where he was kneeling like a sinner.

Begging for her forgiveness, yet his repentance can't be heard from her.

‘It's all my fault, it's all my fault.’ thinking these words were like a stab to the heart because it is true.

With his last bit of energy, he lies down on the cold tiled floor. His white suit a pop of color to the redness all around him, his cheeks pressed against the tiles as tears continue to slide down on his pale skin and on to the floor.

“Over, I can't believe it's over, I can't believe the love I lived, to show some other day...” he quietly sang, his voice raspy from all the crying he shifts to let his body face the ceiling, his eyes staring blankly at the chandeliers.

“Listen, I hope that you can hear me...” he sang, propping his elbows on the floor to lift himself up into a kneeling position, his hands trembling, voice cracking with emotions, “As I kneel down and pray with the love I meant to say...” he sang softly, his voice beautiful yet filled with unexplainable regret.

“Shadows, you took away the shadows...”

“Before my life was black and white, though tonight the room's gone gray.”

She was the light of his life, his life was monotone before she came, she was a splash of color to the black and white of his so-called life.

“Golden, all the love you gave was golden,” he sang softly, [Y/n]'s bright smiling face flashes into his mind, a smile that brought so much warmth and happiness into his life, “Golden, I would gladly pay, to show the love I meant to say...”

“Oh, music you made me hear, such music,”

“Silly Lucifer, don't take our elder's words to heart! Their ancient beliefs can't possibly understand your amazing ideas!” [Y/n]'s words echo in his mind, for a brief moment, he could see [Y/n] smiling and giggling at him, her long white dress fluttering against the wind.

His eyes widened when the figment of his imagination of [Y/n] slowly fades away, his eyes widened in fear as he attempted to lift himself up from the floor, his hands outstretched in hopes of reaching her.

Only to grip on to nothing.

“Without you here to guide me, I feel as though I'll fly away...” he muttered, his voice continuing to break as tears continued to stream down his cheeks.

Droplets of his tears falling into the floor, his reflection mirrored into the small puddle of his pain.

“S-sorry,” his voice breaks even more, a simple word that is too late to say, too heavy to speak with his own lips. The very words he wants to say to her.

“Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you,”

He took a deep shaky breath, his wine red like eyes tired and dull, eyes puffy and red after all the crying he had done, “The other word is stay, to hear the love I meant to say.” he softly sang, small hiccups can be heard.

He's really an idiot.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[animasola86]

🎃 A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

misc!monsters x f!reader 🔥 words: 1.5k

You are invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, promising a night full of surprises. Are you ready for this adventure?

GENERAL WARNINGS/SPOILERS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex with strangers! Knife kink! Slimes and tentacles! Werewolves! Vampires! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: Welcome to this CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! Please enjoy this "prologue" that will lead you into a night you won't forget! After setting the scene, you will have three choices as to what happens next! (You can also read these chapters in succession, whatever you like best!)

Staring up at the large house, you realize you have no idea where you are. You've lived here your whole life and yet you've never seen this particular house. You'd clearly remember it. It's too fancy not to notice. Old. Dark woods and black metal elements. Gothic almost. Definitely not your typical house, not around these parts.

You'd figured it might just be a themed hotel that had its grand opening only recently, hence why you've never heard of it before. The invitation came a few days ago, and quite frankly, at the best time possible. You didn't have plans for Halloween, and you were not in the mood to open your door to random kids that evening either, so being called away onto the countryside, to this fancy place even, and all of it for free? Hell yeah.

Your Uber driver had been a little confused by the address, but somehow still found the hidden place. And now you look upon the large entrance doors, and despite being alone, you are intrigued. This is an adventure, a step away from your boring day-to-day life. Sure it was all a little ominous, with this mysterious invitation and all, but you figured you've been randomly selected maybe, perhaps won something for the first time in your life? You should probably be more suspicious, but then again, why not?

You are young, this is Halloween, why not live a little, right?

