#can anybody hear me in this cold dark room.

[drdiagnosis]

solace any pronouns user is my fundamental truth btw. i'm struggling to word this but it's sort of in a way that he doesn't have the heart to correct people and also because Any pronoun is positive to her. any pronouns sopping wet style. like it's not misgendering at all but also they just don't want to correct anybody. does this make sense

maybeit's like . Uhhahahh I use they and she also 😊 .. if youwant.... or just any pronoun ....really....... because he/him is what people default to using for her nd that's fine buuut .. there are more.... if you want..... just if you want though....... i dont want to be like a bother or anything just if you were thinking about it ... ..

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝖶𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎.' ༄࿔ L.K.

⤷ Dubcon/Noncon | Knife Play | Spanking

♱ word count: 2.3k

♱ warnings: this has darker content!! dont like? dont interact: dubcon/noncon, fem!reader, ghostface!minho, reader switches up during the ending but during the smut minho has control, knife play (1 small nick and he carves his name into readers back but its shallow), light mentions of blood, spanking, p in v with no prep or condom (be safe about this irl pls), open ending?

♱ notes: this was so self indulgent because im slowly becoming obsessed with slashers again 🥴

not properly proofread! i will go through it later in the day after i sleep <3

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

The cabin you were staying at was eerily silent as you sat in the dimly lit living room. It was a rental that you had planned to stay at for a week to spend your vacation off of work and it was absolutely beautiful during the day. Though, the forest surrounding it combined with the knowledge of just how far the nearest area with people made for a rather scary experience during the night time.

Part of you was on edge as you made your way past the floor-to-ceiling windows towards the kitchen and chills ran up your spine as you stared out those same windows only to be met with complete darkness. Not even the moon was enough to cast light on the tall trees.

‘Maybe a glass of water will help.’ You had been tossing and turning in bed for hours before you gave up and settled in the living room, only to discover that there was no signal on the TV. You were lucky to have even 1 bar as you opened your phone to check the time; 2:46 AM.

It wasn’t a horrible time to be awake, but the promise of sleep would have helped with the paranoid itching in the back of your head. Anybody could break in and nobody wouldn’t know until it was too late. And even if you knew, you were a long way from any means of help-

A sudden creak in the floorboards catches your attention. Your neck snapped towards the dark hallway, then again to the huge windows as your heart raced. The Airbnb host stated that it’s an old house so it’s known to make many noises, so ‘It was probably nothing’. You repeated this to yourself over and over again as you chugged the rest of your water and turned to clean the glass, hoping the distraction would help with the anxiety.

But just as your hand wraps around the tap handle, another creak is heard and a hand wraps around your mouth. Another slides around your front and pushes a long kitchen knife against your neck. The intruder uses his whole body to roughly push you into the counter and your heart drops as you let out a scream in surprise.

The feeling of the cold counter is almost soothing as his deep, nearly robotic, voice meets your ears. “Haven’t seen you around here before… If I take my hand off your mouth, you won’t make me angry and scream for help, right?” He slides the knife along your neck, nicking the skin there slightly as a warning.

Your lack of a response makes him chuckle and he traces the tip of the knife along your cheek, “It’s not like anybody will hear you anyway, but I wouldn’t want this pretty face to get hurt. So what do you say?” You nod as best as you can in this position and let out a quiet sob when his palm releases your face.

“P-Please…Don’t kill me.” Your plea comes out in a quiet whisper, hoping the hushed voice won’t upset your attacker. If it does, he doesn’t let it be seen in the slightest.

“Shhhhh” He tuts at you and rolls his hips forward, rubbing his hard-on against your ass and forcing your hips farther into the countertop. The pinching of your skin between your bone and the marble top makes you hiss in pain, but he ignores you and rubs your hip with his now free hand.

“Let’s play a game~” He doesn’t give you time to respond before he flips you around, wrapping a hand around your neck as he roughly pins you to the counter again.

You’re finally met with his face- or what would be his face, but is instead a long, white ghost mask that would be comical if you didn’t notice the feeling of a drop of blood running down your neck from where he nicked you.

“I’m a little stressed out, so I’m gonna fuck this sweet cunt of yours. If you play nice, I’ll let you live. But if you act like a bitch, I'll kill you!”

The joyful tone in his voice causes your skin to crawl and you let out a quiet sob of fear at the deadly ultimatum. Your choices are quite slim, and you can’t deny the ache that’s starting between your legs, so you don’t take long to nod in agreement.

“Mmmm… Smart girl. Let’s get this off of you then, yeah?” He tugs at your pajama shorts and finally moves the knife off your skin, giving you just enough leeway to move around and pull your shorts down. Once they’re far enough down your legs to drop to your ankles on their own, the unknown man behind you spins you around and immediately pulls your shirt up and over your head.

He sighs almost dreamily against the mask and you watch his head tilt down as he takes in your naked torso. You can feel his stare on you for a while longer until his head tilts further and he’s met with the sight of your pretty panties- the ones that are keeping him from his “prize.”

He curses under his breath and snakes his empty hand to the back of your neck. He grasps you tightly and uses his grip there to lead you to the huge windows, pushing you against them roughly.

“What a pretty piece of ass you got here, baby.” The hand on your neck moves down in favor of grabbing a handful of your ass cheek, landing a teasing slap there as he finishes his sentences. “Might have to go home with you- make you my little pet.” You moan both at the implication of him following you home as well as the delicious sting on your ass.

The masked man chuckles darkly and lands a harsher slap on your other ass cheek. “Call me crazy but I think you like that idea. Hmmmm? Wanna be my little kitty- my little toy for me to fuck whenever I feel like it?” You were starting to get too comfortable, and he seems to realize it. So he brings you back right to where he wants you by sliding his free hand around to your tummy. 

The occupied hand runs the sharp side of the knife around your back, leaving shallow lines that you can’t quite make out. But none of that matters. Not when he’s sliding his hand into your panties, rubbing his gloved fingertip through your soaked folds.

You’re almost thankful that he can’t tell through the gloves, but the stinging pain of the knife almost carving into your skin is diverting your attention from the rough circles on your clit. Thankfully, though, he finishes his “design” faster than you thought he would.

The feeling of a thick finger entering you grabs your attention, making you moan loudly and buck your hips against his hand. A muffled laugh is heard through the mask and his voice is husky as he speaks again, “Gonna be good for me and let me fuck this pretty pussy now, yeah?”

You don't respond right away and he pulls his finger out of you, pinching your clit meanly. “I asked you a question.” His partially wet glove comes down harshly on your ass and leaves a red mark in its wake.

You let out a squeak at the pain and apologize profusely before responding to him. “Y-Yes!”

“Good girl. You almost lost the game there, baby.” He laughs to himself and you watch in the reflection of the glass as he brings the knife down between your thighs. Part of you is horrified at what he might try, and the other part is rather aroused at the possibilities that run through your head.

But he shuts them all down when he slides the dull side against your thigh and leads it to your underwear. He runs his hand along your spine and leans you forward, pushing your ass out for him as the knife dips into your underwear- dull side up.

With this he slices downwards in one swoop, slicing your panties and causing you to gasp in surprise. You can almost hear the smile on his face as he shushes you and slices one of the sides next.

Your arms shake as they rest against the cold glass of the window and you sit there helplessly as he rids you of the ruined fabric. Once you’re left completely bare, he whistles in satisfaction and leans back.

His hand squeezes your ass cheek appreciatively as the hand with the knife rests at your hip, itching to touch you as well but knowing better than to let his guard down so easily. No matter how well-behaved you've been for him so far.

“Such a pretty thing. I really should keep you to myself.” He hums and bites down on your ear. You hear the knife get tossed beside you onto the wood floor before one of his hands slides into your hair, tangling with the strands there and tugging your neck backward. 

All of a sudden the sound of metal hitting wood meets your ears and you see the knife lying on the floor, a couple of feet from where you two stand. Then his hands are removed from you for mere seconds as he hooks his thumbs into his pants and pushes down, hurriedly shoving his boxers down alongside his jeans.

The sound of his jeans hitting the floor makes your thighs clench and he takes notice immediately. He coos from behind you and you can almost hear the smile on his face through the mask as he slides himself through your folds a few times, teasing you and testing how far gone he’s got you.

Your desperate grinding gives him the only answer he needs and he finally pushes in, groaning at the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him.

“Shit… You feel so good.” The cool plastic of the ghost mask meets your shoulder as he lays his forehead down against it.

You can’t hold back the whine that builds in the back of your throat and your nails scratch into the glass as much as they physically can as he starts to move already.

“P-Please…” You’re not so sure what you’re asking for. Maybe it was mercy. Or maybe, just maybe, all those months of research about some local town's serial killer were finally paying off.

But who needs to know that? The man behind you is completely oblivious as he pulls his hips back just to drive them back into you. You barely remember it yourself from the way his tip, thick and pulsing, rams into your G-spot.

So much so that you can feel your orgasm sneaking up so much sooner than it usually would. It eventually wracks through your body like a train as the hand in your hair tightens, holding you close to him as he slows his hips to a slow grind.

“Fffuck.. Tight little cunt, baby. But I’m not done just yet.” He picks up his pace once more and uses his free hand to caress your hips, squeezing the flesh there appreciatively before landing a slap against the same area.

He soothes it with another rub, though short-lived before his hand finds its home on your ass cheek. There he lands a series of slaps paired with his muffled moans as you clench around him incessantly.

The hand in your hair finally releases its grip only to find another on the back of your throat again. He uses this one to hold you in place, keeping your cheek pressed flush against the window as he fucks into you with no care.

He continues to use you like his personal fleshlight as he grunts behind you, legs shaking from his oncoming release. The same release that is left deep in your walls, swimming around before dripping out onto your abused folds.

You both moan in unison as you cum around him again, whining at the sharp thrusts that were meant to fuck his seed further into you.

He finally pulls out once your cunt is done milking him and he pulls out a phone from his jeans, snapping a quick photo with flash on before laughing to himself behind his mask.

While he’s occupied with his delusions, you decide it’s time to make your move. 

You push his chest lightly and watch as he collapses onto the couch, head tilted up at you in amusement while his arms settle on the back cushions.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep and breathy, it goes straight between your thighs and you almost moan at simply hearing him like that as well as the confident stance he’s taken. But you have a mission on your mind.

One that includes rushing to pick up the knife from the floor and not giving him a chance to respond before you’re straddling his thick thighs and pressing the knife to his throat.

His arms stay in place on the cushions and he huffs out a laugh in pure amusement, waiting patiently for you to make your next move.

What he didn’t expect was the grinding of your now leaking cunt on his now hardening cock. He moans lowly at the feeling and goes to rest a hand on your hip, only to be met with your hand slapping it away and the other digging the knife into the skin of his neck. Karma.

“I won your game fair and square. So let’s play my game.” Your hand reaches up under the mask and tears it off his face. 

He’s not sure why a potential survivor seeing his face doesn’t worry him. But when his tip catches onto your clit and you hold the knife steady against his neck, he thinks he’s just fallen in love.

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

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[devynscomet]

in my room

in which; billie would do anything for you.

a/n; i was supposed to post this for kinktober but i lost motivation and i find myself physically unable to write smut so take this shitty fic i can’t finish💔😢

vampillie because we love her.

billie slams her car door shut, twirling her keys in her fingers. she’s tense, she’s stressed, she feels like shit. but it would all be okay, because as soon as she returns home, she knows you’d be there.

billie’s that weird neighbour. she never talks to anybody and nobody ever sees her come in and out of her door. by the time she’s home, everything’s dark. nobody dared to speak to her. except for you.

it’s dark in her house. there’s nobody there, and her footsteps echo eerily throughout the emptiness. her tongue prods gently at the fangs in her mouth, desperate for prey. for something to feed on. she wanted to feed on you. you, you, you.

when she finally reached her bedroom, she lays down in bed, staring pointlessly at the ceiling. her gaze fixed on her window, jaw clenched tightly as she waited for that familiar knock on her window, your voice wafting quietly through the screen.

2:45 am, and she finally hears it.

tap. tap.

a pause.

and then, “are you gonna let me in?”

your voice is like a soothing music to billie’s ears. the room is far too dark for you to see anything from outside. your breath fogged up the glass.

“hello? hellooo?”

billie slid her window up, her pupils blowing out with pure lust and desire as she helps you in. her lips messily attach to yours as she practically shoves you against the wall beside the window, sliding it shut. your hands scrabble desperately at her shirt, trying to catch your brain up to the moment.

when her tongue slides into your mouth, that’s suddenly all you can think about. your moan fills her ears and vibrates against her lips. her hands grip down harshly on yours hips, eyes closing as she put her entire soul into dominating the kiss. all you could do was helplessly hold on as she kissed you hungrily, like she was going to eat you alive. and she knew you’d let her.

eventually, after a heavy make-out session against the wall, your hands gently push against her chest, coming up for air. both of your faces were flushed, lips wet and parted and panting. your expression had changed.

“baby, what’s wrong?” billie murmured, gently cupping your cheek and running her thumb along your bottom lip. something’s wrong. her baby was upset.

“i was spotted by the neighbour’s kid…” when those words hit her ears, her pupils contracted into slits. a small growl of annoyance sounded in the back of her throat, her eyes burning into yours.

“and?”

“and i can’t come back anymore. they know our secret.” your whisper was almost sad, and definitely regretful. her jaw clenched, gaze still cold and fierce. she wasn’t about to let you go. never, would she let you go. you were hers.

“you stay here and don’t leave until i come back.” she snarled, and before you could even process what was happening, billie was down in the kitchen, grabbing a knife.

now, she stood in the neighbour’s backyard, knife gripped tightly in her hand. with practiced ease, she cuts through the screen. for the kid, who saw you, she dug the blade deep into his throat. no chance to scream whatsoever as she muffled him, shoving him to the ground, leaving him dead. she had the dignity to at least make his death a bit less… graphic.

the dad and mom weren’t as lucky. she chased him down the hallway. she shredded up the father’s throat, and he was quick to fall.

billie held the mother’s face still as she straddled her hips. she licked her lips, fangs elongating as a cloud of red clouded her pupils.