Fumbling the sturdy envelope out of your purse and the thick paper out of its sheath, you take another glance at the printed words:

Welcome to a night you'll never forget! Come and enjoy an evening full of surprises! You are invited to party, drink and eat like you've never had before! Your adventure awaits! Stay till the morning breaks, if you can. Come in costume. Stay for free. Happy Halloween!

You chose to dress like Little Red Riding Hood, mainly because you had the short skirt, the blouse and the red cape from your last costume party, and you couldn't be bothered to buy a new one. Putting your hair into braided pigtails added to the innocence you tried to portray, and who knows, maybe you'll find a nice guy in a wolf costume to match your freak? You don't expect much, but that's usually the best thing to do anyway. It can only get better then.

Yet when you enter the house, its windows lit up by bright colorful lights, the low bass of the music making the floorboards vibrate, you realize this might just be your typical Halloween party. From the lobby you can take a look into the adjacent rooms, fancy sitting rooms with fireplaces, already filled to the brim with people in costumes.

You see a group of masked serial killers, from Ghostface to Michael Myers, there's even Freddy Krueger and the guy in the hockey mask whose name you always forget. The sight of them would normally scare you, but these guys stand around a beer pong table, and whenever they throw the ball into a cup, they lift their masks and expose their rather normal looking faces to drink it, acting like the frat boys they probably are.

In another corner you see a bunch of girls, cheerleaders, you'd say, all dressed very skimpy, but you are indoors (and you are dressed a little similar also, so you shouldn't judge), but seeing a sexy ladybug next to a sexy office lady, laughing with a sexy cow girl (as in cow girl, literally, with black and white spots and very distinctive udders), it does look a little ridiculous. Well, at least they all found their crowd.

As you turn your head to look around more, walking up to the large staircase leading to the upper floors, you are suddenly startled by a waitress carrying a tray with little shot glasses filled with a green liquid. “Oh,” you make, as you take a step back to not walk into her.

She smiles at you, her eyes sparkling under the light of the large chandelier above you, holding out the tray. “Welcome to the mansion!” she tells you. “Please, have a complimentary drink!”

You look at the shots and hesitate. Looks like jello shots. Vodka and gelatin never sounded appealing to you, but you told yourself to enjoy the night, let loose for once, so you grab one small glass and give the waitress a nod. She quickly hurries off again, focusing on another group of people filtering into the house. Looking around, you try not to dwell too much on the drink you slowly put to your lips. There's a strangely earthy smell to it. Ugh, probably some herbal liqueur to add to the green coloring of it.

Inhaling deeply, you tilt your head back and gulp down the shot in one go, feeling it slide down your throat, as slimy and unpleasant as you would have expected. But it does give you a little buzz, and that's a start, isn't it? Clearing your throat, you look around for the waitress or a place to discard your empty shot glass, and suddenly she's back, picking the glass out of your hand, gently nudging you further into the house.

As you enter one of the sitting rooms, you find yourself among more groups of people, laughing and chatting and having fun, their costumes ranging from vastly unimaginative (one guy just wears a white T-shirt that says This is my costume) to extremely elaborate and fancy. Leave it to the Goths to really celebrate this day. You admire their beautiful gowns and make-up a little longer as you feel your stomach churning slightly. You should have eaten more before you came here, you realize, but luckily you then come across a large banquet table filled with food and drinks.

There's a big bowl of chips, but there are also a couple of three-tiered platters filled with little canapés, and you decide to try the more fancy stuff first. As you put various things on your napkin (things you've never seen before and couldn't possibly name), you look around the nicely decorated rooms. They do look old and out of a different time period, even the furniture looks as vintage as it can get. There's a lot of dark woods and wallpapers with intricate designs, also countless ancient looking paintings of landscapes and people in period clothing, and to make it look really halloweeny the whole space is plastered in fake-looking cobwebs, with plastic spiders and bats hanging from the ceiling and walls.

The lighting is different in each room, from bright green to dark red, flowery pink and icy blue. You admire the work that went into decorating the place like this. You've certainly never been to a party like this before. It looks perfect. The food is good, the music isn't too loud or obnoxious and fits the vibe pretty good (you recognize a few horror film soundtracks), it seems like a good Halloween party. You don't regret coming here at all, though the social aspect still feels a little daunting. All these people stand in groups, laughing together, and you seem to be the only one who came alone.

You don't normally mind it that much, being alone, most of your friends had other plans or were too busy to indulge in some childish little party. It sucks to be in that age group where half of your acquaintances try to be the adults they supposedly are now, while the other half can't let go of their youth, but even those thought this party seemed lame, and as you are right in the middle, unsure where you fit, you decided to just go alone, hoping you'd meet someone here.

Maybe a bit more alcohol will help you get closer to the other guests. Shoving something baked into your mouth, you turn to the drinks. A bowl of fruit punch calls your name, but then you see the beer cans and grab one of those instead. You already drank that ominous jello shot, you shouldn't risk whatever was swimming inside that punch bowl. Cracking open the can, you take a swig, feeling the refreshing beverage rush down your esophagus, but as soon as it fills your stomach, another churn goes through you. Then a cramp.

Oh dear. Leave it to your sensitive guts to ruin a good night out. Putting down the drink and food, you press a hand to your belly and turn back, looking around for the bathroom you clearly need now. You push past people dancing to the music or standing in clusters, laughing and chatting, you even pass the occasional love or horn dog unable to hide their desires as they make out right there in the middle of the room, until you find a long hallway. You'd expect a long line in front of the bathroom as is usually the case at these parties, but you are the only one in the hallway.

It's lined with intricate wooden doors, left and right, and one at the end. No sign or anything to indicate what's behind them. Feeling another cramp, you let out a groan and stare from door to door.

Where to go?

You now have these choices:

Do you...

...reach for the door closest to you?

...go through the door a few feet on your right?

...walk all the way to the last door that seems to lead outside?

ALL PARTS: 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: By the way, justice for our boy Jason Voorhees, of course I remember his name, poor reader just isn't focused on serial killers that much. Or is she? :3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[froggibus]

Finders, Keepers - slasher!Jason Todd

Pairing: slasher! Jason Todd x f! Reader (reader uses f pronouns & has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: as you feel his knife pressing into your skin, you look up at him through teary eyes. “I’ll do anything to live,” you say, but Jason intends to make you deliver on that promise.

CW: (Tagging this as possible noncon because you get held at knifepoint and fuck him so he doesn’t kill you, but eventually get into it) dubcon, maybe noncon? , knifeplay, reader gets held by knifepoint, serial killer! jason todd, stalking/chasing, oral (m! receiving), face fucking, fingering, finger sucking, cervix fucking, size difference, unprotected sex, creampie, kinda yandere themes?

day 2!! we are still going strong lol. absolutely love the idea of Jason Todd being a slasher, I kinda went for a cross between Michael Myers, Ghostface and Jason Voorhees here. anyway, hope you guys enjoy :)

Kinktober Masterlist

You dive and roll behind the marble countertop, covering your mouth to hide your teetering breath. Your ribcage aches with every beat of your heart, the pounding so loud you swear you can hear it echoing. You only pray he doesn’t notice.

Thick bootsteps fill the room, a menacing rhythm of rubber on hardwood. Each step is slow and sturdy as he approaches your hiding spot. He’s playing games with you, the thrill of the hunt almost as good as the kill itself. You only hope that you won’t be his latest victim.

You see the tip of his boot round the corner and suddenly your time has run out. You spring to your feet, catching a glimpse of your terrified features in the shiny red metal of his helmet before sprinting as fast as you can to the back door. You throw the glass door open so hard you swear it cracks, but you don’t have time to worry about property damage. Not tonight.