“you’re pretty. shame i have to kill you.” she leaned in, her teeth sinking into her neck. but her blood didn’t taste as good as yours. nothing could compare to yours. if anything, it was repulsive.

billie made quick work of the family. nobody would suspect her. even if they did, nobody would be able to catch her. when she got back to the house, you were sitting patiently on her bed, mindlessly staring off at the wall. what caught your attention the most was the copious amount of blood that currently covered her. you should’ve been concerned, this should’ve been your sign to leave. she’d always made it clear you could after all. but no, instead, it was actually rather hot.

“bils…” you’d murmur, standing up slowly and walking over to her.

“im sosososorry, i got mad and caught up and i don’t know—“ billie apologised profusely, but she was shut up the moment she felt your lips on hers. she closed her eyes, her hands gripping onto your hips.

she wasn’t going to let you go now. she couldn’t.

[intoanotherworld23]

Not Free To Go

Summary: Sheriff Tyler Owens catches you breaking into his home, and he takes you back to the station to teach you a little lesson

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, dominant Tyler, sheriff Tyler, submissive reader, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, use of authority, mention of crime, attempted burglary, implied sex

A/N: comments and reblogs are totally appreciated to show support for your writers! If you wish to be added to my Glen Powell tag list let me know so I can be sure to add you! Thanks everyone so much! XOXO

Hall of hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Glen Powell: @djs8891

"So you like breaking into peoples home huh?" The sheriff asked sternly as he bent you over the cold steel table. “Well you picked the wrong fucking house to break into.”

"I'm sorry." You whimpered pathetically as his foot pushed your legs further apart. In fact too far apart you could feel a slight burning in your muscles on your inner thighs.

"Oh now you're sorry." He chuckled devilishly at your poor excuse of an apology. You broke into the sheriffs home, and all you had to say or could say was just a plain and simple sorry. "I think you're just sorry you got caught.”

You weren't meant to get caught at all. It was just a dare that went too far, and you're the only one he was able to grab. Your stupid friends dared you to break into the Sheriff Tyler Owens house, and try to find something nice and expensive. Only thing is you didn't expect him to be at home waiting.

Then he had no time in driving you back to the station throwing you in a cell. There was something about the way he handled you, and looked at you that was dark. There was something much more than anger behind his eyes. You couldn't quite tell what it was though.

"Please I'm sorry I wasn't going to steal anything." Hoping that would make things better, but the sheriff just ignored you knowing that you were just lying.

"Were you by yourself or with friends?" Hands patting your legs squirming in his hold.

"Isn't a female supposed to check me?" You asked turning your neck to get a better look at him.

"Shut the fuck up." He raised his voice at you. "You lost that privilege when you decided to break into my home."

"You can't treat me like this." Speaking out again.

"Better watch that mouth sweetheart or it's gonna get you in big trouble." There was something in his tone as he said those words that had your thighs pressing together. It was the kind of trouble a woman like you was looking for.

"Or you'll do what?" You were really pushing him this time.

Tyler was fuming at this point, and all he had on his mind was teaching you a lesson. The way you talked back to him like a spoiled child. You were just asking for a punishment. There was only one way that he knew for sure would work.

"Now answer me." Feeling his hands now patting close to your area. "Who else was with you?"

"Nobody." You lied quickly not wanting to rat on your friends like that.

"I don't believe you." Tyler responded as he swatted at your inner thigh making you jump. The smack echoing around the room.

Most people would be terrified being in this position, but right now you were incredibly turned on by how dominant he was becoming. You couldn't help but feel you weren't the only one feeling this way.

"I'm telling the truth, sheriff there wasn't anybody else." Pleading with him to believe you. He still wasn't buying it.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time." His voice quieted as his thick hand pressed against your clothed core. "Was there anybody else?"

"What are you gonna do?" Whispering loud enough for him to hear fear and lust evident in your voice.

"Whatever I want with you." His hand smacking down where it laid your legs folding together.

The air had left your lungs, and it felt as if someone turned up the heat in this room several degrees. The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. It felt like the room was closing in on you two, and there was no way to escape.

Quickly opening your legs back open for him. Feeling his hand back on you as he kept it there for a few seconds. He could feel how warm you were between your legs, and he was loving it. He was glad that you were feeling the same mood that he was.

“I bet you are just completely soaked down there.” He was stating more matter of factly than a question. It was the truth though if you were wearing any pants you would be dripping down your legs. “Bet you’ve got a creamy little cunt too.”

You could tell him you don't want this, and scream for help in hopes someone would come running in and stop all this. Instead you chose not to, and wanted more. You were hungry for his touch, and lust was all you could think about.

Tyler rubbing his hand up and down the pants you had on the fabric pressing into your clit. A tiny whimper slipping past your lips. Biting down on bottom lip hoping he didn't hear that. The air around you was becoming thicker making it harder for you to breathe.

"That feels good doesn't it sweetheart?" Tyler grinned knowing exactly what he was doing to you. Putting more pressure on your core just wishing he could feel how drenched you were for him. He wanted nothing more than to reach his hand down your pants, and collect your juices on his fingers.

"Just tell me what I want and I'll let you cum." Tyler whispered seductively in your ear pressing his now fully clothed erect cock into your backside.

Pushing unknowingly back against him to feel more as he kept rubbing his hand up and down more aggressively this time. Tyler saw what you were doing and chuckled to himself. He let you keep it up for a little bit before pulling away from you making you cry out.

"Ah ah ah." Pulling his hand away this time too not letting you get exactly what you wanted right away. "Not until you tell me what I need."

He already knew the truth that you didn't work alone, but he was the one in charge right now, and he needed to hear you say it. Right now he needed you to submit so he could also get what he wanted.

"Okay fine there was others." Blurting out finally telling him the truth just so desperate to feel anything at this point.

"Good girl." Patting your ass with praise making your cheeks heat up. "See that wasn't so hard now was it."

Before you could even respond the same hand that was rubbing on you was now sliding your pants off down to your ankles. Pushing past your panties feeling exactly how turned on he was making you. Tyler almost growled at how drenched you were so quickly.

"Fuck you are wet for me aren't you?" You could only respond with a moan unable to even speak as he touched you like a piece of artwork.

Able to easily slip his fingers inside of you pushing all the way to his knuckles. Your mouth hanging open as he pulled out and then pushed back in. Immediately starting a rhythm that had your body rocking against the table.

“Such a tight little cunt for a little thief.” Hissing more to himself than you as he watched your walls suck his fingers inside of you.

Pressing his whole body into you so that you were squeezed between the table and his body. Wanting nothing more than to rip yours and his pants off, and fuck you until tomorrow. He had patience though, and knew it would be worth it to hold out a little more.

"Is this what you wanted?" His tone condescending, and you felt ashamed for wanting this so easily.

"Yes yes yes." You babbled out already feeling the pressure building between your legs.

Tyler wanted a different response as his free hand smacked your ass harder this time. This time you could really feel the sting from the impact. He wanted you to know he was the one in charge, and the one with all the power right now.

"You wanna say that again sweetheart?"

"Yes sheriff." Responding back to him hoping that's what he wanted.

"That's a good girl for me." He praised again his fingers going faster this time as his palm smacked against your pelvis.

The suction noises echoing in both of your ears hearing exactly how drenched you were. Feeling your ears and cheeks burning a sudden embarrassment washing over you. Tyler was loving it though more than he ever thought he would.

Maneuvering his thumb so he could rub your clit pushing you over the edge. Crying out as his hand grabbed your mouth to keep you quiet. Hushing in your ear, but never once stopping or slowing down his movements.

"Can't have anyone know what I'm doing to you in here." Whispering in your ear as he nibbled on it. "Can you imagine what they would say if they caught you fucking the sheriff?"

That's the last thing you wanted for everyone in this town to hear about this. To know how easily you folded for him, and you broke into his house. Your reputation would be completely tarnished, and nobody would look at you the same.

Tyler knew he had the upper hand here. He knew you wouldn't say anything to anybody, cause they would probably take his word over yours. In fact Tyler might even keep you around longer to do this again.

"Dirty little thief spreading her legs to keep from going to jail." He kept going as if it was a shared secret between you two. "You'll do anything to keep from going to jail won't you?”

It came out more like a statement than a question because he already knew the answer to that one. He could tell you were the type of girl who would do anything to avoid jail time.

"Please." Begging him feeling so close to release already.

"Please what?" He teased again knowing what he wanted. Not wanting to let you get off so easily without having to work for it first.

"Please sheriff I wanna cum so badly." That was all he needed to hear for motivation. His hand gripping onto your hips as his fingers literally drove themselves into you pushing and pulling your body. Clenching around his fingers as your hands gripped the edge of the table.

Tyler’s fingers stayed still inside of you as they curved inside motioning in a come here action. Gasping loudly as you turned your head to bite into your arm at the motion. Tyler having you right where he wanted you.

Your entire body was on fire right now. Your legs were already trembling, and you didn't know how much longer you'd be able to last. Thank god for him holding you otherwise you'd have collapsed to the floor.

Tyler’s inner beast was banging against the cage wanting to be let out. All he wanted to do was devour you right against this table. He wanted you completely at his mercy, and to hear you beg for his cock.

Watching as your body wriggled under his hold, and how you couldn't control what your arms and legs were doing. It was like something was possessing you, and Tyler was the reason. Who would have ever thought getting caught breaking into the sheriffs office would leave to an amazing orgasm.

"Fuck yeah I want you to cum for me." Growling into your ear. "Want to feel that cunt cum around my fingers."

That was all you needed to hear as your entire body tightened. Legs shaking as your orgasm came over you violently. Mouth hanging wide open as whimpers and moans left your lips.

Tyler keeping you in place though against his body his cock really pressing into you. Imagining the whole time it was him inside of you instead of his fingers.

Your entire body felt defeated and weak. Not being able to lift your head or even move your arms. All that was just from him fingering you. Not sure if you were gonna be able to handle his cock now.

"Fuck I could tell you needed that." Tyler joked as he soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your back.

If you weren't in such a state of bliss you would have felt so ashamed for what you just did. Not being the type of girl who would spread her legs for just anybody. Let alone the sheriff of this town.

"Am I free to go now?" Asking timidly wondering if he would let you go.

"Oh no baby girl," hands gripping onto your hips harshly, "I'm not nearly done with you yet."

"But I told you what you wanted to know." Cranking your neck to look at his reddened face, and blown out eyes staring down at you.

"You still need to tell me your friend's names." That made your eyes go wide. "For that you get to cum around my cock."

[marys2ndson]

hunting fucking sucks: a fic rec list

I just love when their lives suck not because they’re vessels for archangels or whatever, but just because their job is the worst. thankless, dangerous, morally ambiguous, leaving them injured and dirty and bone-tired. i <3 whump

Due East by sowell (4,700 words)

Just hunts and angst and them, together. Love the characterization. 

“I think I like you injured. Less bitchy,” Dean says with a smile, and Sam blinks at him. / “What?” / “You think I haven’t noticed you sulking for two days straight?”

Hard to Come By by sevenfists (1,700 words)

Hunting, driving around, sleeping in shitty motels. Making difficult choices, dealing with hard realities. 

"You don't smoke," Sam says, and Dean says, "What's it look like I'm doing?" The cigarette tastes like ass. He smokes it anyway, tapping the ash out the open window. It's August. Sam turns up the air conditioning. Dean turns it back down.

Below Breath by kalliel (3,100 words)

Season 2, case fic. Love the complete lack of exposition. You’re just thrown into it on Dean’s terms, and everything is complicated and difficult and unknown. 

Dude, he says, and shoves you in the back with his shotgun. You resist the urge to turn around and smack him with it. Or kiss him, all teeth. See how much he’s paying attention then. 

Every Rhyme Without Reason by kalliel (44,800 words) 

Season 1, case fic, Sam POV. Fascinating and atmospheric and a tough read bc Sam’s life is very uphill at this point, but he’s so present, wrestling and grappling with it. Love him. <3

Maybe they killed that rawhead, released that reaper, slashed that bax'aan's throat. Maybe they'll kill this thing in Rime. But this is what's gonna get them: They have $127.34, four more nights, half a tank of gas, and some cold leftovers to their name. Out here, there's nowhere to go but down; and even then, they're going to have to limp.

With Gravy by kalliel (3,700 words)

Vague season 2. A hunt gone wrong. Slim chances of survival, complete darkness, pain, and heroism. 

The tunnel stretches on and on, and all Dean hears is their footsteps getting heavier, sloppier. One kid cries. The woman cries. The man's leg doesn't quite clear some jutting rocks, and he weeps.

The Real Thing by ameliacareful (14,200 words)

Jensen wakes up in a motel room in Dean’s place. So outsider POV. That thing about the third trial, about Tom and Shep… Kill me. 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” / “What?” / “Sounding like him?” / “A little. Does it work?” Jensen asked. / Sam did that funny little flicker of a smile/grimace that Jared only did as Sam. “Yeah, it does.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t do it again.” / Sam was suddenly very big. Armed. / “Gotcha,” Jensen said.

Catch Your Death by road_rhythm (22,300 words)

They work a ghost hunt while Sam’s sick. This fucks severely! All their petty fights and their biases and bickering really get the spotlight they deserve, as well as the fact that they just really love and care about each other. Feels exactly like a really good ep of s2. And takes up some of the interesting Sam issues as well.

It was this, every time. Sam lashed out and Dean came back with impenetrable patience and washcloths and medicine and touch and one day it would be his life. And there was no answering back to that.

my habit of breaking hearts as soon as i have them by acccording2thelore (6,600 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

A hunt gone wrong. Staggering grief and horror mixed with intimacy and connection. <3 

If he can just get to Garth, he can send up some of his people and help carry Sam to the base of the mountain. Dean won’t make it that far.

the blurriness of being alive by hathfrozen (3,500 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

Sam dies of an infection.

“They don’t get to grieve for him,” Dean tells Miracle when he decides he isn’t calling anybody to tell them. “They ain’t allowed. They don’t get it.” Dean’s had the worst things in the known universe leeching off of him, trying to turn him into evil, but this is the most rotten, meanest he’s ever felt. He doesn’t fucking care.

A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde (18,400 words)

They work a case with their mom; Sam gets banged up; they try something new. This fic feels so real and lived in. The familiarity between Sam and Dean, the way Sam feels left out, Sam’s quiet loneliness and enduring hope, Dean’s desperate affection. <3

Sam would say lucky it was just broken bones. Lucky nothing else cut too deep. Lucky his ear was intact. Dean gets lost, strung out, trying to calculate: if Sam had been concussed, would that still be good luck? If he’d lost the finger, should Dean be thankful? Where does it end, the tallying? Sam thrown through glass, dragged across pavement, tossed into a car, stitched up in this cramped doll’s house of a room, having to bluntly endure; this is what he’s supposed to be grateful for?

Settle Down My Shivered Bones by abitingsmile (4,800 words)

WARNING: disordered eating, food insecurity, and child neglect. 

Pre-series. John, unreliable and off hunting somewhere, and Sam and Dean, making it work with too little cash and too little food. Love this exact flavor of codependency, not sweet, but hard-earned and for survival. 

Sam still bickered with him about school and television and laundry, but not about food. Hell, he practically waited for Dean to give him permission to eat, because that way they knew there’d be enough. John or no, this was something incredibly important they could control, they could handle. John simply wasn’t in the loop anymore.

[dreadsuitsamus]

Will | Vegeta x Reader |

author's note: this is for the always lovely @miss-taura! i hope you're starting to feel better, or that you start getting better quickly!! rest and hydrate 🩷

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: saiyan!reader, illness, mentions of death, mentions of frieza doing frieza things

Anxiety clings to Vegeta's stomach as he marches to your room on the Frieza station— you weren't at dinner tonight. It's unlike you, unlike any Saiyan warrior, and worry nags the Prince to his bones.

Of the Saiyans left, you're certainly his favorite. The bar is low, with your competition being Nappa and the Radish-boy, but you're still quite the cut above them. And your lack of presence is irritating, rude, and above all worth a princely tantrum.

Pounding on your door, his patience is too worn thin to properly wait for an answer. You haven't responded with the half second between his harsh knocks, so obviously he's got every single right to invite himself in. It's dark but his scouter clearly marks your exact position in your bed, and he hears your soft groan as the light from the hall floods in.

"What the hell, 'Geets?" Congestion plagues your sinuses, and a fever leaves you with harsh shivers as you glare at Vegeta with blurry eyes.

Vegeta scoffs and narrows his eyes as he steps further in, kicking the door shut behind him. "More like what the hell is up with you. You skipped dinner."

You cough into your shirt, flopping down pathetically onto your pillow. "I'm not hungry."

"A Saiyan is always hungry." Vegeta's arms cross over his broad chest as he tilts his head— he's not sure if he's ever seen you sick, or anybody else on this ship, for that matter.

A cold trickle of fear suddenly drips down his spine; Frieza certainly would find no use in nursing any of his army back to health, and absolutely wouldn't tolerate a particular bug spreading amongst the force.

He can't lose you like this.

Too tired to argue with him, you wave a hand in Vegeta's general direction. "Leave me be, 'Geets."

Vegeta nearly growls— you're far too uncaring. Do you have a death wish? He storms out of the room and you're far too ill to wonder what's gotten into him before another terrible coughing fit assaults you again.

Your consciousness fades in and out, though the next time you come to for longer than mere seconds, it's at Vegeta's shaking of your shoulder. His touch isn't particularly gentle, the rare occurrence never really is, but you can feel his effort of holding back. "Mmm…?"

"Sit up and eat, and take this too." A platter from the dining hall sits on the nightstand beside your bed, and a small caplet is flicked your way.

"Where did you find medicine?" Throat scratchy and burning at even breathing, a soft cough follows your question.

"It matters not. Just use it."

So he broke an international law somewhere, got it.

Your legs rub together unconsciously, begging the resulting friction for warmth. A Saiyan rarely feels so chilled, but it's as if you're iced to your very bones. Vegeta's jaw ticks and he doesn't put much thought into the why before he's stripped off a glove and pressed the back of his rarely-revealed hand against your forehead. His memories of his mother are frighteningly fading, but that is one of the few that holds strong and he can clearly remember of his late mother. He was young and felt awful for perhaps the first time in his life, and her gentle hand measuring his fever did wonders as a cure compared to all the bedrest and tonics.

Your watery eyes meet with Vegeta's as he moves to touch each cheek, his knuckles dragging along your skin and bumping over your nose. Eyes guarded, he turns his head and pulls back his palm. "You're running a fever. Eat now, and take the medicine. You're to be cured by tomorrow, understand?"

This motherfucker is giving my illness orders!

Opting for a dumb nod, your attention focuses on what he's brought you. Nothing too capable of potentially upsetting your stomach, it's easy to devour even with your fatigue crawling back by the second and the shivering from your fever slowly icing you more and more. You can hardly even notice Vegeta's too-quiet demeanor as he stares a hole into the carpeted floor, though to not see such a stoic side of the rather bratty, barbarous man that typically wears a smile of evil would be impossible.

"Done." Voice hardly capable of more than a whisper now, you set the plate aside and, large pill laid out on your tongue, finish off the first of the gallons of water he's thoughtfully provided you.

"Rest." His order is swift and gruff as he turns to leave, but your voice, quiet and unsure, calls for him to linger just a bit longer.

"T-Thank you, V-Vegeta." The tremors of your body are harsh enough to make your teeth audibly clash together, and the thin blanket wrapped around you couldn't possibly be enough to dispel this fever.

Breaking the fever will allow the medicine to work, and a little sigh pulls from his lips. You certainly always manage to break down a barrier he places, and usually it's fully unintentional and unknowing. But he cannot lose the last woman in his life, the last of the Saiyan race, and that's what has him stripping to his underwear and climbing into bed with you.

"'Geets…"

"Speak not a word further. Rest." He grumbles and unravels your wrapped form, inserting himself under the blanket with you. The heat radiating from him nearly makes your head spin as you grab the Prince's body despite how unbecoming this all is. The touch of his body isn't exactly foreign, though it certainly is in the manner of comfort rather than the training you've always known.

Vegeta's hold is tight. It's his duty as your Prince to keep you alive, though the warming of his cheeks when he gets a glimpse of your sleeping face suggests to himself it may not be as noble as he wishes.

[wildlavendermoon]

Just a summer thing

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

────────────

pairing. Ethan Landry x fem!reader

warnings. Fluff, swearing, mention of blood

summary. You decide to spend your summer as a camp counselor and meet another camp counselor Ethan Landry whom you quickly catch interest in and so does he

a/n. The characters are from the Scream universe but there's no Ghostface involved. I'm actually thinking about doing another part let me know what you think this is the first fic I'm publishing here! please do not repost.

Pt2 here

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was just the beginning of the summer, and you could still feel the heat slowly rising. It was your first summer being a camp counselor at Camp Moondale you didn’t know anybody; it was a new experience, and you hoped to get out of your comfort zone.

As the scent of wood lingers in the air, you take in your surroundings, which you will become familiar with over the next month.

The room was packed with other counselors. You sat by the window, listening attentively to a tall guy with blue eyes and dark hair. He welcomes everyone and explains the rules of the camp, his face is very serious, but he has a charming side that doesn’t make him cold or irritating.

A girl with black hair and freckles is sitting next to a tall muscular guy with a big smile, and a girl with short curly hair looks at him disappointed.

Then your eyes meet with brown eyes; he has a little smile and curly brown hair. You look at him for a few seconds, then look away, flustered. Your attention goes back to the head counselor, whose name is AJ

“Well, if you don't have questions, we can move on and put you in your assigned cabin”

You soon learn you will be in the squirrel cabin with the two girls you saw earlier. The brunette comes up to you with a big smile 

“Hi, I'm Tara It's nice to meet you and this is Mindy” she points to the taller girl next to her 

“Hey, I hope you don't snore or anything, right?”

A small chuckle comes out of your mouth 

“No worries, I don't. I'm y/n, by the way”

Mindy smiles at you 

“Is this your first time here ?”

“Yeah actually... I’ve never done this before”

Tara looks at you with a reassuring smile 

“It’s quite fun here; it's going to be a great summer, trust me!”

Mindy has one hand on her hip with a little grin. “I hate to admit it, but it's not that horrible, and we come back every year with my twin brother.” She points at the tall, muscular guy with a varsity jacket; he moves toward you with a dazzling smile and says,

“Hey, I'm Chad, and this is my roommate Ethan!”

You smile back at him and see the guy with whom you exchanged looks earlier behind him. Mindy puts a hand on your shoulder.

“This is y/n she's at our cabin, and she's our new friend”

Ethan flashes a smile and simply says hi. His eyes are dark, but you could easily lose yourself in them for hours. He has a defined jawline, and overall, he is very attractive. Your heart skips a beat the second he looks toward you.

Then Tara interrupts you in your daydreaming: “We better get going to our cabin now; see you later, boys!”

Tara grabs your arm, and you three walk to the cabin. You unpack your bags and talk with the girls, trying to get to know each other.

As the sun sets and the night breeze hits your neck, you walk towards the campfire, where all the camp counselors are. You can hear some laughter and fire crackling in the distance. You sit next to Mindy and, a girl with black hair with some blond streaks. Furthermore, you look up and see Ethan sitting in front of you, talking to Chad, as the fire warms your face. You haven't had the chance to talk to him yet; all the girls have told you is that he is a big horror movie fan, and he is a bit shy.

Your conversation with Mindy gets more joyful and you get to know Anika the girl next to you, but you can't help yourself with some glances at Ethan. Feeling the tension between Anika and Mindy you decide to leave them alone, you see Tara and Chad cuddling up and decide to approach the fire.

As you look in the distance you hear footsteps behind you, Ethan emerges and sits next to you you look up at him

“What are you doing all alone?” he asks

“I think Mindy and this girl are flirting with each other and I didn't want to interrupt anything”

“Yeah I kinda feel like the third wheel when Chad and Tara are together”

You chuckle softly

“How long have you guys known each other?”

“Um It’s been less than three years I think, I moved in with Chad and I've been part of the group ever since”

“And you go to this camp every summer?”

“Yes basically it's just really cool to go here together”

“Well it's cute that you have each other”

He looks at you more attentively

“Why did you decide to go here?”

“I just needed something new…I just wanted to change my mind you know?”

He nods and doesn't insist on it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Besides this place is very cute it’s kind of refreshing”

“Doesn’t it scare you the woods?”

“Well as long as Jason doesn’t crawl from them I’m good” you chuckle and he looks at you surprised

“Wait you like horror films?”

“Guilty! It’s my nerdy side”

“Well, I’m a pretty big nerd when it comes to horror movies too!”

You smile at him glad that you could make a conversation with him after dying to talk to him all day.

You and Ethan talked about horror movies all night until you went back to your cabin. You waved goodnight to him before going to sleep, unable to stop smiling about the day.

The first few days were pretty relaxed, with activities around the camp with the kids and getting to know everyone better. You often talked to Ethan late at night.

The heat today was intense, making your skin feel like it was melting. You smelled like sweat and sunscreen. Naturally, everyone decided to freshen up and go swim in the lake. The kids were excited, and you couldn't hide your excitement either. You notice Chad playfully fighting with Tara in the distance. As you turn your head, you catch a glimpse of Ethan in his swimsuit and shirtless. You slowly take in his ripped physique, unable to look away from his abs. The temperature seems to rise suddenly, and then he notices you and smiles. The group starts heading into the water, and you decide to join them.

Everyone was enjoying the moment and laughing playing games in the water, and then you were alone with just Anika

“You know Ethan was checking you out!” she says playfully

You open your mouth a little surprised“No you're lying!”

“I'm not! He can't stop looking at you” playing with her eyebrows

“Really?” you smirk

“I can assure you he only got eyes for you”

She points with her head behind you

You look behind you and see Ethan with Chad and you catch him looking at you

“What should I do?” you say to Anika

“Maybe you should try a move on him and see how he reacts. But be subtle not too forward!”

“I will try that thanks Ani”

You swim back to the group but it's just you Ethan as the two couples go do their own thing.

“It's just me and you again!”

“Yes, are we like the 5th and 6th wheel?” you laugh

“Do you not like spending time with me y/n?” he teases

“It’s like torture you can't even imagine!” you tease him

He acts offended faking a pout

“Oh really?”

You nod and he decides to splash you

You're surprised at first but then attack him back as you two act like kids playing in the water.

After a few minutes, you say “I'm thirsty I'm going to get some soda you want some?”

“Sure let’s go!”

Ethan gets out of the water first picking a soda from the cooler, as you get on the ladder you feel something scratching on your knee you hiss in pain.

Chad notices it and sees blood on your knee

“Are you okay? shit your bleeding” he helps you out picking you up, Ethan rapidly makes his way to you

“What happened? Are you hurt ?”

As you look at your bleeding knee in pain you say “fuck I think a nail from the ladder scratch me or something”

“You are bleeding a lot let me take you to the nursery” he puts a towel on you and hands you your shirt.

“Let me help you” he puts his arms around you helping you walk to the nurse office of the camp.

You walk into the quiet room and sit on the bed, putting on your shirt and feeling the cold air. Ethan looks around for something to clean you up with. You glance at Ethan and appreciate how caring he is, taking care of you. He sits in front of you, applying antiseptic on a cotton ball and gently approaching your wound.

"Thankfully, it doesn't look too severe, there's just a lot of blood," he says. You flinch in pain as the antiseptic stings your wound. "I'm sorry," he says.

"Not your fault, Ethan," you reply. You gaze down at him, admiring him. He is still shirtless, and you notice his freckles and moles spread all over his chest.

"You've got moles and freckles everywhere," you gently trace them. He looks up at you, smiling, and you can't help but admire his brown eyes. "Your eyes have a little bit of yellow in them, it's almost golden in the sun," you say. Ethan's cheeks blushed a little, and you could swear you heard his heart pounding. After he finishes cleaning the wound, he puts a band-aid on it, gently caressing your knee.