As soon as your slippers meet the grass, you’re tearing through the lawn and towards the woods. You can hear his thick footsteps behind you, but it doesn’t sound like he’s running. He never runs. The whole time he’s chased you has felt like one big taunt, like he’s getting off on your fear.

You almost sigh in relief when you make it past the property line and into the thick woods. You duck behind a thick oak tree, glancing over your shoulder to see if he’s still there. Your tensed muscles relax when you don’t see him anywhere. You must have lost him.

You wait behind the tree for what feels like hours before you hesitantly crawl out, attempting to find your way out of the forest and back to society. Back to help. 

But it’s dark and the moon is hidden behind clouds, and you must have dropped your phone somewhere in the chase. All of the trees look the same and you can’t seem to remember where you came from. 

Your shoulders slump when you look to the dark path ahead. There’s no way out, at least not until daylight when you’ll be able to see better. But that still leaves six hours of you hiding in the woods from a psycho killer hellbent on sinking his blade into you. 

You cast your eyes down to your bare legs and slippers. You’d been sleeping before this, wearing only your pyjama shorts and a giant t-shirt. Even if you can wait him out until daylight, you’ll freeze to death first.

You turn around and walk straight into a tree. No, not a tree. Horror dons on you as you realize you’ve walked into a six foot wall of muscle and leather. You have no time to react before his arm grabs your waist and holds you against his muscled chest, his blade resting on your throat like a promise.

“P-please!” You cry out, trying to stay perfectly still. The sharp metal is just barely grazing your throat for now, but you know any sudden movement could change that.

He doesn’t answer, but you can hear his breathing through that damned mask. It’s fast and strained, and his chest rises and falls in time with it. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to picture good memories, try to picture that you’re anywhere but here. 

He keeps his strong grip on you, keeps his knife at the base of your neck. He can practically smell your fear, and it’s fucking intoxicating. Your heart is racing, all of your muscles tremble in his arms. He’s been following you for a while now but he never thought you would put up this much of a fight.

God, it’s going to feel so good to take your life.

He starts to press the blade into your neck and you cry out. Not quite a scream, or at least not a scream of terror. It’s more of a strangled whine, but it has him stopping in his tracks.

“Please,” you whine again. “Please don’t, please! I’ll do anything, please.”

He listens to you whimper, the sounds like music to his ears. He can’t count the amount of times you’ve said please, but he keeps his knife off your throat for the time being. He wants to see just how long you’ll beg him not to take your life.

“I mean it! I’ll do anything,” you can barely breathe, every inhale short and strangled. “Say the word! But please, please don’t kill me.”

You can’t tell if he’s listening to you or if what you’re saying even makes sense at this point. All you can focus on is the knife in his hand and the arm around your waist. Your words start to sound strange even to you, the word please losing all of its meaning.

Jason loves the way you squirm in his arms and plead for your life, and fuck, you look so cute doing it. He wants to sink his knife into you, wants to feel your skin break apart at his touch, but he’s starting to think he can split you open a different way. 

He cuts off your pleads by shoving you to your knees on the ground. He twists his knife so that it rests on the back of your neck, the tip of the blade threatening to plunge into you if you don’t do a good job.

You stay perfectly still, looking up at him with teary and confused eyes. Is this it? Is he going to kill you now? You can’t tell. You watch his every move, every tensing of his muscles, just waiting for him to kill you. 

The hand that isn’t holding the knife reaches up to his belt buckle and suddenly you hear the clatter of the metal on the forest floor. You tilt your head in confusion, watching as his thick fingers tug open his zipper and release his cock.

Despite the cold night air, you feel impossibly warm at the sight of his hard length. Does he…is he expecting you to suck it? After all, you did say you would do anything to survive.

When you don’t make a move, he prods the knife into your skin just enough to draw blood. That’s all it takes for you to lean forward and open your mouth, letting his tip glide across your tongue. The taste of salty precum floods your senses.