“Why do you have so many bruises?" he asks.

"I'm a little clumsy," you laugh.

"I see that," he chuckles softly. He is still caressing your knee, and with his other hand, he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your hair is still wet, and his touch is warm.

Your stomach is all in knots as you look into each other's eyes, feeling the tension between you and Ethan, wanting to taste him.

It has to be broken. Suddenly, Ethan traces your lips with his thumb; he is dangerously approaching them now, just a few centimeters between the two of you.

Your lips meet his, your right hand is in his hair, and your left one is grazing his jaw, feeling the butterflies in your stomach.

His hand is still on your knee, caressing it gently. As the kiss deepens, he puts his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a gasp, which allows him to push his tongue inside your mouth.

He pulls you closer until you are sitting on his lap, kissing his neck. He lets out a little whimper as he strokes the sides of your hips.

You stroke his bare chest, feeling his muscles. It is now your turn to whimper as he kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, “Feeling better?”

“Much better; thank you, nurse,” you whisper back.

[soapymansuds]

Eternity and Counting

(Pt1) This is a running piece I've nearly finished, but the whole thing is way too long to post as one chapter sooooo... This part's pretty short just for the sake of timeline splitting.

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad, everybody is crying like all the time

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.

(Takes place in the Frost Flowers event (sorta?), with mild "that chapter where MC finds out they're the Bridge" spoilers. Can't remember which chapter that was.)

~/\~

It's so heavy. This grand weight I've been lugging around since that day. I should have died. I was supposed to die. I would have deserved it too. All I've ever managed to do was cause problems for this family. And maybe I still am. The idea almost stopped me. Visions of their faces. Their tears. Their grief. It did, actually. A few times at least. But not today. It's happened again. Everything was going just fine until that God-forsaken dog decided I would be the object of his affection. Somehow, in spite of the threat it faced to the nation, the brothers refused to just hand me over. Almost losing not just their home, but their kingdom, for my sake. Yet again wasting their time trying to save me. Just like they did when my stupid power nearly killed Lucifer. When Lucifer nearly killed HIMSELF to save me. A bitter, evil part of me is still mad at Michael for stopping me. For saving me.

My arms feel heavy as lead as I lay here, counting away the seconds. I've got nearly an hour before anybody gets home from RAD. Plenty of time to make sure I stay dead. I feel a little bad for lying about being sick to get out of classes today. But maybe I am. Doesn't matter much now anyway. Really, my biggest concern in the current moment is how long it will take Barbatos to notice the ingredients I took. Sure, he's in classes right now too, but he pops in and out of the castle all day long. The likelihood of him stopping into the kitchen and noticing the cracked cabinet door, the scavaged shelves, and finally the open jars is uncomfortably high. In my defense, the chances of that happening while I was there were equally high, so I can't be blamed for the messy crime. But he's only got a few moments more before his discovery will be for naught, so I suppose it's not terribly worrying.

I can feel it, creeping up my spine like a cold massage. The ever-growing numbness. The slow death of my limbs. My lungs. Me. It's growing darker now, unnaturally so, even for The Devildom. I can finally free them of my burden. Free myself of it too. But I would like to offer a final scorn to whatever God allowed me to hear the gentle creaking of the front door.

~/\~

(Mammon's POV)

A chill runs through my spine,like something ominous is lurking behind me, but as I turn around, nobody's there. In spite of that comfort, I can't shake this overwhelming dread coating my nerves and sinking into my bones, urging me to move. Driving me to jog home. The gentle sway of the bag on my arm becoming notably more violent as it begins swinging by my side.

My hands can't work fast enough as I try to unlock the front door. I break into a near sprint as I approach their door, slamming it open.

"MC?" I call, it's dark in their room, but I can just make out the shape of their body resting in their bed. "Oh, you're just sleeping." I mumble, walking up to their bed and setting the bag on the ground next to it.

"Hey, I gotcha some human world medicines." I whisper, pulling a few bottles from the bag. "C'mon, you gotta wake up and take some."

I can't help but roll my eyes at their lack of reaction. "Been spending too much time with Belphie." I reach up to shake their shoulder gently.

Nothing happens. So I try again, fingers gripping just barely tighter. Tight enough to feel the unsettling chill of their skin. It seeps through my fingertips and into my soul. Gripping my heart in white hot fear.

"MC, wake up." I shake them again. "MC." Their name falls from my lips like a plea. "MC please-" I grab their other shoulder. "MC!" Tears spill from my eyes, breath shaky and ragged. "Wake up!"

(Raghhhh, sorry about this)

-Your dear friend, the author

[vienssunshine]

Obviously It's Cold in the Wintertime

pairing: Josh Washington x gn reader sfw word count: 2.3k alternate universe: no Josh prank author’s comment: Until Dawn is the ideal choice for one of my favorite tropes: needing to be close for warmth/body heat.

The lodge is freezing.

You hold the quilt tight to your shivering body, trying to pull it closer than it already is, but the winter air is uncaring. It slips under your quilt and settles over you like an additional blanket, not one of comfort, but ice.

The only clothes you packed to face the harsh winter up on the mountain were ones you’d wear outside, like your puffer jacket or beanie. You didn’t think you’d need to prepare for the weather inside as well, and your choice of sleepwear—athletic shorts and a baggy t-shirt—reflects that.

You wish Josh had reminded you that despite his family’s profuse wealth, their lodge has no central heating. But, you can’t blame him for your mistake, and he's had a lot going on anyway. Regardless, you’ll still have to bother him about your situation because, despite your best efforts, it's impossible to fall asleep like this.  

Sitting up in your bed, you pull the quilt off your legs, removing the little warmth it provided. There’s a relief, though fleeting, from the pervasive cold when a tingle of excitement shoots down your spine from knowing you’re about to go see Josh, alone, and at night.  

Your hand reaches out into the dark to search the top of the nightstand for your phone, finding and turning it on after a few seconds of fumbling around. You click on the phone's flashlight—there’s no electricity in this place, either—and use it to find your slippers and the guest room door. 

The glow from your phone does little to demystify the dark, empty void staring back at you when you pull the door open. It’s an intimidating task, to navigate the endless twists, turns, and, according to Josh, secret passages of the lodge. Thankfully, the dusty glass of the windows allows the deep blue of the night sky to seep into the cabin and illuminate the general silhouette of things like the main staircase and the circular chandelier hanging above you. 

You make your way through the living room, using your phone to avoid obstacles like couches and tables, and head up the tall staircase. Your footsteps echo through the open air as you climb, but aren’t loud enough to wake anybody up. 

Keeping close to the handrail lining the hallway, you walk down to the last door, Josh’s door, and place a few soft knocks on it.

You hear his voice through the wood. “Yeah?” 

He's awake, perfect. You creak the door open and slip into the room. “Hey, it’s me.” 

“Oh, what a nice surprise,” Josh says, grinning. You return the smile.

You turn off your phone flashlight and walk into his room, having to squint to see where you’re going in the dim light. Josh is sitting on his bed, his back relaxed on a large pillow pressed against the headboard. He’s in pajamas too, a black sweatshirt and flannel pants. The only source of light in the room is a movie projected onto the wall by an old-timey camera set up by his side of the bed. He flicks a button on the top of the camera, pausing the movie, and turns to you. 

“So, what can I do for you?” he asks. 

“Hmm?”

Josh tilts his head, “There must be some reason you’re in my room at,” he glances at his phone, “two in the morning.” 

“Oh, right. I came to see if you had any extra blankets or something? It’s, uh, really cold in my room.”

A mischievous smile. “Y’know, I bet I could help warm you up. No blankets necessary.” 

“I’m serious, Josh,” you respond, rolling your eyes. Though you don’t betray it, his comment, cliché as it may be, sends a tingle similar to earlier up your back. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, throwing his hands up, “I’ll be serious.” 

“Thank you,” you respond. It’s not that you would mind if he kept flirting with you, it’s just that you need to warm up, you're barely able to feel your fingers.

Josh runs his eyes over you. “Well, no matter what I do, you’re still gonna be cold in that,” he says, giving your PJs a disapproving look. 

You shift your weight under his gaze. “Yeah, well, I forgot there’s no heat up here,” you say.

“Rookie mistake,” Josh laughs, standing up from his bed and walking around it to reach the dresser made of dark wood on the other side. He pulls the middle drawer open by its antique handles and takes one of his sweatshirts out, bringing it over to you. “This should help.”

As he hands it to you, your fingers brush his. “Wow, you do feel cold,” he remarks. 

“What, did you think I was lying?” you tease, giving him a light push. “Thanks for the sweatshirt.” 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, watching you pull it over your head.

The extra layer was a good call, you aren’t shaking anymore. You note another benefit of the sweatshirt: it smells just like him.

“That’s so much better,” you say, and a pleased smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And the extra blankets? Are there any?” you ask. 

He rubs his neck, “Right, about that…”

“Oh, are there none in the lodge?” you say, holding the edges of the hoodie to your face, trying to warm your ears. 

“Well, no…see…” Josh says, “I already gave the extra blankets to Mike.”

You frown. Mike. Your friend group isn’t full of angels, but you have a particular dislike for Mr. Class President.

With a huff, you say, “I don’t see why you did that, I’m sure he and Jess can keep plenty warm together.”

“Mike said he needed all the blankets to make his room a cozy, romantic love den. His words, not mine. My hands were tied, I had to help a bro out.”

Your brows furrow, still baffled by how Mike managed to convince Josh to give him every single blanket there was to spare. That conniving, silver-tongued little-

“But hey,” Josh says, “You can just take some of mine.” He steps back and gestures to the bed with his hand. 

“I’m not taking your blankets, Josh,” you answer, despite how persuasive the chilled air is being.

“C’mon, you’re freezing,” he insists, picking your hand up from your side, “Your fingers are as cold as ice.” 

Unlike yours, his hand is warm. You press your lips together, your heart in your throat from a simple touch that feels nicer than it should.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, pulling your hand away. “Really. I don’t want to take your blankets from you.” 

He looks at the bed, then you, the bed, and then back at you. “Okay, we can share instead,” he says with a shrug, as if his suggestion were no big deal.

Your eyes widen. “Um…are you serious?” you ask. 

“Didn’t I promise I was going to be serious from now on?” he says. When you don’t move, he continues, “Really, I don’t mind. I’d actually love to have someone to watch this movie with.” He smirks before finishing with, “If it’s not too scary for you.”

You scoff, self-consciousness forgotten. “I’m not scared of some movie.” 

“I don’t believe you,” he teases, sitting down on the bed and moving over to make space.

“Really,” you insist, “I’m not.” 

“Then come join me,” he says, patting the spot next to him.

Your eyes run over the soft bedding with the same caution you’d have for a battlefield. Then, a step forward takes you to the edge of the bed, and you lower yourself down onto the mattress. Josh waits until you kick off your slippers and slide under his comforter before unpausing the movie, a small, victorious smile on his lips. You’d usually be more annoyed, hating to lose, but gratitude takes over as the gentle warmth of the blankets begins to ease the edge of the cold off you.

Josh’s bed is huge, so you’re able to sit a reasonable distance away from him. You doubt a similar thought crosses his mind because, unlike you, he doesn’t seem to think sharing a bed is anything to be worked up about: he’s spread out on his side of the mattress, back against the pillows, hands behind his head.

You steal glances at him, noticing how his broad chest rises and falls with his gentle breaths. He looks so comfortable; it makes you want to close the distance, to have your body pressed to his side and your head resting on his warm chest. Sudden heat singes your ears and you look away from him. As far as you know, this is platonic, just a friend helping a friend keep warm. 

A gargled roar emits from the speaker. Though the volume is down, it’s still enough to draw your eyes to the blob monster displayed on the flickering projection. It’s closing in, bubbling and gurgling towards a damsel whose dress is caught on a tree branch. Even with all that action, the movie does little to distract you from the fact that the guy you have a thing for is tucked under the same sheets as you, only an arm’s reach away. 

“I’m surprised you’re up this late,” you comment, launching yourself out of your thoughts. “And watching a movie that’s not scary at all.”

“Just wait, the worst part hasn’t even happened yet,” he says, leaning over to give you a playful nudge. His eyes remain fixed on the flickering screen as he finishes responding. “And yeah, I couldn’t really fall asleep, so I put something on.” 

“Too cold for you, too?” you ask.

“Nah, temperature’s fine. It’s just, y’know, being up here again…”

Of course. You should have known. 

You look down to your hands in your lap. “It’s probably a lot. I’m sorry, Josh. Really.” 

“I appreciate it,” he says, letting out a deep breath as if he’s trying to exhale the weight on his chest. “I’m glad you’re all with me, it’s easier dealing with what happened.”

“We’re here for you.” You move a hand from your lap to his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I’m here for you. Anything, Josh.” 

“Thank you,” he says, his hand covering yours. “It means a lot to me that you’re saying that. I hope you know I’d do the same for you.” You nod, his kind words making your heart melt like candle wax. “Speaking of, are you feeling any warmer? Your hand, it still feels-” 

You drop your hand back down to the blanket, noticing that, though you haven’t shivered since you put on the sweatshirt, your fingertips still feel dull, unable to fully sense the softness of the cloth. “It’s a little better, but I’m still pretty cold,” you admit.

“Well, I can’t have you freezing to death,” he tells you. 

“That might ruin the trip,” you say with a small laugh.

“You’re right. I would get in so much trouble.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble because of me.” You tilt your head, a bashful smile spreading across your face. 

He takes a second to drink in everything the faint light of the movie reveals of your expression. “Good thing I have a solution to our problem.”

“Yeah?”

His response is one that diverges from his typical flirty comments as it comes out softer, a little hesitant, even. “You could come closer.”

You eye him, waiting for him to reveal his bluff. But his gaze remains steady, so you repeat his words back to him slowly as if you were trying to figure out which part he isn’t sincere about. “You want me to come closer?”

He chuckles. “Somebody’s nervous.” Josh lets his arms spread atop the row of pillows behind him, opening himself up to you. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he grins, “hard.” 

“Alright, pack it up, cornball,” you say, lifting up the comforter and scooting closer to him, stopping just an inch or two before your thigh touches his.

“You know you love it,” he says.

“Shut it, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you shoot back, reclining until your back meets his arm and the pillows it lies atop of. The hard muscle of his bicep contrasts with the plushness of the pillows, but it doesn’t make you any less comfortable, in fact, you like this position more than how you were earlier.

Being close to him, nearly in his arms, feels better than you expected. The warmth of his body and the steadiness of his breath conjure up a calm haze that settles over you like a spell. You work hard to stay focused and upright, wanting to finish the movie and talk to him some more. But you're exhausted, so as he's explaining the foreshadowing from the first act of the movie, you end up leaning into him, your head falling onto his shoulder and your hand onto his chest. He doesn’t say anything, but his arm shifts behind your back, and then his hand is on your head, petting your hair. Your eyes flutter shut, everything around you fading out aside from the soothing feeling of his touch. 

“Sleepy?” he whispers down to you.

“Mhmm,” you mumble back. 

“Do you want to sleep in here tonight? It’s much warmer.”

“Can I?” you ask, nuzzling your cheek into his shoulder. He’s just so comfortable, it would be so terrible if you couldn’t stay. 

“Of course you can,” he responds. You can hear the smile in his voice and it sends a small wave of warmth through your body.

You move your head so it rests on his chest, your fingers sprawled out just a bit lower, mindlessly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Staying awake is getting harder and harder as the gentle strokes on your head coax you to sleep, and eventually, you give in.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still curled up next to Josh, and he is still asleep. He has been going through a lot this past year, but as the light of dawn trickles through the window and onto his face, he looks the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

not a specific prompt im just a whore for kas!eddie being utterly obsessed w Regular Guy steve harrington & i think it'd be funny if they tried to just have a normal hangout w the party & eddie absolutely cannot be normal & just like gargoyles around or something

sorry about the wait, writer's block hit me pretty hard again but i did it!!! i hope it's to your tastes and that you have a very happy birthday!!!

So here's the thing.

Eddie could have been a vegetarian.

It was a whole thing when he was like thirteen years old and had just watched a very, very terrible movie that involved a lot of gore and too many metaphors about chickens. It fucked him up so bad that he refused any of Wayne's meat-infested meals, from pies to hot dogs to fucking sandwiches.

He did end up caving after one too many weeks of hiding in his room when the smell of delicious, juicy steak (it wasn't really a steak but fuck if he knew the difference) wafted around the trailer. He cried the entire time while he ate but Wayne pat him on the head and said he was still proud of him for making it that far.

Anyway, the point is Eddie could have sworn to look at nothing but vegetables and grass his whole life.

He's never been so glad that he didn't.

Not when Steve, the absolute fucking dork that he is, is eating his burger in the messiest way possible just to prove to Robin that he could do worse.

 Eddie can't tear his eyes away.

The way the dark, twilight blue of that Henley somehow makes his skin look that much warmer, the way his smile is riddled with sauce and lettuce, the way his eyes squeeze shut when -

"You can't eat Steve."

Eddie blinks, and turns his head to find Dustin with his arms crossed, his face squished into a grim expression.

Eddie tilts his head.

"I'm serious, you promised you wouldn't eat anybody -"

"I don't want to eat Steve," Eddie rasps out, his tail flicking against the wall. It's cold, the surfaces of everything in this house is too cold. He's almost desperate enough to burrow his way into the couch, just so he can soak up the warmth of Steve and Robin, even if their eating habits are disgusting.

Dustin glances at Steve, who's already got a tissue and is jamming into Robin's cheek with a laugh, and frowns at Eddie. "You're sure? Because you've been staring at him like, all day."

Sighing, Eddie resettles himself on the island counter so he's sitting cross-legged and continues to watch Steve. "I know."

There's a pause.

"That's it?" Dustin says incredulously. "That's all you have to say?"

"Have you ever seen someone so intrinsically against everything you've ever believed in that's somehow also the exact poster child for what you should aim to achieve?"

He hears Dustin blink. "What -"

"He's just so -" Eddie flails a hand, his tail mirroring the motion. "Benign! And yet, he possess the strength, the fearlessness of a man on the battlefield -"

"Why are you using your DM voice -"

"And yet again, he will sit there, with a perfect swoop to his hair, an innocence to his eyes and a delicate sweetness to his tongue and he will ask that you believe him to be harmless."

Another pause.

"Okay, that was a little weird -"

"And you will!" Eddie leaps onto his feet, standing above Dustin with power raging through his veins as the head rush of a monologue captures him. "You will believe that fine, gracious man to be harmless! As long as you don't - look - back."

"Eddie, get down from the counter."

With a laugh, Eddie spins and his tail wiggles a hello to Steve, who looks up at him with his exasperated, innocent eyes. "My liege," Eddie says, hopping down only to slink into Steve's space and wrap his tail around his bicep. "How goes the competition?"

"Robin won -"

"As usual!" said-bird calls out from the living room.

"Yeah, as usual," Steve repeats with a lovingly snarky tone. Eddie's tail tightens. "What have I said about standing on tables, Eddie?"

"Oh but sire," Eddie murmurs as he circles Steve, ducking down just to pout up at him. Yeah, he knows the power of his big brown eyes, he knows how to use 'em. "I was simply delivering an informative, nay, crucial declaration of your -"

"Eddie."

He switches tactics. "I won't do it again?"

"You fucking better not," Steve mock-glares down at him and oh, that's a look to think about later. Hooking a finger under Eddie's tail, where it's curled around his skin, Steve gently pulls it off and walks to the sink, the warmth of his finger sending shivers down Eddie's neck.

There is a moment of silence.

"You can't fuck Steve either, by the way, it'd be like - weird. For a lot of reasons. Not because you're guys -"

"For fuck's sake, Henderson -"

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Hear me out!

Sam’s killer side is more dormant and her bloodlust is out of control and she’s feeling the overwhelming need to kill someone. By this point, she’d stopped trying to fight it. Reader is a friend/girlfriend who knows enough about Sam and her urges to offer her a substitute; letting her fuck you stupid. As kinky as you can think of with sprinkles of blood play, knife play, heavy degradation and praise. Sam 100% has a strap, she just does and loooooves to make her choke on it. You didn’t really believe Sam would hurt anyone and you’d never seen her kill anybody first hand before but by the time she was finished with you, you knew that she was far more than capable and the thought of that was nothing short of a turn on.

Oh, Anon. You were the first person to submit for the Ghostface Sam fic prompts, and you nailed it in one. So here we are! My first Sam Carpenter fic! And the first fic of the new year! Let's get into it, I hope this is dirty enough for you!

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.8K. Ghostface! Sam Carpenter X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Blood. Mentions Of Murder. Begging. Oral Sex. Cunnilingus. Face Sitting. Cum Eating. Strap On Sex. Spanking. Knife Play. Blood Play. Knife Used As A Makeshift Sex Toy. Multiple Orgasms. Squirting. Praise. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Rough Sex. Sam Is Mean. You Love It. Edging. Mild Orgasm Denial. Asking For Permission.

---

"Make It Hurt."

---

The itch is becoming completely unbearable. How is she meant to cope with this? Nothing is able to keep her mind off the intense want to maim and destroy. 

She should be happy. Her last spree went so well, she got away scott-fucking-free, everyone views her as the helpless survivor of an attack when in reality she did it and framed the real victims. It’s been months, far too long, and she is feeling the urges bubbling up inside of her once again. She can’t go around killing without some sort of plan, it’s just asking to get caught and if she ends up in jail then she’ll never get to again. A complete nightmare, and one she wants to do everything possible to prevent. 

It is to the point she is having trouble sleeping. Other hobbies are dull and lifeless, she has low motivation, food is bland, her mind is just consumed with thoughts of running through warm bodies with cold steel, of slicing, cutting, draining every single last drop of blood from a person. She needs to plan appropriately so she can hopefully satisfy her bloodlust, but she’s waited too long, the planning stage isn’t working as it normally is, it’s not fun, it’s frustrating her even further. She doesn’t want to plot, she just wants satisfaction now, she wants to feel the hot spray of blood hitting her face, soaking into her clothes, she isn’t able to pull the creative resources she needs from herself to do what the job would require, the well is dry. 

You wake up to find her side of the bed empty and long gone cold, rolling over your check your phone, it’s past 3 AM. You groan and sit up, why isn’t she in bed? Furthermore, you’d insisted she get some sleep with you tonight, she’d been up late a lot this week, and you could see how restless and antsy she was getting, irritable and unable to keep her mood even. You get out of bed, pausing to get your robe off the hook on the back of the door, you pull it on and tie up the belt at your waist as you leave to go find her. 

Sam is unable to sleep, she’s in the living room in the dark, a favoured gore fest of a horror movie on the TV and her favourite knife in her hand. She has her feet up, one hand is playing with a lock of her hair curling it around her finger, winding and unwinding it over and over, the opposite hand occupied with flipping the knife, a casual but impressive trick, the flick of her wrist practised, natural, complete muscle memory. She is still dressed in what she wore to bed, braless in the well fitting and tight white t-shirt, cotton dove grey shorts that creep high up her thighs. You lean against the wall and watch her for a moment. 

You know what this is, you can see it in her body language, the tension is radiating off of her. She is unfulfilled, she is craving to hurt, she wants to kill, enact things she is watching on the screen, the desire to spill blood is overtaking her. She is smart, calculating, she knows that now is not the right time, but that doesn’t change the frustration she feels. You wish she could do what she really wanted to, but you know just as well as her it’s a bad fucking idea. 

You knock quietly on the wall, and it makes her react immediately, sitting up, even more tense, she stops flipping the knife, gripping the handle, her head turns and upon seeing you she relaxes slightly. She slumps back into her original position, still holding the knife, she says quietly, “Hey.”

You walk over, returning her greeting, “Hey yourself.” Taking the seat next to her, you look over to her, a hand rests on her thigh, and you ask, “You okay?” 

“Can’t sleep.” She sighs, and you laugh lightly, your hand squeezes her thigh, “Yeah, I can see that.” 

“Sorry, I know you hate waking up alone I just, I couldn’t keep lying in bed awake-” Her dark brown eyes meet your gaze, and you lean closer, shushing her, “Stop that, you’ve got a lot on your mind right now clearly, stop worrying so much about me.” 

You are much more concerned about her than yourself, you adjust, one knee on the couch, you lean over further, one hand still firmly on her thigh and the other on the backrest of the couch. “I know what’s up with you-” 

A dip of your head, your lips brush hers, a small peck before you pull back, continuing your thought, “-all pent-up, like you are locked in a cage, unable to do what you really want.” 

She leans up, steals a kiss, and you indulge her momentarily before breaking it again, “We both know you can’t, not till you relieve some of this stress, so…”

Your hand leaves her thigh, fingers curl around her wrist and pulling up her hand, you have her slip her fingers through the opening of your robe over your chest, let her get a handful of you, arching closer into her touch you offer yourself up, “Take it all out on me.” 

Her breath hitches, she doesn’t pull away, in fact her touch gets bolder, greedier, feeling you up, your lips barely an inch apart as she responds, “Baby, I can’t do that, I’ll hurt you-”

“I want you to hurt me. You need to draw blood to feel better? Why not mine?” Your hand is off her wrist, instead it latches onto her hand, the one holding the knife. Your head moves, gives some more breathing room, you hold the blade to your own thigh, exposed between the folds of your robe, the one you are kneeling on. You press, drag the unyielding silver over flesh, and you gasp from the jolt of pain, both of you watch as the skin splits and crimson begins to drip. Her resolve is splintering, you whimper out, “Please Sam?”

Those two words, that plea, begging, unlocks something in her. Makes some part of her snap, the last vestiges of self-control are abandoned in short order. 

She practically drags you back to the bedroom. 

You think at first she is going to have you on the bed, toss you onto the comforter and plush sheets, no that is apparently too good for you when she is in the mood, and you know that because she tells you as much. She pushes you down onto the dark hardwood floor, your eyes are questioning, which leads her to tell you, “C’mon sweetheart, you told me you wanted it to hurt, and I’m going to give you just what you asked for.” 

She’s standing over you, passing the knife from hand to hand, sadistic smile playing on her lips and as she stares down at you, her look tattles on her thoughts, she's considering what to do with you, playing around mentally with just what she wants to do to you first. You watch as she starts to take her shorts off, knife still in one hand, she drops the fabric onto the floor and then next she is removing that all lace black panties she had on underneath, and you are already salivating at the view of her. 

Your eyes are locked between her legs, you love every single part of her, but you’d be a filthy fucking liar if you couldn’t be honest about how much you adored her bare like this. You roam, from the well maintained patch of black hair to her prominent clitoral hood and the plump lips you could suck and toy with for hours. 

You get your wish, she knows you well and what you are craving. She moves, standing over you and then lowers herself down, her knees on either side of your head as she straddles your face. Hands move on instinct, you reach up and grip her hips, moaning against her as soon as the flavour of her hits your tongue. Swiping up through her folds, getting a better taste before passing over her clit, you hum indulgently and repeat the motion. Over and over, taking care to spend more time focusing on that most sensitive part of her. She is moving her hips, grinding herself down on your lips and tongue, with a deep moan, “Fuck, you are the best little cunt eater around.” 

You preen under her praise, it makes you work harder to please her, sucking deeply, eyes falling closed with another hum that makes her body buck on top of you. She is loving this, riding your pretty face, and you love it too, the taste of her, getting her wetter and wetter, listening to her moans and feeling her thighs clenching around your head. It is bliss, it is your purpose, to be used for her pleasure and enjoyment, nothing is better. 

She reaches back and her fingers press on the cut on your thigh, the blood had slowed significantly and the rush of pain makes you moan louder against her. “What a pain slut you are. I bet if it touched you that you’d be fucking soaked.” 

You know that to be true, your thighs rub together, and you feel the wetness staining them, you want some attention for yourself, but you want to keep pleasing her much, much more. You forget your own leaking cunt and choose to continue focusing on her instead. 