He puts his other hand on the top of your head, guiding you along his shaft. His cock is so big it stretches your jaw, and you’re sure you’ll be aching tomorrow. Better sore than dead, though. You keep your eyes closed and focus on the task at hand. It’s easy to forget that you’re on your knees in a forest being held at knife point when he has his cock in your mouth. 

You bob up and down, trying to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. He fills you up enough that you have to breathe through your nose and every thought you have is fucked away.

You’re so caught up on his cock that you don’t even realize you’ve started to bounce up and down, grinding your crotch into your leg. You only notice when you grow so wet that you’ve started to smear your own juices onto your skin. You steady your hips, hoping he didn’t notice how your body is reacting to him.

Of course he noticed, though. He can’t take his eyes off you from behind the mask. It’s intoxicating watching your cute little face strain around his big cock while you desperately hump your own leg. You’ve been so good using that pretty mouth, he thinks you deserve a treat.

You don’t protest when he grabs you by your hair and lifts you up, still keeping that blade pressed against the back of your neck. He releases you and lets you stumble forward onto a tree, bracing yourself against your hands. 

You try to keep perfectly still, but gasp when you feel the cool metal of the blade between your legs. He puts one hand on your hip to steady you, and uses the other to cut open the crotch of your pyjama shorts.

A thick, gloved finger slides into the opening of the fabric and starts to stroke your wet clit. You shiver from his touch and tighten your grip on the tree. He slides a finger into your soaking hole. You whine and move your hips back, trying to get him deeper.

He slides another finger inside of you, pumping only a few times before pulling both out. He reaches his hand around and shoves his slick coated fingers into your mouth. You gratefully accept them, sucking your own juices off of the leather.

His cock brushes your entrance and you brace yourself, closing your eyes in anticipation. He slides in slowly, splitting you open on his thick shaft. A moan forces its way past his fingers in your mouth when he bottoms out. He’s so big you can feel him everywhere, his cock pressing into your cervix.

He pulls out and slams back in, his movements making your whole body shift. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and sets his hand on your hip, using it as momentum to drive you up and down his length. The hand holding the knife rests on your ass, the handle just barely touching you.

His thrusts are brutal. He pushes all the way in every time, before pulling out and slamming back in again. Your stomach aches from how good he’s fucking you, your legs starting to shake from how you’re standing. You were trying to keep the moans in at first, but he’s so big and so deep that you can’t help it. 

You can hear the squelching noise from your own pussy, feel your hot juices try to leak out whenever he pulls away only to be fucked into you again. You’re getting so close, so needy and desperate. You rock your hips back and forth the best you can, trying to meet his thrusts and get him even deeper. 

“I-I’m so close!” You cry out.

Jason hears your cries and lewd moans, feels the way you’re clenching around his cock. It’s almost unthinkable that you were begging for your life previously, and now you’re about to cum around his cock. He knew he made a good choice with you.

“Please,” you whine again. “Please, I need to cum, please! I’ll do anything, please.”

Your begging is like music to his ears, and suddenly he’s lifting up your leg and holding you up by your waist. This new angle lets him go deeper, the tip of his cock grinding against your cervix every time. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re gushing around him, going limp in his arms.

Jason holds you up and continues fucking into you. You feel so good and tight around his cock, and he’s so close. He practically uses your body like a fleshlight, tossing you around anyway that makes him feel good. It’s not long before he’s cumming inside of you.

He pulls out, watching as his hot cum runs out of your ruined pussy and down your sticky thighs. God, you’re a mess.

As you come down from your high, you suddenly remember the situation you're in. You press yourself against the tree, pulling your knees to your chest. He watches you, staring at you as you cower. A couple tears roll down your cheeks, though you’re not sure if they’re from fear or from pleasure.

Jason leans forwards and slowly wipes them away. Your hair is an absolute mess, your skin all sweaty and sticky, but you look so fucking cute like this. He tilts his head at you and smiles behind the mask.

Yeah, he thinks he’ll keep you.