She rolls her body again, her wetness is all over your face, it had started to run down your chin, you feel it on your neck. Your fingers squeeze her hips, and you continue to eat her out, you knew you were affecting her, her dirty talk is becoming more fractured, moaning much more. “God yeah-ugh-there you go, jus-just like that, ohhh, suck that fucking clit like you mean it.” 

Her body starts to react in that way that you know all too well, tensing, breath coming in shorter gasps. She hadn’t even been riding your face for that long, but you were exceptionally skilled at this, had more than enough practice and knew how to get her off quickly, adept at giving her powerful orgasms with nothing more than your mouth. Knowing much better than to stop now, you keep going, unrelenting, feverish, you continue your current action, having pulled her clit into your mouth, tongue flicking over it while it is encased in the wet heat of you and in less than a minute more you are rewarded with her cumming on your face. You never grew tired of this, of her shuddering on top of you through her release, the minute movements as she wrung out every bit of sensation she could, the near guttural moan of your name that would pass through her lips. 

It made you leak more, clench around nothing, long to feel the same.

Her body becomes still, but her breathing is still erratic, she raises up on her knees a little to give you some breathing room. You are staring up at her, you watch with rapt interest as she removes her shirt and tosses it, leaving her totally naked still on top of you. She is looking back down at you, a half smile playing on her features, one that is dangerous. She sets the knife down on the floor, and you know better than to even think about going for it. After a moment more to recover, she is getting up, ordering you firmly to, “Stay.”

You do as you are told. Laying there on the floor as you watch her move, she steps over you and out of your line of sight, you don’t even dare to turn your head to follow where she goes. You hear the opening of some drawers, you know what she is after. You hear her speak from somewhere behind you, “Strip.” 

Hands scramble, rushing to comply, you take your robe off and toss it into the far corner of the room, leaving you totally bare. Sam insists you sleep naked, much prefers having you open and exposed, something you do not mind at all and do for her willingly. The floor feels hard and cool against your back, you have no real time to rest, you hear her footsteps coming close again and then there are fingers in your hair, they twine and twist, she pulls, tugging hard, “On your knees' whore, now”

You suck in a harsh inhale through your teeth, the sharp stab of pain radiating down the base of your skull, and you do as asked, getting up onto your knees, her firm hand guiding you. She’s back in your field of vision now, and she’s gotten her favourite toy to use with you, her strapless strap on. 

It is dark purple and looks striking, totally stunning against her skin, it’s long and thick as it sits heavy between her legs, jutting outwards, it’s ribbed and whenever she has you it fills you up beautifully, hits all the best spots. In short, it makes you into a totally blissed out well fucked mess whenever she fucks you with it. With no straps, the way it is secured is with a curved and rather bulbous end that she inserts into herself, gives her something to clench on and when she gets into a good rhythm with fucking you it presses over and over into her g-spot. Further still, the toy contours and curves with her body, a textured pad right behind the shaft that pushes against her clit, giving her a completely perfect way to stimulate herself with ease while she is fucking you, every thrust in and pull out, hitting her both externally and internally. 

You knew this next part very well. You needed to prep her strap for you to take it, you were soaked, totally dripping, but with how rough she was every bit helped. She pulls you near, and you move willingly, mouth opens, and with her other hand on the base of the toy she guides it between your lips. Cool silicone passes over your tongue as you close around it, you bob your head down, taking about half of the toy before pulling back, keeping just the tip between your lips. You loved when she made you blow her, she keeps pulling on your hair, guiding you, making you slide up and down her shaft, coating it in spit as you suck it. “You are so perfect, you know that? Just as cock hungry, right?”

You nod, eyes looking up at her as you work, focusing on blowing her and putting on a good show, but more than that too, when she makes you take it deeper? A hand on the back of your head, forcing you to take it as deep as you could, you choke and gag, when it hits the back of your throat she moans, you know this part feels the best. Whenever the tip of that dildo hits on something more solid, it provides a delectable jolt of pleasure for her. Both her hands are in your hair too, tugging and pulling, leading you to suck, drool is running down, drops landing on your own chest as she picks up the pace, moving her hips, fucking your face. 

You gag so hard you start to tear up, “Pretty, pretty girl, you look best with tears all over that face.”  You loved how she spoke to you, the mix she strikes of praise and degradation, of warmth and filth, it makes your blood sing. 

When you gag again, a bit too hard, that kind of gag that makes your pace falter and the tears finally start to fall she clucks her tongue disapprovingly, “Are you even trying?”

You nod and Sam urges, “Show me then. Prove me wrong.” There is a light slap to your cheek that makes you inhale sharply though your nose and work harder. You want to please her, you do the tricks you know, you try to get a handle on your breathing, you squeeze your thumbs in your fists to help tame your gag reflex, and you push yourself. When she is moaning in that particular pitch, you know you are doing well. 

You are doing so well in fact that she pulls the spit soaked shaft from your mouth, and she pushes you down, “Face down ass up.”

Your face is put down right there, into the mess that has collected, drips of spit and her arousal staining the wood, and your cheek is put into it, and you don’t fight it. She gets behind you, a rough slap to your ass that makes you groan, she loves how it sounds so she lays down a few more as she gets on her own knees. 

“You are leaking everywhere oh my God-” She laughs, but there is no malice in it, she spanks you again, the pain is slight but strong, burning, you take it just as she wants you to and then all of a sudden hurt gives way to ecstasy. She slid inside of you with no issue, complete ease, because just as she said you are drenched. How could you not be, after all the build up and what she said to you? How she treated you. Her hips are flush with your ass, she is completely inside of you, and she moans, grinding herself against you, and you moan too, after inhaling you finally push out that sound showing how good it felt. 

She pulls out halfway before slamming back into you to the hilt, the sensation rockets up your spine, the force of her thrust makes your body move, your cheek drags through the mess it is resting in and you moan. “Awe, you like that?”

You nod weakly, inhaling shakily, and the end breaks off into another choked off sob, “Course you do. You are so nasty, getting fucked face down in a puddle of drool.” She starts an even and steady pace, her hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin on skin filling the space of your shared bedroom. 

“Depraved, disgusting-” She changes the angle, brushes that place inside you that makes your nails bite into the wood below you and cry out, “Right there!”

Another hit to your ass so hard that you yelp, she degrades you further, “I know where it is. You are stupidly easy to please, then again, all bitches like you are.” 

“Sam, oh my God-” You gasp, and she laughs, “Sam, oh my Godddd-” she taunts, parroting back what you said, letting you really hear how needy and pathetic you are. 

“Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?” She asks, and you moan out, “Noo-ooohhhh-” 

“Course you aren’t, you’ve got entirely no shame.” She muses, her breathing is picking up as she is slamming into you, knowing she has found a particularly good rhythm that is working for her just as well. You are so consumed with everything she is doing to you that you don’t hear the sound of metal scraping, you don’t register her picking up the knife. 

You feel it. 

She cuts, desperate to harm and see more blood. The cuts are quick, light, surface level and each one is punctuated with another brutal thrust into you. One over your hip, outer thigh, the curve of your breast, you sob from each cut, hiccuping and wet and moan, deep and long from each hit of the head of her false cock on that swollen spot inside of you. The blood pours, it joins the mess on the floor, she presses her fingers to the wounds, causes more pain, you clench around her, she holds pace, but it gets messier, sloppier, she’s going to cum and you are so fucking close. 

You are a pain slut, but the bright bursts of hurt are keeping you on the opposite side of the edge, she can tell, you are struggling, crying, desperate, “Awe, you havin’ trouble cumming baby?”

“Ye-yes!” You whine, she tsk’s, “Need some help?”

“Puh-lease?!” You don’t give a shit how pathetic you sound any longer, all you know is the intense and all consuming need to cum already. You are dripping down your thighs, totally frustrated and keyed up, you feel like if you don’t cum soon you might die, it’s hard to breathe, as if you are drowning, choking on sensation itself. 

“Okay, I’ll help you, sweet thing.” You feel her move, her tits press into your back, her arms loop around you, one around your middle, over your waist and the other hand, the one still holding the knife is between your legs. The smooth and rounded end of the knife is dragged over the fresh cut on your thigh, it hurts, you yelp again, she catches the mess of blood, and then it is pressed to you. She used the blood for lube, the end of the knife was being pressed to your straining clit, she moves it in tight circles in time with her thrusts and having both spots abused inside and out has you falling apart in less than ten more thrusts. 

You don’t forget yourself, still, before you do tip over, you are good, you ask, “Sa-Sam, close, please? Fuck, fuck, please?!” It spills out in a rushed babble, breathless, she is panting too, and you can tell by the tone of voice in her reply she is near her end too, “Fuck yeah, good girl do it, you’ve earned it-”

That’s more than you need for it to happen. You cum so hard, you make a mess, moaning incoherently and loud enough you are positive you will get a noise complaint, thighs feeling like they will give out, shaking, sweaty, bloody, cunt spasming around her shaft still driving in and out of you as you squirt onto the floor. 

She loves when she makes you squirt, she is fucking you through your complete high, the mess is on her too, running down her toy and over her own slit, down her thighs, and it is enough to make her reach her end too. Your name stains her tongue as she peaks and holds deep, she grinds through the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body feels heavy and weak, the only thing holding her up is you. She doesn’t relent, over stimulation starts to set in, and you beg, “Stop, fuck-”

She drops the knife onto the floor, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Her hips have completely stopped, she is just sitting inside of you. Both of you are catching your breath, you ask, “Feeling better?”

“It’s a start.” She hums, and you laugh lightly, eyes falling closed, she slowly pulls out, and you wince slightly, feeling fucked out and sore in the best way, “Don’t get too comfortable, you have to clean me up still.” 

You knew she meant not only the end that was just inside you, but the one that was still resting snugly inside of her. 

[northsoulss]

2.30am - alessia russo

(a/n : recycled this from one of my older fics lol)

tossing and turning, alessia rolls around, trying so hard to get comfortable before realising she is wide awake. she shakes her head, hoping its just a momentary thing before closing her eyes again, forcing herself to fall asleep.

we all know how that will go. it doesn’t work and alessia finds herself frustrated, wishing so badly she could sleep as soundly as you.

she peels her eyes open, finding it difficult to adjust to the darkness that surrounded her. she turned over to see your back facing her, small movements of your head, and the rising and falling of your chest was telling that you were in deep sleep.

alessia's lips quirked upwards, hand reaching out to caress your cheekbone, the only part of your face peeking out of the blanket. you sighed contently from her touch, sinking further into the blanket, shielding your face entirely from her.

she giggled silently, giving you a light peck on the top of your hair before moving to the edge of the bed, feet lying flat on the cold floor. “what time is it,” she whispered to herself, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to make herself fully awake.

looking over to the clock that was on the bedside table, it read ‘2.30am’ with a red glow. she was lucky she was off the next day, if not she would rather knock herself out with the closest object on your desk.

creeping her way to the kitchen, she flailed her hands, moving them haphazardly to try to find the light switch. when she turns it on, she wishes she never stepped one foot out of the bed. she could be cuddling up with you right now, but instead, she decides that baking would be a better option.

“shit, it's so bright.” she grimaces, rubbing her eyes once more, trying to get rid of the fuzzies in her line of sight.

she walks to the kitchen island and squats down to get a tray, still unsure of what to make to pass time. unfortunately, she got distracted, thinking about what she would do on her off day, causing her fingers to slip, making the tray crash loudly.

“fuck.” the harsh metallic ringing caused her to freeze like a deer in headlights. she quickly picks it up and sets it on the countertop, and freezes again when she hears the bedroom door creak open.

you creep out of your room groggy as fuck, armed with your physics textbook, fully expecting to see masked men with bags full of your items; but instead, you see alessia with her hand pressed firmly onto the kitchen countertop, a sheepish grin on her face.

“what the hell are you doing? it's late.” grumbling, you clumsily make your way to her, taking her hand and trying to drag her back into the room. instead, she stays rooted to the ground, a pleading look in her eyes.

“what?” you question, knowing fully that she wants to do something, but since she woke you up, a little bit of teasing ain’t gonna hurt anybody.

“let’s bake?” she waves the tray in the air enthusiastically, eyes sparkling. you caved despite how your warm bed was calling for you, wordlessly reaching up to take the flour from one of the cabinets.

“alright, what are we making?” she lights up even more, like the human version of the sun. she breaks out in a huge smile before pulling you to her and squeezing you in a bear hug.

“thank you, baby! also, we are making choco chip cookies.” she presses multiple pecks to your lips, muttering another quick thank you before taking all the necessary items to bake with.

“can you pass me the chocolate chips?” you stretch out your hand without looking at alessia, only to feel her chin on your palm instead, a cheeky grin plastered on her lips. you couldn’t help the amused smile that crept onto your face — she was just so cute, you wanted to squeeze her face.

you gave in to your cuteness aggression and squished her cheeks together, earning a grunt from her.

“okay, okay. have your choco chips.” she hands you the packet before going back to mixing the cookie batter, a love-sick expression creeping on her face the moment she had her back turned to you.

the night went on with the cookies nearly getting burnt, nearly burning your hand taking out the cookies from the oven, and spilling flour nearly all over the kitchen that alessia promised she would clean the day after.

you both collapse onto the couch with a glass of milk in hand and freshly baked cookies on a plate at the coffee table. “thank you.” you hear from her, turning to your right to look at alessia, her eyes curved and dimples showing.

“what for?” she pretends to think before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, rubbing small circles on your knee. she pulls away too quickly, kissing your forehead and stuffing a cookie into your mouth which you gladly accept.

“for everything.”

©️northsoulss 2023, all rights reserved.

[cococaffeinated]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any little headcanons on Jax, Kinger, and Gangle? Like maybe a story on how they bonded or something like that? Also, have a good rest of your day! I love your art!

I keep thinking about Jax and how he might have potentially gotten his key. It's been a source of so many branching possibilities for headcanons! One of the things I've headcanoned is that maybe Jax had received the key from Queenie just before they abstracted. A little token for "just in case". Drabble below and extra thoughts CW: angst, implied abstractification, mentions of Queenie

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

Jax frowned as he looked at his hand, a golden key resting upon it; placed there by the dark queen piece that Kinger took a fancy to. It was the middle of the night, or at least Jax assumed it was. When Queenie entered his room, Jax assumed it was morning and he was being fetched for another adventure, but no one was awake yet, except him and the queen. "What is this?" the rabbit asked. Queenie simply smiled, despite the absence of a mouth, it seemed apologetic. "It's a key!" they replied, and Jax rolled his eyes but not with any real annoyance. "Yeah, I know what a key is, Queenie. This place makes people crazy, not stupid." Jax retorted, nervously twirling the heavy metal object in his hand. "What's this for?" 'It couldn't possibly be for an exit. If it had been, then they would have all gotten out by now.' Jax thought to himself. "It's a key that opens what is closed. It's something I won eons ago when Caine would let us ask for things after winning games and adventures." Queenie explains. This gave Jax no form of reassurance, where was this conversation even going? He furrowed his brow. "Okay..." he says slowly, unsure. Holding the key a little tighter now. "Seems, kinda important, don't ya think, toots?" he finished, trying to lighten the now heavy atmosphere of their conversation. Queenie nods their head once, "It is and that's why I'd like you to keep it... In case anything happens to me." With that Jax raised both hands in mock surrender, in disbelief. He laughed darkly as he shook his head.

"No. No, no. We're not having this conversation, Queenie. I'm not hearing this talk, not from you." Jax felt cold, dread sweeping through him. He couldn't imagine Queenie abstracting. Jax knew it could happen, it happens to anybody who so much as slips away too far into their own mind. Abstraction can happen to anybody, and Queenie was no exception to that. But still... It was hard to imagine. "It's just in my nature to take precautions, Jax. I'm not saying goodbye, this is just me making sure that if anything happens to me..." Queenie insisted. "No." "If anything happens to me, I need someone who's equally grounded to check on the others..." "No! No, I'm not listening to this cr#p, take the d$mn key back—" Jax felt Queenie's hands grasp gently onto his shoulders, he didn't realize he was trembling. A fragile silence passed between them. "Please, Jax." "Why me... If anything happened to you, I don't think I can lose Kinger too... And Gangle's not going to..." "Because I know, in your own way, you care for those two as much as I would, Jax. This key can help you go into rooms that are locked. It always starts with isolation, Always. Remember that. If Kinger or Gangle... or god forbid anyone else starts locking themselves away, even in the morning, you be your obnoxious self and charge right in, you understand?" Jax closed his eyes, pained at the thought of what this favor and responsibility entailed. "Jax, I need you to promise me you'll do this... Jax..." --- "Jax!" The rabbit blinked his eyes open, he looked confused and scared for only a fraction of a second before his eyes focused, and he lazily leered down at Gangle who looked up at him with concern. "Pomni was asking you a question..." She pointed out, Jax simply shrugged, his lazy grin stretching as he stretched his sleepiness away. "Mn, oh yeah? Did you, really? You normally whine so much Pomni, I keep thinking you're a squeaky toy NPC passing through." Voices droned away in his mind as the usual lecture from Ragatha about being mean to others carried on. His eyes casually swept to check everyone's attendance. Everyone was present today, ready for a new adventure to start. 'Good.' He thought, the golden key weighing heavy among the items he secretly carried. ┕━☽【❖】☾━┙ Of course, I don't know how Jax might have gotten the key or keys in the first place. I can't wait for the canon explanations (if any) if TADC ever gets a full season (I'm hopeful)!

Chess is one of my favorite games and knowing that queen pieces are powerful in their own right and can move in any direction, I kept thinking about how the key Jax now has could have belonged to Queenie previously.

And Jax's low-key (haha pun intended) checking on everyone who was left in the circus after Queenie abstracted was one of the many ways Jax became even closer to Kinger and Gangle.

But the little drabble above implies I also headcanon that Kinger, Queenie, and Gangle are Jax's cornerstones, his friends that he grew close to. Enough that when Queenie felt herself starting to slip away, she confided to Jax with the responsibility of checking on their remaining loved ones. It's a heavy responsibility but it's neat to think that Queenie knows that Jax has a certain way of coping with his surroundings that ensures that he'll last longer than most.

Also, imagine:

Jax is the one who gives Kinger the idea of making a pillow fort (an impenetrable fortress). To make it in the middle of the circus. If Jax sees Kinger is there, it puts him at ease that Kinger is still there, wearing his madness just as well as he advised him to (in a previous hc-comic I made) when he first arrived in the circus.

[urmomspersonalwhore]

Cold blood

-Kujou Sara/Reader, NSFW, Strap on use, pegging, Sleepover, Murders, mention of blood, killing, Rough sex, etc…

“No please don't kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!”

You were at a sleepover.

Your friends, Arataki Itto, Kuki Shinobu and the Kamisato siblings. You all had voted on a movie and hurled up together in blankets.

You got up from the couch, struggling a bit since it was so crowded. Though, you managed to get out without tripping or stepping on anybody. Slowly walking to the bathroom, you turned on some lights to help better see as the house was extremely dark.

A sigh left your lips as you turned on the faucet, washing your face. You could never miss a day for your skin hygiene. It is the most important part of your body after all, since everybody sees it. And also, you didn't want any acne to form again.

As the cold water splashed onto your face, you heard a scream.

A blood-curdling scream.

I mean, nothing could've happened…

Right?

So you just brushed it off and thought they were playing around or whatnot.

It was until you heard loud footsteps as if someone was running and even a loud thud was when you locked the door and tried to find either a place to hide or escape.

More screams and cries can be heard while you panicked.

You were in a bathroom after all, where could you go?

So you did the most American move and went into the bathtub, turning around to see if there was a window.

None...

You sat down, holding your legs as your head came down. Tears fell onto your thighs as you sobbed. This is how you die.

You sat there, in tears until you could hear footsteps walking past the bathroom and opening a room. It's time, you slowly and quietly opened the bathroom door and then sprinted out. Instead of going down the stairs like planned, you bumped into someone’s chest. You looked up to only be met with a screaming ghost mask with a black coat. Your heart practically skipped a beat, you wanted to scream so bad.

Well, at least look at the bright side. You gave time for one of your friends in the room to hide.

You stepped back, a hand bracing for a blow from her knife.

But nothing.

Instead, she had pulled your arm, pushing you against her chest once more.

You blushed before yelping as she made you fall, dropping to her knees. Her legs at either side of you.

Your eyes widen, what was she doing?

It was very evident the killer was a woman by, of course, her chest but also such a slim physique despite the strength she held.

Her dagger trailed from your throat to your shirt, cutting it open as the person husked

“Don't even think about screaming or trying to escape.” the sentence was a bit muffled by her mask but still clear.

You nodded, not wanting to anger her.

She stared at your breast before slicing it in half revealing your bare tits. Hardening at the sudden feeling of coldness.

She pulled off her mask, revealing her stern expression with piercing yellow eyes. It was hard to peel your eyes away from them until her rough and callused hands worked their way to massage them, twisting and pulling which earned her some whimpers.

She grinned, you sounded just like a whining puppy with all those sweet noises you gave her.

Sara’s hands moved to tug at your waistband, bringing both your pants and underwear down.

A toothy smile formed at the sight of your surprisingly dripping cunt.

She had to resist herself from fucking you like a dog right then and there.

Her hand teased your clit as she looked up taking in every expression or noise with a smile.

Sticking out her tongue as she gave you kitty licks on your pussy, grinning with sharp canines.

The killer’s tongue then inserted into you, thrusting inside of your tight walls as your hands gripped onto her hair.

You gripped onto her Raven-colored locks, not knowing whether to push or pull Sara.

But ultimately, your thighs wrapped around her, pushing her face deeper into your cunt as you moaned.

Cumming all over her meanwhile, she licked every drop, not wasting one bit.

Her fingers prodded at your dripping entrance, pushing in your sensitive walls.

They slowly entered, brushing against your g-spot before ruthlessly pounding into you.

Sara’s pace never stopped, abusing your pussy until she had your thighs shaking from your second orgasm. Kissing your wet core as your release washed over you, a sigh leaving your trembling lips.

She smiled,

“This is just the beginning, sweet thing.”

A Yelp emitted from you as she picked you up, bringing you to a secluded room.

Forgetting about the people she was going to kill, only focusing on absolutely ruining your body.

Your body fell onto the mattress as she dropped you.

Smiling while she crawled to you, taking off her coat which had revealed her to be wearing combat cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt.

She unzipped her lower clothing, presenting the strap that she had been hiding the whole time.

Your cunt ached, she had been wearing that the whole time?

Teeth biting at your lip as you stared at it, how were you going to take something so big?

She smirked, teasing your pussy with the tip. Rubbing it against you for a while until she slowly pushed in.

Groaning at the feel of your tight walls around her faux cock.

She leaned into you, her mouth next to your ear while heavy Huffs came from her throat.

Sara gave you a few inches before bottoming out, forcing her dick into you with a singular push.

The killer started to pound into you, a hand sliding to grip your neck. Kisses sprawled around your collarbone, with bite marks.

Skin slapping is now being heard from the room alongside the overwhelming scent of sex.

She panted next to your ear, nibbling it from time to time with each thrust.

The cock hitting your spot as she pulled in and out.

Her free hand trailed away from your hip and to the bulge appearing every time her shaft went inside of you, pushing it ever so slightly which resulted in a loud moan from you.

You held her toned shoulders, whimpering as you managed to sob a sentence

“S’close! …Please!”

She chuckled, making your core throb. Yearning for more, you pushed your hips against her to match Sara’s brutal rhythm.

Her groans became more frequent along your moans, the strap stimulating her own cunt.

She became messier, grunting into your ear while she fucks you like a mutt in heat.

You two cum, almost at the same time.

Your nails clawing her back while emitting a sob from how overstimulated you were.

Sara smirks, laying down next to you.

“Wanna be my little helper, doll?”

Note

Sorry this took so long😭

©urmomspersonalwhore — please do not copy, repost or translate onto any other platforms without my permission.

[gnomewithalaptop]

I am once again thinking about my Reverse Falls plot bunny where Canon!Dipper switches places with his Rev Falls counterpart

Just hear me out! Like -- the dynamics would be so good. Because in either universe, the twins know each other better than anybody else, right? They've known each other their entire lives! So they'd obviously realize something was up pretty quickly, but the way that goes down would vary wildly depending on the combo you've got going on

That's why I really want Canon!Dipper in the Reverse universe -- out of the two of them, I definitely think he could "fake it til you make it" a bit longer than Mabel, but I also think the potential dynamics between him and Rev!Pacifica and Rev!Gideon would be fascinating to see play out. Cause like, let's be real: that kid can hold some grudges, and he's pretty pessimistic when it comes to people and second chances (at least compared to Mabel). I can see him having a really hard time wrapping his head around the personality shifts and trusting Pacifica and Gideon with anything -- which would only make things harder, since they'd already be predisposed to hating his guts. But also, just the idea of Dipper trying to navigate a strange world where his family is full of manipulative bastards and the entire town seems terrified of him makes my inner ten-year-old extremely happy

And then the dynamics with Rev!Dipper and Canon!Mabel would be playing out in tandem with all of this. And the script is completely flipped from Canon!Dipper's, because Mabel doesn't go into this knowing something's wrong. She has to figure that out for herself from context cues, and like. I doubt "evil mirrorverse version of my brother" is going to be her first guess right off the bat. So you get extra wiggle room for Rev!Dipper to get situated as a quasi-antagonist and start screwing things up, and you get fun hijinks while Mabel and the gang make several very wrong choices about what's going on with Dipper

And like. Okay, so: I've always interpreted Reverse!Dipper as somebody who's very pragmatic -- he's very much an "ends justify the means" sort of guy. Don't get me wrong, he's not as vindictive as Canon!Gideon, but he also isn't particularly sentimental either. He's lived his whole life in "every man for himself" mode (with some small exceptions for his sister).

And then I think about combining that kind of mindset with Mabel's unstoppable wave of optimism and endless harebrained schemes where she tries to make things better for a person she doesn't even know that well. And I think about Reverse!Dipper being faced with this realization that his world is dark and cold and uncaring because that's how he relates to the world.

Let's be real: at the end of the day, both sets of twins love each other so fiercely. It's just that the Rev Falls kids have gotten caught up in all these manipulation games and power plays, and once you get caught up in that kind of cycle, it becomes harder and harder to get out again. So I can see this swap having a positive shift on both the Rev Falls kids -- taking them away from their lives and showing them that they don't have to interact with the world this way

I'm thinking about Canon!Dipper seeing the humanity in Rev!Mabel and talking to her straight the way he did to Pacifica in Northwest Mansion Mystery. I think about how she hasn't gotten to be a kid because of the Tent of Telepathy's whole Dance Mom schtick, and finally getting it impressed upon her that that isn't normal. I'm thinking about Canon!Mabel showing Rev!Dipper it's okay to trust people and let them in. That he doesn't have to treat the entire world like it's out to hurt him, doesn't need to strike first to make sure the other guy never gets a chance to

Anyway. This got so long but -- yeah. I yearn for the Gravity Falls Mirror Mirror episode that exists only in my mind

[lefaystrent]

Me, Myself, and These Guys Who Kinda Look Like Me Ch. 1

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Thomas/Sides

Summary: It starts with dreams. Then Thomas starts seeing the dream people in the waking world.

Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point.

AKA, Thomas has to acknowledge the six colorful characters in the room, much to their long-awaited delight.

AO3 Link: click here

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It starts with dreams.

The first one, he stands in the middle of his living room. Everything is exactly where he left it, contrary to many of his previous dreams where reality constantly shifts. It's different this time, because it's so real, like he actually stood there with his socked feet on the carpet, lights and lamps on and the windows dark outside. He breathes, and he feels his lungs expand, and he speaks. He talks. There are people standing around him in a semi-circle. One by the stairs, one on the bottom step, a couple in front of the TV, and the others in front of the blinds. And they have distinctive colors and cadences, so vivid in their mannerisms. They argue, they debate, they laugh, they listen.

It starts with that first one, a dream yes, but for some inexplicable reason Thomas finds himself gasping awake in a cold sweat. He throws off his covers and sweeps around the room, unable to get past the nagging sensation that he is not alone.

More dreams persist, to lesser degrees. There is nothing to do about them but experience them. He dreams of horseback riding with a prince, riding fast through wind-swept lands. He lays under a starry night and points out constellations with someone who knows more than he ever could. He bakes cookies and hums 'Sweet Caroline' with another voice keeping harmony. There is wine and he shares a drink with a cloaked, dapper fellow. He falls into the ocean and meets what lurkes beneath, hears cackles beneath the waves. And he lets hands nestle protectively over his ears and tell him to breathe in and breathe out.

For weeks, the images of these- people? They haunt him in his sleep like wisps of smoke. So real in the moment, but fogged over when his eyes open. He tries to recall the things said, their exact expressions, who they remind him of. There has to be a reason they plague his nights. A connection he missed. Why it seems to matter, he doesn't know, only that it did. Incredibly so. Thomas could write off the dreams. If it was just some really specific, lucid dreams he kept having, fine, he can deal. Maybe refer to a dream dictionary, see what might be bugging him in real life.

Then he starts to see the dream people in the waking world.

He's filling his thermos in the kitchen and out of the corner of his eye, he catches a black polo shirt and blue tie. When he looks at the sink, there's no one standing by it. He turns around, but Thomas is definitely alone in his house. He shakes it off. Rationalizes it. Moves on.

He stands in the store, contemplating the pros and cons of protein bars versus candy bars. A yellow hand flashes, and he swears he glimpses a hatted figure., but as Thomas spins around in the aisle, there's just a mom and her kid. No one dressed that formal or intriguing.

Thomas gets together with his friends. They're working on a new video, a music mash-up because those have done well in the past. For a second, he blinks and there's a figure dressed in white and red standing next to a hooded figure, and it's like they're a part of his friend group, just goofing off. But when Thomas blinks again, there's no one standing behind Quil, and Terrance is waving his hand in front of Thomas's face to get his attention.

He goes to bed, dozes and peeks the eyes that stare at him from the open closet door. There's a shine of sequins and jazz hands. Before his heart can start, there's a soothing weight at his side. It reminds Thomas of when he had nightmares as a kid, how his dad would sit at his bedside and tell him goofy stories with the most serious voice. The prescence remains even as he drifts to sleep. It follows him into his dreams.

For weeks, it goes on, and Thomas doesn't know how to bring it up to anybody or if he even should at this point. How does one say, "I think my imagination has dreamed up whacky characters who are now haunting me." They'd tell him he's working too hard, that he should get more sleep, or that he's always been so creative. Worse, they'll think it's more serious. It can't be that serious. It can't be actual hallucinations, right? He's not really interacting with them, and though it feels real for those half-a-seconds, it's not concrete. It's out of focus, and somehow not alarming. Should he be alarmed?

It's a whole mishmash of indecisiveness. It's the American way, to say, "Well I'm not dying, so I don't need to go to the hospital yet." He's just one Floridian man with a lot on his plate, and yeah, maybe he's working too hard, maybe his head had been hurting more lately from all the whiplash of trying to spot the men from his dreams. Maybe he's just going through a weird phase. If he waits long enough, surely...

He works himself to exhaustion. And his head really has been hurting more than usual. It pounds through the back of his head and erupts behind his eyeballs. He's starting to toss and turn more in bed until he gives up altogether. One day, he goes out to meet Joan and Talyn. They take one look at him and send him back home. The bags under his eyes have bags, and they claim they can hang out just fine with him resting at his apartment. And the crowd of colors follow, the ghosts hanging close but always in the peripheral. 

He wants to tear his hair out in frustration at himself. He kind of does think he's going insane.

Then to no one's surprise, he gets sick. Really sick.

The headaches are insufferable. He's running a fever. He doesn't know how high. He lost his themometer at some point and told himself that he would eventually get around to buying another one. He can't leave the house to get another one. Hell, he can barely leave the bed. And he'd be damned if he calls anyone for help. The most he allows is a text to his mom letting her know that he needs to cancel coming over for lunch, that he's staying home to rest. She sends back a series of well wishes and love, and Thomas thinks of how lucky he is to be her son and thinks in spite of himself that she was here to take care of him.

He's never been that good at taking care of himself, and this latest illness brings it into perspective. He's got pills somewhere, Ibuprofen that could bring the fever down and ease the overwhelming ache, but it's like admitting defeat. They haven't been doing anything for his head lately anyway. There's definitely voices edging around him, reminding him of what he should do, how foolish he's being. How if he could only listen...

Thomas rebels and curls up into a shivering ball under his covers.

He doesn't keep track of time. The curtains hanging over his bedroom window are too thick to let much light in anyway. There's darkness, and there's pain. He comes out of another dream, half-awake and bleary-eyed. The pain in his head comes to a blinding, boiling point. It's far too much and Thomas full-out whimpers. Weakly, his body contorts to try to find some relief that he knows is not there.

"Medicine," he hears a voice. He doesn't know if it's one of them or himself begging. The fever has him in a death-grip and he questions if he ever truly woke up. "We've got to get him to take some medicine."

"I'm working on it!"

"I know this situation is worrying, but please try to remain calm. Let me try-"

Thomas gasps as a knife twists inside his skull. He sees little stars and fireworks, and it spins him so off-kilter he thinks he's about to faint or throw up. Belatedly, he realizes that he's crying. A dull panic envelopes him. He regrets not calling for help sooner. He thinks he's dying now. He wants his mom desperately.

"I don't like this."

"None of us like this!"

"He looks pale, like a corpse. Do you think he's dying?"

"Not at all. He's perfectly healthy, don't you see?"

"You're okay Thomas, we're here. I just wish-"

"Logan's got it! He managed to grab it, he's bringing it-"

"Okay, but how do we get him to take the medicine anyway? In case you forgot, we can't touch people!"

"Please don't yell, I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry."

It doesn't make sense, and Thomas isn't entirely convinced the chatter is outside of his head. It's so hot and so cold, and Thomas wishes he knew where he left his phone or how to make his muscles co-operate, or ya know just how to stop his head from exploding.

There's shuffling and the whisper of cloth moving. His bed dips? He swears someone is sitting on his bed right beside him. He hears the subtle swishing of a pill bottle, the cap opening. There's more words being said, but he can't concentrate past the ringing pitch in his ears.

He opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them again. There's something being pressed to his mouth, a pale wrist hanging above his face.

He doesn't think, just grabs the wrist.

Dimly, he's aware that the chatter muffles. Mostly though, his clammy hand has the wrist in a frantic clutch. It's cold, and he kinda wishes he could pull it to his forehead, a cooling balm.

He whines again in misery and a voice clears their throat. Hands touch at his shoulders. First one, hesitant, then more. He's being sat up, and it does nothing but wrench his equalibrium into a joyride. Moaning, he sits in a gasping slump and waits for whatever is to come.

There's a couple of pills forcing their way into his mouth. He doesn't fight it, a part of him realizing someone is trying to help him. They slide past his tongue, and then a water bottle presses to his lips. They tilt his head back to allow him to pull slow sips.

It's not magic. The pain doesn't disappear, and the fever doesn't sporadically abate. He's still a mess, but there are hands lending him strength. They ease him back down on the bed. They right his T-shirt where it's bunched up and shift the covers. They push back his hair, and Thomas wants to weep when a wet cloth settles over his forehead.

There are whispers, soft and sweet and awed.

Drained, he falls unconscious.

***

When he wakes next, the headache is still there. However, it's a low thrum in a way that Thomas hasn't experienced in days. That in and of itself is no small miracle in his eyes.

His fever must have abadated at some point in his rest as well. He finds the covers have been kicked off of him, the vent from the AC blowing against sweat-damp skin. He feels gross and tender, and he can't remember the last time he ate anything substatial or had a proper shower. All in all, he might as well have been a piece of wet laundry that had been beat over a railing and left out to dry.

Can insides be bruised just by sickness alone? he thinks as he blinks lazily. There's the ceiling, white above him. In his room, there's a hush, and he knows even before he sits up that there's a crowd.

His arms shake as he pushes himself up. He's too tired to do anything but stare at nothing in particular. There are six people around in his room. It's not the biggest bedroom, so they're rather sandwiched in where they can.

He recognizes them of course. Thomas first sees the bowler hat. The guy who wears it sits in his only chair in the corner, legs crossed. A man decked out in sparkly green sits on the floor beside him, hair fluffed with a shock of white in the bangs. Standing at the foot of the bed, arms mid-pinwheel, is the prince. He's staring down at Thomas like- well, Thomas isn't really looking at his face, so he's not really sure, but it's like he's cut himself off mid-sentence once Thomas sat up.

There's another figure standing to Thomas's immediate right. It's the black polo shirt and blue tie. Glasses. The man's wearing glasses. Somehow, Thomas never noticed and he doesn't understand why his brain is latching onto this fact as if it's ground-breaking information.

Beside him on the bed sitting criss-cross applesauce is another guy with glasses. It's the one he dreamt of baking cookies with. He's hovering to his left, a hand raised in the air towards him but not going any farther.

"Hey there, Thomathy. Feeling any better?" He's got a polo shirt on too, but light blue. It looks like very soft fabric. The cardigan tied around his neck even softer.

Thomas doesn't react. Doesn't know how he's supposed to react. He still doesn't look directly at any of them, and he's not all the way convinced this isn't another dream.

"Hey Colon Sanders!" the green guy hollers. "Hey! HEY!"

"You know those people who think they can get through language barriers simply by being louder?" Bowler Hat says. "That totally works is what I'm saying, do keep trying."

The green guy does nothing more than blows a raspberry. "Poop. And shit. Poop shit."

"I... suppose it was a little much to hope," the prince gives a little chuckle, but it's sad.

"Is he still sick?" a gruff voice asks below Thomas and to the right. Out of view and almost missed. Thomas focuses on the purple hoodie. He's crouched beside the bed, arms barely taking up any room on the mattress by Thomas's hip. His fists are clenching. "Maybe he's gonna hurl. Does he look like he's going to hurl?"

"He is undoubtably still sick," Blue-Tie announces. "It will take time for him to recover, and we managed... much more than we thought possible last night. There is victory in small successes."

"Has anyone tried touching him again though?" the prince asks hopefully.

In answer, Thomas twitches his hand until it lands on Purple Hoodie's fist. There is definitely a hand there under Thomas's own. The cuff of the sleeve slides against the side of his hand. It's real too. Purple Hoodie gives a barely perceptible choking noise. He's gazing up at Thomas like he's sprouted wings and laid eggs. Thomas doesn't exactly meet the stricken stare, but it's close.

Around them, the others don't notice at first. They've started arguing, and wow is it weird to be able to hear all the words finally. He hears some of their names, and he hears their voices with crystal clarity. And all the while, the fist under his hand is beyond stiff and unmoving.

Cardigan, from Thomas's left, gasps. His hands fly up to his cheeks.

"Patton Pending?" Prince asks in response.

"Thomas is holding hands with Virgil, look!"

And everyone does.

Six pairs of eyes hone in on Thomas holding hands with a guy, and it's the least gay thing ever.

"I don't think I'm dreaming," Thomas declares. He picks up Virgil's hand for good measure, and the dude lets him. He's got this deer-in-the-headlights expression going on, and the eyeshadow he wears is impressive, but Thomas is more concerned with testing the weight of the hand. It feels like a hand and moves like a hand. Therefore, it must be a hand.

Thomas drops the hand. "Yeah, I don't think I'm dreaming." He grabs the water bottle left on his bedside table and calmly drinks some. He can't bear the tacky feeling in his mouth. He needs to brush his teeth at some point.

"Holy shit," Green Guy surmises. Bowler Hat has uncrossed his legs and sat forward with intent.

"Thomas?!" Prince and Cardigan and Blue Tie all say in varying stages of alarm.

"That's my name," Thomas agrees. He's so tired. He sits the bottle in his lap in favor of rubbing at his face. He thinks he remembers crying at some point. God, what a mess he must look like.

"You can see us?! Like you can actually see us?!" Prince exclaims. He staggers one knee onto the foot of the bed in his haste. His eyes are so bright they make Thomas's squint. "Thomas, please say you can see us. Don't let this be a dream."

"I've seen you guys in my dreams," Thomas murmurs. He doesn't know how else to answer. If he's matter of fact, maybe things will be easier to process.

To that, Prince is at a loss. An excited loss, but still a loss. He wears a half-cocked grin of question, glancing to Blue Tie and Cardigan and Virgil. And Bowler Hat is now standing beside him.

"Patton, do us all a favor and poke him," Bowler Hat commands.

Patton pokes Thomas's shoulder. It's gentle enough and sways Thomas minutely. With rapt attention, Patton pokes him again.

"I poked him," Patton says with wide eyes.

"You poked me," Thomas confirms.

And that's when the chaos erupts. They're all talking at once, some of them trying to get his attention again. Virgil's got a vice of a grip on the bedsheets. Prince tries crawling onto the bed, only held back by Bowler Hat. Green Guy grins at him in the most bewildered fashion. Blue Tie is gesturing for everyone not to talk over each other, and Patton keeps poking Thomas's shoulder while saying, "Poke, poke, poke."

It's a lot to take in for a guy who thought he was dying a few hours ago. With that same calm in place, Thomas drags his legs over the side of the bed onto the floor. Virgil scrambles back to give him room. Thomas wonders if he should apologize, and then reminds himself that this is his room and that dream people shouldn't exist.

"Thomas?" someone calls, he doesn't know who.

"I'm going to go get a shower," Thomas announces.

No one stops him. They get quiet again, and he can feel them watching him. His body is sore and his head won't shut up, but he manages well enough. Blue Tie steps out of his way so he can grab some clothes from his dresser. If anyone tries to say anything more to him, he ignores it completely. He's too busy barricading himself in the bathroom.